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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>THE GARDEN OF MEMORIES</title> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-05-29" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Garden of Memories" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Henry St. John Cooper" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1921" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Garden of Memories" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="49074" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.title" content="The Garden of Memories" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.source" content="/home/ajhaines/garden/garden.rst" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.language" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" content="en" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.modified" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" content="2015-05-29T15:49:36.301327+00:00" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.publisher" content="Project Gutenberg" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.rights" content="Public Domain in the USA." /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49074" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.creator" content="Henry St. John Cooper" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.created" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" content="2015-05-29" /> -<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-garden-of-memories"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE GARDEN OF MEMORIES</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Garden of Memories -<br /> -<br />Author: Henry St. John Cooper -<br /> -<br />Release Date: May 29, 2015 [EBook #49074] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE GARDEN OF MEMORIES</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">THE GARDEN OF -<br />MEMORIES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">HENRY ST. JOHN COOPER</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "SUNNY DUCROW," "JAMES BEVANWOOD, -<br />BARONET," ETC.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TORONTO -<br />THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY -<br />LIMITED</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT, CANADA, 1921.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">MUSSON -<br />ALL CANADIAN PRODUCTION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="reference internal" href="#prologue">PROLOGUE</a></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-garden-of-dreams">In the Garden of Dreams</a><span> -<br />II </span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-marriage-has-been-arranged">A Marriage Has Been Arranged</a><span> -<br />III </span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-desirable-family-mansion">A Desirable Family Mansion</a><span> -<br />IV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#how-allan-came-to-the-garden">How Allan Came to the Garden</a><span> -<br />V </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-allan-buys-the-manor-house">In Which Allan Buys the Manor House</a><span> -<br />VI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#i-hate-himhate-him-i-du">"I Hate Him—Hate Him I Du!"</a><span> -<br />VII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#how-wonderfulthe-way-of-things">"How Wonderful—the Way of Things"</a><span> -<br />VIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#kathleendo-you-remember">"Kathleen—Do You Remember?"</a><span> -<br />IX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#how-sir-josiah-opened-his-purse">How Sir Josiah Opened His Purse</a><span> -<br />X </span><a class="reference internal" href="#confidences">Confidences</a><span> -<br />XI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-sir-josiah-proves-himself-a-gentleman">In Which Sir Josiah Proves Himself a Gentleman</a><span> -<br />XII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-hands-of-abram-lestwick">The Hands of Abram Lestwick</a><span> -<br />XIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-homecoming">The Homecoming</a><span> -<br />XIV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#his-son-s-wife">"His Son's Wife"</a><span> -<br />XV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#will-you-take-this-man">"Will You Take This Man?"</a><span> -<br />XVI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#my-lady-merciful">"My Lady Merciful"</a><span> -<br />XVII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#harold-scarsdale-returns">Harold Scarsdale Returns</a><span> -<br />XVIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-dawn">In the Dawn</a><span> -<br />XIX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-dream-maiden">The Dream Maiden</a><span> -<br />XX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-road-to-homewood">The Road to Homewood</a><span> -<br />XXI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#after-ten-years">After Ten Years</a><span> -<br />XXII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#mr-coombe-wears-a-white-tie">Mr. Coombe Wears a White Tie</a><span> -<br />XXIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#i-belong-to-thee">"I Belong to Thee"</a><span> -<br />XXIV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-which-lord-gowerhurst-rises-early">In Which Lord Gowerhurst Rises Early</a><span> -<br />XXV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#beside-the-lake">Beside the Lake</a><span> -<br />XXVI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#on-other-shoulders">On Other Shoulders</a><span> -<br />XXVII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-conqueror">The Conqueror</a><span> -<br />XXVIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-watcher">The Watcher</a><span> -<br />XXIX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#why-abram-lestwick-stayed-from-church">Why Abram Lestwick Stayed from Church</a><span> -<br />XXX </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-religion-of-sir-josiah">The Religion of Sir Josiah</a><span> -<br />XXXI </span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-very-worthy-man">"A Very Worthy Man"</a><span> -<br />XXXII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-awakening">The Awakening</a><span> -<br />XXXIII </span><a class="reference internal" href="#by-the-lake">By the Lake</a><span> -<br />XXXIV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-going-of-betty">The Going of Betty</a><span> -<br />XXXV </span><a class="reference internal" href="#i-shall-return">"I Shall Return"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="prologue"><span class="bold x-large">THE GARDEN OF -<br />MEMORIES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">PROLOGUE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From the house a broad white stone path runs to the -very heart of the garden and there opens out into a -wide circle in the middle of which is set a sundial, and here -too are placed some great benches of the same white stone; -where, when the heat of the sun is not too great, it is -pleasant enough to sit and watch the glory of the flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They are wealthy folk, the Elmacotts, and they love their -garden and pride themselves on it and hold that in all -Sussex no soil can produce finer flowers and sweeter fruit, and -though in this year of grace seventeen hundred and three -the house, which is the Manor House of the Parish of Homewood, -has no great antiquity, being scarce more than sixty -years old, it has about it that completeness, those niceties of -detail, the neatness and the order and the well being that -are found only in the home which is ruled by a house-proud -mistress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Madame Elmacott is proud of her house, proud of her -garden, proud of the flowers that grow in it and above all -proud of her stalwart sons, Master Nat and Master Dick, -who are at this time with his Grace of Marlborough in -Flanders, fighting their country's battles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-day the sun shines on the garden and the flowers -stir gently, swaying in the light breeze that also lifts the -white dimity at the open windows of the house, whence comes -the sweet tinkling of a spinet, the keys of which are touched -by the skilled white fingers of Mistress Phyllis Elmacott.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tall hollyhocks that cast wavering blue shadows on -the white stone pathway nod to one another in the breeze, -nod, it seems, knowingly, for from the pathway one may -see into the pleasant room where the spinet and its fair -player are and seeing these may also see the handsome figure -of the Captain, who leans upon the spinet, the better to see -into those bright eyes that have brought him home to -England and Sussex from across the seas, though at this time -in the service of his Grace the Captain General there is -much to be done and much to be won.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He has but waited to see and share in the victory of -Donauwort and then has come hastening home on the wings -of love and with the merry peal of marriage bells a-ringing -in his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it is not of these, not of the dashing Captain in his -red coat and fair-haired Mistress Elmacott, who thinks -him the most perfect and wonderful, as well as the -bravest and handsomest of all created beings. It is of the -garden and of a lad who sits on the grassy bank at the edge -of the lake and watches with eyes, that yet seem scarcely to -see, the slim white figure of a maiden wrought of stone. -She stands up from the green waters, in the center of the -lake and on her sun-kissed shoulder she holds a pitcher, from -which the glittering water is flung aloft into, the air to fall -with a pleasant tinkling, back into the green pool beneath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so silent, so motionless does he sit here, that the -swallows that now and again skim the water, the dragon flies -in all the glory of their green and crimson, and blue sheen that -dart hither and thither take no heed of him, no more heed -than if he too were of senseless stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In all the colour, in all the glory of the garden, he is the -sombre, the one sombre note. His clothes are drab, his shoes -are stout and thick and ungainly and clasped with great brass -buckles. His hands are the hands of a man who toils for his -living, rough and hardened by spade and hoe and rake and -scythe, and stained by the good earth of the garden. His eyes -that stare so unceasingly on that white stone figure are blue, -his face is lean and tanned, his neck too is tanned deeply to -the very shoulders where the coarse shirt falls open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Straight and strong and courageous he is. Has he not -listened with bated breath and with quick beating heart to the -brave stories told in the bar parlour of the "Fighting Cocks" -in Stretton. Cross? Has he not watched the Serjeant who -has told these thrilling tales, of every one of which, who -should be the hero but the Serjeant himself, in his fine red -coat and his crossed belts and his tall hat, that makes him, -fine man that he is, seem almost a giant?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He has done well here in Stretton and Homewood and at -Bush Corner and in all those other quiet places, has the -Serjeant. There are at least a score of fine young Sussex -lads, even at this very moment on their way to Harwich, -en route for Flanders and glory, who have been wheedled -from field and wood and garden and alehouse and stable -by the Serjeant's persuasive tongue, his jolly laugh and his -generous hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Allan Pringle, sitting here by the green pool, clasping -his strong brown chin with his hands, knows that he too -would have been of that score, but for one reason—one -reason that now, alas, is no more!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is the first grief he has ever known and it is a bitter -one, for what more bitter sorrow can youth feel than for -wasted hopes, for broken faith, for misplaced love?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only Betty and his love for her, only the happiness that -she had promised should one day be his, had deafened him -to the persuasive eloquence of the Serjeant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it is not too late now, others will hearken to the -Serjeant and set off for Harwich and he will be among the -next. Yes, he will be among the next to go, and pray God -that he may never return!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He does not hear a light step on the long stone pathway, -for it is scarce heavier than a bird might make. From the -house a little maid comes hurrying. Now she stands -hesitatingly and looks about her, her finger on her lips, as one -a little fearful, a little anxious. Again and yet again, she -pauses, as she looks about her, then comes to where beyond -the great hedge of clipped yew trees the green waters of -the pool reflect the golden, sunshine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now she sees him and stands watching, a tender smile -on her lips. A dainty slip of a maiden is she, with hair -that gleams gold under her cap, the soft rounded arms are -bare to the dimpled elbows, save for the thin black lace -mittens, through which her white skin shines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though he, the silent, solitary figure sitting beside the -pool is but ten paces from her, yet she hesitates, half a -score of times, making a timorous step and then pausing -before the next, her blue eyes filled, now with mischief and -love and now clouded by some fear. And then suddenly she -makes a brave little run to him and drops lightly on her knees -behind him and lifts her hands and clasps them over his -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you—you would leave your Betty? Oh, Allan, -you would leave your Betty who loves you and go away to -the cruel wars?" she sobs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He has taken her hands, has taken them strongly in his -hold and holding them yet, he turns to her. "Why did you -come, why did you come to me, Betty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because," and the blue eyes are lifted to his filled with -an innocence and candour that even he, jealous and despairing -though he is, cannot but recognise, "because I do love thee -so and cannot let thee go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why, loving me, Betty, do you suffer the kisses -of such a man as Timothy Burnand, a rascally tinker and a -thieving poacher, a man whose hand I would not have touch -thee, Betty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Into her face there flames a great flush, a look of anger, -then it dies out and the laughter comes rippling to her lips -and into her eyes come back the mischief and the love and -a little pride too, for she realises that he is jealous of her, -this man she loves and though jealousy be a sin, yet it is -not without its sweetness, too, for say what the wiseacres -may, jealously is oftentimes a proof of love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you saw—" she cries, "Allan, you—saw—ugh!" She -makes a little gesture, a little grimace. "Did you think -that I invited, that I welcomed him? Did you think that -I bore his kiss with patience? Go and seek him now and -look for the red mark upon his face! He came on me -unawares and then all suddenly—" she pauses. "Allan," she -says pleadingly, "Allan, you will not go, you will not go, -my dear, you will not go and leave me?" And sobbing she -is in his arms. And so for Allan Pringle the sun shines out -again and the flowers are blooming brightly and the little -slim maiden of stone from the centre of the pool seems to -throw the glittering water higher and yet higher into the -air as though in joy that all is well between these two, who -hold one another so tightly, who are mingling their tears -and their laughter and their kisses, now that the cloud has -passed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There are no flowers in the garden now, for the garden -of Homewood Manor and all the world beside lies under -a pall of white, for the winter is here, the winter of -seventeen hundred and five, which is remembered by all men as -a winter of bitter cold, of great frosts and heavy snows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a tiny cottage that stands a bare quarter of a mile -on the Stretton Road from the Homewood gates, a man is -on his knees beside a bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that bed holds all his world, all that the world can -give him, all that makes life sweet, and his heart is black -and bitter with suffering and despair and cries out against -God that he, who was rich only in her and in her love, must -lose her now, must spend the rest of his days solitary, and -heartbroken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes are on the sweet white face, on those lips once -so red and now so pale, but which even yet have a smile for -him, a smile of wonderful tenderness and undying love. -He takes no heed of the fretful cry that comes from the -cradle, for there is no other in all his world now, but her, -she who is so soon to leave him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, my Betty, I cannot let thee go! Oh, remember, -Betty, once when I would have left thee, you called me back -and I came. I am calling, calling to you now, my life, my -sweet, I cannot let you go! Stay with me, stay with me, -for you are all my life and the world is black without you; -stay with me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would lift her thin little hand to caress, to touch his -face, but the strength is not hers to do it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, take me, hold me in your arms, hold me tightly, -my dear, hold me tightly," she says.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he puts his strong arms about her. God pity him, -how light she is, how small, how fragile a thing this, that -death is taking from him!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His very soul is in rebellion against fate, he is mad with -the suffering, mad with his impotence. He can do nothing -save watch her die, watch her fade out of his life; and it -must be soon "A matter of hours," the doctor from Stretton -had said and that was long ago and now, now it is but a -matter of minutes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, I wanted, always, to die like this, with your arms -about me, your dear eyes the last of earth that I shall -see—ah! Allan, it is now——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, Betty, I am calling, calling to you, come back, -beloved, come back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he knows that it is useless, she is leaving him, -slipping away, no matter how tightly he may hold her. It -is good-bye, their last good-bye and the sad word comes -perhaps unconsciously to his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, is it fancy? Is it some trick of his tortured -brain? For as he watches, the dear lips move and it seems -to him that the message they whisper to him with her dying -breath is this: "It is not good-bye!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He is holding her against his breast, he is kissing those -lips that for the first time give not back kiss for kiss. He -is calling to her from his aching, breaking heart, but she -has passed beyond the sound of his voice, though the smile -on her dead lips is still for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And those last words, were they real? Did they pass -her lips with her dying breath, were they meant for him in -pity and compassion and love?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not good-bye!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-garden-of-dreams"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN THE GARDEN OF DREAMS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A girl, a slip of a maid with sunny hair and wonderful -blue eyes, stood beside a crumbling old rose-red brick -wall. She looked up the long country road and she looked -down it, there was no one, not a soul in sight. So she thrust -the too of one small and broken boot into a crevice of the -wall, made a little spring and caught at the top, then dragged -herself up till she sat, flushed and triumphant, on the coping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a village girl and her dress was of print, well -washed, well mended, skimpy, too, for her slight figure, -slender though it was, for it had been hers for three years, -and a dress that is originally made for a maiden of fourteen -is apt to be small when worn by a maid of seventeen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a demure and a very sweet face, the eyes big and -strangely dreamy, the white skin of her face and neck -powdered lightly with tiny golden freckles, her hair a deep -red gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And wonderful hair it was, wonderfully untidy, too, so -rebellious that it spurned all hairpins and fretted and -struggled agains ribbons and tapes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So now, she sat on top of the old rose red wall and looked -down on the other side and saw a green tangle of brambles -and grass and other things that grew rankly and luxuriously -in that deserted place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was easier to descend the wall than to climb it, for -here was a friendly tree that held out an inviting branch. -Sho seized it, with small brown hands and lightly swung -herself to the ground and then drew a sigh of relief and -pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was forbidden ground! Were there not many notices -that announced the fact that "Trespassers Would Be -Prosecuted"? But she cared nothing for these, the notice that -she dreaded most of all was "This Desirable Historical -Family Mansion, with Seven Hundred and Fifty Acres of Land, -to be Sold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How she dreaded lest one day someone should come and -see and covet this place and buy it and so shut her out -forever from its delights and its pleasures. But that someone -had not come yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she made her way through the tangle of the growth, -and came presently to a great garden, a wonderful garden -once, but now a weed-grown place of desolation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Always this garden attracted her; to-day it brought a -soft, tender light into her eyes as she stood with clasped -hands and looked at it! She could see the old broken -stone-paved pathway that led through the heart of the garden. -She knew where that stone pathway opened out into a great -circle in the midst of which was set a sundial, a sundial of -stone chipped and green and the gnomon of the dial rusted -away so that never again should its shadow fall upon the -dial and mark the passing of the brighter hours. And about -this circle, she knew, were old stone seats, green now like -the pedestal of the dial and through the crevices of the -paving grew and flourished and blossomed foxglove and -dandelion, hollyhock and groundsell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been a very, very beautiful garden long years ago, -when ladies had tapped up and down the stone pathway -in their little red-heeled shoes. Ladies who wore wide -flounced skirts and powdered hair and cunning little patches -on their fair cheeks. The garden with its roses, with its -stately hollyhocks, its cloves and sweet-williams, its -rosemary and lavender and all the sweet things that grow in -English gardens, must have been a very lovely and perfect -place then. But to this little maid with the dreamy eyes, -it was a very wonderful place now. There was no other -place like it in all the world; she had come here by -sunshine and by moonlight, for sometimes in the night the -garden had seemed to call to her and she had risen from -her bed under the thatched roof of her old grandmother's -cottage and had come stealing here to watch it, all bathed -in the silver light of the moon. Perhaps she loved it best by -moonlight, for then strange dreams seemed to come to her, -dreams that never came when the sun was shining.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed as if some kindly gentle hand touched lightly -on the chords of memory, and then—the weeds and the -tall rank grass, the decay of the present, the rioting growth, -all were gone and she saw the old garden as it had once been, -and she saw folk, strangely dressed folk, whom never in her -life could she have met. These came and went, men with -strange affected antics and gestures, gestures she might have -smiled at, yet never did, and sweet, gracious ladies who -moved with stately dignity through the old garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But always there was one, a young man whose clothes -were plain and lacking all the finery that made the others -seem so grand. She knew him for a servant, for one who -worked in the garden, for often she would see him stooping -over some trim bed, or with keen scythe sweeping the short -grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were dreams, only dreams that the old garden seemed -to bring to her, when she came when the world was sleeping. -Dreams, and yet she seemed to be so curiously awake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she never spoke of the old garden to the others, or told -of the things that she saw here. Yet they knew she came, -her grandmother rated her, "One day, my maid, caught -ee'll be," she said, "and then summoned very likely for -trespassing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Law had no terrors for her, so she came whenever -the garden seemed to be calling to her and the high rank -grass brushed her thin cotton skirt and wetted the coarse -stocking that clad her slim ankle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For an hour she wandered about the garden, she stood -by the sundial and watched the line of the path-way, sadly -encroached on now by the weeds and the self-seeded flowers. -A tall yew hedge, once clipped into fantastic shapes, but -now reclaimed by Nature, shut out what had once been the -rose garden, all weed grown now and the roses gone. And -beyond the rose garden, the lake in which the great carp -swam lazily and over which the birds skimmed! From the -lake's centre rose a figure in stone, sadly battered and marred, -the figure of a slim girl, a girl that might have been, -herself, changed into stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She often came to look at this figure rising from the centre -of the lake. It held a vase poised on its shoulder, once a -fountain had been flung high into the air from this vase, but -the fountain had been dead long ago. To-day a rook sat -perched on one stone shoulder, but flew away when the living -girl came down to the brink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had a feeling for this stone maiden, all so lonely in -the midst of the desolation. She never came into the garden -without coming to the edge of the lake and nodding her little -head to the figure who never nodded back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, for an hour she wandered about the garden. She -picked none of the flowers that grew so freely here, for she -would not dare take them back, mute tale tellers that they -would be. So, empty handed as she came, she presently made -her way back to the old wall and seeing that no one was -in sight, gained the road and went on to the cottage in the -village.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her grandmother was leaning over the gate, an old woman -with the face of a russet apple that has been kept till it has -wrinkled and mellowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So there you be, Betty Hanson, and seeing the way -you hev come it be useless and idle it be, for me to ask you -where hev you been tu!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl did not answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've been in that garden again, spite o' all I du say. -Betty Hanson, it hev got to cease, my maid, and cease it -will now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" the girl said and there was a frightened look in -her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why? for I hev been talking to Mr. Dalabey and he -du tell me that there be several parties after the old house, -and one rich American he very likely to buy it and if he -du, then there be an end to all your philanderings in that -there disgraceful old garden, my maid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Buy it! Buy it!" She looked at her grandmother and -in the blue eyes there was a look of actual fear. "'Ee don't -mean as—as anyone be going to buy—buy it?" She -whispered, "'ee be only saying it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rich American!" The old woman nodded her head, -"and going to buy it, he be, and a dratted good job, too!" -she added. "Look at your frock now, what a sight it be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she did not look at her frock, her face had gone very -pitifully white. She lifted her little brown hands and laid -them against her breast and went into the cottage with -tragedy and misery in her blue eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a dratted good job, too," the old woman said again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-marriage-has-been-arranged"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"My dear child, if I were to say that we had arrived -at our last shilling, such a statement would not be -quite true, for we had reached that unpleasant position some -months ago, and I fear that it is on other people's shillings -that we are existing at the present moment. Not only is our -financial position unsatisfactory, to say the least of it, but, -and forgive me for speaking of it, Kathleen, the years are -passing and five years ago—well, dear one, you were five -years younger than you are to-day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, if you think that you can goad me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never goad, it would be too fatiguing! Besides, -Kathleen, as my daughter and a Stanwys, you are not a -fool—the Stanwys——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, please do not tell me about the Stanwys, father," she -said bitterly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you rather that I spoke about the Homewoods? -There is the father, Sir Josiah——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Common and vulgar!" the girl said with a note of -contempt in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the son—he at least is presentable, have we not -agreed that the son is not so bad, and the position——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know of the position; do you think I can forget it for -even a moment?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rose and went to the window and stared out into the -dull London Square.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was twenty-eight. It is not a great age, yet at -twenty-eight the first sweet freshness -of youth is on the wane—a -woman of twenty-eight realises that she is no longer a girl, -her girlhood is behind her. Sometimes she is terribly -conscious of it. It is a little tragedy to be eight and twenty, -unmarried and unsought. Kathleen Stanwys at twenty-eight -was unmarried, nor was she engaged. Society was a little -puzzled by the fact, for she was unusually and exceedingly -handsome. She had been a very lovely girl and she was now -a radiantly beautiful woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seven years ago she had outshone all rival beauties in the -great world of Fashion, but she had made no bid for -popularity. She shrank from anything of the nature of -publicity and cheap advertisement; rarely if ever had her -photograph appeared in the press. She wrapped herself in a -mantle of reserve. Ever conscious of the poverty which she -was never permitted to forget she had earned the reputation -of being cold and haughty and proud. Admirers she had -never lacked, but suitors had been few and shy! Young -men, well provided with money, had a wholesome fear of -Lord Gowerhurst, her father, for he was a very finished -specimen of his type.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Smooth tongued, with a charming and plausible manner, -cynical, handsome as all the Stanwys are and have been, an -accomplished gambler, too accomplished, perhaps his enemies, -and he had many, whispered. He was utterly selfish, utterly -pitiless. He had never been known to spare a man or a -woman either. Woe to him or to her who fell into his toils. -With what fine courtesy, with what charm of manner would -he relieve some luckless victim, of his last shilling! How -sweetly and sympathetically he would speak of his victims' -ill fortune, would suggest some future "revenge," and then -pocket his winnings with a grace that could have brought -but little comfort to the poor wretch whose possessions had -passed out of his own into the keeping of this courtly, -delightful, aristocratic gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, young men well endowed with money, having a wholesome -fear of His Lordship, avoided his Lordship's beautiful -daughter, and young men without money were of course -not to be considered for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Therefore, at twenty-eight, Kathleen, unappropriated, and -a very beautiful woman, stood staring out of the window this -fine May morning, into the dull London Square.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Lord, slender, dressed with exquisite care, was of a -tallness and slimness that permitted his tailor to do justice -and honour to his craft. Few men could wear their clothes -with such perfect grace as his Lordship. His tailor, long -suffering man, groaned at the length of the unpaid bill, but -realised that as a walking advertisement Lord Gowerhurst -was an asset to his business not to be despised. So the -lengthy bill grew longer and more formidable, but youngsters, -fresh to town, admiring his Lordship's appearance prodigiously, -made it their business to discover who was his Lordship's -tailor and Mr. Darbey, of Dover Street, saw to it -that Lord Gowerhurst never went shabby and possibly, -cunning man, made those who could and would pay, contribute -unconsciously to the upkeep of Lord Gowerhurst's external -appearance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came of a handsome family, the women of which had -been toasts in many reigns and through many generations. -His forehead was broad and high, crowned by silver hair -that curled crisply, his nose was of the type of the eagle's -beak, his hands white, well kept, reminiscent of the eagle's -claws, a moustache of jetty blackness in admirable contrast -to his silvered hair, shaded and beneficently concealed a -thin-lipped, hard and somewhat cruel mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Lord rolled a cigar between his delicate fingers. It -was an excellent cigar; years ago Julius Dix and Company -had acquired the habit of supplying Lord Gowerhurst with -cigars on credit and bad habits are difficult to eradicate. -But then his Lordship sent wealthy customers to the quiet -but extremely expensive little shop near the Haymarket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our position, Kathleen, is irksome," he said softly, -"deucedly irksome. Now and again I have little windfalls, -but alas—they grow fewer and farther between as time goes -on—at the moment I haven't a bob, you, dear, have not a -bob—" he paused and laughed softly. "It recalls the French -exercise of my youth. I have not a bob, thou hast not a bob, -he has not a bob—" he waved the cigar. "Anyhow, that -is the position, and then some kindly breeze of Heaven wafts -that stout, prosperous, opulent craft the "Sir Josiah -Homewood" on to the horizon of our "sea of troubles," as -Shakespeare so aptly puts it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused, he looked at the slender, upright, girlish back -of his daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So," he went on, "this large, stout, prosperous and richly -freighted cargo boat, the Sir Josiah Homewood, rises on -the horizon of our eventful lives and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, please," the girl said with a note of impatience in -her voice, "leave out all that; I wish to understand -exactly—exactly what you propose——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not what I propose, but what Homewood proposes. -Really, I rather admire the fellow's presumption. As you -know, he has a son, a lad not altogether displeasing, who -fortunately but little resembles his father, a fact you may -have noticed, Kathleen. Indeed, I might almost say the -young fellow is not without his good points; he is prepossessing, -a little shy and silent, in which he does not resemble -his father. He is well educated, he has Eton and Oxford -behind him. By the way, what a time he must have had at -Eton, if his parentage ever leaked out, poor devil—however, -there it is, the lad is at least presentable—but the father -is——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Terrible!" the girl said with a shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too true, yet it is not proposed you should marry the -father. We need money. You, child, need money, and -what is more, a prospect, a future. You have nothing and -the outlook is not cheering."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The outlook is hopeless; I have nothing in the world, -our family was always hopelessly impoverished, still the little -we once had——" Kathleen paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Recriminations, my love, are useless!" his Lordship said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was very little and now that little hath taken -unto itself wings and has flown away——" He stroked his -long drooping moustache with his slender hand. "So it -behoves us to make our arrangements for the future. Sir -Josiah and I have discussed everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean myself, you have arranged the deeds of sale, -I suppose, how much am I worth?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your value is inestimable. Sir Josiah, worthy Baronet, -more daring than I, puts it down in actual figures—" he -paused. "I made a note of them. He advances me—" He -took some papers from his pocket, "the sum of twelve -thousand pounds—advances, mind you, Kathleen, a kindly loan, -which I shall, no doubt, find useful——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is your part of the payment," she said bitterly, -"go on!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He buys a fine house, an estate, he settles it on his son; -by the way the lad's name is Allan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," she said, "go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He settles a fine estate on this Allan, with an income of -eight thousand a year, not so bad, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this is all conditional——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On your marrying the said Allan Homewood. I think," -he said, as he rose from his breakfast table, "I have on the -whole not done so badly for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yourself," she said; "not so badly!" She smiled -bitterly, then shrugged her shapely shoulders. "Very well, -I suppose it is only left for me to say thank you very much -indeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so. The alternative, dear child, is this"—his -lordship waved his hand—"an elderly unmarried lady -residing in, say, a Brighton Boarding House, her face bearing -some evidence of a past but long since faded beauty, her -title, if she is foolish enough to make use of it, subjecting -her to some little annoyance, mingled with a certain amount -of servile respect. Not a pretty picture, my love, but a very -true one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the alternative is to marry Mr. Allan Homewood?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pleasant alternative, and its acceptance never for a -moment in doubt, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never for a moment in doubt," she repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it only remains for me to say Heaven bless you, -my child, and to send a wire of acceptance to Sir Josiah. -No, on second thought, I'll telephone him from the Club." He -paused for a moment to arrange his necktie before the -glass over the mantel, then went to the door. At the door. -he stood and looked at her for a moment, then went out, a -satisfied smile on his thin aristocratic face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl stood there by the window for a long time. She -was thinking. She had much to think about. She was -twenty-eight and a beautiful woman of twenty-eight has no -doubt many memories.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently she sighed and turned away from the window. A -fine place and eight thousand a year and more when Josiah -Homewood was laid with his fathers. Well! things might -be worse, and the lad himself, she liked him. He was younger -than she was by four years, but what did that matter?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had seen him once or twice, had liked him vaguely, -there was little to dislike about him. He was not handsome, -she was glad of that, she hated handsome men, nor was he -plain. Again she was glad; she disliked anything that was -ugly. He was also, despite his parentage, a gentleman. She -liked him for that most of all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he had been vulgar like his father, three times the -money would not have been enough," she said to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still, there were memories, memories that rose up out of -the past, the memory of a face, of eager, ardent, worshipping -eyes, of a lame, halting speech, words disjointed and broken, -eager, pleading, yet hopeless words. "I love you, oh! I -love you; don't turn from me. I know I am not worthy, -Kathleen, but I love you so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed suddenly, she felt ashamed and annoyed to -realise that there were tears on her lashes and on her cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Folly!" she said aloud. "Folly, and it's all dead and -gone ten, years ago, ten years—" she laughed, "a lifetime! -He's married to someone else; if he's sensible, he will have -married someone with money, for he had none, poor fellow!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile at the Club, where the better part of his day -and practically the whole of his night was spent, Lord -Gowerhurst had looked up a telephone number and was putting -a call through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Homewood—yes, Sir Josiah Homewood, is he in? Yes, -I do, Gowerhurst—Lord Gowerhurst—You'll put him -through—then hurry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waited and then came a voice. It was evidently the -voice of a stout man in a state of anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it's me, it's Homewood, my Lord——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Gowerhurst detected the anxiety, purposely he -delayed, he told himself the man was anxious—naturally—"Let -him be anxious, let him remain on tenter hooks for a -time!" It would do him no harm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that Sir Josiah Homewood?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, Homewood, I'm speaking to Lord Gowerhurst, -aren't I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—ah, Homewood, is that you? Well, about that -little matter we were discussing yesterday—" his lordship -drawled, "the proposition that you placed before me with -such engaging frankness, I should not be surprised if you -remember——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yea, my Lord, I've not forgotten! Not me!" The voice -came chokingly, uncertain, but above all things eager.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have discussed it with the person—most concerned!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what does her ladyship——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Homewood, no names on the telephone, no -names I beg!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, of course not, my mistake, my Lord. I wouldn't -think of mentioning any names, not for a moment, my Lord. -Still what does she—the person—the party, I mean, my -Lord, what does she—er—her——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I quite understand the—as you say—party—is inclined -to give very favourable consideration to the matter. In -fact, I may say, my dear Homewood, that the matter is -practically settled on the basis you suggested."