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diff --git a/39587.txt b/39587.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d37221d --- /dev/null +++ b/39587.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9624 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Graftons, by Archibald Marshall + +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 Graftons + A Novel + +Author: Archibald Marshall + +Release Date: May 1, 2012 [EBook #39587] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAFTONS *** + + + + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. This book was produced from +scanned images of public domain material from the Google +Print archive. + + + + + + + + + +THE GRAFTONS + + + + +BY THE SAME AUTHOR + + + THE HOUSE OF MERRILEES + EXTON MANOR + THE ELDEST SON + THE SQUIRE'S DAUGHTER + THE HONOUR OF THE CLINTONS + THE GREATEST OF THESE + THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH + WATERMEADS + UPSIDONIA + ABINGTON ABBEY + THE GRAFTONS + + + + +THE GRAFTONS +_A NOVEL_ + + +BY +ARCHIBALD MARSHALL + + +[Illustration] + + +NEW YORK +DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY +1918 + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY +DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. + + + + +TO +WILLIAM HENRY BATES + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I SURLEY RECTORY 1 + II A QUESTION OF PATRONAGE 13 + III IN THE GARDEN 27 + IV A PRESENTATION 45 + V THE SYSTEM 63 + VI THE VICAR'S DECISION 80 + VII A MORNING RIDE 93 + VIII THE BISHOP FINDS A MAN 107 + IX THE NEW VICAR 121 + X YOUNG GEORGE TAKES ADVICE 136 + XI THE SECOND LOVE 151 + XII CAROLINE AND BEATRIX 164 + XIII PARIS 178 + XIV A WEDDING 192 + XV AN ACCIDENT 207 + XVI MAURICE 218 + XVII HOW THEY TOOK IT 235 + XVIII MORE OPINIONS 246 + XIX AFTER THE WEDDING 261 + XX CAROLINE'S HOME-COMING 277 + XXI A VISIT 291 + XXII THE FAMILY VIEW 307 + XXIII AN ENGAGEMENT 318 + XXIV BARBARA 327 + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +This novel, though it is complete in itself, deals with the same +characters as "Abington Abbey." Its publication gives me the opportunity +of replying to some criticisms of that novel, which would apply equally +to this one. + +The criticisms to which I refer have to do, not with faults of +authorship, to which it would not be becoming to reply, but with matters +for which an apology, or at least an explanation, may be offered. + +The first has been that in such times as these a novel dealing with +minor currents of life as they existed before the war is something of an +anachronism. Perhaps it is. In the fourth year of the war, life as it is +depicted in these two novels seems already far away. But what is a +novelist of manners to do, granted the assumption--admittedly +debateable--that he is to go on writing novels at all? He must either +write _about_ the war, in one or other of its far-reaching effects upon +life, or else he must leave it alone altogether. At least, those are the +only alternatives that I have felt to be open to me; and, after having +written one novel with the war as its deliberate climax, I have chosen +the latter. When the war is over, it will be possible to take its +adjustments into account as affecting everyday life, but while it is +going on I do not think it is possible. It looms too big. Minor affairs +would have their values in contrast with it, and truth would suffer. + +If further justification were necessary, I think I could find it in the +relief it brings from the heavy weight of the war to turn one's mind to +those happy days in which life presented problems of less appalling +significance than now, and to gain the comforting assurance that those +days will come again. This relief I know to be felt by readers as well +as by writers of fiction. + +The second criticism upon which I should like to have my say is that the +life I have depicted in those of my novels whose scenes are laid in the +English country has been for some time a thing of the past, and after +the war may be expected to disappear altogether. My American critics, +kind as most of them are, often seem to accuse me of presenting an +idyllic picture of a state of things which is based upon rotten +foundations, and either of leaving out of account or of deliberately +shutting my eyes to the rottenness. + +I should not accept either charge. If it were worth anybody's while to +read through those novels of mine in which the economic conditions of +English landholding are touched upon, I think he would find in the first +place that I have nowhere defended whatever abuses may still attach to +the system, but have frequently satirised them; and in the second place +that economic questions play but a small part in my fictions. + +I think that if I had left such questions alone altogether there would +be no criticism to meet. I could point to a dozen novelists who write +about the same sort of people, living in the same surroundings, as I do, +against whom it would not be brought, because they take the conditions +for granted, and their readers take them for granted. If I touch upon +such questions here and there it is because they interest me as factors +in the lives of my characters; but they are not the factors which I have +chosen as the main thesis of my novels, except in one instance. In "The +Old Order Changeth" I did seek to reflect the renewal that is always +going on in English landowning, and always has gone on since the +beginning,--where the new men come in to dispossess the old; and the +social disturbance that takes place at each such upheaval, before the +new become absorbed in their turn into the old. + +That is how I see it. Whatever changes may have come and may be coming +in the economic conditions of landholding, and of agricultural labour, +the life of the country house, large or small, goes on much the same as +ever, and will go on. Where it can no longer be supported by the land, +it is supported by money made elsewhere. English people like the flavour +of country life, and it is very seldom that a man who has made his +fortune in business does not eventually buy or rent a country house. +Many of the big estates in the United Kingdom have been acquired of late +years by rich Americans, who buy them, I suppose, not as an investment +in property, but because they also are attracted by the flavour of +English country life. Country houses, from the great house such as is +represented here by Abington Abbey down to the little house such as +Stone Cottage, are scattered all over England, and I should say that in +nine cases out of ten, taking large and small together, the people who +inhabit them have no concern with the land, in the way of drawing any +part of their income from it, or of dealing with it as a productive +agency. They have not come "back to the land" in any essential sense; +they have only come back to the country. I believe that no economic +changes that may affect those who live by the land, whether as employers +or labourers, will much affect the social life of English country +houses. + +As far as my novels are concerned, it is simply a question of placing +the sort of people whom I know best in the surroundings of which I like +to write. Where my characters are in direct contact with the business of +the land, or are affected by it, I do not shirk reference to it, as far +as it seems to bear upon the main purpose of my story. But I have not +set out to present an all-round picture of the conditions of country +life in any of the fictional districts I have chosen as the scene of my +novels. The great majority of the inhabitants of any countryside are the +people who work on the land and live by it, and these I have left out +almost entirely; not because I do not recognise their actual importance, +but because in the social scene of my stories they would not appear, or +only in a very minor degree. It may be an unsatisfactory state of things +which divides people off in that way, into social strata, but it +undoubtedly exists, and it is not the business of a novelist to justify +the conditions he finds, but to reflect them; unless, of course, he sets +out to make a discussion of those conditions the basis of his story. + +As for my family of Graftons, who are real and dear to me, I have +pictured them in the sunny days of peace. But in my vision, at least, +the shadow of the war lies over them, as it does in retrospect over all +immediately pre-war fictional characters. Dick Mansergh and Maurice +Bradby would have been fighting since the beginning; Young George and +his friend Jimmy would have been caught up in it by this time. In the +slaughter of bright youth that is going on, it would hardly be expected +that not one out of the four would be killed or wounded. George Grafton +would be "doing something," with the men of his generation, and would +hardly be able to regard life now as going so easily for him as to make +of it a spiritual danger. The girls must have known sorrow and a much +changed outlook, unless they have been more fortunate than most. + +Yes, these are stories of the past, as much as if they had been written +about people living forty or fifty years ago instead of four or five. +But the shadow will pass away, and life will emerge again into the +sunshine. I have looked forward, in writing them, as much as I have +looked back. + + ARCHIBALD MARSHALL. + _March_, 1918. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SURLEY RECTORY + + +The old man lay dying at last. He had lingered on for months, now +getting a little better and giving hope that the end might be deferred +for a time, now sinking, so that it seemed as if it had come; but with +all the alterations in his state moving onwards slowly and surely +towards his rest. Now there was no longer any hope, even for a few days +more. His two daughters and his son sat by his bedside, waiting. There +was nothing to do but to wait, and to think. + +It was towards the close of a sunny April day. The windows of the large +eastward-facing room were wide open to admit the fragrant air. The birds +were making a great to do in the Rectory garden, where the flowers of +early spring flaunted their bright colours, and the lawns answered them +with living verdure. Nearly every morning for five and forty years the +old man who was dying had arisen from the bed on which he lay to look +out on this scene. It might almost be said to have been what he had +lived for. At the age of thirty-four, still a young man, with a wife +still younger, and his two little girls, he had come to this assured +haven, with no thought of leaving it until he had lived his life out to +the full, where there was everything to make life what he wished it to +be. + +There was the pleasant roomy house, so admirably adapted to the delights +of a quiet home life, the beautiful garden, the glebe and the +outbuildings and the two or three cottages which added what was almost a +little farm to what was almost a country mansion. And there was the +substantial income, which would provide for the pleasures and +hospitalities as well as the responsibilities of country life. + +There was a little queer eighteenth century church, hardly more than a +meeting-house, but big enough to hold such proportion of the three +hundred or so inhabitants of the parish of Surley as would make a +practice of attending it. It was to serve them that the Reverend William +Cooper had been appointed to the living by the Bishop of the Diocese, +and the house and the garden and the glebe and the substantial income +were to be the reward of his service. None of the parishioners were very +poor; the income would not be greatly depleted by the calls of charity. +Nor would the time of their ministrant be too much occupied by them, +supposing him to have other uses to which to put it. + +He had done his work and taken his reward. There had never been any +question in his mind that the one was not fitted to the other, nor any +sense of diffidence before others who were spending themselves in the +vineyard with material reward barely existent. It had been rather the +other way about. The Rector of Surley was almost a dignitary, by reason +of the reward, and carried himself so before his lesser brethren, but +not with arrogance, for he was an amiable likeable man, and only living +up to his position. These things were so; it was not even necessary to +excuse them, at least in those days. + +An amiable likeable man! He had gone about his parish for five and forty +years, until there were only two or three in it who were older than he. +Most of them now living he had christened into the Church, many he had +buried, some he had married, a few he had helped, as one helps friends, +not as one gives doles to the poor. He had touched the lives of all of +them, and they had been satisfied with him. It was not for them to +complain of the established order. These things came from above. If the +Rector of Surley lived in a big house, with a thousand a year, the +Squire lived in a bigger one, with ten thousand a year. The one was no +more explicable than the other, and no more or less to be criticised. +What might come from either to ameliorate the lot of the less fortunate +would depend upon what sort of Squire or Rector there might be. + +Lying in his bed, as he had lain for months past, or when his strength +had rallied sitting wrapped up in a big chair by the window, the old man +must sometimes have occupied himself in casting up his accounts +preparatory to the great Audit to which he would soon have to submit +them. + +His life had been kindly and useful. He had never turned a deaf ear to +the call of sympathy, nor shirked any of his easy duties, as easy duties +are sometimes apt to be shirked when no punishment is to be expected +from the shirking except from the disapproval of conscience. Probably he +had given more thought to the episodes of his long life as they affected +himself and his family than to the affairs of his ministry. + +His wife had managed him until she had died, and then his daughters had +managed him. In neither case had the managing been done in such a way as +to irritate, or to lessen his dignity before the world. Perhaps he had +hardly known that he had been managed, for he had had his own way, and +had not been aware that it was often the way into which he had been +guided. If both wife and daughters had sometimes raised bristles on the +backs of neighbours, it had been his part to smooth them down, and he +had gained liking by the contrast between himself and them. When his +wife had died he would greatly have missed her sure capable hand in the +affairs of life if his daughters had not then been of an age to fill her +place. He was a man to be dependent upon women, and to draw the best +that was in them towards himself. + +The guidance exercised by women, however, seldom earns love, even when +it escapes domination, and the guidance exercised by the old Rector's +daughters did not always escape it, though they made his welfare the +chief object in their lives. It was his son whom he loved, and thought +most about, during the long hours in which he lay drifting towards the +end. + +He had come to him late in life. He was now not yet twenty-four. If he +had been only a year older the great anxiety which had shadowed the old +man's last months would have been lightened. + +The living of Surley was in the gift of the Bishop, but it had been held +by a Cooper for three generations, covering a period of nearly eighty +years. If only it could be handed on to Denis! + +He had been ordained in the previous Advent, with a title to his +father's curacy. He had done the work of the parish, with the help, or +oversight, of his sisters, and taken such of the services as is +permitted to a Deacon. The people liked him, and if these matters were +arranged by the popular voice he would certainly have been the next +Rector of Surley. But he would not be eligible for Priest's Orders for +another seven months. It was almost too much to hope that the Bishop +would present a Deacon of only a few months' standing to one of the +richest livings in his gift. + +But the old man could not give up hope. These things had been done +before; he had a dozen cases at his fingers' ends. But unfortunately +they were all cases dating back many years, to a time when the fitting +of rewards to work done, or to be done, in the Church, had not seemed of +such importance as now. Fifty years ago nobody would have made any fuss +about such an appointment; now-a-days there would certainly be a fuss. +But he would not admit that there ought to be; he only tacitly accepted +the fact that it was impossible for him to take any steps to bring about +what he so ardently desired. + +The Bishop had been to see him during his illness. Perhaps he might have +put in a word then; he had thought beforehand that he might. But he had +not done so. To that extent he accepted the changed conditions. But none +the less he deplored them. He felt it to be hard, for one thing, that he +would have to die without knowing what should happen after him. His own +uncle, whom he had succeeded in the living, had been made contented by a +promise on his deathbed. He himself had known that he would be presented +to the living a month or more before it had become vacant. + +Ah! things were ordered better in those days. There was more human +kindliness, and not so many Radicals, to interfere with what had been +established for so long and had worked so well. + +The two women and the young man sat by the bedside, speaking sometimes +in low voices to one another, otherwise busy with their thoughts. Now +and then one of them would rise and put a hand to pillow or sheet, but +more to give herself the comfort of performing some little service for +him who would soon be beyond her care than because he still needed it. +For he lay quite still, with eyes closed, breathing faintly as if in +sleep. They would not have known that the end was very near if the +doctor had not told them that the quiet breathing might cease at any +time, and left them to wait for the end. + +There was not much emotion in the minds of either of them. The passing +had been too long and too gradual. Their brains were weary, if their +active bodies were not. They had nursed him turn and turn about, with +help from one or another of the faithful women about the house, but the +nursing had made no great demands upon them. Neither would have admitted +to the other that there was a slight sense of relief in the end having +come at last. Gladly they would have kept him with them and spent +themselves in his service, even if he should never speak to them or open +his eyes upon them again. But they had grown used to the idea of losing +him all the same. Life was strong in them, and there would be many +things to do when he had gone. + +The end came as the dusk began to gather in the corners of the room, +with a fluttering breath that was like a faint sigh, and a silence +hardly more complete than the silence that had been before. The old +Rector of Surley was dead, and the way was open for a new Rector to be +appointed. + +The two sensible self-controlled women, who had for so long given their +service with a cheerful capability that had seemed almost hard in its +efficiency, faced a reaction that neither of them had been prepared for. +They sobbed together, and confessed, each of them, that they had not so +ardently wished that the dear old man should survive for a few hours or +a few days longer than they now wished he had. They would never have him +again alive. The thought was hardly to be borne. Their lives would be +desolate. + +This mood lasted all the evening, and was genuine enough in its regret +for a time now past and not valued enough while it had lasted. Denis was +accused, though not to his face, of want of heart, because he said very +little, and had shed no tears whatever. By the end of the evening the +fact that they had, and could still do so, had come to be a consolation. +By the next morning it had become difficult to shed tears at will, +though they still came on occasions, but at rarer intervals. When all +the business in connection with the funeral and the notifying of friends +and relations had to be met they were ready to meet it, and found +satisfaction in the occupations with which every hour of the days that +followed were filled. + +The letters and the calls of sympathy were most gratifying, as showing +the high esteem in which the late Rector, and his family, were held. One +of the first to call was Mrs. Carruthers, from Surley Park. There had +been a coolness, but death overrode everything. + +The sisters were writing letters at the dining-room table. + +"We had better go in together," said Rhoda. "It will be less awkward." + +"If she doesn't say anything I don't see why we should," said Ethel. +"Let bygones be bygones, I say, at a time like this." + +"I wonder if the Bishop has said anything to her," said Rhoda, as they +went across the hall together. The Bishop of the Diocese was Mrs. +Carruthers's uncle. + +Mrs. Carruthers was very young and very pretty; too young, the Misses +Cooper were accustomed to say, and perhaps too pretty, though there +might be two opinions about that, to be mistress of a property like +Surley, which had been left to her unconditionally by her husband. The +old Rector had been fond of her before the dispute had parted the Park +and the Rectory, and even afterwards, for its details had been kept from +him, and he had not realised that the break had been so complete as it +actually had been. + +Nothing was said about the cause of dispute, which had been concerned +with the 'goings on' of a dairy-maid at Surley Park. There had been an +episode with a young man, and the Misses Cooper, very stern upon keeping +the morals of the parish up to concert pitch, had fastened themselves +upon it firmly. But it was not the dairy-maid who had been concerned in +the episode, and they and Mrs. Carruthers had differed as to the +relative importance of their unfortunate mistake and of the fact that +there had undoubtedly been something to complain of somewhere. + +There were tears in Ella Carruthers's eyes as she came forward to meet +the two sisters. "Oh, I am so sorry," she said. "The dear old man! Of +course one knew the end must be coming, but it doesn't make it less hard +to bear." + +Rhoda and Ethel had tears too, to meet this. They had begun almost to +enjoy the bustle, but were glad to be able to show that the sadder +softer feelings still had sway with them. They were also relieved at the +final disappearance of the coolness between themselves and their +neighbour. There had been a formal mending of the breach some months +before, but they had not been in her house since, nor she in theirs. +Soon they were talking to her about their father as if they had always +been friends, and she was giving them genuine consolation by the +affection she showed herself to have entertained towards him. Their +feelings grew warmer, especially when she said, after they had talked +about the old Rector for some time: "I do hope Denis will succeed him. I +am sure that is what he would most have liked." + +This, from the Bishop's niece, might or might not be significant. The +Bishop was known to be very fond of her, and had stayed with her once at +Surley Park, during the year in which he had occupied his See. It was +with a sense of excitement that they set themselves to find out exactly +how significant it might be. + +"It was the one thing that he really desired," said Rhoda. "I think he +had almost made up his mind to speak a word to the Bishop about it, when +he came over to see him. But I suppose he felt he couldn't. I know he +didn't." + +"I fancy," said Ethel, "that he thought he could safely leave it in the +Bishop's hands. After all, it would be far the best thing for the +parish. That is undoubted." + +"And the Bishop might be expected to see that," said Rhoda, backing her +up. "He is very wise and far-sighted. And he couldn't help liking and +admiring our dear father." + +The statement was almost a question. Ella Carruthers, faintly amused, +treated it as such. + +"Oh, no," she said. "He talked to me about him. He felt a great sympathy +with him. I think he realised what his wishes were likely to be about +Denis, though of course he didn't say anything about it to me." + +The sisters did not ask themselves how, in that case, she could have +divined the thoughts of her august relative. Both of them brightened +visibly. "I don't like to hope too much," said Rhoda who, as the elder, +always spoke first. "But it _would_ be such a good thing for the +parish." + +"Everybody loves Denis," said Ethel. "There is nobody, I don't care who +he is, who could influence them more. And we should be here to help him, +as we always helped our dear father. They know our ways. Of course, one +mustn't put it on personal grounds, but it _would_ seem a pity for all +our work here to be lost." + +"We should work wherever we went," said Rhoda. "It is not ourselves we +are thinking of. Neither of us would care to settle down to a selfish +life without trying to influence our fellow-creatures for good. But I do +feel that if we were not permitted to stay on and work here, a great +deal that we have done during the last twenty years and more might be +lost. People so soon relapse." + +Ella Carruthers could hardly keep the smile from her lips. The idea of +the parish relapsing into heathendom on the departure of the Misses +Cooper amused her, though, in her softer mood towards them, she only +found it rather pathetic that they should disclaim personal interest in +the decision that was soon to be made. She knew little about the +conditions of Church patronage, and still less as to what her uncle's +ideas on the subject were. But she thought she might 'put in a word' +when he came to the funeral, as he had, most gratifyingly, announced his +intention of doing; she had reason to believe, generally, that her word +had weight with him. She left them with heightened hopes, which, if +hardly justified by any influence in her power to exercise, at least put +the seal upon the reconciliation between her and them. + +"She really is kind at heart," said Rhoda, as they went back into the +dining-room, after saying good-bye to her. "I shan't be sorry to be +friends with her again." + +"Nobody can say we have kow-towed," said Ethel. "It was the principle we +stood up for, and although we frankly admitted the mistake we made we +have never given way an inch upon that." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A QUESTION OF PATRONAGE + + +Ella Carruthers lunched at Abington Abbey on that day. The whole family +were there except Young George, who was at school,--George Grafton, +Caroline, Beatrix, Barbara, and Miss Waterhouse. The old Rector of +Surley had been ill almost ever since the Graftons had come to live at +the Abbey, and they had hardly known him. So the talk, as far as it +concerned his death, was almost entirely devoted to the question of his +successor. + +The family took a keen interest in it. George Grafton was patron of the +living Abington, and the Vicar of Abington, the Reverend A. Salisbury +Mercer, was known to cherish hopes that the richer living of Surley +would be offered to him. In that case Grafton would have to present +another Vicar to Abington, and his family did not propose to deprive him +of their advice upon the subject. Also, none of them liked the Reverend +A. Salisbury Mercer. + +"We're divided, you see, Ella," said Caroline. "We should like to get +rid of Lord Salisbury, but we don't think he deserves to have Surley." + +"And we rather love Denis," said Beatrix. "He is frightfully solemn, and +he hasn't shown any indication of loving any of us, the few times we +have met him, which annoys us a little: but we're on his side, on the +whole. We would keep Lord Salisbury for the sake of letting you have +Denis." + +"Thank you very much," said Ella. "We should all have to bear our +crosses, whatever happened. Mine would be Rhoda and Ethel, if Denis gets +it. But, as I told you once before, I should immediately set about +finding him a wife, and then they would have to go. I think they would +try to stop him marrying, whoever it was, and I should enjoy myself over +it. I suppose none of you would care to take the situation. I could +recommend you." + +"I might," said Barbara, "if you'll wait till I have my hair up. I don't +feel that I could love Denis passionately, but I could be a good wife to +him if he didn't beat me." + +"Barbara darling," expostulated Miss Waterhouse. "I don't like to hear +you talk in that way. It is not delicate." + +"I didn't mean it, Dragon dear," said Barbara. "I'm the most +delicate-minded female, really." + +"How would it be," said Grafton, "if we presented Denis to Abington, +supposing Mercer got Surley?" + +The suggestion was received with applause. "Really, Daddy, you're quite +brilliant," said Beatrix. "Lord Salisbury would hate that more than +anything, except Denis getting Surley." + +"Beatrix dear," said Miss Waterhouse. "I don't think you should talk as +if the object of presenting one clergyman to a living were to annoy +another one." + +"Quite right, Dragon," said Grafton. "The less we annoy the clergy the +better, though they often annoy us." + +"You would have Rhoda and Ethel here," Ella Carruthers warned them. + +"Then I don't think you possibly can, Dad," said Caroline. "If you offer +it to Denis you must stipulate that he pensions them off. I think that +what we really want is a very nice old clergyman with white hair." + +"A trifle infirm," added Beatrix. + +"And with a nice old wife who goes about in a basket chaise," said +Barbara. "Or else a very beautiful curate with a moustache, that I could +fall in love with. Dragon darling, _don't_ say I oughtn't to have said +that. I must fall in love sometime, you know, and it would be so good +for me to begin with a clergyman." + +Fine weather had set in so early that year that tennis and croquet +courts had already been marked out, and they played lawn tennis after +luncheon. The court was visible from the road, little frequented, that +ran through the park, and by and by the Vicar himself came along it, +with his wife, and called out to announce that he was coming in. + +"That's because he sees you here, Ella," said Beatrix. "He has rather +left off inviting himself in that way. He will want to know if the +Bishop has dropped any hints. Couldn't you possibly make up a few?" + +There was a slight gleam in Ella Carruthers's eye as she took the +suggestion, though there was no time to reply to it, for the Vicar was +already approaching, pomposity clothing him like a garment, his smiling, +good-natured little wife by his side. The game, which was nearly +finished, was dropped by consent, and the Vicar, after requesting that +it should be continued, but not pressing the point, was content to be +surrounded by them on the seats that were disposed at the edge of the +lawn. + +"We were _so_ sorry to hear of dear old Mr. Cooper's death," said Mrs. +Mercer to Ella. "I'm sure it seems no time since he was as well and +strong as anybody. I could hardly believe it when I heard it." + +"It has been expected for a long time," said her husband. "He has passed +away in the ripeness of his years, and there is no need to repine. We +went over this morning to offer our sympathy to those who are left +behind. They are bearing up very well, I am happy to say. But you had +just been to see them yourself, Mrs. Carruthers. They were much +gratified by your kind visit, and I hear that his Lordship is to come +over and take part in the funeral." + +"Yes, I believe so," said Ella. "I hope to get him to stay the night +with me. It is some time since he came to see me, and we shall have a +good deal to talk over." + +"Ah!" said the Vicar, with semi-archness. "I know how much he values +your advice. He has told me so himself." + +"Really, Albert?" queried Mrs. Mercer, much interested. "You never told +me that." + +The Vicar looked slightly annoyed. "It was when I was over at the +Palace," he said somewhat inadequately; and turned to Ella again. "It is +rather pathetic," he said, "the way those poor girls cling to the idea +that their young brother may be appointed to succeed their father. They +even gain some encouragement from something that you let fall, as to his +Lordship's intentions, no doubt with the idea of comforting them. But it +would never do, you know. No Bishop in these days could afford to make +such an appointment. It would create a scandal." + +"Didn't you say, Albert, that it would amount almost to the sin of +simony?" enquired Mrs. Mercer. + +"Oh! good heavens, Ella!" exclaimed Grafton. "Do preserve your uncle +from the sin of simony. That would be too awful." + +The Vicar, sensitive to ridicule like most people of self-conceit, after +a glance at the faces round him, turned upon his wife. "I should never +have said so absurd a thing in such a connection," he said. "You are +thinking of something quite different." + +Ella Carruthers broke in. "My uncle has only been Bishop here for a +little over a year," she said. "He has told me more than once that there +has been a great deal to learn. And I know I have helped him in one or +two things." + +A gleam of satisfaction shone in the Vicar's eye. She seemed to be +appealing to him for advice, which she could pass on, and he was quite +ready to give it. "Your uncle," he said, "has spent all his life of +service--hard and devoted service, I know--in large towns. Though no man +could rival him in knowledge of urban clerical problems, it would be +nothing to be surprised at if he were not yet fully alive to all the +currents of opinion among the country clergy." + +"You have lived mostly in the country, Ella," said Grafton. "If you +could give your uncle a few hints as to what the clergy think about +these things he might perhaps be glad of it." + +"Oh, I'm sure he would," broke in Mrs. Mercer enthusiastically. "Dear +Mrs. Carruthers, please try. It would be such a splendid thing. And I'm +sure there's nobody who could prime you up better than my husband. He +has made a life-long study of these questions, just as the Bishop has +about town questions." + +The Vicar almost simpered. "I wouldn't compare any knowledge of mine +with the Bishop's, my dear," he said. "At the same time, in my humble +sphere, I have observed, and thought, and consulted with men perhaps +wiser than myself, and I think I do know the conditions of a country +diocese such as this, possibly, if I may say so without being +misunderstood, as well as any Bishop." + +"I know my uncle is always anxious to discover the opinions of people +who really know things," said Ella. "And he is certainly not above +taking advice." + +"I should hardly presume to offer advice," said the Vicar. "For one +thing, my position as incumbent of one of the less important livings in +the Diocese would hardly justify me in offering advice to my Diocesan. +Personally, I am more than contented with my lot, and should never lift +so much as a finger to change it. But if circumstances did conspire to +move me to a higher sphere of influence, where it would not be +unbecoming to lift my voice in advice, I should consider it my duty to +do so, if asked, knowing that possibly I could thus serve my +generation." + +"I suppose the living of Surley would hardly give you that opportunity, +would it?" asked Ella. "I think there are fewer inhabitants, and it is a +poor little church." + +"Oh, yes, dear Mrs. Carruthers, it _certainly_ would," said Mrs. Mercer. +"The Rector of Surley has always been a person of importance. Even old +Mr. Cooper was, though compared with my husband--" + +"Oh, _please_, my dear!" interposed her husband. "Let me speak for +myself. Your question wants considering, Mrs. Carruthers. It is true, as +my wife says, that the Rector of Surley has always been considered a +person of some weight in the Diocese. The last two incumbents were Rural +Deans, and Mr. Cooper would have been so if he had not considered +himself too old when the office fell vacant. Yes, I think I may say that +the Rectorate of Surley _would_ provide scope for a man anxious to serve +in the way we have been discussing, though it was not actually the sort +of position I had in my mind. But I should think it probable that his +Lordship has already made his decision. If not, and you have an +opportunity of whispering a word in his ear, dear lady, warn him against +such a grave mistake as the appointment of young Cooper would be. I +speak--" + +"But _don't_, for goodness sake, tell Rhoda and Ethel that my husband +advised you to," interrupted Mrs. Mercer. "We should never hear the last +of it." + +The Vicar showed signs of acute annoyance. "Really, Gertrude!" he said. +"One would think I was doing something underhand in speaking as I do." + +"Well, dear, of course we _have_ both sympathised with them when they +told us of their hopes. I know it was only to--" + +But he would not let her go on. "For young Cooper as a man I have the +utmost respect," he said, "and if he were twenty or even perhaps ten +years older and had proved himself in his sacred calling, as he will +do--as I'm sure he will do--I should say institute him as Rector of +Surley, and the blessing of God go with him. But it is not a personal +question. Religion is too sacred a thing to be treated in that way, and +I have a duty to perform that can't be tampered with. For the Bishop's +own sake he should be warned against making a mistake of that sort, +Rhoda and Ethel or no Rhoda and Ethel." + +"Well, Ella," said Grafton, rising, "you know what to do and say, if +you're asked. I'm sorry for young Denis, because I should like to see +him settled in a good fat living. But you see it wouldn't do, and your +uncle ought to be warned against it." + +The Vicar also rose. "At the same time," he said, "I shouldn't like it +to be thought that the advice had come from me. It might almost look as +if I wanted the living for myself, and I should greatly dislike that +idea going abroad." + +"But you wouldn't refuse it if my uncle were persuaded that you were the +best man to give it to?" hazarded Ella. + +"I should consider it," said the Vicar, after a moment's weighty pause. +"I can't say more at present than that I should consider it." + +As his wife also seemed about to express herself upon the subject he +took his leave, somewhat hurriedly, and carried her along with him. +Grafton and Caroline accompanied them to the garden gate. + +"Isn't he the limit?" enquired Beatrix when they were out of earshot. +"_Can_ he think we're all such fools as not to see through him?" + +"I wanted to see how far he would go," said Ella. "Really, I think it +would be almost worth while having him at Surley to be able to play with +him. But from this moment I am heart and soul on the side of Denis, +Rhoda and Ethel or no Rhoda and Ethel." + +This was not the only clerical invasion of the Abbey on that afternoon. +It contained a household which presented such attractions to friendly +neighbours that a day seldom went by without a visit from one or more of +them. Worthing, the agent of the Abington property, as well as of the +adjoining one of Wilborough, and his pupil, Maurice Bradby, came to +reinforce the tennis players. So did Richard Mansergh, the eldest son +of Sir Alexander, of Wilborough, a sailor home on leave, and already if +appearances went for anything, desperately enamoured of Beatrix. And +about tea-time the party was joined by the Reverend Rogers Williams, +Vicar of Feltham, and his wife, who came over on bicycles, accompanied +by several Airedale terriers, whose breeding they supervised in the +intervals of more serious occupations. They were known as the Breezy +Bills in the Grafton family, and a closer intimacy had been established +with them during the previous holidays by Young George, who had taken a +youthful liking to their daughter, Maggie, aged fourteen. + +Tea was in the Long Gallery upstairs, and the talk was mostly about the +Rectory of Surley. + +"Are you a candidate?" asked Grafton of Mr. Williams. "Because if so we +shall have to be careful what we say. I may tell you at once that our +sympathies are with young Denis Cooper." + +"I a candidate!" exclaimed Mr. Williams with a hearty laugh--he laughed +heartily at anything in which a humourous significance might be +inferred, and at many things where it was not apparent,--"Oh, good +gracious, no! Wouldn't leave Feltham for anything in the world. We've +got everything exactly as we like it there, haven't we, dear?" + +"Yes," said his wife. "The kennels couldn't be beaten and they've cost +us a lot of money, which we should lose if we moved. And there's the +carpentering shop too. Oh, no, we look on at it all and laugh about it, +don't we, dear?" + +Mr. Williams laughed about it. "I don't know about young Denis," he +said. "That would be rather a tall order, as things go now-a-days. +There's one fellow, though, that I hope _won't_ get it. But perhaps I'd +better not say who he is in this company." He laughed again. + +"Oh, we know who you mean," said Caroline. "We hope he won't get it +either. But why shouldn't Denis?" + +"I suppose because all the rest of us would kick up such a fuss," said +Mr. Williams, laughing most heartily. "I shouldn't on my own account, +but there are lots of older men who have worked hard all their lives who +ought to be considered before a young one just beginning. There's +nothing to do there either. A young fellow ought to have something to +do." + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Ella. "Rhoda and Ethel find a great deal +to do, and Denis is never idle. I can't take your view of it at all, and +I hope my uncle won't." + +Mr. Williams laughed. "We were wondering how much Mrs. Carruthers might +have to do with it as we rode over, weren't we, dear?" he asked of his +wife, and laughed again. + +"We hope she is going to have a great deal to do with it," said Beatrix. +"We are heart and soul for Denis." + +Richard Mansergh, who was sitting next to her, frowned slightly. +"Brill--our fellow--was saying that with that big house and good income +there ought to be a sort of community there," he said. + +"That's just what Father Brill would say," said Mrs. Williams. +"Everybody likes Father Brill; but preserve us from having our nice +Rectories and Vicarages filled with people of his sort. I don't mean his +sort personally, but celibates stalking about in cassocks, and no women +in the parsonages for poor people to come to. It wouldn't do at all." + +"I'm sure it wouldn't," said Worthing. "You can't change and muddle up +English country life like that. What were all the parsons' houses built +for? You've got them in every village in the land, so that there should +be an educated man able to live like a gentleman; and now people like +Brill want to put it all back again. It won't do." + +"You speak with considerable heat, James," said Grafton. + +"Well, I think it's a lot of tommy-rot," said Worthing, "and I've often +told Brill so. The people don't want it. The happiest state of things +for them is where an old-fashioned Squire is doing his duty, and an +old-fashioned parson is doing his duty." + +"And an old-fashioned agent is doing his duty," hazarded Barbara. + +Worthing eyed her askance, and then chuckled. "You're a cheeky young +baggage," he said, "but you're not far wrong either. The agent has to +drive the team, and it wants some driving. It's the human side that's +wanted; that's what it is--the human side." + +He came abruptly to an end, with a frown of perplexity on his ample, not +over-intellectual face. It was Caroline who interpreted his ideas for +him further. + +"You're quite right, dear Uncle Jimmy," she said. "That's what strikes +one when one gets into country life a little. The system may not be +perfect, but it works splendidly with the right people to look after +it." + +Her father smiled at her indulgently. "What do you know about the +system?" he asked her. + +"Oh, I've been reading," she said. "I read a lot when you are up in +London, Dad, and don't want looking after." + +"I don't see much wrong with the system," said Richard Mansergh. "It's +worked jolly well for hundreds of years, and it's only the Radicals who +want to upset it." + +"The naughty wicked Radicals, of course!" said Beatrix. "I like them +better than the Tories myself. I once met Mr. Birrell, and he's the +sweetest old lamb in the world." + +"One swallow doesn't make a summer," said Richard. "Wait till you've met +a few more." + +Mr. Williams laughed heartily. "They'd like to turn us all out," he +said. "But we won't _be_ turned out--not without a struggle. I don't +think there's much wrong with the system either, and I'd rather see +young Denis Rector of Surley than one of Father Brill's communities +there." + +"Oh, so would I," said Ella, "and I hope my uncle will make him. He's +old for his years already, and every day he'll get older." + +"Do you think the Bishop will appoint him?" asked Mr. Williams. + +"I don't know," she said. "If I knew I'd say so. But I do know that +whatever he does it won't be because he's afraid of what people will say +about him." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +IN THE GARDEN + + +They went back to the tennis courts after tea, but there were not enough +of them to make up two sets, the Breezy Bills having left on their +bicycles, followed by a trail of Airedales. "Come and look at the +rock-garden," said Caroline to Maurice Bradby. + +The young man brightened visibly. He had sat silent during the +conversation at the tea table, as he generally sat silent in company, +being too diffident to put forward his views in a general conversation. +But he had views of his own on many subjects, and those who took the +trouble to elicit them often found them interesting. + +Caroline was one of these. She was no older than he, but had seen so +much more of the world and its inhabitants that her feeling towards him +was almost maternal. + +He was not like the young men whom she had met in such shoals in London +ball-rooms and in country houses, not one of whom, however they might +differ in character and tastes, but had done and known many of the +things that she had. Bradby was the son of a clergyman, and had left his +provincial Grammar-school for a stool in a provincial bank, to be +released from it after four years of unhappy confinement for the +country life after which his soul had always hankered. The country was +a passion with him, and Caroline had penetrated some of his depths at an +early stage, when the rest of the family were only in the state of +finding him uncommonly heavy in hand, because his upbringing had not +trained him to respond to the easy intimacy which they offered to all +whom they thought worthy of it, and had offered to him on his +introduction to them under Worthing's wing. Caroline, sweet and kind to +all who seemed to need helping in the world, had taken more trouble +about him than the rest, but they had all come to accept him by this +time for what he was. It was no longer awkward to have him sitting +silent while talk flowed high all about him; they knew him too well to +be obliged to drag him into it out of politeness, or for one of them to +detach herself to talk to him. And it was only in talk that he was +backward. If there was anything to do he was a stand-by,--clever and +capable and interested. All of them liked him very well, but only +Caroline had come to be unaffected by his dissimilarity from type. + +He was tall and loosely built, with large, strong hands, and, it must be +confessed, with unusually large feet. His hair was not well brushed, and +looked as if it could not be. His features were indeterminate, but he +had large, dark eyes which somehow redeemed them. His clothes were +unobtrusive, but whatever he wore he never looked well-dressed. Among +the smart young men of the Graftons' large circle of friends, who came +down to shoot at Abington or to spend week-ends there, and even those +who were not smart but belonged obviously to the same class, he seemed +always out of place. This was somewhat of an annoyance to Beatrix, who +was apt to complain that there was no reason why he should so +persistently take a back seat, considering that they had done all they +could to make a friend of him. But it did not annoy Caroline. She had +seen once or twice young men among their visitors who did not live and +move wholly on the surface of things find something in common with him. +He was her protege. She did not even want to see him 'smartened up,' as +Beatrix, commenting upon his unaccented appearance, had sometimes +suggested as a process that would improve him. + +The rock-garden, fashioned the previous year out of a disused stone +quarry across a paddock from the garden, was full of interest, in this +its second flowering season, and attracted visits at all hours of the +day. Maurice Bradby had worked hard with hands and brains at its +construction, and knew more about what was growing in it than any of its +owners. He had had few opportunities of acquiring garden knowledge in +the provincial town in which most of his life had been spent, but he +sucked in and assimilated such knowledge without effort, and added to it +by close observation, and to a lesser extent by study of his subject. +All subjects that had to do with nature found this eager response in +him, and Worthing, a countryman by birth and upbringing, had said more +than once that he had never had a pupil so easy to teach. + +Bradby found his voice the moment they were clear of the tennis lawn. +"What did you mean about the system being wrong just now?" he asked. + +She looked up at him with a smile. "I don't think I said it was wrong, +did I?" she said. "I said that it wanted the right people to make it +work." + +He seemed to be considering this, and she said, half jestingly, "I know +you think everything is right in the country." + +"It's right for me," he said simply. "I suppose it's right for you, too, +isn't it?" + +"Yes; but then look how you and I are placed." + +He considered this too. "We're not placed in the same way," he said. +"I'm part of the machine, and I'm learning to be a still more important +part of the machine." + +"Well, am I not part of the machine too? If we were just here to enjoy +ourselves, as some people do buy country houses just to enjoy +themselves, I suppose that would mean standing apart from the machine. +But we aren't like that, are we?" + +He did not reply at once, and as they had now reached the rock-garden, +and Caroline's next words were about the flowers that were showing their +vivid spring colours in the amphitheatre all about them, the +conversation was broken off for the time. + +But it was resumed again a little later, as they stood here and there, +or moved slowly up and down the rocky stairs or about the stone paths. + +"You know, I think we did take it rather as a new toy when we first +come down here," Caroline said. "We loved the country, and we wanted a +country house of our very own. Of course we've all enjoyed it awfully in +that way, but I don't think any of us thought we should live here so +much as we have. We've hardly lived in London, all together, since. And +we are always wanting to get back here when we do." + +"Mr. Grafton doesn't take such an interest in the estate as Sir +Alexander does in Wilborough?" he said. + +She laughed. "Darling old Dad!" she said. "It is rather a bore to him. +He works when he is in London, and likes to play down here, and leave +the work to you and Uncle Jimmy. But he's a good Squire all the same, +isn't he? He gives you everything you ask for." + +"Oh, yes. There's never any trouble about money to run the show as it +ought to be run. I only meant he didn't take much interest in details." + +"I don't suppose people at the head of a big business generally do, do +they? They leave the details to the people they can trust. Dad wouldn't +take much interest in the details of his banking." + +"Oh, well, I see what you mean. This isn't his real business as it is +Sir Alexander's. Still, there's something I can't get quite right in my +mind. It's all so--well, so happy, to me, that I don't like to think +there's a flaw anywhere--in the system, I mean. Mr. Grafton pays for it, +doesn't he? He makes his money somewhere else. He bought the estate, +but it can't return him much on his capital--certainly not enough to +live on in the way you do." + +"No, but why should it? We get all the fun of it extra. I suppose you +may say Dad pays for that. It returns enough to run itself, though. I +suppose you and Uncle Jimmy see to that." + +"Oh, yes. It keeps us going, too. And everything is run as it ought to +be. All the farms are let, and everybody is contented,--or ought to be. +Everybody is getting a living, anyhow, out of the land." + +"I love to think of people getting a living out of the land." + +His eyes shone as he turned his face quickly to her. "Do you feel like +that about it, too?" he asked. "So do I. It fills me with pleasure. I +like to think of everything that's growing on the land, and every little +thing that's done to make it grow, and the men who do it all; and some +of them get so wise, always living and working on it, that you would +never learn all they know if you read about it till the end of your +life." + +"I talked to old Bull once while he was laying a fence," she said. "He +was proud to let me see how cleverly he was doing it, and that it wasn't +so easy as it looked. He has been hedging and ditching all his life, and +he enjoys it as much as anything he could do." + +"Yes, I know. That's the sort of work a man can enjoy, with his hands. +You're helping nature, and if you learn the ways of nature she helps +you. There's never any monotony in nature. She's alive." + +"When you see people like that, you're apt to be ashamed of yourself for +all the things you want to make you contented. Old Bull has brought up a +large family on less than half of what I have for a dress allowance. His +dear old wife,--I know her too--gets the most out of every penny that he +gives her, and he has all he wants at home. There's no anxiety about +life when you've been trained to do without things and not to want +them." + +"No, you get your satisfaction out of the things you have, and they are +much bigger than the things you do without." + +"They have enough to eat and drink, and good clothes to wear. They have +their family interests, and their friends. They see people they know, +and have known all their lives, more easily than people like us do. They +hardly ever move out of their village, but the little changes of life +from day to day and from week to week, with their work, and their times +of leisure, are enough for them." + +He smiled at her. "It's an idyllic picture," he said. "There are people +who will tell you that you won't keep them on the land except by +bringing the pleasures of the town to them." + +She did not hesitate; her ideas seemed to be clearly set. "That's mostly +the young people," she said. "I'm only thinking now of the older ones, +who really belong to the land. Their interests are in it, and I think +it brings them something as near contentment as it is possible to have." + +"You feel a little like that about it yourself, don't you?" he asked +half shyly. + +She smiled. "I suppose we are generally thinking a little about +ourselves when we are talking about other people," she said. "I know how +different my life is from theirs--how much more I want to--to keep me +quiet. But I know that the more simple I make it, and the more it +depends upon what lies around me, the happier I am." + +He looked at her almost with veneration. She was an unusually pretty +girl, with an expression of sweetness and kindness which was more than +her beauty. To him she seemed so far above all other girls whom he had +ever seen as to be of a different flesh and spirit. Beatrix was even +more beautiful than Caroline, and she was kind and sweet too, though +with more contrariety in her. But to him she was common clay beside +Caroline, whose lightest word he was inclined to receive as an oracle. +Both of them seemed to him, in his self-respecting timidity, far above +himself. He had had no contact with the life they represented before he +had come to Abington, and thought himself quite unfitted to take part in +it, with its ease and elaboration of wealth and unfamiliar custom +marking it at every turn. To think of himself as anywhere on the same +footing as these shining girls would have seemed to him hardly less +presumptuous than to think of himself as on a level with a Royal +Princess. But just as the goddesses of old time filled the hearts of +mortal men with bliss by showing them what they shared with them, but +never lost their godhead by so doing, so Caroline moved his wonder and +admiration by letting him into some of the secret places of her nature, +which was as fair as its outward form, but still remained high above +him. + +"It's what I feel," he said gently, "though I lived a dull life before I +came here, and you lived a gay one. I've given up nothing that I wanted. +I enjoy my life much more; but still it's a good deal simpler than it +was." + +"It comes of doing the work you like in the surroundings you like," she +said sagely. "With a woman it isn't so much the work as all the little +ways of spending her time. She doesn't as a rule, unless she's creative, +or has to earn her own living, work by herself, or for herself. She is +in touch with others all the time. I never thought of myself as having a +place here, except the one I have always had at home. But I have, you +know. I've made friends with a great many people. We all have. We know +most of the people in the village, and all the children. I suppose I +just thought of Abington, when we first came down, as a lovely house in +which we could enjoy ourselves, by ourselves, or with the friends we +asked to come here, and the people we should get to know in the houses +round. I never thought of it as a place with a few hundred people living +right round you. But now I know them, it's different. I have plenty of +friends among them too, friends who tell me things about themselves, and +like to hear what I have to tell them. I think I have made myself part +of the machine, after all. But I like to think about it as a big +family." + +They were walking back to the tennis lawn by this time. "Yes, that's +what Worthing meant by the human side," said Bradby. "I know he thinks a +lot about that, and we have talked about it. It isn't giving them +charity; they don't want that; or they ought not to want it. It's +feeling that you're all the same flesh and blood. If there has been +anything wrong with the system, that's what has kept it together all +these years." + +Richard Mansergh and Beatrix did not talk about the system when they +presently betook themselves for a stroll in the evening sunlight, before +he mounted his horse to ride home. He had, in truth, a little difficulty +in persuading her to take it with him, for his admiration of her had by +this time reached the point at which it demanded expression, and +expression in its turn was apt to demand answers of a kind which she was +not ready to give. But at this time she rather prided herself upon her +total immunity from the softer passions, and gained some satisfaction in +fencing with them when they were obtruded on her notice. It was only a +question of whether or no she was in the mood to exercise her wits that +made her accept or decline these contests, and she had only hung back a +little because her late activities had rather tired her. + +She was enough to turn the head of any man, with her sweet flower-like +face, whose mischievous eyes only made it more bewitching. She was only +nineteen, and her slender form had hardly yet filled out to womanhood, +but showed delicious soft curves of neck and shoulder. She wore a short +white skirt and a white silk blouse, all very workmanlike for her play, +but most femininely becoming. A wide-brimmed hat, which she caught up +from the seat beside her, slightly altered the note of her clothes. She +seemed to the young man more desirable thus, walking by his side, than +in the activities of the game, although he had admired her grace and +skill too while she had been playing. Perhaps the hat was put on +instinctively to soften the impressions of athleticism; but a wide hat +brim also conceals eyes and mouth from one who is considerably taller, +when it is to be desired that they shall be concealed. + +Richard Mansergh was some years older than she--a Commander in His +Majesty's Navy, and a good man at his job, a born lover of the sea, but +just at present anxious to spend as much time away from it as rules and +duties stretched to their utmost limit would allow. He was taller than +most sailors, and rather good-looking or rather ugly according to +whether regularity of feature or perfection of limb should appeal to the +observer. In form he was something of an Adonis, and the shape of the +head and the way it was set on his neck hardly prepared one for a face +that was not that of an Adonis, though it showed strength and a +cleanness that had its attraction too. + +He was very deeply in love, more deeply in love than he had ever been in +his life, or had ever thought to be with a very young girl, since his +salad days were long since over. He was of an ardent temperament, and +previous loves had burnt themselves out without ever coming to the point +of a strong desire for matrimony. But this time it was coming to that, +if he could win himself any response from this intoxicating, tormenting, +elusive creature, whose image had imprinted itself so deeply on his +inward vision that he walked the earth or sailed the seas with it ever +before him. He was masterful in his ways, and his wooing, when once he +had made up his mind, was direct. But he would never propose to her, if +he wooed her for ten years, unless he gained some sign of love from her. +He wanted the whole of her, for his very own. It was like heady wine to +him to think of her with him always, in spirit if not in body. All he +would have, all he would do, would be hers, but she must make it so +first, and she must give him back all that was in her, all the endless +treasures of her mind and her spirit, which thrilled him afresh every +time he brought a new one to light. He had never felt like that about +any woman before, and he exulted in the strength of his passion, and the +new things about love that it was teaching him. They were all good +things, and made the cleanest of his past loves seem like mere +sensuality. It would be the true, deathless marriage, if he could win +her. + +Beatrix was far from suspecting on what a pedestal of adoration he had +set her. It hardly showed in the way he treated her, which was masterful +and encroaching. She knew she was being stormed, and rather enjoyed it, +but she did not know how the weather would change, if she surrendered. +Then there would be a deep enduring calm, and strength in which she +could rest herself. If she surrendered! She was nowhere near it at +present. + +"I want you to tell me about that fellow you were in love with." + +She turned a little pale at the shock, and stood still on the grassy +path down which they were wandering towards the yew-enclosed lily pond. +She was used to his abrupt attacks, and had nerved herself to meet one, +as he had walked silent by her side. But she had not expected anything +like this. + +Her momentary pallor was succeeded by a deep blush, as she looked up at +him with protesting eyes. He met her gaze, and adored her afresh because +she did not look down. + +"Really, I'm not going to talk to you about that," she said indignantly. + +He went on, and after a moment's hesitation she went with him, though +her inclination was to turn back. But she never ran away from anything. + +"Why not?" he asked. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I want to know how +much you cared for him." + +The shock once over, Beatrix was not sorry to have her lips opened for +her. It is not often that a girl is given the opportunity of explaining +that she did not care very much for a man to whom she has been engaged, +and who has left her; at least, not to anybody to whom the statement +will bring pleasure, and credence. + +"Haven't you ever known what calf-love is?" she enquired, beginning by +being very hard upon herself. + +"Oh, yes, rather. All men do. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Love's a +very beautiful thing, you know, and if you like beautiful things you're +on the lookout for it from an early age. Sometimes it's the right sort +of thing you get hold of, but as you don't know much when you're first +attacked you generally don't." + +Beatrix felt herself helped. "Well, I suppose girls have it, too," she +said. "In books they are generally supposed to begin with a curate." + +She felt suddenly rather like crying, she could not have told why; but +it was because the love she had given to the man who had been sent away +from her and had not come back again, had been a sacred thing, though +now it was dead; and its uprooting had left a wound which had not yet +become a scar. She was glad to sit down on one of the stone seats of the +lily-pond garden, which by this time they had reached. + +"_You_ wouldn't do that sort of thing," he said. "I expect until that +fellow made love to you, you'd laughed at it all." + +This was quite true, and she felt herself lifted by his understanding. +It was painful to have loved and to love no longer; but since she did +love no longer it was more comforting to her self-respect to believe +that her love had been of a lighter quality than she had thought it at +the time. + +She dropped the ugly idea of calf-love. She could do better than that, +on consideration. "I should have been a Marquise you know," she said, +"and a very rich and important one. Girls are apt to be bowled over by +that sort of thing, you know." + +"_You_ wouldn't be, though," he said again with great directness. + +This was quite true too. She was flattered, but was not prepared to drop +this line entirely. And she believed every word she was saying. "I don't +mean that I was on the lookout for a title, in that crude sort of way," +she said. "I don't think I'm like that." + +How entirely unlike it he thought her he found it difficult to refrain +from saying in a way that might have startled her, touched as he was by +the pathetically doubtful note in her speech. + +"Of course you're not," he said. "I told you so. But I suppose everybody +all round you was egging you on, and flattering you about it. You'd like +to think you were pleasing people." + +How understanding he was, in spite of the rough shocks his speeches +sometimes brought with them! It really had been like that, at first. + +"My darling old Daddy wasn't pleased at all," she said. "He hated it." + +"Yes, I know he did. It's a great feather in his cap. Most fathers +would have gone about purring. He was a good-looking fellow too, wasn't +he? I never saw him myself, but my brother Geoffrey says he was." + +This was a line she would rather have kept off of. "Yes, I suppose he +was," she said judicially. "He was a lot older than me, and had seen a +great deal of the world. Of course that flattered me. I don't think a +younger man would have swept me off my feet as he did." + +The Marquis de Lassigny had been thirty-six at the time of his quick +wooing of Beatrix. Richard Mansergh was thirty-two, and had also seen a +good deal of the world. This statement brought him pleasure. + +"I see now," said Beatrix, speaking very calmly, "that I thought of him +as possessing all sorts of qualities that weren't really his. Of course +I thought I knew a great deal about men, as I had been out a whole +season, and had seen so many of them. Now I see how little I really +knew." + +She was getting on very nicely, but his next words brought a check. "But +you did love him," he said, uncompromisingly. "You wanted to give him +everything that was in you." + +How true that was she felt a pang in remembering. Whatever his love for +her had been, hers had been for him the entire surrender of all she was +or would be. + +She was on her defence. "I told you I didn't know enough," she said. +"But I had never loved anybody before--in that way. Of course I gave +all the best that was in me." + +He caught his breath. It wouldn't have been she if she hadn't done that. +But what a treasure for a man to throw away! "He can't have been fit to +black your boots," he said, "or he'd have waited for you for twenty +years." + +She felt the need of a lighter note. "I should have been old and ugly by +that time," she said. + +"You'd have been neither. But if you'd lost all your looks you'd have +been just the same." + +She was touched by the almost impersonal conviction in his speech, and +comforted by his belief in her. But she was not yet ready. "It's very +kind of you to say that," she said. "He didn't think so. And I'm very +glad he didn't now. It took me a little time to get over it, but I +_have_ got over it. I don't want anything that I haven't got now. I love +my family, and they love me, and we're all going to be happy together +for a long time. Now, I think we'll go in." + +He rose obediently and walked back to the house by her side. She had +given him no opening such as he ardently longed for, no response that +might bid him hope. But he could wait for that. It would come in time, +if mortal man could do anything to induce it. + +As for her, she was in a more emotional state than appeared on the +surface. Such an experience as she had undergone--to love for the first +time, and to have the love rejected--could scarcely help hardening a +nature such as hers, yielding and trustful. But the hardening would not +set in until the wound became a scar; and he had opened it again, and +delayed the process. + +It served him better than he knew that he had done so. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A PRESENTATION + + +The old Rector of Surley was duly buried, and all his friends and +neighbours for miles round attended his burying. The Bishop was there, +sympathetic and urbane. He talked most kindly to the Misses Cooper, and +in such a way as once more to bring to their eyes those tears which the +abundant business of the past few days had almost dried up. And he was +closeted with Denis for nearly half an hour in the comfortable study of +which the young man had made himself the occupant. Thereafter he retired +to his niece's house, and spent a pleasant restful afternoon and +evening, not too much overcome with melancholy to enjoy the little +change. + +Had he said anything? The sisters had hardly been able to restrain +themselves from listening outside the door, and fastened upon Denis the +moment their illustrious guest had left the house. + +Denis frowned slightly. No, he had said nothing. + +What had they talked about then? They were not going to be put off in +that way, by the brother they had nursed, and smacked, not so many years +before. They supposed, rather sharply, that he and the Bishop had not +spent all that time together in silence. + +Denis did not give them much information, but left them to infer that +the Bishop's talk had just been that of a kind wise Father in God with a +young man setting out upon his life's work. They construed this into a +wish on his part to find out for himself whether this particular young +man was a suitable object for his patronage, and hoped afresh. If he had +_not_ been going to offer Denis the living, he would certainly have said +so, and advised him what to do when his curacy at Surley came to an end. +For a new incumbent would not want a curate. Denis would either stay on +as Rector or depart altogether. + +Two or three days went past. Denis went to London on business connected +with his father's estate, and having got there sent a telegram to say +that he should not be returning until the following day. + +His sisters did not quite like this. He had given no reason for staying +away over the night, and, if they would have disclaimed the right to +direct his movements, there was still a lingering idea in their minds +that they ought to be consulted about them. He had taken up no clothes, +and there was the hint of a suspicion that he had given them the slip; +also that he had stayed up to amuse himself, which would not be becoming +so soon after the sad event. Denis had always been extraordinarily +well-behaved, and wise and steady beyond his years. They prided +themselves a good deal on the way he had been brought up. He would not +do anything actually wrong; that they were sure of. Still, it was a good +thing that he would have them there to look after him. If he were +appointed Rector of Surley, he would want all the advice, and +direction, that they could give him, at his age. They had made it plain +to the Bishop, without, of course, obtruding themselves or their +desires, that he could rely upon them to give that advice and direction. + +The next morning the long-expected letter came. There was no doubt about +it. It was written in the episcopal hand and sealed with the episcopal +seal. Really, it was extraordinarily tiresome of Denis not to be there +to open it. + +It did not, however, take them quite half a minute to decide to open it +themselves. A longer period of hesitation would have made it appear that +it was not the most natural thing to do, as of course it was. Denis +would certainly have asked them to open it if he had known he would be +absent when it came, and after all, the letter was as important to them +as it was to him. + +They drew a long breath of delight and relief as they devoured its +contents together. As they told one another immediately afterwards, they +had really not dared to hope, but now their fears were set at rest it +was easy to see that nothing else could have happened. If only their +dear father could have known! + +They both thought of him, in the pleasure to which they now gave +themselves up. It would have sent him out of the world happy, the dear +old man. Really, if the Bishop had intended to present Denis all along, +he _might_ have stretched the point and relieved their father's mind of +its anxiety. + +When they had settled down to the news, and to their cooling breakfast, +a slight reaction set in. They felt all the fears and doubts with which +they had lived for so long rolling back upon them, though now they +should have been set at rest. Really, it _had_ scarcely seemed possible +that the living should be given to Denis, considering his youth, and his +Deacon's orders. Their talk for a time was almost as if they were +blaming the Bishop for his presentation, and covered most of the ground +that might have been taken by the Vicar of Abington, or other clerical +critics, of such an appointment. But this state of mind, induced by +fears too little allowed, and helped by the kind things the Bishop had +said in his letter, soon disappeared. There would be a great deal of +criticism to meet, and they at least must not show themselves to be +influenced by any of it. The Bishop had made the appointment of his own +free will, and on grounds that seemed good to him. They had done nothing +to urge him, nor had they pulled any strings. That was a great comfort +to them now, and they gave themselves and one another considerable +credit for it. Then they decided that they had better not say anything +about the appointment until Denis returned home. After all, the letter +_had_ been written to him, and the news could wait. This was their only +reference to the fact of their having opened the letter, and they felt +that it covered everything. + +But as Denis did not arrive by the train that would have brought him +home in time for lunch, and could not now be expected until six o'clock, +the news began to sit heavily upon them. They had been busy indoors all +the morning, and had had only to stifle the natural desire to tell the +servants. In the afternoon they went about the parish, and could not +forbear from encouraging several with whom they had dealings by telling +them that it was quite possible that they would not have to leave them +after all. But as they had said this before, though not perhaps with the +same satisfied look in their eyes, the secret was kept. + +They came home to tea, and now they longed for Denis's return, for the +news had burnt itself right through their lightly formed purpose, and +only the hour or so that they would have to wait for him prevented their +summoning all the servants, indoor and outdoor, and imparting to them +their triumph. + +There came a ring at the bell, and presently Mr. and Mrs. Mercer were +announced. Rhoda and Ethel cast a sharp and identical meaning glance at +one another before they rose to receive them. It said as plain as if +spoken: "_You_ won't be able to keep it in." + +Denis's absence was explained and commented upon. + +"I wanted to see him particularly," said the Vicar. "An old friend of +mine, who has somewhat broken down in health, needs an assistant priest +to go to him and do just the work that Denis has been doing here for +your dear father. It would be the very place for him, if--if he were +free to take it." He mentioned the name of his friend, of the pretty +village in Devonshire of which he was Rector, and the stipend offered, +while Rhoda and Ethel listened politely with meaning smiles on their +faces, and wondered how they could ever have liked this man. + +Mrs. Mercer saw the smiles, and though she did not understand their full +import divined something of their source. "Of course, dear," she said, +"we know it is _possible_ that Denis may be preferred to this living. In +that case this offer would be of no use to him. We only thought that if +he _wasn't_--! And my husband hasn't told you that there's a charming +little house, big enough for all three of you." + +"There was never really any chance of Denis's appointment here," said +the Vicar, not without annoyance. "It was quite right to humour the poor +old gentleman, as he so set his heart upon it; but Rhoda and Ethel are +far too sensible to have any such ideas themselves; and it would be +wrong too." + +Rhoda had once boasted that there was nothing of the cat in her, but she +enquired very sweetly, "And why wrong, Mr. Mercer?" + +"My dear girl," said the Vicar, "you know as well as I do. It would be a +job, and Bishops dare not perpetrate jobs in these days. And if you are +inclined still to cherish hopes of that sort, as it is perhaps not +altogether unnatural that you should, as you had to persuade your dear +father of it for so long, let me tell you at once that the appointment +has already been made, I am not at liberty to say in what quarter. But +you will hear about it very soon." + +It was Ethel who said, "Oh, really, Mr. Mercer! Did the Bishop tell you +that himself?" + +"You never told _me_, Albert, when you came back from the Palace +yesterday," said Mrs. Mercer in an aggrieved voice. + +"It was not the Bishop himself, of course," said the Vicar. "But I had +it on the best authority. Please don't ask me any more. The conversation +was confidential." + +"It wasn't _you_ it was offered to, dear, was it?" enquired his wife. +"No, I'm sure you would have told me that. I suppose Mr. Burgoyne must +have told you." Mr. Burgoyne was the Bishop's chaplain. + +The Vicar, like most self-important but weak men, was incapable of +keeping anything to himself under pressure, and when Rhoda said, as +sweetly as before: "If you've told us as much as that I think you +_might_ tell us who the living has been offered to. Secrets are +absolutely safe with us," he hummed and ha-ed, and then said: "Well, +Burgoyne did not actually extract a promise from me to keep it to +myself, but he gave me to understand,"--how grateful he was afterwards +to have put it in that way--"that Leadbetter was to have it. It would be +an appointment not altogether free from criticism. I believe that +Leadbetter has never held a parochial charge, but he has been Precentor +of the Cathedral for a great many years, and if good livings _are_ to be +given in that sort of way, which personally I think they should not be, +I don't know that the Bishop can be greatly blamed for giving it to +him." + +"_I_ think they should be given to men who have borne the burden and +heat of the day in the poorer livings," said Mrs. Mercer with a sigh, +for she had been encouraged to hope, and the hope was now dead. She +didn't ask herself why her husband had left her for nearly twenty-four +hours without telling her so. There were questions about him +occasionally which she refrained from asking herself. She _had_ asked +him why he seemed so bent upon going over to Surley that afternoon, as +they had previously decided to do something else. She would have +demurred to going if she had known that this piece of news was to be +imparted to Rhoda and Ethel. + +The time had come to speak. "Well, Mr. Mercer," said Rhoda, "either Mr. +Burgoyne didn't know what he was talking about, or else you +misunderstood him. I don't know what you mean by a job; I can't see one +in it myself, and I'm quite sure the Bishop wouldn't be capable of such +a thing; but he _has_ appointed Denis Rector of Surley, and in my +opinion, a very good appointment it is." + +"And in mine too," said Ethel. She did not add more, because the most +interesting thing to do at the moment was to watch the Vicar's face. + +There was no room for incredulity, with the announcement made in that +fashion. He could only stare. But the quality of his stare was such as +to give Rhoda and Ethel almost as much gratification as they had drawn +from the Bishop's letter. + +It was a gratification, however, that was broken in upon at once, for +Mrs. Mercer, when she had once taken in the announcement, was so beaming +and so sincere in her congratulations that they had to be met in +something of the same spirit, and the full flavour of the triumph was +lost. + +The Vicar, also, when he had recovered himself, added his +congratulations, and explained away as far as possible his previous +unfortunate expressions; explained also that Mr. Burgoyne's assumption +had been so near to being a direct statement that he must have been +mistaken himself as to the Bishop's intentions. He was listened to with +the utmost politeness, but was shown that he had not quite succeeded in +wiping away the mark made by the word 'job,' and was left with the +impression that if he was not very careful he would hear more of it. + +He was not in fact able altogether to hide his chagrin, although he knew +well that he was affording satisfaction in showing it. He took his wife +away as soon as politeness permitted, and what he said to her on the way +home did not add to her happiness in the stroke of good fortune that had +come to her friends. + +Rhoda and Ethel loudly, and almost indecently, exulted the moment their +backs were turned. Really, it was _too_ transparent. The man had got +over his disappointment at having his own absurd hopes dispelled, and +had come with no other purpose than to crow over them. _She_ had let +_that_ out. Fancy not saying a word to her about it! She was a good +little thing herself, and had really _meant_ it when she had said she +was pleased. She was worth a dozen of him, with his conceit and his +spite. Thank goodness there were not many clergymen like _him_ in the +Church. That sort of spirit did more harm to religion than any other. It +would really be almost better to have an evil-liver in a parish. Fancy +ever thinking that the Bishop could be taken in by _him_! He knew better +than _that_, at any rate. It had been a most painful exhibition, and the +sooner it was forgotten the better. + +It gave them something to talk about until Denis came home, when they +both flew at him with the news, Rhoda brandishing the Bishop's letter. +Questions as to what he had been doing, and why he hadn't let them know, +could wait. + +Denis's surprised displeasure at their action in opening the letter took +them aback. In their eagerness to impart the news they had forgotten +that there was anything irregular in the way they had obtained it. They +were not accustomed to accept criticism from their brother, but whatever +excuses may be made to one's self for opening letters addressed to +somebody else, when there is strong curiosity to be satisfied, the doing +so wears a different aspect when the excuses have to be made to that +somebody else. Denis listened gravely to what they had to say, and then +went off to his study, and his gravity and silence had this much effect +that they did not follow him there, as they would have thought +themselves justified in doing in almost any other circumstances. + +Nor did they see him again until they all three met in the drawing-room +before dinner. + +By that time the effect upon him of their well-meant action might have +been expected to have worn off, and they were ready to talk it all over +in the way he should have been prepared to do when they had first told +him. Really, he looked _quite_ like a Rector already, standing up before +the fire in his silk waist-coat, with a look of self-possession and +dignity that gave them a new idea of him. Perhaps they felt, as they +came in together and saw him standing there, that he was, after all, the +source from which the importance that was still happily to be theirs was +to be drawn, and that the manner in which they had hitherto borne +themselves towards him might have to be altered in some respects. + +Rhoda dropped a curtsey, and said: "Homage to the Rector of Surley"; and +Ethel followed suit. + +Denis did not smile. "Have you told anybody of the Bishop's offer?" he +said. + +Rhoda drew herself together. It was time this rebellious spirit was +crushed. "My dear boy," she said, "if you are still nursing a grievance +at our having opened the Bishop's letter, which, after all, concerns us +as much as it does you, do please get rid of it. It isn't a pretty +spirit. You have already shut yourself up for nearly two hours, in which +we might have been talking of the good thing that has happened; and +surely that is enough." + +He repeated his question. "Have you told anybody of the offer?" + +"We told nobody," said Ethel, "as the letter was written to you, until +Mr. and Mrs. Mercer called this afternoon. He had got it into his head +that the living had been offered to Mr. Leadbetter, and came over with +no other purpose than to tell us that, and see how we should take it. He +hadn't even told his wife. When he had crowed over us enough, of course +we had to tell him." + +"It would have been impossible to have kept it to ourselves without +acting a lie," added Rhoda. + +Denis considered this piece of information, and drew away from the fire. +"I'm very sorry you told him," he said, with his face half averted from +them. "I have already written to refuse the Bishop's offer. I don't feel +myself equal yet to the responsibilities of a parish. I want to do some +years' hard work in a town first." + +After a pause of consternation and incredulity, both sisters set on him +at once. How could he possibly have made such a decision? It was really +too outrageous. And without giving them the slightest warning! Couldn't +he trust the Bishop to know and do what was right? Why on earth hadn't +he taken their advice before doing such a thing? + +All the scandalised surprise came back to that, and it was the first +thing he answered, when the flood of speech showed signs of abating. + +"I didn't tell you," he said, "because I didn't think there was any +chance of the offer being made to me, and I wanted to avoid this sort of +discussion." + +Dinner was announced at that moment, and further discussion had to be +put off until the parlour-maid had left them to themselves and their +food for a time. The interval had been spent in almost complete silence, +all three of them nerving themselves for what was to come. + +All three began to speak at the same time, when the maid had shut the +door behind her; but it was Denis who continued his speech, his sisters +relinquishing theirs to listen to him. + +"You ought not to make this difficult for me," he said. "I made up my +mind long ago, and I'm sure I was right to do it. I didn't want to tell +our dear father, because his ideas on these things were old-fashioned, +and I don't think he could have seen it in its true light. But _you_ +ought to be able to. I'm very sorry for your own disappointment, but you +ought to be able to judge a matter like this on higher grounds." + +This speech gave them plenty of material, and the sharp attack was +renewed. How could he say such a wicked thing about their dear father! +And the idea of accusing _them_ of thinking about themselves in that +worldly way! He must know very well that all their thoughts had been for +him, and for the good of the parish in which they had worked nearly all +their lives. Please drop _that_ unworthy charge, if he could not see it +all in its proper light yet. + +There was plenty more of it, and he sat silent and flushed under the +attack. But so far it had only stiffened him. + +It is difficult for a domineering woman to relinquish the weapons which +temperament thrusts into her hands, but they came to see that they could +not move him by censure, and they descended to argument, as a half-way +house to reasoning, but not without showing annoyance that they were +forced to do so. + +Surely the Bishop must know better than he what was the right thing to +do in a matter like this! Wouldn't it be almost an impertinence to throw +the offer back in his face? He could see _that_, couldn't he? And it was +not only the Bishop; it was the dying wish of their dear father, which +really it was preposterous to set aside as merely old-fashioned. And +_they_ had no doubt about its being the right thing to accept, whatever +their opinion might be worth. Did he really feel justified in going +against the opinions of people so much older and wiser than himself? + +This was rather more difficult to meet. They were considerations that he +had spent much anxious thought over, during the long hour that he had +spent by himself. And he could not yet be quite certain that he had +solved them in the right way, though he had conscientiously followed the +light that was in him. Also, his sisters had established a considerable +authority over him, and he was uncomfortable in withstanding them. + +But he won through this stage, the contest being occasionally broken +into by the intrusions of the maid, and the intervals being spent in +bringing up more ammunition for the guns of argument. + +He could only decide such a matter on his own conscience, which had +given him a strong leading. He was quite sure that the Bishop would +respect his decision. Couldn't they accept it now as having been made, +and help him in looking forward and preparing for the new work he had +undertaken? + +This plea seemed to show a slight weakening. They drew from him the +admission that his letter of refusal had not yet been posted, and set +themselves ardently to induce him to reconsider it. Under the violence +of the attack he seemed to waver, though the streak of obstinacy in him, +almost more than the weight of his convictions, was all the time +stiffening him under the appearance of indecision, which was only the +result of not being able to find immediate answers to each and all of +their arguments. + +The battle moved its scene from the dining-room to the drawing-room, and +raged with varying degrees of heat until it was nearly time for family +prayers. It flared up hotly when Denis told them that he had spent the +night with the Vicar of the London parish of whom he had already +accepted a curacy; for he had to admit that he had been in negotiation +about it for some time, and they pointed out to him with some truth +that if he had told them of this, instead of keeping it himself as if it +were a shameful secret, all the present trouble would have been avoided. +And was it _possible_ that he had said nothing to the Bishop about it, +when he had had that long talk with him, and he had been so kind? + +In their offence at having been kept in the dark themselves, they had +not at once fastened upon this, the weakest of all places in the young +man's armour. Why had he not told the Bishop, in that talk in which the +announcement of such a decision would only have drawn the kindest +sympathy and the wisest advice? He had asked himself that question many +times during the hour he had spent by himself battling with his +temptation, and there had been no answer to it for which he could take +any credit to himself. + +For the temptation of the world, as represented by the Rectory of +Surley, had been almost overwhelming, and although he had set in hand +his arrangements under the belief that there was little likelihood of +its being offered to him, he had not had the courage to make the offer +impossible. He had set out to burn his boats by entering into +correspondence with the London Vicar, but he had not been able to bring +himself to apply the match, and it is doubtful if he would have done so +later if he had not spent that evening with the devoted priest who had +fired his spiritual ambition afresh. Coming down in the train he had +reproached himself greatly for his vacillation, and his boats had flared +up behind him in a most illuminating conflagration. He reproached +himself unsparingly for having, as he now saw, desired to gain from the +Bishop's views defence for a young man's burying himself at the outset +of his career in a comfortable country living, instead of trying to gain +from him support for his higher ambitions. But he could not disguise +from himself that his lack of frankness must appear most blameworthy to +the man to whom in such a talk he had owed frankness above all things, +and indeed, as he blushed hotly to think, simulated it. + +Well, he had committed a grave fault, and must abide its consequences in +lessened estimation of him by the man with whom he would have liked to +stand well. But to disguise the fault by taking a reward for it would +not help matters, and was an act which, in the sensitive state of +conscience he had reached, would be impossible to him. The very fact +that he had led the Bishop to imagine that he would be ready to accept +the responsibilities and emoluments of Surley now prevented his doing +so, more than any other fact. + +But it may be imagined how much of this his sisters were able to accept, +in their state of irritation and anger against him. They could only see +the inexcusable fault, and it seemed to them the strongest reason yet +advanced why he should obey their urging. + +The poor badgered young man rose from his seat of purgation, saying that +it was nearly time for prayers, but that he would rather not conduct +them to-night, not feeling in tune for them, and would go to his study. + +Then they fell upon him for wanting to avoid the very thing that would +most help him to come to a right decision, and pointed out how very +wrong his ideas must be since he could not even face his devotions. + +So the servants were summoned, and he read and prayed before his +household, and gained some solace and support from doing so. + +When prayers were over he said, in a quieter voice than they had +permitted him to use during the greater part of the contest, that he +could not discuss the question any more. If he had done wrong, as he +knew he had, he was now going to do right, and his letter of refusal +would be sent to the Bishop the next morning. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE SYSTEM + + +Except where his feelings were deeply involved, as they had been in that +matter of Beatrix's affair with the Marquis de Lassigny, George Grafton +was a man who exercised authority with an easy grace which those who +came within its sphere scarcely realised as authority, so much did his +wishes seem to comply with their own. His family appeared to possess and +to exercise complete liberty of action, and he to fall in with their +wishes as much as they with his. But this was because they all loved one +another, and they had kept him young between them. If any of them wanted +to do anything that he did not care about, he had only to say that he +didn't care about it, and they not only didn't do it, but didn't want to +do it, because there was nothing so well worth doing as pleasing him. +This was in small matters; but there had never been any big difference +of desire, except in Beatrix's affair, which he had not handled with his +wonted easy detachment. But in the way that had turned out he had proved +to have been in the right, in a good many ways which she had not been +able to see, and now did see; and his treatment of her during her +recovery from love's illness had restored his happy ascendancy, somewhat +shaken while the illness had lain heavily upon her. + +With his servants and dependants there was never any trouble at all. +They liked serving him, and took a pride in serving him well. In +business it was the same; but on the rare occasions on which he had had +to assert his authority he had done it with a decision that showed his +customary easy manner to rest upon strength, and not upon a weak +complaisance. + +In business negotiation he usually had his way, because he had always +made up his mind beforehand what his way was to be, and that it was +reasonable that he should have it. By this means he missed the _coups_ +that come from imposing unreasonable conditions on an opponent, but +gained a reputation for fairness and straightness of dealing which made +up for it. + +He was, in fact, a man of decision and character, under his amiable +easy-going exterior, and he was not afraid of a contest, though he +preferred not to enter one unless he thought he had a good chance of +coming out victor. + +It is doubtful, however, whether he had ever entered into one which +would provide such a test of his qualities, as when he decided to get +rid of the Vicar of Abington--the Reverend A. Salisbury Mercer, M.A. + +This was after the commotion occasioned by Denis Cooper's refusal of the +living of Surley had died down. + +The commotion had been considerable, and a good deal of it had been +created by the Vicar of Abington, who really had nothing to do with it +at all. Denis had now departed to his curacy in the East End of London, +and his sisters had betaken themselves to the Cathedral City of +Medchester, where they had many friends, or at least acquaintances, and +their activities could be made use of for the general benefit of their +fellow church-people. Mr. Leadbetter had been instituted Rector of +Surley, and it was beginning to be known that he had refused the +Bishop's offer of the living before it had been made to Denis, but had +thought better of it on going over to Surley, and finding that the +little church, otherwise undistinguished, possessed a remarkable roof +for sound. He was a bachelor, with plenty of money of his own, besides +what would come to him from his rectorate, and intended to provide a new +organ, and to train a small but exquisite choir to render a full musical +service, after the manner of Cathedrals and College Chapels, twice a +day. + +Grafton unfolded his resolve to Worthing, over the dinner table, when +the girls and Miss Waterhouse had left them to their cigars. + +"I'm going to get rid of Mercer," he said. "The fellow has become an +infernal nuisance, and I'm tired of him." + +Worthing stared at him, and laughed. "You can't do it," he said. "I +thought you knew better than that. You're the patron of the living, and +you appoint a man when it becomes vacant. But once appointed he sticks +there till he chooses to go. You've nothing more to do with it than +anybody else." + +"Oh, I know all that. When I say I'm going to get rid of him, I don't +mean that I've got the power to turn him out. But you can do a good many +things that you haven't got that sort of power over, if you go the right +way to work." + +"Well, I don't care much about Mercer myself, though I've always tried +to keep my opinion dark for the sake of peace. He's a tiresome fellow, +and that's a fact; but he's never done anything that he could be shifted +for. It takes a Bishop all he knows, and a devil of a lot of money +besides, to get rid of an incumbent who's a real wrong 'un. There was a +case over at Minbrook when I first came here." + +"I know that too. But to my mind a quarrelsome back-biting fellow like +Mercer does more harm in a community like this than many a man who kicks +over the traces in a way to give a handle against himself." + +"I quite agree with you there," said Worthing, allowing himself to be +diverted to this question of the welfare of a community, which he had +much at heart. "I'm glad you take that view of it. It's the right view +for a landholder to take, in my opinion. It's up to us who are running a +place like this to keep people contented and happy. It's the human side, +as I often tell young Bradby. You've got to be just in your dealings, +but there are lots of little points where the law seems to give you an +unfair advantage. I don't say it does, but it seems to, in the way +things are looked at now, with all this Radicalism about. You can run +things all right on the old system if you bring goodwill to bear, and +remember the people you're dealing with aren't any different to what +you are yourself. It seems to me that's the best thing about the old +system--the human contact between all parties concerned." + +"Well, the parson of a village ought to be the one above all others who +makes that contact. What's he there for otherwise?" + +"I agree with that too. I'm a good churchman, and all that, and of +course the religious side of it is important. But to my mind it's more +important still that he should be the friend of all his people, rich and +poor alike, so that they can go to him for anything, and find a friend +in him." + +"That _is_ the religious side of it, isn't it?" + +"I suppose it ought to be. But the parsons now-a-days seem to want to +run a country parish as they would a town one. We don't see much of it +hereabouts, except with Brill, and he's kept in order by Lady Mansergh. +Brill's a nice kind-hearted fellow too, and if it wasn't for all that +high falutin' church business, and changing all the services from what +they've been accustomed to, and shoving them off their perches +generally, he'd do as well as any country parson. Take a man like +Williams. He's a good deal more interested in his dogs and his +carpentering than he is in his church services, I should say. I don't +want to hold him up as a perfect example, but he's the friend of all his +parishioners. Beckley's a close-fisted landlord, and doesn't get on +particularly well with his tenants. But Williams often does them a good +turn with him. He's a _human_ sort of fellow. That's what I like about +Williams." + +"And that's just what Mercer isn't." + +Worthing had rather forgotten about Mercer, and his inclination to make +the best of people and give everybody a chance was strong in him. He +frowned slightly. "He's cantankerous," he said. "I can't deny that." + +"Yes, he's cantankerous, and a good many other things besides. There's +hardly a soul round about--of our sort, I mean--that he hasn't fallen +out with. When I first came here he warned me against the whole lot of +them, without exception." + +"Did he? Well, he oughtn't to have done that. I don't believe you'd find +a nicer lot of people, take 'em all round, anywhere in England." + +"That's what you told me, on the same day as he'd said the opposite, and +I'm more inclined to your opinion than his. Then he makes trouble in the +place itself. My girls and Miss Waterhouse are finding that out +constantly. There's always a lot of quarrelling going on, and if you +follow it up you generally find he has had a finger in the pie." + +"Well, I can't deny that either. I've often had to smooth over things +that he has put wrong. He is a tiresome fellow, and there's no denying +it. It would certainly be a good thing for the parish if he were got rid +of. Still he hasn't done anything that he could be got rid of for, and I +don't see how you're going to bring it about." + +"I'm going to ask him to go." + +Worthing stared and laughed again. "I should like to be there when you +do it," he said. + +"I don't think you would. If you thought I was getting the better of him +you'd want to take his part. That's what you're made like." + +"Oh, I don't know about that. But I do like to keep the peace." + +"If we can persuade Mr. Mercer to take himself off, I hope we shall get +somebody here who'll help you. We'd better go up to the girls now. +They'll be wanting their bridge." + +When the Vicar walked up to the Abbey the next morning in answer to +Grafton's note requesting an interview, it was with anticipations not +unpleasurable. Somehow, he had never succeeded in gaining the footing of +intimacy with his chief parishioners that he felt to be his due. It was +even some weeks now since he had been invited to the house, and he had +felt aggrieved about it, because in his position he ought to have been +the most frequent guest at the only other house in the place occupied by +such people as himself. + +It had not always been so. On the Graftons' first arrival he had felt +himself free to run in and out of the house on the most intimate terms, +and had always been sure of a welcome, as was only right and proper. It +had begun to steal over him lately, in wafts of cold suspicion, which he +had put away from him whenever they approached, that his welcome had +perhaps never been quite so warm as he had taken for granted. He had +also begun to suspect that certain criticisms he had passed upon the +Graftons--of course without meaning anything by them--might have come to +their ears, and accounted for the cessation of invitations, to lunch and +to dine, which had never failed even after the running in and out showed +itself to be not quite what they wanted. But this suspicion had +stiffened him against them. If they proved themselves difficult to get +on with, as so many people in this part of the world unfortunately did, +he was not the man to give in to them. He had his own position of +dignity and responsibility and would take his stand unflinchingly upon +that. It was the duty of a Squire and a parson to keep on good terms +with one another for the sake of example, especially when the people of +a parish were so quarrelsome and difficult to manage as they were at +Abington. He had done all he could to bring that happy state of things +about. If the other party was blind to the advantages, nay to the +Christian duty, of such an understanding, then he must pursue his course +unflinchingly apart. On no account would he knuckle under, and debase +his sacred profession. + +Still, he had no _wish_ to quarrel, and it was somewhat of a relief to +be asked to a consultation with Grafton, no doubt upon some measure of +importance in connection with the parish. There had been far too little +of that co-operation. A Squire might do so much to help a parson in his +devoted labours for the good of the community, and Grafton had done so +little, though on his first coming the Vicar had had strong hopes that +here was at last a man who would back him up, in his spiritual duties, +as he in his turn was only too anxious to give help and advice, in _all_ +matters, in return. + +But in spiritual matters he had even been denied what was undoubtedly +his due. Grafton had not even come to church regularly, nor put pressure +on his household to do so. The last was inexcusable. The Vicar could +make allowances for a man in Grafton's position who worked in London, +though not very regularly, and looked upon his days in the country as +holidays. But his servants ought to be _made_ to come to church. The +Vicar had felt so strongly about this that he had once told Grafton so, +and pointed out that he himself was always there in fair weather or +foul. Grafton had said that most of his servants did attend church +regularly, and none of them kept away altogether, and had not been able +to see that that was not the point. And pressed to exercise his +authority he had refused to do so. + +Then there was that point of Barbara's confirmation. Miss Waterhouse had +asked him the previous year whether he should be holding confirmation +classes, and he had said that he should, for the Advent confirmation, +but only for the young people of the village, and that of course Barbara +could not be expected to attend them. He had offered, at the sacrifice +of his own valuable time to prepare Barbara for confirmation by herself, +and Miss Waterhouse had thanked him, but had put the matter off. Then +when the time had drawn near, and he had raised the question, he had +been told that Barbara would not be confirmed that year at all. They +would be in London after Christmas and she would be confirmed in the +spring, at the church where her sisters had been. But they had not moved +to London after Christmas, and Barbara had not been confirmed. He had +asked about it and received an evasive answer. + +He was thinking of this, and getting nettled about it, as he walked +through the park to the Abbey, when it suddenly occurred to him that +this was probably what Grafton wanted to see him about. Well, if it was, +that would put a good many things right. He would pocket the offence +that he had felt and had been _right_ in feeling, at having had his +offer treated in the fashion it had been, and would renew it. Barbara +was a very interesting child--she was seventeen, and ought to have been +confirmed long ago--and he would enjoy his talks with her. By the time +he reached the house he was convinced that it was Barbara's religious +education that Grafton wished to see him about. + +He was received in the long, low library, with its ranks of mellow +russet books which no one ever read, its raftered ceiling, and its +latticed windows. It was the room which Grafton called his, but seldom +used except for business purposes or when men were staying in the house. +He was writing at a table at the far end of the room when the Vicar was +announced, and came forward to greet him at once with his pleasant +friendly air. It was no part of his intention to antagonise him. + +The Vicar began the conversation. "I wondered, as I came up," he said in +his pompous but would-be-intimate manner, "whether it was about +Barbara's confirmation you wanted to talk to me. She really ought to +have been confirmed last year, and the intention was that she should be +this spring, wasn't it? There will be a confirmation either here or at +Feltham later on in the year, and I shall be very pleased to prepare her +for it if you wish it. I could come here once or twice a week, or she +could come to me, whichever you preferred." + +Grafton was about to refuse, rather shortly, when he bethought himself. + +"Are you going to have a confirmation class?" he asked. + +"Oh, yes. But I shouldn't expect her to attend that. It's for the boys +and girls of the village. There are one or two farmers' daughters this +year, but nobody of the same class as Barbara. You couldn't--" + +"What has class got to do with it?" Grafton interrupted him. "I should +have thought in a matter like that everybody was equal." + +"Oh, well, if you take it like that!" said the Vicar, "_I_ think so, of +course, but--" + +"What should you teach her?" asked Grafton. + +"What should I teach her?" He seemed somewhat at a loss. "I shouldn't +teach her any Roman doctrine, if that's what you're thinking of. Good +Prayer Book doctrine, you know. At confirmation you take upon yourself +the vows that others have made for you in your Baptism. You'll find it +all in the Prayer Book. Careful preparation deepens the spiritual life, +at a time when the young soul is at its most malleable, and open to +religious impressions. It is a very blessed opportunity." + +He spoke with unction. Grafton looked as if he were suffering from a +slight nausea. "I don't care a bit about doctrine," he said. "I do +believe in Christianity, and I think I recognise its spirit when I see +it. I see it in my daughter Caroline. She hasn't a thought in her head +that isn't sweet and good. She never thinks of herself when there's +anybody else to think of. She does everybody good all round her, by just +being herself." + +The Vicar rather enjoyed theological discussion. "That's an interesting +point of view," he said. "And a very natural one. I admire Caroline +myself--enormously. But I should say hers was a natural goodness. Very +beautiful, of course, and something to thank God for; but not of +_itself_ religious." + +"Why not?" + +"Perhaps I should say not of itself Christian. You may observe the same +sort of goodness in people who don't follow the Christian religion--in +Buddhists and so forth. In the Christian religion we are taught to look +for Grace, and--" + +"Oh, well, grace or goodness--it's the same thing. I won't go on with +this; I didn't ask you to be good enough to come and see me to talk +about Barbara's confirmation. I shouldn't want you to prepare her. It's +yourself I want to talk about. You're not very comfortable here at +Abington, are you? You don't care for the people round you, and you find +it difficult to get on with the villagers." + +The Vicar's mouth opened. "I don't understand you," he said. + +"I know that as patron of this living I've no sort of authority over the +man who holds it, or anything of that sort; but I might be able to ease +the wheels a bit if you saw your way to exchanging it for another. I +believe such things are done. I don't know whether you've ever thought +about it." + +The Vicar was still at a loss. "The living is certainly not much of a +prize," he said, with a laugh. "It couldn't be held except by a man with +private means of his own--considerable private means. If you had any +idea of raising the endowment--" + +"Well, I might do that--or add to the income, or whatever it might be, +for a man who could make himself happy here, and get on with us all. I +won't beat about the bush, Mercer. You seem to have got at loggerheads +with everybody here, and it's no more comfortable for us than it is for +you. You haven't fallen out with us yet, but I can't help feeling it may +come any time. If I could do anything to make it easy for you to get +away from a place where you don't find congenial society, we could part +on good terms now, and it might save trouble in the future." + +The Vicar now understood that the proposal was not to raise the +endowment of the living for his own benefit. He had not yet grasped the +fact that he was being invited to quit. + +"I can only say that if you and I fall out it won't be my fault," he +said. "It's quite true that the people round here--your sort of people, +I mean--are a cantankerous lot." + +"Well, I don't find them so, Mercer. I don't find them so." + +He did not like being contradicted in this resolute fashion. "I'm afraid +we must agree to differ on that point then," he said stiffly. + +"It's the _whole_ point, Mercer. It isn't only one or two you've managed +to fall out with; that might happen to anybody, though if sensible +people manage to fall out with their neighbours they generally manage to +fall in again sooner or later. It's the whole lot. When we first came +here you warned me against every single family about here we were likely +to make friends with, except two. And you've fallen out with them +since." + +He now understood that he was being brought to book, and he liked that +less than anything. He grew red and gobbled like a turkey cock before he +spoke. + +"This is a most unwarrantable attack," he said. "Did you ask me to come +here to receive a lecture from you, Mr. Grafton?" + +"I asked you to come here to see if we couldn't come to some mutual +understanding that needn't reflect upon you if we can do so. My reasons +for wanting a change made are likely to be painful to you, I know, and +probably surprising as well. But I must state them if anything is to +come of it. So I do so as directly as possible. If you'll accept them, +and talk it over on the grounds that I should like a change made, so +much the better. Then we needn't go over the reasons any more." + +"You'd like a change made." He understood it now, and summoned all his +powers of resistance, and resentment. "And you really think, Mr. +Grafton, that because you've bought this property, and live in the +biggest house on it, you can order things in that way. Let me tell you +that there is one house in this parish that you have _not_ bought, and +that is my humble Vicarage. You have no more right to dispose of that +than you have of--of the Bishop's Palace at Medchester. You--" + +"Can't we talk over things reasonably, Mercer? If I thought I had that +sort of power, I should make some attempt to exercise it, shouldn't I? I +shouldn't be asking you if we can't come to some understanding." + +"And what understanding on such a subject is possible, I should like to +know. You want me to go; that's the plain truth of the matter. Do you +think I'm not a fit person to exercise my duties here, may I ask?" + +Grafton was silent, with a silence that was significant. + +There was a drop in the temperature. "For my own satisfaction this must +be cleared up," said the Vicar, speaking with dignified restraint. "If +you have any charges to bring against me I must know what they are, so +that I can meet them in the open." + +"There are no charges, Mercer, to be met in that way. I've told you +already why I should like a change made, if you can bring yourself to +consider it. It isn't only the people of our own sort, as you say, that +you don't get on with. You're at loggerheads with half your parishioners +at one time or another. My girls are always coming across it, wherever +they go. They're keen--Caroline is especially--to make friends with the +people in the place, and for us who live here in a certain relation with +them to do what we can for them. It's one of the pleasures of +landholding to be given that sort of opportunity. We've all of us come +to see that. I believe we should be as happy and contented a community +as you'd find anywhere, if--well, if it weren't for you, Mercer. I don't +want to be offensive, but that's what it comes to." + +The Vicar was trembling with anger. "But this is outrageous," he +exclaimed. + +"Oh, I don't think so," said Grafton easily. "I've no wish to offend +you, but it seems to me that the state of things I want here is worth +taking that risk for. I tell you plainly that you seem to me such a +difficulty in the way of it that if you go on here I can't continue to +offer you the friendship of myself and my family. In ordinary life, if a +man you know is continually acting in a way you don't like, you drop +his acquaintance, or if it's necessary you fight him. I don't want to +fight you, and I don't suppose you want to fight me. I've said enough to +show you that I've reasons which seem to me important for wanting to +come to the understanding with you that I've indicated. I don't want to +argue about them, or to push them in. They're there. I'll ask you to +think over what I've said. Anything I can do to make it advantageous and +agreeable to you to find some other place to work in, I will do; and if +you decide to go, well, as far as people outside will be able to see, +you and we will part as friends, and you'll be going, of course, of your +own free will." + +He rose from his chair, and the Vicar rose at the same time. He had an +enormous amount to say, but found it difficult to say it as Grafton +walked down the long room, opened the door for him, and accompanied him +through the dining-room into the hall. + +"It wants thinking over, I know," said Grafton, taking no notice of his +beginnings of sentences. "You can't decide this sort of thing in a +hurry. If you and Mrs. Mercer will come and dine with us to-morrow +night, you and I could have a friendly talk about it afterwards and see +if there's anything to be done. Caroline will write Mrs. Mercer a note." + +The Vicar was on the doorstep, still striving for speech. Grafton said +good-bye to him, and returned to the library. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE VICAR'S DECISION + + +Grafton didn't tell Caroline to write her note of invitation to Mrs. +Mercer until the next morning. It was sent to the Vicarage by hand, with +instructions to the bearer to wait for an answer. + +Mrs. Mercer took it into her husband's study. In the ordinary way she +would have done this with some expression of gaiety and pleasure, for +she took such variations of life as happy surprises, and could be moved +to excitement even by an invitation to a flower-show, with a garden +party attached. + +But this time her face did not light up as she opened and read the note, +and only the thought of the waiting messenger sent her to her husband's +room at once. + +"Here is an invitation from Caroline for us to dine at the Abbey +to-night," she said, with a grave face. "Do you wish me to accept it?" + +The Vicar was very busy. He looked up from his writing as if he could +hardly detach his thoughts from what he was doing, and said: "What is +to-night? Thursday. There's nothing on, I think. Yes, accept it." Then +he turned to his writing again. + +Mrs. Mercer wrote her answer and sent it out. When she had done so she +sat with a thoughtful look upon her face for some time, which gradually +changed to one of decision. Then she went in to her husband's study +again, and shut the door after her as if she meant to stay there. This +was unusual. She was not made to feel herself welcome in that room in +the morning hours. + +She was not to be made welcome now. The Vicar had left his writing-table +and was walking up and down the room, with a look on his face that was +not pleasant to see. It didn't grow any more pleasant as he saw her shut +the door behind her with that air which meant that she had something +serious to say to him. "My dear, you're just interrupting me in a train +of thought," he said in an annoyed voice. "If you want to talk about +anything do please wait until lunch time, or at least until the post +comes. I shall have a few minutes to spare then." + +For answer she sat herself down in a high-backed chair which stood by +the empty fireplace. "Albert," she said, "I must speak to you. Things +are wrong with us all round, and I am kept out of it all. If I am to be +a true wife to you, and stand by your side in all the difficulties and +troubles which come to us with the people round, I ought to know what is +going on, and not be kept in the dark, as you always keep me." + +Tears stood in the little lady's eyes. She had been such a good loyal +wife to him, putting all her money at his disposal, and allowing him to +treat it as if it were his own, and even as if she ought to be thankful +to him for the comfortable home that he could not have given her +himself. She had never felt any disturbance of mind on that score, and +did not feel any now. They were one, and hers was his. But for the trust +and obedience she had given him, never questioning his wisdom, nor +failing to take his side in the repeated disputes and estrangements that +had come about between them and their neighbours, he did owe her return. +The time had come when she could no longer go on putting her whole trust +in him, if he did not show some corresponding trust in her. + +He stopped in his walking up and down, and stood before her, the +arrogant frown and look on his face which she knew so well. But +something now told her that she must not be awed into submission by it, +as previously she had always been. + +"Really, I don't understand you," he said. "You must leave me to conduct +my own affairs in my own way, as you have always done. You can help me +in the difficulties I have in my work--and they are heavy enough, God +knows, with the sort of people I have to deal with here--by giving me +peace and quietness in my own home. You can help me in no other way. The +troubles I have fall upon my own shoulders, and I am acting rightly by +you in trying to keep you unaffected by them." + +"But they do not only fall upon you," she said quietly. "We make friends +with people, and everything seems to be going happily; and then suddenly +we are not friends any longer. Often I have had to find it out for +myself, and sometimes you don't even tell me what has happened to cause +the change. It was so with the Beckleys. I have never known why we left +off being friends with them. And I have never known why there was such +disturbance before Mollie Walter was married. It would have been +natural, as she was almost like your own daughter, as you so often used +to say, that she should have been married from here, and that Mrs. +Walter should have stayed on at the Cottage until after she was married. +But her house at Wilborough was hurried on for her so that Mollie could +be married from there, and you were not even asked to take part in the +ceremony." + +He had resumed his pacing of the room during the progress of this +speech, and his look was not so arrogant as it had been. + +"I certainly don't propose to go into old questions of that sort," he +said. "They are over and done with, and--" + +"I don't wish to go into them either," she said. "I didn't press you to +take me into your confidence then, and I won't do it now. But I think +you ought to tell me what has been the trouble with the Graftons. You +have criticised them from time to time, as you criticise everybody,"--he +frowned at this sentence, which was unlike any she had ever used to +him--"but we have been on friendly terms with them for over a year. At +first we were on _very_ friendly terms with them, and you used to go to +the Abbey in just the same way as you used to run in and out of Stone +Cottage. They have always been as nice as possible to me, but I +couldn't help seeing that they were not as friendly towards you as they +had been. When you left off going there in the intimate way you did at +first, they still asked us to the house fairly often. But this +invitation to dinner to-night is the first we have had from them for +weeks." + +He did not usually allow her to speak at this length without +interrupting her, but when you are brought to book about anything it is +as well to know exactly what you have to meet. It may not after all be +so difficult to meet it as you had anticipated. + +It was with something like his customary tone that he said: "We have +often discussed the Graftons together, and you know well enough that +there are many things about them which I, as a priest of the Church, +cannot approve of. If there has been any decline of intimacy between us +it is for that reason and that reason alone. They are not what I thought +they were when they first came here, and though in the position in which +I stand towards them I must do my best to keep the peace for the good of +the parish, I shall not surrender one jot or tittle of what I stand for +here, for the sake of keeping in with the rich man of the parish." + +It sounded very well to him, but she rather spoilt it by asking in a +quiet voice: "What do you stand for here, Albert?" + +Whether or not the necessity of explaining to her the whole gist and +meaning of the Ordination Service withheld him from replying to her at +once, she had time to go on before he spoke. + +"I haven't been able to prevent myself asking that question lately," she +said. "I was very much troubled by the way you behaved"--another phrase +to which his ears were quite unaccustomed from her--"about the Coopers. +When you thought that the Bishop had offered Surley to Mr. Leadbetter +you didn't tell me anything about it, but you took me over there so that +you might tell _them_, though you knew what disappointment it would +bring them. Then when they told you that the living had been offered to +Denis, you congratulated them, but you spoke in such a different way to +me as we came home; and you did your best to stir up trouble about it +before you knew that Denis had refused the offer. And even when that did +come out, you couldn't give him any credit for what was a fine action on +his part, as I think, but could only talk about the way his sisters were +served right in doing what they had, and put it about what they had +done, to discredit them." + +The Vicar had in fact arrived at the conclusion that Rhoda and Ethel had +opened the Bishop's letter addressed to their brother, which it is +probable that no one else would have guessed at; and righteous +indignation at such an action had been his chief contribution to the +talk that had resulted from the Bishop's offer and its refusal. It was +somewhat disturbing to find that his wife had not taken that indignation +at its face value. He defended himself at some length against her charge +of uncharity, but her silence and her downcast look warned him that he +was not impressing her, and as the ground was not of the strongest he +relinquished it. + +"But we will have an end to all this," he said, catching at his +authority, so unexpectedly being questioned. "I can quite see that my +silence as to the Graftons may have been misunderstood by you. The fact +is that for months I have been coming to see that my position here will +become impossible unless the Graftons refrain from meddling in affairs +which are my concern and not theirs. I went down to the Abbey yesterday +to have it out with Grafton once and for all. Either I must be allowed +my own way here in matters which appertain to my office, and that must +be definitely understood, or else I must fight for it, and all pretence +of intimacy and friendship must be abandoned between us. Matters have +come to a crisis. I found Grafton quite irreconcileable. He takes his +stand, as a rich man of that type always does, upon his money." + +"Oh, Albert!" she exclaimed. + +"I don't mean to say, of course, that he mentions his money, but it +comes down to that. He has bought this place, and imagines that he has +bought all the people who live in it body and soul. I told him very +plainly that he had not bought me, and that I was not for sale, and I +flatter myself that I have given him something to think about. I was at +first very angry, as you no doubt saw when I came home, but I have been +thinking long and earnestly too. If you had not come in just now with a +series of accusations which are really quite unjustified and +exceptionally painful in the midst of a crisis of this sort, I should +have told you in a very short time where my deliberations had led me. +They are serious enough, and as you are concerned in the matter as well +as myself, I should have consulted you before making any actual +decision. But I feel that I can no longer go on here under such +conditions. The work I have spent some of the best years of my life over +is made of no avail, and to go on with it would only be to invite +further failure. Better face all the distress of a complete break, and +the expense of a move, and get away from the place. I had almost made up +my mind to do that, and if you give me your concurrence I shall take the +step without further hesitation. You know that when Sherlock sent the +photograph of that charming little house at Darthead, which he was +prepared to put at the disposal of anybody who would go and help him +there, you said you wished we were in a position to go ourselves. Well, +let us go, I say. It will mean some sacrifice of means, and I shall not +be the ultimate authority at Darthead, as I have been here. But there +will be less to keep up, and with an older man than he had anticipated +getting, Sherlock would only be too glad to give a free hand. In fact he +said that if he could get somebody whom he could thoroughly trust, he +should try to get away for a year at least, and leave his curate in +complete charge. Are you ready to make this new departure with me, +Gertrude, and support me loyally in my reasons for making it?" + +By the time he had come to the end of this speech, he had forgotten the +beginning. But she had not, and a proposal that otherwise would have +found her enthusiastic, for she liked change, and the photograph of the +house at Darthead had pleased her enormously, left her for the time +unmoved. For his account of his interview with Grafton by no means +tallied with certain facts in her own possession. + +His representation of himself as disapproving of the Graftons to such an +extent that he had finally been forced to deliver an ultimatum was one +of them. He had overwhelmed them with censure when he had thought he had +anything to complain about, but any approach on their part to intimacy +had always been responded to by him, and it was only when it showed +signs of dropping again that he had reverted to his attitude of +disapproval. That disapproval had certainly increased during the last +few months, in which the intimacy had been withheld, but he had shown +himself almost delighted to receive Grafton's note asking him to come +and see him, and had certainly not gone down to the Abbey with any idea +of delivering an ultimatum. He had returned in what was almost a fury, +and she had sat silent and depressed while he had covered the whole +Grafton family with abuse, but had not told her anything of what the new +trouble was about; nor had she asked him. And yet he had made no +difficulty about her accepting Caroline's invitation to dinner that +evening. No doubt he had persuaded himself of the truth of what he was +saying, even as he said it, as his way was. But it carried no +conviction to her. + +"I think," she said quietly, "that it would be better for us to go away +from here if we cannot keep friends with any one about us." + +Something warned him not to take exception to this speech, or to +expatiate further upon the offences he had received. "We can put all +that behind us now," he said. "I have not been able to make headway +against the forces arrayed against me here, and it will be better for us +to start entirely afresh. There is no need to keep up any ill-feeling +against even the Graftons. That is why we can dine with them to-night, +on the old friendly terms. If I had not decided to leave the place we +should have been obliged to refuse their invitation. I think you will +find no unpleasantness there, if you do and say nothing to arouse it +yourself. When they hear we are going, perhaps they may even be rather +sorry. Whoever comes here after me--Grafton will have to find somebody +himself, and I wish him luck of the job, for a living of this value--I +don't think he will easily find a more devoted parish priest than I have +been, or a Vicar's wife more ready to do her duty than _you_ have been, +my dear." + +This tribute, thoroughly deserved but so rarely paid by him, did not +bring instant grateful delighted response from her, as usually it would +have done. Her eyes had been forced open, and could not be closed again +by a careless word of compliment. She knew that even in his last speech +he had not spoken the entire truth to her. His easy words, and his +sudden changes, for which there was always a reason, but a reason that +would not stand any test of sincerity, sounded different to her now. +Would she ever be persuaded and convinced by them again? + +He hardly knew how much of truth and how much of falsehood there was in +his words himself. Although he had played lightly with the idea of going +to Darthead--his friend had asked him if he knew of a curate, but it was +not certain that he would accept the offer he would make of himself, or +that he had not by this time found one--all his thoughts had been taken +up with the fight he was going to have with Grafton. It was to have +begun that very evening over Grafton's dinner table, with a statement of +exactly where he stood that should be unmistakeable. Yesterday he had +been unprepared, but now he had his speeches ready; he had been +rehearsing some of them when his wife had come in to him. Grafton would +knuckle under; men of the Vicar's temperament never allow for answers to +the speeches they compose beforehand. + +He had not projected his mind clearly into the future, as to what should +happen after he had gained his victory. Grafton had said that if he +stayed on at Abington he should no longer treat him as a friend. Perhaps +he imagined him so overcome by his defeat that he would hardly dare to +hold aloof from him. Perhaps a little whisper of reason in a corner of +his mind prepared him for that complete revulsion of feeling which came +to him under his wife's unexpected attack, and made him as eager to +escape the contest, and to go, as a few minutes earlier he had been to +engage in it and to stay on immoveable. + +He had hardly had time to gauge the importance of her change of attitude +towards him. He had not been able to beat down her awkward enquiries +into his conduct as previously he had always nipped the mildest of +protests from her, and kept his dominance over her. But he was far from +suspecting that his reign of unreason was over. She had gone farther in +questioning, and even criticising him, than ever before, but he only had +to treat her with a little more care to bring her to his feet again, +accepting and for the most part admiring everything that he said or did. + +But another little whisper of caution from a corner of his mind warned +him that he had better cut the knot of the difficulties which had at +last aroused that spirit of revolt in her, get away from it all, and +start afresh. His mind swung round instantly to a strong desire to get +away from it all, and with credit to himself. Before he had finished the +speech in which he broached his new-found intention to her, he saw +himself leaving Abington with the warmly expressed regrets of his +parishioners in his ears; and, if the vision of an illuminated address +and a handsome piece of plate did not present itself to him quite so +early, it did later. + +The next morning Grafton went down to his Estate Office in the village +to see Worthing. They had a little business to transact together. When +it had been finished Grafton said, "By the bye, the Mercers dined with +us last night. They brought rather a surprising piece of news. Mercer +has made up his mind that he has borne the heat and burden of the day in +Abington long enough. He is going to retire, and live in Devonshire--in +a village where he can do a little clerical work for a friend." + +Worthing stared at him open-mouthed, and then laughed heartily. "By +Jove, you're a wonder," he said. "How did you do it?" + +"How did I do what? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm telling +you about Mercer. It's a charming house they're going to. Mrs. Mercer +brought a photograph of it. Mercer doesn't want to live in idleness. +Though he's borne the burden and heat of the day in this humming hive of +population, he still feels he has a few more years of work in him for +the good of the community. He isn't going to be a curate exactly; he's +going to help his friend, if he doesn't fall out with him--but he didn't +say that." + +"Is he really going, or are you pulling my leg?" + +"Why should I pull your leg? He's going next month. He's already looking +about for somebody to get up a testimonial to him. He didn't tell me +that either, but I gathered it. He hoped there'd be no fuss. He'd prefer +to say good-bye to his friends and go quietly--no illuminated addresses, +or anything of that sort. But I gathered that he won't refuse one if it +is offered. I rather fancy he has you in his mind, James, as the right +person to see about it." + +"I'm damned if I do," said Worthing. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A MORNING RIDE + + +Caroline and her father rode out very early one morning at the beginning +of June. One of the habits they had formed was to seize to themselves +the delicious freshness of the new day, unspoilt by the smoke and stir +of towns. + +She and he were alone at the Abbey. After more than a year in which the +London house had scarcely been used, they were beginning to discuss the +advisability of giving it up altogether. They discussed it now as they +rode across the dewy grass of the park, on their way to the high ground +which would bring them to their favourite view across miles of southward +facing country to the sea. + +"You see, darling," Caroline was saying, "we always want to be here when +we are there, and we very seldom want to be there when we are here. +Beatrix generally stays with Aunt Katharine or Aunt Mary, anyhow, and +you like staying at your Club if you have to go up alone. Now that +Barbara has gone to Paris the Dragon won't have to be in London to look +after her, as we thought she must if she went up for classes." + +"And what about you, Cara? You shirked most of your London gaieties last +year. Are you going to cut yourself off from them altogether?" + +She laughed happily. "Fancy wanting London gaieties when you can have +this!" she said. "I sang for joy this morning when I woke up and found +myself here instead of in London." + +"Yes, that's all very well," he said. "I feel like that myself, though I +suppose that at my age no satisfaction is quite as hilarious as it is at +yours. But it isn't only the gaieties that you miss by cutting yourself +off from London. It's being in the swim. When you've been in the swim as +long as I have, you know how much of it is necessary to you and how much +isn't. And you don't lose all that you've gained for yourself when you +begin to sit lightly to it all. But you have to gain it first." + +"I'm not sure that I want to gain more than I have," she said. "I have +heaps of friends, and we see a good many of them down here. I like +seeing those who really do count in that way; you get to know them +better. It's the background of life that I love so in the country. You +belong to yourself more. Things come to you and you don't have to go out +to find them. I believe you feel that too, Daddy." + +"Yes, I do," he said, "more than I should have thought possible a year +ago. But still I can't see that it is quite the right thing for you to +bury yourself down here entirely." + +"Don't you feel that it's nice to have me here to welcome you when you +come home?" she asked. + +"Oh, my darling," he said, "nothing could be better--for me. It's you +I'm thinking of." + +Barbara had been sent off, protesting, to a 'family' in Paris a +fortnight before. She was to come home in August, when Young George +would also come home for his summer holidays; otherwise she had declared +she would not consent to go at all. Beatrix was in London with Lady +Handsworth, enjoying her second season, but not with quite the same +youthful abandon as she had enjoyed her first. Miss Waterhouse was away +visiting, but would come back shortly, either to Abington or to the +house in Cadogan Place, wherever the headquarters of the family should +be. Caroline after a week in London had pressed for Abington, and had +had her own way. It was true that her way would bring most pleasure to +her father. His centre of gravity had changed from London to the +country. Except on occasions, his work occupied him not more than three +days a week, and with her at Abington his home was indisputably there, +as it would not have been otherwise. But he was getting to be a little +anxious about this increasing disinclination of hers to follow out the +life that seemed natural for a girl of her birth and upbringing. Both +his sisters-in-law had spoken to him about it, Lady Grafton as well as +Lady Handsworth. She was not doing herself justice. They knew that he +did not want to give her up, and there was no necessity for her to marry +just yet. But she ought not to cut herself off from the surroundings in +which girls of her sort did find husbands, the surroundings in which he +himself, and all of them, had found wives and husbands. + +He had felt the force of this. Though he hoped to keep Caroline with him +for a time longer, the thought of her eventual marriage was never quite +absent from his thoughts about her. He did not want it to be, +necessarily, what is called a brilliant marriage, though with a girl of +Caroline's beauty and charm the most brilliant of marriages would not be +more than her due; but he did want her to marry among the people with +whom both sides of her family had been connected now for some +generations past, and that was conditional, as it seemed to him, upon +her keeping 'in the swim.' There was an idea at the back of his mind +that her whole-hearted love of a country life was rather unsettling her +for the right sort of marriage. It seemed actually to have been +responsible for her unwillingness to accept the young man whom for some +time past he had thought, not without satisfaction, that she might +marry. Francis Parry was still in love with her, and a year ago she had +refused him in such a way as not to have made him relinquish all hope of +winning her. The young man had told Grafton so rather pathetically not +so long before. He had not bothered her, he had said, but wasn't she +getting tired of shutting herself away from everybody? Was his chance +absolutely gone? + +The question had made Grafton bethink himself. When Caroline had +definitely refused Francis for the second time a year before he had been +well content to have it so. She had said that she had always liked him, +and given her father to understand that when she should be ready to +marry he would be such a husband as she would choose. It was because she +was so happy at home that she did not want to marry yet. But now he was +not so sure that it would be a man of the type of Francis Parry whom she +would choose. She seemed to have moved away from the sort of life he +represented, which was exactly the sort of life that he himself had +represented, and to which his daughters had been brought up. The fact +that he had refrained hitherto with her from any reference to the young +man's plea, although they had talked him over together frankly enough +before, showed the extent of his doubts about her. Although he +sympathised with her strong preference for this quiet stay-at-home +country life, and to a large extent shared it, it seemed almost as if +she were moving away from him. + +They came to the high beechwood from which the famous view was to be +seen. They sat on their horses, and drank in the tonic air which came +from the sea across miles of open country. The sun was now high in the +sky, and a line of silver in the far distance fulfilled their +expectations. For in most conditions of atmosphere the view of the sea +was by faith and not by sight. + +"Isn't it heavenly!" said Caroline. "Oh, Dad, you must leave me to this; +I want to live all my life with it. I shouldn't mind if I never saw +London again." + +They were going to breakfast at Grays, the seat of the Pemberton family. +Bertie Pemberton, the only son, had married a few months before Mollie +Walter, who had lived with her mother in a cottage at Abington. He also +had forsaken London, to settle down to a country existence for the rest +of his life. It had been necessary for him 'to do something' before +succeeding to the parental acres, and the something he had chosen to do, +after enjoying himself for three years at Oxford, was dealing with +stocks and shares. This pursuit would appear to be singularly fitted for +a young man with connections but no exaggerated equipment of brain +power. But he was a countryman at heart, as had been all his forebears. +A few years 'in the City' were his tribute to the larger life. Upon +marriage he was quite content to close that chapter. There was enough +for him to do with the management of his father's estate as a serious +occupation, and with the sports of the field as one hardly less serious. + +An old stone-roofed farmhouse, restored and refitted to make it a +suitable home for an heir-apparent, was now Mollie's habitation. It +stood a little way back from the road, and as Grafton and Caroline rode +up she came flying down the flagged path from the house door to greet +them. She was like a vision of the summer morning in her sparkling +bridal happiness. Caroline embraced her warmly when she had dismounted, +with more emotion than she could have expressed. The happiness of others +is a moving thing, especially when it rests upon love; and Mollie was +supremely happy. Her husband, with a loud-voiced geniality which showed +him at least to have nothing to complain of in life, followed her out +and added his welcome. Thereafter there was talk and laughter, pride of +new possession and sympathy with it, until it was time for the Graftons +to ride home again. + +"Isn't it lovely to see them so pleased with themselves?" Caroline said, +when she had waved her last farewell. "Do you remember Mollie a year +ago, how shy and retiring she was? She is like a different creature +now." + +"Master Bertie is a different creature too," said her father. "He's +always been noisy, but I like the sort of noise he makes now better than +I did." + +"He adores Mollie," said Caroline, "and she is just the wife for him. I +love to see them together. You see, Dad, it isn't necessary to fag about +in London as a preparation for marriage. Mollie has hardly ever been +there." + +She seemed to have divined his inmost thoughts, and her speech surprised +him a little. "Have you been thinking about that?" he asked. + +"No," she said. "I'm quite happy with you, darling, if only you will +leave me peacefully to look after you at Abington." + +Her words gave him pleasure, but his conscience was aroused about her. +"Lord knows I am happy enough to have you," he said. "But I can't keep +you for ever. You'll want what Mollie has some day." + +"Some day," she said. "Yes. But I have all I want for the present." + +"What about Francis?" he asked, after a short pause. "He wants you as +much as ever. He told me so." + +She looked troubled. "I know he does," she said. "He told me so too." + +He waited for her to go on. + +"I like him as much as ever," she said, "for what he is." + +"For what he is!" he echoed. + +"What he is isn't what I want now," she said, not without hesitation. +"It would be different if I were in love with him, as I suppose he is +with me,--poor Francis! If I felt like that I should not mind what I did +or where I went with him." + +"My dear child, you talk as if he'd take you out to the wilds. You'd +live where you liked, within reach of London. He has to stick to it +closer than I do, at present. You couldn't live right away, like this. +But--" + +"Oh, it wouldn't be the same," she said. "But it isn't that, Dad. I +don't love him. I thought I might, perhaps, last year, enough to live +whatever life he liked with him. But now I know I never can. He isn't +what I want." + +"What do you want?" he asked, throwing a glance at her. + +"Only you, darling," she said lightly. "Don't worry me about Francis. +I'm worried about him a little myself, because I do like him, and we're +friends. But he'll get over it, and find somebody else. I'm heart-free, +Dad. Really I am. I love you and B, and Barbara and Bunting, and the +Dragon, and every single soul who lives at Abington, except Lord +Salisbury; and he's going soon. When I begin to love somebody else I'll +let you know. I don't suppose you'll have me on your hands all your +life, but you'll have me for a good long time to come. Let's have a +canter." + +He was pleased enough. If she had wanted to marry Francis Parry he would +have resigned her, and felt that it was the right thing. But he didn't +want that, or any other marriage for her, yet. He only wanted to be sure +that he was not keeping her selfishly; and her words, and more than her +words, her tone, relieved him of any doubt on that subject. And her love +for Abington, and her wish to make his home for him there suited him. +She was more his at Abington than she could be in London. + +But he made up his mind that the succession of guests should not fail at +Abington. She must not live out of the world, as he and his like +estimated the world, at her age. He did not want her to become like the +three loud good-natured horsey Pemberton girls, who in spite of their +parentage and their wide relationships would always be country cousins, +wherever they went. Country cousins who came from such a house as Grays +were well enough in their way, but it was not the way of the world that +Caroline belonged to, the world that she was so fitted to adorn, and +they were not. + +They had cantered across a high-lying common, and descended into a +country lane along which they walked their horses, ready for +conversation again. The hedges on either side of them were pink and +white with May; the golden carpet of early June was spread all over the +meadows; the trees wore their dress of freshest green; larks sang in +high ecstasy overhead. Grafton felt the delight of the unused untroubled +country, but though it was a rest and a refreshment to him, his life was +bound up with other things that took him away from it, even while he was +enjoying it. Stealing a glance at his girl's much-loved face, he caught +something of what it was to her to soak herself in all the happiness of +nature, to wake and sleep with it, and to cast off from her the fitful +life of sought-out amusements. She had flowered under it. Much as he +adored his little Beatrix, and sweet and kind as she was, it came to him +that Caroline's was the finer character of the two. Beatrix loved +Abington too, and the quieter life they led there; but she loved it as +he did, as a change and a refreshment. She would never have been content +to settle down to it as Caroline had, for she had not the same resources +in herself. + +"Do you think there's anything between Beatrix and Dick Mansergh?" he +asked suddenly. + +She laughed at him. "I've been wondering when you were going to ask me +that," she said. + +"Oh, then you've noticed it." + +"Darling old thing!" she said fondly. "It's plain enough that he's head +over ears. You _must_ have seen, haven't you?" + +"Well, I suppose I have. But I want to know about her. _She_ isn't head +over ears, is she?" + +"No, she certainly isn't that. It's too soon, you know, Daddy." + +A shadow always came over his face when that affair with Lassigny was +brought to his mind. "She's not still thinking of that fellow, is she?" +he asked. + +"I expect she thinks of him a good deal. That's why she won't think of +anybody else for some time to come." + +He did not push his question. He knew that that danger was past, and +that if Beatrix still thought of Lassigny it was not with love. That had +died in her. + +"Poor darling!" he said tenderly. "You know how I hated it at the time. +But when she was getting over it I sometimes almost wished that he had +come back. I'm precious glad he didn't, though." + +"So am I now," said Caroline. "But it did leave a mark upon her. Should +you mind, Dad, if she did want to marry Dick?" + +"Mind? No. Why should I mind?" he asked. "It's just the sort of marriage +I should like for her. I suppose they'd be away a lot at first, but the +old man is over eighty. It can't be very long before Dick succeeds. Then +they'd be living at Wilborough. There's nothing I should like better." + +She was a little surprised at this. It had not been only his objection +to the man whom Beatrix had wanted to marry that had so upset him nearly +a year before. + +He answered the thought in her mind. "I know B has got to marry," he +said. "She's cut out for it. She was so young last year, and it came as +a shock to me that she was already of a marriageable age. I couldn't get +used to it--that she wasn't mine any more." + +"Do you feel like that about it, Dad?" + +"I don't now. I've got used to the idea." + +"Of course we shall always be yours, whoever we marry." + +"Not as you have been, darling. That's impossible. It was old Lady +Mansergh who told me that fathers hated their daughters marrying because +they had always been first with them, and couldn't be first any longer. +That's true, I suppose, if they marry somebody you can't take in. It +would certainly have been true of me if Beatrix had married that +fellow." He never spoke of Lassigny by name. "But with a man you like +and respect it's different. You don't lose everything, even if you can't +be first any longer. If he's the right sort of man you gain. I believe +your grandfather felt that about me. He loved your mother, and she was +very young when we married. He didn't like giving her up, but he was so +nice about it that I took particular pains to show him what a lot I +thought of him. He was a fine old boy. I wish you'd known him longer, +Cara. I believe, when he got used to it, that he was as fond of me as he +was of any of his sons. Your mother used to write to him every week, and +I used to write to him too. He told me before he died that it had made +all the difference to him, the first year of our marriage. She was his +only daughter, you see, and that was the time he felt it most." + +"Should you have felt like that about Francis, if I had wanted to marry +him, Dad?" + +"It would rather have depended on how he felt about me," he said. + +"Should you about Dick Mansergh?" + +"I think I should. Yes, I think I should. I like him. He's straight. And +he's companionable too. Besides, he'd be giving her all she ought to +have. That would count for a good deal." + +"In what way, Dad?" + +"Well, you see, you're responsible for bringing up your daughters in a +certain way. You take a pride in what they become. You don't want it all +thrown away on somebody who isn't up to their level." + +She laughed. "It all sounds very mercenary," she said. + +"I don't think it is. A woman's position is her husband's; until she's +married it's her father's. You don't want your daughters lessened. It +isn't a question of money. It's like to like. Look at that chap your +Aunt Prudence married." + +"He had lots of money." + +"It's all he did have. A silly fellow! Nobody thinks anything of him +beside her. She has to carry him on her back wherever she goes." + +"Poor Aunt Prudence! It's rather pathetic the way she wants people to +like him." + +"Women have a wonderful sort of loyalty in that way. She must have found +out his deficiencies long ago, but I suppose she wouldn't admit to +herself that he has any. It's the people who look on who see it. All of +us thought the world of her. She'd have helped on the biggest sort of +man. It's all wasted on that rabbit-brained nobody." + +"Well, darling, none of us are going to trouble you in that way. I +shan't, because I shall certainly want somebody with brains, though I +haven't got as many as Aunt Prudence. And I don't think Beatrix will +make any marriage that you wouldn't like, now. She's had her lesson, +poor darling! She won't let herself be caught again." + +"I really should like her to marry Mansergh, if she cared for him." + +"She doesn't yet, dear. But I think she's quite likely to come to it. I +rather think that he's strong enough to make her." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BISHOP FINDS A MAN + + +The Bishop was again visiting at Surley Park. He found his niece's house +a restful place of retirement, and his wife had confided to Ella +Carruthers that it was such a relief to the dear man to get away from +the clergy sometimes. + +He was not, however, to be spared the question of the clergy upon this +visit, for the Graftons were coming over to consult him about one for +Abington, and he had been given due warning that it would be so. A +private patron does not always consult his Bishop over his appointments, +and it was supposed that his Lordship would not be averse from giving +his advice in this instance. + +Grafton came over to tea, with Caroline and Beatrix. There were to be +guests at the Abbey that evening, or the consultation would have taken +place over the dinner table. + +Tea was in the garden, which spread in wide cedar-decked lawns round the +great white house. The Bishop had a lovely garden of his own, in which +he could taste the sweets of retirement. But there was a remoteness +about this spreading country garden, with the fields and woods all +around it, which he could not get in the high-walled pleasaunce of his +palace. He sighed with contentment as he sank down into a large cane +chair by the tea table, and said: + +"You have a lovely place here, my dear. I sometimes wish that I had set +out to be a country gentleman, and dealt with beasts instead of with +men." + +"You have to deal with both as a landowner," said Ella, "and the men are +sometimes more difficult than the beasts." + +"The men _are_ beasts sometimes," said the Bishop's wife, who prided +herself upon her plain speaking. + +"Now, my dear," he said, "we are going to forget all the disputes that +beset us as long as we are here, and believe that none of them ever come +to disturb the peace of such a place as Surley. Isn't your friend +Grafton coming over to see me, Ella? Ah! but here he is with two of +those nice girls. What pretty creatures they are! It's a pleasure to +look at them." + +The Graftons were coming across the wide lawn. They were indeed +pleasant-looking objects of the countryside, Grafton in his +smart-looking blue flannel suit, the girls in their pretty summer +frocks. Presently they were all chatting and laughing over the tea +table, and the Bishop was liking them more than ever for the friendly +way in which they treated him, and the absence from their demeanour of +that paralysing awe which so often irked him on similar occasions. + +Tea was over, and Grafton had just introduced the subject about which he +had come, when a tall clerical figure was seen advancing across the +lawn. + +"There's my friend Leadbetter come to see me," said the Bishop. "Do you +mind talking over the question before him? He has been in the Diocese +much longer than I have, and might be able to help us." + +"I don't mind a bit," said Grafton, "but I don't know Mr. Leadbetter +yet. I haven't had time to call on him." + +The introductions were made. Mr. Leadbetter seemed rather vague as to +who the Graftons were; but he seemed to be rather vague about everything +except the absorbing subject of Church music. He was a tall thin man, +with a pair of short-sighted eyes that peered mildly through big +spectacles. His new parishioners had not quite made up their minds what +to make of him yet, but those who had had anything to do with him had +found him thoughtful and friendly, and were inclined to accept him as an +adequate substitute for the old Rector who had lived among them for so +long, and whose ways they had known so well. + +"We were just beginning to talk about a new Vicar for Abington," said +the Bishop, when Mr. Leadbetter had settled in a chair and had accepted +a cigarette, which he afterwards surreptitiously got rid of when it had +gone out three times, and both ends were in a shockingly untidy state. + +"Ah, yes, Abington," he said, "I called at Abington Vicarage the other +day. I remember that the note of the doorscraper was C sharp. Mercer is +going, he told me. A very agreeable man--Mercer. You will be sorry to +lose him, Mr. Grafton." + +Beatrix caught the Bishop's eye. There was a twinkle in it which made +her want to kiss him. She refrained from this exhibition, but felt she +had found a true friend. + +"I know who you are, now, of course," said Mr. Leadbetter. "I remember +that Mercer mentioned your name when he came over to ask me if I thought +there was any chance of his being preferred to this living." + +There was a short pause, and then everybody, including the Bishop, +laughed. Mr. Leadbetter looked surprised for a moment, and then smiled +deprecatingly. "Now I remember," he said, "perhaps you won't be sorry to +lose him, after all." + +This was all that was said about the retiring Vicar of Abington. + +"I haven't many friends among the clergy," said Grafton. "One or two of +my friends at Cambridge went into the Church, but I have lost track of +them mostly, and I can't think of one who would be likely to want to +come here. There is not much to offer, though I should be prepared to +add to the stipend for a man who couldn't afford to take it as it is." + +He told them to what figure he would be willing to raise it, and the +Bishop said that it would give a wider field of choice, as they need not +think only about men who had money of their own. + +"What sort of a man would you like to have there?" he asked. "Don't +tell any one that I asked that question, Leadbetter." + +"Certainly not," said the Rector of Surley. "I never make trouble for my +Diocesan." + +Grafton did not quite see why the question should not have been asked. +"All questions of High and Low, and that sort of thing, I leave to you," +he said. "The sort of man I should like to have would be one who would +get on well with his parishioners, and help to keep us all together." + +"Is that the sort of man you want, my dear?" asked the Bishop, turning +his beneficent gaze upon Caroline. "I suppose you take an interest in +the people around you." + +"What you really want is a Christian," said the Bishop's wife +uncompromisingly. "I suppose there are a few in the Diocese, though I +can't say I have met many of them." + +"My dear, my dear!" expostulated the Bishop. + +Caroline answered his question. "We haven't been here very long," she +said, "but we have made a great many friends among our people. We should +like to do a lot for them, and we would help anybody who came there to +look after them." + +"That is a most laudable statement from a Squire's daughter," said the +Bishop. "What sort of things do you want to do for your people?" + +"She has all sorts of plans," said Ella. "We have talked them over +together. I want to do something of the same sort here when I get to +know Mr. Leadbetter more." She threw a look at the mild gentleman, who +was just then meditating the final relinquishment of his cigarette. "But +there are more people at Abington than there are at Surley." + +"Do you mean blankets and coal?" asked the Bishop's wife, "or do you +mean Chamber music and lectures on literature?" + +Mr. Leadbetter raised himself in his chair. "Ah! Chamber music!" he +said, with a gleam of satisfaction behind his spectacles. "If only we +could manage some Chamber music!" + +"Not a bit of use," said the Bishop's wife. "A nigger minstrel +entertainment would go down much better." + +"Caroline wants to teach the children Morris dancing and all that sort +of thing," said Grafton. "They have it in the village where my +brother-in-law lives, and everybody enjoys it immensely." + +Caroline leaned forward. "Anything which will make us all happy +together," she said. "There are a lot of things which can be done that +we should all like doing, and that would go of themselves if they were +once started." + +Grafton looked at her fondly. "I believe they would all do anything for +her, already," he said, "but she doesn't want them to feel that she is +patronising them. She wants to play with them just as she has played +with her friends in London. That's it, isn't it, Cara?" + +"Yes, it's to make us friends," she said. + +"I think that healthy amusement is a very good thing for people in a +country parish," said the Bishop's wife, "but you must have somebody to +lead. Is that what you want your new Vicar to do? If so I should think +he would be quite willing to do it. I have never found the clergy +unwilling to lead in anything." + +"I should say the same about the wives of the clergy," said the Bishop, +with another twinkle in his eye, "I think we must find a married Vicar +for Abington." + +"You didn't find a married Rector for Surley," said his niece, with +another provocative look at Mr. Leadbetter, who met it with bland +unconsciousness. + +"Music is a great thing to bring people together," he said, "and I +suppose dancing too. But I have never danced, myself." + +The eyes of Beatrix and the Bishop met again, and this time she had +great difficulty in preventing herself from embracing him. + +"That will only be a part of what we should want to do," Caroline said; +"but it would be rather important to have the clergyman on our side. If +you want to get people together, he is the best man to do it, and he +ought to know them better than anybody." + +"Yes, he _ought_ to," said the Bishop's wife. + +"He does, if he is the right sort of man," said the Bishop. "I think any +incumbent might think himself fortunate in having you to help him in his +work, my dear." + +Caroline's face fell a little, and the Bishop noticed it. Afterwards he +asked his niece why it was. + +She thought for a moment, and then looked up with a smile. "To tell you +the truth, Uncle," she said, "and to risk your displeasure, Caroline and +I are rather fed up with the talk of a clergyman's _work_. I won't say +anything about this place, but at Abington it seemed to mean nothing but +interference, and trying to bring people into line all round. Caroline +refused to go visiting, as she was asked to do. Of course she does go to +see people, just as much perhaps as if she set out to do it as a regular +duty, in the way that the Coopers did here, and never ceased talking +about and patting themselves on the back for it. But she likes to go +where they know she comes as a friend, and will be pleased to see her. +She hates to think of that sort of thing as work." + +"I don't know why you should think you risk my displeasure in telling me +that, my dear," said the Bishop. + +A week later the Graftons were invited to dine at the Bishop's Palace. +The invitation was sent to Caroline by the Bishop's wife, who indicated +in a few terse sentences that a clergyman would be there on inspection, +but didn't know it, and was not to know it. If he didn't suit he could +go back where he came from, and nobody would be any the worse. Probably +her way of putting it had not been authorised by the Bishop, who, +however, took Grafton into his library on their arrival, and told him +that he thought he had found him the right man. + +"He is quite young," he said, "and has not long been married. He has +been working hard in a very poor part of London, and I fancy that his +health won't stand it much longer. His father was an old friend of mine, +and if you like him I think I can persuade him to come to you. He hasn't +any money of his own, but what you mentioned the other day will be +enough for him. His name is Gerald Prescott." + +They went up to the drawing-room, where a little group was standing by +one of the windows, admiring the view of the garden, with the piled +masonry of the Cathedral rising above the trees which enclosed it. There +were four of them. Ella Carruthers and her aunt were talking together +apart. The first impression of the group was one of happy youth. They +were all talking and laughing together, as if none of them had a care in +the world. They were Caroline, the Bishop's chaplain whom she knew +already, and Prescott and his wife, with both of whom she had +established relations almost upon the first words of introduction. + +Grafton's first impression of the man to whom he had been invited to +extend his patronage was of one hardly more than a boy. He was very +fair, with untidy hair crowning a smooth fresh face, and though his +smile was frequent and pleased there was rather a pathetic look as of a +tired child about his eyes. His wife looked older than he, though she +was actually a few years younger, and not marked by the physical +weariness that showed in him. She had rosy cheeks and dark alert eyes, +in which there was a motherly look very noticeable when she turned them +upon her husband. + +Caroline was immensely taken with both of them, they were so simple and +so confiding, and so unlike any young couple she had ever met before. +Both of them belonged to her world; that was evident by a score of +little signs. But they seemed to be quite detached from it, and indeed +to have lost interest in it. Their interests were based upon a broad +humanity which took no count of social grades. If the Bishop had +bethought himself of his niece's protest against the perpetual talk of a +clergyman's 'work,' in producing this particular clergyman for +inspection, he was abundantly justified by Prescott's conversation. He +and his wife both talked of the life they were living, the people they +knew, and the things they did, in the same way as they might have talked +if he had been an artist, for instance, living in Chelsea. There was the +big church in the background, which would correspond to the studio, and +what went on there, not to be too much talked about; and all around it +the atmosphere of struggle, and tears, and laughter, and the miraculous +events that shake the lives of those whose existence is based upon no +material certainties, but based all the firmer upon an immoveable trust +in a providence that may at any time bring something exciting and +beneficial to pass, and at the worst will never let you quite down. The +richness of it all was amazing. Instead of the picture of mean streets +and drab and sordid lives, into which a man descended from serener +heights to fight with poverty and crime, there was a crowded stage of +characters of infinite variety, playing with the big things of life +which are hidden under a mass of little things in the secured places, +but playing with them as the gods might play with them, who must have +the biggest toys to amuse them. + +"You seem to have a lot of most disreputable acquaintances," said the +Bishop's wife, when Prescott had been telling them stories about his +friends. + +"Oh, yes, we have," he said, with a bright smile. "All the respectable +ones go to chapel. But they're so dull that we don't try to get them +away. There's no proselytising in our parish." + +Caroline began to be afraid, as the life and the pursuits of these young +people disclosed themselves, that Abington, with its sparser, more +monotonous life, would scarcely attract them, or satisfy them if they +came there. But Prescott, who was sitting next to her at dinner, said to +her in a low voice: "How do you think she's looking? She's always lived +in the country; she's apt to get a little run down in a town." + +Caroline reassured him, after a glance at his wife, who looked the +picture of health and vigour, and he seemed relieved. "Of course she +loves it all," he said. "But it keeps her so on the go. It's very +distracting, a town life. Both of us enjoy getting out into the country +sometimes. You seem to belong to yourself more." + +It was exactly what she had said of herself, finding a town life of such +different quality from his distracting for self-possession. "Would you +live in the country if you had the choice?" she hazarded. + +"I'd live anywhere with her," he said, jerking his head towards his wife +with a boyish gesture. "But if I had to choose between the two, for +myself, I'd choose a town, because there's more to do. We both of us +like to have plenty to do." + +After dinner, before the men came up, Caroline sat with Viola Prescott +in the window-seat from which they could see the dark mass of the +Cathedral rising above the trees into the velvet purple night, and she +asked the same question, in a tone that gave Caroline a tightening of +the throat. + +"He's enjoying every moment of this," she said, "and he wanted just such +a change. We haven't been away together since just after Christmas. Do +you think he looks _very_ tired? It has been so hot in London." + +"I think he looks as if he wants a change," said Caroline. "Fresh air, +perhaps, and not quite so much to do." + +She sighed. "I was afraid you would say that," she said. "The Bishop +said it too. He's a lovely sort of Bishop, isn't he? So human, and so +kind, and not too churchy. It would be rather peaceful to be in his +Diocese." + +"Would you like to live in the country?" Caroline asked her. + +"_I_ should love it. I always did live in the country before we were +married. I used to go and stay with an aunt in London sometimes, and was +always glad to get back. I don't care about London amusements. But we +don't have to bother ourselves with them in our part of London. I do +like that, better than I thought I should, because you see people in a +more natural way than at the other end of London. Gerry feels like that +too. I can hardly ever drag him up to see our relations, and they hardly +ever come to see us." + +"I feel just the same, about our part of London," said Caroline. "I've +persuaded father to give up our house there, because I like living in +the country much better. It's partly because of the people, as you say. +You get to know all sorts better, in the country. I have a lot of +friends among the people in our village, just as you have in your +parish, though they live rather quieter lives than yours seem to, and +are not so--well, so disreputable." + +Both of them laughed, with a glance at the Bishop's wife. "They're not +really disreputable," Viola said; "only most of them don't know whether +they are going to have anything to eat to-morrow, or the next day. So +they have to keep cheerful while they _have_ got enough. Still, it is +rather a rackety life. I think I should like to be among quieter people, +for a change; and of course one does miss the sweet air and the peace of +the country. I wouldn't mind a bit for myself if I didn't think Gerry +ought to have a rest. He isn't very strong, poor darling, and he works +too hard." + +It was the first time that work had been mentioned. + +"And he _will_ invite such a lot of people to meals," she went on; "and +there isn't always enough for them. And then of course _he_ goes +without." + +"I expect you do too, if there isn't enough," said Caroline, smiling at +her. + +"Oh, I'm as strong as a horse," she said. "But we haven't got much +money, you know, and housekeeping _is_ rather difficult sometimes." + +The Bishop's wife sailed over to them. "Are you persuading her to make +her husband come to Abington?" she asked. "She _ought_ to. He can't +stand _that_ life much longer." + +Caroline looked up at her in some confusion. + +"Oh, I know nothing was to be said about it till after you had seen +whether you liked them or not," she said. "But of course you like them. +I do myself, though I should like to smack them both and send them to +bed." + +"We want a Vicar at Abington," said Caroline. "Father is the patron of +the living. Do persuade your husband to come there." + +Viola's eyes filled with tears, and she took Caroline's hand. "Oh, my +dear, it's just what I should love for him," she said. "He'll get enough +to eat, and time to rest sometimes." + +So when the men came up they found it all settled for them. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE NEW VICAR + + +The Prescotts came over to the Abbey on the next afternoon. They were to +stay there for two nights, and everything was to be settled for +Prescott's induction to the living at an early date. + +Both of them were in the highest spirits. "What a lark it all is!" said +the Vicar-elect of Abington, grinning all over his face as Caroline met +them at the door. His wife was as excited and happy as he was, but when +Caroline took her up to her room, she took hold of both her hands, and +the tears came into her eyes, as she said: "Oh, my dear, if you only +knew what all this means to us! This lovely, peaceful country, after the +crowds and the dirt! It's the dirt I hate so much. You can't get away +from that. Gerry hates it too, though he won't admit it." + +Grafton had arranged that they should inspect the Vicarage immediately +upon their arrival. The Vicar had expressed some surprise at the +suddenness with which everything had been arranged. He let it be +understood that it would have been more in keeping with the respect due +to his holy office if he had been consulted about the new appointment. +But at this time he was more careful than usual to escape all suspicion +of dispute, having his eye fixed upon the illuminated address and the +silver, or at least heavily-plated, salver or tea-service of the +presentation, of which, however, he had as yet gained no hint, although +the time for his departure was getting close. + +The four of them walked up to the Vicarage together, after a preliminary +inspection of the church, with which Prescott expressed himself +delighted. + +"Ours is a horrid gloomy thing," he said, "and you can't always feel you +are getting quite away in it. This is just right. I like it's being +here, right away from the village." + +Their progress up the village street aroused notice, for it was some +weeks since it had been known that the Vicar was giving up, and so far +there had been no sign of his successor. If this was to be the new +Vicar, it was generally agreed by those who saw him, on his way to and +from the Vicarage, that he would do very well. The children were coming +from school when they returned, and he and Caroline, who were walking +behind the others, found themselves involved in a laughing group of +them, and went down to the end of the street with a small boy holding +one of Prescott's hands and a small girl the other, while the rest +circled round them and gave shrill and hilarious answers to the absurd +questions asked of them by this remarkable but none the less +entertaining new kind of clergyman. + +The Vicar and Mrs. Mercer received them according as their different +temperaments dictated. The Vicar was important and patronising with +Prescott, and his wife sympathetic with Viola. + +"I'm sure you will like the house," she said. "We have had some very +happy times here, and are sorry to be giving it up, although we have a +very nice one to go to. We will do all we can to make it easy for you to +come in." + +Caroline put her arm into hers. She felt very sorry for this poor little +lady, who had made such a brave show in a situation that to her must +have been full of distress. Caroline did not know that her father had +actually asked the Vicar to leave, but it had been made so plain all +around that there was nothing but satisfaction felt at his departure. +People liked Mrs. Mercer, whenever they had a chance of judging of her +apart from her husband, but she had suffered from her very loyalty to +him, and must have been saddened at leaving her home of many years with +few to regret her. + +She responded to Caroline's' touch with a little pressure of her arm, +and smiled up at her. "It's horrid going away from you, dear," she said. +"I shall be quite jealous thinking of Mrs. Prescott in my place here." + +They went over the house and garden and outbuildings together, the Vicar +talking most of the time, and Prescott's face gradually lengthening as +he did so. For his talk was mostly of 'fixtures' and of 'taking over,' +and apparently it had not hitherto struck the Vicar-elect that to be +presented to a living involved details of this sort. He did not, +however, say anything as to any difficulty he might find in providing +money that had mounted up to a considerable sum when the Vicar had +indicated all the expensive articles that he had put in, and all the +other expensive articles that it wouldn't be worth while to take out. He +looked a little less frightened when they had come back to the +drawing-room and his wife said boldly: "I don't think we shall want +anything that we're not obliged to take, Mr. Mercer. We shan't be able +to live in more than a few rooms for some time, because we haven't got +any money for furnishing." + +The Vicar blinked. It seemed almost indecent to acknowledge a lack of +money in this fashion, especially to a man who had 'private means.' He +turned to Prescott. "I don't think you will find it practicable to live +in a few rooms here," he said. "Your parishioners expect more of you in +the country than they do in a town. You have to keep up your position +before them." + +Viola's interposition had lifted a weight from her husband's mind. Of +course she would undertake all that sort of thing. It wasn't for him to +bother himself about it. They would be quite happy living in two rooms +together, with the furniture that they already had; and, with the +enormous income of L500 a year that would now be at their disposal, they +would be able to get whatever they wanted to furnish the rest. Nor was +he at all subdued by the Vicar's speech. + +"Oh, we are not going to be bothered about keeping up a position," he +said. "I expect I shall have plenty of parishioners a good deal poorer +than I am." + +With the casting off of the burden which had begun to oppress him, he +emerged into a condition of extremely high spirits again. He drew +comparisons between the state in which he would live and that in which +the Mercers had lived. He chaffed the Vicar, and treated him generally +as if he were rather a comic character. He showed himself extremely +irresponsible with regard to all questions of management, both domestic +and official, and told Mrs. Mercer that if she hadn't taken all that +sort of thing off her husband's hands it must have been because she was +not fit to be a clergyman's wife. He received in a spirit of levity a +list of fixtures which the Vicar had typed out for him, services in the +church, meetings for this and that in the schoolroom and elsewhere, an +itinerary of visiting for three afternoons in the week. + +"You _have_ been a busy little bee," he said. "I expect you've kept them +all in order too. I'm afraid I shan't be able to do that. But it all +looks splendid on paper. I wish I could afford a typewriter. But what's +this word 'agout'? Oh, I see, it's meant for 'about.' Thanks very much. +I'll put it in my pocket." + +When they had taken themselves off the Vicar went into his study, with +his mouth set and the cloud on his Olympian brow that his wife had +become so used to after interviews of this sort. She followed him in, +however, and sat herself down in the high chair by the fireplace to go +through with it. + +"Upon my word!" he began. "It's a positive _insult_ for Grafton to put a +man like that in to succeed me. And unless I am very much mistaken, it's +meant as such." + +"The Bishop chose him, you know, Albert," she said quietly. "Mr. Grafton +told us that he had asked him to recommend him somebody." + +"The Bishop can't know what an impossible sort of creature he is," he +said. "I am not at all sure that it isn't my duty to tell him. In all my +life I've never seen anybody so absolutely unfitted to take charge of a +parish. The idea of his having the audacity to tell me that he didn't +believe in regimenting people. That was a hit at me and my work, of +course. All that I have done here for years past is to be thrown away, +and the parish turned into a bear garden, for a young idiot like that to +disport himself in." + +"He is evidently very gay and lively by nature," she said, "and of +course he is pleased at coming here. I think that half of what he said +was only meant in fun, and evidently he relies a great deal upon her for +all the business side of his work." + +"She is no better than he is," snapped the Vicar. "Fancy a woman like +that going about among the people, and them knowing the way in which +they are going to live here. If she _does_ go about among the people! +But I should think it's more likely that they will both spend most of +their time at the Abbey, sponging on the Graftons, and trying to get in +with all the big houses around. You can see they are nobodies--not a +shilling to bless themselves with. No doubt it is a great thing for them +to get into a neighbourhood like this, and they'll make the most of it." + +He went on for some time in this fashion, but his wife did not answer +him, and when he had run himself down a little and looked at her, he saw +that she was softly crying. + +He came to a stop in front of her and said awkwardly, "What's the +matter? It's dreadful to think of things going to rack and ruin in a +place where we've worked so hard and done so much; but _we_ shall be out +of it at any rate. Don't upset yourself, Gertrude." + +She dried her eyes. "I was thinking how happy they both were," she said. +"We were pleased too when we first came here and looked forward to +living in this nice house." + +He resumed his pacing of the room. "So we shall be where we are going," +he said, "and we are looking forward to a life of useful active service, +and not to the ramshackle unuseful life that those two are going to +live." + +"They have left a great many friends behind them where they have been +living," she said, "and they will make a great many friends here. We +shall leave hardly a single friend, after fifteen years, and if we make +new ones where we are going to, I'm afraid we shan't keep them. Oh, why +can't you think more kindly of people, Albert? We see everybody around +us making friends and helping each other, and we are left out of it all. +The people we have quarrelled with can't all of them always be in the +wrong, and we always in the right." + +"Oh, come now, my dear," he said authoritatively. "We have had that all +out, and I have admitted to you that I have perhaps been a little too +rigid in exacting respect for my office. The fact is, Gertrude, that you +are upset at giving up your home of so many years, and I can make +excuses for that. Let us begin our new life with cheerful hearts, and +leave the past behind us." + +"We shall take it all with us," she said, "if you can't learn the +Christian charity that you preach about. My heart went out to those two +young people. I know that they are good and loving; you can see it in +their faces--loving towards each other and full of love towards the +people they live amongst. I am sure they will do more with that spirit +than we have ever been able to do." + +"I can make excuses for you, Gertrude, as I said just now, but in +accusing me to my face of a lack of Christian charity, you are saying a +very serious thing." + +"I know," she said. "And lately I have begun to see that it is a very +serious thing. You can't see goodness where it is plain to be seen. I +don't believe you will find anywhere a sweeter, truer character than +Caroline Grafton's. There isn't a soul in the place who knows her who +doesn't almost worship her; but she has offended you in some little way +and you can never say a good word for her. And I think the happiness of +that young couple ought to make anybody feel better who sees it, but it +only makes you gird at them. It has been so often like that. How many +times have you come back into this room after seeing people off with a +smile on your face, to cover them with contempt and anger? I know we +shall never be happy wherever we go, if you can't see how wrong you are; +and we shall never have any friends--not to keep them. We shall be +lonely all our lives." + +She saved him the trouble of replying to this unwonted attack by going +out of the room, once more in tears. He walked up and down for some time +after she had left, with a frown upon his face, and once he went to the +door, and hesitated, as if he would follow her. But he thought +better--or worse--of it, and came back into the room and sat himself +down at his writing-table after the manner of a man exasperated beyond +all bearing. + +It was not his wife, however, who had exasperated him, for he was nice +to her when they met again later on, and talked pleasantly about the new +home they were going to; so that she began to think that she had been +rather hard on him. + +Caroline found her father alone just before they went up to dress for +dinner, and said: "Dad, darling, you've got heaps of money. Couldn't you +buy all those things Lord Salisbury wants to leave behind, and make +them a present of them? Poor dears, they'll have hardly anything. They +have been laughing about it, and I don't think he minds. But of course +she would like to have a pretty house. She was brought up in one. She +has been telling me about it." + +"He's been telling _me_ about it too," said Grafton laughing. "You know, +I'm not at all certain, Cara, that we shan't have trouble with that pair +of lunatics. Nobody can help liking them, but as a Vicar and Vicaress of +a respectable country parish I don't quite see them." + +"Oh, I do," she said. "He is just one big loving heart, and he hasn't +time to think about all the little things that most of us make such a +fuss about. And she has thrown herself into it all because she loves +him. But she's just like anybody else, and she'll keep him in order." + +"Do you know the story of their marriage?" he asked her. + +"She told me that the fathers of both of them had lost all their money +before they died, and that their relations on both sides had been very +much against their marriage." + +"Their fathers were partners in business, and a third partner let them +in horribly, and bolted. Before they had time to pull things together +both of them died, within a month of one another. Their mothers were +both dead too, and they are both only children. It's an extraordinary +series of coincidences. The relations on each side accused the other of +rank carelessness, and there must have been great carelessness +somewhere, though they haven't discovered yet where it was. I dare say +they were both happy-go-lucky gentlemen, if they were anything like +their offspring, and one was as bad as the other. So both those young +people being in the same box they thought the best thing they could do +would be to get married." + +"She was in a furniture shop for a year after her father died." + +"Yes; till he'd managed to save twenty pounds out of his screw to get +something to start on. An old aunt of his came round by that time, but +he wouldn't take a bob off her. Well, I dare say they've been as happy +as most people on his hundred and fifty a year." + +"Isn't it wonderful? But they'll be much better off now. You will buy +those things for them, won't you, darling?" + +"No, Cara, I won't." + +"Dad, darling! Why not?" + +"I've told you, haven't I?" + +She thought for a moment, and then kissed him. "Yes, I see," she said. +"You're a clear-sighted old Daddy. I expect you've been itching to do it +all the time." + +"Well, I have, to tell you the truth," he said. "I should have liked to +tell Mercer to make up his beastly bill and send it in to me. But I saw +it wouldn't do. They wouldn't like to be dependent on us, and they +wouldn't like to say no. I'll tell you what I've had to do, though, and +it's a good thing that I've had a lucky stroke lately that will cover +it. I've had to promise the Bishop to endow the blooming living up to +the tune I was ready to pay Prescott. He wouldn't have taken it +otherwise." + +In her happy state of never having had occasion to consider money, she +did not realise the magnitude of this obligation. "You're a little +patron of the Church, darling," she said, "and they'll put you in all +the papers." + +"That's what I'm afraid of," he said. "I've told the old boy to keep it +dark." + +The Graftons happened to be in London for the week in which the Vicar +took his departure. He had found out that there was no proposal on foot +to present him with a testimonial, nor even to give him a farewell tea. +He suffered acute annoyance over these omissions, but almost for the +first time in his life kept it to himself, and pleased his wife by +proposing that they should give a farewell tea themselves, to the more +regular of the churchgoing parishioners. This spontaneous exhibition of +liberality, coupled with the absence of any serious outbreak of +censorious speech during their last weeks at Abington, led her to +suppose that he also had taken to heart what had become so plain to her, +and gave hope of a less stormy life in the future. But, although there +may have been some faint reason for this hope, the tea-party had +suggested itself as the only opportunity for delivering a speech that he +had been preparing for some weeks past. If there was nobody who had the +common decency, at the end of fifteen years' pastorate, to sum up the +work that had been done in it, and to congratulate him upon it, he would +do so himself. He had kept records of all services, classes, meetings, +visits, and journeys during the whole of the time, and put together they +amounted to quite a respectable total. They would see that the life of a +devoted parish priest even in a country parish was not the easy thing +that 'perhaps some of you here are inclined to think.' When he had added +up his totals the bright idea struck him of dividing his income into +them, and showing what an absurd rate of pay the devoted parish priest +received for his self-sacrificing labours. But when the sum had been +done he found it worked out at about six and sixpence an item, and he +couldn't honestly make it less, even by omitting to reckon in the +rentable value of the Vicarage. Counting that in, it came to about +half-a-guinea, and however cheap his sermons might be at that price, he +thought it would hardly do to give the idea that he had been paid ten +and fivepence every time he had done one of his parishioners the honour +of paying him or her a call. So he gave up the idea with some regret, +because, of course, you couldn't really look at it in that way, and the +figures were sufficiently startling if looked at in some other. + +Eventually the idea of the tea-party was given up too. Regular +churchgoers were found to be few in number, when the question came to be +considered in detail, and of no great importance in the community. The +farmers were hay-making, and without a stiffening of substantial people +the affair would come down to a mere offering of a meal to a score or so +of people who would rather enjoy it, which scarcely seemed worth while. + +So the Vicar cast the dust of Abington from off his feet with no formal +leave-taking at all, and, remembering the thirteen thousand odd +engagements which he had carried out, felt some of the satisfaction of +martyrdom as he stepped into the train. + +The Prescotts moved in. They refused to stay at the Abbey more than a +single night, and would not have stayed one if their furniture had +arrived on the same day as they did. For they would not have missed the +fun of a move for anything. + +It was not much of a move. The contents of their two rooms in Bermondsey +made more of a show than might have been expected. Viola had a pretty +taste in furniture and decoration, and the year she had spent before her +marriage in helping to furnish for other people had shown her the right +way to set about it. They had managed to scrape together a little money +and made it go a very long way. Moreover, everybody helped her. Caroline +and she made curtains. Odd things not wanted at the Abbey found their +way to the Vicarage and were accepted as the gifts of friends. Mr. +Williams came over from Feltham and carpentered gaily. Maurice Bradby +was the handy man about the place. Everybody who came to see these new, +funny, delightful people got caught up in the prevailing excitement and +did something, if it was only to advise somebody else. + +Only the new Vicar did nothing towards the installation of his home, +except appreciate it enormously. He was out all day among his +parishioners, whom he found the nicest sort of people he had ever met. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +YOUNG GEORGE TAKES ADVICE + + +On a day early in his summer holidays Young George went over to Feltham +Hall to lunch with his friend and schoolfellow, Jimmy Beckley. Mr. and +Mrs. Beckley and their eldest daughter were away. "You don't mind +putting up with the kids at lunch," said Jimmy. "We can shift them +afterwards or make them useful if we want to play games. Ruth and Jane +aren't bad at tennis, and I've trained them all to bowl to me at a net. +We can have a little cricket practise if you like." + +Jimmy himself had reached the ripe age of fifteen. He was the only son +of his house. The kids to whom he referred were his sisters Ruth, Jane, +Isabel, and Ellen, who ranged in age from sixteen to eleven, and whom he +affected to rule with a rod of iron. They were rather subdued in manner, +but more, perhaps, because their father, who had married late in life, +was something of a martinet, and they spent their days in company with +an accomplished and decisive French governess, than because they were in +any particular dread of Jimmy's rod. + +"Mademoiselle will want to jabber French at you," Jimmy warned his +friend. "They're supposed to do it at lunch, and I don't mind it myself, +because it's good training. But you can answer her in English if you +like. She understands all right. She's not a bad sort, though apt to +think she has some authority over me, which of course she hasn't. You'll +make allowances for that. She's been here five years, and of course I +was only a kid when she came." + +"Oh, I'll make allowances all right," said Young George. "If she +corrects your table manners, I'll pretend I don't understand." + +Jimmy passed this by, as being beneath his dignity to reply to. "Lunch +won't be for another half-hour," he said. "We might go and have a look +at the gees. The governor bought a new pair of carriage horses the other +day which I should like you to throw your eye over." + +"Which one?" asked Young George. "I can throw better with the right." + +"Funny ass!" said Jimmy. "I think the governor depends too much on the +judgment of Kirby, the head coachman. He's a shooting man himself, and +doesn't take the interest in his cattle that you or I would." + +"I like cattle myself," said Young George; "especially good milkers." + +Jimmy thought it was time to rebuke this spirit of levity. "You seem +rather above yourself this morning, George," he said. "I suppose you're +bucked with the idea of seeing Maggie Williams. You'll be glad to hear +that I told Ruth to ask her to tea. I've no fancy for infants myself, +but I'm aware some people like 'em." + +Young George blushed, but did not allow himself to be confounded. "Have +you seen Kate Pemberton since you've been home?" he asked. + +"When you're ready to talk sensibly, I may perhaps tell you something +about Kate Pemberton," said Jimmy. "As long as you're in this rotting +mood, I prefer to keep it to myself." + +"I wouldn't rot upon such a serious subject as love's young dream," said +Young George. "You ought to know me better than that, Jimmy." + +They had by this time reached the stables. It seemed to Young George +that Jimmy showed some relief at being told that the head coachman was +at his dinner. He told one of the grooms to strip the horses they had +particularly come to inspect, and entered into a long and technical +discussion with him as to their points and qualifications. Young George +listened, not without admiration. He couldn't have done it so well +himself, and his tendency to 'rot' was subdued by the time the +inspection was over and they had left the stables on the way towards the +house. + +"I say," he said, "what was it you wanted to tell me about Kate +Pemberton?" + +Jimmy did not reply directly. "You know, old chap, I'm not so sure that +you're not right in preferring a youngster like Maggie Williams," he +said. "Girls of that age haven't got our knowledge of the world, of +course. But they're devilish taking sometimes. And they look up to you +more than an older woman does." + +"I like Maggie all right," said Young George, with elaborate unconcern. +"She's very lively and amusing; but I've never said I was gone on her, +as you've said you were on Kate Pemberton." + +"No, you haven't _said_ it," said Jimmy significantly. "However, I don't +want to press for confidences you don't care about giving me. About Kate +Pemberton--I must confess I have thought a good deal about her for the +last two years--at least in the hunting season I have; it calmed down a +bit last summer. Nobody could help admiring her on a horse." + +"She goes like a good 'un," said Young George. "I suppose you mean +you're calming down a bit now. Have you seen her since you've been +home?" + +"Yes, I rode over to Grays yesterday afternoon. That's what I wanted to +tell you about. There was a fellow there called Colonel Webster; I think +he's a Gunner. Unless I'm very much mistaken he's there for one purpose +and one purpose only." + +Young George was impressed. "Did she seem to like him?" he asked. + +"She couldn't be expected to show that before me," said Jimmy. "I must +say she was as nice as ever. She knows how to treat a fellow a bit +younger than herself. There's none of that 'Oh, you're only a little +boy' sort of business that some people seem to think so funny." + +"If you mean Barbara," said Young George, "it's only her fun. She does +the same sort of thing to me, and I don't mind it." + +"I wasn't thinking of Barbara," said Jimmy, "I know it's only rotting +with her, and we rot her in return. When is Barbara coming back, by the +bye?" + +"Monday, I think. Well, go on--about the Colonel who has cut you out." + +"That's just the whole point, my son," said Jimmy. "I'm not going to let +him cut me out." + +"What are you going to do then--challenge him with pistols?" + +"No, I'm going to retire. To tell you the honest, I'm not sure I haven't +made rather an ass of myself over Kate." + +"Oh, don't say that, Jimmy." + +"How old should you say she was, now?" + +"I don't know. I should think about thirty." + +"Oh, give her a chance, old man. I happen to know she's twenty-six. +Well, you see it's all right now. I reckon that fellows of our age, who +have knocked about a bit and know what's what, are equal to girls of ten +years or so older. In fact, Kate has always treated me as an equal, as I +told you, and in a good many things she's deferred to my opinion. At the +same time, you've got to look ahead a bit. You know yourself that a +_man_ of twenty-six is still young. _I_ shall be all right in ten years' +time, but I ask myself what _she_'ll be--eh?" + +"A bit long in the tooth," suggested Young George. + +"Well, there you are," said Jimmy. "I shall always have a friendly +feeling for Kate. After all, she was the first girl I _really_ cared +about. Others before her were just fancies that I grew out of. I think +she'll always remember me too. We've had some good times together. But I +think it's time it ended now. I shall make a few enquiries about this +fellow Webster, and if I find that he's a decent chap, and means to run +straight, as I've no reason to suppose he doesn't, I shall stand aside." + +"Well, I think it's very noble of you," said Young George. "I say, +what's the French for 'How do you do?'" + +Mademoiselle was standing at the hall door, and somewhat ruffled Jimmy's +dignity by enquiring in voluble French whether he hadn't heard the gong +five minutes ago and whether he had already washed his hands for lunch. +She smiled affably at Young George, however, as she shook hands with +him, and said that evidently in the vacations one must not be too +exigent as to punctuality. + +"Commencez donc, Mam'selle," said Jimmy. "Nous allons laver les mains, +moi et Monsieur Grafton. Nous descendons toute de suite." + +"I say, you _can_ chuck it off!" said Young George admiringly, as they +went upstairs; and Jimmy felt his self-respect restored. "I've picked it +up going abroad," he said. "You've got to be pretty good at it for +Diplomacy, you know. May as well get used to it early." + +"I thought you'd chucked the idea of Diplomacy." + +"Ah, that's when I thought I should want to make money--_you_ know." + +"Oh, I see. You were going to chuck Oxford too." + +"I shall go to Oxford. The governor was there. Pity to break the +tradition. And you may as well have a good time while you're young. I +shan't settle down for some years now. I'm glad I've made a clean breast +of it all to you, George. It gives one a good deal to think about, but I +feel I've done the right thing." + +"I'm sure you have," said Young George sympathetically. "You don't want +to tie yourself up at your age." + +The four Beckley girls, flaxen-haired and pig-tailed, and Mademoiselle, +were already at table, and Young George went round and shook hands with +the girls before taking his seat. He privately thought them a very dull +lot, being used to the gay talkativeness of his own sisters, which was a +great contrast to their don't-speak-till-you're-spoken-to manner, but he +did not allow his opinion to be apparent; and he was excessively liked +in the Beckley family, the younger members of which, always excepting +the son of the house, were not accustomed to so much notice as Young +George gave them. Mademoiselle liked him also, and had said of him that +his manners were as good as those of a young Frenchman. If the Beckley +girls had not thought that they were a good deal better this well-meant +commendation would have reduced him in their eyes; for they hated all +things French with a deadly hatred. + +Mademoiselle, out of compliment to Young George, permitted English to be +spoken during the meal. It was only Jimmy who forgot the permission +occasionally, his sisters being rejoiced to be freed from the shackles +of the detested tongue, and taking a more lively part in the +conversation in consequence. Young George found Ruth, next to whom he +sat, more sympathetic than he had been aware of. She had a great +admiration for Barbara, whose freedom of speech and action she secretly +envied, and Young George, who was proud of all his sisters, told several +anecdotes of Barbara's ready wit, which were well received. + +"Qu'elle est mignonne, cette petite, n'est ce pas, Mam'selle?" said +Jimmy, after a story which had been greeted with approving laughter. + +"If she heard you calling her 'petite' she would smack your 'ead, vieux +grandpere," said Mademoiselle. "I know her. And I have told you that you +need not speak French. You are not so ready with it when you don't want +to make a show off." + +"I'd offer you a cigarette in the governor's room," said Jimmy after +lunch, "but Mam'selle would be quite likely to come in and kick up a +fuss. They're very trying, these foreign women. But she's been with us +so long one's got to humour her. We might go and sit by the tennis lawn +till the girls come out. We can smoke there. It's away from the house." + +"The Governor asked me not to smoke till I'm a bit older," said Young +George, "but I'll watch you if you like." + +"If you don't I won't," said Jimmy, putting his cigarette case back into +his pocket. + +"I won't tell anybody," said Young George. + +"It isn't that," said Jimmy. "As a matter of fact I've been overdoing it +a bit lately. Do me good to pull up a bit. I only suggested it to keep +you company." + +They sat on a garden-seat facing the tennis lawn, and talked for some +time about school affairs, Jimmy showing himself less burdened by the +weight of maturity as they did so. He reverted, however, to his air of +experienced middle age when the talk veered round to the coming +holidays, and home surroundings, and Young George said to him: "You know +all the people living about here better than I do! What do you think of +the Manserghs?" + +"Old Mansergh's a grumpy old varmint," said Jimmy. "Bit of a flyer in +his youth. Of course _she_ isn't out of the top drawer, as anybody can +see. She's a good-natured old thing though, wherever he picked her up. +She always wants to stuff my pockets with chocolate creams, even now. I +like the old thing." + +"So do I," said Young George. "She isn't Dick's or Geoffrey's mother, +though. What do you think of Dick?" + +"Not a bad sort of fellow by any means," said Jimmy, "though a bit +off-hand in his ways. Doesn't take much notice of chaps younger than +himself. Still, he's a good sportsman, and they say he's a jolly good +sailor too. Bound to go up the ladder if he sticks to it." + +"He's always been very decent to me." + +"Ah, that's because he's after B. You feel like that, you know, towards +the brother of a girl you've taken a fancy to. I was always particularly +careful to make myself pleasant to Bertie Pemberton. I shan't take so +much trouble about it now, though he's not a bad chap either." + +"You've spotted it, then!" said Young George in some surprise. + +"My dear fellow, it's as plain as the nose on your face," said Jimmy. + +"Well, I only did yesterday. How can you have spotted it? You've hardly +ever seen them together." + +"I saw quite enough, last holidays. The first thing I asked Vera when I +came home this time was: 'How's that little affair between Dick Mansergh +and B Grafton going?'" + +"Oh, then it was Vera who told you! You do give yourself airs of knowing +every damn thing, Jimmy. It makes one think twice about consulting you +on anything." + +"I was half pulling your leg," said Jimmy, with unwonted meekness. "As a +matter of fact I did notice him paying a lot of attention to B, as long +ago as last Christmas, when we had our play. She looked topping that +night; I could hardly keep my eyes off her. If I hadn't been paying +attention myself in another quarter--" + +"It would be rather a good sort of marriage for her," said Young George. +"Wilborough is a jolly place, and it's only three miles from Abington. +It would be jolly if she were to marry him and go and live there. We +should see a lot of her." + +"There's one thing I will say about you, George, you're a jolly good +brother to your sisters. I admire you for it. Other fellows' sisters are +all very well, but it isn't many chaps who think such a lot of their own +as you do. I've half a mind to take a leaf out of your book, and make a +bit of a fuss of mine. They're not so good-looking as yours, but they're +not so bad. I thought Vera had improved a good lot when I came home." + +There was a questioning note in his statement, but Young George did not +catch it. "I think they're a very good-looking crowd," he said +perfunctorily. "What I can't make out is whether B has taken to _him_ or +not." + +"Ah, poor little girl!" said Jimmy sapiently. "She was knocked over by +that affair last year. I don't suppose she's ready for it again yet." + +"Well, you do know something, after all. That's just what Caroline said +when I asked her." + +"What, that she wasn't ready for it? You see, George, a girl's first +affair is pretty serious with her. One or two of 'em have told me that. +Of course she thinks it's the only one, and if she doesn't marry the +fellow she'll never forget him, or care for anybody else, and all that +sort of thing. When she's jolly well _got_ to forget him, like B, she +still goes on thinking that it can't happen to her again." + +"H'm!" said Young George reflectively. "I'm not quite sure that B isn't +waking up. I'll tell you something if you'll swear not to repeat it." + +Jimmy swore. + +"I didn't tell Caroline. I thought I'd pump her first. But she wasn't +giving much away." + +"Women stick by one another," commented Jimmy. + +"Well, he rode over to lunch yesterday, and I _know_ he meant to stay +for the afternoon, though he didn't actually say so. The Governor was up +in London, and Caroline and the Dragon had gone over to lunch with +Mollie Pemberton. Well, they made it pretty plain they didn't want me +with them afterwards. B was as nice as possible about it--she always is +decent with me--but--well, I needn't spin it out, but they went into the +garden, and I found myself left." + +"Wait a minute," said Jimmy. "Let's get it straight. It was B who got +rid of you." + +"Well, Dick did ask me if I'd be kind enough to take a message up to +Worthing for him, but--yes, it was she who got me off." + +"Did you go up to Worthing?" + +"No, I knew he was over at Wilborough. He's agent there too, you know. I +rather think Dick knew it as well as I did." + +"Ah!" said Jimmy significantly. + +"Then B asked me to be an angel and bring her some work she'd been +doing, which was in the Long Gallery. So I went up there and couldn't +find it, though I hunted about everywhere. At last I found it in her +bedroom." + +"You're jolly good to your sisters, George." + +"Oh, well, they're very decent to me. I took it out, and they weren't +anywhere to be seen." + +"No, I suppose not. Well, if you ask me, I think it's a pretty clear +case." + +"I haven't told you everything yet. I didn't quite know what to do with +myself, so I thought I'd go exploring. There are lots of funny attics +and places up in the roof. I found a rummy little place I'd never seen +before, where I shouldn't wonder if priests usen't to hide." + +"Anything in it?" + +"Only a dead bat. I suppose I was up there about half an hour. I'd got +pretty mucky, and was just brushing some of it off by a little window, +when I saw Dick coming out of the stables on his horse. I didn't see his +face, but he looked as if he was waxy." + +"That would be, what--an hour after lunch?" + +"Yes, I should think about. Well, I came down the stairs from the attics +into the corridor that goes round that corner, and there was B standing +just behind the curtain of the window looking out after him." + +"Did she see you?" + +"Yes, of course. She was awfully annoyed, and said I'd given her a +fright." + +"What was her face like?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I was so surprised at the way she slanged +me that I didn't take much notice--except afterwards, and then I thought +it was all jolly rum, and that there must have been something else. And +she was so decent about it afterwards, and said she was sorry she'd +spoken to me like that, and asked me not to tell the others." + +"Ah!" said Jimmy. "That tells a tale." + +"Well, what do you think about it?" asked Young George. + +"I think I'll have a cigarette, after all," said Jimmy. "It helps you to +think." + +He lit one elaborately, and blew the smoke out of his nose with a +reflective air, while Young George waited anxiously for the result of +his deliberation. + +"What happened was this, George," he said. "He proposed to her, and she +meant him to. But she wasn't ready to give in at once, and he got +annoyed. She gave him to understand that if he didn't like it he could +lump it, not thinking he'd take it seriously. Now, lots of men don't +know that you needn't take any account of what a girl says. It's often +the opposite of what she means. Girls are like that. What you can say is +that Mansergh didn't know enough. He gets shirty, and of course that +simply makes her worse. Then he clears out, and the moment he's gone +she's sorry. Was she crying, by the bye, when she was standing at the +window?" + +"No," said Young George doubtfully. "I'm not sure, though, now I come to +think of it, that she didn't later on. She almost did when she +apologised to me for slanging me." + +"Poor little girl!" said Jimmy tenderly. "It really makes you feel +rather soft towards them, the way they show their feelings, doesn't it? +I tell you, Grafton, a girl could do almost anything she liked with +me--a pretty girl, that is--if she only knew her power, and how to use +it. Never do to let them know, though. I think, myself, Mansergh was +quite right not to let her get the bulge over him in that way, and to +clear out." + +"I thought you said just now that he cleared out because he didn't know +enough." + +"Well, he needn't have cleared out, perhaps. I should have shown her +that it wouldn't wash, if it had been me, and she'd soon have given it +up. Well, old man, I don't think there's much harm done. He'll come back +again all right, and they'll make it up. And when two people make it up, +in that condition--well, it's getting close on to the time for putting +up the banns." + +Voices were heard approaching from behind the shrubs, and one of them +seemed to be talking a foreign language in a high-pitched authoritative +voice. Jimmy hastily threw his cigarette away, and made no apology for +doing so. "They'll want us to play tennis," he said. "We'd better go and +get our shoes." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SECOND LOVE + + +Young George drove himself home with very pleasant recollections of his +afternoon. He had found the Beckley girls quite humanly entertaining +when out of sight and hearing of their 'awful old Mademoiselle,' and +when Maggie Williams had joined the party they had all enjoyed +themselves exceedingly. She was a pretty, lively girl, ready to amuse +herself in whatever company should be provided for her, and had made it +plain that she particularly liked that of Young George. + +Young George felt that he was beginning to know what love really was. +Memories of the way Maggie tossed her masses of dark hair, and looked +when she spoke to him, out of her laughing eyes, beguiled his homeward +journey. She was the only girl he had ever met worthy to be compared +with his own sisters, and it was an addition to his pleasure that they +approved of her. He had been a little anxious about that when he had +first begun to think a good deal about her, because Jimmy had been so +very contemptuous at the idea of taking notice of a girl of fourteen. +But after Maggie had been over to Abington, and he had waited rather +anxiously to hear the comments that might be made about her, Beatrix had +said: "Dear old boy, I think you have very good taste. She's much the +prettiest girl anywhere about here, except us; and she's very nice too." +And Barbara had said: "If I've got to lose you, Bunting, I'd as soon +Maggie had you as anybody. I should scratch anybody else's eyes out." + +Even Jimmy seemed to have waked up to Maggie's charm. He had taken a +good deal more notice of her that afternoon than ever before, and had +told Young George as he went off that he'd only been rotting when he had +chaffed him about her. In the present unattached state of his +affections, Young George had had a faint idea that Jimmy might be +preparing to cut him out. But, although Maggie had responded frankly to +his unusual attentions to her, it was Young George whose conversation +and society she had obviously preferred. This memory gave him an +agreeable sensation under the ribs as he went over the signs of it. +Jimmy would not be able to cut him out, but it was satisfying to have +his taste thus endorsed by a man of such wide experience in these +affairs. + +When he had nearly reached home and was driving up the road through the +park, he descried two figures strolling through the fern towards him. He +recognised them as Dick Mansergh and Beatrix, and either something in +their attitude towards one another, although they were walking apart, or +the thoughts upon which his own mind had been running, gave him the idea +that whatever differences they may have had were at an end, and the +engagement which he and Jimmy had agreed would be such an eminently +suitable one had come to pass. + +And so it proved. Beatrix looked up at the sound of his wheels, and +signalled to him, and both of them came across the grass to intercept +him. Beatrix was smiling as she came up. "Bunting, darling, we've been +waiting for you," she said. + +Dick was smiling too. "We've got something to tell you," he said. + +"Congratters!" said Young George, rather shyly. "I know what it is." + +Then Beatrix stretched up to him and kissed him, and Dick looked as if +he wished he had been in his place, but did not claim a kiss for +himself. + +Young George commented upon this in a confidential talk with Caroline +afterwards. "He strikes me as a strong sort of chap, who puts control +over himself," he said. "I think that's what B wants, don't you?" + +Caroline hesitated a little. "Yes, perhaps she does," she said. "You +know, Bunting, it was rather a surprise to me when it did come. I didn't +say much to you when you asked me yesterday, because I didn't think she +was ready for it yet, though I thought she would be sooner or later." + +"Don't you think she's in love with him, then?" + +"She wouldn't want to marry him if she weren't." + +"Perhaps he made her say she would. She looked pleased all right when +she told me, but not--well, you know what I mean--sort of carried +away." + +Caroline sighed. "I wish he'd been the first," she said. + +This was immediately after Young George had come home. Dick had driven +himself over to luncheon. She and Beatrix and Miss Waterhouse had been +in the Long Gallery when his name had been brought up, and Beatrix had +said: "Oh, bother! I wanted to have a quiet afternoon." But over the +luncheon table she had been in higher spirits than during the morning, +when she had either been alone or sitting with them over her work, +saying very little. This had given Caroline the idea that she was rather +pleased that he had come over, after all, but had not in the least +prepared her for what afterwards happened. + +They had all gone out into the garden. Tennis had been suggested, but it +was very hot, and there were only three of them. They had sat and talked +together, and after a time Caroline had gone indoors, but not with the +object of leaving them alone together. If he had wanted that, Beatrix +had given no sign that she did. + +She had come out an hour later, but they had gone off somewhere +together. Tea was in the yew arbour, and as she was pouring it out, for +herself and Miss Waterhouse, they had come up, and Dick had made his +announcement. "Well, B and I have settled it up together. We're going to +get married as soon as they'll let us." + +Looking back upon what had followed, Caroline could not yet gauge all +that lay beneath the matter-of-fact air with which both of them treated +the momentous event. With Dick, it was not so difficult. Probably +Bunting had found the right solution of his steady unemotional way of +bearing himself. He was a man of strong self-control, but there were +signs in his voice and in his look that a great deal of ferment lay +under the crust of his manner, and would become apparent if he were not +under the compulsion of hiding it. + +But why should he have been under that compulsion at such a time, when +love had found its triumphant reward, and there was no one before whom +he need hide his exultation? + +How did Beatrix really stand towards him? She had always treated his +obvious pursuit of her lightly, and never as if her heart had been in +the least touched by his suit, though Caroline had believed that in time +it might be. Dick had been a good deal in London during the latter part +of the season, and he had been there because Beatrix was there, for it +was not his habit to devote his leaves to a round of fashionable +engagements. Beatrix had talked about him when she had returned home, +but not as if he had made any further impression upon her. Nor had there +been any difference in her attitude towards him since, though his visits +had been more frequent and his suit presumably more pressing than +before. + +Certainly, Caroline thought, she had not intended to accept him that +afternoon, and if she had admitted to herself a possibility that she +might do so, Caroline thought she would have divined it. Having +accepted him, she was much as she had been before. She was bright, and +contented, and complete mistress of herself. She talked of their father, +and of others, friends and relations who might be expected to be pleased +at her news. They had already sent off telegrams, going down to the +village themselves before tea. They had both talked of an early +marriage, and of where they would live, and of what she would do while +Dick was at sea. She had been affectionate to Caroline, but had not +responded to her little secret advances of love and sympathy, which no +one else would have noticed but to which she would have answered readily +enough if she had wanted to. + +Caroline's heart was rather heavy. Beatrix had poured out all the tale +of her love to her a year before, and afterwards relied on her more than +any one to assuage her pain. Was she to be kept out of this new love +altogether? Or was there no love that could be acknowledged and rejoiced +over? Caroline would have little to offer if it was to be an affair of a +suitable marriage only. Without love, it would not be so eminently +suitable. In the future Beatrix would have the sort of place in the +world to which her birth and connections entitled her. But in the +meantime, as the wife of a sailor on active service, if she were to be +with him as much as possible, she would be cut off from a great deal of +what she had been accustomed to, and there would be no settling down for +her anywhere. On the face of it, her life would be less in accordance +with her tastes as Dick's wife than Caroline's would be if she were to +marry Francis Parry. And Caroline had told her father that if she had +loved Francis that wouldn't have mattered; she would have been happy +with him anywhere, as Viola Prescott had been happy with her husband in +surroundings little fitted for her. But without love it would +matter--surely to Beatrix as much as to herself. + +And Beatrix had loved so whole-heartedly and so tenderly, although she +had had only a very short time to give herself up freely to the joy that +had come to her. And after that, until the end had come, she had only +had hope and the trust that was to be betrayed to uphold her; but still +she had flowered and developed under it. Love meant very much to her. +When the wounds left by the destruction of her first love had healed she +must love again in some happy time. She could not do without it. Wasn't +she laying up unhappiness for herself in taking a love that she could +not return in full measure? And was it fair to the man who would want +from her everything that it was in her to give to one whom she should +love as she had loved once already? + +Dick stayed to dinner, and the Prescotts came, and there was an air of +excitement and anticipatory pleasure over the whole evening. Beatrix was +in much higher spirits than she had been after the news had been broken +to Caroline and Miss Waterhouse at tea time. She was flushed and +sparkling, and talked continuously. Nor did she withhold from her lover +those signs which are so sweet to one who has gained the fulfilment of +his hopes, when he has to share his loved one with others, but is made +to feel that there is much for him alone. Dick's self-control was not so +much in evidence now, however cautiously he seemed to be testing the ice +of his happiness and finding it to bear. As a newly engaged couple they +fully satisfied Viola Prescott, who said to Caroline in a confidential +aside after dinner: "Isn't she adorable over it? I've never seen her +look so lovely before. It's happiness that does it all." + +But Caroline still bore a weight on her heart. She and Beatrix had been +alone together for a short time before dinner, and Beatrix had given her +some confidences. But they had not been such as to lighten the weight. +"He's such a dear!" she had said. "I really had to accept him, though I +hadn't meant to just yet. Now I'm glad I have. And I'm sure darling old +Dad will be pleased." + +These were not the confidences that she had given Caroline after her +engagement to Lassigny. Their father had not been pleased, but his +displeasure had not stemmed the outpourings of love. Now it seemed that +to please him was of paramount importance. No answering telegram had +come from him, and when Dick and the Prescotts had taken their departure +Beatrix showed herself disturbed by this. + +"Surely he can't be angry this time," she said, "because Dick didn't ask +him first, I mean. That's what he didn't like--before. But he must have +known that Dick was coming here because of me, and he never tried to +stop it, or said anything about it." + +Caroline and Miss Waterhouse both reassured her. The telegram had gone +to the Bank--not very early in the afternoon. He must have left before +it came; and it had not been forwarded to him, or else it had not found +him before the offices closed. + +She came to Caroline's room for those preparations for the night which +they made together when they wanted to talk. But there were no more +confidences of any sort. It was her father whom she still talked of in +connection with her engagement and marriage. And she talked of her +marriage more than of her engagement, which she seemed to want cut +short. With Lassigny she had been quite content to wait. She had talked +very little of marriage, and had seemed to have formed no clear picture +in her mind of what her life with him would be. She loved him and he +loved her, and that was enough. + +"Dick says I can come home as much as I like, while he is at sea. I know +Dad will want to have me. I _wish_ he had telegraphed. He won't think I +don't love him as much as ever because I am going to leave him, will he? +I love him a thousand times more. I told Dick he must never take me away +from him for very long." + +"What does Dick feel about Dad?" asked Caroline, remembering what her +father had said to her on that subject when they had ridden together. + +"Oh, he loves him. He told me he had first come over here because he +liked him so much. It wasn't me--until later--not very much later, +though. It was nearly love at first sight, but not quite. He says he +doesn't think there is such a thing really. If there is it isn't the +best sort of love, because it's only what a person looks like. I'm +rather frightened, you know, finding what sort of person Dick thinks I +am. I hope I shall be able to live up to it." + +"It won't want living up to, darling, if you love him. You'll only have +to be yourself. That would be enough for any man." + +Beatrix flung her arms round her neck and kissed her warmly. "_You_ know +I'm not perfect, darling," she said. "But you love me all the same, +don't you?" + +For a moment, as she clung to her, Caroline thought that there were to +be the real confidences for which she was aching. She returned her +embrace, with her heart in her throat. But Beatrix drew herself away. +"He does love me; and I love him," she said, with an air of finality. +But there had been ever so little of a pause between the two statements. + +Grafton's telegram came early the next morning, "Delighted, my darling; +love and blessings. Have wired to Dick, shall be down this evening. +Bring him to meet me." + +It was Thursday, and he had not intended to come down until the +following day. There was no doubt about the pleasure the news had given +him. Beatrix went about the house singing. + +Late that evening Caroline came down to talk to her father, who was +reading in the library over a last pipe. One of the signs of his changed +habits was the considerable diminution of his cigar bill. + +He looked up with a smile of pleasure. "Why, my darling child," he said, +"I thought you were in bed long ago. Have you been talking it all over +with B?" + +"No," she said. "I thought I'd come and talk it all over with you, Dad." + +He laid aside his book. "Well, it's all very satisfactory, isn't it?" he +said. "Rather different from last time! We weren't in such a happy state +a year ago." + +"It wasn't quite a year ago," she said. "And it isn't six months ago +since she was so much in love with somebody else." + +"I know. I knew she'd get over it. But I confess I didn't think she'd +get over it quite so quickly." + +She didn't reply. He looked at her, and asked: "What's the matter, +darling? Aren't you pleased about it? She _has_ got over that other +business, hasn't she?" + +"If you mean, does she love him any more, of course she doesn't. But I +don't think she has got over it all the same. It has altered her." + +She had drawn a chair close up to his and was leaning against it. He +took her hand. "Darling child," he said, "you're too sensitive. You're +feeling losing her. She hasn't talked to you enough about it. But she +will, you know, when she has settled down." + +"She has talked to you, hasn't she, Dad?" + +"Yes, she's talked to me. Nobody could have been sweeter than she was. +I'm very lucky in my daughters, Cara. Both of you--all three of +you--know that you can come to me and tell me about these things that +girls don't usually confide to their fathers. You've done it, and now B +has done it. She didn't do it last time. That shows what a right +marriage this is, and what a wrong one that would have been." + +"She would have done it, last time, darling, if you hadn't stopped it." + +His pressure on her hand that he was holding relaxed. "Surely--" he +began, but she caught him up hurriedly: "Oh, I don't mean that you +weren't right to stop it; but _how_ has she talked to you about +Dick--and her engagement to him?" + +He smiled, and gave her hand a little squeeze. "Why, just in the way +that would most please an affectionate parent," he said. "I like Dick +immensely; I think he's a fine fellow, and there's a lot more in him +than appears on the surface. But she spared me rhapsodies about him. She +knew, I suppose, that I could take all that for granted, and should be +soothed by being made to feel that I hadn't got to give up everything to +him. She's my darling child still, and always will be. And, as I told +you, I like Dick well enough to take him in. They'll both be to me what +your dear mother and I were to her father. I don't think I could love B +any more than I do now. But though I'm giving her up I shan't love her +any less. And I shan't mind giving her up. I'm happier--for my own +sake--about her than I was when I first had her news. She has what she +wants to make her happy, and she has given me all I want to make me +happy." + +"I'm so glad, Dad," she said. "And though I suppose she'll be away a lot +just at first, by and bye they will be living here, and you'll see as +much of her as you want." + +She led him on to talk of the surface facts of the engagement. The +marriage would take place, and it was well for him that he thought as he +did about it. She had wondered if he would see, as she thought she saw, +that Beatrix was fixing her own mind upon those surface facts, and what +his wisdom would make of her chance of happiness if she had not brought +the deep love that she had it in her to bring to her betrothal. But he +had not seen it, though what he was pleased with in her confidences to +him only confirmed Caroline's own mistrust. The rhapsodies that she had +dispensed him from listening to would surely have been sounded if the +impulse towards them had been there. She would have asked for his loving +sympathy in what filled her own mind, and shown her love for him in +asking for it just as much as by assuring him of that love. + +But she was glad for his sake that he had seen nothing. She kissed him +good-night, and said: "When B goes there'll only be you and me, Daddy, +till Barbara comes home. I shan't leave you for a long time yet." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +CAROLINE AND BEATRIX + + +It was nearly twelve o'clock when Caroline went up to her room. Her mind +was calmed by her talk with her father. She loved him so much that his +contentment could hardly fail of some reflection in her. And, though +jealousy was far removed from her, it gave her pleasure to think that +when Beatrix had left him he would need her love and companionship more. +Perhaps it was, as he had said, she was feeling hurt that Beatrix had +not come to her for the deep love and sympathy that was there for her in +her joys as well as in her troubles. Although her sympathies had not +been undivided in that trouble of a year ago, for she had believed that +her father had been right and had felt for him during a period of +something like estrangement as much as she had felt for Beatrix in being +parted from her lover, still her heart had beaten much closer to her +sister's then than it did now. Beatrix had leant upon her. She had been +wayward; perhaps she had even been selfish. She had often hurt Caroline, +when the hurt in herself had made her hard and unreasonable towards all +but the one who could then have assuaged it. But Caroline had gone +through it all with her, and loved her all the more for having shared +her pain. It was rather hard if she was to be held at arm's length now, +after having given so much, and being ready to give so much. + +Her sadness came upon her again when she had shut herself into her room +and made ready for bed. She heard her father go upstairs, and the house +became quite still. The clock of the church began to strike, and the +clock on the stable turret chimed in on a fainter, quicker note. Before +they had finished, the door of her room opened and startled her wildly. +It was Beatrix, who came in, a figure all in white, and threw herself +into her arms, and clung to her sobbing. + +For a moment Caroline felt giddy with the shock of her surprise, and the +fear of what was coming. But she rallied herself and murmuring soft +words drew Beatrix to the bed and sat there holding her to her breast. + +"I've been such an _awful_ beast to you, darling," Beatrix sobbed, "I +had to come and ask you to forgive me. I couldn't sleep till I told you +how much I love you." + +The childish confession made Caroline inclined to laugh and cry at the +same time, but brought with it such a sense of relief as was almost +bliss to her troubled mind. + +"I know you have wanted me to tell you everything," Beatrix went on, her +sobs becoming less frequent, "and I've wanted to all the time. But +something horrid in me kept it back, and I know I've hurt you +frightfully, darling, and I shall never forgive myself for it as long as +I live." + +Caroline swept the hair from her forehead and kissed her lovingly, as +her mother might have done. She felt immeasurably older than her sister, +who seemed to her a little child again. "If you tell me now, my +darling!" she said tenderly. + +Beatrix sat up, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of Caroline's light +dressing-gown. "Yes, I will. I want to," she said, in a pathetic voice. +"It's only you I can tell everything to." + +She bent her head and played with the ribbon that lay across Caroline's +knee. "I know what you have thought," she said. "I didn't seem to be +noticing, or to care, but I felt it all through me all the time. I +couldn't be such a hard-hearted beast as not to mind what you were +thinking, darling." + +A few more tears and answering caresses, and she told her story, with +her head on Caroline's shoulder, and Caroline's arm round her. + +"I don't think I've behaved very well to Dick," she said. "I knew that +he loved me very much, and yet I played with him. Perhaps I even led him +on. But I didn't know how much he really did love me, or I wouldn't have +done it. He's so strong and so deep; it was like playing with fire. +Perhaps I didn't do anything very wrong till two days ago, for though +I'd let him talk to me I hadn't given him any idea that I--that I wanted +him to go any further. He has told me since that he would never have +asked me to marry him unless I had said or done something to make him +think that he could. I suppose I saw that it was like that. I felt, +somehow, that he was trying to bend me to his will--no, not that, but +there was something in him that _I_ couldn't move. And that vexed me. +Oh, I was a beast! We went into the garden; I'd sent Bunting away so +that I could show him I wanted to be alone with him. Then I led him on +to tell me that he loved me; and at last he did. Then--oh, I hate myself +for what I did." + +She stopped, and cried again on Caroline's shoulder. Caroline soothed +her, but felt her heart growing heavy again. + +"Well, I must tell you everything," she began again, "but I wish I +hadn't got it to tell. It spoils everything. When he told me that he +loved me, and asked me to marry him, I pretended to be very surprised, +and said that I'd no idea of marrying him. He was very quiet, and let me +go on. I said I didn't love him; I had had enough of that sort of love, +and only loved you, and Dad, and the others. I can't think what made me +go on like that. I was a _fool_. But he stopped me suddenly. He was very +angry. He said I had known quite well that he would say what he had, and +that I had meant him to, and that I wasn't what he had thought I was. +Then he went away, without saying good-bye or anything. + +"I was frightened then, and--and ashamed of myself, because what he had +said was true. And I didn't want him to go away altogether. I thought +perhaps after all I did love him a little. Oh, I don't know what I +thought. But I went upstairs to the window to look at him coming from +the stables--he had ridden over--and to see what he looked like. And +Bunting came down from the attic and caught me there, but of course he +didn't know what I was doing, and he startled me so much that I flew out +at him." + +She laughed a little. "Poor darling Bunting!" she said. "I startled +_him_. I don't think he has ever seen me like that before. But I told +him I was sorry afterwards, and he was awfully sweet about it and said +it didn't matter a damn. I think he'd have been still more surprised if +he'd known what I was there for. Fortunately he wasn't near enough to +the window to see Dick. + +"Well, then, I was rather miserable, but I was angry too at the way he +had spoken to me. Sometimes I was one and sometimes I was the other, and +I didn't know whether I cared for him or not. The next morning it had +all calmed down rather, and I made up my mind I wouldn't care whether he +came back or not, and that if he did I would behave just as I had +before, and pretend that nothing had happened. I don't know whether I +should have been able to keep that up if he hadn't come to lunch next +day. When Jarvis brought up his name I was glad, though I don't think I +showed it, did I?" + +Caroline reminded her of what she had said, and she smiled and said she +thought she had hidden it very well, and by the way he behaved she +thought he intended to ignore what had happened too. + +"I was a little frightened when you went indoors and left me alone with +him," she said. "But for some time he went on talking as if he had +forgotten everything, and I was rather grateful to him, and felt that I +did like him very much. He's so strong and--and self-controlled; and I +admire strong men, who won't let you play with them. I had had enough of +that. I didn't want to play with him any more, and I wanted him to see +that I was sorry, without having to say so. So I suppose I was extra +nice to him. And I did want him at least as a friend. + +"Then suddenly he said something. That's his way--when you're not +expecting it. He said perhaps he'd made a mistake about me yesterday, +but he didn't think he'd been altogether mistaken. If I didn't love him +very much now, he wanted me all the same, and he was sure he could make +me happy. Would I marry him and let him try? + +"It was the last thing I expected. I didn't know what to say or what to +think. Then he said that he shouldn't worry me with love-making until I +was ready for it. He said in his quiet deep sort of way, 'When you are, +my dear, you'll have all you can want,' and he made me feel, somehow, +that perhaps I should come to want it--from him, I mean." + +She stopped for a moment as if she were examining herself. "I can't +think now what made me say, yes," she said. "I didn't feel in the least +like I did when I--when I said yes, before. I think if he had--had +kissed me, or treated me as if I had already given him everything, I +should have drawn back, perhaps run away from him. But he just took +both my hands, and looked me straight in the face and said: 'Thank you; +I promise you that you shall never be sorry for it.' Oh, he is good--and +strong. I think I do love him. If you'd seen the look in his eyes! It +touched me, and made me want to cry. I think if he had kissed me then, I +shouldn't have minded." + +"Hasn't he kissed you at all?" Caroline asked. The heaviness of heart +which the beginning of the story had brought her had lightened. It would +not have been told her in just that way if Beatrix had come to her to +ask her help in extricating herself from an impossible position. And yet +she had been inclined to think that it had been all a mistake, and had +better be ended, for the sake of Beatrix's happiness. + +"I'm coming to that, darling. You must let me tell it to you all as it +happened." + +Caroline kissed her again. As her heart grew lighter, the channels of +her love were clearing. + +"We went and walked in the garden," Beatrix went on. "We talked about +what we would do when we were married--where we should live, and all +that. I felt quite pleased and excited. It was something going to +happen. I think only one part of me was working. And I felt as if I'd +come to anchor. You know, darling, I _haven't_ enjoyed myself this year, +as I did last. _That_ had spoilt everything for me. I think if I had +lived quietly at home, as you have, it might have been different. But +I'm rather tired of going about, and remembering _that_ all the time. I +don't want _him_ any longer--of course. I hate him. But what I thought +he was--having somebody all my own who would love me, and I would do all +I could to make him happy--I suppose if you've once wanted that you +always want it; and a home of your own, and children of your own to +love." + +"Yes, I know, dearest," said Caroline softly. She was longing to come to +the point at which Beatrix might show her that all that, which lies +before women made of their clay as the ultimate end of their lives, +would come to Beatrix through the only gate which leads to its perfect +fulfilment. She had thought at one time that it might be taken by a +deliberate choice of a partner, and that the love that would sweeten it +might come afterwards. But she thought differently now. Beatrix herself +had taught her. That first love of hers, broken off as it had been, had +been the right beginning; it would have led her through the only gate. +Would this second adventure take her into the right path? If not, she +might get much in life that would satisfy her; she would bend herself to +it, and the world might not see that she had not all. But it would +change her. She would not grow to the full stature of her true +womanhood. Secondary things would be put above primary, for primary +things would be out of her reach. It was not for such a one as Beatrix +to make a merely satisfactory marriage. + +The word she had been longing for came sooner than she had expected. "I +won't go over it all any more," Beatrix said. "You saw what I was all +last night and all to-day. I thought I should be able to keep it up, but +I know now I couldn't have. Sometimes when I have been with him I felt +like crying, because he was so matter-of-fact about everything, and I +knew he wasn't really feeling like that, but was longing for me to give +him a chance of being different. But I remembered what I had done +before, and I wasn't sure that I really wanted him to--to make love to +me. + +"It was when he went away to-night. You know I went to see him out. I +think if he had gone as he did last night--just as if we weren't engaged +at all--I couldn't have gone on with it, I was feeling so miserable. +Perhaps I looked at him in a way that showed him; for he looked at me as +he was saying good-night. I saw by his eyes how much he loved me, and he +kissed me very gently, on the forehead, and called me something sweet +which I won't tell you; and then he went away." + +"Oh, darling, I'm so glad," said Caroline. "I know by the way you tell +me that it was what you really wanted all the time, wasn't it?" + +"I don't know whether I did want it all the time. I know I should have +been miserable if he had gone away without. And I wished when I'd gone +upstairs that I'd given him something in return, some sign just to show +that I didn't want him to go back to that horrid cold talk of to-day and +yesterday. Do you think he will? He's not so _frightfully_ strong, +after all. I'm sure he never meant to show me what he did. He couldn't +keep it under." + +Caroline laughed gently at her. "Yes, he is strong," she said, "with the +right sort of strength. He wouldn't have shown you that, if you hadn't +shown him something first. Oh, darling, you do love him, don't you? You +wouldn't be going to marry him if you didn't." + +Beatrix didn't answer at once. "I suppose I'm frightened to let myself +go," she said. "I did before, and it's as if something had got stopped +up in me. I don't feel towards him as I did, and with _him_, though I +admire and trust him a thousand times more. Will it come, Cara, dear? +Can I go on, without doing him harm? He's so good and so fine, he +_ought_ to have somebody who would simply worship him, and think of +nobody else; not somebody who has already thought of somebody else, +somebody not to be compared with him." + +Caroline wouldn't tell her that she thought it would all come. She knew +it would, because now she saw that it was already there, though it was +struggling for life through the dead waste of a once living but now +withered love. "It's what you feel now, darling, that matters," she +said. "I think something has been going on in you all the time that you +can't recognise, because it's different from what it was." + +"Do you think that's it?" she asked rather pathetically. "I hope it is. +It isn't that I want all _that_ to come back, though it did make me very +happy while it lasted. But I don't want to disappoint him. I don't want +to give him something, just because I feel like it for the moment, and +then take it away again." + +"If you give him something because you feel like it--well, that's just +what you'll be right in doing, darling. It wouldn't be right to hold it +back. If you feel like it at any time, it shows it's there. I'm sure +he's worth loving, B." + +"Oh, yes, he is. I think I do love him. I know I want him to come back +to-morrow." + +Those were the words that rang in Caroline's ears when Beatrix had left +her, comforted, and assured of her forgiveness for the horrid way in +which she had behaved herself towards her. Poor little B! It would all +have been so different if this had been the first time she had trodden +the happy path of love. She was all softness and sweetness, made to +capitulate to a strong man's wooing. But she had been bruised and torn, +and there were sensitive places in her which shrank from the lightest +touch. Her lover would not get the full response from her until he had +taught her not to fear his touch on them. + +But she wanted him to come back. Her heart was fluttering out to meet +him. Its wings would grow stronger. + +He came early the next morning. He had walked the three miles from +Wilborough, where breakfast was earlier than at Abington, because any +other mode of progression would have brought him there before it was +convenient, and yet he wanted to be moving. Beatrix had gone down the +ferny glade towards the gate in the wall that led into the park, not +expecting to meet him so soon, but because she also felt it necessary to +be in motion, and that was the way he would probably come. + +She was close upon the gate when he opened it and came through. His face +looked as if it had been suddenly struck with a bright light as he saw +her. But he hesitated a moment before he spoke. He was still putting +constraint on himself. + +She saw the sudden bright look, and the change, and it moved her +profoundly. She was rather taken by surprise too, for she had not +expected to see him, though she had come down through the park with no +other purpose. But she smiled at him and said: "Here I am, you see, +waiting for you." + +Was it an invitation? He couldn't tell. He had not been prepared for it. +He smiled at her in return. "You won't often have to wait for me," he +said. "If I had thought you would be out so early I would have motored +over." + +Then she turned, and they walked slowly back towards the house together. +At first both of them were at a loss what to say. + +She slipped her hand into his arm. It came natural to her to do so; it +was so she walked with her father, and she no longer felt afraid of +Dick; He was dependent on her, and he was her friend. + +He flushed under his brown skin, and looked down at her. She was not +wearing her hat with the broad brim to-day, and he could see her face. +Since he had gained her promise he had seen it excited, merry, pleased +sometimes, sometimes it had hurt him to think a little frightened, and +once, as it had thrilled him all through the night to remember, +appealing. But he had not seen it smooth and calm as it was now. The +attitude of both of them seemed to be reversed. It was she who was sure +of herself, and he who was in perturbation. + +"We'll have a long day together," she said. "We'll do whatever you like. +Would you like to fish? If so, I'll be your gillie. I often land Dad's +fish for him, and I know exactly what to do." + +All he said was, "Yes, I should like that," but his voice trembled, and +his happiness was almost too much for him. She was offering him that +sweet confiding companionship which he had thought he would only attain +to through long and troubled effort, when by difficult repression of his +strong desires he should have taught her that she might safely give it +to him. If he could have it now, offered to him of her own free-will, +surely the rest would come! But he could wait; he could wait for a long +time if he might have this. + +To all outward seeming they might have been married for months, and +reached that happy state in which perfect community of taste and +understanding doubles the pleasure of any common pursuit, as they +followed the stream and tempted the trout in its pools and shallows. +Beatrix was as eager and interested as if she had been fishing with her +father, and as merry and talkative. He loved her so like that, and was +so happy with her that he sometimes forgot how much he loved her. He +seemed to forget it altogether when at last he hooked a big fish, and +drew it towards the bank, and she was not clever enough in manipulating +her landing net. He ordered her about as if she had been a small boy, +and rather a stupid one, and when the fish was landed and was lying on +the grass with its gills opening and shutting, she burst out laughing. +"If _that's_ the way you're going to treat me!" she exclaimed. + +She looked so adorable, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling, that +all his prudent resolves vanished. He caught her and kissed her, just +once, and let her go. "That's the way I'm going to treat you," he said, +"and you've got to learn to put up with it." + +She was taken by surprise. She looked at him, and then she smiled. "I +think I shall learn in time," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +PARIS + + +Grafton went over to Paris to fetch Barbara, and Caroline and Young +George went with him. It was decided almost at the last minute. Young +George had no particular opinion of foreign parts, and was enjoying +every moment of his time at home. But Jimmy, who came over on Friday to +pay a formal call of congratulation to Beatrix, advised him not to be an +ass. "A couple of days in Paris clears the cobwebs off a man's brain," +he said. "England's the best place in the world, of course, but you're +apt to get provincial if you don't run over to France occasionally. You +see things from a different point of view." So Young George was +persuaded. They would only be away from Saturday till Monday, and on the +whole it would be rather a lark. He wanted to see Barbara too. There +were lots of things to talk to her about, and he had never before come +home for his holidays without finding her there to meet him. He had +missed her during the first few days, more than he would have thought +possible. + +They arrived in Paris in the afternoon and descended at the Meurice. +Leaving Caroline and her maid there, Grafton and Young George went off +in a taxi-auto to collect Barbara from her 'family' which, though +somewhat decayed in fortune, still inhabited its ancestral hotel in the +Faubourg Saint Germain. There was a Monsieur le Comte and a Madame la +Comtesse, and a daughter of about Barbara's age. There were also half a +dozen young English girls whom Madame la Comtesse made a great favour of +receiving, but whose parents contributed the bulk of the income +necessary to keep up the ancient dignity of the name. It was the genuine +French family life which these English girls, also of irreproachable +ancestry--that was a _sine qua non_, or announced to be--were invited to +share, and which Barbara said was as dull as ditchwater. They had their +professors, and were taken about here and there, and they talked French. +English was not permitted. Not a word was allowed to be spoken even +among themselves, except as a special concession going to and from +church on Sundays. As none of them were Catholics, Madame probably +thought the greater sin might on these occasions include the lesser. + +Barbara had altered; not in her affectionate impetuousness, for she +almost overwhelmed her father and brother with the warmth of her +embraces. But her hair, if not yet 'up' was no longer 'down.' She had +grown taller and slimmer; she wore her pretty clothes as if she took an +interest in them; and her speech and manner were the tiniest little bit +affected by her three months' absence from English influences, though +this she indignantly denied when Young George taxed her with putting on +French frills. + +"But as for French frills," she said, "there will be something to be +said about that later, but not to either of you. Why didn't my darling +Caroline come to fetch me? Oh, I _am_ glad to see you, my darling old +Daddy, and you too, my adorable Bunting. I wish the taxi was closed; I'd +hug you both again. I haven't had half enough yet." + +They had already told her about Beatrix's engagement, and she had +expressed herself delighted. Now she wanted to hear more, and there was +not much more to tell her. "Oh, well, I'll get it all out of Caroline," +she said. "How's that little ass Jimmy Beckley?" + +"You'll be able to talk French to him. He's jolly good at it," said +Young George. + +"I _don't_ think," said Barbara. "No more French till I come back here. +Oh, how lovely it is to be going home! Can't we start to-morrow, Dad?" + +"What do you think we've come here for?" asked Grafton. "We are going to +enjoy ourselves." + +"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten that Paris was supposed to be a gay city. I +think it's the dullest hole in the world. Look, there's the Odeon. Oh, +what a thing to call itself a theatre! We get taken there, you know. We +saw 'Esther' last week. It was like going to church. Are we going to see +something amusing to-night, Dad? I believe there _are_ amusing theatres +to go to in Paris." + +"I believe there are," said Grafton. "Yes, we'll go somewhere." + +"I say, you know, this isn't half bad," said Young George as they sped +across the Tuileries gardens, with the great purple mass of the Louvre +on one side of them and the gay flower beds on the other, with the long +vista up to the Arc de Triomphe. "I like it better than Hyde Park." +Which was a great concession for so sturdy an Englishman. + +"There's a concert every afternoon in a sort of open-air theatre," said +Barbara. "We go there sometimes. Perhaps I shouldn't mind Paris so much +if I weren't in a family. But how joyful it will be to get back to +England again! I'm longing for bacon for breakfast. I think French food +is much overrated." + +They dined early, at the 'Ambassadeurs,' and Barbara said that the food +was better than she was accustomed to. They were a merry, talkative +quartette, and people looked at them admiringly and talked about them. +Those young English girls, with their fair hair and their delicious +colouring--when they began to be beautiful they almost exaggerated it. +There were not a few who would have liked to make the _entente cordiale_ +that evening with this English group. + +They went to the Opera Comique and heard 'Louise,' that poignant story +in which a daughter's love brings a father's sorrow. They were all fond +of music and knew something about it, even Young George, who had asked +for an opera rather than a play. He and Barbara chatted gaily between +the acts, but Caroline, whose sensitive fibre responded to the emotion +of those she loved, divined that her father was moved by the music, and +the unfolding of the story. Before the last act, in which Louise +finally forsakes the father who has loved her and whom she has loved, +dying in his room, Grafton said: "I think I've had enough. I'll stay +outside and smoke; and wait for you." + +He and Caroline had read what was coming, sitting in a corner of the +_foyer_. "Let's all go home," she said. "I expect Barbara and Bunting +would just as soon. They have lots to talk about." + +Barbara and Bunting made no objection, and as it was still early they +went to supper at Henry's round the corner. Barbara said that evidently +Madame la Comtesse didn't know what cooking was. + +When Caroline and Barbara were alone that night, Barbara said: "That was +rather a beastly play for Dad to see. I suppose that's why we came away +before the end. I hope B isn't behaving towards him as she did last +time." + +Caroline was surprised. She had not credited Barbara with that amount of +intuition. "No, he's happy about B," she said. "And he likes Dick +immensely." + +"I said it would be B when we first set eyes on Dick, you know," Barbara +said. + +Caroline remembered that she had, and laughed. "You're very far-sighted, +darling," she said. + +"Well, I do keep my eyes open," said Barbara. "I know I'm a _jeune +fille_, and all that sort of thing, but I'm not a _jeune_ fool. I +suppose Louise wasn't married to that posturing poopstick?" + +Caroline did not reply to this question. "It was rather too sad," she +said, "though the music was lovely. I think I should have stuck to the +nice old father if I'd been Louise." + +"I'm quite sure I should," said Barbara. "I think the whole business is +awful tommy-rot." + +Caroline imagined her to be commenting upon the emotions and attractions +of love, and left it there. + +The next day they motored out to Versailles, lunched there, and saw the +fountains play, and the crowds. On their way back they had tea at a +restaurant in the Bois, and saw more crowds. In the evening they went +out to the Parc Montsouris, on the very outskirts of Paris, and dined +there in the open. + +"Food and people," said Barbara. "Food and people all the time. Now I +know what Paris really means." + +The little restaurant on the edge of the Parc Montsouris is not very +widely known, and the park itself is right away from everywhere. There +were half a dozen tables laid on the verandah, and some people already +dining there. But they were not of the highest fashion, which forsakes +Paris in the month of August. + +They went to feed the ducks by the lake, while their dinner was being +prepared. As they came back a man and a woman came out on to the +verandah with the _patron_ in deferential attendance. The man was in +evening dress, and the woman beautifully gowned. It was she who was +doing the talking, in the most voluble of Parisian French, while the +_patron_ was shrugging his shoulders and answering her with a sly, +quick manner, apparently annoying to her, but amusing to her companion. + +He had his back half turned towards the Graftons, but as they approached +the verandah he moved. It was Lassigny, and he saw them as plainly as +they all saw him. + +"We'll go across the bridge," said Grafton. "I don't suppose dinner's +quite ready yet." He turned his back on the restaurant, and his children +followed him. + +They saw by his face, which was dark and angry, that he wanted nothing +said about the meeting. When they came back a little later, their dinner +was ready, but Lassigny and his companion were not there. + +The incident was soon forgotten by Barbara and Young George as they all +made merry over their meal. But Caroline knew that her father had been +deeply disturbed by it, in spite of his successful efforts to amuse +them. She saw once or twice that reminiscent frowning look come over his +face which she had only known during the time that Beatrix had been +waiting for Lassigny. He had never worn it before, nor since the news of +Lassigny's marriage in America had come to them and broken it all off +short. It troubled her to see it again now. Surely he must know that it +was all over with Beatrix! It was awkward having met Lassigny like that. +But they would not see him again, or, if they did in London, they need +take no notice of him. Apparently that was what he wished, as well as +her father. + +The dusk came on, and the park emptied itself. The lawns and the water +seen between the tree trunks were silvered by the moon to mysterious +beauty. "It's like a scene in a play," said Barbara. "Do let's have one +more little walk round, Dad." + +She and Young George hurried off to the lake, while Grafton paid the +bill, and Caroline stayed with him. Then they followed the other two. + +Caroline slipped her hand into her father's arm. "Darling," she said, +"don't let it worry you--meeting him. It's bound to have happened some +time or other. We've got it over now." + +"I'm glad B wasn't here," was all he said. + +"So am I. But if she had wanted curing, I think that would have cured +her. Fancy choosing that for his wife, after knowing B!" + +"It wasn't his wife," he said quickly. + +Caroline was silent, blushing to the roots of her hair in the darkness. +Then she said: "I think I should have come to know that--afterwards. I +felt there was something. Oh, Dad, supposing it had been B he had +married, and that had happened!" + +"Yes," he said. "And your Aunt Katharine and Mary and the rest of them +were all at me for trying to stop it. And B almost cut herself off from +me, because--because I knew what would happen if she did marry him." + +She was struck with compunction because she also had thought him not +altogether reasonable in his dislike for Lassigny, whom he had not +disliked, but had invited to his house, before his engagement to +Beatrix. She had liked him herself, and had known him longer than +Beatrix had. Now she had a horror of him. All her soul, unsullied by the +thought of evil, revolted against what had been forced upon it. Her +father had known all along what he was. It had not prevented his +treating him as a friend, or permitting him to associate with his +daughters. She put that fact away in her mind, for consideration later. +But he too had revolted, when it had come to giving up one of his +daughters to him. And yet, as he had said, all the pressure had been +against him, and if Lassigny had come back for Beatrix at the end of the +six months in which it had been agreed he was not to see her, he would +have given her up to him. + +What were men like, under the surface they presented to the women who +gave them their friendship and confidence--men who lived in the world of +Lassigny, yes, and of Francis Parry, and Dick, and most of those among +whom she had made her friends? She felt shaken by this glimpse she had +had into what lay beneath all the commerce of life as she had known it, +the life of pleasure, innocent enough to her and such as her, but lived +on a crust of artificiality through which one's foot might slip at any +time. Beneath it there were untold depths of mire in which one might +even be engulfed, as Beatrix had nearly been engulfed. Her pleasure in +those days in Paris was spoiled. She longed for the sure ground of her +quiet country life, in which one lived from day to day occupying and +interesting one's self in one's duties and quiet pleasures, with the +beauties and changes of nature to freshen the spirit, and all around the +lives of others with which one could mingle, and trust them not to +contain shameful secrets. + +So she thought of it, not yet taught by age and experience that evil is +everywhere where men and women are congregated together, and may rear +its head in a country village as well as in a foreign city. + +As she and Barbara were alone together that night, Barbara said +seriously: "I can't think how B can ever have liked Lassigny. I never +did. Although I didn't know anything in those days, I felt it about him +all the same." + +Caroline suddenly saw Barbara with new eyes. She and Bunting had always +been called 'the children,' and treated as such; and up till the time +Barbara had left home, only three months before, she had been a tomboy, +sexless almost, certainly with no appeal that would bring out the deeper +feminine confidences. But she had always had a shrewd eye for character, +and Caroline remembered that she had avoided Lassigny's society when he +had stayed at the Abbey with a large party of guests, saying that there +were other men she liked better. + +But now she was a woman, with a woman's sensibilities, though her +childish freedom of speech and some of her childish ways still clung to +her. The very alteration in her appearance, slight as it had seemed at +first, marked a stage in her growth. She stood by the window, fingering +a chain she had taken off. In her pretty evening frock, nearly as long +as Caroline's own, she seemed already to be 'grown up.' Caroline saw her +as a companion to her such as Beatrix had been, one whom she could treat +as an equal in understanding, if not in experience, and not as a much +younger sister from whom many things must be kept. + +"Of course I know what sort of woman that was he was with," Barbara went +on. "You don't live in Paris even as I have to, without knowing the +difference. I hate it all; and I hate him. Why couldn't B see?" + +"I don't know," said Caroline slowly. "But I didn't see either." + +Barbara looked up quickly, and a soft look came into her face. "You're +so sweet and good, darling," she said. "You know, I believe that I see +more in some ways than you and B--I don't mean horrid things like that, +but all sorts of things--about people, I mean." + +"I think you have more brains than either I or B," said Caroline, with a +smile. + +"I don't think it's brains so much. I don't know what it is, quite. I +know I'm not so _nice_ as you, or B either." + +They had begun to undress, helping one another. Caroline kissed her. +"You're every bit as nice, darling, and much cleverer." + +"I'm sharp, and amusing," she said. "Perhaps I'm rather too sharp. I +shouldn't like people to be afraid of me because of my tongue. I'd much +rather be like you, and have everybody love me. Cara, when B gets +married, you and I will be a lot to each other, won't we? I shall be +quite grown up by the time I come home for good; I'm nearly grown up +now. I suppose I shall always be much the same with Bunting, but I want +to be something different with you." + +"Darling, it's just what I've been thinking about. I shall miss B +awfully, when she goes; but I shall have you, to make up. And I think +it's quite true that you can see more into things than I can--some +things. Dad told me once I hadn't got a masculine brain." + +"No, you're all feeling. But it's right feeling. I don't believe you +would ever have fallen in love with Lassigny, though you didn't dislike +him as I did. I'm never quite so sure about B. Of course I love her +awfully, and she's very sweet, and good, too. But I think she wants +somebody to look after her. Do you think Dick is the right man for her?" + +"Why, don't you? It's you who can judge." + +"Well, then, I do, on the whole. I think he'll want to be master, +absolutely. He has that sort of strength. He wouldn't do for me, even if +I loved him, and all that. I should want somebody I could be more equal +with. But I think it will suit B--to adapt herself to what he wants. The +only thing I'm not quite sure about is whether he'll give her exactly +the sort of life she wants. He has his job and he is keen on it; and of +course she won't take an _enormous_ interest in that, though she'll like +to see him go up in it. Then he likes country life, and she doesn't +particularly. She likes going about much more than you do. I don't +quite see B settling down and living at Wilborough most of her life." + +Caroline was rather struck by this view. "You've thought it out," she +said. + +"Yes, I like thinking things out. Of course I may be all wrong because I +don't take all this _love_ business enough into account. That may alter +everything." + +Caroline laughed outright. "You think it's all tommy-rot, don't you?" +she asked. + +"Well, I know it can't be, really, because it seems to take the most +sensible people. I suppose most of them get married because of it, at +least in England. But I should _think_--I don't know--that the happiest +husbands and wives are those that like the same sort of thing, not those +that are most in love with each other to begin with." + +"I used to think that," said Caroline. "I'm not sure that I do now. I +have never loved anybody--in the way that B has, I mean--so perhaps I +don't know more than you do about it. But I do think it ought to begin +with that. I suppose marriage isn't just having a companion you like. If +it were I shouldn't want to marry at all, because I have just the +companionship I want at home." + +"Francis Parry wanted to marry you, didn't he?" + +"You're very sharp, darling," said Caroline with a smile. "I didn't know +you'd noticed anything." + +"You and B have always treated me rather too much like a baby. I haven't +minded much, or perhaps you wouldn't have, for I should have talked to +you about things more. But it's going to be different now. There are +lots of things I shall want to talk to you about. I like Francis; but +I'm rather glad you didn't marry him, all the same. I think he'd have +made exactly the right husband for B, though." + +Caroline laughed. "That's a new idea," she said. "Do you think Dick +would have made exactly the right husband for me?" + +"Well, yes, I do," was Barbara's rather surprising answer. "You'll be +happier settled down, when you do marry." + +"You don't settle down much as a sailor's wife." + +"No, but he'll live at Wilborough by and bye, or his wife will. That +would suit you. It would be like going on living at Abington. But +Francis would live sometimes in London and sometimes in the country, and +he and his wife would go about a lot. That's just what would suit B." + +"Well, it just shows that love has most to do with it, after all," said +Caroline. "I like Dick, too, but I should never want to marry him. If I +had to marry either of them, I'd much rather marry Francis. And I +believe that if anything were to happen to stop B marrying Dick, she'd +feel it more than she did before." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A WEDDING + + +Beatrix was married early in September, on a day of golden sunshine, +which bathed the house, the church, the garden, and the park, in a glow +of calm, soft beauty. It was the prettiest country wedding that could be +imagined, and one of the gayest. The house, of course, was full from +attic to cellar. Beatrix's relations on both sides converged from all +quarters of the United Kingdom, and even from Continental holiday +resorts, and there was room for a few intimate friends of the family as +well. When every corner of the house had been allocated, and still more +people whose claims could not be ignored had to be got in somehow, three +or four empty bedrooms at the Vicarage were commandeered, and furnished +_ad hoc_. This not providing enough beds, rooms were taken at the inn. +More remaining to be arranged for almost at the last minute, Stone +Cottage, which had remained empty since Mrs. Walter had left it, was +furnished as a dormitory for sundry bachelors. On the night before the +wedding between thirty and forty guests, who were staying in the house +or its various dependencies, dined there, besides another score or so +from Wilborough, and other houses round. The old vaulted refectory of +the Abbey, which had remained empty and unused for generations, was the +scene of this lively banquet. It was to be used as a ball-room the next +night. "We shall want cheering up when you leave us, darling," her +father had said to Beatrix. "Your old Daddy will be the gayest of the +gay, but his merriment will be hollow and his laugh a mockery." + +Only Caroline knew how much of truth there was in this light statement. +He had behaved beautifully throughout the somewhat feverish preparations +that had had to be made for a marriage at such short notice. Beatrix had +rushed to and from London in a state of happy excitement. When she had +been at home she had devoted herself entirely to Dick when he had been +there, and when he had not been there she had either talked about him or +gone away to brood over him. For when once the barriers had been broken +down she had succumbed completely. Caroline smiled to herself sometimes +as she thought of the doubts she had felt as to Beatrix marrying without +love, or with not enough love. She was made to give herself entirely +when she did love, and she now loved Dick with an intensity and +completeness that raised him to the seventh heaven of bliss, but seemed +to leave little room for any other sort of love. Caroline smiled also, +but rather ruefully, when she remembered her father's satisfaction over +the place that would be left for him in this new adjustment of his +beloved child's affections. She invited confidences from him on the +subject, but he gave her none. The complaints and resentments he had +expressed over the affair with Lassigny had given place to a +determination to keep all that he must have been feeling about this new +affair to himself, except the incidental satisfaction to be gained from +it. He was genial and companionable to Dick, and had his reward there in +the liking, which was growing into affection, that the younger man had +towards him. He was humourous and chaffing with Beatrix, and made no +appeals to her for the solace she now almost entirely withheld from him. +Perhaps he had his reward there, too, for she must have enjoyed the +conviction that she was greatly pleasing him, although she failed to +signify the same in the usual manner. The only comment he permitted +himself to make to Caroline about the change of wind was when he said +that he should hate losing B, but rather looked forward to settling down +again after her departure. But he immediately added that it was a great +thing to see the dear child so happy, and with so good a chance before +her of happiness for the rest of her life. So even Caroline, his +confidant, was not to know the sadness with which he was wrestling on +his own account, and the new adjustments he was being forced to make, +when he had thought that further need for adjustment was to have been +spared him. + +Caroline, indeed, was having to make a few adjustments on her own +account. The distressed and uncertain Beatrix who had come sobbing to +her on the night after her engagement, and had come closer to her +sister's heart than ever before, was distressed and uncertain no longer, +and had no need of her now, except as a recipient for love's raptures. +It was 'Dick, Dick, Dick,' all the time. It spoke well for Dick's +quality that Beatrix's family liked him as well at the end of his few +weeks' engagement as they had at the beginning. It was he who kept up +for them the sense of somebody added to it instead of somebody being +taken away. 'Head over ears' as he was, and showed himself to be, he +still showed them, whenever Beatrix allowed him the opportunity, that +his reception among them added and would further add to the +satisfactions of his life. It was not only to be just him and Beatrix, +though the bliss to be gained from just him and Beatrix was at present +almost beyond his power to grasp. It seemed also to be beyond Beatrix's +power to grasp for the time being. She had removed herself from them in +spirit, already, and had told Caroline that what she should really like, +for the first few years of her marriage, would be for Dick to be ordered +to the Pacific, and for herself to inhabit an island to which he could +pay occasional visits, leaving her to think about him all alone in the +intervals. + +Grafton had a moment with her alone just before the ceremony. All the +guests were in the church, from which the drone of the organ came across +to them, standing in the hall until the clock should strike the hour. +The house was empty and strangely quiet. They would have to walk across +the few carpeted yards that lay between it and the church between packed +masses of neighbourly and intensely sympathetic spectators; but they +were waiting just inside the doorway where they could neither see nor +be seen. + +"Well, I'm going to give you up, my darling," he said. "I shan't have +you alone again before I go. Give me one more kiss all to myself." + +She lifted her veil carefully, and held up her sweet, happy face for his +kiss. "Mind my hair, Dad," she said. + +The church clock struck. "Now we'll go over," he said. "You're not +nervous, are you?" + +She laughed. "Not a bit," she said. But her hand on his arm trembled a +little as they got into the crowded church, and walked up the aisle with +all the faces turned or half-turned towards them. That was all the +emotion she showed, or had shown. It was all pure untroubled happiness +with her. + +The reception was held in the drawing-room and morning-room, which +opened into one another, and both of them into the formal garden. The +broad path which ran along this side of the house had been paved with +stone some months before, and the whole space available, indoors and +outdoors, permitted of free circulation among the guests. + +Lady Mansergh, resplendent in mauve silk, with an enormous picture hat +surmounting her red-gold hair, came waddling up to Grafton, her fat +good-natured face wreathed in smiles. "Well, it's all over now," she +said, "and if you're half as pleased as I am, Mr. Grafton, you're very +pleased indeed. What a _sweet_ bride! I've never seen one more lovely. +If I'd done what I wanted to I should have broken down and cried. I'm +not Dick's mother, but I felt like it. Oh, it's a _perfect_ marriage and +I wanted it from the very beginning." + +"And yet a year ago, you were telling me that I was spoiling the child's +life for her because I wouldn't let her marry somebody else," he said +with a smile. + +"Ah, you knew better than me, after all," she said, tapping him +confidentially on the arm. "But you _are_ pleased this time, aren't you? +Dick says if he hadn't been as much in love with the sweet child as he +is, he'd have liked to marry her all the same, because of her family. +Now that's what I call a _real_ compliment. You _are_ a nice family, you +know, and I'm sure I don't know how we did without you all here so long. +You _are_ pleased, aren't you, Mr. Grafton?" + +"My dear lady, I'm absolutely delighted," he said. "It's just the sort +of marriage I should like for all my girls; and Dick is one of the best +fellows that ever stepped." + +Old Sir Alexander also had a word of satisfaction to express. "Always +wanted a daughter," he said, "but never expected to get such a pretty +one. Lucky fellow, Dick! Arranged for another wedding present for them +this morning, Grafton. Given Dick Manor Farm. Want 'em to make their +home there, and have the girl near us when she can't be with Dick. Won't +have to wait long, I dare say, before they come in for the lot; but +it'll be a few years yet if this infernal lumbago doesn't take me." + +"Manor Farm! That's the old house right the other end of your property, +isn't it?" + +"Yes, it's a pity it isn't this end. Then we could have had her between +us. Still, it's one of the prettiest houses I've got, and I'm going to +put it back to what it was before it was turned into a farmhouse, and +make it all nice for 'em. I've told the child, and she's delighted. She +knows how to play the daughter, Grafton. She'll make a lot of difference +to me in my old age, bless her!" + +Grafton had already been bombarded with congratulations from his own and +his wife's relations, but they were not over yet, nor would be until the +guests had all departed. Lady Grafton, who had remonstrated with him +about his refusal to accept Lassigny as the desired husband for Beatrix, +had admitted handsomely that this was a far more satisfactory marriage +for her, but was never tired of hearing him say so. She came up to him +with a glass of champagne in one hand and a piece of wedding cake in the +other. + +"Well, my dear George," she said. "Here's the first of them gone. I hope +you're as pleased about it as you ought to be. You won't like losing the +child, but you couldn't expect to keep her with you always, and she's +married just the right sort of man." + +"Wonderful powers of observation you have, Mary," he said. "I shouldn't +like to disappoint you in any way, and I'm glad you're pleased with me." + +"Ah now you're being sarcastic, but I'm sure I don't know what for. I'll +behave handsomely to you, and admit that you turned out to be right a +year ago, and all the rest of us turned out to be wrong, including B +herself, apparently. I've never seen a girl more devoted to the man +she's going to marry. Perfectly beautiful, I call it. She hasn't got a +thought for anybody else. She'll make him a splendid wife, and I must +say you deserve a great deal of credit for the way in which you've +brought up _all_ your girls. They have learnt to be everything to you, +and I expect you've wanted a good deal of humouring, as all men do, +though it doesn't show on the surface. If they have been able to manage +you so well, they'll know how to manage their husbands, which most of us +have to learn after we're married to them. I'm sure the trouble I had +first of all with my dear old James, before I got into his ways--" + +"Or he got into yours," suggested Grafton. + +She allowed herself to be diverted. "Now, George," she said, "that's a +thoroughly man's speech. _Is_ James happy or is he not?" + +"The Bank Rate is very satisfactory at present," said Grafton. "I think +both James and I are as happy as we can expect to be." + +Lady Handsworth also admitted handsomely that his opposition to Lassigny +had borne good fruit. "This is a more satisfactory marriage than that +would have been, even if M. de Lassigny had been everything you could +have wished him to be," she said. "I am glad it has come about so +quickly, and so naturally, George. I did say to you, I remember, that +her first love meant so much to a girl that if she were disappointed in +it no other love could be quite the same to her. But you seem to have +judged more rightly than I even over that, which is more of a woman's +question than a man's. I suppose it is because you have always had such +sympathy with your girls. I confess that I should never have expected to +come to Beatrix's wedding within a few months and find her so entirely +cured of that other affair. She _was_ very deeply in love, I know, and +in the nicest sweetest sort of way; but she seems still more deeply in +love now." + +"Well, you see she's found the right fellow," said Grafton. "He's worth +what she gives him. The other fellow wasn't; but I don't think she'd +really given him everything; she only thought she had." + +"You're a wise man, George. Women have much more to give to those they +love than they have any idea of themselves at first. But men don't +usually know that. And only the best sort of men bring it out. B is a +darling, but it would make a great deal of difference whom she married. +I do think now that with Lassigny she would just have developed as a +charming delightful woman, but rather of the butterfly order--even if +everything had gone right with their married life. But I think Dick will +make her. She will show very fine qualities by and bye. He will bring +them out." + +"I hope he will," said Grafton. + +The Bishop, who had performed the ceremony, was standing in a little +group with his wife and Prescott and Viola. "Well, my dear friend," he +said, "you've provided one of the happiest weddings I've ever taken part +in, and I think I may say one of the very sweetest and prettiest of +brides." + +"What I like about all your girls, Mr. Grafton," said the Bishop's wife, +"is that there's not an ounce of nonsense in them anywhere. They show +all their feelings, and they fortunately never have any feelings that +they would want to hide." + +"That's a very handsome tribute," said Grafton. "But I think it's +deserved." + +"I've never seen anybody look happier than the little bride," she went +on. "If all the marriages you have solemnised, my dear, bid fair to turn +out so satisfactorily as this one--!" + +"Yes," said the Bishop. "Marriage is a blessed state where there's +complete love and trust. I think one could say that neither of these two +would be complete without it." + +"Or without one another," said Viola. "Gerry, dear, I thought we were +the most satisfactory couple you could find anywhere, but Dick and B +have advantages over us. He is not so harum-scarum as you are, and she +is much prettier and nicer than I am." + +"Gentle fisher-maiden," sang Prescott. "But she's a sweet thing, and +deserves all the happiness she can get. I think she's found the right +man to give it her too. His Lordship and I did a very good thing when we +spliced them up. I'm all for making everybody happy." + +Jimmy Beckley had a word or two of wisdom to impart on the subject of +the marriage. He would have liked to impart them to Beatrix herself, but +found it impossible, as he had rather feared, to get her apart; so he +asked Barbara to come for a stroll with him, and she consented, having a +fair idea of what the invitation portended, and expecting to draw +amusement from it. + +"You know," said Jimmy, when they were out of earshot of the crowd, "a +wedding of this sort is a jolly moving thing. I wouldn't say that to +everybody, because the general idea is to keep grinning all the time, +and advise the young couple to keep clear of squalls. But I believe you +can see further into things than most people, Barbara, though I +shouldn't have said it of you a year ago." + +"I'm glad you've noticed the change in me," said Barbara, with +suspicious humility. "Of course I was a child a year ago; now I'm a +woman, and better company for people of intelligence." + +"That's quite true," said Jimmy. "I can talk to you now about things I +should never have thought of mentioning to you last year. I can tell +you, Barbara, that this marriage of B's has made me see a good many +things in a different light. When you see a girl like that--bright and +taking and pretty--pledging herself to a man for life--and doing it +before an old Bishop of course makes it all the more jolly--it makes you +think that a lot of the business that's talked about love--well, the +Johnnies who talk about it don't know as much as they think. That's how +it struck me in the church just now, 'specially when the old bird +spouted that bit about for richer and poorer, and in sickness and in +health and all that. I don't know whether you felt something of the +same. I expect you did. You've got a heart; I know that, though +everybody might not twig it." + +"Thank you, Jimmy," said Barbara. "Yes, I felt much the same as you say +you did. It made me think that there was no sense in wasting yourself +over a lot of idle fancies. Much better wait till exactly the right man +comes along, and give him everything." + +"H'm! Well!" said Jimmy, evidently somewhat at a loss. "But _you_ +haven't had much time for idle fancies." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Barbara. "I wouldn't tell it to everybody, but +I know it's safe with you. You understand these things. I-- No, I can't +after all. Please forget what I said, Jimmy. There is nobody; nobody at +all; and if there were, you're the last person I should confess it to." + +"My dear child," said Jimmy, "you've said what you have said, and I'm +very glad you've said it to me. There's nothing to be ashamed of. I +suppose what you mean is that you've taken a fancy to some fellow and +don't like to acknowledge it because you think it mayn't be returned." + +"Oh, I know it isn't," said Barbara. + +"Well, I shouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," said Jimmy. +"You're young, and you don't know men. You see _them_ taking fancies to +people, but perhaps after all there isn't much in it. This fellow may be +thinking a great deal about you all the time; perhaps not liking to show +it himself because you haven't given him any encouragement." + +"Oh, no. I know he can't possibly care for me at all. Besides, it's all +over now. I _was_ rather weak, but I'm not any more." + +"If this chap let you see that he was thinking about you, and was very +glad to know that you were thinking about him in that way, I suppose it +wouldn't be over, would it?" + +"I think so, but I couldn't be certain till I got back." + +"Got back! What do you mean? Got back where?" + +"Why, to Paris. You see, I've had six weeks to get over it." + +Jimmy stopped and looked at her sternly. "Do you mean to say, Barbara, +that you've fallen in love with some ass of a fellow in Paris?" he +asked. + +"Oh, he wasn't an ass, Jimmy. He was a splendid-looking man. He was one +of the Gardes Municipales who was on duty at the Opera. I saw him three +times. Before that it was one of the clergy at the English Church. Now +I've begun I may as well tell you everything. Before that there was a +driver of a _fiacre_ who used to stand in the Place Saint Sulpice, but +he was much too old--about sixty-five, I should think, and that didn't +last long. Before that--oh, but I can't tell you any more. I'm glad I've +made a clean breast of it, though. _You_ understand it all, I know, and +can make allowances." + +"I can't make allowances for that sort of rotten business," said Jimmy +stiffly. "You're the last girl I should have thought would have mucked +about like that. If that's the way you behave yourself in Paris, I don't +think you ought to be allowed to go back there." + +"I don't suppose I should be allowed, if Dad knew. Of course, as I told +you, it's all over now; but I don't know what will happen when I get +back to Paris. I may see somebody else, and not be able to help myself. +There's rather a handsome violin teacher who comes to teach one of the +girls--but I mustn't give away other people's secrets, and she has left +now. I shall be the only one to learn the violin next term." + +"You don't play the violin." + +"I asked Dad if I might, and he said I could." + +"Barbara!" Jimmy stopped in the path again, with the evident intention +of expressing himself with weight and fervour. But he had only got out +the sentence. "You will _not_ learn the violin next term," when Young +George arrived on the scene. + +"What's up?" he asked. "You look as if you were having a row." + +"Jimmy objects to my learning the violin," said Barbara. "I'm sure I +don't know why." + +"You know very well why," said Jimmy. "Do you wish me to tell George the +reason why I object?" + +"Yes, if you've got one." + +"She has taken a fancy to the violin teacher," said Jimmy. "She actually +acknowledges it, and says--" + +"Why shouldn't I acknowledge it?" interrupted Barbara. "She's a very +clever teacher, and took the First Prize at the Conservatoire." + +"You can't get out of it like that," said Jimmy hotly. "If there's a +woman there's a man too. You said so. And what about the cab-driver, and +the bobby, and the curate? It's a good deal too serious for me to keep +it to myself, and I shall tell George everything you told me." + +"Yes, you tell him all about it, dear," said Barbara. "I can't stay any +longer. I must go to B. Good-bye, little man." + +The time came for Beatrix to go off. A great crowd had collected in the +hall, through which she made her way laughing, and round the carriage +that was to take her to the station. Before her husband handed her into +it she threw her arm round her father's neck. "Good-bye, my precious old +Daddy," she said. "I'll write to you the very first thing." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AN ACCIDENT + + +It was a wild wet day in late October. A terrific gale had swept over +the country the night before, and strewn the coasts of England with +wreckage. It had done great damage at Abington, and when Caroline looked +out of her bedroom window in the morning she saw evidence of it in great +trees lying prone here and there in the park, and the drift of leaves +and branches scattered everywhere. The wind was still raging, though it +had abated some of its fury, and even as she looked she saw a high elm +that had towered above the beeches with which the slopes of the park +were mostly planted come crashing to the earth. + +After breakfast she went out to see what damage had been done. The wind +was blowing over the house to the front, and when she got out of its +shelter she was seized as if in the grip of something tangible, and held +for a moment struggling. She laughed and went on, enjoying it, but had +to hold on to her hat to prevent its being wrenched off her head; and +her thick tweed skirt was blown all about her. In her young strength and +resiliency she seemed as much at home in this wild weather as in days of +blue sky and soft airs. She was no fair-weather girl, and the rain which +drove against her fretted her as little as the wind. + +As she made her way across the park she saw the figure of a man making +his way towards the spot where the most havoc had been done, and +recognised it for that of Maurice Bradby. He saw her and came towards +her. When they met they laughed at one another. "Isn't it glorious?" she +said. "I thought you'd be out to enjoy it." + +Her face was wet with the rain. Her hair, where it showed under her +close-fitting felt hat, was pearled with it. She had never looked more +lovely, to him, than then as she smiled up to him. His rugged, rather +unkempt strength also showed to advantage in this battle of the +elements. He had gained the country look, which is not affected by +chances of weather, but shows a spirit attuneable to expressions of all +nature's moods. + +"I've come out to see what damage has been done," he said; and they went +on together. + +In the shelter of the trees progression was easier, but the gale still +roared and shrieked above them, and twigs and small branches were being +torn off and falling all about. Once a branch of considerable size +cracked and fell within a few yards of them, and Bradby looked anxiously +at her, and suggested that it would be safer in the open. But he was +keen on the work he had come out for, and she was interested in it too. +So they went on. + +He was noting the trees that had fallen and measuring them with his eye +for their timber. He seemed to her to be doing it with a wonderful +sureness and competence, as he did everything in connection with his +work, and she tested herself as to her own understanding of the matter +in hand, and received congratulations from him on her eye for timber. +This pleased her. It was more interesting, doing things, than just +walking and talking, and to do them with him was to do them with some +one who could teach her a lot of what she liked knowing about. And she +liked helping him, too. He had a master mind in all that had to do with +the commodities of nature; she had long since come to recognise that. In +all outward aspects her inferior, here he was on a plane which put her +at his feet, and he exercised his knowledge with a quiet assurance that +made his mastery evident. It was worth while to work with him; and to +gain his commendation brought a thrill. + +They went to where the great elm had fallen. It was the tallest of a +group of three standing among the beeches on the highest point to be +seen from the Abbey. It had been a magnificent tree, but had passed its +age of healthy growth, and the amount of sound timber to be reckoned +with was difficult to gauge. They interested themselves deeply in it, +while the gale, which seemed to have increased in violence again, raged +all about them. + +They were standing by the uprooted hole, wondering at the exposed roots, +which seemed to have so little to anchor such a giant to the earth, when +suddenly Bradby seized Caroline and threw her violently into the hollow +from which the tree had been uprooted. She fell and lay in a puddle of +water, and was instantly overwhelmed by the branches and twigs of a +great bough, some of which whipped her in the face, drawing blood, and +one more solid hit her heavily on the arm and drove it into her side. + +When she had recovered a little from the fright and shock she wriggled +herself free from it. If it had been set ever so little more at an angle +it must have crushed her body, for the bough that had been torn from one +of the elms still standing was of great size and weight, and this was +one of its biggest branches. + +She raised herself with difficulty through the mass that was hemming her +in, and called to Bradby. But there was no answer; only the wind and the +driving rain. + +With her heart in her mouth she clambered out of the hollow and then saw +him lying half in and half out of it, with his face white and dead, and +his body underneath the heavy branch that had struck her down. + +She found herself struggling with all her might to lift the weight from +him, and then came suddenly to herself and ran as fast as she could down +the hill to get help. Her face was bruised and bleeding, and her arm +hung by her side useless, though she knew that it was not broken. She +was hurt, too, where it had been pressed into her body, and every breath +she drew was a sharp twinge. But she ran the whole way to the house, and +managed to give clear and quick instructions to the men she found in the +stables. She would have gone up with them, but Miss Waterhouse, who had +seen her running across the park, came out and insisted upon her coming +in. When she got indoors she collapsed, for she was rather badly hurt. + +Bradby was hurt very seriously. He had seen the bough crack and begin to +fall, directly towards where they were standing. Caroline was standing +with her back towards it. He might have got out of the way himself, but +there would have been no time to warn her, or even drag her out of +danger. To throw her into the hollow was the only chance, and the bough +caught him before he could jump in after her. The fallen trunk +fortunately took the weight of the great bough, which if it had fallen +to the ground must have killed them both. But the branch, an elbow of +which had crushed Caroline, had struck Bradby down. It had broken both +his thighs, and he had ribs broken besides, and internal injury which +made his life hang in the balance for as long as Caroline took to +recover from her lesser hurt. + +He was said to be just out of danger when she was well enough to leave +her room, and in two days, when she had practically recovered and could +go out again, he was said to be going to get quite well, though he would +have to lie up for many weeks yet. + +He had been moved down to the Abbey, and was installed there with a +couple of nurses, one of whom was able to leave him in a week. When +Caroline first saw him he had altered so as to give her a shock of +dismay. He was thin and gaunt and pale, but his great dark eyes stood +out of his face in such a way as to bring out its essential refinement. +The immaturity of his features seemed to have been wiped out; he was +almost handsome, with his shock of dark hair spread over his pillow, and +his long, pale, thin face with the fine eyes. + +His mother was with him--a gentle sweet-faced woman, with the same +beautiful eyes, but no other resemblance to this ugly duckling of a son. +He must have inherited his strength and ruggedness from his father, of +whom a photograph stood on his mantelpiece. There were photographs of +his brothers and sisters too--good-looking men and girls, more like +their mother than he was. His father had come when he was at his worst, +but had gone back to his parish, and Caroline had not seen him. + +Caroline knew he had saved her life, but found herself unable to say so, +or to thank him. And she knew that he didn't want her to. They said very +little at her first visit, but it was plain what healing it brought him. + +She told Mrs. Bradby what he had done. "It was his quickness that saved +me," she said, "and not thinking about himself. Very few people would +have been able to think of what to do, and do it, in that fraction of +time. The instinct _must_ have been to get out of the way." + +His mother must have known his secret. An instinct stronger than that of +self-preservation had been at work, and Caroline owed her life to it, +and he his injuries. + +She looked rather sadly at the beautiful girl sitting with her. They +were in the Long Gallery, in which all the circumstances of this kindly +hospitable family were expressed. She had been taken in just as if she +belonged to all the wealth and ease, and the wide relationships, +herself, and her son was being treated as if he were of it too. But his +lot, and hers, were cast in very different places from that of the +people who inhabited rooms of this sort, and had the relationships +indicated by the photographs that were set about. They were of two +different worlds--the world of work and the world of wealth, which never +entirely coalesce, though contact is formed here and there between them. + +She looked at Caroline and saw her more in the light of the state of +life to which she belonged than in that of her essential character. It +was the first time that they had met, and though she was strongly +attracted to her she had not yet gauged her fine true spirit. It was +natural that she should be affected by her outward appearance, which +betokened her birth and her station, and seemed to put her altogether +out of reach of a young man who had enjoyed none of the advantages of +wealth, and had none of the elasticity which enables some to climb up +from rungs of the social ladder a good deal lower than that from which +he had started. + +But before she left Abington, which she did two days after she first saw +Caroline, she came to look at her son with new eyes, and it was Caroline +who opened them for her. + +It is not every mother who loves her ugly duckling better than the +handsome ones. Mrs. Bradby took more pride in her other sons than in +Maurice, who, until he had made his new start at Abington, had been +looked on in his home as something of a failure. Even now, though his +new start had seemed to promise success, neither his father nor mother +had taken it as anything more than a fortunate finding of the right path +for him. There was indeed no more to be seen in it than that. Land +Agency is hardly a career in itself. At the best he would live the life +that suited him, and gain in time a situation which would enable him to +marry. He could never expect more than a modest income and a modest +home. He would bring satisfaction to his parents if he worked up to +that, but not pride, as their other sons were in the way of doing. + +But this beautiful, sweet, clever girl saw a great deal beneath the not +very attractive exterior. He might do nothing in the world that would be +counted as success. He was hardly in the way of doing anything, and yet +she spoke of what he was doing as if it went much deeper than the work +in which he was spending his days, and by which he was about to earn his +living. He was in his right place in the world, and in tune with big +things. This was more than to make the sort of success that his brothers +might make in their several careers. If his mother did not think it was +more, she at least saw that Maurice was not to be judged by the +standards applied to them, and her heart went out to the girl who had +found more in him than she had. + +It may be supposed that she was on the alert for any sign that Caroline +was attracted towards her son in the way that she had divined he was +towards her. She was not sure, at the end of her visit that she wasn't; +but she was sure that if she was she didn't know it yet, or she would +not have spoken of him with that unfettered admiration for his fine +qualities. It was natural that she should show warmth of feeling towards +him, when he was lying battered and broken by having saved her from the +same or from worse injury; but that warmth also was expressed frankly +and without reserve. His mother thought, rather sadly, that if Caroline +had thought of him as of a young man with whom it was possible to fall +in love, she wouldn't have praised him so freely. She was what her +surroundings had made her; he was something quite different. She would +accept the difference as putting a barrier between them, and from behind +that barrier she could give him her liking and admiration and +understanding. + +So it seemed to Mrs. Bradby, as she drove away from the Abbey, with +gratitude for all that she had received there warm in her heart. She had +come to see in Caroline, as Caroline saw in Maurice, something deeper +than what was shown on the surface, something deeper even than the +kindness and goodness that was there for all to see. If Maurice had been +older, more sure of himself, it seemed to her in her new view of him +that he might have aspired to this girl, in spite of the differences +between them. She would not think that they would matter; she was too +fine to base herself upon the accidents of her upbringing. She would +take a man for what he was, not for his outward seeming. But Maurice was +still immature; he would not himself think that he had enough to offer a +girl such as Caroline, nor be able to impress her to step out of the +conventions that hemmed her round. + +It was just as well. Nothing but trouble, it seemed to her, could come +from a love declared and returned. Maurice had done so well that he was +to be paid as Sub-Agent to the Abington property from the beginning of +the year. Mr. Grafton, she knew, had arranged that, who was always so +kind. But his kindness could hardly be expected to stand the test of +giving his daughter to a young man who would be making barely enough +money to keep himself, and was quite outside the circle in which +marriages were formed for her and her like. It was, perhaps, something +of a comfort to be convinced that Maurice, whatever he might feel +towards Caroline, would be too diffident to bring on that complication, +and that she would not lend herself to it. + +But she had reckoned without the impulsions of youth, of dependence upon +one side and of gratitude and pity on the other. + +Maurice had been moved on to a sofa by the open window, and Caroline was +sitting by his side talking to him, as she had sat and talked for days +past. By and bye--she never afterwards remembered quite how--her hand +was lying in his, and they were looking into one another's eyes, with a +meaning infinitely tender and trustful. There was nobody in the world +but their two selves, and they both knew it, without any necessity for +words. Caroline's time had come. She had not known it until that moment, +but she knew it now without the shadow of a doubt, and accepted it with +complete surrender. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MAURICE + + +Grafton had gone up to London on Monday morning, and would not be back +until Friday evening. Caroline wrote to him on Tuesday morning. Maurice +also wrote to him. There was no reply to either of the letters. Caroline +had told him that she should tell no one else until she heard from him, +or saw him. + +She motored to the station to meet him. Her heart was heavy, but beneath +her dread of what was coming was a deep calm and assurance. There were +to have been guests at the Abbey over the week-end, but a telegram had +been received to say that they had been put off. That was all that she +had heard from her father, though when he had been away for the whole +working week he had always written to her at least once. + +He gave her his usual greeting when he got out of the train--"Well, my +darling!" and kissed her. The kiss was, if anything, warmer than usual, +and she felt an immense lift of love and gratitude towards him. If he +had brought himself to accept it! She had hardly dared to hope for that. + +He had brought some cases down, and she stood with her arm in his while +he gave instructions about them. Then they got into the car and drove +off. + +"I didn't write, darling," he said immediately, "because it wanted a +lot of thinking about, and some getting used to. It was quite a surprise +to me. You say it was to you, too. Are you quite sure about it?" + +"Yes, Dad, quite sure," she said softly, her arm still in his. + +"Well, I knew you must be. I came to see that. Whatever I thought about +it myself, it was for you to decide, and you weren't likely to have made +a mistake, or to have gone into it lightly. I trust you absolutely, +darling. I trust you in some things more than I do myself. If it's what +you want, you must be right to want it. You'll have no trouble with me." + +She broke down and cried on his shoulder. The strain on her had been +greater than she had known, and its entire removal unbalanced her for +the moment. Her tears did not last long. "You've made me so happy," she +said. "I don't know why I'm crying. I ought to be laughing." + +"Dearest child!" he said tenderly. "You've been fearing that I should +make a fuss, eh? Well, there's going to be a bit of a fuss, you know, +Aunt Katharine and Aunt Mary, and all the rest of them. They won't +understand it all." + +"Do you understand it all, Dad?" she asked. "Is that why you're so sweet +about it?" + +"Perhaps I don't understand it all," he said, "though I've taken a lot +of trouble about it. You won't expect me to shirk the difficulties. +You'll have to answer up, won't you? _They_ won't like it, and they'll +say so. It will be for your sake they'll make objections, and think they +are right in doing it. You'll have to remember that. But they're +not--either of them--what you might call worldly, at heart. If you're +right you'll be able to make them see it." + +"I shan't mind anything if you're on my side, darling Dad. I hoped you +would be when I had seen you, but I didn't think you'd bring me such +comfort as you have, just at first. It makes me love you more than ever, +because you understand the best things in me." + +There was a pause before he said: "Tell me about it, darling. We needn't +talk about what the world will see, and criticise. You must have faced +that. And--" + +"Perhaps it would be better," she said, "if I tell you how I have faced +it, so as to get it out of the way, between you and me, Dad. We have +talked about marriage together, and I know what your views are. Mine +were much the same, before I knew I loved Maurice. I suppose that was +why I didn't know that I did love him. Until it came to me, I shouldn't +have thought of marrying anybody that Aunt Katharine and Aunt Mary +wouldn't think it suitable that I should marry--somebody with an +established position, who had lived in the world that they belong to. I +think even if I had found myself to have fallen in love--" + +She hesitated. "Ah, that's the important thing," he said, and she knew +that he understood her, and went on, with a pressure on the arm she was +holding. "Yes, even if I had fallen in love--unless there was something +deeper--I shouldn't have thought it right, and should have tried to get +over it." + +He kissed her, and laughed. "I think I'm rather a clever fellow," he +said. "I've had to work it out all by myself, and I've worked it out +right. You see, I know you, my Cara. I don't know him yet, though. So it +wasn't easy." + +She pressed closer to him. "It's lovely to feel one is so much trusted," +she said. "But you were right to trust me, darling. No, I know it +couldn't have been easy. I've had to do some thinking myself, so as to +see how you'd take it. I knew you'd be dear and kind, but I couldn't +expect you to see Maurice as I see him, now that I love him. _He_ +thinks, you know, that I'm much above him. I'm not, in anything that +matters. But in all the things that the world looks at--. That's what +we're up against, isn't it, Dad?" + +"We'll be up against it together, darling, and if I'm with you the +others won't matter much. But it's true, you know, that I don't see him +as you do, yet. You've got to help me." + +"I know. Well, darling, you've seen I have changed since we came to live +here. When we had that ride, to breakfast with Mollie, we talked about +it. You thought I was cutting myself off from something that was worth +having. I wasn't quite sure that I wasn't, and I enquired into myself +afterwards." + +"What did you discover? It's very important. You _will_ cut yourself +off." + +"I discovered that I really didn't want any of it; not to make it +matter. My happiness is in the quietest things I do, not in the other +things. Even our big beautiful house, and the garden, and the way we +live--that counted for a lot when we first came to live in the country. +But it's not what counts most now. It's the country itself--nature, I +suppose. I'm at home with it. There's something in me that responds. +Well, Maurice is like that too; even more than I am, because his life +has been simpler than mine. He is really big, Dad; big and simple and +direct. There's been nothing to complicate his purpose. I've felt it +about him all along. Now I love him, I know what it is that has brought +me to him. I can look up to him, and I do." + +They went up together to Maurice's room. He was on the sofa, propped up +now against cushions, and soon to be ready to be wheeled about. + +"Well, my boy!" said Grafton, as he shook hands with him. + +"Dad is on our side, Maurice," said Caroline. + +A look of intense happiness came into his face, and tears sprang to his +eyes; for he was still weak, and the relief brought to him was +overpowering. + +Grafton sat down by the sofa. "She has told me all about it," he said. +"If it's what she wants, it's what I want for her." + +As he spoke he searched the young man's face, to see, if he could, what +there was in him that he hadn't seen already, but she had seen to such +surprising effect. He caught a glimpse of it. It was a strong face. The +diffidence that had been perhaps the chief note of this young man's +behaviour towards them all had been based upon his youth and +inexperience. They had represented to him a side of life in which he had +not been, and probably never would be, at home. But it was the +conventional side of life. In the big, basic things he would not show +diffidence. And he would grow into his man's good strength. + +He had grown already. He looked the older man straight in the face as he +said: "I've done nothing to deserve her yet. But if you'll give her to +me I will." + +Worthing came to dine that evening. Grafton was to tell him about it +when they were alone together after dinner. Miss Waterhouse, only, had +been told so far. She had shown no surprise, but had said very little. +Grafton was not sure whether she approved or not, but knew that she +would express herself to him by and bye, in her quiet way that was full +of wisdom. + +Worthing had been up to see Maurice before dinner. He was rather quieter +than usual until he and his host were left alone together. When Caroline +and Miss Waterhouse had gone out of the room, he said at once: "Grafton, +I've got to get something off my chest, and I may as well do it at once. +I think the sooner young Bradby is moved out of here the better." + +Grafton laughed, rather ruefully. "You should have said that a fortnight +ago," he said. "It's too late now, James." + +Worthing stared at him open-mouthed. "You don't mean to say--!" + +"They've fallen in love with one another. She's as deep in it as he is." + +Worthing struggled with his consternation. "But--but--but--" was all he +could say, and each 'but' marked a question to which he wanted an +answer. + +"What do you see in the boy, James?" asked Grafton. "He's been living +with you for over a year now. You must know him as well as anybody." + +Worthing found his voice. "What do I see in him?" he said. "I don't see +a husband for Caroline in him. I call it an infernal piece of impudence. +Surely you're not going to allow it! Why, he's hardly begun his work +yet. He couldn't expect to marry anybody, for years to come. And a girl +like Caroline! Good Lord! What's the world coming to?" + +He seemed greatly disturbed. "I feel as if I was to blame, in bringing +him here," he said. "But I never thought--" + +"Well, it's natural that you should take that view, at first. I took it +myself when I first had their letters. It was about the biggest startler +I've ever had. But you know Caroline, James. She loves him. If you can +find the answer to the riddle why she loves him, for yourself--!" + +"That's not very difficult. He saved her life, and nearly lost his own +in doing it. She's been looking after him. Women are like that, and +young girls especially. You don't have to know much about them to see +that; there are thousands of instances." + +"That's what it will look like to everybody, I know. But it wouldn't be +enough for Caroline." + +"Caroline's one of the best girls that ever stepped. All your girls are; +they're quite out of the common. But human nature works in them just the +same as in anybody else. Why, you've seen it yourself, in Beatrix. She +fell in love with a wrong 'un. You stopped that; and now she's got the +right man. Supposing _she'd_ married the first fellow she fell in love +with!" + +"You say I stopped it. I've asked myself how much I had to do with +stopping it. I got it put off. If he hadn't--" + +"Well, then, you ought to get this put off--at least. Bradby is a good +enough fellow in his own class, but his class isn't Caroline's. That's +plain enough! I can't understand your thinking about it all. There isn't +a soul in the world who wouldn't think you were justified in stopping +it--taking her away, or something; or telling me to clear him out. I'd +do it like a shot." + +"It wouldn't make any difference. I've come to see that. I love my +little B, but she isn't Caroline. _She_ might have fallen in love--she +actually did--with a man who wasn't fit for her to marry. Caroline never +would." + +"Beatrix would never have fallen in love with Bradby." + +"I know she wouldn't. She wouldn't have seen below the surface. +Caroline does, and she finds something there that I confess I haven't +been able to see hitherto. That's why I asked you at the beginning what +you saw in him. Get rid of all the side issues. He's young; he isn't in +a position to marry; he doesn't belong to our sort of people. What is he +beneath all that? Or, if you like, what is he going to grow into?" + +"He's A1 at his work. I've never denied that. He'll get a good job by +and bye, and be worth it; but not for a good many years yet." + +"That _is_ one of the side issues. Caroline wouldn't love him because he +was likely to get a good job. What is he in himself? Come now, James, +you're a man of some perception, and he has lived with you for over a +year." + +"What is he in himself?" Worthing frowned, with the effort to direct his +thoughts into the channels required of them. "You want me to give you +excuses for accepting him," he said. + +"Not excuses; reasons. I'll tell you how Caroline sees him. Her words +struck me. She said he was big and simple and direct." + +This was rather beyond Worthing. "He's a good fellow," he said. "He's +not always thinking about himself; a nice fellow to live with. Whatever +he does he does as well as he can do it. Is that what she means by being +direct? He's simple enough, if that's a good quality. I'm not sure that +it is. Fellows of our age can say we've hit upon the right sort of life +and don't want anything beyond it, but I think a young fellow ought to +have some ambition. I've never seen any in him. I doubt if he'd ever +move to get himself on; he'd just do his work wherever he was. I don't +know what she means by his being big. He's in his right place on the +land." + +"That's what she does mean, I think. He's so much in his right place, +where most people aren't quite. And the land is big. He's in tune with +it. I think that's how she expressed it. It's a bit beyond anything I +could have got hold of myself, but it isn't beyond me to take in her +view, believing in her as I do. She's big herself, you know, James. And +she's simple and direct too. She has found herself, living here in the +country. Eighteen months ago she wouldn't have fallen in love with +Bradby, any more than B would. She's been getting away from the sort of +life she was brought up to all the time. I've known that." + +"But do you want that? It means she's getting away from you. I should +have thought that was the last thing you'd have wanted." + +"Damn it, man! Can't you see into things a bit? How much do you think I +should be likely to want a marriage of this sort for a daughter of mine, +if it were left to me? I was absolutely bowled over by it. I'll say +that, just once to you, and get it out of the way. I'll say it to nobody +else, and I won't let Caroline know it if I can possibly help it. +Supposing I stood out! What should I stand out on? On everything that +she sees as plainly as I do, but rejects for herself. And what she sees +and accepts as all important for her, and for the best part of her, +she'd find me incapable of accepting. What could part us more than that? +She's made up her mind, and she's sure she's right. She won't change; it +would be a come down for her to take the view of it all that strikes you +and me. I'm what I am, and what my life has made me. I can't help this +being a grievous disappointment to me. I want all sorts of things for +her that I've a right to want for my daughter. But if she doesn't want +them--if she doesn't think they're the best things--!" + +"She's bound to miss all she's been brought up to." + +"If I thought she would I might stick out, for her sake. It wouldn't +bring _me_ much consolation to stick out. I should only be dividing +myself from her, as I did for a time from B. I don't want that again. +I've learnt something. I stuck out against that fellow because I felt +right through me that he wasn't right in himself, for B. If I stood out +against Bradby, it would be because he wasn't a match for Caroline in +money and position and all that sort of thing. I'm not going to base +myself on all that, and show myself incapable of sharing her bigger +ideals. And what would be the good? It would hurt her damnably to know +that I couldn't stand beside her on that plane; but she'd never come +down to mine." + +Worthing showed himself impressed. "If you think of her like that!" he +said. + +"Well, isn't it the right way to think about her? There are some people +in the world whom you can trust never to go wrong. She's one of them. +Her mother was another. If her mother had been alive, she'd have backed +her up. I've tried my best to stand for what she would have done towards +our children, but a man can only make a clumsy job of that at his best. +Still, where I see it, I'm going to take her line rather than my own. +I'd have trusted her; and I trust Caroline." + +Worthing was silent for a time. Then he said: "Well, I hope you're right +about it. I can't say it looks anything but odd to me. I don't think you +can care about it much yourself, either. You must have had a difficult +time bringing yourself to your present way of thinking. I can see that. +It does you a lot of credit." + +Grafton sat silent too, looking down. Presently he said, as if summing +it all up: "I trust Caroline. If I don't see it as she does, it's +because my ideas aren't likely to be as right as hers. But for my own +sake, and hers too, I shall try to see it as she does. And I shall stand +between her and her relations. I shan't say as much to any of them as I +have to you. We'd better go up to them, I think. Don't let him see what +you think about it, more than you can help. Make the best of him." + +Grafton had a talk with Maurice alone the next morning. He had never +found it easy to talk to him, except where it was a question of the +things he knew about. He had as little of the art of general +conversation as a young man of his age very well could have, and his +diffidence had made him even rather tiresome as a companion. + +But there was none in the way he spoke now. He had gained Caroline's +love, which made him feel himself a king among men, though in desert +still far beneath her. He was full of gratitude for the gift of her +love, and he was grateful too to her father for his acceptance of him as +her lover. + +"I know what a lot there is against me," he said quietly, "that you are +bound to take into account. But although she's so much above me in every +way, we love the same things, and I can give her something that another +man might not. I've found out that I can make her happy. That's the most +wonderful discovery I've ever made. I hope you'll trust me to do it." + +"My dear boy," Grafton said, "I've got to trust you. She does. It's all +I want of you, that you should make her happy, all her life. I've made +her happy up till now. But a father can't complete his daughter's life, +however much he loves her. Only a husband can do that. She believes +you're the one man in the world who can give her all she wants, and +because she believes it, I'm bound to believe it too. Tell me the course +of life you have in your mind for yourselves. I know you've talked it +over together, but I told her I'd rather have it from you. I want to get +into complete sympathy with you as well as with her." + +"I know it must be difficult for you, Mr. Grafton," the boy said. "We +are both very grateful to you for the way you have treated me. I didn't +expect you'd be so kind about it. She said you would be, but I think I +can see more clearly than she does what a difference there is between +us. In the way you'd look at it, I think I see it just as clearly as you +do." + +"Well, I'm glad you've said that, Maurice. I suppose a father is apt to +think about the material side of marriage for his daughters more than +the other. I think he's right to do it, because with the experience he +has reached he knows well enough that the material side of a marriage is +a lot more important than two young people who have fallen in love with +one another are likely to see for themselves. It mustn't be left out of +account with you two. That's why I want to know what your ideas are--as +to the way you've planned it out for yourselves." + +"We look at it like this," he answered at once. "A very simple life, in +the country, will give both of us what we most want. It's easy enough +for me, because it's more than I've ever had. Even the way I live with +Mr. Worthing, and coming here, and going to other houses like this, is +more than I've had. I should expect to be able to get to that by what I +can earn, by and bye, but of course it's much less than Caroline has +been used to. I've thought about it a great deal, and tried to take into +account everything that she would be losing by marrying me--to see +whether she ought not to lose any of it." + +"Well, what do you think she will be losing?" + +"The biggest thing, which would trouble me greatly if I thought she +would lose it because of me, would be the way you and her own family +would look upon her. If it wouldn't make any difference--" + +"Well, it won't make any difference to me. I've assured you of that +already." + +"I'm rather afraid of how Beatrix will take it." + +"Beatrix won't like it, Maurice. We'd better look it all in the face. I +don't know how her life will turn out, but it will never be so free of +the world as Caroline's will. She isn't built on the same lines, and +they won't come together on the deepest things in Caroline's life. She +won't understand them. But they love one another, and they'll go on +loving one another." + +"Yes, I think so. It was you I thought most about. Then her other +relations, and all the people she has lived among, and I haven't. She +will be cut off from them. Not entirely, where they are real friends; +but she will no longer be living their life, and I'm not fitted to live +it. She won't be able to see so much even of those who would want her, +and she would like to see. She won't be able to pay many visits, or go +much to London. She will miss all the clever interesting people she has +constantly met, and being in the world, and part of it, as she has +been." + +Grafton laughed. "She'll have told you that she has already reconciled +herself to not living much in the world," he said. + +"Yes, she has. But I had to ask myself for her whether she wouldn't miss +it more than she thinks. She has a great deal of it still--here. She +wouldn't have nearly so much. And of course all that it means living in +a house like this she would lose,--what she has grown used to, and +doesn't think about, because she has always had it. I can see how +different her life would be." + +"I think you've faced it all pretty straight, Maurice, except that +she'll lose consideration in the world. How does that strike you?" + +He hesitated a moment. "I don't think it matters," he said. + +"Perhaps it doesn't. But why don't you think it matters?" + +"Because nothing that she will be if she marries me will be less than +what she has been. Everybody whose opinion she would value would know +that." + +"Well, I think you've got that right too. And as for all the +rest--there's a certain way of living that one wouldn't like to see +one's daughter fall below; but it doesn't depend upon big houses, or a +lot of money. There's no reason why she shouldn't have it. I do think +myself, that with a girl like Caroline, so suited to take her place in +the best sort of society that the world has to offer, it's a pity she +shouldn't have it. But we've had that out together and she says she +doesn't want it. She wants something else, which she thinks is better. I +wish she could have had both; but if not, she's made her choice, with +her eyes open, and I'm not going to say that I think she's wrong. She +won't be losing everything that she has been brought up to either. What +are your ideas about getting married?" + +"We haven't talked about it much yet. It's for the future, when we can +see ourselves settled somewhere." + +Grafton sat thinking for some time. Then he got up from his chair. +"Well, I expect you'll want to see Caroline now," he said. "I must go +down and write some letters." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HOW THEY TOOK IT + + +When Grafton left Maurice's room he went to the Long Gallery, where +Caroline was sitting with Miss Waterhouse. When Caroline went away he +stayed there. Miss Waterhouse had not yet expressed herself to him. + +"Well, Dragon, what do you think of it all?" he asked her. + +"I think you have been very wise, and very kind," she said. + +"It had to be--eh?" + +"Yes, I think it had to be, under the circumstances." + +"What do you mean by the circumstances?" + +"When two young people are brought together in the way they have been, I +think love is likely to come of it." + +Her answer made him vaguely uneasy. "That's what the world will say," he +said. "If it were only that, it wouldn't be very satisfactory, would it? +Don't you see a deeper suitability in it than there is on the surface? +It's what I have to look for, to make it bearable." + +"I think there is what you call a deeper suitability. I think Caroline +will be happy in her marriage, when the time comes for it." + +"You're not very enthusiastic, Dragon. Is _she_ satisfied with your view +of it?" + +"I was the only person who knew anything until you came home. I +sympathised with her. I saw how deep her love was. But I couldn't be +enthusiastic until I knew how you would take it. I couldn't have said +that you would have been wrong in asking at least for a term of +probation, as you did in Beatrix's case." + +"But I didn't ask for it--because I trusted Caroline to have faced all +the objections she would know I should feel, and just exactly _not_ to +have allowed herself to fall in love owing to what you call the +circumstances. She would know what she wanted, I said to myself. And she +wouldn't change, whatever I did or said. It wouldn't have come to an end +of itself, as Beatrix's affair did. I hope you're not going to say that +my reasoning was wrong. It hasn't been very easy to sink all my own +ideas--of fitness--of what one would expect in marriage for a girl like +Caroline." + +"I think you've been entirely right; more right than if you'd stood out, +or even questioned it. It would have made no difference, and you'd have +had to give way in the end. Nothing you could have done or said would +have so added to dear Caroline's happiness as what you have said and +done. She was dreading more than anything a separation in spirit from +you. I know that, though she said little about it. Now that fear is +removed she is blissfully happy. Nothing that anybody else says will +matter to her at all." + +"And yet you don't seem to think I reached my conclusions in the right +way." + +"What I think is that she couldn't have reasoned it out in the way you +thought she had. A woman doesn't reason like that--or at least she +doesn't. It was just her heart that guided her." + +"But she did reason. She told me that if he hadn't been what she has +found out for herself that he is, and she'd been inclined to fall in +love with him--just in the way you say she has, with gratitude, and +pity, working in her--I suppose that's what you mean--she'd have +resisted it." + +"I think she couldn't have fallen in love with him, unless he'd shown +himself to her as he has. There wouldn't be anything, for _her_, to fall +in love with. It was her heart prompted her all the time. But of course +she has tried hard to see it all in the light that you have taught her +to follow. She would want to satisfy you that she hadn't given her love +lightly. She wouldn't have wanted to satisfy herself. She would have +known that she was right." + +"Do you think she's right, Dragon?" + +"Yes, I do." + +"And you're not disappointed that this has come about?" + +"Not for her sake. I am for yours. You would have expected her to shine +in the world you belong to, and that she has belonged to. You must +suffer somewhat in your just pride in her. But it's a far bigger thing +to be able to sink that, and to want only her happiness, and to trust +her to know where it lies. You'll certainly have your reward, though it +may take some time to get over the disappointment. She'll love and trust +you, as she couldn't have done if you had stood out ever so little." + +"Well, you're very comforting, Dragon. Stimulating too. I told Worthing +something of what I'd gone through about it, last night, and said that I +shouldn't say as much to anybody else. But you're different. I shall +have to stick up to Katharine Handsworth and Mary Grafton, and all the +rest of them, when my own feeling will be much the same as theirs. I +want something to support me." + +"Yes. But I think it will all die down sooner than you think. All women +are at heart sympathetic with a love match, you know. And they love +Caroline. They won't want to make _her_ feel that she is lowering +herself." + +"What about B?" + +"Caroline has written to her, and to Barbara and Bunting. Whatever B has +to say will be said to you, not to Caroline." + +"B has been more critical of Maurice than anybody, you know." + +"She will want that forgotten." + +He was silent for a time, and then asked: "What are Caroline's ideas +about getting married? She hasn't said anything to me about that yet." + +"She has said very little to me. Having her engagement just on the +right footing has been enough for her." + +"Has she said anything at all?" + +"She would expect to wait, I think, until he got some sort of place; +then she would not mind in how small a way they began." + +"Well, there's no reason why they should begin in such a very small way. +If I accept Maurice as the right husband for her, I should naturally do +for her what I did for B." + +He had settled ten thousand pounds on Beatrix. Miss Waterhouse knew +this. So did Caroline. + +"They could marry at any time on that," she said. "And he will be +earning something in a few months. Do you want them to marry soon?" + +"Well now, I'll make a clean breast of it to you, my dear Dragon. As +long as they are not married, I shan't be able to prevent myself having +a sort of hope that they won't be, after all." + +She smiled. "You will have more pleasure of her now," she said, "when +she is settled in her new life." + +"That's what I've told myself. She will be very careful, I know, to let +it make as little difference between her and me as possible. But it +can't be quite the same as it has been. She has given her love to him, +and I must be second where I've been first. But when she's once married +he'll have his place and I shall have mine. We shan't clash in any way. +I'm happier about B now than I was for the month or two before she was +married." + +It was the first time he had alluded to Beatrix's attitude towards him +at that time. + +"I think B was selfish," she said at once. "Caroline won't be like that. +Her love is as deep as B's--deeper, for she has a deeper nature--but it +will not carry her away in the same way. She will never hurt others who +love her." + +"I should like to see her happily married, you know. She'll be more than +she's ever been. It will complete her. She's one of the _right_ people, +Dragon. The deeper you go down, the more you find." + +"Yes, she's like that, the dear child. And she has gained greatly in +character since we came to live here." + +"You've seen that, have you?" + +"Oh, yes. It's the good simplicity in her." + +"That's what she says she sees in him; it's where they come together. +Well, he'll have his regular job here, next year. It won't be much, but +with what I shall give her they could begin. They could have Stone +Cottage. Do you think Caroline has thought of that at all?" + +"She hasn't said anything about it. But it would be just the right +beginning for them; and it would be delightful for us to have her so +near." + +"We should have to think of it as having _them_ so near, shouldn't we? +It would mean a lot to me, and to you too, and the children, to have her +here; but--. Well, I've said nothing about it to her or to him yet. They +may have some idea that they ought to wait till he can do it all, or +most of it, for her. I don't want to claim more than is my right in +her, Dragon. I've had a bit of a lesson about that with B, you know." + +"I think he would have no right to object to her doing more to support +their home than he can at first. It is just where the difference, that +you can't get over, comes in. Caroline ought not to be kept waiting +because he is not the sort of young man she would have been expected to +marry. What you would give her would help in any case, as it helps with +Beatrix. It is only that in this case it would help much more. It would +be just one of the many things she would bring him that he is very +fortunate to get with her. It would be a test of the large simplicity +she sees in him if he took it gratefully, and without question." + +He laughed at her. "Why, Dragon," he said. "I believe, after all, you +take Worthing's view of it--that it's infernal impudence of him to +expect to get Caroline at all." + +She smiled in return. "I have every hope that he will prove worthy of +her," was all the answer she made to this charge. + +Grafton made his offer to Caroline, and gained all he could have wanted +in return from her glowing grateful expression of happiness. "Darling +old Daddy, you _are_ good to us," she said. "I do want to begin soon, +but I didn't know whether it would be possible. Stone Cottage will be +just perfect for us; we shall be near you, which will be lovely. I must +go and tell Maurice at once." + +Maurice thanked Grafton for this extra gift in a way that pleased him. +"You've given me Caroline," he said, "and now you've given us both this. +I have more to thank you for, Mr. Grafton, than I can ever say." + +His gratitude showed itself continually in his attitude towards the +older man. Grafton knew that affection and admiration were working in +his mind towards him, and he had only to stretch out his hand and take +it, if he wanted it. The workings of his own mind were contradictory. +Outwardly, and with strong restraint over himself, he had done the +utmost that could have been expected of him. He had sunk all his +grudges, and hidden all his disappointment. But he knew that still more +had to be done if he were to gain the contentment in Caroline's marriage +that for her sake he was simulating. It could only be done by receiving +Maurice as a son, and if he could not do that for Maurice's own sake as +well as for Caroline's, she would find it out sooner or later, and her +happiness would be dimmed. And her love for himself would have received +a hurt. + +He set himself to talk to Maurice, to find out what was in him, to make +contact. He found all the boy's simple philosophy of life good and +straight and true, and under the impulse of his great happiness and +gratitude he found expression for it. His whole being was set towards +Caroline. His ambitions were all towards fitting himself to be her +worthy companion in life, and to bringing her the fruit of his gifts. +These could never be to any considerable extent those to be exchanged +for money, and his thoughts did not run on the lines of a successful +career. He would be worth a good position in the limited field to which +he would devote his energies, and he took it for granted that it would +come to him by and bye. For himself he looked upon it only as giving him +further scope for the work for which he was fitting himself. There was +never any hint of increased opportunities for his own pleasure in the +future. He would have the full fruition of his own desires from the +first, and he would owe it to Caroline and in a secondary degree to +Grafton. It was she whom he would work and live for. There was a more +single-minded devotion in his attitude towards her than in Dick's +towards Beatrix. All Dick's life and work would be sweetened by +Beatrix's love, but they would be pursued, as the life and work of most +men are pursued, for their own ends. Caroline would be the end and aim +of Maurice's whole existence. + +Grafton was soothed in his spirit by this whole-hearted homage paid to +his girl. She was worth every bit of it, but a lover does not always +honour his mistress for what she is; it is often enough for him if she +is what he wants her to be. Grafton would have been up in arms at once +if Maurice had shown himself merely overjoyed at winning Caroline, and +holding himself as if he had only gained his deserts. He was not +prepared to look upon her as fulfilling her destiny in decorating and +solacing Maurice's unimportant life, however she might think of herself +and her duties towards him. But if Maurice looked upon himself as owing +her life-long devotion and service, his relationship towards her brought +no sense of assumption to her father. It was the right relationship in +his view, and he could rest himself upon it, as the conviction +strengthened itself that it was based upon something stable and sure in +Maurice's character. + +Taking pains to find qualities in him that he had not troubled to look +for before, he was inclined to wonder that he had thought him dull and +uninteresting in conversation. When he had something real to talk about +he could talk as well as another, if he were encouraged to do so. The +difference that had always hampered him with Grafton, as a much older +man, most of whose experiences and interests were beyond his reach, was +being solved by the affection that was reaching out for expression. The +most learned of men find pleasure in the conversation of those who are +not learned, if it is natural, and especially if there is affection to +influence it. And Grafton was not learned; his brains were no better +than Maurice's, though expression of them came easier to him. + +He knew, by the end of those two days, before he went back to his work +in London, that he had only to open his heart to Maurice, and he would +gain from him all that a man who loved his daughter could want from her +husband. He had Dick's affection and friendship. Maurice's was just as +well worth having, and it would be given him in still greater measure. + +As he travelled up to London he smiled to himself as he remembered the +way the Prescotts had received the news. They were the only people, +except Miss Waterhouse and Worthing, who knew of it yet. + +They had guessed it, Viola had said in triumph. She had told Gerry it +was bound to happen, and he had said he had seen it before she had, upon +which had followed a fearsome quarrel. The one thing Gerry would _not_ +stand was anybody being cleverer than himself, and unless she was +prepared to acknowledge herself a sort of bat-eyed idiot their married +life would be wrecked sooner or later. + +Neither of them had seen anything at all unsuitable in an engagement +between Maurice and Caroline. In fact they had seemed to expect Grafton +to be at least as pleased about it as they were themselves. He had not +led them to suppose that he was not pleased, but had given them +opportunities of showing the opinion they held about Maurice. + +They had laid stress on his complete unselfishness. "He'll go out of his +way to help anybody," Prescott had said. "And he does it because it's +his nature to, not because he thinks he ought to. He thinks about +himself less than anybody I've ever known. Caroline will have a splendid +husband." + +There was the unworldly view. The question of station in life did not +interest the Prescotts. Grafton knew that it would interest the people +he would see in London considerably. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MORE OPINIONS + + +The House in Cadogan Place had been given up, and Grafton had taken a +flat. Beatrix dined with him there on Monday. Dick was stationed at +Chatham, but was unable to get away that evening. + +Beatrix was radiantly happy, and more beautiful than ever. She was +growing up to herself all round. Every time that he saw her, Grafton +congratulated himself anew upon having saved her from that other +marriage. Perhaps at first she would have shown herself just as happy in +it; but he would always have been looking for developments, and changes, +none of which he would have expected to be for the better. Now he knew +that all her charm of character could find safe play, and add to her own +happiness and the happiness of those about her, and that its deeper +qualities would be brought into being too, fostered and strengthened. +There was a quality of all-round fitness in her marriage upon which he, +who loved her, could rest himself with pleasure. And she was always +demonstratively affectionate towards him when they met, though not quite +in the same way as she had been before her marriage. All her thoughts +were centred in Dick, and if he had not been prepared to accept Dick as +deserving of all that she gave him, he would have felt the difference. +But there was nothing about Dick that he did not like and respect. He +had taken him in, as he had told Caroline he must be able to take in his +daughters' husbands, if he were not to feel too acutely their loss, and +as he was now struggling to take Maurice in, for Caroline's sake, and +also for his own. + +"Daddy, darling, how _awful_ this is about Caroline!" was Beatrix's +first word upon that subject. + +He had not expected quite such a determined expression of opinion, and +hardly knew what to reply for the moment. It gave him a slight sinking +of heart, he had no time to ask himself why. + +"You haven't told her you think it's awful, have you?" he asked. + +"Oh, no, of course not. I've written her a very nice letter. So has +Dick. And we've both written to Maurice. It seems funny to have to call +him Maurice. If she's _got_ to marry him, Dick says we must treat him as +if we were pleased about it. And she told us that you had been simply +adorable about it. So we knew that was the line you'd like us to take. +But you can't really be pleased, are you, Dad?" + +"Why do you think it's so awful?" he asked. + +"Oh, Daddy, darling, _look_ at him! Look at him beside a man like Dick." + +This rather annoyed him, but he did not show it. "Oh, well, look at +_anybody_ beside Dick!" he said, pinching her chin. + +Dinner was announced at that moment, and the subject was avoided until +the servant left them alone together. Then Grafton spoke immediately. +"Look here, B darling," he said, "I hope you won't go about crabbing +this marriage of Cara's. If you do, she's bound to find it out sooner or +later, and it will make her unhappy. It won't alter anything. She won't +take your view of him, you know, and it can only divide her from you. It +will make a cleavage in our family, and that's just what I don't want. +You'll each have your own homes, but your old home will be a centre for +all of you too. This chap will be part of the family now, and we've got +to accept him, for Caroline's sake." + +She laughed at him. "This chap!" she repeated. "You darling transparent +old thing! You think it's just as odd as I do--her marrying like that. +You didn't talk of Dick as 'this chap!'" + +He was annoyed with himself for the slip. He had not meant to excuse or +explain himself to Beatrix, but now he would have to. "That's just what +I was warning you about," he said. "I don't deny that there are certain +things one has to get over, and until you do get over them you're likely +to let drop something that shows you haven't quite. That's what you must +be careful about." + +"Well, darling, I'm glad you haven't been so careful as all that, with +me. You can quite safely tell me everything. It wouldn't be nice of you +to pretend before me. I might think it very splendid of you, but I +shouldn't love you more for it. I'm quite ready to back you up in +keeping what you really think from Caroline." + +He felt the ground slipping from beneath his feet. "What does Dick say +about it?" he asked. "Can't he see anything in Maurice that all the +world can't see?" + +"He thinks he is very nice; but of course he doesn't look upon him as a +suitable husband for Caroline. He doesn't think you can either, and he +can't make out why you don't try to stop it. You did with +me--before--and we've never ceased blessing you for it." + +"I didn't try to stop it with you because that fellow--I suppose you've +no objection to my calling him that--" + +"You can call him what you like, darling." + +"Well, I didn't object to him because he hadn't got enough money. That's +about what it would come to here." + +"Oh, no, it isn't, darling. And you don't think it is either." + +"Oh, if you can't talk about it sensibly, B, we'd better chuck it." He +rose from the table. + +She rose too and slipped her arm into his as they went into the other +room, and laughed at him. "I think it's awfully sweet of you to want to +make the best of it," she said. "I won't worry you any more, darling, if +you're certain that nothing _can_ stop it." + +"Well, you ought to be able to see it as I do. You know what Caroline +is. She wouldn't give her love, and take it away again when the sort of +objections that you feel towards Maurice are pointed out to her. She's +faced all that, and it doesn't matter to her. She sees a lot more in him +than you can, or than I've been able to; though I tell you that there +_is_ a lot in him, and _I'm_ quite ready to accept him. So you--and +Dick--ought to make the effort too." + +They were standing together before the fire, her arm still in his. Her +face was graver, as she said: "Caroline is different to me. That's quite +true." + +"I haven't meant anything I've said to reflect on you." + +"I know, darling. But you wouldn't treat it like that if it were me, all +the same. Well, of course we shall be as nice about it as ever we can, +and if he does turn into something that makes him more equal to Caroline +it will be all the easier. It's quite beyond me to think of him as her +equal now, Dad, so you mustn't expect me to do it." + +"Oh, well, don't show it; that's all I ask," he said. + +The view taken of the affair by Lady Grafton, whom he saw in the course +of the week, was that it was his own fault for burying Caroline in the +country. If he hadn't wanted her there whenever he went down to Abington +she would have gone about more and met the right sort of men. + +"Oh, my dear Mary!" he said. "She has been meeting what you call the +right sort of men all her life. She doesn't want the life she'd lead +with them. And as for saying that I've kept her down there, you know +that's ridiculous. As a matter of fact it has rather worried me that +she never wanted to go anywhere else, and I'd told her so." + +"I suppose she had fallen in love with this youth, and didn't want to go +away." + +"Now you're talking more ridiculously than ever. I believe she was as +much surprised as I was when she found out what had happened to her." + +"That doesn't sound very likely, George. You told me once that you would +know all about it when Caroline's time came; and I told you, I remember, +that you wouldn't know anything about it at all. And that's what has +happened." + +"I suppose you want to annoy me, Mary. You can be the most exasperating +of women, and I wonder James has put up with you as long as he has." + +"James knows when he's well off. I've never given him a moment's +uneasiness in all my blameless life. Why on earth can't you get this put +off, as you did with B? You acted so wisely there; and see what a reward +you have had! She has made just the right sort of marriage, and is as +happy as happy can be. It's delightful to see her." + +This speech had the effect of restoring his good humour. He laughed at +her. "That's pretty cool, after the way you went for me last year, about +B," he said. + +"You're very difficult to please. I said you had been wise, as things +have turned out. I didn't say I thought you so wise a year ago. If you +knew anything about women you'd see how great a concession I've made in +acknowledging that you were right, and I was wrong. Now there's a +marriage in question much more unsatisfactory than that would have been +you sit by and do nothing. You can't possibly like it, and I know quite +well why you're giving in. I don't think you ought." + +"Why do you suppose I am giving in?" + +"Because you're so weak with your girls that you daren't go against +them. You're afraid they wouldn't be pleased with you." + +He laughed again. "Illogical creature!" he said. "B wasn't at all +pleased with me, and I stuck out, for her sake." + +"And made an awful lot of fuss about it too. You're afraid of the same +thing happening with Caroline, and you daren't face it. That's the plain +truth behind all this talk of her knowing exactly what she wants, and +your accepting her judgment rather than your own. She knows exactly what +she wants now because she's in love. A woman can't judge a man when +she's in love with him." + +"Perhaps not; but she can judge him before, and Caroline has known this +particular man for over a year. So have I, and I say that there's a lot +more in him than a person like you can take into account." + +"Ah, now you're being abominably rude, which shows that I've made an +impression on you. No man can stand being put in the wrong. If you had +half the pluck that you think you have you'd risk Caroline behaving to +you like B did, and save her from making a mistake." + +"You see, I don't think she is making a mistake. You don't know Caroline +as well as I do." + +"I know Caroline very well. And I know women in general much better than +you do." + +"On the outside, perhaps. But you're rather a shallow character +yourself, and one wouldn't expect you to understand everything about a +girl like Caroline. You're also the least little bit of a snob. Most +people are, and it's nothing particular against you." + +"It's no use trying to make me angry, because you won't succeed. If I +can stand being called a snob I can stand anything, and it doesn't make +the least impression on me. Besides, it's a ridiculous charge in this +connection." + +"You don't object to young Bradby for anything that he is in himself; +you only object because you don't think he's a good match for Caroline." + +"Quite so. But that's not snobbery; it's common sense. However, I see +you're determined to have your own way, and I shan't say any more. You +have the air of being one of the most reasonable men in the world, and +you're really one of the most obstinate, as well as quite one of the +rudest. However, no woman who didn't know you as well as I do would be +likely to find that out, and in a general way your manners are charming. +Now you have lost B, and are going to sacrifice Caroline, I think you +might do what I once advised you to, and marry again, yourself. It would +put an end to all this acute annoyance you show so plainly when somebody +else comes along to interfere with the arrangements you have made for a +comfortable family life that shall centre round yourself." + +There was a pause, and then Grafton threw his head back and roared with +laughter. "That's in return for the accusation of snobbery, I suppose," +he said. + +Lady Grafton laughed too. "I can be just as rude as you can," she said, +"and I can do it much more subtly. I wish you wouldn't make me laugh, +and spoil everything. I'm extremely annoyed with you, and there are a +lot more offensive things I should like to say. However, I dare say +you'll give me another chance. But seriously, George, this isn't the +sort of marriage Caroline ought to make. I've seen the young man, and +I've nothing against him in his proper place. But he is hopelessly +_gauche_ and middle-class. That's bound to tell by and bye. Women are +supposed to have no real discrimination about men, and there's this much +truth in it that they can and do fall in love with men who are beneath +them, just as men fall in love with women who are beneath them. But when +they've been brought up like Caroline they simply can't ally themselves +with people not of their own class. Before many years are up she'll be +criticising him for his deficiencies. If she does marry him of course +her relations aren't going to throw her over for it, but she'll drop out +completely. Some men can learn, and raise themselves from the class they +were born in, especially if they have clever wives; but I'm sure this +young man isn't one of them. He'll keep her down to what he is himself, +and really, George, it's a good deal below what Caroline is, or what she +ought to be given over to." + +"Well, Mary, you've put it sensibly at last. But you're wrong in several +particulars, all the same. If it were as simple and obvious as all that +I should agree with you; so would Caroline, for that matter, and she +wouldn't want to marry him. What you've missed altogether is that the +boy has character. I've come to see it already, and he'll grow into +something that she can be proud of. Another thing you've missed is that +she really doesn't want to live in the usual round. She has kept herself +almost entirely out of it for the last eighteen months, because she +likes her quiet country life better. She'll have that with him, and +she'll get more companionship in the sort of things she likes doing than +with a fellow like Francis Parry, for instance." + +"Ah, poor Francis! I don't know what _he'll_ say when he hears about it. +Fancy preferring young Bradby to a man like that! Well, if Caroline +really does, and you're going to back her up in it, she's not quite what +I thought she was, and I suppose I'd better let it alone." + +"I really think you had, Mary. If Caroline isn't quite what you thought +she was, I assure you she hasn't deteriorated. As far as I'm concerned +there's something in all your jibes, but not as much as you think there +is. I do hate losing my girls. They've been more to me than most +daughters are to their fathers, because I've only had them. But because +I feel like that, I should be all the more careful not to let it affect +my actions towards them. My thoughts perhaps I can't help it affecting. +And it's true that I shrink from going through with Caroline what I did +with B. But that wouldn't deter me from standing out if I saw good +reason to do so. I don't; so I'm not going to spoil things by giving in +grudgingly." + +"You're even going to hurry on the marriage, I hear. And you're +providing them with a house--of course at Abington. I don't object to +that though. Caroline won't lose everything that she's been used to +having, and if you get rather more of her society than you're entitled +to, perhaps you deserve it, as you're acting so nobly." + +Which left the last word with Lady Grafton. + +Lady Handsworth was not so critical. She said that she did not +understand it, but she seemed more ready than Lady Grafton to agree that +any man whom Caroline loved must be worth loving. She thought it a pity +that Grafton should not allow time to work, as he might well have done +under all the circumstances, instead of making it possible for Caroline +to marry at once without giving her time to think better of it. But Lady +Handsworth had never seen Maurice, and did not regard him, as Lady +Grafton did, as below the point of gentility with which Caroline ought +to ally herself. So her objections were not likely to be so strong, and +Grafton managed to satisfy her that holding out would not alter matters, +and that an early marriage would make for Caroline's happiness. + +Young George had a 'short leave' during this week and spent it with his +father. He had no objections to urge against the marriage. "I like +Maurice, and always have," he said. "I think he'll make a jolly good +husband for Caroline, Dad, if you help 'em along a bit. I don't suppose +he'll ever make much boodle; but as long as they have enough to get on +with I don't think Caroline will mind that." + +Grafton was pleased to find his son holding these views. There is nobody +more critical of outward appearance than an Eton boy of Young George's +age, and if Maurice had succeeded in impressing himself upon him to this +extent, it showed that his departure from recognised type was no serious +hindrance to him. + +"What does the illustrious Jimmy say about it?" he asked. + +"Jimmy doesn't know Maurice as well as I do. He can only see that he +doesn't brush his hair well, and all that sort of thing. His people are +all right, aren't they, Dad?" + +"Oh, yes. One of his brothers called on me at the Bank yesterday. _His_ +hair was brushed all right, and he would have passed all Jimmy's tests. +I like your view much better, Bunting. I dare say I should have taken +Jimmy's when I was your age, but as you grow older you learn to judge by +other standards. I'm glad you've begun to do that already." + +"Well, I suppose if it was anybody I didn't know so well as I do Maurice +I might not care about it much for Caroline. That's why I don't blame +Jimmy much, though he's rather a swanky ass over that sort of thing." + +"What is it you like particularly about Maurice? He's so much younger +than I am--and always seemed rather alarmed in my presence--that I +hadn't sized him up as well as you seem to have done." + +Young George was flattered at having his opinion asked in this way, and +thought a little before answering. "One of the things I like about him +is just that he doesn't try to swank," he said. "I suppose it wouldn't +be very difficult to make your hair stick down and buy the right sort of +ties and collars if you wanted to. But he doesn't think it's important. +He's as keen as mustard on making the best of himself in other ways. He +thinks everybody has his own line in life if he can only find it. He's +found his all right, but he did his work as well as he knew how, as long +as he was in that beastly bank. We've talked a lot about that sort of +thing. I like him as a pal as well as anybody I know, except you, Dad." + +"Have you talked about your own career in life, Bunting?" + +"We've talked a good deal about school. He thinks most fellows don't +take their work seriously enough. He did his, but he says he hasn't got +that sort of brain, and didn't make much of a hand at it. But he says it +makes all the difference if you look upon school work as something +you've got responsibility for, yourself, and don't leave it all to the +beaks, to see that they get something out of you." + +"Have you acted on his advice?" + +"Well, yes, I have. I'm supposed to be rather a sap at school. But I +find it rather jolly to take an intelligent interest in what I'm doing. +Saves a lot of trouble with the beaks too." + +"You never told me that, old boy. I'm glad to hear it." + +"Well, I thought you were keener on my getting my eleven some day, Dad." + +Grafton laughed. "Oh, we fathers!" he said. "And then they complain of a +public-school education. But I like the idea of your working too, +Bunting. I'm afraid I had nobody to string me up to it when I was at +school; but I've done some work since, and liked doing it as well as +anything. You'll find most men who are worth anything do. And certainly +school work is interesting if you make it so for yourself. Maurice is a +worker, isn't he? That's something good about him." + +"Oh, yes; and he's dead straight too. He's a chap you can't help having +a respect for. Of course I like Dick, awfully. He's straight too, and +keen on his job. But I think there's even more in Maurice than there is +in Dick. He wouldn't have done for B, but he'll do all right for +Caroline. He thinks all the world of her, too. I know that." + +"Did you see this coming, then, Bunting?" + +"Well, no, I didn't. I didn't think she liked him in that sort of way, +though she was always jolly decent to him. She seemed a lot older than +him, and of course he is a bit different from the men she's made +friends with before. But I'm glad she's had the sense to see what a good +chap he is. Jimmy says she might have married anybody, and it's a +come-down for her. But I don't think so." + +"Nor do I, old son," said Grafton. "Nothing that Caroline could possibly +do would be a come-down for her. She's one of the people you can always +trust to do what's right." + +"She gets it from you, Dad." + +"No, old boy. She gets it from somebody much better than me." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AFTER THE WEDDING + + +Caroline was married at the beginning of the year. The Abbey was full of +guests, as for Beatrix's wedding, but there was no occasion to find +other rooms elsewhere; there had not been such a demand for invitations. +Caroline had wanted a very quiet wedding. She was not going to marry +into a more or less exalted position, as Beatrix had done, and was going +to begin, and continue, her married life in a very modest way. But her +father had wanted no difference made between her and Beatrix, and she +had given way. + +It must be confessed, however, that her wedding was not the bright +success that Beatrix's had been. It was, at the outset, one of those +social functions which were to be dropped out of Caroline's life +altogether. Maurice was not calculated to shine in them, in any +capacity, least of all as a leading figure. He was as well dressed as he +ever could be--Worthing had seen to that--but he did not look at ease in +his wedding garments, and his almost bucolic air was heightened rather +than diminished by them. Also he looked extraordinarily young; and a man +who depends on the virile force within him, and lacks most of the graces +of youth, does not show to any advantage until the years have passed +over his head. The contrast between him and Caroline, in the full +flower of her young grace and beauty, was so marked as scarcely to +escape the notice of the most sympathetic, and there were many there who +were far from being sympathetic with a marriage which in their view was +nothing short of a misalliance. Nobody expressed this view to Grafton, +but those who held it showed themselves rather too careful not to. Its +atmosphere was all around him, and he felt more uncomfortable and +doubtful than at any time since he had brought himself to consent. + +When the bride and bridegroom had driven off he was feeling so depressed +that he determined to escape his duties as host for a time, and slip out +for a walk. There was nearly an hour of winter twilight left, and a +sharp frost. A fast walk would brace him in mind and body. + +He went upstairs to change his clothes. He could get down by a staircase +at the other end of the corridor and escape from the house without being +seen, except perhaps by some of the servants. + +As he slipped into a tweed suit and put on a pair of thick-soled boots +his unease of mind deepened. His black hour was upon him. Only at the +death of his wife sixteen years before had he felt the heavy weight upon +his mind that he felt now. But for that one big grief he had dwelt in +the sunshine of prosperity, pleasure, the liking of his friends, the +love of his children. The upset of mind he had endured over Beatrix a +year before had been by far the biggest that had troubled him for all +those long years, and that had never brought him the black cloud that +was settling on him now. + +The marked difference in atmosphere between Caroline's wedding and +Beatrix's was not the cause of his mood, though it heightened, and +perhaps had induced it. He had tested and examined himself so +searchingly during the past weeks that the plainly-to-be-noticed +disapproval of others could not now affect his own conviction that he +had taken the right course. All of those who had a right to express +their opinions had had their opportunity of expressing them directly to +him, and he had answered them. And he had satisfied himself, by many +signs and tokens, of Maurice's essential fitness for the great trust he +had reposed in him. He already felt an affection for the boy; that was +the reward he had gained from sinking his own prejudices, and making a +strong effort to see him with Caroline's eyes. It was a big reward. It +had removed from him all the discomfort of feeling that she was wasting +her fine gifts upon one who could give her no adequate return for them. +He had come to see that she was fulfilling herself in this marriage, and +that the expression of her true and tender nature would flower +beautifully under it, though its flowering might be hidden from the +world at large. + +Nor had he had to make the adjustments of his own attitude that had +troubled him when Beatrix had given her love. Caroline had come to be +more to him than ever before, because he had been able to enter with her +into the deeper places of her heart. That reward he had also gained +from his self-suppression. She trusted him and loved him, and had shown +it as she had always shown it, without once causing him to feel that he +was ever so little shouldered out of his place in her heart. + +And yet the sense of irreparable loss was there in this black hour, and +was growing deeper every moment. He hurried on his changing so as to get +away by himself and keep it at bay by fast movement; and, if he could, +to fight it down and regain his accustomed equanimity. + +It was the sense of change and passing in his own life that had +descended upon him so heavily as Caroline had driven off from her old +home, with her face set towards her new one. With parents happily +married, where family life is welded by strong affection and community +of taste and pursuit, there comes this sense of breaking up when their +children begin to leave them. They are no longer the centre round which +their children's lives revolve. Mothers feel it most when their boys go +to school, fathers when their daughters marry. But the family life goes +on; though not in its fullest measure. Grafton's had come to an end. He +might have Barbara with him for a time when she had finished her +education. Young George would only occasionally be at home, for years to +come. Miss Waterhouse would be there. That was all that would remain of +the happy years in which he had had them all around him. + +Caroline would be near him, but no longer in his home, to surround him +with all the devotion that had brought him such solace since the death +of her mother. He had not known how much he depended upon her until +Beatrix's marriage. She had been almost everything to him since, and had +kept him from the sense of loss that was weighing on him now, when +Beatrix had left him. But it was the loss of both of them that he was +feeling, and the end and finish of the longest and one of the best +chapters of his life. What was his life to be in the future? It was that +question to which he wanted to find some sort of answer before he faced +again the people who had come to celebrate the opening of a new chapter +for Caroline, but the close of one for him. + +When he was ready to leave his room he paused before the portrait of his +young wife hanging over the mantelpiece. He had never wanted her more +than he did now, to tread the downward slope with him. + +As he went along the corridor, the door of a room on the other side of +it opened, and Ella Carruthers, who was staying in the house, came out. +She also was dressed in tweeds and walking boots, and as they looked at +one another she laughed and said: "I see we both want the same thing--to +get away for a bit and think about it." + +His first feeling was one of annoyance. Caught like that, he could not +suggest that he should go his way and she hers. But he wanted no +companionship in his efforts to face what he had to face. + +But when he had said lightly: "We'll go for a sharp walk together, but +don't let anybody else see us," he became conscious that just this +companionship would be good for him. + +She had been so much with his daughters that she was almost like one of +his own family. She was only three or four years older than Caroline. +During the disturbance of mind he had undergone at the time of Beatrix's +engagement to Lassigny she had given him more help than anybody--more +help even than Caroline, because she had a wider knowledge and +experience; and she had shown wisdom with Beatrix too, who had listened +to her when she would have listened to nobody else. If anybody could do +so, she would help him over his dark hour. + +So they set out together through the park, making for unfrequented roads +and lanes, and walking fast. + +Neither of them spoke for some time. Then Ella said: "I'm afraid it +hasn't been much of a success; but I think you were right all the same." + +"Right in what?" he asked. "In having a _pukka_ wedding?" + +"I didn't mean that, but I think you were right there, too. It showed, +anyhow, that _you_ weren't ashamed of it." + +This was pretty plain speaking. But he had encouraged that from her. And +she had already discussed Maurice with him. + +"It was rather tiresome to have them all turning up their noses at him," +he said. "It reflected on Caroline, and I felt it because of that. For +myself I don't mind much. I took my own line long ago, and I've no +reason to regret it. If you've done what you think is right, you're not +much affected by the opinion of other people, especially when they don't +judge by your standards. Do you think my poor little Caroline noticed +it?" + +"Noticed the sort of atmosphere of disapproval, do you mean?" + +"She can hardly have helped noticing it. Did she mind?" + +"I expect she would rather not have had him subjected to that test. It's +the worst he'll ever have to go through, poor boy. But she would look +upon it in the same way as you do--only more so. She would know that +they couldn't judge him as she does. I expect it would make her feel all +the more tender towards him. What he is is for her alone." + +"Then I don't think we need worry. And it's all over for her now. All +over for me, too. Ella, I'm feeling it damnably. I came out to get +myself straight. As you've come with me you must allow me to be purely +egoistic. I want to go back rather happier than I came out. You helped +me before; I believe you can help me now." + +"I'll try," she said. "I expect I know something about it." + +"I don't think you can know much, my dear. It will be a good many years +yet before you have to face the fact that you're getting old." + +She laughed lightly. "If that's what's the matter with you," she said, +"I can sweep the trouble away altogether. You've always seemed to me +about as young as any of us, and you'll go on being young till you die. +It isn't a question of years. I thought it was the reaction of the last +few months." + +"Well, I suppose it is. But what do you mean by that?" + +"I think you've behaved most awfully well," she said. "I've admired you +very much for it, and I'm glad I can say so." + +"Oh, you mean about accepting Maurice. But that's all over long ago. It +was a bit difficult at first, but it hasn't been difficult lately. No, +it isn't that, except that the late performance hasn't cheered me up +exactly. I think I should feel just the same if Caroline had married +somebody that all the world would have accepted as suited to her. It has +brought my life as I've lived it to an end. That's what's the matter +with me, Ella. I've got to rearrange it for myself, and it's rather a +bleak prospect." + +"Tell me about it," she said. "I don't quite see." + +"Well, I suppose most men of my sort, who have work that suits them, and +enough money to get all the pleasures they want, are more or less +content with that when they get to my age, even if their children mean a +good deal to them. But I'm not. Family life has been the best thing I've +had, and I don't know what I shall do without it." + +"You haven't lost them all, have you? And when you come down here you'll +have Caroline almost as much as before." + +"Ah, but it won't be the same. That came simply rushing over me as she +drove away. She's been the dearest daughter to me. She's centred herself +on me. I suppose she's made me selfish. She's given me all that she +could of what her mother would have given me. I've never valued her half +enough. I think I loved B better than her when they were both children. +Not much better, but perhaps enough to make her feel the difference. +That's rather a bad memory just now. I may have done it in ways that I +haven't meant to, that may have hurt her." + +"I'm sure you needn't trouble yourself about that, dear Mr. Grafton," +she said, with some earnestness. "She is devoted to you, in a way she +couldn't be if you hadn't been just as much to her as she has to you. It +has been lovely to see you together. And what you've been able to do +lately has cemented it all as nothing else could have done. I know she's +felt it deeply, because she's told me so. She's full of gratitude and +love for you. And I think you've earned it all. Oh, _please_ don't +trouble yourself in that way. I'm sure you needn't." + +"Well, perhaps I needn't. There can't have been much wrong, or she +wouldn't have been able to give me what she has. I don't think it's +that, either, that is descending on me now. Things are right between me +and all my children. I've only lost what every man must lose when he +gets to my age; only, like Mrs. Gummidge, I feel it more. They have been +my chosen companions. They've kept me young between them. It isn't only +that I love them. I've liked doing things with them better than with +anybody else. I get on with other men as well as most people. Perhaps +before the children grew up I enjoyed myself going about and amusing +myself with my friends as much as any man could. But for the last few +years, and especially since we came to live here, I've liked being with +them better than anybody--I never knew how much better until just now. +When I've been up in London I've been looking forward all the week to +getting down here again. I tell you, it's a bleak prospect to go back to +the sort of life I found pleasant enough ten years ago. I think I've +outgrown it. It's just passing the time. There's nothing left to make it +worth while." + +She was silent for a time, and then said: "You know, your case and mine +aren't so very different. Until you all came to live here, and took me +in so happily, I was really only passing the time. It has made a lot of +difference to me getting all the companionship and affection I have had +here. I feel the break up of your family, too. It has been a delightful +bit of life, and I feel it hasn't lasted half long enough. Still, it +isn't really all over, though it has altered. Caroline will be here, and +Barbara by and bye. Beatrix and Bunting, too, sometimes; and I count for +a little, don't I, Mr. Grafton? You've let me think myself almost one of +your family." + +"Oh, my dear child, you've made yourself part of it as nobody else has. +I couldn't talk like this to anybody but you--not even to the Dragon, +who has an indulgent eye for my weaknesses. It is weak, I suppose, to +grouse as I'm doing. The children are happy, and I've helped to make +them so. It's only myself I'm thinking of, and I shan't inflict my +troubles on anybody after this. You've caught me just at the time." + +"I'm very glad I have," she said. "Perhaps I can do something for you in +return for all you've done for me. One of the last things Caroline said +to me, upstairs, was, 'Take care of my darling old Daddy, while I'm +away.' So you see _she_ was thinking of you, left alone, up to the last; +and she treats me as one of the family. I know I can't take her place, +or B's; but I can do something if you'll let me. You've been awfully +good to me. You've always given me help when I've wanted it, and it +hasn't been altogether easy to behave myself as a responsible person, +when I'm still young enough to prefer to be looked after." + +He smiled at her kindly. "All women want looking after," he said. "But +you've shown yourself remarkably capable." + +She smiled in return, rather ruefully. "I try to be," she said. "But I +don't always feel it. It has been a great comfort to know I could apply +to you in my difficulties. You'll let me make some return now, won't +you? Caroline entrusted me to you, you know." + +"The dear child! Well, my dear, you've done me good already. I thought +you would. Yes, you've made yourself one of us, Ella. It won't be so +desolating to come down here, if you're about. I shall be bringing +people down, but they won't make up to me for the loss of my girls. You +will; so I shall hope to see you over here as much as ever." + +They reached the house again, and went in by the same way. Barbara met +them in the upstairs corridor. "Dad, I've been looking for you +everywhere," she said. "Where ever have you both been?" + +"For a little walk to clear our brains," he said. "Now we're ready to +take up our duties again. What do you want, darling?" + +It seemed that she wanted nothing in particular. She talked to him for +half a minute outside his room, and then went downstairs to join the +rest. + +That evening Ella found herself in a corner of the Long Gallery with +Lady Grafton, with whom she had made friends. + +"You're looking very beautiful to-night," said her ladyship, with an +appraising and approving eye on her, "and most surprisingly young. How +old are you, exactly? I should have said about nineteen." + +"Thank you very much," said Ella. "I'm twenty-five. Sometimes I feel +immeasurably older, but my happiest state is when I can think of myself +as still a girl." + +"Well, you look like one to-night; as I said, about nineteen. I can't +think why you haven't married again. You must often have thought of it." + +She blushed, quite like a girl. She was tall and slim and upright, and +had some of the lithe grace of a beautiful Greek boy. She was beautiful +in feature and colouring too, though it was not the kind of beauty that +is always radiantly apparent, as Beatrix's was. But to-night she was at +her best, and deserved the encomiums passed upon her by Lady Grafton, +who was nothing if not critical. + +"Nobody has wanted me," she said. + +"Oh, come, my dear! Don't tell me that you've been about as much as you +have, and with all you have to offer, without attracting the foolish +race of men." + +"Anyhow, nobody has wanted me whom I have wanted. My first experience +wasn't a very happy one. I suppose you know that, and there's no harm in +saying so." + +"Not a bit. But you're through with it, and it hasn't left much mark. +None that I can see, except that you're wiser. You wouldn't marry again +without knowing what you were letting yourself in for. Men are easy +enough to judge if you look at them with your eyes open. Of course when +you're once in love with them you don't. But you can marry first and +fall in love afterwards. It saves lots of bothers and gives you +something interesting to do at the beginning of married life, which is +apt to be rather dull." + +Ella laughed. "I shouldn't care to run that risk," she said. "One's +freedom is worth something, after all. I shouldn't want to marry anybody +unless I loved him." + +"No. You're very young still. You've a right to look for that sort of +thing. But there's love and love. Unless you find yourself bowled over +by a passion, which may happen to anybody unless they're on the +lookout--at least, I'm told so; it hasn't happened to me yet--I should +pick out a man you like and can trust to look after you, and make you +happy. It's much more comfortable in the long run, and if you manage him +properly you'll have all the love that's good for you, and the sort that +lasts." + +"Supposing he doesn't pick me!" + +"Oh, my dear, you could make any man pick you. You'd only have to pay +him a little attention, and flatter his vanity. They're all the same, +when they arrive at years of indiscretion. That sounds rather clever. I +suppose you wouldn't want quite a young man. I should think you wouldn't +have much difficulty there either, though they want more careful +handling; they're so full of whims and crotchets. But I shouldn't +recommend quite a young man. Five and thirty to two or three and forty +is the best age. I wish George was ten years or so younger. Then you +might marry him, and we should keep you in the family. He's the dearest +old affectionate bat-eyed creature, really, though I never let him know +that I think so." + +"Why do you call him bat-eyed? I don't propose to accept your +invitation, but I love him all the same; and I don't think he's +bat-eyed." + +"Oh, my dear--the fuss he's made about his girls! I've had it all out +with him. He thinks he's been actuated solely by the most unselfish +desire for their happiness, when all the time he's just been hating it +because he can't keep them forever circling round himself." + +"I think you're very unfair. He does love them awfully, and of course he +hates losing them. But the way he's behaved about Caroline shows that he +hasn't been thinking of what he wants himself. I feel very sorry for him +now. He has to begin all over again, and he isn't a bit like an old man, +who can sit down and wait for the end. He's as young in his mind and in +his tastes as if he were twenty years younger." + +"Yes, he's more of a baby than most men of his age, and that's saying a +good deal. He's kept himself fit too. Oh, I don't deny that it has been +a good thing for him to have his children to play with. No doubt it has +kept him out of a lot of mischief. And I'm rather sorry for him losing +them, too, though I don't tell him so. He's too apt to be sorry for +himself; and after all, he's got to put up with it, like everybody +else." + +"How unfeeling you are! I'm not going to hear my dear Mr. Grafton +criticised in that way without protesting. If he had really been +selfish, as most men are, he would just have gone on amusing himself and +hardly have missed the girls at all. It's no discredit to him that he +has been so happy in his home that he can't bear it to be broken up." + +"I suppose he was grousing and grumbling about that when you went out +for a walk this afternoon." + +Ella wondered how she knew that they had been out for a walk, but did +not ask her. "He wasn't," she said indignantly. "You say you like him, +and you're always trying to make him out a poor weak creature with no +backbone at all. I think he's a very wise man, and a good one too. I +love him for loving his family as much as he does." + +"Oh, well, my dear, if you love him, I don't want anything better. I +told him the other day he ought to marry again, now the time has come +for him to lose his girls. He made his first wife happy enough, and he'd +make you. He's no longer young, but he isn't old either, and won't be +for a long time to come. He's a husband you could be proud of, and he'd +never let you down." + +"Thanks for the offer. I'll wait till he makes it himself, and then I'll +think about it. But please don't make mischief, or try to manage. As a +matter of fact, I think the idea would rather shock him, and it isn't +one that appeals to me, or I shouldn't talk about it as I'm doing now. +He has been awfully sweet to me, and treated me very much like the rest. +It has been just what I've wanted, for I was lonely till they came here. +I'm going to keep it up, and help him to get over _his_ bad time--dear +Mr. Grafton! If you go spreading _those_ ideas about you'll make it +difficult for me. So please don't." + +"I should be a precious fool if I did," said Lady Grafton +enigmatically. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +CAROLINE'S HOME-COMING + + +Caroline and Maurice went to the South of France for their honeymoon, +and were away a month. On their return they spent a couple of days in +Paris, where Barbara was again installed for her last three months with +her 'family.' + +Barbara had taken very kindly to Maurice. She had cleared the ground by +telling him everything she could think of that she had ever said about +him from the first. "Now if you can like me after that," she said, "well +and good. We shall be friends for life. If not, say so at once, and I +shall know what to do." + +Maurice had replied that he should have no difficulty in liking her if +she would permit him, and she had forthwith taken him under her wing and +given him several valuable hints on points of behaviour, from which he +professed himself greatly to have profited. He had given her some in +return, and they were on the best of terms together. + +She was allowed to spend the days with them while they were in Paris. +Caroline soon discovered that she was not happy, and was longing to be +at home again. She clung to her side rather pathetically, and was +quieter than her wont, though her quietness was varied by bursts of +gaiety. Caroline made an opportunity of being alone with her soon after +their arrival, and then it all came out. She sat by her side on a sofa +with her head on her shoulder. + +"It's lovely to see you so happy, darling," she said, more tenderly than +she was wont to speak. "I think Maurice is a real dear, and you've +improved him enormously already." + +Caroline laughed. Barbara was allowed to say these things. "He's +improved me," she said. + +"No, he couldn't do that, darling," said Barbara caressingly. "You're +perfect as it is. How I do wish I was coming home with you. I did ask +Daddy, and he wouldn't let me. I hate being kept here, and I've learnt +all the French I want to learn. I'm perfectly miserable here." + +"Why, darling?" asked Caroline. "You were happy enough here before, and +it won't be long now before you're at home for good." + +"I don't think I shall be much wanted when I do come home," she said +forlornly. + +Caroline protested warmly against this statement. "You're the only one +of us left at home now to look after Daddy," she ended. "Of course I +shall see him a lot, but I can't be as much with him as you can." + +Barbara began to cry. She was not given to tears, and hated to have them +commented upon when she did give way. She cried softly on Caroline's +shoulder. "I thought Dad would want me when you and B had gone," she +said. "I wanted to begin at once, to be a lot to him. Of course he +loves me, but he doesn't want me as he did you and B." + +Caroline saw that there was something behind this. "Tell me about it, +darling," she said softly. + +"I believe he'll marry Ella," she blurted out. "She began to worm +herself in the moment you had left. And it's going on now. That's what +makes me so unhappy, being away." + +Caroline was too surprised for the moment to say anything. An uneasy +feeling came over her that she had been too immersed in her own +happiness to have cared much what was happening to those others whom she +loved. + +Barbara went on. "He writes to me regularly," she said, "as he has +always done. But his letters are full of her. She always seem to be +there, whenever he comes down; or he goes over to Surley. He stayed +there from Friday till Tuesday last week, instead of going home. He says +that she has done a lot to make up to him for not having us. That's how +she does it, I suppose. I never liked her as much as the rest of you +did, and now she's showing what she is." + +Caroline put this aside for the time. Her mind was working. "I asked her +to look after Daddy when I went away," she said. "She has written to me +about him, and I've been glad. I never thought what you think, darling. +She has been almost like one of us. I don't think she can possibly think +of him in that way, or he of her. There has been nothing in the letters +of either of them to show it." + +"Well, he doesn't want me, anyhow," said Barbara. "Perhaps I'm jealous, +but if there _were_ nothing else I don't see why she should put herself +in my place." + +"Poor old pet!" said Caroline, kissing her. "Daddy couldn't get you back +again directly after you had come over here, to finish up. When you do +get home you'll be just as much to him as B and I have been. You know he +loves you just as much, but we are older and--" + +"Oh, I'm not grumbling about that. He has always been perfectly sweet to +me, and he hasn't realised that I'm no longer a child, any more than you +did up to a little time ago. But I was so looking forward to taking your +and B's place with him--I know I couldn't do it as well, but I should +have tried--and now _she_ comes in to spoil it all. I hate her." + +"Why do you hate her, darling? Why have you never liked her as we have?" + +"I don't know. It's just that I haven't. Perhaps a little because she +has tried to make me. I didn't exactly hold out, but somehow I couldn't. +I suppose I knew all the time that _this_ was in her." + +"Well, Barbara, darling, I don't think it's as you say; but supposing it +were! We ought not to set ourselves against it, ought we?" + +"What, our own Daddy! I think it would be horrible." + +"Why, darling?" + +She did not say why, but repeated that it would be horrible. + +Caroline was at a loss. "I don't know why you don't like Ella," she said +slowly. "You _are_ good at judging of people, I know--better than I +am--but I think that I should have found it out by this time if there +had been anything that one ought not to like in her. I can't see it if +there is. I think I love her next best after the family. I do love her." + +"Would you love her if you thought she wanted to marry Dad?" + +"Yes, I think perhaps I should love her all the more, though just at +first perhaps I shouldn't like it--I mean I shouldn't like _anybody_ to +marry him. It's difficult to say, before anything has happened; and I +believe you are making a mistake too. But supposing she did, it _could_ +only be because she really loved him. She has had plenty of offers of +marriage." + +"So she says." + +"Oh, Barbara, darling! That's silly. She _is_ beautiful, and clever, and +nice too. Even if you don't agree entirely with the rest of us in liking +her, we all do like her. And I don't think even you have not liked her +really, though you think now you haven't." + +"Well, go on." + +"How am I to go on? Don't you agree that she wouldn't marry him unless +she loved him?" + +"Oh, I suppose so; but it would be a silly sort of love, when he's so +much older than she is." + +"Isn't that rather reflecting on him? Women do marry men a lot older +than themselves, and love them devotedly. I'm sure darling Dad is worth +any woman's love. He's so kind, and understanding. And he's very +good-looking too, and not even elderly, as many men of his age are." + +"I can't imagine him falling in love, especially with somebody like her, +who has been almost like we have to him." + +"Well, that's what makes it difficult to talk about. Perhaps he +wouldn't. I can't take it for granted you are right. One can only look +at it in a general sort of way; and if it did happen I don't think there +would be--anything out of the way in it--certainly nothing _horrible_, +as you say." + +Barbara's tears flowed again. "I suppose it's I who am rather horrid," +she said. "I should be if there wasn't anything in it at all. But I'm +almost certain there is, or I shouldn't have thought about it. Did you +know that the moment you went away she went out for a walk with him?" + +"Yes, she told me that, and that he was feeling frightfully depressed at +losing me, and she hoped she had cheered him up. If that's all, Barbara, +darling, I think you are making a great deal out of a very little. I +asked her to look after him, myself. Of course I didn't mean any more +than to be as she always has been." + +"I think you might have asked me to do that. I wanted to." + +Caroline was stricken with compunction. "Oh, darling," she said, "I knew +you would. I'd no idea of her taking your place. I know how glad he +will be to have you back. And I'm going home now. I shall look after him +myself." + +"Will you write and tell me what is happening?" + +"Of course I will. Everything." + +"If _that_ is happening, shall you try to stop it?" + +"What could I do to stop it?" she asked, after a pause. + +"You might remind Daddy that all his daughters haven't gone away from +him yet. And Caroline, I wish you'd just say something--from yourself, I +mean--about me being older, and that you liked having me to talk to and +tell things to, after B was married. You did, you know, in the summer +holidays. Daddy might see it if you said it about me--that I _could_ be +a lot to him, I mean, if he wanted me. Of course you'd have to do it +carefully." + +Caroline promised to do this, and left Barbara two days later, somewhat +comforted, but still rebellious at her exile, at this particular time. + +She had given Caroline a good deal to think about. She confided +Barbara's fears to Maurice, who expressed himself incredulous. But on +such a subject as this he was not much of a guide. His training had not +prepared him for judging of a man considerably older than himself, as +one who had lived more in the world might have done. Grafton was +Caroline's father. He could treat him with respect, and with affection, +but hardly as having any of the qualities of youth remaining in him. He +thought it very delightful that his family should treat him in the +companionable way they did, which was different from any way of parents +and children of which he had had experience; but he was still apt to be +surprised at certain manifestations of their attitude towards him. +Caroline felt all the time that it was even more difficult for him than +it was for her to envisage her father as a man who might still desire +for himself what belonged by right to youth. It was only difficult for +her because he was her father. She had to think of him from outside +herself, and she had plenty of experience to guide her in seeing him as +a man who might legitimately look for a further period of happiness in +marriage, and as quite capable of gaining the love and devotion of a +woman much younger than himself, and of keeping it. + +"I do want him to be happy," she said, "and in his own way. Of course it +would mean that he would give to her a great deal of what we have all +had, and that's why poor little Barbara hates it so. But after all it is +just what has happened with us--with B and me, and will happen by and +bye with Barbara. He isn't less to us than he was, but he's no longer +everything. We shouldn't be less to him." + +"I think you would," said Maurice. "It isn't quite the same." + +The idea still shocked him a little, and for the first time he was +unwilling to express all his thoughts to Caroline, for they would seem +to reflect upon her father. His simplicity and singleness of purpose +went along with some rigidity of mind and outlook. Life presented +itself to him in elementary forms, and his ideas, born partly from his +very limited experience, had not yet fully expanded under the influence +of the great change that had come to himself. It was a man's right +course to find his work in the world and to give himself up to it. All +the rest would be added in due season, and he must not step out of his +path to seek it for himself. He had lately learned that work can have a +consecration that will lift it to a still higher plane of rightness; but +that discovery had only settled his convictions. He did not think of +Grafton as a man who had ever put his work in its proper place. He had +seen him only enjoying the fruits of it, and depending upon those fruits +for most of his contentment in life. He might not acknowledge it, even +to himself, of Caroline's father, and certainly he would not have +acknowledged it to her, but his tendency was to regard a man to whom +life came so easily as it did to Grafton as liable to be weakened in +fibre. He might take to himself gratifications that did not legitimately +belong to him. In some respects the conventions of youth are more +binding than those of age. Maurice would not have been disturbed at the +idea of his father-in-law married again, to a lady of ripe age. He could +not accustom himself to the idea of his falling in love at the age of +fifty-one, and hoped that Barbara's fears would prove to be unfounded. + +They went home by way of Havre and Southampton, and reached Abington +without going to London. The Abbey was empty. Miss Waterhouse was away +visiting, and Grafton was tied to the Bank that week. He was to stay at +Stone Cottage over the week-end and Caroline made the most loving +preparations for his reception. + +Her happiness, but for the cloud brought by Barbara's fears, which try +as she would she could not treat otherwise than as a cloud, was +complete. The cottage, which had been renovated for them throughout, was +as charming a little house as any newly married couple could wish to +inhabit. Her father had offered to enlarge it for her, but she had +wanted to run it on a modest scale, with only one servant, and as the +wife of a poor man to do a great deal in it herself. Electric light had +been installed, and a sumptuously fitted bathroom. Otherwise, except for +its new paint and papers, it was as Mollie Pemberton and her mother had +made themselves happy in. + +Caroline had had her way with all the furnishing and arrangements of the +Abbey when they had come to live there, but her zest for her very own +little house was in no way diminished. It was almost too full of wedding +presents, many of which would have been more suitable for the wife of a +rich man than of a poor one. But Caroline had a genius for making a +room. Mollie Pemberton opened her eyes when she saw what she had done +with Stone Cottage. + +Mollie and her husband, the Prescotts, Worthing, and Ella Carruthers, +all came to see her on the day of her arrival, or the day after, and all +helped her to get into order. She thought she must know from Ella's +manner if what Barbara dreaded had come to pass, or was coming to pass. +But she could tell nothing. Ella was just the same to her as ever, and +showed herself delighted and excited at having her back. She seemed to +have nothing to hide, and talked about Grafton with the frank affection +that she had always exhibited towards him. If Caroline had not seen +Barbara, no idea of any change would have come to her. + +And yet she was not sure that Barbara was not right. + +On the third morning she went to the Abbey to fetch some things for her +father, who was coming down that evening. + +It was rather sad to see it deserted, by all except the servants. But +she did not feel sad on her own account. She now stood outside it, and +the life it represented. She went through the large and beautiful rooms, +so different from those in which her own life was to be spent, and asked +herself whether she would regret anything that she had given up to marry +Maurice. She could not find in herself the least desire to inhabit such +a house again, even with him. She had immensely enjoyed coming to it, +and dealing with it, but those enjoyments seemed now to have belonged to +a different person. She had taken naturally the good things that had +come to her through wealth, and found pleasure in them; but she wanted +them no longer. She had something much better. Her happiness, as she +went through the house, and into the gardens, was singing in her. The +house and the gardens themselves had given her happiness, but it was +nothing to this new-found happiness, and they spoke to her scarcely at +all now for herself. She was thinking all the time of her own little +house in the village. + +Not quite all the time. Her thoughts were much occupied with her father. +The empty house, which for some time he would have to inhabit alone, or +with the companionship of guests instead of that of his children who had +surrounded him with love and affection, brought home to her fully for +the first time what he had lost. If the light of the house had gone out +for her, it had gone out for him also. But she had her home and her +centre of love elsewhere. + +She thought of the mother whom she had known and loved as a child, and +still loved, as she knew he did. If she had been alive he would not thus +have come to the end of most of what had made his home dear to him. She +wondered what it would have felt like to come home from her honeymoon +and find her mother waiting for her. Her old home would not have lost so +much of its meaning if she had been there. But she did not think much +about herself except to ask what she could do to make up to her father +for his loss. + +She thought, rather sadly on his behalf, that the very perfection of +their family life must make the change worse for him. She would be much +with him when he came down to Abington, but not the constant companion +she had been hitherto. He had done hardly anything there without her, +and she had devoted herself to him as now she would devote herself to +her husband. She had gained immeasurably, and a great part of her gain +was his loss. She knew that she had been more to him than any of the +others, and that he had come more and more to depend upon her. She had +loved him to come to her with any new idea or discovery, which would +have lost half its value to him unless they had shared it. His letters +since her marriage had been full of little jokes and felicities to which +he had wanted her response; and she had always given it, but with the +knowledge that it was no longer to him that she would take her own +little discoveries and appreciations, and that he might sooner or later, +unless she was very careful, be saddened by the change in her. He would +never claim more than his right, but the change would be there, of +necessity, and the loss to him. + +Ought she not to be glad if he had found some one in whom his affections +and home-loving desires could centre themselves again--some one who +would give him back the devotion that he so richly deserved. It was +natural that poor little Barbara should think that her turn had come to +be his chosen companion, and resent the intrusion of another into the +place she was so touchingly anxious to fill. But Barbara could not be +expected to realise that her part would probably only be played for a +few years at the most, and that when she left home the change would fall +upon him still more heavily. And by that time his chance of winning for +himself what he might want would be less. Perhaps it would have +disappeared altogether. Caroline thought that her father would not +deliberately set himself to choose a wife with whom he might be happy. +But if a woman so beautiful and so suited to him in mind as Ella were to +show him now that she loved him well enough to marry him--surely his +children who loved him should do nothing to dim the happiness that might +be his! + +And yet she was not quite happy about it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A VISIT + + +Preparations for her father's visit were a serious affair with Caroline, +and with Maurice too, for he saw how much it meant to her, and loved +every manifestation of her personality. + +At the same time he was a little nervous about it all. There seemed to +him such an immense difference between the way of living which was +natural to himself, and that which Caroline took for granted, even in +this modest home of theirs. All the beautiful furnishing and +appointments, as perfect on their smaller scale as those to be found at +the Abbey, he took pleasure in as the right setting for Caroline, and as +giving her pleasure; but they said nothing to him apart from her, and he +found them even a little irksome. They marked the difference between him +and her, and, especially in the light of her careful and loving +preparations, between him and her father. + +Grafton was not a man to whom creature comforts were all in all. He +could have roughed it if necessary, even at his age, as well as Maurice +himself. But it seemed to Maurice that he needed as much attention and +cosseting as a woman. His bedroom was arranged so that he should miss +nothing of what he was accustomed to--his personal belongings brought +down from the Abbey, his bedside table furnished with carefully shaded +light, books, cigarettes, matches, ash-tray. His own servant was to be +in waiting for him when he came, to deal with his clothes, and again in +the morning, when he was to have his tea at the early hour he affected. +There were the soaps and salts he liked in the bathroom, and the bath +sheet was to be warmed and sent up at exactly the right time. Meals were +a subject of earnest discussion between Caroline and her maid, and +immense care was to be taken in preparing them. He had stocked their +tiny cellar himself, and old Jarvis was called in to decide upon the +question of wines and _liqueurs_, Maurice being entirely ignorant on +such subjects. And Jarvis was to wait at table. The maid, though a +treasure, could not do justice to the occasion. + +In as far as all this meant that Caroline was displaying the charming +desire of a young housewife to acquit herself well, and to do honour to +one whom she loved, he could sympathise with her. But he did not see +that it meant that almost entirely, and put a good deal of it down to +the exigencies of a rich man, which Caroline had rather wasted herself +hitherto in satisfying. + +He was in process of adjusting himself all round. He would not have +believed beforehand that so many of the ways of a large house could have +been imported into a small one, run with one servant, as were +surrounding him in Stone Cottage. They would not always live exactly as +they were going to live during the few days of Grafton's visit But the +life to which they were already settling down was far more elaborate +than any he had ever lived before, even in Worthing's bachelor +establishment, which was run on more elaborate lines than those of his +father's vicarage. + +Caroline busied herself greatly about the house, doing much of the work +in the rooms, and even in the kitchen, herself. But that was when he was +out. Whenever he saw her she was no more occupied with such work than +she had been at the Abbey. She would be in her drawing-room, having +changed her clothes, ready to give him his tea when he came home, and +she would keep him bright company afterwards. Then she would dress for +dinner, and of course it was taken for granted that he would dress, too. +The little dinner would be perfect, and the invaluable maid would serve +it in such fashion that it was difficult to think of her as having also +cooked it. Then after their coffee they would go into the drawing-room, +where it seemed profanation for Maurice to smoke a pipe. So, though +Caroline encouraged him to do so, he was preparing himself to knock it +off altogether, and content himself with a cigarette after dinner until +later in the evening. + +To a man brought up to this way of living it would have been a miracle +of happiness to have had it all so cleverly provided for him by the +young wife who was anxious that he should miss nothing of what he had +been used to. The little parlour, beautifully furnished as it was, was +not a lady's boudoir, in which a man could not feel himself at home. +There was a big easy chair, books, and magazines, arrangements for +writing. But though the whole house and all its arrangements were to +Caroline the last word in simplicity and economy, it was complicated +luxury to him, of a sort that he could only adopt as his ordinary mode +of life for her sake. It was not he who had gained it for her, or he +might have taken more pride in it. As against this it was part of her, +who was so much more delicately nurtured than himself, and the fit +setting for her delicate charm, which he, as much as any of those who +considered it ill-allied with his outward absence of charm and delicacy, +thought of as setting her above him. So he was happy in adapting himself +to what meant restraint and careful watchfulness to him. In all +essentials her desires were as simple and unenvious as his. He knew that +if their lot had been cast in a new country, where she would have had +few or none of the refinements that she had always lived with, she would +have made nothing of doing without them, and would have worked for him +as he would have worked for her. She should never guess, if he could +help it, that this sophisticated life was uncongenial to him. He had +her, as his constant delight and treasure, and what did anything else +matter? + +Caroline went to the station alone to meet her father. Maurice had work +to finish at the office, or said he had. He thought that Grafton would +like to have her to himself alone at their first meeting. He was full of +these little delicacies of mind, and of thoughtfulness for others. And +her tenderness for her father had awakened an echo of it in