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah Homewood in his luxurious City office, closed -his eyes as in ecstasy! He clung to the telephone receiver -and an expression of rapt and perfect contentment stole -over his features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then—then it's all right. I may regard it as all right, -my—my—Lord—she, the party, I mean——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Agrees—" said Lord Gowerhurst shortly. "Briefly, yes -she agrees—the matter is settled and now it only remains -to complete the contract, you understand, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand, ha, ha, very good, just so, the Contract, -always dealing with contracts I am, but not many like this! -Ha, ha, splendid—and now your Lordship and the other -party, I mean the other contracting party, will dine at my -house in Grosvenor Square to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gowerhurst frowned. "Oh, very well!" he said ungraciously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Half past seven at Grosvenor Square, your Lordship -remembers the number?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At half past seven, then!" His Lordship said and hung -up the receiver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that," my Lord said, "is that! When my time -comes, and I am in no hurry for it to come, especially just -now, I shall be able to close my eyes on this world, knowing -that I have done my duty to my only child, a truly -comforting reflection—And now for a brandy with the merest -suggestion of soda, and if possible a little game of -billiards." And he went up the Club's handsome staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>None of the multitudinous clerks in the large and palatial -offices of Sir Josiah Homewood, Son and Company, Limited, -had ever seen the Managing Director in such a delightful -temper, for sometimes his temper was not delightful. This -morning he beamed on all and sundry. Young Alfred Cope, -who supported a widowed Mother on an insignificant salary, -had long been trying to muster up courage to ask for a rise. -It seemed to him that this morning, this bright May -morning, the opportunity had come, and so opportunity sent him, -a shivering, trembling wretch, tapping nervously on the -highly polished mahogany door of Sir Josiah's private office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" Sir Josiah said. "Well, and what do you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alfred stumbled lamely into his pitiful story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah frowned. "How much are you getting paid -now?" he demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forty-two. Forty-two shillings a week! Bless my heart -and soul, princely, princely! Why, when I was a lad such -a wage would have been considered handsome, sir, and here -you come asking me for more—Why; bless me, let me tell you -this, Cope—the City is bristling with clerks, bristling with -'em, you can't move for clerks, sir, and most of 'em out of -work! I've only got to hold up my finger, sir, like this—" He -thrust a broad, stumpy finger into the air, "and say -'Clerk!' and a hundred would rush at me. I'd be suffocated! -Do you understand me, Cope? Simply crushed to death -by the rush! If I put an advertisement in the papers, I'd -have to hire a policeman to keep the Quee—the Queek—what -d'ye call the thing from obstructing the traffic—Forty-two -shillings, you ought to go down on your knees, sir, -on your knees and thank Heaven that you are earning such -a salary! Princely! That's what it is, princely!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so on, for ten long, fear laden, wretched minutes, at -the end of which the hapless wretch slunk away, thanking -God that he had not been dismissed or that his wretched two -and forty shillings had not been reduced to thirty or less.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forty-two shillings—and wants more," Sir Josiah said -to himself, "bless me, what are things coming to?" Then -he banished the frown, he beamed all over his round red -face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lady Kathleen Homewood," he said to himself, "Lady -Kathleen Homewood, my daughter-in-law! Lady Kathleen—ah -ha!" He rubbed his hands. "That'll make Cutler sit -up! The fellow gives himself airs because his daughter -married a fellow who is Governor of some place no one in -their senses ever heard of—His Excellency the Governor—Bless -my heart! I'm sick to death of His Excellency! Now -Cutler will turn green, eh? There's nothing like the real -thing, the real old true blue-blooded British -aristocracy—can't get over that, eh? No, no fear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Usually it takes but two to make a bargain; in this case -it required four. Three of the four were agreed, himself -first of all, now His Lordship, the Earl of Gowerhurst, and -Lady Kathleen Stanwys, his daughter. There was but one -other, but that one other was a good boy, a dutiful son; he -would do exactly what his father wished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God I don't look for opposition from him!" Sir -Josiah thought. "Never trod a better lad than mine, bless -him! He knows my heart's set on this, knows it he does, -and he'll do it to please me! He's not like other young -fellows with their fancy tricks. Besides that, the girl's a -beauty, apart from her blood and breeding! If she is a little -older than he, well, what of that? It's the blood, the birth -that is, what tells every time and by George—by George, -when I have grandchildren I'll be able to look at 'em and -say to myself—'These grandchildren of mine are also the -grandchildren of an Earl!' And that's something these -days, eh? That's something!" So he fell to muttering and -chuckling to himself, this highly pleased old gentleman, and -presently he picked up a pen and all unconsciously scribbled -many times on the blotting paper:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lady Kathleen Homewood, Lady Kathleen Homewood, -my daughter-in-law, Lady Kath——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, what's that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought I'd remind you that it is past one, Sir Josiah, -and you were to lunch with Mr. Cutler and Mr.——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, bless my soul, yes, I'd clean forgotten—many -thanks—Jarvis—quite right, sensible of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Jarvis, the head clerk, bowed and would have retired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Jarvis, one moment, here, help me into my coat, -there's a good feller! That young feller, young what's his -name—Cope—Crope—eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cope, sir, yes, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What sort of a chap is he, good worker and all that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very attentive worker and a respectable young man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supports a widowed mother, I understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me, well, well. I've been having a chat with -him—where's my umbrella?—having a chat with him—a man -can't support a widowed mother cheaply these days, eh, -Jarvis?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very expensive days, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, expensive hobby, too, supporting widowed -mothers. Raise his salary to—say Three pound ten, Jarvis, -and report to me how he goes on! My hat, do you see my -hat? Oh, thanks, I'll be back at two-thirty, Jarvis——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Sir Josiah went out.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-desirable-family-mansion"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A DESIRABLE FAMILY MANSION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>DEAR SIR,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"In reply to your advertisement in the </span><em class="italics">Daily Telegraph,</em><span> -I am at the moment in a position to offer you a very -fine old historical mansion situated in West Sussex on the -Hampshire border. The house has been untenanted for a -number of years and will require considerable attention. In -the hands of a man of wealth and taste, it could be restored to -its original condition and would form one of the most -picturesque and desirable mansions in the Country. It is -eminently a place that it is necessary to see and a description -of it would take too much time now, for as I have previously -mentioned, I am only, at the moment, in a position to offer -it as it has already been seen and highly approved by a -wealthy American gentleman and it is quite probable that -he will close at the bargain price at which the house and -estate of seven hundred and fifty acres, including part of a -small and picturesque village, is being offered. I would -urge on you, therefore, if you care to consider the place, to -view it without one moment's delay, as obviously it will be -sold to the first who makes a good offer. I may add that -the Mansion in question, with its many historical -associations, would make a country seat fit for any nobleman in -the land. May I finally repeat my urgent advice to view the -place at once, as the delay of even an hour may be -prejudicial to your obtaining it. Believe me, sir,</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Yours truly,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>DALABEY AND SON."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Over this letter Sir Josiah pondered a little and frowned -a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's rather like having a pistol at one's head! Hanged -if it isn't!" he muttered. "But it reads all right, it -reads—the goods! Historical Mansion, seven hundred and fifty -acres, fit for a nobleman, with part of a village, sounds -right—sounds right—" he muttered. He nodded his head. -"But this hurry—why it's a confounded nuisance, that's -what it is. How can I go? I've got—let me see—har -hum—" He muttered to himself and frowned heavily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had much important business to see to, that day, a -meeting of Directors at twelve, another at two, and there -were things to be arranged and discussed that Sir Josiah -knew would require his clear brain and intellect. How -could, he go journeying down to some remote part of Sussex -to view this ancient mansion with its historical associations, -desirable as it might be?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah looked up from the letter and glanced across -the breakfast table at his son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan was reading. It would have been noteworthy had -Allan not been reading. The lad was always reading. His -book was propped up against a teacup and he seemed to have -forgotten his breakfast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A good looking, big and broad shouldered young fellow -this, with clean cut features and massive jaw and a broad -high forehead! Muscle and sinew were there, but there -was intelligence and brain power in that noble forehead of -his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fully six feet stood he in his socks, massive of build, with -straight, honest blue eyes and waving hair that was neither -dark nor fair. A face that might in its strength seem a -little hard, a little fierce, even a little forbidding, but that -the mouth atoned for all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No man with a mouth like this could be other than very -human, very tender and kindly, very generous, the mouth -of a man who could give much, suffer much and love greatly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sir Josiah saw nothing of all this, he only saw Allan, -his son, reading another of those confounded books, for -which Sir Josiah had no feeling, except of the deepest -disgust.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father?" The young man looked up. "I'm sorry!" -he said. "Did you speak to me before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I didn't, and breakfast ain't the time, Allan, to be -stuffing your head with all that there nonsense!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan smiled. "You had your letters, and as I had my -book——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You always have your book! I never saw such a fellow -for reading—but I'm not saying anything, my boy. No, no, -you're a good lad. Few sons please their old fathers as you -do me—we're not quarrelling, Allan lad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We never have yet, father, and we never will, I think!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know!" said Sir Josiah. "Ah, Allan, you're doing -well, a fine woman, beautiful as a picture, tall and stately, -and the daughter of an Earl. Why, boy, you ought to be -in the Seventh Heaven of delight and instead you sit there -with your nose in a book!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a fine and a beautiful and I believe a good woman," -said Allan, "but her father—" he paused. "I could have -wished her a better father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An Earl, an Earl!" cried the old man. "A better father -than an Earl! Bless me, Allan—what nonsense! However, -you're marrying her not her father; it's all settled, all -agreed—" He rubbed his hands, his round red face shone -with benevolence and joy. "You're a sensible and dutiful -fellow, Allan! You say to yourself, 'My old father wishes -it—The girl is good and beautiful and well born, I don't -know particularly that I love her—come to that perhaps I -don't, but I might go farther and fare worse!' Eh, that's -it, isn't it? And you're doing it, boy, because you know it -will give pleasure to the old man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you have got my reasoning very correctly, -father!" Allan said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's no one else?" Sir Josiah said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one else, no—and I like Lady Kathleen. I admire -her and I pity her——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pity—pity—bless my soul, boy, pity. Why should you -pity her? Isn't she well born, doesn't she move in the best, -the very best society? Isn't she the only daughter, only -child come to that, of an Earl? Pity her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just that, I pity her, I am deeply sorry for her. I think -she suffers a good deal and can't you understand why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I don't know, lad, how should I know what the feelings -of a young Society lady are?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is proud and she is poor, there's suffering in -that—She is proud and she knows that her father's name is in -bad odour. Do you think a sensitive, highly strung girl as -she is doesn't feel a thing like that? Yes, I pity her, and -if through me her life may be made a little happier, why -not? Last night when you and her father were talking -money—she and I had much to say to one another. She -was very open and very frank to me and I to her. We -made no pretence—we know that we do not love one another. -She is desperately poor and she is marrying me chiefly—entirely -for the money you are going to give us both. I -know that you are lending Lord Gowerhurst money, that -he has not the slightest intention of every repaying -you—Oh, Kathleen and I have been perfectly open and frank with -one another—I understand that she cares for no one else. -She has the same assurances from me, so there—" Allan -laughed sharply, "you have it, the usual thing, a marriage -of convenience! How can I pretend that I like it, Father, -when I do not? You—you know that I would sooner not—but -it is arranged, it is agreed—I do not love her, but thank -God I can and do respect her and I feel sorry for her—and -so we shall go through with it, Father!" he concluded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Josiah nodded. "Yes, boy, you will go through with it -and one day you'll thank me that I brought it about. I -know a good woman when I see one and I tell you she is -that—good—good to the core—I'm not clever and not over -well educated, Allan, like you are. I don't set up to be a -gentleman, but there's one thing I can do, I can sum up -my fellow men and women, too, come to that. You'll find -Allan, I'm making no mistake when I say Lady Kathleen -is as fine and as true a woman as ever stepped. You'll go -through with this marriage, Allan, I count on you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never failed you yet, Father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You never have, never, and never will!" A look of rare -tenderness came into the commonplace, even vulgar face. He -rose and went to his son and put a large trembling hand on -his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No Allan, you've never failed me, not even when you -were a little chap! Do you think I don't think of it? Do -you think I don't thank God for it, do you think when I -hear other men speaking of their sons and of—of the trouble -some of 'em bring? Do you think I don't say to myself—'My -boy's above that kind of thing, my boy's an honest man -and a gentleman!'" He gripped the shoulder under his hand -tightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now read that, read this letter——" he went on in a -changed voice. "Read it, Allan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan took the letter and read it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks like being just the kind of place I'm after!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are bound to be hundreds of others—hundreds!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just what there aren't. You know how I've -advertised, you know how many places I've seen, twenty at -least, and I wouldn't be found dead in any one of 'em. -No! places like I want aren't to be found every day, and I've -got an idea this might be the place. Besides that, these -agents write, it's to be bought cheaply. I'm never above -making a bargain, Allan. It's in pretty bad condition -evidently and I daresay it'll cost some money to put right, but -what's that matter if I get it off the purchase price? Now -to-day I can't go and you see that this agent writes to say it's -urgent. There's an American out for it and I don't like to -be beat, Allan, and especially I don't like to be beat by an -American. They are keen buyers and clever buyers and -what I say is this—if this place is good enough for a rich -American—why it might also be good enough for me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan nodded. "And you will go and see this place -and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's just what I can't do, I've got two Company -meetings and important ones they are, and I can't miss 'em. -Time's short, it's a bit like having a pistol pointed at one's -head; but there you are, you can't help it and so my boy -you've just got to put that book of poems, or whatever it is, -away and forget it for to-day—you've got to go down—to——" -he paused and looked at the letter, "this place, this -Little Stretton, Little Stretton——" he repeated. "I seem -to know the name, been there before perhaps—motoring or -something, however you'll have to go there to-day instead -of—me! You're not a fool, Allan, you've got eyes in your -head—After all, the place is to be for you when you are -married to her Ladyship, and it's right you should be the one -to see it, so go down there, boy, see the place, size it up and -find out the price. Use your own judgment because you've -got it to use. I'll leave it in your hands. I'll make out a -cheque for five hundred and sign it and you can leave it -as deposit if you decide to buy. Only make up your mind, -don't beat about the bush, remember we're not the only -ones—and if it's the right place I don't want to lose it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But father—had you not better see it yourself, surely -to-morrow——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow won't do—it must be done to-day—I know, -worse luck, you're not a good hand at making a bargain, -but I've got to make the best of that! Do your best, if you -like the place, if you think it's cheap, if there are possibilities -in it—why, Allan, boy, snap it up—don't let anyone get -ahead of you! Here's the cheque." Sir Josiah tore a cheque -out and made it out for five hundred pounds and signed it -"Josiah Homewood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now you'd better look out a train to this place, this -Little Stretton——" again he seemed to linger over the -name. "Unless, of course," he added, "you'll go by the -car?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go by train——" Allan said. In the train he could -read his beloved books. The car allowed no such -relaxation. "I'll go by train!" he said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="how-allan-came-to-the-garden"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HOW ALLAN CAME TO THE GARDEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For May it was a very hot day, almost an unnaturally -hot day. It was a day that might well have belonged -to August.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan stepped it from the station, a sign post told him -that Little Stretton was yet a mile to go. He took off his -hat and henceforth carried it in his hand. He had read -his book all the way down in the train and his mind was -still lingering on it, on the book rather than on realities. -So when he came to where stood an old, a very, very ancient -oak, the mere relic of a once noble tree, he looked at it -vaguely, and then looked beyond for the little red tiled barn -that some fancy told him would be there. And it was there, -but it was a very old barn and the roof had fallen in, in -places and lichen was growing on the broken tiles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan stared at it, he felt faintly surprised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Strange!" he said aloud. "Strange—why——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had an idea that the barn was not so old, why it ought -to have been almost a new barn, had he not seen——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Heavens!" he said aloud. "I must be dreaming -or something——" Then he walked on rapidly. He -breasted a hill and descended on the far side, following the -twisting, turning road between the hedgerows all sweet with -May flowers, and so came at last to a little village of red -houses roofed with slabs of old Sussex stone, all green and -yellow with lichen, yellow mostly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan stood still and looked at the village that lay almost -at his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose," he said slowly. "I suppose we must, have -motored through here once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seemed to know it all so well, the sleepy sloping -street with the quaintly irregular houses, the little shops -with curved bow windows thrusting out on to the pavement, -and the low pitched doorways one gained by climbing -perhaps three or more worn stone steps. The Inn, the sign -of which swung from a beam that spanned the street. Yes -surely he had seen it all before—on some motoring trip -perhaps—and yet—and yet in a way it was strangely different, -as the barn had differed from his expectations. For a time -with a queer puzzled sensation, he stood, and then he came -back to realities. He had journeyed here to see some -house agent—what was his name?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dalabey! yes Dalabey!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boy," he called to a dusty white haired urchin playing -with a dog. "Boy, which is Mr. Dalabey's, the house -agent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy pointed. "That be Dalabey's up they steps be -Dalabey's shop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Allan went up the steps and found himself in the office -of Dalabey and Son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Dalabey, a stout, red haired man, wearing no coat, -was talking with a visitor, he looked at Allan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father had a letter about a house, an old house, he -asked me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah yes, to be sure, the house as Mr. Van Norden be -after, well there be nothing settled as yet, sir," -Mr. Dalabey said as he reached up for a huge key.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be ten minutes about," he said, "if you'll wait here -while I get finished with this gentleman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't I go on? If you direct me I might find it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, and I'll follow. Well you can't make any mistake, -'tis just beyond the village, you'll see a high red wall, -a very old wall it be, follow the wall for maybe a quarter -of a mile, then you will come to the gates, well this key don't -fit the gates, you'll hev to go a bit further till you come to a -green door. This key is the key of the door, if you'll go on -I'll get my bicycle and follow you and maybe I'll catch -you up before you get there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks!" Allan said, he took the key, a ponderous -thing and smiled at it for its bigness and clumsiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Children in the roadway stared at the young man swinging -the ponderous key in his hand, women standing in their -doorways nodded to one another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They knew the key. "Very like he be the rich American -who be coming to buy the Manor," they said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan walked on. Yes, certainly they must have motored -through this village, he remembered it vaguely, and yet it -seemed to him always a little changed. Now was there not, -should there not be a Cross standing here where the road -widened, in front of the Inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused and stared about him. There was no Cross, -no suggestion of one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An old man, typically Sussex, grey bearded and bent -double by age, clad in a smock and an ancient tall hat, stared -at him with rheumy eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandfather," said Allan, "wasn't there a cross here -once?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, a cross there were and a very fine cross it was -tu," said the old man. "I du remember her, when I were a -lad, seventy years ago; I du remember that Cross, seventy -years ago knocked down her were in broad daylight, her -were and I see it done, I did wi' my two eyes, see it done, -I did!" He nodded his hoary head. "'Twere this a way, -the doing of it. Village Street be wunnerful steep it be, -they was bringing up two great el'ums on a lurry, three -strappin' hosses they were a-pulling of the lurry up the -hill, then down all on a sudden goes one o' the hosses, and -down goes another. T'other hoss rares up her did and crack -goes the chain, lurry wi' they two great el'ums goes running -back'ard down the bill it did. I say it, as seen it done -seventy years ago, seventy and one to be parfectly correct, -and bash goes they el'um trunks into the Cross. Bash goes -the Cross, down it falls in little pieces. I picked up a -piece, I du remember, the bit I've got to this day, it stands -on the chimbley shelf, it du. Seventy and one years ago, -and me a lad of turned twelve a fine strapping lad tu."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan slipped a coin into the old man's willing palm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strange he should have thought that a Cross stood there. -And yet, why strange? He had seen some other village -street like this one, with a Cross set up in it. One often -saw Crosses set up in old world villages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he went on, swinging the great key in his hand and -presently he came to the end of the village, where was the -beginning of the old brick wall, a very high brick wall it -was, fully ten feet, and the bricks were of that rare rose -tint, the like of which have never been made since Anne -was Queen, but these seemed to go back far before the time -of Anne and here and there the wall was somewhat broken. -But nature had done her best to make good the gaps, filling -them up with lichen and moss of brilliant green and vivid -yellow, a feast of colour for eyes tired of London's sombre -streets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he knew, because Mr. Dalabey had told him, that a -quarter of a mile on, he would come to the gates, wide -gates of iron hung on stone pillars and on each stone pillar -was set the head of a deer, also carved in stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And presently he came to the gates, and the pillars stood -all moss covered, surmounted, as he knew they would be, -by the sculptured heads of deer; but one had lost its antlers, -and the other had its muzzle broken short off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan looked up at them and smiled, and then his smile -vanished. Mr. Dalabey had not told him of the deers' heads, -and yet—they were here. Curious! he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was as though he had come on a place that he had -visited in a dream, he could not shake off the feeling of -familiarity, the knowledge, the certainty that attended his -every step. He knew that the green door would be arched -at the top and that it would be studded with great nails -and bound with iron in many places.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knew that it would be and it was! He fitted the heavy -key in the lock and it turned at last with much rasping -and complaining.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door gave on a paved yard and in the crevices of the -great flat topped cobbles grew weeds of all kind that bloomed -and flourished untouched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the feeling of familiarity, the knowledge of -the place had grown on him, so that he wondered at it no -longer. He accepted it, because it was right, because—he -refused to consider it at all. He knew!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the left stood the kitchen part of the house, he glanced -towards it, but turned to the right and picked his way across -the weed grown yard and came to a small wicket gate, -between two tumble down buildings. The wicket gate had -fallen into rottenness and lay all in fragments on the ground, -but through the opening that was left he passed and found -himself in the wild tangle of the great garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the garden he walked, a man waking, yet in a -strange dream. He followed the flagged pathway past the -old sundial that had lost its gnomon, beyond the wild yew -hedge and so to the lake, from which rose the slim figure -of a stone girl and at her he stared long.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He suddenly realised that, he had come here to see her, -he had come on purpose, just to see this stone figure of a -girl. He would have been disappointed, almost shocked, if -she had not been here—and she was here—but the pitcher -on her shoulder was empty and the upflung water flashed -no longer in the sunlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly, very slowly, he turned away, he went back through -the rose garden with bowed head, he came to the great -circle of stone in the midst of which was set the old sundial, -and on a stone seat, warmed by the sun, he sat down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Strange!" he said. He said it aloud. "Strange!" he -repeated. "I seem to know——" He stretched his arm out -and laid it on the back of the old stone seat, and sat there -staring at the moss grown sundial pedestal—staring till it -seemed to waver, to become all uncertain before his sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then—then he lifted his head and looked about him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw a garden all glowing with flowers, and trim green -lawns, the weeds, the desolation and the ruin of centuries -had passed as with a breath. The garden was all glowing -and blowing as perhaps it had two hundred years ago, and -then slowly he turned his head and looked towards the house -and saw that doors and windows stood open and that -curtains swung from the casements lazily in the breeze. And -as he watched a door opened and into the sunshine stepped, -somewhat timidly he thought, a little maid, a trim, slim -bodied little maid. She wore a flowered cotton gown, short -at the ankles and low in the neck, and how the sun seemed -to kiss it! And the little face above, a rarely sweet little -face, purely oval with ripe red lips and the bluest eyes in -the world. So she came hurrying along the wide stone -pathway to him, a smile on her red lips and the copper red of -her hair all flaming in the sunlight under the dainty mob -cap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But ere she reached him, she stood still suddenly and -looked at him with a pretty frown that was yet half a smile -on her little face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan!" she said. "Allan, be you still angry wi' your -Betty now, dear? Will 'ee take back the words 'ee did speak -in your anger, Allan? For you should know I would not have -let a gawky rogue like Tim Burnand buss me, Allan, if I -could 'a helped it. Before I could tell what he was at, he -did steal a kiss, and I have rubbed my poor face sore to rub -it all away for—for I want no kisses but thine Allan, -my—my dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice was very soft and sweet and the tears gathered -in her wonderful blue eyes, tears that seemed to wring his -heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I was overharsh and rough wi' thee, my Betty," he -said. "I know 'twas not your fault, but all the fault of -Tim Burnand whose bones I'll break for him, may——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nay—swear not!" she said. "Oh Allan, I love thee for -thy jealousy, I love thee for it!" Her eyes were laughing -and joyous now and her face was all smiles and dimples -and so she came to him, daintily, and put her two small -hands, little brown hands in queer black lace mittens, on his -shoulders and rising on her toes, she kissed him on the eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And never, never more will 'ee be angry and jealous -of your Betty?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never again!" he said. "But because I do love thee so, -my maid I could not bear to think that other lips——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have never touched mine, 'twas but my cheek he bussed, -and I boxed his ears soundly for him—but hush—I hear my -lady calling to me—Listen! Betty! Betty! yes—I did but -steal away, seeing you here—just to tell thee——" She -paused for breath for a moment "to tell thee, my Allan, how -I do love thee! Hark, my lady is calling again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blow me; sir, if I didn't think you'd been and lost -yourself or fell down the old well, which I did ought to have -reminded you about, or something!" said a voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan started up, stared up into the round red and -over-heated face of Mr. Dalabey. He looked about him with -dazed eyes. Weeds were rioting over the old garden, the -grass stood knee high on the lawns, dandelions thrust their -golden heads between the paving stones at his feet. He stared -at the house and saw it all, sombre and lifeless, a house of the -dead. Its windows were broken, desolation and ruin were -upon it, and then he looked back at the jolly red face of -Mr. Dalabey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fell asleep!" Mr. Dalabey said. "And been dreaming!" -he added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—dreaming——" Allan said quietly. "Dreaming!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-allan-buys-the-manor-house"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH ALLAN BUYS THE MANOR HOUSE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In and out and up and down Mr. Dalabey led Allan over -the old house. They pried into dark and dusty -corners, they ascended narrow and rickety stairs. It was a -wonderful, rambling old place, the years had set their mark -on it. The old oaken floors, worn and roughened by a -thousand feet, took on many a queer pitch; from the pine -panelling the paint had come away in great flakes; scarce -a window but had its broken pane and through the pane -some impertinent creeper thrust into the room and nodded -to them familiarly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan followed the stout, red faced, good humoured man -up and down the stairs and in and out the old rooms. A -great talker was Mr. Dalabey, a born seller of houses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This here be the banquetting hall, a very noble room, sir, -very noble, fit for the aristocracy, her be, and a good many -of the aristocracy it hev seen, sir, and many a bottle hev -been drunk here, sir, I'll wager! Look at the ceiling, sir, -some of the finest old plaster work to be met with in the -kingdom, wonderful fine plaster work it be, as many gents -as be connoisseurs, hev remarked. Greatly took with the -plaster work was Mr. Van Norden."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Allan said, and "Yes!" For his thoughts were far -away, he looked through the broken and dusty windows into -the garden with its weeds and its broken pathways and -overgrown flower beds, and a strange sense of loss came to him. -He felt a little ache at his heart, for the girl who had come -to him in that same strange dream and had kissed his eyes -and called him "her dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How real she had been. He marvelled now at the feeling -that had been his at the time, that she was a very part -of his life. How sweet and musical her voice, how warm -and soft the touch of her red lips and yet it had only been -a dream!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This be one o' the guest rooms and you'll notice the wig -cupboard, sir," said Mr. Dalabey; "very remarkable this wig -cupboard, you'll see 'em in most of the bedrooms where the -quality of them days kep' their wigs. Much took Mr. Van -Norden was with they wig cupboards!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!" said Allan, and all the time his thoughts were -with the maiden of the garden, she who had kissed his eyes -and had vanished as she had come, leaving him with this -strange sense of loneliness and longing and hunger, and -above all that deep, deep sense of loss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now I think we've pretty well done it, sir, there's -the stables, rare fine stables they was once. Seldom less -than twenty hosses did they keep in them stables in the -Elmacott's days——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose days?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Elmacott, that were the name o' the folk, dead and gone -they be now—Sir Nathaniel were the last, a rare wild devil -of a man according to history, my old grandfather, a -wonderful man he were, would tell me many a story of Sir Nat, -as they called him, when I were a boy. Stories my old -granddad had from his father before him—well sir," -Mr. Dalabey paused, "well, sir, there it be, I've shewn you all -there is to see, hiding nothing, a rare lot of money'll be -wanted to be spent on it, sir, and there be no disguising the -fact, nor have I attempted to disguise it, as you'll bear -witness, sir, but there be this Mr. Van Norden keen set on the -place and likely for to make up his mind any moment, -considering of it he is at this very time, I daresay!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are the owners?" Allan asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A gentleman of the name of Stimpson be the owner, a -distant relative of the Elmacotts by marriage. I do -understand, out in Canada he be, born and bred there and -never clapped eyes on the place, nor ever likely to. I've got -to get the best price I can for the place, seeing he be my -client, and the price I've asked Mr. Van Norden——" Dalabey -paused. He looked at Allan, he had no great opinion -of Allan. "Queer and dreamy like," Mr. Dalabey thought, -"not businesslike, one of they sort who goes through the -world mooning——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the price?" Allan asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—thirty thousand pounds," said Dalabey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a great deal of money," Allan said, he said it more -for the sake of saying something than for any other reason. -Had Dalabey said fifty thousand pounds, he would -probably have said the same thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Open to an offer I be, but the offer's got to come quick -and soon, or Mr. Van Norden——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know, I know!" Allan stood and stared out over the -garden. He wondered at its strange fascination for him. -Of course it had only been a dream, yet a dream so strangely -real, so clear cut, so logical and why—why should it have -come to him here in this old garden—why?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Dalabey was staring at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone to sleep he hev seemingly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thirty thousand, sir, and that be no more than forty -pounds an acre for good Sussex land by my reckoning, to -say nothing of the old house and the buildings and a dozen -cottages in the village wi' the alehouse, the Elmacott Arms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes!" Allan said. "Yes! I am acting for my -father. I have his permission to—to settle—the house will -cost a great deal to repair, a great deal!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't disguised nothing from you and no one can -say——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will offer you twenty-five thousand on my father's -behalf!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh sir, oh consider! A fine house her be and wunnerful -good land the best in all Sussex and twenty-five thousand -b'ain't no more than about thirty pounds an acre, a terribul -little money that, sir, for land so good and the historical -association and all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-seven!" Allan said briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There be Mr. Van Norden a considering of it at this -very moment——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan hated bargaining, hated money. His life had been -spent in an atmosphere of money. He knew that above and -before all he wanted to be rid of this man, he wanted to go -back to the old garden and sit there on the sun warmed -stone seat and see if his dream would not come back to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty-eight thousand, then, and no more, I have done, -take it or leave it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll like to see the cottages and the Inn, a wunnerful -old Inn her be with historical interest and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" said Allan. "No! do you take my offer, yes or no? -Tell me now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Balabey stroked his chin. He did not like to do -business in this way. True it was profitable business, for -Mr. Van Norden was considering the offer at twenty-five -thousand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, sir, done and done!" said Mr. Dalabey. -"Done with you, sir, and I congratulate you on a rare -bargain, I do, sir!" He held out his large and moist hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan took it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now," he said, "I will ask you to do me a favour! I -have purchased the place at twenty-eight thousand pounds. -I have a cheque for five hundred pounds as deposit in my -pocket, if I had a pen——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got a fountain pen with me, sir," said Dalabey, -"always carry one I du!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well then, we will sit down here—and if you will -lend me your pen——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down on the old stone seat and Allan filled in the -cheque.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make it payable to me," Dalabey said. "Thomas J. Dalabey," -which Allan did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now," Allan said, "I'd like to look about the old -place alone, take the cheque and I will call at your office -on my way back, you can then give me the receipt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To be sure and so I will, and once more congratulate -you I do, and if so be you'll honour me, sir, I'll have a cup -of tea ready and waiting for you when you come back!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you!" Allan said. "And now, one thing more, -how is the old place called, Mr. Dalabey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why 'tis Homewood Manor, I thought as I mentioned -the name in my letter——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you did not, though I remember someone else spoke -of it to me—Homewood Manor, that is strange!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the Parish of Homewood it be," said Dalabey, "just -within, and the next Parish be Little Stretton, but as -this——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand, I quite understand, but all the same it is -curious!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see how," said Mr. Dalabey, "curious it 'ud be -if it were called anything else, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at the cheque, at the signature!" Allan said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Dalabey looked, he uttered an exclamation as he -spelled out Josiah Homewood's crabbed handwriting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very odd it be, I swear!" he said. "And very right and -proper too, come to that, nothing could be better! Mr. Homewood -of Homewood Manor, it sounds good, sir! And now I'll -get back and a cup o' tea'll be ready for you in say an hour's -time——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say two——" Allan said, "and thank you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Dalabey hurried off to spread the news through Little -Stretton. Beaming with joy he was, as he cycled down the -road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Mrs. Hanson, there you be, Ma'am!" he shouted, -slowing down by the little cottage. "News I've got for 'ee -and for that little gel o' thine!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"News—hev the American——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, ma'am, he hasn't! Why, my maid, what be the matter -wi' 'ee?" Dalabey added, for he had caught sight of -Betty's blooming face in the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And a pretty picture the girl made, her sweet face framed -in the clinging greenery and the roses on the point of breaking -into bloom, but the sweetest rose of all was there in the -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fair joyous you do look," said Dalabey, "joyous be the -word, all bubbling over wi' delight—and yet—you cannot -have heard the news of the selling yet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The—the selling—Mr. Dalabey, not—not the selling -of—my—of—oh you said—the American hasn't bought——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Homewood Manor be sold, sold by I, this very day, Mrs. Hanson, -sold by I within the hour!" He rubbed his big red -hands, "and a fair price, yes I'll admit, a fair price as -things go—but sold it be, sold and done for, but not to the -American gentleman—Why, Mrs. Hanson, what be the -matter wi' that gel o' thine?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Betty had gone white, white as death, and the joy had -gone out of her face and her little red lips dragged down -pitifully and into her blue eyes had come tears, tears which all -unnoticed trickled down her pale cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fair daft that maid be about that old garden!" said -Mrs. Hanson. "And glad I be, Mr. Dalabey, as the place -be sold, and put to orders, I hope it'll be, so this maid of -mine will go no more roamin' where her haven't no business -to be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah yes, to be sure, to be sure!" Mr. Dalabey said. "To -be sure," he added, "well! sold it be and, strangest of all, to a -young gentleman, leastways his father, which be all the same, -of the name of Homewood. There, what do 'ee think of -that now? Homewood Manor sold to a Homewood, curious, -eh? Well, well, I must be getting along!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sold it be and a dratted good job too!" Mrs. Hanson said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty crept away to her attic room under the thatched -roof. Sold! Her garden sold and for ever now barred -against her! No more rambles in the enchanted garden by -moonlight, no more dreams in which she peopled the old -garden with all those strange folk, of whom she had seen -visions. And He—she would never see Him more, bending -over the flower beds at his work. He whose face she -had hardly seen, and yet somehow she knew that He meant -so much to her. So the little maid crept to her room with -bursting heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sold it be, sold it be," she whispered to herself.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-hate-himhate-him-i-du"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"I HATE HIM—HATE HIM I DU!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Allan sat on the old stone seat in the warm sunshine. -He watched the rioting weeds, the broken sundial, the -long pathway of flagged stone leading to the grim desolate -house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He closed his eyes and opened them again, hoping to see -that vision he had seen, but it came to him no more. -No! there were only the weeds and the decay and the green moss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he sat there for a full hour and tried to force that -which would not come. He could see her, in fancy, tripping -down the flagged path to him, with love and tenderness in her -blue eyes, that dainty little figure with the head of flaming -gold and the white neck. But it was a vision that could -not be forced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So presently, disheartened and hopeless, he rose and went -to the lake and stared hard at the broken stone nymph and -watched the great idle fish and the sense of loss grew stronger -and yet stronger on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Who was she who had come out of the past to kiss his -eyes and to tell him that she loved him? Why should such -dreams come to him? He had never dreamed in all his -life before, but she had been so real, even to the little black -lace mittens, black lace mittens such he had never seen on a -girl's hands before. Yet he had dreamed of her and the -sweet voice of her and the sweet Sussex speech and strangely -enough, had he not answered her in that same speech? He -remembered it now with a sudden start of surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, he with Eton and Oxford behind him, had spoken -as she had spoken, as the old man who had told him about -the broken Cross in Little Stretton had spoken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned away, he made his way back through the garden. -He wondered at his seeming previous knowledge of -it now, for that knowledge was gone, it took him some time -to find the gap where the broken wicket gate had been, but -he found it and went, blundering and uncertain, across the -grass grown stable yard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He locked the battered green door behind him and thrust -the great key into his coat pocket and went along the road, -and on the way to the village he passed a little thatched roofed -cottage and under that thatched roof a maid was lying on her -little bed, face downward, weeping her heart out for the -thing that he had done, yet he could not know that. How -could he? He saw an old dame standing by the little gate, -an upright severe old dame, with white hair and a wrinkled -face, and she bobbed him a country curtsey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her Allan lifted his hat politely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A beautiful day!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And that it be, a wunnerful fine day and hot like for -May her be, sir and might—might I make bold——" she -hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan stopped and looked at her with kindly eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were going to ask me something?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cur-us I be, which be a besetting sin!" she admitted. -"But Mr. Dalabey he hev passed by just now when my maid -and I—my granddarter her be, were here and he told we as -he hev sold the old Manor House and I were thinking, sir, -seeing the key was sticking out, of your pocket——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan laughed. "Yes," he said, "you are right, I have -bought it, for my father, that is——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wunnerful fine place it be!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we shall be near neighbours, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she dropped a curtsey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tisn't for the like of we to be a neighbour to the like of -gentry," she added, "but if any little thing I can du——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be sure I will come and ask you Mrs.——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hanson be my name, sir, as anyone can tell 'ee. Old -this cottage be, but there never yet lived in it one whose -name was not Hanson. 'Twere Hansons lived here in the -days when the Elmacotts lived at the Manor, Hansons hev -been servants there, always served the Elmacotts, they did, -and if, sir, there be any little thing that we can du——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are very good!" Allan said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A dear talkative old soul," he thought; he held out a -friendly hand to her and she blushed at the honour and -bobbed him a dozen curtseys as he went his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, Betty, my maid, Betty, come 'ee here, Betty, -where be 'ee? Come here!" cried Mrs. Hanson, when Allan -had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here I be, Grandmother!" Betty came, a pale sorrowful -faced little maiden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And crying 'ee've been, shame on 'ee my maid for to -cry because that dirty old place hev been sold and who do 'ee -think I have been talkin' wi'? Why bless 'ee wi' the young -gentleman as hev bought her and a proper young gentleman -he be, not above shaking hands wi' an old body like me and -lifting of his hat to I, for all the world like I were a fine -lady! Bless 'ee my maid, a fine, upstanding, smart, young -gentleman he be, one of the quality too, aye of the quality, -my maid, for mark 'ee the real quality are never above shaking -hands wi' a poor body and talking pleasant to the likes o' -we! 'Tis they upstarts and nobodys as looks down on poor -folks! When 'ee sees him Betty, 'ee'll——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never want to see him, never!" the girl cried, "Never, -never, I hope I never shall see him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me what nonsense are 'ee talking now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never want to see him, for—for if I du, I shall hate him, -hate him, aye, I hate him now, I du—hate him terribul -bad, I du——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For shame and to your room wi' 'ee till you du come to -your senses—I be ashamed o' you, Betty Hanson, that I be! -Hate him indeed, hate him, a fine upstanding——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" Betty said, and -then once again, with defiance and anger and sorrow too -in her blue eyes, "I hate him, I du, Grandmother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson lifted a rigid arm, she pointed at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To your room wi' 'ee, Betty Hanson," she said, "I be -ashamed of 'ee, I be, to your room, you perilous bad maid!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="how-wonderfulthe-way-of-things"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"HOW WONDERFUL—THE WAY OF THINGS"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Bless my soul!" Sir Josiah said, "Bless my soul!" He -said it several times, there was a look of astonishment -on his red round face, "Bless my soul, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He walked up and down the large and imposing room, his -hands behind his back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how about the drains, did you make any enquiry -about the drains?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" said Allan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you wouldn't, nor about the water! Is water laid -on, eh, answer me that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I don't know, father, I am afraid I—I was a bad -representative!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's enough to worry a man's head off," cried his father. -"Here do I go trusting you to go and—and—not a thing -do you know! Hand over my cheque for five hundred -pounds like it was a bagatelle as the saying is. You don't -know anythin' about the title deeds, nothing about the drains, -nothing about the water, while you admit the state of repair -of the house is somethin' disgraceful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, I wish you had gone yourself, I told you——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know, you told me I know, you did—told me you -weren't no good at bargaining, and I'm afraid you were -right! Here you go and—and—and——" Sir Josiah paused, -a little breathlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what's the place like? Just try my lad and pull -yourself together and describe it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Homewood Manor is——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What Manor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Homewood—it bears the same name as we do, father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah sat down, he sat down abruptly and stared wide -eyed at his son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Homewood——" he gasped, "Little Stretton—Homewood -Manor—well, well if this don't beat anything—anything -I've ever heard—Homewood——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is an odd coincidence," said Allan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Odd coincidence, it's more—it's more. It is the very -hand of Fate, that's what it is, the hand of Fate, you don't -understand of course you don't——" he paused. "Allan, did -you ever hear the name Pringle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pringle?" asked Allan, puzzled, "of course I have heard -it, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heard it, just heard it—eh? That's all, just heard it, -mentioned and nothing more, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a name I have heard, father, that's all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And don't signify anything to you, nothing particular, out -of the way, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me, bless me, you never heard me speak of Allan -Pringle of The Green Gate Inn in Aldgate?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan shook his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wonderful man!" said Sir Josiah. "Allan, his name -was, the same as yours and Allan was his father before him -and his father before him, yes Allans all along the line, till -they came to me, only me they called Josiah, Josiah after -Josiah Rodwell, my mother's father, hoping to get a bit out -of the old man, which they never did, bless me! and never -heard of Allan Pringle, you haven't?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Queer too," Josiah rambled on, "that he should be the -kind of man he was, they said of him as he could squeeze -gold out of a stone and I b'lieve he could. Coming from -the country, a farm hand he was and his father a gardener -and his father's father a gardener, grubbing about in the -earth, Allan, and yet Allan Pringle came to London, a -farmer's boy and makes a little fortune!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But who was he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My grandfather, Allan Pringle was. He laid the foundation -of our fortune! My father was keen and clever, not -up to the old man though. Still he did not do so badly, -he left me forty thousand when he died, that's what I've -been building on, Allan, and now—now—maybe it's nearer -twenty times forty thousand, my boy! That comes of -having a head on you—a head which you haven't got and -never will have!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then your name is—is Pringle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was!" said Sir Josiah. "It was my father who took the -name of Homewood when he began to get on a bit and -wanted to sink the aleshop, called himself Homewood after -the place where his father was born and where all the family -came from——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is this very place that to-day——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah nodded. "The very place!" he said. "Queer, -isn't it, Allan? Very queer! When I heard the name Little -Stretton, it set me thinking, but even then I didn't quite -catch on. But now, Homewood Manor, why bless me, boy—my -grandfather, Allan Pringle's mother, was maid in that -very house and my great grandfather, Allan Pringle he was, -Allan, the same as you, he and she was sweethearting, her the -lady's maid, he the under gardener, and got married, they -did. A wonderful pretty young woman, so I've heard and a -sad story if what one hears is true, hadn't been married a -year when she died when the boy was born, him as afterwards -kept the Green Gate Inn in Aldgate. And now, now after all -these years, Allan, here am I, buying the very house, the -very house, my boy, where my great-grandfather was under -gardener and my great-grandmother was lady's maid. -Wonderful, isn't it? Wonderful the way of things, Allan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonderful!" Allan said dreamily. "Very wonderful—the -way of things—Father——" He turned suddenly on -Sir Josiah, "This—this marriage of mine——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what about it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It—it must go on—there's no way——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah stared, his round face grew redder, it turned -purple. "Way," he shouted, "to what? Are you going to -kick against it now? Are you going to, to turn everything -down now? But—but you can't do it—you can't do it! If -you do I'll never forgive you, never to my dying day and -after and then—think of her ladyship—Lady Kathleen, do -you mean you want to back out of it, Allan, now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan did not answer, he stared out of the window, he did -not see the gloomy London Square, he saw a garden, sweet -with flowers and down the paved pathway a little maid with -sunkissed hair and eyes as blue as the Heavens came tripping -towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, Allan," she said, "my dear, I love you so!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan you—you can't do it!" Sir Josiah's old voice -trembled, he came and put a hand on Allan's shoulder. "It—it -isn't as if it was only a promise to me, to me now, it's a -promise to her, you can't shame and disgrace her—Lady -Kathleen—you can't—by—by Heaven you can't! Allan, -it isn't a thing that even I'd do, much less a gentleman like -you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand, father, I understand that, it—it must go -on, I shall not back out of it as you say—it shall go on!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" Sir Josiah said, "ah, a lady, an Earl's daughter, -Lady Kathleen Homewood of Homewood Manor, that sounds -good, Allan boy, eh? Sounds good, don't it? I can hear -myself saying it at the Club—my daughter-in-law, Lady -Kathleen Homewood! No, you can't back out of it now, -Allan, I'd never forgive you if you did—Besides, why should -you? Last night, you weren't against it, Allan——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Last night," Allan said, "last night——" he paused. -How far away seemed last night! Sir Josiah was watching -him anxiously and Allan smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I understand, it must go on now, but—last -night—was last night!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="kathleendo-you-remember"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"KATHLEEN—DO YOU REMEMBER?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My lady sat with her chin in her hand, her dressing -gown had slipped over the polished loveliness of her -white shoulders, on which the soft dark brown of her hair -fell in heavy glistening curls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had sat here for many minutes, her thoughts away -in the past. Now she stirred, she sighed a little, she roused -herself and laughed wearily, then reached out a white hand -and took a ring from the dressing table. A magnificent ring, -one of immense value, a ring worthy of her and of the man -who had put it on her finger, yet she doubted if Allan had -bought it. It looked in its ostentatious magnificence more -like his father, somehow, and she shivered suddenly and cast -the ring aside. And then laughed again a queer, uncertain, -trembling little laugh that might have sounded naturally -enough from the lips of a maiden of eighteen, but which came -a little oddly from the lips of a woman of twenty-eight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to-night her eyes were soft and misty. To-night -memory was there, tapping at the door of her soul. "You -can't shut me out," it seemed to say, "close the door, bolt it, -bar it against me, but you can't shut out memory, you never, -never can! Fight against me, but I am always here, always -ready to come to you—a chance word, a chance gesture, the -scent of a flower or a perfume, the music of an old song and -though you think you have locked the door against me, see -I am back again! Listen, even the ticking of the clock—the -little clock on your mantel. Kathleen, do you remember how -the clock ticked that night when you—you and he——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She threw out her hands suddenly, she rose, a tall, -queenly young figure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The past is past, is dead and will remain dead!" she said, -then she crossed the room, and very resolutely she unlocked -a drawer, from the drawer took a little steel japanned box, -she unlocked it and from it took a packet of letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Should she read them before she destroyed them? Should -she? No, and yet she hesitated—the strength and resolution -of a moment ago were gone, she sat down and toyed with -the ribbon that held the papers together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just for the last time," she said, "and then I shall -forget them utterly!" So she untied the ribbon and took the -letters one by one and read them and the misty look in her -eyes seemed to grow more soft and more gentle and there -came a sweet womanly tenderness to her lips that the world -until now had thought a little hard and contemptuous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Is there not some little packet of old letters jealously -hidden away in your possession? Haven't you treasured just one -or two? Open the packet with reverent fingers, touch them -gently, for here are holy things!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A child's unformed hand, the unsteady letters yet so neatly -and so carefully made. Can't you see him as he makes them? -that little chubby fist, that somehow cannot hold the pen in -just the way the master says it must be held.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Can't you see the little curly head leaning a little to one -side? Slowly he forms the great round "Os" and fashions -the long tailed "Ys" and does his honest best to keep them -fair and square upon the pencilled line that even now you -can see ruled faintly on the old paper?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A child's letter, a little odd glove, a lock of yellow hair, -his hair! Only these, but they bring back memories, don't -they? Do you remember—? Ah, can you forget? When -you held him so tightly in your arms that day—when he went -away for ever. Such a great strong fellow, so brave, so -confident of the future! How he looked into that future with -clear shining eyes, eyes that were unafraid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear, it is all right, I shall come back to you, safe and -sound!" So he said, and then the waiting, the agony of it, -the long suspense, the silence, the hourly prayers to Almighty -God that all might be well with him—and then—then the -news—that came at last!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all that you have now is the child's letter—the little -glove and the curl of yellow hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there are other letters, yours, Kathleen. I wonder did -he think when he wrote them ten long years ago that you -would be sitting here to-night reading them over yet once -again? I wonder, did he think that those letters of his could -bring the tears to your eyes, Kathleen? Did he dream when -in his eagerness and his passion and his love for you, as he -penned them, never weighing his words, only eager to pour -out his soul to you, that you would keep them and cherish -them all these years, Kathleen, only to destroy them at last?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unsteady writing fades and is gone. Your eyes -through a mist of tears see a young, ardent, boyish face, -you see eyes that plead and are filled with a hope that fights -valiantly against despair. Those hastily scrawled, passionate -words are as voices that come to you out of the past, -voices that remind you of how he loved you once—when -you were but eighteen!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There came from the little clock on, the mantel a whirring -sound, then it struck One—Two—She lifted her head for a -moment, there was a step on the stairs outside, her father -come home from the Club, he passed her door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A mist was before her eyes, the letters were all blurred -and indistinct, the writing—she could no longer see, yet, she -knew every word written there. How many times had she -read them over and over and yet over again!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what need to read them when, she knew them so well? -Would she ever forget them? So many pages, so closely -written and yet all that had been said, could have been said -in but three words, three short words, "I love you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she sat there with the letters all in a heap in her lap, -and her head bowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Memory—Memory was monarch of all to-night. Memory -ruled and reigned supreme.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night, do you remember, Kathleen? The night when -the raindrops pattered on the glossy leaves of the magnolia -that grew beneath your window? Do you remember how he -stood there looking up at you, the light from your lamp on -his face? Do you remember? And that day, the day you -met him by the end of the lane and put your hand in his and -went with him down the long road? Do you remember? -And then again——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She moved suddenly, she flung her head back, her face -was white and drawn and there was agony in her eyes. She -rose suddenly and thrust the letters into the empty grate, -she bent over them and struck a match and watched them -burn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, when the last was turned to grey and black -ash, she went back to the table and took up the great -expensive, glittering ring, the ring that represented more money -than He had ever owned. And so she turned it over and over -between her white fingers and laughed suddenly. But the -laughter was not good to hear.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="how-sir-josiah-opened-his-purse"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HOW SIR JOSIAH OPENED HIS PURSE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sir Josiah garaged his two thousand guinea car in -the old coach house of "The Fighting Cocks" Inn. He -ordered a sumptuous repast in that antique house of call, the -best and the oldest wines must be brought up from the -cellars for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A keen money getter, yet he was at heart a very generous -man. The respect, the bobbing curtseys, the doffed hats and -smiling faces here at Little Stretton delighted him. He -felt just a thrill of regret that he had bought the old place -for Allan rather than for himself. He had an idea that he -would make a far better and more imposing Lord of the -Manor than Allan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the City of London he was "somebody," but here in -little quiet out of the world Little Stretton, he was -"everybody."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Dalabey fawned on him, he fetched and carried, he -was hat in hand. A cunning, artful fellow Mr. Dalabey, -he sized Sir Josiah up, he called him "Squire," and Sir -Josiah glowed with satisfaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good feller, that Dalabey, a sensible man!" Sir -Josiah said to Allan, "a useful feller!" It puzzled the -Baronet that his son refused to accompany him on his many -trips to Little Stretton and Homewood. Allan went once, -and on that once he was moody and silent. While his father -stamped about the house and thrust the blade of his pen-knife -into suspicious woodwork, Allen held aloof, he went -out into the old garden by himself and stood staring at the -battered nymph, whose slim stone figure was reflected in the -dark pool. He sat down, on the old mossy stone seat in the -great circle about the sundial and stared at the weeds and -decay, and somehow the desolation of the place seemed to -creep into his heart. He was glad to get away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He loved his father, he knew what a fine old fellow he was -at heart, what noble and generous impulses he was capable -of. But to-day his father's loud self-confident voice, his -intense self-satisfaction, his huge importance, Dalabey's -servility all irked him. He was intensely glad to leave -Homewood behind him and thereafter he always found some -excuse that prevented him from accompanying Sir Josiah on -his many visits to Homewood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the Baronet came and gave his orders to Dalabey and -to the builders and decorators and the gardeners, and he -spent money like water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I do things, I don't half do things, eh Dalabey?" -Sir Josiah enquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, that you don't, Squire, beg your pardon, Sir Josiah!" -said Dalabey. "Never was such a free and open handed -gentleman, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your Mr. Van Norden wouldn't have done the thing in -such style, eh?" enquired Sir Josiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir, not to be thought of, not for a moment, Squire!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It meant thousands, yet what did thousands matter to Sir -Josiah with his hundreds of thousands? He spent and spent, -he was extravagant. Before, as he said himself, one could -say "Jack Robinson," he had an army of workpeople slaving -at the place, and he walked about the house and garden and -saw his men doing his work and drawing his pay, and for -the first time in his life he felt himself a really great man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And once—once his forebears had delved and dug this -very soil that was now his own! Once for a few miserable -shillings a week had they turned over the sweet brown earth -over which he was lord and master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In Little Stretton, in Homewood, at Bargate and Bushcorner, -and all the little villages round about, there were -smiling faces and curtseys for him and he was utterly -unconscious that one pair of blue eyes grew hard and bitter -and one red lipped mouth curled with contempt and dislike, -that in one soft little breast a usually tender little heart was -filled with hate for him. For this was the mab who had -bought "her" garden, and who was spoiling it, spoiling it -so that it would never, never again, be as it hud been. With -one wave of his thick hand he had banished all those dear -ghosts of the past who had been her friends, even more her -friends than the honest, red faced rustics who were very -much real flesh and blood, and who regarded her with -commiserating eyes as a "queer" maid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oozing satisfaction and gold, Sir Josiah was beloved of -everyone save of this unreasonable little maid, who hated his -jolly round red face and loathed the sound of his loud and -domineering voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get some of them old trees cut down and out of the way, -Dalabey, get all this tangle rooted out of it and get that wall -pointed, yes that's what it wants—pointing, make it look -smart—and Dalabey——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Squire?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How about some broken class along the top of the walls? -We don't want people climbing over and trespassing, Dalabey!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, Squire, broken glass!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So on moonlight nights broken glass, securely set in -cement, glittered and twinkled like a line of frost along the -top of the walls and the little maid looked at it with bursting -heart and a terrible sense of loss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very sullen, not to say quiet, my granddarter du be -getting," said Mrs. Hanson to Mrs. Colley, her neighbour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maids du get that way," said Mrs. Colley. "'Tis a home -of her own her be pining for—gone eighteen your maid be, -Mrs. Hanson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone eighteen Feb'ry last," said Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then time it is her was married and in a home of her -own, with, things to look after to keep her hands and her -mind full! Marriage be the right and proper and nat'ral -thing for young maids of her years——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And her not wanting for chances," said Mrs. Hanson; -"why she hev but to hold up her finger and there be a -dozen ready to run to she!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Colley wagged her head. "And who be they?" she -asked jealously, for she had a granddaughter of her own -who was as yet unappropriated. "There be Tom Spinner, -who du be spending his evenings in the bar of the Three -Ploughs, and Bob Domer, a nice ne'er-do-well he, and -young Frank Peasgood as du make eyes at every maid he -sees. Why I did order him the door myself when he would -have come a-courting my 'Lizbeth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And there be Abram Lestwick," said Mrs. Hanson, "who -be a fine and proper young man, reg'lar to Church, one as -walks in fear of the Lord and no beer drinker, nor smoker -neither, and a steady worker with a nice cottage of his -own, and standing high with Farmer Patcham. Aye, there -be Abram Lestwick as would kneel down and kiss the very -floor my maid treads on!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Colley sniffed. She had had designs on Abram -Lestwick herself for her 'Lizbeth, but Abram had always -stolidly passed her inviting door by and never had be given a -second glance to sallow faced, black haired, shrewish tempered -'Lizbeth Colley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too mysterious he be and too quiet and sullen like, I -count him, for a young man. I like young men as enjoys -life, not such as walks about with a book in his pocket and -scarce ever takes his eyes from the ground. Fair and square -and open I du like young men to be, Mrs. Hanson, and as for -your Abram Lestwick, I give him to you, I du!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very gen'rous you be, givin' what bain't yours to give!" -said Mrs. Hanson with spirit; "and thank you kindly, I be -sure, Mrs. Colley!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they parted, not the best of friends, but into -Mrs. Hanson's mind had come an image of Betty settling down -with Abram Lestwick as her partner, and that same evening -she opened fire on Betty with:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very proper young man be Abram Lestwick, a pity -'tis there bain't a few more like he!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty made no answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And very frequent he du pass this cottage, whiles round -by Perry's medder be the nearest and nighest way for he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what about Abram Lestwick, Grandmother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I du believe, Betty, he hev serious intentions," said the -old lady, "and a nice little cottage, well furnished and steady -money coming in, not less than thirty-five shillings every -week, as would make a maid happy and comfortable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty sprang to her feet, her face flushed, her eyes seemed -to dart points of light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do 'ee mean, Grandmother? Be 'ee goading I to -marry Abram Lestwick? Do 'ee want to get rid o' I, is that -it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me, my maid, what tantrums 'ee do fly into!" cried -the astonished old body. "Wherever did 'ee get thy temper -from I don't know, a peaceful soul thy mother was and thy -father being my own son, was as easy a man as ever trod -and here be 'ee, my maid, with a hot temper, of which I be -ashamed, and down on your knees and ask God to forgive 'ee -and make a better maid of 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shan't!" said Betty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson rose: "'Tis the first time as ever 'ee said -shan't to me, Betty Hanson, and after this I be determined -and my mind be made up—marry Abram Lestwick 'ee shall!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or out through that door do 'ee go, never was there a -maid so bad and so ungrateful as 'ee be. Go to your room -and consider of things, Betty Hanson, till 'ee be come to a -better frame of mind!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="confidences"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CONFIDENCES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Sir Josiah had enquired of Mr. Dalabey how -long it would take to put Homewood into the order -in which he desired to see it, Mr. Dalabey had scratched his -head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three months, maybe four, and I shouldn't he s'prised, -seeing how powerful a lot there du be to du, no I shouldn't -be s'prised, Squire, if it warn't five months, aye, all five -months I should say it would be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, listen to me, Dalabey," said Sir Josiah, "two -months I say, and not a minute longer, two mouths I give -you and if the last workman isn't out of the house and the -last bit of timber and papering and what not in and done -with, the garden straight and all the rest of it, then I'll get -someone else to do my work for me, Dalabey!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Har!" said Dalabey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it's not money I'm stinting you of, my man, get -twenty more men at work on the place, I don't care, get as -many as you can handle, but two months is the time I give -you and then I clear you all out, lock, stock and barrel. -So get busy, Dalabey my man, if you wish to remain in my -good graces."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dalabey got busy. He hired more painters and carpenters -and joiners, more labourers and gardeners, stone masons and -brick layers till Homewood was given over to a small -industrial army, of which Dalabey was the indefatigable -general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no slacking at Homewood, Dalabey saw to that, -he was here, there and everywhere. He himself was doing -very well, he had no cause to complain, he charged his own -time very handsomely and there were other pickings -besides. But he worked, he was honest at least in that, and -he made the others work. A week did wonders, a fortnight -shewed an amazing change, at the end of the first month -Sir Josiah nodded approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Getting to be something like shipshape, Dalabey," he -said. "And you got talking to me about five months, here -we ain't been five weeks on the job and look you——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You be right, Squire, and I were wrong," said Dalabey -humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In one thing at least Dalabey was to be highly complimented. -He was out to "restore" the old place, to make it -look as nearly like it had been in the time of the Elmacotts -as possible. He introduced no newfangled ideas and -innovations, no modern improvements, except of course the power -plant and the dynamo and the huge collection of storage cells -which were to light the old house with electricity. Except -for the electric lighting outfit, the old house was to look -so like its old own and original self that had an eighteenth -century Elmacott come to life and walked in through the -hall door, he would not have been in the least surprised by -anything he saw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the garden Dalabey had a very able lieutenant in old -Markabee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Restore," said Dalabey, "find out all the lines of the old -beds and borders and replace 'em, clean up the stone work, -but not too much. You got to remember, Markabee, as time -du meller things, an old garden this be and an old garden it -hev got to remain, mark that, Markabee. It have got to look -like, so be as if a gentleman in powdered wig and silk -stockings and maybe a sword at his side were to come strolling -down yon path, a-taking snuff out of his box and walking -with a lady in hoops, Markabee, and patches and her hair all -done high and whitened, as—as you wouldn't take, it to be -the Fifth of November, Markabee, you get the hang of my -meaning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I du!" said Markabee, and he did his work well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Inch by inch the old ground was reclaimed, the old yew -hedge was clipped and trimmed, till it began to assume a -faint suggestion of its once fanciful shape, the grass was -scythed and weeded and patched and rolled and mowed. The -weeds were torn up from the crevices in the old pathway of -stone, but Markabee was artist enough to leave many a -flower blooming where perhaps a flower should not have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stonemasons and the rest would have pulled down and -replaced the little stone nymph, but Dalabey ordered them off -sternly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You leave yon maid alone, her be in keeping wi' the old -place, her be! Too true some o' they weeds might be cleared -off the pond, Markabee, but there be a line beyond which no -one must go, so let the stone maid bide!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the little nymph was left in her old place, and the -sunlight kissed her white stone shoulders, and dappled the -slender little stone body with splashes of vivid brightness, -and, little by little, the old garden came back to its own -again. The weeds were all gone and the flowers bloomed, -and the June sunshine and the June showers made the -grass green and pleasant to the sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile Allan stayed away; he was in London and his -time was not unpleasantly employed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was too healthy and too young to brood over what after -all had been merely a dream. It had been wonderfully real -and wonderfully tender and beautiful while it had lasted. -He had come back to reality with a sense of loss and a -heartache for the little maid who had looked at him with such -love in her blue eyes, who had put her arms about, his neck -and called him her dear and kissed his eyes. Very, very -real it had been and for many a day and many a night he -could not put it out of his memory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this was to-day and there was all the world about -him and he was to be married to a girl who was beautiful -and good, and for whom he felt a liking and admiration that -bordered on real affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most of all he felt sorry for her, why he hardly knew, -sometimes when she did not know that he was looking at her, -there was a sadness about her eyes, a sad pensive little droop -to her lips, which was gone all in a moment if he spoke to -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a very comfortable understanding between them. -They were going to be man and wife very soon, in the natural -course of events they would have to live their lives together. -They were beginning that life with mutual regard, liking and -friendship. Love and passion were entirely absent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am old, Allan," Kathleen said, "much, much older than -you dear, in every way, not only in years, but——" she -paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In suffering and knowledge!" she might have said, but -did not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will never be old, I think," he said, he took her -hand. "Kathleen, we understand one another. I—I'm a -clumsy fellow, clumsy and slow of speech. I belong to a -different world from yours!