himself. He +had been so generous to him, giving him this priceless gift, which he +had done so little to deserve, and losing so much in the giving of it. +He was anxious to please him, and efface himself in doing so. There was +not much he could do to show him gratitude. But she could do a great +deal. + +Only, if Grafton were preparing to transfer the centre of his affections +from the hearts that had hitherto held it, Maurice would not look upon +him with quite the same eyes. + +He thought about it as he sat at his table in the office, not very busy +with the work that he had given himself to do. He could not yet get used +to the idea, try as he would. He thought that it was troubling Caroline, +though she was preparing herself to welcome it if it should happen. It +disturbed him somewhat that there was already a subject upon which they +could not talk together with the freedom which it was their joy to use +in everything. But to express all his thoughts would be to criticise her +father, and he would not do that. In the sanguine spirit of youth, he +hoped that this visit would prove that the fear was unfounded, and +returned to his work. + +In the meantime Caroline, driving to the station, was wondering what +Maurice really thought of it, for she knew well enough that he had not +told her all his thoughts. He might just as well have done so, for she +divined the course they took, and was only ignorant of the strength of +his antagonism to the idea. In this, as in smaller matters, she had to +distinguish between ideas of his which arose from his true and right +attitude to the basic facts of life and conduct, and those prompted by +his limited experience. In all essentials she respected his judgment as +that of no other man. But in some non-essentials she knew that her own +opinion was of more value than his, and that she could influence him. +Was this question of her father's marriage one in which she ought to +take his view, or be guided by her own wider experience, and influence +him towards hers? She was divided between loyalty to her father and +loyalty to her husband, but for the present she no more than he was able +to solve the problem. She put it from her mind, and gave herself up to +pleasure in the prospect of seeing her father again. + +But even this pleasure was slightly tinged with doubt. Two strands were +interwoven in her love for her father. Of late years he had been so much +her preferred companion, and her position in his household had been +such, that there had come about a sense of equality more than exists +commonly between father and daughter. It was the spirit of companionship +that in its fullest measure she had transferred to Maurice, and its +transference had thrown into relief again the filial relationship, which +had been strengthened by the quality of the love her father had shown +towards her over her marriage. He had effaced himself. There had been no +flaw in his tender paternal care for her welfare and happiness. Her +grateful devotion to him was stronger than ever, but it flowed towards +his fatherhood in a fuller degree than of late years. She recognised +this change in her and thought that the idea of his marriage to one who +had shared with her the happy associations that were not wholly filial +would not have perplexed her as it did now if it had arisen a year +before. She was not so far from Maurice in her emotions towards it as +either of them thought. + +But the doubts were all swept away when they met. He was her father, +loving and overjoyed to see her again, and apparently as excited at the +prospect of playing guest to her hostess as she was. + +She had hardly ever seen him in higher spirits than during their drive +home together. They laughed together all the time, and she felt the bond +between them to be as strong as ever. + +Her cup of happiness was full when they reached home and his pleasure +showered itself over her husband as well as herself. His greeting of +Maurice was of the warmest, and without an atom of constraint. She knew +that he had had a struggle with himself to accept him for her sake, and +what valiant effort he had made to conceal it. But she felt now at last +that the need of effort on his part no longer existed. Maurice was a son +to him, at least as much as Dick was. In fact he showed more affection +towards him than he habitually showed towards Dick, putting his hand on +his shoulder as they stood together for a minute before the fire in the +parlour, and chaffing him and Caroline together as two children absurdly +but thrillingly placed in a position of responsibility. + +When he had been conducted to his room, where Jarvis had made all ready +for him to dress for dinner, and Caroline had changed the position of +some things on his dressing-table, and Maurice had poked the fire, +before withdrawing, they smiled happily at one another. "It's jolly to +have him here," said Maurice. "And he _is_ so pleased to see you again." + +"You too, darling," said Caroline. "He's awfully sweet to both of us." + +"I'm pleased enough to see him," said Maurice. "There's nobody in the +world I'd rather have here. He's awfully pleased about Beatrix too." + +Grafton had told Caroline on their way home that Beatrix was expecting a +child, and a letter from her to Caroline had come by the evening post. +They talked about it at intervals during the evening. Caroline laughed +at the idea of his becoming a grandfather, but in her slightly altered +attitude towards him the relationship seemed more fitting to him than it +would have done before. There was no doubt about his pleasure in it. + +Ella's name was mentioned, quite naturally by him. "She's been a great +consolation to me while you've been away," he said. "Sometimes I haven't +missed you in the least, darling. She has been quite like one of the +family." + +Would he have said this if he had been thinking of giving her the chief +place in the family? Maurice thought not, when he and Caroline talked it +all over at the end of the evening. His own fears, he told her, were at +an end. Her father had allowed Ella to console him for the loss of his +daughters, because she had been more like them than anybody else. But +it was them he really wanted. Now Caroline had come home that was plain +enough to be seen. + +Caroline was inclined to think as he did. Her father's high spirits and +his obvious pleasure in having her back had made everything just +perfect, and the way that he had taken Maurice into it all gave her the +idea that he was happier in her new happiness than if he had kept her to +himself. Such an attitude relieved her of the uneasy balancing of the +claims of husband and father. If his fatherhood could take them both in +and sun itself in their happiness, so that the thought of them would +always be present with him, there would be much to balance the loss of +her companionship to him. He might indeed have almost as much of it as +before, since she would always be at Abington when he was there; and to +enjoy it with that of Maurice added, so that what had knitted the two of +them together would now knit the three, would be a gain all round. It +would even heighten her appreciation of her own married happiness, for +it would bring Maurice nearer to her in the one big thing in her life +that would otherwise tend, however slightly and on the surface, to +divide their aims. + +She was very happy when she fell asleep, and thought of her dear father +lying under her roof, still as near to her as he had ever been. But when +she awoke in the night, after realising with some pleasurable emotion +that he was there, and not going to sleep again immediately, the doubts +began to creep in. + +Might not these delightfully high spirits, which she had attributed to +his joy in being with her again, and his pleasure in the thought of +Beatrix's child coming--might they not have sprung from another source +altogether? Ella was coming over to lunch that day, and they were to +lunch with her on Sunday. If she was becoming, or had already become, +the beloved object, that exhilaration which had made him seem as young +as either of them throughout the evening past would be sufficiently +accounted for. She knew from her own experience, and from memories of +Beatrix, how the joy of loving and being loved effervesces in sparkling +merriment, and sheds itself over those who are loved already. It +saddened her a little to think that her father's whole-hearted +acceptance of Maurice, which had so charmed her that evening, might +after all only mean that she herself was no longer of paramount +importance to him. His pleasure in their society would remain, but it +would not call forth of itself that demonstration of happiness. It would +not be they who had caused the years to fall off him. + +She could come to no conclusion, except that if he were in the early +stage of discovery that he might still love and be loved, it would +affect him to just that insurgence of youthful spirit that he had shown +throughout the evening. + +He was less hilarious in manner the next morning, but still cheerfully +content at being where he was. All three of them went down to the Abbey +and looked for early flowers in the rock-garden. Then Maurice went off +to his work, and he and Caroline went to see the Prescotts, and after +that he wrote a long letter to Beatrix while she busied herself with +preparations for luncheon. + +Ella came, and there was a revival of the high spirits; but all of them +shared in it. There was nothing that there had not been scores of times +before, when she had been with them and they had all made merry +together. Nothing to indicate either in him or in her that the +affectionate terms they had always been on now hid something deeper. The +affection on either side expressed itself plainly enough, and to an +outsider would certainly have seemed to indicate an unusual attraction; +but it was what they had gradually come to. She had been given the +affection of the family, his no less than theirs, and returned it. + +Caroline wrote a long letter to Barbara, when he had gone back to +London. "Really, darling, I think you are wrong. She does love him, just +as all of us do, and he is awfully sweet to her, as he is to us. It has +always been the same, and we have been glad of it. If you had not put it +into my head that there might be something more, I should only have felt +pleased that she had been able to console him for us all being away. +Perhaps I haven't been _quite_ certain, but I do think that if it had +been as you think I should have known it. For one thing I think he would +have wanted to be alone with her sometimes, and perhaps she with him, if +it were _she_ who wanted it, as you seemed to think. But neither of them +ever showed any wish at all to be by themselves, even for a minute or +two. It was all of us being happy and merry together, as it has always +been. And what makes me feel more than anything that it can't be is that +darling Dad seems older at the same time that he seems younger. He has +been simply adorable to Maurice and me, and Maurice loves him almost as +much as I do. And he is in a heaven of delight about precious B, and is +going to rush off to her this afternoon the moment he can get away from +the Bank. I can't help thinking that if he had it in his mind to begin +all over again, for himself, with somebody so much younger, he wouldn't +be _quite_ so pleased at the idea of being a grandfather. + +"And he was awfully sweet about you too, darling. He made me tell him +_everything_ about you, and kept on asking questions about you. He does +love you awfully, and it will be splendid when you come home, and can +look after him, and make him happy, as B and I have tried to do." + +Barbara's fears were not allayed by this letter. "_He_ hasn't said he +wants me home," she remarked to herself. "If he had, she'd have said so. +I should only be in the way." + +Caroline went up to London for a day's shopping that week. She lunched +with Lady Grafton, and her father came to meet her, but had to leave +immediately afterwards. + +"The dear man!" said Lady Grafton. "I've never seen him so pleased with +himself. It has given him a new lease of life. If it weren't for his +hair you might take him to be about thirty." + +They had been talking about Beatrix, and Caroline thought she referred +to that. "He'll love being a grandfather," she said. "He'll be like he +was to us when we were children, with B's baby." + +"Let's hope he'll have babies of his own," said Lady Grafton +uncompromisingly. "Most men wouldn't care about it at his age; but he +will. He'll dote on them." + +Caroline was taken back. Those possibilities had been absent from her +mind, though Ella's name had been mentioned more than once. "What _do_ +you mean?" she asked. + +"Oh, my dear, you can't be as blind as all that. When did you ever see a +man in the state he's in unless he was in love, and things were going +well with him?" + +Caroline was silent. + +"_Haven't_ you seen anything?" Lady Grafton asked. + +"You mean with Ella?" + +"That shows you have. You ought not to be jealous and selfish about it, +you know. He hasn't been to you. He behaved extraordinarily well over +_your_ marriage." + +"I know he did," said Caroline quickly. She wanted no enlightenment of +her aunt's opinions upon her marriage. "I shouldn't be jealous or +selfish if he wanted that to make him happy. But I don't think he does." + +"It's what _would_ make him happy, isn't it? She's a very charming +creature, and she's devoted to him. She'd give him all the sort of young +brightness that he's had from you, and a lot more besides. I don't say +you _are_ selfish. You never have been. But he isn't everything to you +any longer, and you can't be everything to him, though I know you'll be +everything you can. You ought to be glad that there's somebody who can +step in and fill your place." + +"Dear Aunt Mary, I think I should be, if I thought it was likely to +happen. But you wouldn't expect me not to feel just a little sad that we +shouldn't be everything to him any longer, as you say." + +This was what Lady Grafton wanted. She did not like Caroline's marriage, +and if her affection for her niece prevented her saying so, she was yet +in the state of finding relief by being a little hard on her. + +"That's only jealousy," she said. "And at bottom it's the jealousy of +the young towards those they look upon as elderly. The fact is that +George ought to have married again while he was still a young man. +Almost any woman would have been glad enough to have him, and with the +right sort of woman he'd have been a husband in a thousand. He was, as +long as it lasted. He didn't marry again because he devoted himself to +all of you instead, and as long as _that_ lasted he had all he wanted, +though not as much as he might have had. Now he's lost it. B hardly +thinks of him at all, except when she's with him, and of course he's +nothing to you beside your husband. I don't blame you for that. It's +natural enough, especially when you're first married. But he loses it +all the same." + +"I don't believe he feels that he's lost it. Maurice is almost as +devoted to him as I am." + +Lady Grafton refrained from saying: "So he ought to be," and said +instead: "I'm glad to hear that," but in a tone that made Caroline +regret that she had brought his name in. Of course Aunt Mary was +incapable of understanding what she and Maurice together might be to her +father. "I do love him," she said, "as much as ever; even more, I think, +because he's been so good to me. I don't believe anybody in the world +loves their father more than I do. It doesn't make me love him less +because I love my husband. He knows that." + +"Oh, my dear, we're not talking about all that. You've given him the +love of a daughter; so has B, though she hasn't been as careful about it +as you have. It was enough for him as long as you were all with him. Now +you can no longer be with him it isn't good enough for him, though no +doubt it will always count for a good deal. He wants the love and +attention in his home, and he has a right to it if he can get it. What +you want to do is to keep him tied down to his position as a father, and +a grandfather. You can't see that other people may look upon him in +quite a different light. He's an unusually attractive man, and +extraordinarily well preserved. _You've_ all had something to do with +keeping him young, and I've always said so. It isn't every woman, or +even every girl, who falls in love with callow youth." + +Caroline had something of her father's equability under attack. "I +suppose that's a hit at me," she said with a smile. "I shouldn't be +surprised, you know, at anybody falling in love with Dad. I know what a +darling he is. But I'm not going to take blame to myself for thinking of +him more as a father, or even as a grandfather. Do you think Ella loves +him in that way? I know she _does_ love him. You've seen her, haven't +you, since I've been away?" + +"Yes, I've seen her. What I think is that they're both of them +absolutely ready for it. But they _might_ be held back, and a great +chance of happiness for both of them lost, by doubts of how _you_ would +take it. Now I shan't say any more. You'd better think it over." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE FAMILY VIEW + + +Dick went off on a cruise, and Beatrix came to stay at Abington. She +came for a few days to Caroline, and then moved down to the Abbey to be +with her father when he came home at the end of the week. + +Caroline thought her more lovely than ever. She was radiantly happy at +the thought of her child coming, but rather quieter than she had been +wont to be, though at times she showed all her exuberant high spirits. + +She and Maurice got on very well together, but Caroline knew, and he +also probably knew, that she did not take much interest in him. She was +bright and friendly with him when he was there, but when he wasn't she +seldom mentioned him. But she clung to Caroline. She _had_ to come to +her, she told her. Even if Dick hadn't been obliged to go off, she would +have left him and come. Or perhaps she would have asked Caroline to come +to her. Here she laughed. "I'm more in love with him than ever," she +said, "and I can't bear to be parted from him. But I want you too, +darling, awfully. I do miss you, and I wish we lived nearer to each +other." + +So she would have flown to her mother at this time. Caroline felt very +tenderly towards her. She was such a child, in spite of her approaching +motherhood. Maurice was touched, too, by her dependence upon Caroline. +Caroline told her some of the things he had said about her, and she +said: "He's an awful dear, Cara," and then went on to talk about Dick. + +They talked a great deal also of their father. Beatrix was inclined to +Lady Grafton's views, which had been imparted to her as well as to +Caroline. "The idea was rather a shock at first," she said. "But when I +came to think it over I thought it would be rather hard lines on the old +darling not to be pleased about it, if it happens. He's not so +_frightfully_ much older than Dick. If Dick had been married at +eighteen, as one of his shipmates was, we were reckoning it out that he +might have a daughter of fourteen now, and she'd only be two years +younger than Bunting." + +Caroline laughed. "I don't quite see what that has to do with it," she +said. + +"Oh, I do. What I mean is that because he's our dear old Daddy, we don't +think of him as somebody who ought to be falling in love at his time of +life. But I don't see why he shouldn't. And he's a million times +better-looking than heaps of young men. If he were on the stage lots of +silly girls would be in love with him." + +Caroline laughed again. "I've got over all that feeling, if I ever had +it," she said. "And Ella has been married before. She has been like a +girl with us, but she's older in a great many ways. I suppose it would +be suitable enough." + +"Oh, I think so. And it would be more fun for the old darling to marry +somebody he was in love with, than just to marry again--somebody like +the Dragon, perhaps--just because _we_ have got married and he feels +rather lonely. Aunt Mary says that it isn't fair to expect him just to +sit down by himself and think of us and our babies. He has as much life +in him as anybody else, and he has given us the best part of it. Now +we've left him he ought to have a chance on his own account. I don't +look at it quite like that, but--" + +"I'm sure _he_ doesn't," Caroline interrupted her. "He has been the +dearest father to us that anybody could have had, but we have made him +happy, too. It isn't as if he had sacrificed himself." + +"That's what I told her, and she said the sacrifice would begin now, if +we didn't do all we could to help this on. What _does_ Ella think about +it, Cara? You ought to have found out by this time. I'm not sure I +shan't ask her when I see her." + +"You won't want to when you do see her. She is just the same--towards +him and towards us. I think she always will be. That's why I sometimes +think that it would be rather nice if it did happen--nice for us, I +mean, as well as for Dad." + +"That's what I have come to think, too, with Aunt Mary to assist me. +What she says is that if there were a question of his marrying somebody +of what would be called a suitable age we should probably be glad of it, +as we shouldn't have to bother ourselves about Dad when we simply +wanted to be selfish with our own homes and husbands." + +"Yes, that's the sort of thing that Aunt Mary _would_ say." + +"But what we really object to is his having the sort of happiness we +have got for ourselves. Because he wouldn't get any of it from _us_." + +"There is generally a spice of truth in Aunt Mary's sharp speeches, +which is worth looking out for. You haven't told me what Dick says about +it." + +"Oh, Dick takes the man's point of view, of course. Man remains a +lovable creature till he's about seventy, or eighty or ninety. A woman +has to leave off expecting to be loved when she's about thirty. He says +Dad is as young as anybody, and he can't see what all the fuss is +about." + +"I don't know that there is any fuss. Except with poor darling Barbara. +She hates it." + +"Poor lamb! Of course she was looking forward to having her innings, +with both of us married." + +"She has never liked Ella as much as we have." + +"I haven't noticed much difference. Of course she's jealous of her now. +But that would calm down. I _should_ like Dad to have some more +children. He'd be awfully sweet to them. Fancy! They'd be younger than +mine." + +Beatrix then went on to talk about her baby that was coming. + +Barbara wrote to Bunting. He was to tell her what he thought. She should +not object, she added, to hear Jimmy's view on the subject. Bunting was +to tell Jimmy that she had thought over all he had said to her, and +beyond a slight interest in a man who gave tickets for umbrellas at the +Luxembourg Gallery, which she had subdued, she had behaved exactly as he +would have wished since she had been back in Paris. + +Young George imparted this piece of information first, as he and Jimmy +took a Sunday afternoon walk together. "She did have you on," he said. +"You have to keep your eyes skinned when Barbara begins to pull your +leg." + +"I can't say I care for that sort of thing much myself," said Jimmy. +"Still, you must take people as you find them. If Barbara finds it +amusing to play the fool in that way, I don't much mind. She is growing +up into a very nice sort of girl and one can forgive her a few antics. I +say, George, I shall have Feltham some day, and be fairly well off, I +suppose. I don't suppose your Governor would object, would he, if +anything were to come of it between Barbara and me?" + +"Anything were to come of what?" asked Bunting. + +"Oh, well, I should have thought you could have seen that Barbara is a +good deal more to me than other girls. Of course I chaff her, and treat +her in some ways as a kid, but--" + +"I should have thought that was how she treated you." + +"Well, it's our way of treating each other. I don't suppose she thinks +of me as a kid any more than I do of her. I don't go as far as to say +that she's gone on me, or anything of that sort. She's too young at +present to be gone on anybody, however much she may lark and rot about +it. And I haven't done anything to make her yet. I'm only asking you, +_supposing_ it took me that way, and I was serious about it, I might be +the sort of fellow your Governor wouldn't mind Barbara marrying?" + +"I should think he'd be half off his head with delight," said Young +George. "I say, Jimmy, there's something I want to consult you about. +Barbara has written to me about it, and she says I can." + +"I shall be pleased to give you my advice, George. Her, too, if she +wants it. How did she--er--put it--that she wanted it." + +"Oh, she said: 'I don't mind your telling that little ass, Jimmy, and +see what he thinks,' or something of that sort. She didn't mean anything +by it." + +"Oh, no. I don't mind. It's the way we treat each other. Well, what's +the trouble, old man?" + +Young George told him. + +"Ah," said Jimmy sapiently. "I've been wondering how long it would be +before you tumbled to that. It's the talk of the county." + +"Do you mean that, or is it only swank because you always see +everything--generally before it happens?" + +"My dear chap, I can only tell you your Governor went out for a walk +with her the moment after Caroline had gone away, and fixed it up then. +If you don't believe me, ask him." + +"Oh, that's rot. Caroline was married over two months ago. If he had +fixed it up then we should have known about it by this time." + +"They agreed to keep it to themselves for a bit. You'll hear soon +enough." + +"Did my Governor tell you that, or Ella Carruthers?" + +"There's no need to play the ass, George. Everybody knows it's settled. +Vera mentioned it in the last letter she wrote to me. Mrs. Carruthers +has gone up to London, to be near your Governor. He's working rather +hard at present, and can't be at Abington as much as he was." + +Young George knew that his father was rather tied to the Bank, as two of +his partners were away. Jimmy's knowledge of this fact impressed him. +"Is she keen on him?" he asked. + +"Thinks about nobody else." + +"How can you possibly know that? I wish you'd chuck pretending to be God +Almighty, and just be little Jimmy Beckley. Barbara wants to know what +we think, and what's really happening." + +"Well, she's come to the right quarter then. I haven't said anything +before, because I didn't know you'd tumbled to it. But I do know more +about it than most. There's a cousin of ours who is dead keen on her, +and she won't look at him." + +"Who is he?" + +"He's Sir John Ambleside--on my mother's side of the family. He's in the +Scots Guards, and has just come back from India, where he's been A.D.C. +to some Governor fellow. He hasn't got much money, so of course all our +lot are rather keen on it, as she's supposed to have a good deal. But, +as I say, she won't look at him, because of your Governor." + +"Is he young?" + +"About thirty. Good-looking chap too. It'd be a good match for both of +them. There'd be his title against her money. But there it is. He hasn't +got a chance. I'm not sorry for it myself, as I've an idea of nobbling +him for Vera. She's getting on--twenty-two next birthday, and it's time +she was settled. I'm going to get my people to ask him down at Easter, +when I shall be at home and can look after things. I hope it will all be +settled with your Governor by that time." + +"I don't think Barbara knows it has gone as far as that," said Young +George reflectively. "She only says she thinks it may happen, though +Caroline doesn't. She won't be pleased when I tell her what you've told +me." + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, well, I suppose she wouldn't be. Now Caroline and B are married she +wants to be Number One with the Governor." + +"Poor little girl!" said Jimmy tenderly. "I call that rather touching, +you know, George. We ought to try and make it up to her, if it does +happen--not let her feel herself out of it. I'm sure I'll do all I can +to show her that she's still thought a great deal of." + +"I'm sure you will," said Young George. "But you won't find she'll want +much of you if she can have the Governor." + +"That sort of feeling changes when girls grow up," said Jimmy. "Their +Governors don't stand much of a chance when the right chap comes along. +I will say for your Governor, though, that he knows how to make himself +pleasant to younger people, men as well as girls. There's nobody of his +age I like better to have a yarn with. I'm not a bit surprised at a +woman like Mrs. Carruthers falling in love with him." + +"You think it would be a good thing, then?" + +"A good thing? Of course it would be a good thing. Don't you think so +yourself?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I like her all right. Rather rum to have her as a +sort of mother, though." + +"Nobody thinks anything of that now-a-days. She'd be more like a sort of +sister. I must say _I_ shouldn't mind having her about the place, if it +was me. She's a very fine woman. I spotted her three seasons ago, when +she first began to hunt again after Carruthers died. If I hadn't felt +myself a bit tied up with Kate Pemberton then, I think I might have +tried to make myself pleasant to her. Well, I always have made myself +pleasant to her. I think she likes me all right. If she marries your +Governor we shall be pretty near neighbours." + +"Well, I hope _you_ won't try to cut him out, if he wants to marry her. +I don't quite know what to think about it. I shall tell Barbara that it +would be a good thing." + +"Yes, I should, if I were you. And you can tell her that I'm all in +favour of it, as she has asked what I think." + +"Thanks, I will," said Young George. "That ought to settle her mind, if +anything can. I say, I haven't told you. B's going to have a baby." + +"By Jove!" said Jimmy. "It seems no time since B was almost a kid. Makes +you feel you're getting on, that sort of thing, eh? Poor little girl! I +suppose she's pleased enough about it though, isn't she? They generally +are." + +"Oh, yes, she's pleased enough." + +"Made up her mind it's going to be a boy, of course." + +"Well, she does want it to be a boy. How did you know that?" + +"They always want a boy--so that he shall be like hubby, I suppose. B +had it pretty bad, you know. Nobody could get a word out of her when she +was in love with Dick. That was a good business all round, George. You +and I can congratulate ourselves on that." + +"Why you and I?" + +"Well, you asked my advice about it, didn't you? I told you what I +thought. I suppose we had something to do with bringing it off. I wish +we'd looked after Caroline a bit more. I don't like to think of a girl +like that married to a chap like Bradby. I take your word for it that +he's a good chap in himself, but Caroline is wasted on him all the same. +She might have married anybody." + +"She didn't want to marry anybody. She wanted to marry him, and it has +turned out a great success. You'll say so yourself when you see them +together." + +"Ah, that's all very well at present. It hasn't had time to wear off +yet. It's done now and can't be helped; but you see if she doesn't wish +she'd not done it in a few years' time. There'll be B in her jolly +country house, with all she can want; and Barbara, perhaps--well, I know +a pretty decent country house that she can have by and bye, if she wants +to. And Caroline--well, really, you know, it makes you feel rather sick. +Poor girl! However, I don't altogether blame her for chucking herself +away, if she was in love. I'd do it myself. But I dare say I should live +to be sorry for it, if I married beneath me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +AN ENGAGEMENT + + +Towards the end of June Caroline went to London to stay with Beatrix for +a day or two. Beatrix had summoned her. She depended a good deal on +Caroline now. She had asked Maurice to come, too, but he could not leave +his work. + +The morning after she had arrived Beatrix came into her room with a +letter. Dick had gone off early to his ship. "What _does_ this mean? +Surely it can't be true!" she said. + +The letter was from her father. They were to have dined with him that +evening. He was going off to Spain, on banking business, that day. He +expected to be in Madrid and Barcelona about a week, and on his way back +he should take Barbara to Switzerland for a fortnight or so, and then +bring her home. Beatrix was to tell Caroline, and he would write to them +from abroad. No time for more now, as he was going off in such a hurry. +Then came a postcript. "Have you heard of Ella's engagement? Sir John +Ambleside. He's a nice fellow, and just the right age for her. Write and +congratulate her." + +They stared at one another, utterly surprised. It was four months now +since Caroline had come home, and the idea of a marriage between their +father and Ella had been discussed between them. Since then they had +come to take it quite for granted. Ella had been in London ever since, +except for two week-end visits to Surley, and one to Abington, when +there had been so large a party of relations and friends that it had +seemed as if the occasion would be chosen to make an announcement. That +was a month ago, at Whitsuntide. Neither of them had seen Ella since, +and their father had only once been down to Abington. + +"Sir John Ambleside," said Caroline. "That's the Beckleys' cousin, that +Jimmy told Bunting about. But--" + +"Poor old Daddy. He's running away," said Beatrix. "But how beastly of +her!" + +They tried to adjust their recollections. They had taken it for granted. +Had they had reason, or had they been mistaken all the time? + +"Of course, she's never given a hint," said Caroline. + +"Oh, my dear! You saw how she was with him at Whitsuntide." + +"Not really very different from what she has always been. Perhaps gayer, +and rather more at home. At least we thought so." + +"I'm sure the poor old darling was in love with her. He was as happy as +a king all that time. _I_ know the signs." + +"But nothing happened. Surely, if it had been as we thought they would +have got engaged then, or before." + +"Perhaps he was waiting until he was quite certain, and this has +happened since--her falling in love with that other man. _I_ shan't +congratulate her. I think she has behaved very badly. _Poor_ old Daddy! +It's frightfully rough luck on him." + +"He doesn't want anything said about it, though. I wish he hadn't gone +away alone. I'm glad he's going to take Barbara away when he comes +back." + +"I wish I knew exactly what had happened." + +"Perhaps Aunt Mary will have heard something. We shall see her to-day. +She will certainly have something to say about it." + +They lunched with Lady Grafton, and she had a good deal to say about it. +The announcement of the engagement had appeared in the 'Morning Post' +that morning, and had taken her by surprise, though she would not admit +quite how much it had taken her by surprise. + +"He's been dancing after her," she said; "but nobody thought she would +accept him. You know I blame you two girls more than anybody." + +"Of course you do, darling," said Beatrix. "But we should like to know +why, all the same." + +"You've stuck up your noses at it. Poor dear George, like most men of +his age who are in love, is sensitive to ridicule. He never could bring +himself up to the point of proposing because he was afraid that he'd +look like a fool. That party at the Abbey was the greatest possible +mistake. I said so at the time." + +"Who did you say it to, darling?" asked Beatrix. "You told me that it +was the very thing to bring it on. But I suppose you thought I was in a +delicate state and must be humoured." + +"Yes, it's all very well to treat it like that," said Lady Grafton. "But +if it hadn't been for you it would certainly have been brought to a +point then. They were both ready for it, and Ella Carruthers knew +perfectly well that she had been asked down there to be proposed to. It +was you and Caroline who stopped it, and I'm exceedingly annoyed with +you, though I try not to show it." + +"You don't try very hard, dear," said Caroline. "We expected it, too, +and if we weren't quite ready for it at first we had got quite used to +it by that time." + +"We both showed it, too," said Beatrix. "We were as sweet to Ella as +only we know how to be; and we took a great deal of pains to show +darling Daddy that we were pleased with him. He knew that we knew all +right, and were only waiting." + +"Yes, and how did you show it? By hanging round him the whole time, and +petting him as if you were children, instead of--" + +"Instead of great girls of twenty-one and twenty-two," suggested +Beatrix. "That's how we always have treated him, and always shall." + +"Two married women," proceeded Lady Grafton. + +"And one of them soon to become a mother," added Beatrix. + +"Nobody was ever allowed to forget _that_," retorted Lady Grafton. "It +was crammed down Ella's throat that she would be a step-grandmamma, and +George could never move anywhere without you flopping about him and +calling him 'Daddy darling.' There wasn't much 'Daddy darling' when you +fell fatuously in love, and treated him as if he counted for about as +much as old Jarvis. Then there was Caroline--" + +"Oh, it's my turn now," said Caroline. + +"Yes, you were almost as bad. You've left his house, but you come up +every day to see that his sheets are properly aired, and send out in the +middle of dinner to see whether his hot water bottle is filled." + +"Oh, Aunt Mary!" + +"Well, that's the impression you give everybody. You made him look like +an elderly man, when if you'd let him alone he'd have seemed quite like +a young one. How would you have liked it yourselves, if you'd been in +Ella's place? She's only a year or two older than you. Probably what put +her off was that she was afraid you'd be calling her 'Mummy darling!'" + +"Oh, it was _she_ that was put off!" said Caroline. "You said at first +that it was Dad, because we turned up our noses at it." + +"I've no patience with you," concluded Lady Grafton, ignoring this. + +"No, you don't seem to have much, darling," said Beatrix sweetly. +"You're all wrong though. Caroline and I have been talking it over. We +think that she was almost ready to marry him then. She behaved to us as +if she were. We can't tell you how, but we both felt the same about it. +She wanted to know how we should take it, and we let her know that we +should be pleased. We understood each other perfectly, though not a word +was said directly." + +"I wish _I'd_ said a word, directly. It only wanted that. One is afraid +of interfering, and then one wakes up to find everything has gone +wrong." + +"If only you'd interfered with us all a little more, darling, how much +happier we should have been," said Beatrix. "What Caroline and I think +is that she never could _quite_ make up her mind, and he wouldn't say +anything till he saw that she had." + +"That's how it's supposed to have happened with _you_, isn't it? It +isn't every man who expects the woman he's in love with to fall down and +cuddle his boots." + +"Don't be tart, darling. It doesn't suit you, really, though you think +it does." + +"She found out after all that she wanted somebody younger," said +Caroline. + +"Yes, that's what _you'd_ think. The truth of it is you've both been +scratching each other's backs. 'Of course he'd want what Dick wanted in +you, _darling_,' and 'Of course she'd want somebody more like Maurice, +_dearie_.' To any sensible woman George is worth Dick and Maurice put +together. Well, I don't know what has happened. I think she would have +had him a month ago, if he'd asked her. I've hardly seen her since. At +any rate, it's all over. George won't marry now. This was the only +chance. He wouldn't marry for the sake of marrying, and he wouldn't go +about looking for somebody to fall in love with. You've stopped his +doing either, till it's too late. But with somebody provided for him, so +to speak, who would just suit him, and could make him fall in love with +her into the bargain--it would have been simply ideal. Now the poor man +has got to fly off and forget all about it. Of course he won't forget +all about it for a long time. He'll feel himself old all of a sudden, +and know that he'll have to go on getting older for the rest of his +life. I'm furious about it." + +Caroline and Beatrix went on to see Lady Handsworth. They agreed on the +way there that Aunt Mary was really rather sweet about their father, +though she always tried to be too clever. It _was_ hard lines on the +poor old darling, and they would have to do their best to prevent him +feeling he was getting old. It seemed that he actually had run away. +Uncle James had said that somebody from the Bank was to have been sent +to Spain in a day or two, but that he had suddenly announced his +intention of going himself, immediately. He had said nothing about the +engagement, but he must have known of it when he made his decision, as +he had written to Beatrix that afternoon. + +Lady Handsworth was concerned about the news. "I did hope that she would +have married your father," she said. "But I never felt quite so sure +about it as Mary, and others, have. I think she could never quite make +up her mind. Sir John Ambleside has been rather determined in his +wooing, and I suppose it came to a point where George held back, not +liking to put himself into rivalry with a much younger man." + +"I think that's much the most likely thing to have happened," said +Caroline. "But he did love her, I'm pretty sure, and I'm most awfully +sorry for him." + +"So am I," said Lady Handsworth. "But he will get over it, perhaps +sooner than one might think. A man of his age never lets himself quite +go, unless he's absolutely sure. He knows, for one thing, that life +isn't all made up of love, and if he has had a blow he can look forward +to the time when he will have left off feeling it. Besides, your father +hasn't lost the love that he has always had, and that has been enough +for him hitherto." + +This was more consoling than Lady Grafton's statement that it was all +their fault. Of course he hadn't lost their love; it was stronger than +ever, because he would depend upon them more than if Ella had gone to +him to fill their place. + +"I'm afraid I _was_ rather selfish when I found out how much I loved +Dick," Beatrix said, when they had left Lady Handsworth. "Dick says I +was, himself, and that if I had made a little more fuss with Daddy he +wouldn't have wanted to go off loving somebody else. I loved him just +the same, but I suppose I didn't think enough that he'd want me to show +it. Still, _you_ haven't been like that. You're more thoughtful than I +am, dearest. I don't think it would have made much difference. I think +Aunt Mary was right there. It was Ella making up to him that led him +on--even if she didn't mean to lead him on so far." + +"I shall write to her," said Caroline. "He asks us to. He won't want us +not to be friends; and I suppose she will still be living at Surley +sometimes." + +Both of them wrote. Ella's answers were affectionate, but it seemed to +them a little shame-faced. She said very little to them about the man +she was going to marry, though it would have been natural for her to +expatiate upon him to such intimate friends. Her only reference to +Grafton was in her letter to Caroline, in which she said: "I told dear +Mr. Grafton before anybody, and he was so sweet about it, and has +promised me a very handsome wedding present." + +Caroline had a letter from Barbara after she went home. Barbara was in a +heaven of delight. She had seen her father on his way through Paris, and +was preparing to go off with him on his way back. + +"How silly I was to bother myself and all of you about Ella," she wrote. +"Dad told me she was going to be married to that little ass Jimmy's +cousin. Dad was quite pleased about it. He was awfully sweet to me, and +says he is longing to have me at home to look after him. It will be +spiffing fun going to Switzerland together. The darling old thing wants +a holiday. He says he's been working rather hard at the Bank, and he +certainly looks rather run down. I shall take the utmost possible care +of him. He bought me a hat in the Rue de la Paix. Ser-wish!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +BARBARA + + +Barbara and her father left Paris one evening and arrived at Montreux +the next morning. In the afternoon they climbed up by the electric train +to Chateau d'Oex, where they had spent a happy fortnight five winters +before, skating and ski-ing and lugeing. Barbara had been given the +choice of a place to go to, and had chosen this. She wanted to see the +mountain pastures, which they had known only under snow, in their early +summer dress. Grafton did not want to travel about. They were to stay +wherever they went to, and perhaps visit a few other places on their +homeward way. + +The next day Barbara wrote to Caroline. + +"Here we are, in the same old rooms, with the same jolly old view, but +you've no idea of the difference. There is still snow on the Gummfluh +and the Ruebli, but only in the clefts and hollows, and all the rest is +the most lovely pinks and purples and yellows and heavenly green. All +the fields are simply full of flowers, growing with the hay. They say +that a month ago they were white with narcissus, but they couldn't have +been more beautiful than they are now, with all their colours. Dad and I +had a walk this morning across the valley to where we used to ski. It +was like walking through a garden, and the river looks topping, all free +of ice, and flowing between the rocks and firs. The cows are feeding +half-way up the Cray, and those that are still down here all have great +cow-bells. You hear them booming and tinkling all the time. We are going +to have a lot of walks, and go up to the chalets where they make the +cheeses. The rink is now a tennis court, but the people who play there +don't look very interesting and Dad hasn't brought any things so I don't +think we shall launch ourselves among them. There aren't many people in +the hotel yet--very different from what it was when we were here. But we +like it, and are going to be thoroughly lazy, and loll about with books, +except when we go for walks. + +"Now I've got Dad all to myself, of course I can _see_. I was a fool to +write what I did from Paris. The poor old darling had made up his mind +to keep it all to himself, and had screwed himself to be extra merry and +bright with me, so that I shouldn't twig anything. He did take me in, +but I only saw him for a few hours. Of course he can't really hide it, +though he thinks he's doing it beautifully, poor lamb! I do believe I'm +the proper person to be with him, Cara dear. Perhaps you would do it +better, but you can't be here, so I hope you'll be glad that I am, and +not think that I only want to enjoy myself, though I am doing that, and +it is lovely to be here, and with Dad. It's rather pathetic how he likes +to be always with me, and I _know_ he is glad that he brought me here. +When we were reading on the balcony this afternoon, I could see he +wasn't reading much, but every now and then he looked at me, and once +he said how jolly it was that we were here, and were going home +together. So I'm a sort of comfort to him, which I'm frightfully glad +of, and is just what I want to be. I'm not sure I shan't try to get him +to say something later on. After all, everybody knows. I hate her for +treating him like that, though of course I'm glad in a way. It shows +what she would have been like. She must have made him think that she +loved him, and of course he is bowled over. I heard him walking up and +down the balcony last night. When he came into my room this morning he +said that he had got up to see the sun rise, but it was quite dark when +I heard him. After he had had his _petit dejeuner_ he went back to bed +and slept till ten nearly, which is a good thing. + +"But you mustn't think he is moping. It isn't like that at all. He is +very cheerful and amusing generally, and we are having a lovely time. +I've only told you what I have seen behind it. I'm sure he just wants to +forget all about it, and I'm going to help him the very best way I can. +I do love him. I shan't marry at all, but shall live at home and look +after him. Of course I don't blame you for marrying, darling, as you had +to. But I've thought it over and I don't care about it for myself." + +Barbara also wrote to Bunting--a not too indulgent description of the +people staying in the hotel, with references to the changed aspect of +the country, and to some places that he knew. + +"Dad is enjoying his holiday," she wrote, "and looks better already. He +was rather run down, but he is picking up in this jolly air, and getting +very active. He makes me laugh all the time, he is so pleased with +everything. I was rather a fool to write to you what I did from Paris. I +suppose I was bored at not being at home, and got ideas into my head. +But when you told me what that little ass Jimmy said, I didn't worry any +more. I knew that I was safe in believing the opposite. Dad is very +pleased at Ella's engagement to Sir John Ambleside, as of course he is +very fond of her, as she has been almost like one of us to him, and was +nice to him when all of us were away. She has been in love with Sir John +for months, but couldn't quite make up her mind to marry him when she +found out he was Jimmy's cousin. However, that seems to be his only +drawback, and when Jimmy grows up he _may_ improve. There's always +hope." + +Grafton's letters were short, but fairly frequent. There was no further +mention of Ella in them, but there was a good deal about Barbara. + +"Barbara is a delightful companion," he wrote, some days after they had +gone to Chateau d'Oex. "I've never had her to myself so much before. We +never bore one another, and we talk about all things under the sun. +She's a dear child, and has developed extraordinarily. There's a lot in +that investigating mind of hers, and it's all beginning to come out. It +was a good thing to send her to Paris, though I'm glad enough that the +time is over, and I shall have her at home now. She says she is going to +stay with me for years and years. But I doubt if I shall keep the sort +of young woman she's growing into for more than two or three at the +outside. However, they will be happy ones, and there's no reason why the +happiness should end when she does get married, bless her!" + +One morning they set out very early to walk to the coombe of the Vanil +Noir. Grafton carried a ruecksack with their lunch, and they walked +slowly, as they had learnt to do with a long day's expedition before +them. The air was deliriously fresh and fragrant, and the sun had not +yet become hot. + +They crossed pasture after pasture deep in flowers, and as they slowly +mounted, the great panorama shifted and changed; distant snowpeaks +lifted themselves into view, and became new mountain ranges; the +windings of their own valley were displayed, and little towns and +villages on its green floor looked like scattered children's buildings. + +They came to the wide solemn coombe, and went up it to the foot of the +mountain. The snow lingered here, sometimes in deep drifts, among the +rocks, but almost every foot of ground that had shaken off its winter +covering was jewelled with Alpine flowers. It was another world they had +come to, above the trees and the coarser growths, with a sense of +freedom and space and bigness about it that was lacking in the lower +valleys. The silence was broken only by the tinkle of the rivulets and +the occasional shrill chatter of a _marmotte_, which they could +sometimes descry sitting alert on a distant rock. + +They ate their lunch of sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, chocolate, Gruyere +cheese, and oranges, with a bottle of Valais wine, and agreed that they +had never enjoyed a lunch more. Then they sat with their backs against a +rock, while Grafton smoked, and a deep peace and contentment settled +down upon them. + +"Isn't it perfect?" said Barbara, after a time. "I feel that this is the +best that life has to offer, Dad. I wonder how much of that feeling is +due to being rested and fed, after having been rather tired and rather +hungry." + +"I should think about half," he said. + +"That only leaves half for the scenery, and the lovely air and the +sunshine, and _not_ being in Paris, and being with you, and looking +forward to going home as the next thing. It isn't enough." + +"And it leaves nothing at all for being young, and having nothing on +your mind; nothing at all to worry yourself about. That's the great +advantage of being young, which you never realise till you're no longer +young. When something good comes along, like this, you can enjoy it to +the full." + +"You've got nothing to worry you now, have you, Dad?" she asked, after a +pause. + +"No, darling," he said, after another. "The way is pretty clear ahead +now. Lots of jolly things to be done and some quite nice people to take +an interest in. You and I will be able to do some of the nice things +together, won't we?" + +"It will be lovely," she said. "We're doing one of the nice things now. +It was rather a good move, our coming here together, wasn't it, Dad?" + +"Yes, a first-class move. Do you ever read Wordsworth, Barbara?" + +"Not more than I'm obliged, darling. I've read about the tiresome child +who couldn't count, and he nagged at her." + +"I don't mean that sort of Wordsworth. Mother loved him. She read me +things when we were on our honeymoon, going to beautiful places +together." + +"Then I should like to read him. What sort of things?" + +"He makes you see how beautiful Nature is: I can't explain it exactly, +but if you take it right it has a sort of soothing uplifting influence +on you." + +"Yes, I've felt that sometimes, especially since we went to live at +Abington. But--perhaps it's because I'm too young--I don't think you can +enjoy it so much alone." + +He looked at her in some surprise. "Have you found that out already?" he +said. "I found it out after Mother died. I was frightfully unhappy. I +went away by myself to some of the places we'd been to together. But it +made me unhappier still. In fact, it spoilt the memory of those places +for me till I went there again years afterwards, with Cara and B. Then I +got back my first impression of them." + +She snuggled up to him. "Take me to them, sometime, Daddy," she said. + +"Yes, I will, darling. You were too young then. I think perhaps we +might go this autumn. It was in September that she and I were married. +How happy we were! She had planned out where we were to go to. Mostly +out-of-the-way beautiful places. I suppose I had been too busy amusing +myself, with other people, to want to go to places simply because they +were beautiful, before. But she taught me to love the beauty of Nature, +though for a time after she died it did nothing for me." + +"Perhaps it doesn't when you're unhappy and alone. Do you think Caroline +loves it in the same way as Mother did, Daddy?" + +He thought for a moment. "She gets it from her, I suppose," he said. +"Perhaps she has it even more strongly. She's going to make it the chief +thing in her life, you know, she and Maurice together. And one doesn't +feel that she is wrong in doing it." + +"Of course, she has tried the other," she said, after a pause. + +He smiled at her. "Are you thinking that it wouldn't be enough for you?" +he asked. "I don't think it would, darling; it wouldn't have been enough +for Mother and me--a refreshment--perhaps the best sort of refreshment, +while we were young, and something to come to more and more if we had +grown old together. At any rate, you'll have your taste of pleasure, as +Cara and B had it, and you'll be right to enjoy it, as they did. It did +neither of them any harm and it won't do you any harm." + +"Why should it do anybody harm, Dad?" + +"Oh, well--if pleasure were put in the first place, for the whole of a +lifetime! That's what you see all round you, among people of our sort. +It would have been more of a danger for B than for Caroline. But B is +all right now. She'll make a good loving wife and mother. She'll have a +good time, but she won't put having a good time first." + +"I should like you to expound that for me a little, Daddy; for my good, +you know." + +"Well, I don't know that I'm the best person to expound it to you, +except perhaps that I've done it a bit too much myself. You see when you +have enough money to do pretty well what you like, you do rather get +into the way of gratifying yourself at every turn--or trying to. Even +the good things in life--love is the best of them all--you're apt to +think more of yourself than of other people--even of the very people you +love." + +She thought this might be the beginning of a confidence, and listened +eagerly for more. + +"I'm not sure that the best thing for a man isn't to have something +stiff to do," he went on. "I never have had. I've been too lucky." + +"You've made all of us happy, darling." + +"Well, that's something, isn't it, if I have? You've all made me happy +too. Best not to be always looking out for happiness for yourself--much +less pleasure. Some clever fellow said once that happiness only came +when you weren't looking for it." + +"I think the best thing is to do what you can to make other people +happy. I don't mean in a priggish sort of way--setting yourself out to +do it--but because you love them and it comes natural to you to want +to." + +"I believe you've hit upon the whole duty of women, darling. It's what +they are here for. A selfish woman always seems more off the lines than +a selfish man. But selfishness is ugly everywhere. You can't always see +it in yourself, but when you do you had better get rid of it as quickly +as possible." + +"You're not selfish." + +"Most men are. I don't think I'm much different from other fellows. But +I like you to think I am." + +"You know, Daddy, I've been thinking lately that it's rather like what +you said just now--you mustn't grab at things, and it may not be +altogether good for you to be able to get everything you want. By far +the nicest of the girls you sent me to Paris to consort with is Nora +O'Brien, whom I told you about. Her people are very hard up, and one of +her aunts is educating her. The others are all rich--at least their +people are--and the richest are the horridest, except Katie Brown, whose +father is a millionaire; and she laughs at it, and would be just as +happy if he were poor. I think _we_ are all so nice because we really +love each other, and that's the best of all the things we have at home; +though it's very jolly having a beautiful house and lots of friends +too." + +"Yes, it's love that makes the world go round, wherever you find it. It +gives you a reason for enjoying yourself too. At least it does when +you've a young woman of nearly eighteen, soon to be launched on the +world. I hope you'll enjoy yourself, darling, when it comes to the time +for you to go out and about." + +"I shall like best being at home with you, Daddy." + +"Well, you'll be at home a lot too, I hope. But you must have your +fling, and see what the world is like all round." + +"I think I shall like it, you know. Caroline did, though she got tired +of it afterwards." + +"I don't think it was so much that she got tired of it as that she found +something else she liked better to put in its place. Oh, I'm happy about +Caroline and B both. And about you too, darling. And about Bunting, who +is growing into a very good sort of man. In fact I've nothing to grouse +about at all, except that I can't have the last five and twenty years +all over again. Now I think it's time to be getting down to our happy +valley." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Graftons, by Archibald Marshall + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAFTONS *** + +***** This file should be named 39587.txt or 39587.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/8/39587/ + +Produced by Annie R. McGuire. 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