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not going to apologise for my people, for in my -heart I am proud of them. They were nothing and nobodies -and they have made a place for themselves in the world—I -love my father, honour and respect him, though I know, I -know that you in your heart cannot like him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father is kind and generous, mine cynical and -selfish, I think that you are richer in this matter than I am, -Allan, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the first night of a new play. London was still full, -the season had not waned, the new play was dull and -lifeless, the audience was yawning consumedly. These two had -retired to the back of the box which Lord Gowerhurst had -quitted just now and found more interest in discussing their -own affairs than in following the fortunes of the characters -on the boards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen was looking wonderfully, regally beautifully -to-night, and Allan was looking—what he was—an honest, clean -living, stalwart young Englishman, whose dress clothes sat -well on his shapely body. Son of the people he might be, -but he was not a man to feel shame for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not disguise anything from myself, Allan, nor from -you. I want to feel that you are my friend, that you are -the friend I can come to and open my heart and speak to -plainly as I might to one who is truly and indeed my friend!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pressed her hand by way of answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've wanted this opportunity to speak to you, it has come -unexpectedly, but I shall speak now," she paused. "Our -marriage was only a bargain, a very sordid bargain, and -it—it hurt me at first, it hurt me a great deal. I—I hated -myself, despised myself for agreeing to it, but since then, -since I have come to know you better and understand you -better, Allan, I think we can make something more of our -lives than most others similarly placed might. I do not love -you, my dear, and I know that you do not love me—No, -don't speak yet, Allan, let me say what I have to say! -Years ago there was someone—I was scarcely more than a -child and I loved him very, very truly, very deeply. He was -poor and so was I, marriage was impossible. He—went, -away, I have never seen him since and I shall never see him -again—the night we became engaged—you and I—I burned -his letters. It hurt a little, Allan, but I did it, dear, -because I want to come to you without a secret on my soul. I -want to lay my heart bare to you. I want to look you in the -face, to take your hand, knowing that I am keeping nothing -back from you, knowing there is no secret that might lead to -bitterness and anger and perhaps even to dislike. Though -I feel very, very old sometimes, Allan, I know that I am -young yet; we are both young, there are many years before -us in the natural course of events. All those years we must -spend together, so we will be truthful and frank and honest -with each other and keeping our own self-respect, dear, we -shall keep our respect for one another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a good, sweet, woman, Kathleen!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed a little, very softly, "And you, Allan, have -you nothing to tell me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing!" he said, yet hesitated and smiled to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think there is something——" she said, "was there -never even for a little while, someone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said, "a girl who called me her dear, who looked -at me with loving tender blue eyes, who put her arms about -my neck and kissed me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Allan, and yet——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait!" he said, he smiled, he still held her hand. "To -me she was the most wonderful, the most lovely thing I ever -saw, I loved her with all my heart——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen would have drawn her hand away, gently, yet -have drawn it away, but he, smiling down at her, would not -let the little hand go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she was not real, she was only a dream maiden. I -never thought to tell anyone, Kathleen, but will you listen -to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, still holding her hand, he told her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was a very wonderful dream, Allan," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a very wonderful dream, and when I looked about -me and saw all the weeds and the desolation, then I felt as -if I had lost something—as if——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand!" she said. She was pensive and thoughtful. -"What can it mean? Why should such a dream be sent -to you? There was some meaning behind it, something—I -wish I knew!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was only a dream, and I am trying to forget it, -perhaps I have nearly forgotten it—the sense of loss is passing -away—not quite——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him. "It will never quite pass, I think," -she said. "Allan," she hesitated, "Allan, if—if it ever -became real, if someone else, someone who awakened your -heart ever came into your life——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should remember that you are——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, listen, I want you to promise me something, to -promise me on your honour, and I know that I can trust -that—if such a thing comes to you, if the real love that may -come that comes into nearly every man's life does come—Allan, -will you tell me, frankly, as one friend to another, -will you tell me, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promise," he said, "and you, Kathleen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It—it came—it can never come again—I was only a -child, but he was all my world. I have never seen him -since and shall never see him again——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if you did—then will you tell me, will you be less -frank with me than I with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" she said. "I will tell you, I promise, if—but it -never, never will, still, if—if it should—then I promise, -always we will be frank with one another!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Always!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Gowerhurst opened the door of the box and closed it -very softly behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he said, "quite so; you are wise, the play is not the -thing—it is rubbish—I am sorry for the author, I am sorry -for the management, but as usual I am sorry most of all for -myself. You two young people have something more -interesting to discuss. I don't blame you! No, hang me, I -don't blame you! Now I'll confess, I met Lumeyer, an -excellent fellow, one who knows of good things, he put me on -to one 'The Stelling Reef Gold Mine,' shares bound to go up. -I've a good mind to have a flutter. By the way, Allan, -where's your father? Our worthy and excellent Baronet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan flushed. He always did when his Lordship spoke -of his father. Unintentional it might be, but there was -always a suggestion of a sneer in the cultivated voice of the -man whose pockets were at this moment supplied with the -Baronet's money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father is at Little Stretton to-day and staying over -night, he is very busy down there at Homewood, sir, our—my—our -future home—he takes a great interest in it and is -doing the place up thoroughly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An excellent man, you're lucky to have such a father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never lose sight of that fact, my lord!" Allan said -gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right, quite right—would to Heaven——" his -lordship said tragically, "would to Heaven Kathleen could say -the same! She can't, she can't, sir, too deuced honest to tell -lies! She is like her sainted Mother! Bless me this drivel -doesn't seem to be shaping for a finish. Supposing we clear -out, eh? What about a snack of supper at Poligninis?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen rose, "I would prefer to go home," she said, "I -am tired to-night!" She looked at Allan, her eyes were very -bright, very kind and friendly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear child," said his lordship, "at Poligninis they -have some eighty-seven Heidsick, which I regard practically -as my own property. It is never offered to casual customers. -Polignini is an excellent fellow who appreciates my taste and -keeps it for me," he paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am tired and I shall go home!" Kathleen said briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will see you home!" Allan said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship shrugged his shoulders. "So be it, I will go -to my lonely caravanserie and a frugal meal. I'm an old -fellow, an old fellow, I realise that youth must be served!" He -waved a white hand. "Youth, youth!" he said. "How -lightly we hold it when it is ours, how we even resent it, and -how, when it is lost to us forever, do we worship and yearn -and long for it. Oh the happy, goutless indigestionless days -of our long since fled youth, how precious they were! And -how ill spent! Give me my lost youth back again, as I think -it was Faust, remarked, and what would I do with it? I am -afraid, my dears, I would do with it exactly as I did with it -before. We never learn wisdom! Adieu mes enfants, bon -repos, my Kathleen! May angels guard thee and bring happy -dreams! Allan, dear lad, good night, my respectful -compliments to the Baronet, an old man, my dears, and a lonely; -I realise that youth is impatient of garrulous though well -intentioned age! Good night once again!" He waved his -hand and the box door closed on him, he was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen sighed a little, she looked at Allan with a queer -smile on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I think Allan," she said, "you are more fortunate -than I, and now, dear, I am tired, I am going home—to -bed!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-sir-josiah-proves-himself-a-gentleman"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH SIR JOSIAH PROVES HIMSELF A GENTLEMAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>St. George's, Hanover Square, had always been at -the back of Sir Josiah's mind. His lordship had -favoured St. Margaret's, Westminster. July was nearly out, -London was emptying, if not emptied of people who really -count, which was a great disappointment to Sir Josiah. But -Homewood was nearly complete, the old gentleman walked -through the transformed and glorious rooms, he looked -through sound windows into a garden that was a delight to -see with never a weed to mar its perfection. He took -Montague Davenham, the celebrated art dealer, down with him to -see the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you are, you ought to have seen it two months ago, -you'd never believe, a ruin it was!" said Sir Josiah. "Fairly -hopeless it looked, said I, keep to the old lines! It's an -old house and you've got to make it look like an old house, -but a well kept one, renew and restore! If you take away a -piece of old moulding that's gone rotten, put back a new -piece shaped the same, nothing new, that was my instructions, -and they have carried 'em out, and now the rest's up to you, -Mr. Davenham. I don't pretend to know what I don't know. -But I do know this, that if you were to put say bamboo -furniture and Japanese fans and umbrellas in this here old room -with that ceiling and them panelled walls, why they'd be -out of place, you wouldn't go and make a mistake like that! -I've got money, I don't deny, and this house has been a bit -of a hobby with me. I want to see it looking like it should -look, so just take a look round, make up your mind and put -the right stuff into it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear sir, if every rich man were as wise as you, the -world would certainly look a great deal more pleasant than -it does. The house will form an admirable setting for -furnishings of the right period. I compliment you on the -manner in which the work has been done. I couldn't have done -it better myself, the garden in particular is delightful, -simply delightful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Markabee here, done it, under Dalabey, a useful man. -Dalabey, I don't know what I'd done without him, but it's -ready for you now. Mr. Davenham, get ahead, get the place -fixed up as it should be, the right furniture, the right -decorations. Keep the price reasonable, I don't say stint, nor I -don't say launch out too wildly. I leave it to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a commission that I accept with a great deal of -pleasure. I think and hope that I shall please you and at a -not too terrible expenditure!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get ahead with it!" Sir Josiah said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fine feller Davenham!" he said to Allan. "Knows his -business; one thing you'll have a house that you needn't -be ashamed to shew to anyone, a fit setting, my boy, a fit -setting for a very sweet and lovely young lady, bless her -heart, and a lucky fellow you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To have such a father!" Allan said, in all honest sincerity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless you, bless you, it's been a pleasure, I don't know -when I've put myself heart and soul into a thing like I've -done into this! I'm almost sorry I've put it in Davenham's -hands now, but then he knows what's right and I don't. -Now about the wedding, Allan! His lordship and me was -talking last night. Something about St. Margaret's, -Westminster, he said. 'I beg your pardon, my lord,' I said. -'St. Georges, Hanover Square, if you don't mind.' I've set my -heart on it, Allan; I always had an idea I'd like you to be -married at Hanover Square; there's something solid about the -very name of it, right down respectable!" he paused. "Then, -for the reception afterwards, I'm for taking the Whitehall -Rooms at——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, I want to speak to you!" Allan said. "I—I hate -to disappoint you, but in this matter I think the first -person to be considered is Kathleen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me, and so it is! What she says goes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She wishes the wedding to be very quiet, very quiet -indeed; she wants only our own selves there, my father and -hers and no one besides!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—why, bless me, bless my soul! You don't mean -to say——" Sir Josiah's face was almost pitiful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She asked me last night, she begged me to side with her -and uphold her wishes and I promised. I—I know, father, -it's a disappointment to you, but we can't go against her, -can we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, we can't go against her, that's right, right enough, -no we can't go against her—never think of such a thing, I -wouldn't, but I'd a thought that a young girl with all her -friends would have liked——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It cannot be too quiet for her! And I promised to speak -to you about it. Her father is very angry, unnecessarily -angry, he spoke to her sharply, almost rudely in my presence -last night, in a way——" Allan paused, "that my father -would not have spoken to a woman!" he added proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah gripped Allan's hand. "You—you're right, the -little girl shall have her way, tell her; give her my love, -Allan, and tell her what she says goes. As for his Lordship, -his Lordship can—can go to the Dickens——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan smiled. "I think his Lordship has been making for -that quarter all his life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a bitter blow to the Baronet, but he took it like a -man. He had counted on a gorgeous spectacle, for which he -had been very willing to find the money. He had counted -on portraits of the bride and bridegroom and bridegroom's -father, to say nothing of the bride's father in the fashionable -illustrated papers, as well as the daily illustrated press. He -had cut out paragraphs from the </span><em class="italics">Times</em><span> and the </span><em class="italics">Morning -Post</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"A marriage has been arranged between Mr. Allan -Homewood, only son of Sir Josiah Homewood, Bart., of -Homewood, Sussex, and the Lady Kathleen Nora Stanwys, only -daughter of the Earl of Gowerhurst."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He had cut out these news items and carried them about -with him and shewn them to Jobson and Cuttlewell and -Smith and Priestly (of Priestly, Nicholson and Coombe), -and others of his City cronies. How proud he had been of -them, how he had beamed and swelled with pride! He had -hinted that he might ask—might possibly—ask Priestley and -the rest to witness the ceremony. It had not been an actual -promise, but next door to it, made by him in a moment of -joyous enthusiasm following a good lunch and a bottle of -excellent port.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the marriage was to be a small quiet affair, it -was a blow, but he took it like a man! He sought out -Kathleen, he took her hand and held it in his moist palm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, Allan's told me, he says you're all for a quiet -wedding; well I did reckon on something a bit slap up and -stylish and like that, but if you're set on a quiet wedding, -my dear——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am, I want it very much, Allan understands," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, bless you, my dear, so it shall be, as quiet as you -like! It's for you to say, what you say goes with me, -Allan told you, that's right—why tears—my dear? Tears! -Bless me, my lady, my dear, don't cry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are very good to me, now I understand why Allan is—is -what he is, the fine man he is! He is like his father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like—like me—bless my soul, Allan like me, my love! -My lady I mean—I'm a common old chap! Allan's a gentleman, -I made up my mind I'd do my best for him and I done -it—I'm what I am, my King, God bless him, saw fit to make a -"Sir" of me, but that don't make a gentleman of me, my -dear, and I know it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am going to be frank with you, truthful," Kathleen -said. "I am going to—to hurt you perhaps, and then I am -going to try and make amends for it—" She paused. "When -my father first spoke of my marriage, my marriage with -Allan, I shuddered at the thought of it—not because of -Allan, but because of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know, I know," he said sadly. "I ain't everyone's -money, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, listen, I looked down on you. I thought you were -vulgar and purseproud and boastful, and, oh, I thought a -thousand evil things of you and pretended to shudder when -your name was mentioned!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, I know, I know; don't, tell me more—I know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I am going to tell you more, I am going to tell you -this!" She caught his hand and held it. "It isn't what you -have given and what you are giving us, it isn't money—oh -you know that, don't you? I was wrong, wrong all the -time! I know you better now and I like and respect you -and I envy Allan his father—yes, envy him his father and -so I have told him and—please kiss me because I am going -to be your daughter, aren't I? And because I want you to -like me and be my friend!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God bless me!" he said. "God bless my—oh, my lady, -my, my dear—Kiss you? I'd be proud and happy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed a little, she held up her face, there were tears -on her lashes. "Then kiss me, Allan's father!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Lord had counted on an expensive and fashionable -wedding, even more than Sir Josiah had. He had specially -ordered a frock coat of a peculiar and delicate shade of -grey, which would become him handsomely. That he would -easily outshine everyone present he knew with certainty. -He would give his daughter away, everyone would remark -on his appearance, the exquisite sensibility that would mark -his every action. They would not compare him with the -Baronet, it was no question of comparison. People would -see with their own eyes how immeasurably superior he was -to Sir Josiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That the limelight would be mainly on himself, His Lordship -had decided. He had even rehearsed the part he would -play. He would be the tender, loving father, heart-broken -and bereaved at losing his darling child, and yet he would -bear up bravely, carry himself proudly, with a touch of -tender gaiety. His speech at the reception he had written -and re-written—and now he was in a furious passion, -shaking with rage, he sought out Kathleen and swore -viciously at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What devil's tomfoolery is this?" he shouted. "What -new pose have we here? What's this confounded rotten, -absurd business about, a twopenny ha'penny housemaid's -wedding, hey? Haven't I asked, unofficially of course, but -asked all the same a hundred people? Haven't Bellendon -and the Cathcarts and—and George Royhills and his wife -practically delayed their departure from Town for this -wedding, and now—now what rotten nonsense have you got in -your head now, hey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She eyed him steadily. "Please don't swear at me, -father?" she said. "There is no need. I asked Allan——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Asked Allan, hang and confound Allan! Ain't I anyone? -Don't I count? I'm only your father! Haven't I -planned this for you, haven't I cherished the idea of making -you a rich woman, haven't I——?" He paused, floundering -wildly in his fury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I asked Allan to humor me, I wanted a very quiet wedding, -he was quite willing, as eager as I almost. He spoke -to his father and his father has agreed——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His father! that confounded old City shark, that -common, vulgar old brute, who—who——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whom you are very pleased and glad to take money -from, who has treated me with every kindness and respect -and gave way at once to my wishes, though they were opposed -to his own. Yes, a common old man, but generous and kind -and good and—and I could wish, I could wish that my -father was as fine a gentleman!" And with a stately curtsey, -she left him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'll be damned!" His Lordship said in utter -amazement.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-hands-of-abram-lestwick"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HANDS OF ABRAM LESTWICK</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You've got my wishes, Abram, you have!" said Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded. "I know," he said gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram Lestwick was of that curious, foreign type that -one comes on unexpectedly in our English country villages. -He was about thirty-two years of age, five feet nine in height -and of a strong wiry build. His complexion was swarthy, the -skin sallow and drawn with a strange suggestion of -tightness, over the high and prominent cheek bones. The eyes -were small, black and very bright and deeply set beneath -heavy brows. No razor had ever touched the lower part of -his face, which was covered with a thin and straggling -growth of coarse black hair, that could scarcely be described -as a "beard," for so thinly and far apart did the hairs grow -that the contour of a weak chin was clearly visible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The whole appearance of the man suggested nervous unquiet -and restlessness, which particularly found expression -in the constant agitation of his hands. He had a restless, -nervous habit of fingering things within his reach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment he was sitting on the one "easy" chair -at Mrs. Hanson's little parlour. He had dragged down the -antimacassar that usually adorned the chair back and was -plucking at the threads and rolling the edge of it into a -tight curl. Mrs. Hanson watched his face; she did not look -at his hands. There was something hateful about Abram -Lestwick's hands, the fingers were long, flexible and thin, -save at the ends, where they suddenly thickened out and -flattened in a strange, unsightly manner. But it was their -restlessness, their never ceasing movement that was so -remarkable. Never for a moment were they still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson, favouring the young man, yet knew she -hated his hands!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel, I du," she said to herself, "as I want to scream -if I set and watch them, but I du know he be a good man -and a hard worker, with no love for the alehouse and reg'lar -to Church and like to make Betty a good husband, and after -all, what du a man's hands matter? So be as he du work -with them and earn his living honourable and upright in the -state of life which it du please God to call him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got your wishes, I hev," he said, "I know that, but -what be the use of your wishes to me, Mrs. Hanson, so I -haven't got Betty's liking?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mustn't take too much notice of the maid; maids be -strange and fickle things, aye and vain they be! The man -as praises a maid to her face and tells her she be nice looking -be the one as goes best with they!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do 'ee want I to do?" he said sullenly. "I know -there beain't a maid to compare wi' Betty, there beain't one -as be fit to tie her shoes!" A dull red crept into his checks, -his voice shook, his fingers worked more nervously and more -rapidly at the destruction of the antimacassar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Slow of speech I be," he said thickly, "and difficult it du -be for me to find words—there be a thousand things I would -say to she—they be here all in my brain, but my tongue -won't utter them! I—I try—" he paused, choking, "I try, -I look at she dumblike and stupid and knowing it, aye, curse -it, knowing it!" His voice rose, he wrenched at the -antimacassar, he tore a piece away; his fingers were hideous to -see at this moment and Mrs. Hanson looked resolutely at -his face. Yet she was all the time conscious of the havoc -his fingers were making.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do 'ee think I don't want to tell she? I du! I du, I -try to, but my tongue won't do me sarvice. I love her!" He -paused. "I love her!" He said it again. "Love her, -I mean to tell her, yet like as not her'll laugh at me!" He -stood up, he flung the antimacassar to the floor, his hands -worked up and down his coat, tearing and fingering at the -buttons and the buttonholes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There bain't a maid in all the world like she, not a man -fit to kiss the grounds she treads on. If a man, a man in -this village did look at she wi' harmful eyes, I'd kill -him!" He nodded. "Kill him!" He said. "I'd get my hands -on his throat and never let go! Sometimes when I think -of her I feel that I be going mad like, I see red—red passion -before my eyes. I tell 'ee, Mrs. Hanson, ma'am, I've got -your wishes, I know, I know! But I must hev that maid; -no one else shall, as God hears me, no one else shall!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went to the door, swinging his arms violently, his -fingers clenched and unclenching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got your wishes, I hev, I'm glad of them, ma'am. -I thank 'ee, I du—your good wishes, Ma'am, and I be -obliged greatly, I be—and—please don't mind my tempers! -'Tis thinking of the maid makes me so; a peaceful man I -be, and begging your pardon, Ma'am, that I did forget myself, -but 'tis thinking of the maid that—that drives me like -you see me, Ma'am! But I beg your pardon I du, most -politely!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was gone and Mrs. Hanson sighed and stooped and -picked up from the ground the work of her own busy fingers—and -his! She sighed again, looking at the destruction of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A terribul man he be—in his wrath, fit to kill anyone -belike!" she said. "All tore it be, all tore and wrenched -and broke apart—powerful fingers he must hev! Ill would -it go wi' man or maid that angered he and did him hurt!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down the road in a tempest of passion went Abram -Lestwick, swinging his arms and muttering to himself like a -madman, and yet at Farmer Patchams, where he worked, -they counted him as a man of an even and equable temper. -A foreman, he never cursed and swore at those under him. -Little things moved him not; his grim, glum, gloomy face -never darkened with rage. A polite tongue he had, though -a slow one, a steady man and quiet, and yet he himself knew -of the tempest of unbridled passion, the mad tumult that -his brain was capable of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rarely did his passions master him before others. They -had to-night, before Mrs. Hanson, but he had her wishes, -he was safe with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If any man did look at she wi' wishful eyes," he -repeated, "by God's Heaven I would kill him!" He clenched -at the air with his nervously working hands. "Get my hands -on his throat and kill him, grip and crash it till the life were -gone out o' he, I would!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped suddenly, bathed in perspiration, but the fury -gone. She stood before him in the gloaming of the evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I be come from your house, Betty," he said, and his voice -was mild as a voice may be. "A pleasant half hour I did -have along wi' your grandmother, Betty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope 'ee enjoyed yourself, Abram," she said with a -little contemptuous laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, I did in a way, for I were talking about 'ee, Betty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She frowned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty!" He felt as if he were suddenly choking, he -lifted those working, restless hands of his to his own throat. -They made as to tear open his shirt, so that he might breathe -the more freely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, do 'ee know what I and your grandmother were -talking about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I doan't and I bain't curus to hear!" she said. She made -to pass him, but he held his ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twere about 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then 'twere nothing good," she said. "My left ear were -burning cruel and now I know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty," he said, "wait, 'ee shall, 'ee shall I say, wait, -there's summut I must say to 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me—pass!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no." He caught her by the arm and held her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, I du love 'ee so, I want 'ee to wife! If I don't -have 'ee no one else shall, no one, I swear! Look at me, -stubborn o' tongue I be—and difficult it be for me to speak -the words I want to say, but 'tis all in this: 'I love 'ee better -than life, better than death. I love 'ee mad; mad I be, I -tell 'ee wi' love for 'ee! My maid, I'd die for 'ee and live -for 'ee and kill they as come between us! Betty, Betty, -give yourself to me—to—cherish—" He paused, the words -of the marriage service came to him uncertainly, "to hold and -to keep, to cherish until death us du part. Give yourself to -me, for never and you go through the whole world will 'ee -find a man as loves 'ee half so well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bain't a marrying maid!" she said. "And I'll not -marry 'ee or anyone else and 'ee last and leastest of all, -Abram Lcstwick. I'll never marry 'ee, never, never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I swear by Heaven 'ee shall!" he cried. His fingers -were at work on her arm, she felt and hated the touch of -them. Hateful fingers—long and sinuous, with their horrible, -spatulated tips, they reminded her of writhing snakes, -with their venomous, flattened heads, just that! She tried -to break away from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A great coward 'ee be, to so beset a maid. I hate 'ee, -I du. Let me be, let me be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll never let 'ee be, for I du love 'ee mad, mad," he cried, -"and 'ee shall never belong to anyone else, never and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she broke from him, she lifted her strong young -arm and smote him across the face with all her strength. -Abram Lestwick fell back apace, his sallow skin went deathly -white, he stood and stared at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee, 'ee made me du it!" she panted. "I—I had to du -it, Abram, I didn't mean it, I be sorry in my heart, I did -strike 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he said nothing, he only looked at her, then without -a word turned and walked away down the road and she -stood looking after him. Even now she could see the -restless, nervous working of his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate—hate and I be afeared o' him tu!" she said. "I -be terribul afeared o' him!" She broke down, sobbing and -crying. "'Tisn't fair as a maid should be so bothered as -I be! I don't want to marry anyone, leastest of all he, for -I du hate him most mortally, I du!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her grandmother was waiting for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did 'ee see Abram Lestwick down the road?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, I did see him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't he speak to 'ee, tell 'ee his mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he did and—and I hate him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hate?" said Mrs. Hanson. "Still filled wi' hate, 'ee be, -which bain't seemly in a young maid! What wi' your hating -first this one and then t'other, fair fed up I be wi' your -hates, my maid, and 'tis time to put a stop to all such -nonsense! Abram Lestwick hev been wi' me to-night and -talking wi' me he hev been, and about you—moreover. And he -be willing to marry 'ee and a good match it'll be, my maid, -which Mrs. Colley have been angling for for that putty-faced -'Lizbeth o' hers, though Abram would never look twice at -she. But 'tis you he be after, an upright, godly young man -with thirty-five shillings a week and a cottage and all, and -a rare chance for the likes of 'ee, Betty Hanson, wi'out a -shillin' to your name!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate him and I'll never, never marry him; I hate him -and am afeared of him as well! And sooner than marry he -I'd go and drownd myself in the river, aye, that, I would, -and that I will, for marry him I never will!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what 'ee say, but hark to me, marry him I say 'ee -shall and I have told him, he has my wishes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A defiant white face, with big glittering eyes faced the -wrinkled, angry old face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drownd myself I will gladly and willingly afore I marry -he!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go 'ee in!" said Mrs. Hanson. "A perilous bad maid -'ee be and 'shamed of 'ee I be, and asking myself I be all -the time—Be this my son Garge's child, or be she a -changeling? For such temper no Hanson ever did hev yet—Go -'ee in, but mark this, marry him 'ee shall!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mark this!" Betty cried. "Marry him I never will! -I'll drownd myself first! Aye and blithely and gaily—for -I du hate and fear him more than any mortal man and -they fingers o' his that touched me—ugh! That touched me -and—" And then suddenly she broke down in a passion of -sobs and ran into the house.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-homecoming"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE HOMECOMING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sir Josiah was performing his last friendly offices. -Davenham had finished his part of the work and had -done it, as the Baronet knew he would, with a complete and -thorough knowledge and good taste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Who, to look about one now, seeing those beautiful rooms -with their exquisite furnishing, that garden, a thing of -delight and perfect beauty, could reconcile it all with the -desolate and derelict wilderness of a place it had been three -short months before?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like that there Van Norden, or whatever his name is, -to see it, I would!" Sir Josiah thought. "Hang me, I'd like -him to take a stroll around now! Them Americans are -smart and wonderful skilful, aye, and what's more a fine -nat'ral taste they've got, appreciating fine things and old -things more than we do! I say all that and admit all that, -but this here Van Norden, he couldn't have beat what I've -done in the time, he couldn't! He'd own it, too, for I've -yet to meet the American who wasn't frank to admit the -truth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah here was like a small king in great state. He -was to interview potential servants, advertisements appeared -in the London and the local papers, inviting cooks and -housemaids, parlourmaids, footmen, grooms, scullery maids, still -room maids and the like to present themselves at Homewood -Manor on a certain day, when all their expenses would be -paid by Sir Josiah Homewood, who would engage the most -suitable persons. His own man Bletsoe was here to do -honour to the occasion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many are there, Bletsoe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nine young women, three old ones, two fellers and an -old man as come about the gardener's place, only I understand -as you're keeping that old feller, old Markabee, Sir -Josiah!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right, keeping him on I am, a sensible man and -clever at his work, that garden's a credit to him! Old very -likely, but I've known men as weren't old, yet fools, Bletsoe!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, sir!" said Bletsoe. "And now about h'interviewing -'em?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah frowned to hide his nervousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many old ones did you say, Bletsoe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three, sir, and one of 'em with a wonderful fine -moustache as I ever see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's the money, take it and settle with them, mark -where they come from and look up the fares in the A.B.C., -Bletsoe, to see they don't cheat you, then give 'em five -shillings over and above. But pay 'em their fares right and -correct, not a penny more nor less, and Bletsoe, when I -say—ahem! like that, you'll know as that one's no good, you see!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was hard work and none too pleasant, but the house had -to be staffed. Allan and Lady Kathleen were married, they -were spending a brief honeymoon on the East Coast; they -would be back here soon to take possession and Allan's father -was resolved that when they came they would find -everything complete. Had not he himself pried in the store -cupboards, which Messrs. Whiteley had obligingly stocked at -his request? He had satisfied himself that everything -necessary was there, everything, that is, of an unperishable -nature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Salt and tea, sugar and pepper. He had been greatly -disturbed in his mind when he found that washing soda had been -overlooked and he had ordered a hundredweight forthwith. -And now he was engaging servants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am Sir Josiah Homewood, this house belongs to my -son, Mr. Allan Homewood, at present away on his -honeymoon with his wife, the Lady Kathleen Homewood, daughter -to the Earl of Gowerhurst. They are returning in a week -and I desire to have everything in readiness for them. What -might your age be and what are your references and who -were you with last? And why did you leave your last place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Begging your pardon, sir, my age, I respectfully beg -to say, I don't see hasn't nothing to do with the matter. As -for my references, here they are. I've lived in a Duke's -family and there's but little I don't know how to cook, even -to peacocks, I have cooked, sir, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless my soul, I didn't know people eat 'em!" said the -Baronet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only the best of the quality, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me, very well, hum, hah!" He looked through the -references, he made notes on a piece of paper. "Please settle -with this lady, Bletsoe, and give her, her out of pockets as -according to arrangement—a—hem!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so the fate of the lady with the moustache was sealed, -though she knew it not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty had heard of this reception that Sir Josiah was -holding to-day. Girls from Little Stretton, Bush Corner, -and even from Gadsover and Lindney, had come to offer -themselves for hiring. Betty hesitated, since that evening -when she had defied her Grandmother life had not been very -happy at Mrs. Hanson's little cottage. Should she go with -the rest and offer herself for service in the house? But -could she bear it, could she bear to see her own beloved -garden again as it was now, not as she remembered it? All -the dear trees cut down, or most of them, and hideous new -walls put up, and her little stone friend gone from the lake -and a great ugly stone fountain erected in her place, for so -she had heard. Could she bear to see it all as it was now?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, she could not, so she hesitated. The other girls went -and were engaged or not, as Sir Josiah decided, but Betty -did not offer herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For three days after that night when she had struck Abram -Lestwick in the face, she did not see him, but on the evening -of the fourth day he presented himself at the door of her -grandmother's cottage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said nothing of that last interview. His manner was -nervous and hesitating and without passion, his fingers -worked incessantly, toying and tearing at everything within -his reach. He sat upright on a horsehair-covered chair, -and tore little hairs out of the cloth all the evening. At a -quarter to ten he rose and took his hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll be wishing you good night, Mrs. Hanson, ma'am!" -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night, Abram, and always glad to see you," said -Mrs. Hanson heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank you, Ma'am, good night, Betty!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go to the door, my maid, and see Abram off the step," -said her grandmother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty hesitated, then went, with her red-lipped mouth -firmly compressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the step in the summer darkness Abram found his -tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" he said. "When is it to be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When be, what to be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our wedding?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't I tell 'ee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, but 'ee didn't mean it, besides I hev made up my -mind; when is it to be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!" she said. "Never, never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed softly to himself as she closed the door in his -face, but to-night there was no passion, no tempest within -him. He laughed again as he walked down the road in the -velvety blackness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were lights in the Old Manor House, unfamiliar -sight! He did not ever remember seeing lights there before -and strange lights they were, very bright and brilliant, and -so many of them. He stood still in the road and stared at -the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the little arched green door in the wall opened -and a woman scuttled out, carrying a bundle suspiciously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who be that? Law! How 'ee did frighten me!" she -panted a little with nervousness; perhaps that bundle had -no right to be in her arms. "Be it you, Abram Lestwick?" -she asked, peering into the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye!" he said briefly. "It be me all right, Mother -Colley. What be 'ee doing here to-night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis the young new Squire, the old man's son, come home -wi' his lady wife. I see her for a minute, Abram, and a -prettier creature I never set eyes on, so kind and smiling -her looks, too, and so mighty fond they du seem to be of -one another, arm in arm they was walking. 'Father,' he -were saying when I see him, 'Father have done wonders here, -Kathleen! You did ought to have seen the place no more -than four months ago. Father have worked wonderful, -terribul hard for we!' he said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" said Abram.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Mrs. Colley, nodding her head, "and she -wonderful sweet and dainty her looked, I tell 'ee, -Abram—'Wonderful kind and good he be, Allan,' she says. And, -Abram, why don't 'ee ever come in for a kindly cup o' tea -to our cottage? My maid 'Lizbeth continooally du ask me! -A clever maid her be wi' her fingers and a worker she, not -like someone as I could name, some as bain't too right in -their mind!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mention no names, Abram, only I say there be a kindly -welcome and a cup set for 'ee whenever 'ee do take the fancy -and now I must be getting along. A wonderful place they -hev made o' it, and oh! the money it hev cost! It fair sets -me wondering how there ever du be so much money in the -world!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if," Abram thought, "all the money in the world -were mine, I would lay it at Betty's feet!" So he went on -his way, for the man who rises at four in the morning must -to bed betimes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Allan had been in no hurry for the honeymoon to end. -Every day of their companionship added to his liking and -respect for Kathleen. Now that she was away from her -father, now that she had shaken herself free from the old -environment, she seemed to be a different woman. Her -laughter was more spontaneous; the sadness, for which in -his heart he had pitied her, was going, if not gone from her -eyes. She was a charming companion, her good temper and -entire unselfishness were never failing. What more could -a man ask?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had rather dreaded the honeymoon, and now had come -to realise that it formed the most pleasant period of his life. -But now that it had come to its end, he felt a strange -reluctance to go to Homewood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was young and healthy minded; for such a man to -brood over a dream or a vision was impossible. The effect -of that May day dream of his had well nigh worn away, the -vision of the girl who had come to him in the old garden -and kissed him had grown vague and shadowy. Like most -visions, it was slowly passing and presently, unless -something happened to revive it, it would pass into oblivion -altogether.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this return to Homewood would and must revive it -and bring back that day and all that had happened on that -day forcibly to mind once more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he asked himself, did he wish to be reminded? Was -he not well enough content with life as it was? He was -married to a girl for whom he felt a great liking, a growing -affection, and a respect, a woman whom he realised was the -sweetest and best woman he had ever known.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not her beauty alone that attracted him, yet he -could scarcely repress a thrill of pride of possession that -comes to many men when they realise the envy of others -and see the looks of admiration which were no more than -Kathleen's well deserved tribute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the honeymoon had been a very pleasant and happy -time. They were frank with one another, the best of friends. -They kissed one another with a quiet, undemonstrative affection -that was not feigned. There had not been one breath -to mar the perfect serenity of their lives. No foolish trumpery -quarrel, but always that complete understanding and good -faith that willingness to give and take unselfishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Are honeymoons always such a success? When the passionate -lovers are united at last and drive away radiant and -triumphant, amidst a shower of rice and good wishes, who -can tell what pitfalls her pretty little feet may trip into, -what obstacles he may go stumbling and floundering over? -They believed that they knew and understood one another -so well, all unconsciously perhaps they have kept up many -pretences, have only permitted one another to see the brighter -side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there is always the other and darker side, Romeo's -temper the first thing in the morning may not be everything -that is desirable. When Juliet finds that one of her dresses -does not fit her quite so well as it might, she must vent her -annoyance on someone—and there is only Romeo!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The good ship of matrimony has scarcely weighed anchor -and set sail and the Captain and the Mate have yet to learn -one another's characters, perhaps they have even to decide -who the Captain and who the Mate. There are many little -things to arrange, little difficulties to adjust. Happy they -who can do it all, with kindness and good temper, willing -to give freely and yet not asking for too much!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in the dusk of the late July evening that Allan -and Kathleen came to Homewood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the last day of Sir Josiah's reign, and never a -sovereign gave up his sceptre with better grace. How he -beamed, how he swelled with visible pride, how he dragged -them from room to room to see this and to see that!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There you are, my boy, what do you think of it? -Wouldn't know the place, would you? You'd 'a fallen -through this floor three months ago; look at it now!" And -the old gentleman jumped up and down to prove the soundness -of the joists and boards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my dear, and what do you think of it? Pretty, -ain't it? Davenham didn't let me down, there's nothing -like going to the right man! Davenham ain't cheap, but—" He -caught himself up, this was no time to talk of money -and money matters. He had spent freely and willingly. -Perhaps never before in his life had he spent quite so freely, -quite so willingly. There was a heavy bill to meet, but -what of that? He could meet it!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had picked up a good deal from careful observations -and from listening to Davenham's learned talk. The names -Hepplewhite and Adam, Sheraton and Chippendale tripped -glibly from his tongue. True, he confused Hepplewhite and -Adam, but what did that matter? Allan and Kathleen did -not mind, perhaps did not know, and the old fellow was -happy and smiling, though there was just a little ache at -his heart, for to-morrow his work would be done, to-morrow -he would pack his traps, order the car, tip the servants and -say good-bye. His reign would be ended! The villagers -would give him their bobs and their smiles and perhaps a -cheer, Dalabey would come from his shop and grovel for a -moment as he passed and then—then life would of a sudden -become strangely empty, strangely without aim and object.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can almost see 'em, can't you, Allan, my boy, those old -Elmacotts; the place must have looked very like this in their -time. Lord, it's a pity we've got into the way of dressing -so plain and starchy like we do now! But bless my soul! -What would I look like in a flowered waistcoat and powdered -wig and silk stockings, eh? Ha, ha, ha! And how well she's -looking, how pretty she is, prettier'n ever, Allan, and what -a lucky fellow you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The luckiest in the world and the happiest I think, -father!" Allan said very soberly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man nodded, "That's right, that's right, that's -what I hoped to hear. Now, take her and shew her round. -It's a pity it's gone so dark, so you can't see the gardens -to-night. I tell you, Allan, the gardens are even better than -the house. You keep on that old Markabee, he knows his -job and you won't get no better man for thirty-seven and six -a week, cottage found!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dawn of the summer morning Allan wakened, his -sleep had been strangely disturbed. He had dreamed, yet -now he was awake the dreams were all vague, half forgotten -and meaningless. He rose and went to the open window and -looked out into the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw it as he had seen it that day in May, in his dream, -all trim and fair, the weeds and the desolation gone, the -flower beds all gay and bright with bloom, the lawns—and -how old Markabee and his men had worked on these -lawns! shaved and rolled and weeded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And though remembering it as he had seen it, with the -desolation of years over it all, it all looked unfamiliar to -him now and yet wonderfully, strangely familiar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly there came to him with a sense of shock -and anxiety a question. What of the little stone nymph who -had stood there in the midst of the pool? Had they torn -her from her pedestal and banished her from the place she -had held for centuries? Why had he never spoken of her? -Why had he never asked that she might be protected? -Why—why above all did he care? What had become of a little -stone image with a broken arm and a battered vase, and the -slender little stone body all stained green?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he did care, and he wanted to know what her fate -was. He turned back into the room and saw his wife sleeping -there. The sunlight slanted in through the uncurtained -window and touched her face, and he stood looking at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sleeping, she seemed, in spite of her eight and twenty -years, to be such a child. There was a smile on her lips, her -face was pillowed on one white bare arm, her hair fell about -her on the pillow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stretched out his hand and lifted one heavy lock and -held it lightly, letting it slip softly through his fingers till -it fell to the pillow again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, watching her as she slept, he wondered why his heart -did not throb, why a great passionate love for her did not -come—yet it did not!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He dressed and went out into the garden. He was early, -early even for old Markabee, from whose little cottage even -now the smoke was curling, thin and blue, into the morning -air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of the panic of anxiety of a while ago, he had -forgotten the little stone maid. The enchantment of the -garden was on him, his feet trod the stone pathway, his hands -were behind his back, his head bent a little forward, yet he -saw everything, the trim, carefully laid out beds, the green -grass, the foxglove and the hollyhock thrusting their way to -life and air and sun through the crevices in the old stone -path. So he stepped aside to avoid tramping on their -loveliness, yet wondered why they should be there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it right? What would my Lady say? And he? -Was not he dallying here when he should be at his work?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What thoughts! What strange jumble of thoughts was this?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hoe and rake, he must get them from the shed; the shed -there behind the old red wall. So he turned and came to -the place and found no shed, then started and came back to -life again and frowned at himself for his folly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was there some enchantment that brooded over the place, -something that held him in its grip when his feet trod the -soil of this old garden?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dreams!" he said aloud, and again, "Dreams!" And -then laughed at himself and turned back to the broad stone -pathway, then suddenly remembered the object of his quest, -and hurried on to the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was there, untouched! and he was conscious of a -relief, a sense of gladness—yet why? What did it matter? -What would it have mattered had they pulled her down and -carried her away and used her to mend some country road -with and placed some fine marble fountain with basin all -complete in her place? Yet it did matter and he knew that -it did!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned, conscious of a relief and yet wondering at it -and went back along the path to where was the great circle -in the middle of which stood the sundial, and he noticed -that some artificer had replaced the long lost gnomon, so -that once again the shadow might fall and tell the passing -of the hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there was the seat on which he had sat that day. -Then it had been half lost in a maze of tangle and growth. -Now it had been cleaned and even mended a little, the moss -and green growth removed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan sat down, as he had sat down that day; he laid his -arm along the back of the stone seat, just as then, and as -then presently, the reality about him grew faint and -uncertain, and he drifted into a light sleep. But in that sleep -no dreams came, no vision of a little figure tripping down the -stone pathway, no dainty little figure in her flowered gown, -with mob cap on her shining head. Instead he opened his -eyes and looked into the face of an ancient man, who pulled -a scanty lock of hair at him and wished him "Good marning!" -in purest Sussex.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning to you," said Allan and wondered for a -moment who the old man might be, then it dawned on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wunnerful and powerful difference be here," said the -old man, "which you will hev noticed, so be as you hev -seen the place before!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have seen it before, three months ago, and as you say -a wonderful difference is here," said Allan, "and you -are——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Markabee be my name," the old man said, "gardener I -were at Lord Reldewood's place, near Smarden in Kent, -though I be Sussex born and bred."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was interrogation in his still, bright eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Homewood, Allan Homewood!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you be the young master, the old master be a proper -fine man and a thorough gentleman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan laughed. "I hope that you will be able to say the -same of me, though I warn you, Markabee, I am not such -a fine man nor so good a gentleman as my father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That may be, that may be!" said Markabee. "One finds -out, one does, for one's self. But I be one as speaks as I -du find and I say the old gentleman be a proper fine man, -free handed moreover and pleasant of speech!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very late in the season, it were," Markabee went on. -"May, pretty nigh out, when I du come to this garden. -Powerful difficult it were to make much of a show, as I did -say to Mr. Dalabey. 'Never mind,' says he, 'du your bestest, -Markabee, for you be working for a proper fine gentleman -who don't mind a little bit of extry money here and there, -so be he gets what he du want!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan nodded. Not for all the world would he hurt the -old fellow's feelings, but he could wish old Markabee safely -off to his work in the garden, leaving him here to his dreams -in the sunshine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But not so Markabee. For he was old and had seen many -things and many gardens; old and garrulous was he and -eager above all to make a good impression on the young -master!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Things I hev seen and changes," he said, "you wouldn't -believe, and now—how old might you take me to be, eh, -young sir? What aged man would you say I were?" He -pulled himself up erect as a grenadier, and his bright old -eyes twinkled, while the long whisps of white hair fell about -his copper coloured face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, sir, make a guess, how old might 'ee take me to -be, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should say—" said Allan cautiously, "that you might -be sixty-five!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, that be a good 'un, sixty-five—ha, ha!" He -laughed till his voice cracked and he nearly choked. "Two -and eighty years hev I seen, two and eighty wi' never a lie, -and look at me, fit for a long day's work I be with the best -and youngest on 'em! Ask anyone here, young sir, ask what -sort of worker be old Markabee, ask 'em to satisfy yourself, -sir! Yes, two and eighty summers and winters hev I -seen—sixty-five—ha, ha, ha! Sixty-five!" And, chuckling with -laughter, he saluted, drew his old body erect and went -marching off down the garden with a jaunty air, and yet in -his heart a little quavering wonder and anxious fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder, du he think I be too old?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If spell there had been, old Markabee had broken it. So -though he might sit here on the old stone seat, no drowsiness -came to him now. He watched a bee, a great velvety bumble -bee, with its lustrous black and tan body hurrying, full of -business, from flower to flower. The sun was low yet, and -cast slanting shadows all softly blue on the stone pathway. -The dew glinted and glistened in the cups of the flowers and -in the heart of the starry green leaves of the lupins. He -looked along the broad straight pathway to the house and -saw it, so strangely like he had seen it that day, the windows -open, the dimity curtains moving lightly in the soft breeze. -And now came a maid servant, but no mob cap and flowered -gown wore she, and her hair was black and her eyes sleepy, -nor did she trip daintily, but shuffled in sluggard fashion and -let down the new sun blinds outside the windows with a -rasping, creaking sound of iron on iron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No dreams for him this day, nor did he want them? Why -seek them, invite them? For dreams would but bring him -again to dissatisfaction and would set him yearning and -longing and even hoping for that which could never, never -come true. Allan rose and seemed to shake himself, though -he shook himself more mentally than physically, to lighten -himself of these fancies, which were idle and foolish and -which he must not encourage nor harbour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled to himself as he set off for a ramble about the -garden, for he saw what he must do. He must prove to old -Markabee and to all the rest that he was a man worthy of -being his father's son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A proper fine man he be and a thorough gentleman," -old Markabee had said, and so he was. God bless him for -a fine gentleman!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then suddenly and unexpectedly, for he had wandered -far into a part of the garden where he had never been before -and where even old Markabee and his merry men had not -yet penetrated, he came on a little stream that flowed -rapidly and clearly between high banks of thick green -growth and at one place was a deep pool where the water -swirled and eddied, obstructed for the moment in its course -by an abrupt turn in the winding of the stream. About him -were the trees and the greenery, an impenetrable leafy screen -and the silence; but for the birds there was nothing to -interrupt the solitude of the place. So off with his clothes and -then a header into the cool green water for a brisk swim. -Here, under the shade of the trees, the water ran cold and -its coldness sent the blood leaping and throbbing through his -veins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few minutes and he was out, glowing, dripping, a young -giant in his health and strength. Now he had put his clothes -on caring nothing that his skin was wet beneath them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back through the garden and the sunshine he strode—dreams, -what idle things were dreams! Only a fool or a -poet might sit there on that old old stone seat trying to -conjure up visions of a long dead past. His body was in a -glow, he was conscious of a great and voracious appetite. -He saw the girl who had pulled the sun blinds down and -called to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's your name?" he said. "Mary or Peggy, or Molly, -eh?" he smiled at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ann is my name, sir!" she said. "Ann!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not Sussex?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tossed her head. "Not me, thank you, sir, I come -from the Fulham Road!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Ann, where you come from does not matter, but -if you love me, get me a cup of tea and—and—well -anything—a good big hunk of bread and butter will do, but see -that it is big and that there is plenty of butter on it and I'll -wait here till you come back, Ann!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a very strange young gent," the girl thought. "If -I love him indeed! There's a nice way of talking!" She -tossed her head, yet went off to get the tea and the bread -and butter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I love him indeed, well of all the impudence!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="his-son-s-wife"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"HIS SON'S WIFE"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Well, well, my boy, what do you think of it all? -How do you think the garden looks?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonderful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonderful, yes, that old Markabee's a treasure; you -won't part with him, Allan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing would induce me to, father. I hope he'll stay -here another twenty years at least!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That'll make him a hundred and two, the old man is -very proud of his age, eighty something!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eighty-two and seems a mere boy!" Allan went to his -father and put his arms about the old man's shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I'm not going to try and thank you!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't, there's nothing to thank me for! I—I did it—I -enjoyed doing it, never enjoyed anything so much in my life, -put myself into it heart and soul. I'd like Cutler, you know -Cutler, his daughter married the Governor of somewhere -or other—I'd like him to see this place!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me—so I may—one day—I might bring him -down, but, Allan, I'm not going to interfere with you, not -me! Two's company, three's none! I know that! And—good -morning, my dear, and I don't need to ask how you -slept! As fresh as a rose you look this morning, as fresh -and as handsome too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she did, her cheeks were glowing, her eyes were -bright. Fresh from her cold bath, she was a picture of -glowing health and beauty. She went to him and put her hands -on his shoulders and kissed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now I want to know what is the meaning of those -horrible looking bags and portmanteaux and things I saw -on the landing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—why bless me—they are mine—I—I didn't mean -to leave 'em about, my dear. I'd never have forgiven myself -if you'd tripped and fallen over them, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean that; what I want to know is: Why are they -packed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because—because there's my things in 'em and I'm off -for London. Bletsoe's got his orders and after breakfast -I'll start——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But supposing I don't mean to let you go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, my dear, thank you and God bless you! -I—I know what you mean, but thank you, my dear, all the -same! I—I like to think that you're not in a hurry to push -the old fellow out! I'll be glad to remember that!" His -eyes shone. "Yes, my love, I'll be glad to remember that, -but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How are we going to manage without you?" she asked. -"You have been so clever, it's all so wonderful what you -have done here. Allan told me what a terrible, terrible state -the place was in and how like a fairy, a good fairy, you have -touched it with your wand and it—is like it is now! And -we can't let our fairy go, can we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he'll come back, my love, he'll come back!" The -old man cried happily. "But you and Allan have got to -settle down and I—I know what it is, my dear, when Allan's -mother and me were married, settling down is a bit difficult—I -think you and Allan are best left to yourselves, and then -when you want me, why I'll come, I'll come, you won't have -to ask twice. You ought to have the telephone on—" he -paused, took out his pocketbook and made a rapid note, -"arrange telephone, Homewood," then you'll be able to ring -me up and I'll be able to ring you up—now and again, not -that I want to be a nuisance or a worry to you—but—but—what's -that? What's that? Breakfast, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, breakfast!" said the manservant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Over breakfast they discussed an idea that had come to -Kathleen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must have a house warming," she said, "you know -the old superstition, there'll be no luck about the house -unless we have a warming!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To be sure!" said Sir Josiah, a little puzzled, "but I had -the fires lighted and kep' going for weeks and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know!" she laughed. "But I mean a party, a house -party, just a few of our nearest and dearest. You, of course, -first and before all and my—" she hesitated, "my father, -of course, and then you will have one or two of your own -friends, Sir Josiah, won't you? Friends of yours you might -like to bring down?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes shone. "Cutler!" he said. "I'd like to bring -him, take the shine out of him, it will too. I'm fed up with -Her Excellency, the Governor's wife, that's Cutler's daughter. -Why, my love, it'll stifle him, that's what it will do! -Why, of course, I'll come! And there'll be a few things, -wines and spirits and like that. I'll see about them, see -about 'em at once—and now——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the time for parting had come, the time he had -dreaded, but it must come; the car was at the door, the bags -were put into the car. And the owner of the car dallied, -he was in the morning room and Kathleen was with him. -She put her hand on his arm and delayed him, she had -smiled a signal to Allan to go out and leave them together -for a moment or so, and Allan had gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have been very, very good to us, you have given -us this beautiful home, you have given us more—I know—" -she said and her eyes were very bright and very kind, as she -stood, a queenly young figure, with her slim white hand -resting on his arm—"And I want to tell you this—I want -to—to earn it all. I want to earn all your kindness and -affection. I want to prove myself worthy of it! You have -given me all this and you have given me your son and -he—he is the best of all! A little while ago I thought that I -was an old, old woman; life seemed to hold very, very little -for me, my whole life was one long struggle, a struggle -between pride and poverty. I suffered—" she paused, "more -than I can ever tell. I knew what people said of me and -of—" she paused, "of—of me, and now all suddenly I seem -to realise that I am not old, but that I am young, and that -I am not afraid of the years that lie before me. Our -marriage, Allan's and mine, was—was—at first sordid and -mercenary, and I hated it, but Allan and I talked about it and -we agreed, long ago, that we would make the best, the very, -very best possible of our lives and I think we are doing it. -I know how you love him and I know how deeply he loves -you and so—so I wanted to tell you that Allan's wife will -try, with God's help, to be worthy of him and of you, that -she will be a good, true and faithful wife to him, helping -him when she may help, comforting him if he should need -comfort. Perhaps—" she said softly, "I am not a religious -woman, I wish I were! But no religious woman could have -prayed to her God more fervently, more from her heart than -I have prayed from mine that I may never fail in my duty, -that I shall be all that he would have me, that I shall be a -good, true and faithful wife and friend to the man whose -name I bear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not speak, his lips trembled a little, he put his -arms about her and held her very tightly for a moment and -then he went out, seeing nothing very clearly, for the mist -that was before his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as he drove through the little town and out into the -white Sussex roads, past the green fields and under the -shadow of the Downs, he remembered, not that his daughter -was Lady Kathleen, daughter of the Earl of Gowerhurst, but -that she was the sweetest and the best woman he had ever -known.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="will-you-take-this-man"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"WILL YOU TAKE THIS MAN?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The kindly cup of tea of which Mrs. Colley had spoken -to Abram Lestwick must have grown cold or been -replaced and renewed many times, but it was not partaken of -by him for whom it was so hospitably intended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Colley, a short, little body, with a long, lean, bony -face and black hair, dragged back painfully from a -protruding and shiny forehead, watched for Abram as eagerly -as ever a maid watched for the coming of her lover.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lizabeth, sallow faced, black haired like her grandmother, -and with the bad teeth possessed by too many country girls, -tossed her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't go running after no man!" she said. "Abram -Lestwick least of all! I say if he doan't want our tea, let him -stop away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You fool!" said her grandmother, "and there be that -Mrs. Hanson forever dangling after he. Would you be beat, -'Lizabeth, by a pink and white dolly faced hussy like -Mrs. Hanson's Betty? I'd have more pride, I would!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She be welcome to he!" said 'Lizabeth. "Too quiet -and mum mouthed he be to my liking and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There he be!" said Mrs. Colley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bounded out of her chair and was across the little -sitting room kitchen and down the garden path to the gate -all in a moment; a very energetic woman, Mrs. Colley!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Abram!" she said a little breathlessly. "Funny me -coming out this moment and meeting 'ee promiscus like, but -I did see a great slug a-settling on my geraniums and just -at this very moment 'Lizabeth be laying the tea and a fresh -biscuit she hev baked, all hot from the oven, so du 'ee come -in now, Abram, for there be a powerful lot of things I want -to speak wi' 'ee about!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I be sorry," he said gloomily, "afraid I be I cannot -stop!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the tea fresh brewed and on the hob and the water -on it not more'n three minutes, Abram, and the biscuit of -'Lizabeth's baking, a currant biscuit, Abram!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head. "I wish 'ee good evening, Mrs. Colley," -he said, "and must be getting along!" He lifted his -hat to her, a polite man, Abram Lestwick, and went on. -Mrs. Colley went back, beaten and angry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She hev laid a spell on him, 'tis a good thing for Mother -Hanson her bain't living a hundred years ago, or burned for -a witch her would be, certain sure! And his coat buttons, -I never see such a sight, 'Lizabeth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drat his coat buttons! What be they to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two gone out of the four and two others hanging by -threads, and him working his fingers whiles he were talking -wi' me, pulling they off, a rare busy time wi' her needle -will Abram Lestwick's wife hev! Wonderful restless and -nervis he be about the hands, 'Lizabeth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drat his hands!" said Elizabeth Colley. "He doan't -catch me sewing on his buttons for him, no nor for the best -man living neither, which Abram Lestwick b'aint!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down the road went Abram Lestwick, the weak chin under -the straggling growth of black hair looked a shade more -resolute this evening, for he had made up his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was he, Abram Lestwick, the man to stand nonsense from -a mere maid who dared oppose his will with her own? No! -Was he not Farmer Patcham's foreman and first hand, -looked up to and respected? He was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had he not a cottage of four rooms of his own? He had! -Was he not in receipt of a steady income of thirty-five shillings -a week, of which he had no less than forty-three pounds -ten saved and standing in the Post Office Savings Bank to -his credit? He was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very well then!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down the road strode Abram Lestwick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll put up wi' no more dilly dallying wi' she!" he said -to himself, "I be a strong intentioned man, not a boy like -some, to be put off wi' a grimace and a shake o' a head, and -such like! And so I'll let her know and I hev her -grandmother's good wishes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not falter, he flung open the little green painted -gate of Mrs. Hanson's front garden and trod manfully up -the broken stone pathway to the cottage door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why if it bain't Abram!" said Mrs. Hanson, in a tone -of surprise, though she had been watching the clock for him -this past half hour. Betty, pouring boiling water from the -kettle into the brown teapot, started, so that the hot water -splashed on her hand, but she uttered no sound. Her face -turned white, perhaps it was the pain from the boiling water, -perhaps the sound of the man's voice!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good evening!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good evening to 'ee, Abram," said Mrs. Hanson. She -looked across the room to the girl. "Betty, here be Abram!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, I know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram had taken off his hat, he was twisting it between his -restless fingers, plucking at the felt, bending the brim. -Mrs. Hanson stared resolutely at his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wun't 'ee draw a chair and set down, Abram?" she said. -"An' put your hat down!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded, he put his hat down and sat by the table. -Betty's face was white and set hard, her small round chin -was thrust out obstinately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I du hear good accounts of the new people at the Manor," -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, a sweet and pleasant spoken lady and the daughter -of a Lord!" said Mrs. Hanson. "And Mr. Allan Homewood, -who I did speak with the very day he came here first, -a very nicely spoken gentleman, I'm sure!" She looked at -Betty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty sat down, she stared straight before her, she knew -that these were but preliminaries, that which they were -saying now mattered nothing at all. Her grandmother poured -out the tea. Abram took his cup, he twisted it round and -round in the saucer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see Mrs. Colley as I passed the door, picking slugs she -were! She asked me in to tea, she said there was a fresh -biscuit of 'Lizbeth's baking!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was meant for conversation, and not as a reflection on -the present tea table, which was guiltless of a currant -biscuit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wunnerful hand at cooking, 'Lizbeth Colley be!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson shrugged her shoulders, "Hev you ever -noticed her teeth, Abram, terribul teeth they be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Terribul!" he agreed; he looked at the girl facing him. -He could not see her teeth, for her small rosebud mouth was -tightly compressed, but he had seen them and remembered -them for the whitest pearls he had ever seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rare hand at fashioning and managing, 'Lizbeth Colley," -he remarked. He paused to drink with his mouth full -of bread and butter. It was not a pretty exhibition, but -neither Mrs. Hanson nor Betty remarked it. Bread and -butter and tea taken at one meal had to mingle, sooner or -later; why not sooner than later?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The meal went on, Abram smacked his lips noisily. -Mrs. Hanson tried to make conversation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bit of luck for an old man like Markabee getting a -permanent job at his time of life! I wonder how long du -they think they'll keep he?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Though I du admit very agile he be for his years!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all idle, it was all eating up time, till the meal -should be over. These, as Betty knew, were merely preliminaries, -presently the real business would start. Her grandmother -had warned her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ahram be here to-night, he be, to hev a direct answer and -for 'ee to make up thy mind and name the day!" said -Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll get his direct answer, he will! And as for naming -the day, there wun't he no day to name!" said Betty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll see, my gell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, we'll see!" said Betty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't think what have come to that maid!" Mrs. Hanson -thought. "All contrairy and perilous defiant her be, and -once——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Help me clear they things!" Mrs. Hanson said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The meal was over at last. Abram brought out his pipe; -he did not light it, he did not even put it between his long, -yellowish teeth. He held it in his hand, he twisted it and -turned it. He made of the bowl a thimble, which he set on -his finger; he picked at the thin silver mount and all the -time he watched Betty. And always that weak chin of his -under the coarse, sparse black hairs, seemed to grow stronger -and more protruberant, more pronounced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson spun out the washing up, but it was over -at last and she came back and took her usual seat by the -fireplace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, Abram?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the signal, Betty stiffened up, she clenched her -small hands; Abram dropped the pipe and stooped to recover -it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Hanson, Ma'am, and Betty, you both know full -well why I be here to-night," he said. "Terribul slow of -speech I be—" He dropped the pipe again and went in -search of it; groping along the floor, again he recovered it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not put the pipe down, Abram?" Mrs. Hanson -said. "Pipes be terribul easy things to drop!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded, he put the pipe down on the table and fell to -plucking out the horsehairs from the chair seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Terribul slow of speech I be!" he repeated. "But you, -Ma'am, Mrs. Hanson, know, I think, why I be here -to'night! 'Tis about the maid, Betty, your grand-darter, -Ma'am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" said Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What hev your visits to do wi' me?" Betty demanded, a -spot of vivid colour in her white cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I du love 'ee and want 'ee to marry me!" he said simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That be well spoken, straight and to the point, that be!" -said Mrs. Hanson. "No man could speak fairer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will speak straight and to the point tu," Betty -said. "I du not love 'ee and will never marry 'ee! I would -sooner be dead, and drownd myself I will before I marry -'ee, Abram Lestwick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" he said, his eyes roved towards Mrs. Hanson. What -had she to say to that?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A perilous bad maid 'ee be!" said Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So 'ee've told me till I be sick to death o' hearing it. -Perilous bad and wicked and ungrateful, I be—an all that's -bad! Why do he come here a persecutering me? Why -doan't he leave I alone?" the girl cried passionately. "I -doan't ask him to—to foller me and worry me—why doan't -he go and marry 'Lizbeth Colley, wi' her currant biscuits? -A wonderful fashioner and manager she be! He said it, -said it and I—I wun't marry him. I'll die—die willing and -glad, yes die! Yes, I'll die!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaped to her feet, her face was burning, her eyes -brilliant with defiance and anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one hasn't the right to so persecute a maid like he -du persecute I! I doan't want him here. I—I can't bear -nor bide 'ee, Abram Lestwick, I can't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice faltered. He sat there staring at her, never -speaking a word and his silence disconcerted her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A perilous—" began Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say—say it again, say it again!" Betty panted, "And -I'll scream, I'll scream till I be dead. Say it, again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And 'ee be my son Garge's child. Garge as were ever -mild and quiet, and I be Garge's mother!" Up rose -Mrs. Hanson. "I be Garge's mother and thy grandmother and -I be the one to speak, Betty Hanson, and speak I will!" She -lifted a strong arm and pointed a long, thick-jointed -finger at the girl. "Marry him 'ee shall, and I say it! And -wi' a good grace tu, and come to your senses, 'ee shall, my -maid, if I break a stick over your back! And I'll hev no -more o' these tantrums, no more of them, I say, a perilous -bad and wicked maid 'ee be! Hev not Abram done we a -great honour? Hev he not——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll kill myself before I marry him!" the girl said, but -she said it without passion, only with an immense certainty -in her voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram blinked, he stared at the ill smelling, newly lighted -lamp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen to me, Betty Hanson. Here be Abram asking 'ee -to marry 'ee and asking 'ee to name the day—answer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hev answered!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Answer as I order 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shan't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson stalked across the room, she went to a corner -by the fireplace, in that corner stood the stout old stick -that had supported her husband's declining years. She had -always kept that stick in the corner, it was more homely to see -it there. She took it now, she came back to Betty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will 'ee marry this good man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One, two, three, down came the stick, heavily across the -slender shoulders. The girl's eyes filled with tears, born of -the smart of the blows, but she kept her white teeth clenched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ask 'ee again, will 'ee name the day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thud, thud, thud!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ahram Lestwick leaned forward, he stared at them both. -He was tearing the threads out of the fringe of the cheap -tablecloth now. He watched Betty's face without emotion. -"Dogged abst'nate her be!" he muttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty Hanson, my mind be made up! Will 'ee take -this man to be your lawful wedded husband, in sickness and -in health, for better an' for worser, till death du 'ee part?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wun't, I hate him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thud, thud, thud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I hate 'ee tu!" said Betty suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That be enough!" The stick fell. "'Ee've said it, -Betty Hanson! Said it! Said it past recall! Hate me, -'ee said it! And to-morrow 'ee go out, go out, my maid, -for I live in no house where hate du abide!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go and glad, glad!" the girl said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram rose slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg to thank 'ee for a good tea, which I did enjoy, -Mrs. Hanson, 'tis time for me to be going!" he turned towards -the door. "A very good tea!" he said. "I bain't partial to -new baked currant biscuits!" He paused at the door and -looked at Betty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll ask 'ee to name the day some other time, my maid! -I be a patient man, a very patient man, I be in no hurry, no -hurry at all! And I wish 'ee good night, Mrs. Hanson, and -thank 'ee for your good tea once again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty stared at him, her eyes were wide, filled with terror. -She lifted her hands to her face, she gripped her face -between them, the sharp little nails dug into the soft, -peach-like cheeks, but she felt no pain, was unconscious of what -she was doing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her and smiled, he backed out and closed the -door, but she did not move. She heard his steps outside, -her breast was rising and falling and when she spoke, she -spoke in gasps, in short breathless sentences.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did 'ee see—grandmother, did 'ee see—his hands—his -hateful hands? Grandmother, did 'ee see? One day—he'll -kill someone wi' they hands, kill 'em—grandmother, -maybe—maybe 'twill be—me!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="my-lady-merciful"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"MY LADY MERCIFUL"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I am glad Mr. Dalabey spared her," said Kathleen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded towards the little figure of the nymph standing -up from the middle of the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I!" Allan said. "But I've a great respect for Dalabey, -he does not look it, but he is an artist. He has a right -perception, a sense of fitness. Dalabey is a reader and a -thinker, too. Kathleen, you would be surprised by the -depth of Dalabey's knowledge, for all that, he says 'I be' and -'Du 'ee?' Which, after all, may be better English than that -which you and I speak. You would hardly believe that -Dalabey and Ruskin have more than a nodding acquaintance, -but so it is! Yes, I'm glad he spared the little stone maid. -Do you know the first morning we were here, dear, I worried -about her. I rose early and came out to see if she were -still here and there she was, a monument to Dalabey's good -sense! I've congratulated him since!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was listening to him with a smile on her lips. Now she -glanced at him, at the tall, big young man by her -side—her husband!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan," she said suddenly, "Allan, you seem to be very -happy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Happy!" he was startled. "Of course I am happy. -Why—why did you say that? I am happy and content. I -Have the dearest and best man in the world for father. I -have a wife who is friend and comrade——" he pressed her -hand. "I have a home, the like of which there is not to be -found in all England! Happy—why not, Kathleen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was silent for a moment. He had said the dearest -father and his wife—after all his wife was only friend and -comrade—only! Why did she feel vaguely dissatisfied, had -she not set herself to be just that very thing, that he said -she was—friend, comrade, and now he had said it, she felt -a little regret.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you would not have things different from what they -are, Allan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" he said. "I'm very, very content, very proud and -very happy, Kathleen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the dream," she said, "the dream you told me of, -Allan, the pretty girl who came——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed frankly, almost boyishly, a laugh so clear and -so ringing that it, was infectious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I had a pleasant dream and dreamed a pretty -girl was imprudent enough to come and kiss me, shall I moon -about disconsolate and unhappy, my mind filled with stupid -longing and foolish regrets, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the dream did affect you for a time, Allan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a time," he said, "it was so clear, so real, so strange, -so—so undreamlike that it must affect me! Kathleen, I -never think of it now, I've put it out of my mind, I've sat -there a score of times on that very seat and no dreams have -come, I've smiled at the foolish fancy of it, laughed it all to -scorn—and forgotten it——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if it were not—all a dream, if one day she came into -your life—that girl——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head. "She was a dream and she doesn't -exist, she never will and never can—she came and she -went—for good!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yet," she persisted, with a woman's strange persistence, -"Allan, if—if she came, if you saw her in life, -if——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then," he said quietly and looked her full in the eyes, -"you have my promise, dear, just as I have yours, but it -will never, never be—Kathleen, shall I be truthful, honest, -candid with, you? I never want it to be, dear, I am well -content! And now come——" he went on gaily, "and we'll -talk to old Markabee, that young fellow who refuses to grow -old! Come, dear and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she shook her head. "I am going to the village, Allan," -she said, "at least, not to the village, but to a little -cottage between here and Little Stretton, Mrs. Hanson's -cottage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hanson, I remember a kindly talkative old dame who has -always a smile and a country bob for us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid she is not as kindly as she looks!" Kathleen -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, what has the wicked old body been doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ill-treating her granddaughter, so I have heard. It was -Debly Cassons who told me. She said she was passing -Mrs. Hanson's cottage as she came here last evening, and she -heard the sound of beating and looking in through the window -saw that wicked old woman thrashing the girl with a stick. -And there——" Kathleen went on, "the girl was standing -accepting the blows without a sound, but later as Debly was -going back, she heard someone sobbing as thought her heart -was breaking and she found the girl lying on the grass in the -little garden crying bitterly. Debly is a kindly old soul and -she tried to comfort her and find out what the trouble was, -but the girl would not answer, so——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So my dear little Lady Bountiful, my Lady Merciful is -going to carry comfort to the ill-used child, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at Kathleen, then stretched out his hand and -touched hers. "Kathleen, you are a good woman," he said -sincerely and gently, "I wish I could think that I were -worthy of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen shook her head, she did not speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a trace of sadness in her eyes as she went back -alone to the house. It seemed to her that there was the chance -of happiness of a great and wonderful happiness, yet she -could not stretch out her hand to grasp it, could not because -of memories, years old memories, memories of another face -and another voice, memories of a love that had filled her life -once. She had loved then, she told herself, as a woman loves -but once, as she could never love again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan's happiness and mine," she said to herself, "is -built not on love, but on friendship and respect, perhaps -it is the surest, the best foundation," yet while she consoled -herself, she sighed a little and the sadness stayed in her -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very grim and very silent was Mrs. Hanson this morning. -Last night that maid, the maid she had brought up -from babyhood had told her that she hated her, had said -"shan't" to her, had defied her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson had had a strict upbringing herself, she had -married Hanson because he was in regular work and was -drawing good pay, twelve shillings a week, no less. Her -parents had told her to marry Hanson and she had married -him. The marriage market has its branches in the smallest -of villages and marriages of convenience are not luxuries -enjoyed only by the rich and the wellborn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she, in her turn, had found a very suitable husband -for this wayward maid who, lacking in duty and obedience, -definitely refused to accept that husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very well then! Mrs. Hanson had every reason to be hurt -and aggrieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty had risen early—as usual—had cleaned out the -little cottage kitchen, had polished the stove till it shone, had -made the fire and had prepared the breakfast just as usual, -but all the time she was doing it, she knew that she was -doing it for the last time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Last night her grandmother had said to her, "You shall go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her grandmother never changed her mind, never -relented, never altered. Betty knew this of long, long -experience, besides in any event she would go, she would not -stay—no, not even if her grandmother begged her to on -her bended knees, and that was not in the least likely. -They had their breakfast together in stony silence. After -breakfast Mrs. Hanson spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wash they things and put them back on the dresser—for -the last time!" she added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty had washed the things, she had replaced them on -the dresser, on to the snowy white board of the dresser top -she had permitted one large hot tear to splash.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her grandmother sat stiffly upright in her chair by the -window with the huge family Bible open on the little rickety -round table before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson always turned to the Bible for comfort and -for advice in times of stress and doubt. She was reading -stolidly through the story of Naboth's Vineyard and was -deriving much spiritual comfort from it. Very stern and -unrelenting she looked sitting primly bolt upright, her hands -resting on the book and her spectacles adjusted on the end -of her long and pointed nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now and again out of the corner of her eye she glanced -at the girl who was slowly putting the finishing touches to -her work. In a little while the girl must be gone, -Mrs. Hanson was a stern and unrelenting woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where the girl would go to, Mrs. Hanson did not know, -she never gave it a thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She did say, she did hate me!" the old woman thought. -"Hate—a perilous wicked thing for a young gell to say—and -to abide in a house of hatred, I will not! There's the Bible -for it—'Better a dinner of yarbs and contentment therewith -than a stalled ox in the house——'" Mrs. Hanson looked -up, a shadow had fallen across the window, there came a light -tapping on the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me and bless my dear soul!" said Mrs. Hanson -aloud, "if here b'ain't my Lady Homewood, Betty quick—quickly -open the door to Her Ladyship, quick now! Do 'ee -hear me speak?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door was opened by Betty. Coming from the hot -bright sunlight of the outer world into the twilight of the -little room, Kathleen could only see a slight, slender figure -in an old cotton gown, which figure bobbed a deferential, yet -it almost seemed a defiant little curtsey to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is Mrs. Hanson's cottage?" Kathleen asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson had risen, she bobbed, it was no half hearted -curtsey this of hers, she seemed to sink into the floor to -her middle and then rose again, tall and lean and agitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Hanson I be, my Lady, and proud I be to see your -Ladyship here—Betty, a chair for her Ladyship, my maid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty brought a chair, she flicked it with a duster and -placed it that Kathleen might be seated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now Kathleen, whose sight had grown accustomed -to the dimmer light of the room, could see the child plainly, -and seeing her, wondered a little at the loveliness of the -little piteous face, the drawn mouth, the big saddened eyes -that had so evidently recently shed tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor pretty little maid! Kathleen remembered what -Debly had told her of the child lying out in the grass, -sobbing her heart out in the darkness of the night. She looked -at the stern puritanical looking old woman and Kathleen, -who was hot blooded and generous, felt instinctive dislike -of her, which dislike was unjust and ill placed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, having come expressly about this girl with the golden -hair and the sweet oval face, Kathleen, being a very -diplomatic young woman, spoke of everything and anything else -under the sun. She told Mrs. Hanson how often she had -admired the neatness and prettiness of the little front -garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is so nice to see gardens so well kept, I am sure yours -is a great credit to you, and oh Mrs. Hanson, do please sit -down, we can't talk comfortably, can we, if you stand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my Lady, to sit in your presence!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you will force me to stand too!" said Kathleen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Mrs. Hanson sat down on the very edge of her hard -chair and they talked of the garden, that neat little garden -with its flower beds, surrounded by nice large flint stones -which Betty whitened regularly every Saturday, to make -all prim and clean and spotless for the Sunday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have lived here many years?" Kathleen asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Hanson hev always lived in this cottage, my Lady, -from time out o' mind. A Bifley were I born, my mother -being a Pringle, and me married to Amos Hanson when I -were just turned seventeen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah yes!" Kathleen said. "And this is your granddaughter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My granddarter her be," said Mrs. Hanson sternly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And of course you need her here to help you in this -little cottage?" Kathleen hazarded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I du not need she, my Lady, and her be going to leave -me, her be, this very day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To—to leave—you—you mean the child is going away? -Where is she going to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson did not answer. The girl was still in the -room, seemingly busy at the dresser, but Kathleen looking -could see the slender shoulders shake and knew what a big -fight the little maid was putting up to keep herself from -bursting into tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What little village tragedy was here? she wondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is she going to London?" Kathleen asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I du not know, my Lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But——" Kathleen said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson rose, she was trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lady, that I should hev to tell 'ee a stranger, yet -with a face so kind, that emboldened I be—my Lady—this -maid, this perilous wicked maid——" the old dame stopped -for a moment, quivering and shaking, "this perilous bad, -wicked onnatchral maid did say to me—I hate 'ee, I du! -Said it my lady wi' her own lips and tongue, she did! And -I said tu her 'Betty Hanson, granddarter o' mine, 'ee may be, -but never, never will I abide in a house where hatred du -exist, so out of this house du 'ee go for a bad perilous maid -on the morrow!' And this be the morrow, my Lady——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she is so young, only a child and surely you would -not let her go without, knowing she is going into safety and -into the house of friends? She is your granddaughter and -you are responsible for her! Do you think that you are -acting rightly? Do you think—oh please don't think that I -am preaching to you—but she is so young and so pretty -and to think of her going—and never even knowing where -the poor child is going to!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hev chose for she a good husband, a man wi' thirty-five -shillings a week coming in, a cottage too and of quiet ways!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But if she does not love him?" Kathleen asked, and, -remembering her own marriage, blushed red as a rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Love him indeed, my lady, hev I not chose he for she? A -good upstanding, upright man as ever was, to Church reg'lar -twice a Sundays, walking in the fear of God, he du, and very -respectable wi' never a word to be heard against -he—and—and——" Mrs. Hanson paused nervously and exhausted -for the moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she is only a child! Betty, come here, Betty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, du 'ee hear her Ladyship a-speaking to 'ee?" -cried the grandmother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Betty at the dresser, her back obstinately turned, did -not move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, there!" said Mrs. Hanson triumphantly, "'ee can -see for yourself, my Lady, how bad and de-fiant and -obstinant her du be—Oh Betty, shame on thee!" the old woman -added, for Kathleen herself had risen and had gone across -the room to the lonely little figure and all suddenly had put a -kind arm about those heaving shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, Betty child, come and tell me all about it!" she -said in that sweet gentle voice of hers that could break -down any barrier of anger and defiance. And then Betty, -knowing, feeling that here was a friend, broke down suddenly -and giving way to the long threatening tears, laid her head -against Kathleen's breast and sobbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate him, I hate him I du and fear him I du, My—my -lady and grandmother be so bent on my marrying he and I, -I can't! Oh, I can't bear it, I can't and 'tis breaking my -heart, it be, my—my Lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush, little one, don't cry!" Kathleen said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, I be mortal ashamed of 'ee, I be!" said -Mrs. Hanson. "Mortal ashamed and all put about I be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Mrs. Hanson, let me speak to her!" said Kathleen. -She drew Betty towards her chair, she sat down and -held the girl's hot little hand and looked into the pretty -flushed tear stained face. Poor pretty child!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How old are you, Betty?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I be—be eighteen, my Lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And behaving she be like she were but seven!" said -Mrs. Hanson. "A perilous bad——" she paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your grandmother says you must go, Betty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, I du, I du, and when I du say a thing, by that thing -I du abide!" said Mrs. Hanson. "Go, I said, and go she -shall! A very unrelenting woman I be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then at last came a flash of anger into Kathleen's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, a very hard and unrelenting woman, I fear, Mrs. Hanson! -Has this child no other friends, no other relations, -than you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never a soul hev she got, and I hev brought she up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now would turn her out of the house, knowing that -she had no one to go to, no one to keep and protect her, for -shame, Mrs. Hanson!" cried Kathleen in just indignation. -Mrs. Hanson said nothing, she quivered and shook. Perhaps -in her heart of hearts she wanted to give way, but she -had said it, a stern and unrelenting woman was she, and -prided herself on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And where will you go to, Betty, when you leave your -grandmother's cottage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh my lady, I du not know, indeed I du not! For I hev -not thought of it, but I wouldn't mind where I did go, so be it -was not to Abram Lestwick, who I du hate and of whom I -be in most mortal terror, my—my lady!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you shall not go to him, you shall come to me, Betty, -and you shall be my little maid!" Kathleen said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To—to the Manor House, my—my lady?" Betty stammered, -"Oh my Lady, to—to the Manor House?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course, child, for I live there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh my Lady, I—I couldn't, don't ask me—I couldn't -bear to—to go there and see it all—all as it be now—I -couldn't my Lady, 'twould break my heart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen looked at her in amazement. "But why, Betty?" -she said. "I don't understand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lady," interposed Mrs. Hanson, "if so be as I may -be allowed to speak——" she paused, quivering with indignation, -"'tis but right I should tell 'ee this, that this wayward, -obstinate, perilous gel was forever in they old gardens before -Mr. Homewood bought the old place, forever she was, spite of -all I did say to she. Sometimes of nights I du verily believe -she would rise and go stealing off to they gardens, a terribul -state they was in too, and coming back wi' her frock all -covered wi' green like and sometimes tored by the wall over -which she did climb most shameful——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen heard, she looked at the girl who stood with -bowed head before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you go to the garden, Betty?" she asked softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because—oh I—I don't know, because—I can't—can't -tell 'ee, my Lady, I can't tell 'ee, but it be all changed and -altered now wi' great fences put up and—and my stone -maid gone and 'twould break my heart, my Lady to go there -and not see she, my stone maid, any more!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The stone maid is not gone, Betty, and the gardens have -not been altered, but only made beautiful and they tell me -that they must be just as they were in the old days!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder, my Lady, as 'ee have the patience to talk wi' -she!" said Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Kathleen took no notice. "So, Betty, will you come -to me and be my little maid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And glad and grateful!" said Mrs. Hanson. "Say it!" -she commanded. "Elizabeth Hanson, say it, yes—and glad -and grateful I du be, my Lady, to 'ee for your great kindness, -and drop my Lady a curtsey, 'ee unmannerly maid, as I be -sore ashamed of!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only——" Kathleen thought, "if only the old woman -would leave the child alone, poor Betty, I can see why that -little spirit of hers was goaded into rebellion at last!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I need no thanks!" Kathleen said, "I only want Betty to -say that she will come; you will come, child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How kind were those eyes that looked into hers, how sweet -a smile there was on her Ladyship's beautiful face! It must -have melted a heart of stone and Betty's warm passionate -little heart was not of stone. So she broke down, sobbing -and crying, she would come and glad and grateful she was, -and come she would that very day if her Ladyship would -but have her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pack your little box, Betty," Kathleen said, "and I -will send one of the men presently to fetch it for you and I -think and hope you will be happy and—and maybe Betty, -you will not find the old garden so changed after all. I will -answer for it there are no ugly fences and the stone maid -stands where she did in the middle of the lake, Betty, -so—go come and see your little friend again!" She held out her -kind hand, but Betty did not take it, instead she dropped -suddenly onto her knees and kissed that white hand as if -it had been the hand of a Queen, and so like a queen was -Kathleen to the country maid, a Queen all beautiful, all -generous, all kind. Queen! No, an angel from Heaven rather! -And when she had gone Betty stood there, all unmindful -that her grandmother was here and she spoke her thoughts -aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very willing and glad I would be," she said slowly, "very -willing and glad to die for she, I would!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson sniffed, she had no patience with such -outrageous and exaggerated statements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get 'ee off and pack your box," she said sharply, "and -think yourself lucky, Betty Hanson, as 'ee hev found -another home, and a kind mistress, too kind I be afeared! Too -kind and lenient like wi' 'ee and your folly, my maid!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="harold-scarsdale-returns"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HAROLD SCARSDALE RETURNS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Kathleen's face was very thoughtful, a little sad -even, as she walked back along the white dusty road. -She hardly saw the village folk, who bobbed and curtseyed -to her as she passed. She saw only a sweet oval face, a glorious -head of glittering hair, a pair of sad, wistful blue eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So these people do, as their betters!" she thought. "They -drive and goad their children into unhappy marriages! My -Lord's daughter must be made to marry thirty thousand a -year, as little Betty, Mrs. Hanson's granddaughter, is to be -forced into marriage with thirty shillings a week! How -wrong and what a shame it all is! Money, rank, position -and interest! Is there no such thing as love left in the world -at all? May not a man choose his mate, a woman choose for -herself from among all men, the one she loves? It seems not, -in village or in city, in cottage or in palace, and I——" -she paused. "I did as I was bidden and I am happier -perhaps than I deserve to be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen, unlike other well born young ladies of Society, -had had no maid, in the old days she could not afford one. -Amy, the parlour maid, had assisted her into the dresses that -were so very seldom paid for, and Kathleen had long since -adopted the unladylike practice of doing her own hair. So -when she came to Homewood she had decided to continue -without a maid, though the funds were not lacking now and -the dresses were certainly paid for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course little Betty Hanson would not know a tithe of -those things that a good and practiced lady's maid should -know. She would not be able to do her ladyship's hair in -the latest and most becoming style. She would not be able -to select gowns suitable for special occasions. She would not -be able to massage my lady's white hands and perhaps her -face. She would not be able to flatter and fawn and sponge -and perhaps rob and lie. No, Betty Hanson was not likely -to have any of these desirable accomplishments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen had an honest admiration for beauty. She was -one of those rare women who can see and appreciate beauty -in another woman. She would have everything about her -beautiful if she could. She feared that perhaps to those who -were unbeautiful, she was a little unjust. To Ann, the very -plain housemaid who came from the Fulham Road, for instance, -Kathleen was more than unusually kind and generous, -because in her heart of hearts she did not like Ann. And she -believed that she did not like Ann because Ann had a sallow, -greasy skin, a misshapen nose and small mean eyes, set too -closely together and a loose, nondescript kind of mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ann, as a matter of fact, was a stupid, blundering creature, -who forgot to do one half of what she was told and deliberately -neglected to do the other half, who generally did everything -badly, and had a habit of breaking the most expensive -things she could put her clumsy hands on. Once Kathleen, -goaded and irritated by Ann's hopeless imbecility had spoken -sharply—sharply for her—to the girl and had promptly -repented of it and had given Ann five shillings and begged a -half day off for her from Mrs. Crozier, the housekeeper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that was like Kathleen and that was why the servants -adored her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Kathleen was a little disturbed in her mind. She -found herself wondering, remembering and wondering—what -was this about this child haunting the old garden at the -Manor House, climbing the high brick wall and entering into -that place of desolation and solitude, called thither, who -knows by what strange voices? What was this about her -going there of nights to wander about the black solitudes of -tangle and weed? Surely it was not right, it was not -canny. She smiled at the word, the word that she had heard -her old Scottish nurse use years and years ago. Yet it was -the right word, it was not canny that a young and pretty girl -should have so strange a love for solitudes and weed grown -gardens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Could it—could it have been she?" What mad nonsense, -what folly was this? Kathleen wondered at her own -thoughts. How could it have been this girl whom Allan had -seen there that day? He had said it was a dream, it must -have been a dream—this girl was no dream, but living reality. -And then Allan had told her that the girl of his dream had -been dressed all in some strange, old world costume, how -the garden about her had been in bloom and all so trim and -neat and tidy, how the old house, a place of desolation, had -been bright and gay with its open windows and blowing -curtains, and how the girl herself had gone to him and had -kissed him and had put her little mittened hands—mittened -hands—had little Betty Hanson ever owned a pair of mittens -in her life? No, no those things had gone out in Betty's -great-grandmother's time, what mad nonsense it all was! So -Kathleen laughed merrily and laughed the ideas and the -notions all away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went to find Mrs. Crozier—Mrs. Crozier, the elderly, -kindly autocrat of the house, Mrs. Crozier who had been -housekeeper in a far finer and more magnificent mansion than -this, no less a place than Dwennington Hall, the seat of the -Duke of Grandon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Crozier, I have engaged a young village girl, Betty -Hanson, granddaughter of Mrs. Hanson, who lives in the -cottage up the road towards Little Stretton, she is to be my -lady's maid. She is only a child and she will feel strange -here at first so——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I quite understand, my lady, I'll look after the little -thing and make her feel quite at home!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, you do so readily understand me, Mrs. Crozier."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's easy enough to understand your Ladyship," Mrs. Crozier -said. "There is always some kindly thought in your -head, my lady, for others—I know Mrs. Hanson slightly, a -good and very respectable woman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you send one of the men for Betty Hanson's box -presently? And oh Mrs. Crozier, about the fourteenth——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm making all preparations, my lady, Sir Josiah will be -coming of course!" Mrs. Crozier smiled, she held Sir Josiah -in very high esteem.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a highly educated gentleman, perhaps," Mrs. Crozier -had said over a cup of tea to Mrs. Parsmon, the doctor's -wife, "but one of the kind, Mrs. Parsmon that I call Nature's -gentlemen! That is my opinion of Sir Josiah Homewood!" So -when Mrs. Crozier mentioned his name to Sir Josiah's -daughter-in-law, she smiled in a very kindly way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Josiah will bring a friend, perhaps two, and my father -will come of course," Kathleen's voice changed a little, as -it always did in some subtle manner when she spoke of her -father. Her face seemed to grow a shade colder, then the -cloud passed and she was smiling and thanking Mrs. Crozier -again, for her intended kindness to Betty Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll see her in the morning," she said, "let her come up -to me after breakfast and I'll have a long talk with her, and -O Mrs. Crozier, as she is leaving her grandmother so -suddenly, she may need some things, clothes I mean—I know -it is not always easy for a young girl to get all the clothes -she needs"—there was a sad reminiscent smile on Kathleen's -face, "so will you get anything for her she may require and -let me know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do everything, my lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The fourteenth was the date fixed for the house warming, -that event that had a little puzzled Sir Josiah. But he quite -understood what it meant now, and he was looking forward -to it with much the same feeling as a schoolboy has regarding -the coming summer holidays.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the old fashioned chop house in the City, a table -was regularly reserved for Sir Josiah, which he -sometimes shared with Cutler and sometimes with Jobson or -Cuttlewell, or Priestly (of Priestly, Nicholson, and Coombe, -those famous contractors). At that same table now, Sir -Josiah bragged and boasted of the glories of Homewood, of -his daughter-in-law, Lord Gowerhurst's only child. How -he told them of his work at Homewood and of the wonders -of the place. "Historical, it is!" he said. "And that feller -Davenham, I put him in charge. I know my limitations, -Cuttlewell, no man better, when it comes to furnishing in the -Period style I'll own I'm beat, but Davenham knows, an -expensive man I'll admit, but what's money, what's money?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was money indeed! Had not Sir Josiah been in -pursuit of it all his life, had he not seemed to worship it? -Had not those plump knees of his been for ever bent to the -Golden Calf?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's money, hey?" he cried. "Ho! William, William! -Mr. Cuttlewell will take a glass of that old port with me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And William, the antique waiter, of the white side whiskers -and the ancient evening dress suit and the large sized, -untidy feet, shuffled away to fill the order, for their best and -most respected customer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like you to see the place, I should, Priestly, my boy! -My daughter-in-law, Lady Kathleen, is giving a house -warming on the fourteenth. Cutler's running down with -me—going to take him down in the car. Hang it, Priestly, you -shall come! My daughter-in-law, Lady Kathleen, says all -my friends are her friends, and she means it, she's that sort. -God bless her! There isn't a truer, sweeter woman on earth -and so—so I say God bless her!" The tears came into his -eyes, they trickled down his cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here was honest pride, honest and unfeigned! He lifted -his glass of port, he beamed on them and gave them the toast -from his heart. "My daughter-in-law, Lady Kathleen -Homewood, God bless her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They smiled at him, they took it good naturedly, they knew -his worth, a sound man Sir Josiah, good for at least a couple -or three hundred thousand and very likely for a good deal -more. When a man has a credit good for anything from two -to four hundred thousand, who will not put up with his little -ways, even though it might be a trifle boring for those who -had not the pleasure of Lady Kathleen's acquaintance? So -Priestly was asked and Cutler and Cuttlewell too, only -unfortunately Cuttlewell could not come, but Jobson could and -would!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the expansive moment was past, Sir Josiah felt a -little nervous. Had he overstepped the limits? Had he -gone too far; would it not be encroaching on Kathleen's -goodness? Conscience smote him. That he had bought and paid -for the house, that he was sending down cases of wines -regardless of cost, that he was ordering at the big London -Stores with the most lavish hand and purse in the world, all -that mattered nothing at all! But would Kathleen be -annoyed? He wrote to her and received a letter that made his -cheeks flush like those of a school miss of sixteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your friends are mine, bring them all, you cannot bring -too many, especially if they are like you. Only let me know -how many rooms you want, dear, and believe me to be your -affectionate and grateful Kathleen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God bless her!" he said. "God bless her!" And that -day he added Coombe to the list. What a time they would -all have on the fourteenth! How he talked and bragged and -boasted, yet strangely enough a change had come over his -boasting, it was not of his Lordship the Earl, and her -"Ladyship, the Earl's daughter, it was not of the "historical" -mansion, and the period rooms and Davenham's whole hearted -expenditure in the matter of furnishing the place, it was of -"My daughter-in-law, Kathleen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beautiful, ha, ha!" he laughed. "I'll shew you real -beauty! You think Lesbia Carter and Sybil Montgomery, -those actress girls, are beautiful and so they are, sweetly -pretty girls they are, and I don't say one word against 'em, -not me! But when you see my daughter Kathleen—Lady -Kathleen, then you'll see beauty, then you'll see goodness and -sweet gracious womanliness, my boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cutler and Jobson laughed, they had their little jokes -together. "The old boy ought to have married her himself! -I'll bet you he's more in love with her than Allan, his son, -is!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know Gowerhurst," said Coombe. Coombe was a large -man who smoked expensive cigars, with the bands on them, -for effect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Know him, I should think I do. He owes me a bit now! -I'll bet you if he hears I'm going to—what's the name of the -place—Homewood—he won't turn up—catch him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Gowerhurst had received his invitation. He had -not been down to Homewood, he had no love for the country, -ancient historical houses and early English gardens did -not appeal to him. The house that found the most favour -in his sight was his favourite and particular Club, and he -preferred the card room there or the billiard room to any -garden that ever bloomed. But he must go, he must offer -himself up as a sacrifice. Old Homewood would be there of -course and his Lordship was not quite easy in his mind about -certain speculations into which he had been led. Lumeyer -had induced him to put five of the twelve thousand he had -obtained from Homewood into the Stelling Reef Gold Mine -and his Lordship had heard bad accounts of that same -concern. He had tried to sell out and had tried vainly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lumeyer, a densely black bearded man, with cherry lips, -had told him all would be well, but his Lordship did not -believe it. It might conceivably be possible that presently he -would need old Homewood's help again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Doosid bore and beastly nuisance!" he said. "But I'll -have to go, I hate family parties and that kind of thing and -Kathleen hasn't mentioned if there's a billiard room. Let -me see—the fourteenth will be Friday. I'll leave a telegram -with Parsons, the hall porter here, to send on to me the first -thing Monday morning, demanding my presence in Town. -Kathleen's done well, doosid well, thanks to me! I don't like -the tone of her letter, though, no, hang me, I don't like the -tone of her letter! Cold and formal, but that's Kathleen, -takes after her mother! Doosid cold and doosid formal, well, -well!" He paused. "Whatever happens I'll be able to say -I did the best possible for my daughter. A man's got to -consider his family, I've considered mine, no one can say to the -contrary!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was in the dining room during luncheon time at his Club -that his Lordship was holding communion with his own -thoughts. He started now at the sight of a tall elderly, white -haired, soldierly man who came in, followed by a somewhat -younger man—it was the younger man who claimed his -Lordship's attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's that?" he asked himself. "Seen that face -before—who the doose is it now? Not a member——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here Paul!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my Lord?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Paul, did you see that gentleman come in? Who is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Andrew Moly——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I don't mean the old one, I mean the younger -one with him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know, my Lord, can't say! I haven't seen the -gentleman before!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then find out!" The man scuttled off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I know that face, hang me if I don't—wonder who he -is?" His Lordship frowned, he adjusted his eyeglass and -gazed across to the little table where Sir Andrew Molyneux -and his companion were seated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Confoundedly annoying to see a fellow's face and not -know who the doose he is!" His Lordship thought. "Hello, -Paul, well? Have you found out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my Lord, I did, I took the liberty of asking -Mr. Marsmith. I noticed Mr. Marsmith bow to the gentleman as -he came in and I took the liberty——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, but who is the fellow?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very important gentleman, Governor of some place as I -didn't catch the name of, my Lord, somewhere in America, -I should think or the Indies—I don't know my Lord, anyhow -he is Sir Harold Scarsdale, a very rich——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless—my—soul!" his Lordship said. "Thanks, that -will do, Paul, that will do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Paul went away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harold Scarsdale—bless my soul!" He sat and looked -at the younger man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Altered, confoundedly altered, looks twenty years older, -and it is only ten! Let me see, he can't be a day over -thirty-five and the fellow looks forty-five. By George, there was -that love affair between him and Kathleen. I remember it -well, Old Scarsdale, our Rector at Benningley's son. I -remember, by George I do, had a few words with the young -fellow, called him a presumptuous puppy if I remember -right, so he was, by George! But byegones—eh—byegones -can be byegones—Kathleen was too sensible and too cold, yes -by George, too cold to make a fool of herself, turned him -down, very rightly and properly, I remember it all, -remember catching him in the garden at Bishopsholme, I -remember a letter I got hold of, of his, asking Kathleen to run -away with him, the young fool. By George if I remember -right, I made it warm for him! And he cleared out, left -the country, he seems to have done well for himself, knighted, -eh? Well, well, things change, the wheel goes round, one -man gets carried up, t'others get taken down. I'm t'other," -he smiled grimly. "I'm down! I think—I think——" he -paused. "I shall recall—why not? A rich man, Paul said -so, sensible fellow Paul. He knows I always like to -understand the financial position of other folk—I shall -certainly, yes certainly, recall our earlier acquaintance!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His Lordship bided his time. He waited, he had finished -his own luncheon some time since, but he timed his -retirement from the dining room to synchronise with that of the -other two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, bless my soul, surely I am not mistaken?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Andrew turned to look at his Lordship, but this -expression of astonishment was not for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other man had halted, seemed to draw back, his face -stern and grave, a handsome face, seemed to harden a shade -as the Earl thrust himself forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I surely am not mistaking my old friend's son, Harold -Scarsdale. If I am, then believe me I offer my sincere -apologies, but I can hardly make a mistake!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My name is Scarsdale, and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you don't remember me, bless my soul, you don't -remember me, my name is Gowerhurst!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I remember your Lordship perfectly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear fellow, I am delighted to see you, it quite takes -me back. Come, come, we must have a long talk, a long -talk together, eh? How's the world been treating you? -Well, I hope, if I can be of service to you, command me! -By George, Harold, I always had a sneaking affection for -you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You managed to hide it very cleverly, my Lord, ten -years ago!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha! Had to, you know, had to! Doting father, that -sort of thing, couldn't let my little girl make a bad match! -Hang it, if I'd been a rich man, ha, ha, I wouldn't have stood -in your way, but I wasn't; I was, and am, come to that, -doosid poor, and a father's feelings, Harold, my boy, as you'll -know when you are a father yourself, unless——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not married!" said Scarsdale quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, quite right. Well as I was saying, a father must -consider his child. I may have seemed hard, a little hard -perhaps, to you that day, I remember it perfectly well, but -I liked you, my dear fellow, all the time my heart was -bleeding for you, bleeding, sir! I said to myself, can I, dare I? -No, by George, I can't and daren't! I can't see my girl -scrubbing her own doorstep and—and turning her dresses -and making her own bonnets—I can't think of it! So I -nerved myself to be stern, nerved myself, Harold, and all the -time my heart bled for you, my dear lad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I remember very well," Scarsdale said quietly, "that you -on that occasion called me a cunning, scheming, blackguardly -young adventurer, who had dared to presume to look far too -high, and you were right, as to the last, my lord, but not as -to the first. For I was not cunning or scheming, I—I loved -her, worshipped her and forgot everything else——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George! and so you did, so you did! But I was her -father, I had to consider ways and means, eh? You'd do -the same yourself, you'd have to! But we can't talk here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am with Sir Andrew Molyneux, an old friend of my -father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! And your father, dear old fellow, how is he now, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has been dead four years, my Lord, and if you will -excuse me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Positively I must see you and have a chat with you over -things, Harold. You'll dine with me to-night? Say -yes!" Lord Gowerhurst wrung the young man's hand. "Come, -come, I can't take no—I positively refuse to take no! Hang -it, after all these years old friends and that sort of thing, we -can't pass like ships in the confounded night, can we, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Harold Scarsdale smiled. He had a stern, grave face, -but the smile lighted it up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-night then, my Lord, since you wish it, here—at what time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eight o'clock," his Lordship said briskly, "and I shall -look for you, it's been a delight, a sheer delight to see you -again!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-dawn"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN THE DAWN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My dear Kathleen, I am looking forward with keen -enjoyment to my coming visit to your charming home. -That I have not come before you will easily understand, my -love. I am an old fellow and my ways are not your ways. -I am sensitive, very sensitive, as I think you know. To -have felt myself de trop would have been a cause of pain -to me. I felt I could not do it and though my heart was -yearning for you and though I have often, a thousand times, -pictured your beautiful home, its master and mistress, though -I, in my solitary and none too comfortable rooms, have often -visioned to myself your delightful life at Homewood, yet I -have never intruded. I have been tempted many times. I -have said to myself, I will run down just for the day, then I -hesitated. Should I be welcome? I know, I know, my -love, that my dear daughter's heart is always affectionately -inclined to her doting father, yet in your new life, with -your new interests, with your young husband, I have -wondered, is there a place, some nook, some corner for the old -fellow to stow himself away in?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But bless me, how I ramble on? I live a very quiet and -uneventful life, my appetite is not what it was. I -sometimes walk round to the Club and try and peck a morsel for -lunch, but I am not my own man. I think I feel my -loneliness. Well, well, my dear, I look forward, as I say, to the -fourteenth of this month, with great expectation and -happiness. Now I shall behold you in your own home. I shall -behold my dear daughter, mistress of a good house, -dispensing her and her husband's hospitality with the gracious -courtesy that is the birthright only of a woman of breeding. -Give my kindly remembrance to your husband and believe -me, my dear Kathleen, ever your fond and devoted Father, -Gowerhurst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"P.S. I am taking the liberty of bringing an old friend -down with me. I know in such a mansion as Homewood, there -are many rooms, may I hope that I am not encroaching in -asking that one may be reserved for one for whom you once -had a kindly feeling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen smiled a little and frowned a little over this -letter. It was like her father, he wrote as he spoke. But who -was the friend? She hardly gave it a thought, there were so -many old friends, was there one for whom she had once had -a kindly feeling? She doubted it. Her father, in the old -days, had commanded her ready affection at all times for any -opulent acquaintance from whom he was hopeful of extracting -money. This was in all probability another victim. So -Kathleen put the letter aside and forgot all about it, -except that she asked Mrs. Crozier to have another room -prepared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She told Mrs. Crozier now, lest she might forget it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my lady," said the housekeeper, "there's that little -Betty Hanson who came yesterday, she is waiting your -ladyship's pleasure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had not forgotten," Kathleen said. "Will you send -her up to my room?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled at Allan. "My new maid," she said, "the one I -told you about, the little girl from the cottage down the road, -such a pretty little thing, I am sure you will admire her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan smiled when she had gone out, he wondered if other -wives bespoke their husband's admiration for new maids in -this way? Then his smile drifted away and he frowned a -little, had Kathleen loved him—she would have been more -jealous of his admiration—loved him! How good she was, -what a sweet, lovely nature hers was, and how utterly -unworthy of her was he!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had she loved him? Yet, why should he wish for her -love when he had given her none of his own? None? No, -he did not love her, not as a man should love the wife he has -married. He liked her, admired her, respected her, above all -living women. She shared with his father the whole of his -heart, but it was not "the love," not the passion of young -manhood, the worshipping, devouring, all selfish and yet all -unselfish love that surely she was worthy to awaken in his -breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty!" Who had said "Betty"? Who had uttered that -name? Mrs. Crozier of course, she had told Kathleen that -Betty Hanson was here, but the name awakened memories, -memories of that dream. "Her" name had been Betty, had -she not told him with her red lips, "Thy Betty," she had -said, and he had been "her Allan."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty, nonsense! This Betty would be a big bouncing, -red cheeked, bold eyed, healthy country girl! As for Betty -of his dreams, there was no place for her now in his busy -life. There was much to be done. He had taken up farming -wholeheartedly, not for ever would he live on his father's -bounty. He would improve the place, make it almost -self-supporting. He would prove to his father and Kathleen -that there was something in him and that he was not merely -an idler and a dreamer. So he filled his pipe and lighted it -and went out to have a long talk with old Custance at One -Tree Hill Farm. For Custance, though old, seemed to be -the most progressive man in the place and already he and -Allan had laid their heads together and had discussed ways -and means to wring money from the fertile soil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Crozier had been very kind to the timid and shy -girl. She had had Betty to tea with her in her own private -room, she had introduced her to the other servants, and had -kept a motherly eye on Betty till the time came for Betty to -retire to her own small room in the servant's quarters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she was here! actually here, sleeping in this old -house, which she had seen so often, watched so often by -sunlight and moonlight. She remembered it as it had been then, -with its broken windows, with the ivy and the creepers -growing over it in one great tangle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the garden, she had not seen the garden yet! How -would it look when she saw it? What terrible changes would -there be there? Her dear garden, what harm had they done -to it? How strange and altered would it be?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could not sleep that night, she lay awake on the strange -unfamiliar bed, tossing restlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her ladyship had said, and how sweet and good was her -ladyship, she had said that the stone maiden was still there -in the old lake, so she would find one familiar friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a long, sleepless, troubled night for Betty, the -daylight dawned at last, and then she rose and dressed very -quietly and before the other servants were waking, she crept -down the steep stairs to the kitchen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not hesitate for a moment, she seemed to know her -way perfectly, yet she had never been inside the house before. -The House had always repelled her, its gloom and its silence -and its dust had forbidden any desire on her part to -explore it. Yet now she made her way unerringly through the -great kitchen through the vast and cold scullery, down a long -passage till she came to a little door, a door that she knew -must be there. And it was there and then she drew a ponderous -bolt that had been fashioned by a hand that had been dust -for two centuries. She unfastened a huge lock, by a key -that required all her strength to turn, and so she opened the -door and stepped out into the garden as the rising sun flung -its first ray of primrose and gold across the heavens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only two steps Betty took, then stood still. The light was -dim yet, yet through the grey mists she could see it—not as -she had seen it last—yet as she had seen it perhaps in her -dreams. It was all so familiar, not as she had dreaded, -strange and cold, but it, was as the face of an old friend -suddenly grown young again, young and beautiful and sweet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her garden—yes it was hers! Changed and yet not -changed, even more hers, it seemed to her, now, than had -been the weed grown, tangled desert she remembered. Yet -she remembered that she had seen it thus in dreams and now, -as the sun rose, as the sky was flooded with the glory of the -dawn, she saw her garden in all its beauty, in all its reality, -as sometimes she had seen it in those strange dreams that -had come to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had she not seen it like this when those figures, those -strange, beautiful, unreal figures of her imagination had -promenaded these old walks, those gracious ladies with their -strange old world costumes, their hair dressed so high on -their heads, their tiny slim waists, their great bell-like skirts -and their little red heeled shoes. Those men in their rich -deep skirted coats, their stockinged legs, their swords, their -wigs—all those visions that had come to her in dreams, had -they not moved and lived in a garden like this, this same -garden as it was now, all trim and sweet and gay with -flowers?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt her heart pounding, throbbing, beating as it had -never beat before. She hurried on and on, down the broad -stone pathway to the lake and there she saw her little friend, -just the same as always, the broken pitcher on her shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So while the sun rose higher and higher, Betty stood -there and nodded solemnly to the little stone figure, who -never nodded back. And then, turning to go back to the -house before the others should know that she had come here -unpermitted, she stopped suddenly and uttered a little -choking cry of wonder and amazement. For from here she could -see the house, a place of the living, no longer a place of the -dead. She could see the curtains fluttering in the breeze -at the many open windows, she could see the signs of life -there, the primness and neatness of it all!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was all familiar, there was no strangeness to her -here, she was looking at that which her eyes had seen before -and yet how could it be, since she had not entered this place, -since those days before the workmen had come to alter it all? -How could it be? and yet it was! And then suddenly she -turned and did not know why, and looked at an old stone seat -that stood on the edge of the great ring about the sundial. -Why had she looked at it? What had she expected to see -there? What she saw was an old, old stone seat, grey and -brown and green in the shadows, golden white where the sun's -rays touched it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, filled with wonder, filled with a strange sense -of fear, she ran to the house and so back through the door -which she bolted and barred after her, and up the steep -stairs to her own little room and to sit on the bed with her -hands clasped and her eyes staring into vacancy, a vacancy -which yet seemed to hold many things, and one thing she -saw very plainly, a man who was young, a man whom she -knew instantly as he whom she had seen so often at his work -in the old garden. But now she saw his face, and he smiled -at her, a lean, strong, sunburned face, with eyes as blue as -her own! How often in those strange dreams had she seen -him, quaintly dressed in a suit of snuff coloured brown, -toiling at his work with spade and hoe. "Allan!" she said -suddenly. "Allan!" And then she uttered a cry, she hid her -face in her hands and shivered suddenly, for she was -conscious of a strange feeling of fear, for here was something -she could not understand. "Allan!" Why had she said -that name? What had put it into her mind and brought it -to her lips?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-dream-maiden"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE DREAM MAIDEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>If Allan Homewood, Esquire, should by chance meet his -wife's maid or any other servant on the stairs, or in one -of the innumerable passages of the old fashioned house, it -was scarcely likely that he would give more than a passing -glance and more than a passing thought to the domestic. If -little Betty Hanson should happen suddenly on the master -of the house at a turn in the passageway, what more -becoming than she should drop her eyes demurely and go on -her way?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So while Allan and Betty Hanson had met perhaps a -dozen times or more, neither had really seen the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan was vaguely conscious of a small trim figure, and a -wealth of golden hair, which figure when he came tapping at -the door of his wife's room usually flitted out by another -door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty took kindly to her new duties, she was intelligent, -she was quick and she was very eager to be of service to her -mistress. Because she was eager to learn she learned rapidly. -Kathleen was a gentle mistress, who never lost her temper -and saw something rather pitiful in the young girl's evident -desire to please.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor little thing!" she said, "she is grateful!" So she -was more than usually kind to Betty and the girl whose -heart was bursting with love and gratitude, would very -willingly have lain down and allowed Kathleen to trample on -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think of my little maid, Allan? Don't you -think the child is pretty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh, your maid? Oh yes!" Allan said. "Quite a pretty -little thing!" He was thinking of something else, the -fourteenth of the month was weighing rather heavily on him and -his spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If it had only been his father who was coming, or only -Kathleen's, but that both should come, that both should -bring friends of their own troubled Allan. He knew that -his father's friends were not likely to find much favour with -his Lordship. Allan had met most of them, he knew Cutler, -a prosy, self sufficient, middle aged bore. Jobson was another -of the same type. Coombe was a big man with a loud voice -and vulgar aggressive manner. He told interminable stories -without wit or point. They were sound men in the City, -very likely, but he dreaded their advent here. For his -father he felt nothing but pride and affection. He knew the -old man's goodness of heart, his generous nature, his -simplicity, for these he loved him and honoured him above all men. -Let my Lord Gowerhurst sneer at that good honest man if -he dared—if he dared—in his, Allan's presence. It was -not of his father, but of Cutler, Jobson, Coombe and -Company that Allan felt nervous and whom he worried about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen had told him that her father was bringing a -friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?" Allan asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know, Allan, he writes, an old friend of mine—but -I doubt it, very few of my father's friends were mine—I -am sorry," she said frankly, "that he is coming. I know -that you do not like him, Allan, I cannot wonder that you -do not!" She sighed and her head drooped a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Allan, looking at her, felt his heart swell with pity, -for he knew what that proud spirit of hers had been called -on to suffer because of her father, the Earl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But was it pity only that made his heart swell, that made -him take a step towards her, then stand hesitating?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned abruptly and went out into the garden. He -was puzzled, uneasy, uncertain—Life had seemed so placid, -the future as well as the present had seemed so certain, as -certain as anything human could be. He and Kathleen -understood one another so perfectly, were such firm friends, -such tried companions; yet did they understand one another -after all? Did he even understand himself?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung himself down onto the stone seat facing the -sundial. He had never been in love in his life, and therefore -told himself that he knew all about it. Love, he believed, -came like a tempest, it swept a man off his feet, it robbed him -of his appetite. It caused him sleepless nights, it drove him -to a thousand and one follies. Such mad, passionate, -foolish love had never assailed him. He had a good appetite -and he slept well of nights, he did not write poetry, though -he was rather fond of reading it, if it were good. So -emphatically he could not be in love and certainly not in love -with his own wife!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed at the thought, but the laughter was a little -uncertain, a little shaky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am," he said aloud, "no more in love with her than she -with me. We are the best of friends, our lives together are -practically ideal, we have not had one quarrel in all these -weeks, we are not likely to have; how could one quarrel -with a woman so gracious, so sweet, so good as Kathleen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thrust his hands into his pockets and stretched out his -long legs and stared hard at his boots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In love? certainly not! and most assuredly not with -Kathleen, yet supposing she were to leave him, supposing he -must suddenly face life without her? He shuddered at the -thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he refused to consider the matter, to-morrow was -the fourteenth, to-morrow would come his father, God bless -him, with his beaming face, his car probably packed full -of little delicacies and little presents, as well as of City -friends, whose coming Allan distinctly dreaded, yet his father -should not be made aware of that. There would be a royal -welcome for Coombe and Cutler and Jobson, for the sake -of the dear old man who brought them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A telegram had been delivered by the red cheeked -messenger from the Little Stretton Telegraph office.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was carried up to My Lady's room, as Mr. Homewood -himself was not visible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen tore open the envelope, it was from her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Womanlike she glanced at the signature "Gowerhurst" -first and a faint hope came that it was to say his Lordship -would not be able to come, but he was coming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Find trains serve badly, can you send a car to meet us -three fifteen Longworthy Station. Gowerhurst."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course they could and must. Kathleen sighed a little, -she glanced through the window and saw Allan sprawling -on the old stone seat by the sundial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty," she said, "take this telegram down to Mr. Homewood -and ask him if he will kindly arrange about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing was farther from Allan's thoughts, at this -moment, than dreams, or memories of dreams. He had put -all that nonsense behind him, long since; he had laughed -frankly and whole heartedly when the merest memory of that -strangely lifelike dream had come into his mind. If it had -affected him—and it had—it affected him no longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was thinking particularly of Coombe, if only his father -had contented himself with Cutler and Jobson! They were -at least quiet and unobtrusive, while Coombe—Allan looked up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down the wide flagged pathway a girl was coming to him. -About her was the old world garden, all bright and gay with -its flowers, and the trim emerald green lawn, all dappled -with sunlight and shadows. Behind her was the old house, -the casement curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze and the -girl herself dainty and light footed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why did he start? Why did he catch his breath suddenly? -Why did his eyes dilate? She wore no quaint old-world cap -on her gleaming little head of golden hair, she wore no -flowered gown, high waisted and cut low to show the white -neck. No, she wore a very simple, plain black frock with -a dainty white apron. But he knew her! He knew her -and his heart seemed to stand still as he watched her, wide -eyed with amazement. His outflung hand gripped the back -of the stone seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she came towards him, then as suddenly stopped, she -stood there looking, looking at him with the bluest eyes he -had ever seen. He saw a little hand go to her breast as into -her childlike face there came a look of wonder and of fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty!" he said. "Betty!" And scarcely knew that -he had said it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, oh Allan, I——" and then flashed into her face -a crimson tide of shame, she dropped her eyes, she stood -before him, trembling and abashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What had possessed her? What madness was this? Allan—she -had dared so to call him, him the master of the -house—my lady's husband!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the man sat, gripping the old seat, and the girl stood -there, covered with shame and confusion, not daring to lift -her eyes, and silence fell on them both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What strange mad fantasy was this? Should he waken -in a moment to hear Dalabey's voice, as once before? But -no, she was real at least, this little maid in her black dress -and her head crowned with its shining glory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she had called him Allan, the name had seemed to -come spontaneously from her lips, as he had called her -Betty! He felt shaken, life had suddenly become fantastic -to him, nothing seemed very real. It was after all a world of -dreams; this too, was a dream. He could almost have -welcomed the voice of Dalabey, but it did not come. So she -stood there, with bent head and he saw something fluttering -in her little hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—you have brought me a message?" he said, and -his voice sounded strangely hoarse and discordant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, from—from my Lady!" She dropped him a -little curtsey, he could see the flush still in her cheeks, could -see that it even stained her white neck and her little ears. -He rose and went to her and stretched out his hand. He hoped -that she would look up but she did not, never once were the -blue eyes lifted to his own. Why had she come, why had -she come? He had not wanted her to come, yet she had -come into his life after all. She was here, standing before -him, not in the picturesque trappings of a byegone century, -but in her modern dress, still he knew her well enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, Betty!" Betty who had kissed him, who had told -him that she loved him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had hoped once that he might meet her in real life. -He had pictured her, tried to dream that dream again, yet -had never succeeded. And now that at last he saw her, -could stretch out his hand and touch her, he knew that it -were better that she had not come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put out his hand and took the telegram from her, yet -did not look at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are—Betty Hanson, my wife's maid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little head seemed to droop lower, he could see the -childish breast heaving under the pretty white apron. She -dropped him a curtsey humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are Betty!" he said. "And you called me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh sir, oh sir forgive me. Indeed—indeed I du not know -what made me, sir!" Now the blue eyes were lifted to him -in pitiful appeal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed—oh indeed, sir, I didn't know what I were saying! -'Twasn't as if I myself spoke, 'twas as if—if summut -in me made me say it—oh sir—indeed, I couldn't help it! -I—I don't know what made me du it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How blue her eyes were, how they shone and glittered now -with the tears that clung to the sweeping, upturned lashes, -how pitiful in its appeal for pardon was the little face! He -looked at her with a feeling of pity, and yet not of pity -only. It was she! the girl of his dreams, the girl who had -come to him and called him "Allan, her Allan," this girl a -servant in the house, who had come to him this day in real -life and had called him by his name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What meaning, what strange, unknown, force was behind -it all? How could he tell, still less, poor maid, how could -she?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not angry, Betty," he said, "indeed, why should I -be angry—with you—for I called you Betty, knowing it -to be your name, though I did not recognise you as Betty -Hanson, my wife's maid. Don't think of it again, child, and -do not let it trouble you! Perhaps you are right, it was not -you yourself who spoke——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you bain't angry wi' me, sir?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head and smiled. Angry—angry with her—yet -had she not once before asked him that selfsame question? -Strangely he remembered clearly and distinctly the -very words "Allan, Allan, be you still angry wi' your Betty -now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps unconsciously he had muttered them aloud, for -he was startled to see the look in her face, the wonder, the -and excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What—what made 'ee say those words?" she gasped. "Oh, -what made 'ee say 'em?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know, I don't know," he said. "Betty, Betty, -child, go back, forget all this, it is nonsense—some foolish -dream that you and I seem to have shared. Go back, little -maid, to your mistress and your work and forget—-" he -paused, "forget that you knew my name to be Allan and -that I knew you for Betty! Believe me it is better, far, far -better so!" He smiled at her kindly. "Don't think that I -am angry, why should I be angry? It seems to me, child, -that fate is playing some strange trick with us, that is far, -far beyond understanding. We must not try to understand -it. Betty, better put it out of your mind and forget -it——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If—if I could!" she whispered. "Oh if I could!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must, both of us," he said sternly. "We must forget -what we should never know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How pretty she was—and now that the colour was in her -cheeks, how lovely she looked in the sunlight with the old -garden all about her! Kathleen was right—a rarely lovely little -maid was Mrs. Hanson's granddaughter! And as she was, -so had been that other maid, the maid of his dream, the same -gleaming, golden hair, the same delicate arched brows—the -deep blue eyes—with their wealth of uplifted lashes, the fair -oval of her cheeks, and the red lipped dainty little mouth -that once had smiled on him so kindly and not smiled only, -but had come so willingly to meet his own lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, there are some things that it is not given to us -to understand, perhaps now and again in the lives of some -mortals the curtain is for a moment lifted. It may have -been so with us, lifted and then, allowed to fall again—and -when it has been lifted only for a moment, Betty, it is better -that we who have been granted a sight beyond it, should -forget what we have seen and never let it influence our -thoughts or our lives. Can you understand me, Betty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded silently, she looked at him with her glorious -eyes and in them he saw to his dismay, his terror almost, the -same light, the light of the love he had seen shining in the -eyes of his dream maiden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now she broke the spell, she dropped him a curtsey, -she was turning away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be there any answer to my lady's message, sir?" she -asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" he said. "No, there is no answer!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went back to the stone seat and sat there, conscious -that life and the world had changed suddenly for him. He -dropped his chin onto his hand and sat staring, staring and -seeing nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knew that once he had hoped that she might come and -she had come and now he knew he was sorry and yet glad, -with a strange gladness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty!" he said and said it aloud. "Betty——!" And -saw her, not as he had seen her but a moment ago, but as he -had seen her that first time in her picturesque flowered gown, -so quaintly high waisted, the neck cut low to shew her slender -white throat, the little mittened hands and the mob cap on -her shining head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the face, the eyes, the lips, ah! they were the same!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose suddenly and seemed to shake himself mentally -and physically. This was real life, this was the world all about -him. There was no time for folly and for dreams—to-morrow -the old house would be filled with visitors. He remembered -the telegram suddenly and found it crushed into a ball -in his hand. He opened it and smoothed it out and read it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is from my wife's father," he said aloud, and then -repeated the words as of some set meaning and for some -known purpose, "my wife's father!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-road-to-homewood"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE ROAD TO HOMEWOOD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Long ago before their marriage, Allan had promised to -tell Kathleen if his dream maiden should ever come -to him in real life. And she had come, yet he had not told -his wife. To-morrow the old house would be filled with -guests. Kathleen had much to do and much to think about, -why trouble her now with this foolish story? After all the -visitors were gone—why then—perhaps—but not now!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they would have the old house to themselves, then -would be the time for confidences, and such foolish -confidences after all, why tax her patience with them now?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Betty, it was likely that he would see the child -again, yet when he saw her, what then? He would not speak -to her. Yet at the very thought of that fair, flowerlike face, -those deep blue eyes, something seemed to stir within him, the -blood seemed to run more quickly in his veins, he was -conscious of a heart throb, of a subdued excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now that she was not here before his eyes, he -pictured her, not as he had seen her last, but as he had seen -her for the first time, in quaint gown and mob cap, with -mittened hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No! when the visitors were all gone, when her father and -his had taken their departure, when they had the house to -themselves once again—then he would tell her and ask her -opinion and advice. Perhaps she would send the child away, -women did such things he knew, he hoped that Kathleen -would not. On the whole he did not think she would. -Kathleen could not be guilty of anything that was small and -mean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up at him now as he came in with the same -frank kindly smile as always.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had my father's telegram, Allan?" she said. "Did -you arrange about a car?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, it's very, very wrong of me, yet when I saw the -message was from my father I almost hoped that it was to -say he could not come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not answer and she went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has taken so little interest in us and the house, he -has not thought it worth his while to run down, even for an -hour to see us, all these weeks, while your father——" she -paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish," he said, "that my father was not bringing so -many of his City friends, I am afraid that his Lordship will -not approve of them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father surely has a right to bring whom he pleases -to this house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, dear, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wrote to him. I did not tell you at the time, I told -him that all his friends were welcome here, Allan, if we can -give him any little pleasure; could we deny it to him, after all -that he has given to us and done for us? And, oh! I feel -so humble when I think of him and his goodness. I remember -what I used to think of him, what I used to permit -myself to say of him, before I knew him as I know him now. I -feel that I can never sufficiently make amends for that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All that evening she talked to him of the visitors who were -coming. She herself had seen to Sir Josiah's room, she had -arranged vases for the flowers that she would not cut until -the morning, so that they should be fresh. It was a sense of -duty rather than a feeling of love that caused her to put -flowers in her own father's room too, for one thing she knew -that he would not appreciate them. That night Allan lay -wakeful. He thought of Betty and thought of her with a -sense of shame, yet with a strange joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why should it have been as it had? What meaning was -behind it all? Was there a meaning that he would ever -understand? He remembered what his father had told him of a -Pringle—an Allan Pringle who had married a Betty, maid -to the then mistress of the house. It had been a sad story, his -father had said, the girl had died, poor Betty! He listened -to Kathleen's sweet regular breathing, he lifted himself on -his arm and watched her sleeping face in the moonlight that -came in through the widely opened window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How good she was, how white and pure she looked lying -here in her sleep! He was strangely moved, his mind was -filled with a great reverence for her, he bent to her, he touched -her cheeks with his lips, so lightly as not to waken her, then -he lay down again and slept.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No holiday maker ever set out for a day's pleasuring with -keener anticipation than did Sir Josiah this bright September -morning. He was to call for Cutler on the way. Coombe was -driving his own car and would pick up Jobson, they were to -meet at the Chequers at Horley, should they not happen on -one another on the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were a thousand and one things to remember, a -dozen packages to stow away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mind that there one, Bletsoe, my man, go lightly now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good, Sir Josiah!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And see Mr. Cutler don't go and put his foot on it," said -Sir Josiah, "and let me see, one, two, three, four, that's all -right! One moment!" Back into the house he dashed, to -reappear with more parcels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Reg'lar old Santy Claus," muttered Bletsoe, with a kindly -smile, "like a blooming great kid he is, going to 'ave a day's -outing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—seven's right, -and eight, that's in my pocket; what's the time, Bletsoe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone ten, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless my soul and I promised to be at Cutler's at ten—all -right now, Bletsoe, let her go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How he had racked his brain, what shops had he not -rummaged, what shopmen and shop maidens had he not pestered. -He had sent down cases from the wine merchant, stores from -Messrs. Whiteley, hundred weights of pâte de foie gras, -Strasbourg pies, chocolates and Heaven knew what besides -from Messrs. Fortum and Mason's. That lengthy and -evidently fragile parcel he had been so careful about was a -beautiful and costly vase. Something of the Ming Period or -the Chang Dynasty, he was not very sure what, but it cost a -great deal. That soft and pliable looking parcel was a -silken kimono of rare and wonderful workmanship. Those -square parcels were cigars and cigarettes for Allan and -Allan's friends. There he sat, this red faced, jolly old -gentleman, with a great cigar in the corner of his mouth and he -beamed on the world as his magnificent car whirled him up -one street and down another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here was Cutler actually ready, standing in his open -doorway, Cutler in a new and rather becoming tweed suit, -and a soft felt hat, an unfamiliar Cutler, for Sir Josiah had -never seen him in anything but a silk hat and a correct black -coat in the City.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hallo Cutler, here we are, a bit late, mind the parcels! -Bletsoe, take Mr. Cutler's suitcase, here we are, my boy, -lovely morning, looking forward to a delightful run, picking -up Coombe and Jobson at Horley. Get in, get in! Have a -cigar, no you prefer a pipe. I don't know that you ain't -right!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now they were really off and away. How nimbly -the big car twisted in and out the traffic, how it dodged -cumbersome, road monopolising trams, how it slipped round -the unwieldy omnibuses! Then away southward Streatham -was passed—here was Croydon with its narrow congested -streets, past Purley and Redhill, down the long hill -somewhere near the foot of which lies the village of Horley and -its well known Inn, where Coombe and Jobson would be -waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a morning, what sunshine, what a breeze!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does one good, Cutler. Blows the cobwebs away! -Better than all your Doctor's stuffs, my boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My daughter," said Cutler, "tells me that in Demauritius, -of which her husband is Governor, they have some -extraordinarily beautiful country and she constantly——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Cutler's reminiscences are cut short, here is the -Chequers, and here is Coombe with a tankard of beer in his -hand. He waves the tankard to Sir Josiah unblushingly and -drinks his jolly good health.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your jolly good health too, Coombe, my boy, what a -morning! What's the time! Eleven—Bless me, we must -have dawdled on the way! Beer! the air's good enough for -me—like wine, sir, wine—the finest wine in the world!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Race you to Crawley for a fiver," says Coombe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I trust—Sir Josiah," says Jobson, "you will not agree, -believe me Coombe needs no inducement at all to be reckless, -he nearly ran over an old lady in Streatham a very -respectable looking old lady, in Croydon he butted into a tram -standard, and it is a mercy we were not all killed, and then -at Purley Corner—a butcher's cart——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Coombe's beer is finished, Jobson is bundled into the -car, Coombe starts her up, climbs over Jobson and tramples -on his feet, seizes the wheel and away they go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For all Coombe's boasting and reckless driving, Sir Josiah -and Cutler are in Crawley first. Here they swing away to -the right to Horsham and leave the Brighton road for good. -From now on, their road takes them through the heart of -Sussex, Sussex of the quaint wayside cottages, with gardens -all blooming and fragrant, Sussex of the chalky white roads, -the great undulating sweeps of noble hills. Sing of Devon -who will, but can Devon shew such cottage gardens, can she -shew anything to compare with yonder glorious range of -downs? Green downs on which the passing clouds cast -moving shadows of purple and blue, and here and there a gleam -of purest white, where the sunlight strikes on to the bare -white chalk of some cliff or cutting. Where in all the -world grows turf so dense, so fine, so short and sweet and -perfect as here upon these rolling hills of chalk. Under the -hills the trees are all glowing red and bronze and orange. -The car wheels swish among the fallen leaves, the children -come running out of the cottages and cling to the gates to -watch as the cars go whirling by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they are going at a more sober pace now, the country -is all too lovely under the September sunshine to rattle -through in a cloud of chalky dust. Sir Josiah, eager as he is, -calls on Bletsoe to go more quietly, and it is luncheon time -when they cross the river and run up into Arundel Town, -so luncheon they have in the old Inn and walk up the hill to -have a look at the castle, the home of the Howards, while -the steak is grilling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the last stage of the journey, along the pleasant -road to Chichester, Chichester of the old market cross, and -here the cars swing to the right towards Midhurst, but the -end of the journey is very near now. The Midhurst Road is -left behind, up hill and down dale sweeps the narrower bye-way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we are, this is Little Stretton!" said Sir Josiah. -"That's the Fighting Cocks, many a good meal I've had -there—hello Dalabey, how are you? Hello Crabb, hello -Monson!" He waves his hand, there are smiles and bobs -and greetings for him. Dalabey could not bow more -profoundly if it had been a Royal Duke, and he could not have -felt more honest respect for so exalted a personage than he -did for the red faced old fellow who waved to him so -pleasantly from the splendid car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're getting near, see that wall, that long wall, that's -Homewood, see them—those gates—those are the Homewood -gates, they are open, they are expecting us of course! -Drive in Bletsoe, drive right in, blow the horn Bletsoe, here -we are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face is beaming. It has been a jolly journey, a rare -holiday in the September sunshine, but perhaps this is the -most pleasant part of it all. Here is Homewood, the gates -stand open, they drive through, the hall door stands open -too!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And here is Kathleen; she has heard the wheels, she comes -hurrying out. No servants shall open the hall door to Sir -Josiah and carry Sir Josiah's card to the lady of the house, -that would be but a poor welcome. So my Lady Kathleen, -all smiling and dimpling, runs down the steps and springs -lightly onto the running board of the car and puts her arms -around his neck and kisses him before them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome," she says, "welcome, I've been watching for -you for hours!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yes, this is the pleasantest part of the whole journey after -all!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="after-ten-years"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">AFTER TEN YEARS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Kathleen had looked forward to conducting Sir -Josiah and his friends around the house and grounds. -But though she knew that he was pleased and happy to have -her with them, though he took a delight in her company, yet -her presence embarrassed them all a little, even Sir Josiah -himself. How could he be the showman when she was near? -How could he tell Coombe how much money he had spent on -this and that? How crush Cutler with the magnificence of -the rooms and dazzle Jobson with the extent and the beauty -of the gardens?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen, with her rare tact and intelligence saw it in a -moment. Coombe had allowed his cigar to go out, Jobson -looked nervous. Sir Josiah, while he beamed on her, had -scarce a word to say. Only Cutler seemed to be at his ease -and was telling her about his daughter's establishment in -Demauritius, in which island she was the Lady of the -Governor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen put her hand through Sir Josiah's arm, she drew -him aside a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you to shew them round, shew them everything, -you know so much more about it all than I do! It is all your -doing, you knew it as it was, you can describe it so much -better than I can, and besides I'm terribly busy," she smiled -at him. "You know my father is coming and he's bringing -some other guest who I do not know. Allan will be back -soon, he is terribly busy these days," she laughed softly. "He -is at One Tree Hill Farm with old Mr. Custance; they have -great schemes; Allan is going to make his fortune!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless me!" said Sir Josiah. "Allan is!—well, well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I must run away," she said. She smiled at him and -hurried into the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But from the window she watched them with bright eyes, -she saw Sir Josiah stretch his hand, pointing this way and -that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought to have seen it, you ought, Coombe. Derelict -wasn't the word for it. Weeds that high, my boy; now look, -look at it. Jobson, what do you say to this for a garden, -hey? and you, Cutler, you wait till you see the house. It's -something to see I promise you, and six months ago, six -months ago, my boy, you ought to have seen it, then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man was himself again, that tender, kindly, loving -greeting had warmed his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll bet it was her thought, keeping the gates open," he -thought to himself. "It's like her to think of little things -like that. Things that make just all the difference."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tidy place," said Coombe, "good taste, too; shouldn't -be surprised if her Ladyship had a good deal to say in the -management of this garden."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her ladyship has a good deal to say in the management -of everything," said Sir Josiah, "and quite right she should. -A place like this is a natural environment for her, while for -me and my boy Allan, though he's twice—" he paused, "twice -the gentleman I am—" he had been going to say, but these -were Jobson, Cutler and Coombe, men he kept up his dignity -with to a certain extent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the old boy say to it, hey?" asked Coombe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old boy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Earl—Gowerhurst—what's he say to it all, hey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh he—I don't think he's been down yet, but he's -coming, they are expecting him to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll lay he don't know that I'm here," Coombe said. "If -he did he wouldn't show up, not he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why not?" asked Sir Josiah. "Why not, Coombe? -I'd like to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Money, my boy, money! I've had dealings with his -Lordship before. His Lordship knows me well enough; bet -you a fiver, Homewood, when the old boy sees me he'll turn -green."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope," said Sir Josiah with great dignity, "that here -in my daughter-in-law's house there is not going to be any -discussion about money matters. No shop, Coombe, no shop. -We owe it at least to Lady Kathleen to behave like gentlemen -when we are her guests."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coombe looked at the old gentleman out of the corner of -his eyes. "Quite right, Homewood, I should be sorry to be -guilty of any disrespect to so charming and kind hearted a -young lady I'm sure. The only wonder to me is that such -a father should have such a child." Coombe winked broadly -at Jobson, a very humorous man, Mr. Coombe, and fond of -his little joke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now came Allan, who had been delayed by the garrulous -but competent Mr. Custance. He gripped his father -by the hand and thrust his hand through the old gentleman's -arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was kindly and courteous to Coombe, whom he did not -like, and to Jobson and Cutler, whom he esteemed because -they were his father's friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've seen Kathleen, father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Seen her, yes, why bless her she was waiting on the steps -to welcome us, that's what I call a welcome, Allan. None -of your Society manners with Kathleen, no sending in of -cards and being ushered in by servants. There she was, -bless her pretty face, watching for us and ran down the -steps, she did, and—and well, where have you been, Allan, -hey? I hear you are going to make your fortune."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to have a good try at earning a bit of money, -father, and it can be done; I'll talk to you about it later. -Now come in and have a look at the house, Mr. Coombe, I -am sure would like something."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha!" said Coombe. "Guessed it at once, Allan, my -boy! I've just been wondering how long it would be before -someone made the suggestion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry," Allan said reddening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went in. Kathleen saw them come, but she was -watching for the other visitor, the other guest, whom she -told herself, she would not be half so pleased to see as the -guest who had already arrived.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took herself to task and yet she knew that she could -not try and cheat herself. Her father was her father. It -was Fate—respect for him she had none—that she could not -respect him had been one of the greatest sorrows of her life. -Affection for him she had but very little. She knew him -too well, could read him too easily, understood his thoughts -too clearly and she pitied him for his utter selfishness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew, for she had been old enough to know, something -of her mother's sufferings before death came, not unwelcomed. -He had never been anything to his wife in the presence -of others except polite and courteous, then he treated -her with his usual charm of manner, on which he prided -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had neglected her, ignored her when alone; he stung -her and wounded her with his sneers, his poisoned darts of -contempt and contumely. He had never lifted his hand to -her, yet he had killed her in the end as surely as the drunken -tinker slays the wife of his bosom with a boot heel or the -kitchen poker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Kathleen knew much of this, not quite all perhaps, -but she remembered the suffering of the quiet, pale-faced, -cowed woman whom the young girl had surrounded with a -worshipping, adoring love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she stood watching and listening for the coming of the -car. Who the other guest might be, she did not speculate -on. It was someone in whom she felt not the slightest -interest. In a way she was glad that her father was bringing -a friend of his own choice. It would be someone for him to -talk to. Coombe, Jobson and Cutler would hardly prove to -be associates of whom his lordship would approve. She knew -his feelings toward Sir Josiah and she felt a twinge of shame, -for in a way she had shared those feelings in the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship was in an ill humour. He disliked the -country intensely. The only occasions when he found the -country at all bearable was, when one of a large house party, -there was some shooting to be done in the daytime and -unlimited bridge, billiards or baccarat to while away the -night. That he would not find these amusements waiting -him at Homewood he was fully aware.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the journey from London Bridge to Longworthy, -he was fidgety and faultfinding. The carriage when the -window was up was too hot; when it was down the carriage -was draughty, the seats were dusty, "a disgrace to the -Railway Company." The line, he maintained, was the very -worst laid line in the Kingdom. He was jolted to pieces, -carriages worse sprung than this he had never ridden in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We might have come by car," Scarsdale said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate cars, nasty draughty things, I dislike the smell -of the petrol, the hot oil, the dust, I hate running over -children and dogs. I'm deuced unlucky in a car—never go out -in one unless there's an accident; ran over a child last time -when I was with Lysart, shook my nerves up most confoundedly. -By George, Harold, I blame myself, yes, I take -blame to myself, I do by Gad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For running over the child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm thinking of Kathleen's marriage. I was anxious -about her, deucedly anxious. Kathleen was getting on, I -don't tell everyone, but you know, you the friend of her -childhood, that Kathleen isn't so young as she was. Not -that she's gone off, not a bit of it. I consider Kathleen more -handsome to-day than ever in her life. She comes of the -right stock, Harold, the Stanwys wear well, the men and the -women. My grandmother, begad, was a toast when she was -fifty-five and they say she did not look a day over thirty. -She was a Stanwys by birth, Arabella Stanwys, daughter of -Francis—but this don't interest you. No, I was speaking -of Kathleen. I say that I take blame to myself that I hurried -on the wedding, hurried it on. I'll admit it frankly. Thoughts -of Kathleen caused me sleepless nights. I'm naturally an -affectionate man, a man on whom responsibility weighs -heavily. I realised my position, Harold. 'When I am dead -and gone, Begad!' I said to myself, 'what of Kathleen? -What of my poor, dear child?' You'd have said the same -had you been in my place. Then I fell in with Homewood -in connection with a Company, common old fellow; you'll -dislike him intensely as I do, by gad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so you married Kathleen to his son?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I felt I had to. The girl's future troubled me, -worried me to death, Harold. How was I to know that -you'd come back; how the deuce was I to know that you -hadn't married and settled down; how was I to know that -you——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I had succeeded in life and was in a position to -offer Kathleen a home?" Scarsdale asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it, that's it, begad. The very words I was going -to say. How could I know all that? I did not, I saw the -chance. Allan Homewood isn't a bad fellow, not a gentleman -of course; how could he be with such a father? But quiet -and unassuming, decently educated, sensible. I was torn, -Harold, torn, I confess now that I thought of you—" the -tears came into his lordship's fine eyes, he leaned forward -and gripped Scarsdale's hand. "I thought of you, I thought -to myself, 'If ever that fine young fellow comes back, what -a blow to him, what a blow!' Yet how did I know you were -coming back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you were not to know." Harold Scarsdale stared -out of the window. "I wish, Heaven knows, for many -reasons, I had not come back. I might have known that -Kathleen could not have waited, yet I watched the papers, I saw -no engagement, no marriage announced and I clung to hope, -then—" he laughed shortly. "I ought not to be here now, -Lord Gowerhurst, it's the weakest, most foolish thing I have -ever done, yet you say you wrote and told Kathleen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did, I did, 'pon my honour I did, wrote to her and said -I was bringing you down and she wrote and said she'd be -delighted to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which was very kind and very friendly of her," said -Scarsdale with a bitter sneer, "and proves that she doesn't -care a hang for me now, and in all probability never did." He -laughed again and his lordship, not quite knowing why, -laughed too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen was waiting, she heard the car wheels, the hoot -of the horn as the car swung in through the open gateway. -She could do no less to welcome her own father than she -had done to welcome Allan's. She hurried out, and descended -the steps, there was a smile on her face, her hand was held -out, then suddenly she stopped. The smile seemed to set on -her face, which had grown rigid, and suddenly very white; -the outstretched hand shook and fell to her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So for a moment she stood there, wide eyed, conscious of -the violent throbbing of her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After—ten years—and so they faced one another again. -And the man knew that her father had lied to him and that -his coming was all unexpected by her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was only for a moment, just one moment, that -was yet enough to betray her to those keen, eager, watchful -eyes. Then she came forward, calmly, with an artificial -smile on her lips. She took her father's hand, she kissed -him, what she said she hardly knew, she touched the other -man's hand. She told him that his coming was an -unexpected pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jardine, the chauffeur, holding open the door of the car -saw nothing out of the common. James, the footman, -coming down the steps to take the rugs and handbags, little -dreamed that here was a meeting between lovers who ten -years ago had parted in tears and an agony of heartbroken -hopelessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Lady Kathleen was herself again, she was smiling, -and if the colour had not yet returned to her cheeks, who -was to notice so insignificant a fact? Not James and -Jardine, not Lord Gowerhurst certainly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so this is Homewood, eh Kathleen? Quite a nice -little place; reminds me a little of—of Clamberwick, -Normandyke'a seat in Cumberland, but smaller of course, a -great deal smaller. Had some deuced good fishing there I -remember. Thought you'd like to see Harold again, hey? -By the way he is Sir Harold now, Governor of somewhere -or other. The world's treated him decently, yes decently, -eh Harold? And quite right too, I like to see a man work -his way up in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad to hear it," Kathleen said. "I am sure that -any fortune that has come to Mr. Scar—to Sir Harold -Scarsdale, has been fairly and honestly won—and thoroughly -deserved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, nicely put, very simply and nicely put, eh -Scarsdale?" said his lordship. "Give me your arm, my -dear, I'm confoundedly cramped, getting to be an old fellow -now. One of these days I may ask my daughter to find -some corner, some out of-the-way corner by the fire for the -old man, eh? Some obscure place where the old man may sit -and dream away his last days. It's the fall of the leaf, my -dear, the fall of the leaf. As I rode through your beautiful -country a while ago, I saw the leaves all strewn on the road -and I thought—as with the year, so with me—my leaves are -falling, all wrinkled and brown. And yet it seems but -yesterday since I put them on so fresh and green, hey, so fresh -and green and—and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was talking the arrant nonsense he loved, in the -self-pitying style Kathleen knew only too well. She shivered, -but not with her usual impatience of the humbug of it. How -had he dared—dared to bring this man? How had he dared -to make friendly overtures to one whom he had grossly and -cruelly insulted ten years ago? And Harold himself? It -shocked her to think that he could come here—that he could -bring himself to accept her and Allan's hospitality. She had -not looked at him since that first quick glance, and short -though that had been, it had shewn her the change in him. -The boy she had known—and loved—was gone—this man, -she felt, she hardly knew. She asked herself even now, had -she foolishly made an ideal of that lad, or had she idealised -her love for him? she wondered—but it hurt her that he -was here now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Gowerhurst, leaning far more heavily than he need -on her arm, entered the house. He betrayed no interest in -it. The finely panelled walls, the carefully selected and -diligently sought after "Period" furniture, the vista from -the windows of the wonderful old English garden in its -autumnal glory, interested him not at all. He was talking -of himself, which was the most interesting topic he could -think of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not eating too well, my dear, a bad sign, hey, a bad -sign, and my sleep is broken—terribly broken. I never was -one of the "fat kine" my love, but I'm growing noticeably -thinner. I declare to you that Crombie, my man, is -positively shocked at the falling off in my girth and Darbey, -my tailor, poor fellow, is getting quite anxious about me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen told herself that she ought to have known, ought -to have anticipated it, yet she felt hurt that he took so little -interest in her home. He never looked at anything; he sat -down in a delightful Hepplewhite chair, a chair that the -great Davenham had undertaken a seventy-five mile journey -to secure. He sat down in the chair and stared at the very -pointed toes of his exquisite boots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not my own man, no, my love, I don't wish to pain -you, I know how sensitive you are, what a loving heart my -child has; I don't wish to rouse one anxiety in your mind, -my love, but I feel age, old age creeping on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen sat facing him, there was a set smile on her white -lips. She heard him and did not realise one word that he -was uttering, perhaps she had heard it all so often before -that it was not worth listening to now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is here, he is here. Here under this roof, here in this -very room." The man who had written her those passionate -love letters, letters which she had blistered with her tears, -letters which she had destroyed at last with an aching heart -and feelings of reverence and solemnity. How often, his -voice calling to her, had come up out of the past, "Kathleen, -I love you. Kathleen, come with me, risk all, give all, dare -all, but come—come with me because I love you so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And how nearly, how nearly she had said yes. Sometimes -she wondered why she had not said yes, for it was in her -heart to listen and to go—yet she had not, and now he was -here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was she glad? No, no, no! Yet was she sorry? How -could she answer, how could she tell?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darbey, of Dover Street, you remember, my love, my -tailor, though Heaven knows I don't patronise the poor -fellow one half as much as he deserves. I tell you Darbey -was shocked; he said to me, almost with tears in his eyes -and his voice shaking with emotion, 'My lord,' he said, 'I'm -sorry to tell your lordship that your present measurements -shew a falling off of two and a half inches at the waist, it's -a serious thing.' He begged and besought me to consult a -physician, but I did not. No, no, what does it matter after -all? When I look about me and see your charming home—" -he had not looked about him in the slightest degree, "then -I realise that I have done what I could. I have seen to it -that my child is—Don't I hear voices, hey, Kathleen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He certainly did, from the adjoining room came Coombe's -big bass voice:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Josiah Homewood is here and he has brought some -friends——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friends, eh! bless me, friends of Homewood, very -interesting." His lordship laughed a thin, cackling, unpleasant -laugh. "My dear Harold, I think I can promise you some -amusement, Sir Josiah Homewood is——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is my husband's father," Kathleen said, and her cheeks -suddenly blazed with generous colour. "He is also my very -dear friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And therefore entitled to the respect and esteem of all -men," said Scarsdale quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned to him for the first time, looked at him, and -saw the many changes in him. She looked for some sign, -something that would recall the boy lover of long ago, and -it seemed to her that she looked in vain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My husband's father has been very kind, very generous -and good to us," she said. "There are few for whom I have -a greater esteem and a deeper affection than I have for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coombe, putting down his empty glass, looked out of the -window and saw the empty car turning towards the Garage. -He gripped Jobson's arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The nobility and gentry have now arrived," he whispered. -"This is going to be as good as a play, Jobson. Keep -your eye on me and watch old Gowerhurst, I'll bet it'll be -amusing, you watch out, Jobson, he, he. Watch him turn -green. Last time I saw the old boy he tried to borrow a -couple of thousand, but no thanks, not taking any, said I. -Securities too deuced rotten—rotten as his own confounded -reputation. Almost wept to me, the old fellow did, but -once bitten—twice shy—he had four hundred out of me -once and I'd like to see the colour of my money; a shark, -a confounded oily slimy old leech, that's what he is. Button -your pockets up, Jobson, my son, when his nobility, the Earl -of Gowerhurst, is about the premises."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this was in an undertone to Jobson, who looked and -felt very uncomfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan and his father had been talking in a low voice, and -now Allan turned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think my wife is with her father in the drawing room; -shall we go in?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, let's go in," Sir Josiah said. "It's a long time -since I saw his lordship; I trust his lordship is quite well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His lordship won't be so jolly well presently," whispered -Coombe to Jobson, "it's going to be as good as a play, watch -the fun." And Coombe winked at Jobson knowingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the door of the drawing room opened and Allan, -holding his father's arm, came in, followed by Jobson, Cutler -and Coombe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old fat common fellow;" thought his lordship, then -suddenly remembering that in the very near future he would -in all probability require the assistance of the "old fat -common fellow," he rose and held out a friendly generous hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Delighted to see you, Homewood. Looking well, positively -well, you are, ha, ha, you busy men with interests in -life, you're much to be envied."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan," Kathleen touched his arm. "Allan, I want to -present you to a—a friend, an old friend whom my father has -brought down with him." Her voice shook, yet so little that -Allan, unobservant as he was, noticed nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Harold Scarsdale. My husband!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan's hand was thrust out, his face lighted with pleasure -and frank and friendly welcome.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm delighted to see you, Sir Harold," he said, "it's kind -of you to come to such an out-of-the-world place as this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've been out of England for many years, and it's a great -pleasure to me to see my own country again and—and my -old friends." Scarsdale's voice shook a little. Why had he -come, why had he come? Gowerhurst had lied to him vilely, -when he had told him that Kathleen was expecting him and -had expressed pleasure at the thought of seeing him; what -a liar the man was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Kathleen, how little she had altered. The years had -robbed her of nothing, he remembered her as a sweet faced, -lovely girl; he saw her now a radiantly beautiful woman. -Yes, the years had been kind to her. How often had he -thought of her, pictured her to himself. How had he, many -a time, lain awake in the sweltering heat of the tropical -nights and tried to picture her, and yet the reality, how -immeasurably superior it was to the vision his dreams had -conjured up. And while he was thinking these things, he -was talking to her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship's calm superiority always made Sir Josiah -feel a little nervous, made him realise his own inferior -station in life. He was feeling it now, he was conscious of a -sensation of undue heat. He had been cool enough five -minutes ago in the dining room, now he was visibly perspiring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, her Ladyship, Lady Kathleen, was so kind as to -ask us to run down, me and a few friends, ha, ha. As your -lordship says we busy City men are much to be envied in -one way, but when it comes to a holiday—ha, ha." He -paused nervously. "We're always glad to get a week-end -off, ain't we, Cutler? Let me introduce you, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship frowned. He was not accustomed to be -introduced to common persons like Cutler; Cutler, the common -person, should have been presented to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Cutler, Senior Partner of Cutler, Cutler and Wakethorpe, -his daughter is Governor of—of—I forget the name. -Jobson, let me introduce Lord Gowerhurst—" Sir Josiah -went on, persisting in doing the honours the wrong way -about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monied men no doubt, rich, opulent men, Lord Gowerhurst -thought; just as well to keep in with them, one never -knows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How de do Mr.—er—Johnson." He held out a finger -and Jobson took it and shook it solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coombe," said Sir Josiah, "my friend, Mr. Coombe, -my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! ha!" said Coombe, "I've had the pleasure of meeting -his lordship before; how de do, my lord? Hope I see -you well?" He held out a large, red and moist hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now was the moment, the moment for Jobson to hold his -sides, the moment to witness the discomfiture of this Peer -of the Realm. Did his lordship start? Did he turn pale? -Did he tremble and turn green, as Coombe had prophesied?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, he did not; he looked at Coombe, he put his monocle -very slowly and deliberately in his eye and took another -look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Pon my soul, Mr.—er—Groom, did you say Groom, -Sir Josiah?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Coombe," said Sir Josiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon, Mr.—er—Coombe, 'pon my soul, I -don't recall the pleasure." Very insolently his lordship -looked Mr. Coombe up and down and Mr. Coombe turned -red; the joke was not so good as he had thought it would be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Langworthy," he said, "you remember Langworthy's -business, my Lord?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Langworthy, really did I meet you at Hansbar, my -friend, Sir George Langworthy's house? I haven't been -there, let me see, for three years, and the last time——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it wasn't there neither," said Coombe angrily. "It -was in my City Office I met your lordship and it wasn't -Sir George Langworthy, it was quite a different Langworthy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed?" said his lordship politely, "indeed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Coombe's hot hand dropped to his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't recall your face, 'pon my soul I am afraid I don't. -But one sees so many faces, hey? And now—my dear Homewood, -tell me all about the wonderful things you have been -doing here." And his lordship turned his back on -Mr. Coombe with marked deliberation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coombe clenched his fists.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supercilious beast!" he muttered. "I'll teach him, I -ain't done with him yet, not by a long sight, I haven't. You -wait, Jobson——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Jobson turned and stared out into the garden through -the window. He was losing faith in the ability of Coombe -to make Peers of the Realm feel unhappy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mr-coombe-wears-a-white-tie"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MR. COOMBE WEARS A WHITE TIE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Kathleen had given them tea, she had chatted and -laughed, she had concealed every feeling and every -thought with that skill that is acquired by every intelligent, -well educated woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How daintily she presided over the tea tray. Her white -hand never trembled—was it three lumps or only two that -Sir Josiah took? What a kind, friendly glance she flashed -at Allan as he took his father's cup from her hand. How -should Allan know, how should anyone in that room, save -perhaps one, know that every nerve in her delicate body was -quivering, that in her heart there was a mingled fear and -joy, gladness and sorrow, anxiety for the future, and regret -for the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No tea for me, child, the doctor positively forbids it, -positively," his lordship said; he sighed. "No one appreciates -a cup of tea more than I, but I am obliged to forego -it. One has to give up many things, eh Sir Josiah, the -falling leaf must not be too roughly dealt with, else perhaps it -will fall even before its time. No, no tea for me, my love, -but if I might beg a glass of soda water—just a glass of -plain soda water—with perhaps the merest, the very merest -touch of brandy, hey Allan, just to take the bite off the -soda water, so to speak?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coombe, sipping tea which he had no love for, eyed his -enemy the peer, malevolently. His lordship, he noticed, -reversed the programme, it was the merest touch of the soda -water to take the bite off the brandy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Owes me four hundred and treats me like dirt, hanged -if I don't bung a writ into him!" thought Coombe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He happened to be sitting near to Lord Gowerhurst and -presently his lordship adjusted his monocle and stared at -Coombe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, ha, Mr. Groom, I think that you were telling me -just now that we had met at Hansbar, Langworthy's place -in Somerset? Have you known the Langworthys long, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't say anything of the kind," Coombe growled -sullenly. "I said——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, I remember, some other Langworthy, quite so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll bet a shilling," Coombe whispered under his breath, -"I'll bet a shilling, my lord, as you remember me a sight -better than you pretend you do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gowerhurst regarded Coombe's hot red face coldly and -critically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never, I never remember anyone I prefer to forget, -my dear Mr. Groom," he said. "It's an excellent plan—eh? -An excellent plan, saves a great deal of trouble and -annoyance, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now Kathleen was alone, she had come to her room, -she had locked the door on herself. She sat down by the -window and put her elbows on the sill and rested her chin on -her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had come back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had almost stunned her, its unexpectedness and suddenness. -She had not had time to realise what it all meant, all -that she could realise was, that he was here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw herself now, as she had been, a girl of eighteen, -a girl deeply, desperately in love; she remembered how she -had lain through long, sleepless nights, tossing on her pillow. -How willingly in those days she would have gone with him -into direst poverty, the deeper the poverty how much more -would she have gloried in it. To tramp the roads by his -side, to sing in the streets with him, to crouch beside him -under some friendly hedge for the night—yes, she would -have done that very willingly and yet—yet perhaps common -sense, perhaps the hereditary instinct of her kind had kept -her from such folly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she had loved him. Now, sitting here, she was -realising that perhaps she had loved him more—more after he -had gone and left her as she believed forever, than she had -actually loved him while he was yet with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is often the way, when the beloved object ceases to be -real and tangible, when he becomes a memory—with what -virtues can we clothe him? In memory we only recall all -the good, the best that was in him—memory charitably forgets -the numerous little faults, the tiny acts of selfishness, -the little outbursts of foolish temper. No, they are all gone. -So, because he was the beloved object, memory is eager to -idealise him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps it had been so with her—yet she had loved him—she -had thrilled to the passion in his boyish voice, to the -love in his boyish, ardent eyes. A child's love, a school -girl's love, her father had said. "My dear child, I'm a man -of the world and you are a young Miss who has only just -learned to do her back hair up; accept it from me, the person -who marries his or her first love lives to regret it. First -love is merely a kind of preliminary canter, it's good -exercise, provided you don't take it too seriously, but if you do -take it seriously why then it is the deuce and all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled to herself, recalling her father's words. It -had been her first love and her only love, it had lived with -her for ten years and during those ten years it had seemed -to her to have grown stronger, better, purer. It had perhaps -made her a little cold to the world about her, yet in reality it -had made her heart more tender, had made her more prone -to sympathy and tenderness and kindness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why had he come, why had he come back? She clenched -her hands tightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The few short months of her married life with Allan had -been quiet and peaceful, uneventful, happy, yes happy! she -had always liked him, she liked him better now than she had -before he had given his name to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She liked him better and yet better every day, she liked -him because he confided in her, because he was honest and -open with her, because while he lavished no caresses on her, -for would not caresses have been humbug and hypocrisy, -he gave her a quiet affection and respect that won her heart -to him. He had told her of his plans with old Custance, -how he would make money and help repay his father a little -of the much that his father had done for them both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he had promised once that if ever—ever love -came to him, the love that nearly always comes knocking -at a man's heart at some time in his life, he would tell her -candidly and truthfully and they would face the fact -together. And she for her part had promised that she would -tell him if—the lover of long ago should come back into -her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he had come, and so she must tell him, as she had -promised to do; she must be honest and truthful with Allan, -surely he deserved that of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a tap on the door and Kathleen rose and opened -it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lady, 'ee'll be wanting me? I've been waiting for the -bell, my lady, but 'ee didn't ring it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Betty, I didn't ring, but—but come in. Betty, what -is the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Matter? Oh, my lady, nothing du be the matter wi' I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your face is white, child, and your eyes look red -from crying. Is there anything wrong, Betty? Have you -seen your grandmother and is she still angry with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bain't seen her, my—my lady, and I du not care whether -her be still angry wi' me or not—for it be all the same to I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shouldn't say that, child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For never, never will I marry Abram, my—my lady, -never will I. Sooner would I drownd myself in the river, -which I would du gaily, aye gaily, my lady, than—than -marry Abram who I never could abide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen smiled. "There need be no talk of that now, -Betty, surely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my lady, but I can't help thinking about it, specially -when I du see Abram loitering about the green gate, my -lady, and know he du be waiting for I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I will see that he is not permitted to loiter there, -as you dislike him so much, Betty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hate him, I du, I hate him mortally, my lady, I du. -Oh, my lady, his hands du be terribul, terribul; if 'ee did -see 'em they would make you shudder like they do I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But perhaps you dislike this poor Abram so much, Betty, -because there is someone else?" Kathleen asked. "Is that the -truth, my little maid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my lady, I—I doan't know, I doan't know. No, no, -there bain't anyone else, no one else—I promise, I swear, -my lady, there bain't, there couldn't be! How could there -be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen took her hand, she held it, it was very hot, this -small hand of the girl's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, child," she said, "you are not well this evening, -your hand is hot and—" she lifted her hand to Betty's forehead, -that cool, white, slender hand of hers, and let it rest -there for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your head is hot, too, child, you had better go to -bed and presently I will ring and ask that something is -taken to you. No, Betty, don't wait, I can manage quite -well to-night; go to bed, child, and go to sleep and forget -all your troubles, and if you don't want Abram, why then, -Betty, you shall not have Abram and no one shall force you -to." She pushed the silken fair hair back from the girl's -forehead; she smiled af her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now to bed, Betty, and to sleep and forget all your little -troubles, child, and to-morrow come to me with a smile on -your lips as I would have you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—my lady, if—if I could only dare—dare tell—'ee," -Betty cried passionately. She caught Kathleen's hand and -held it with both her own. "If only I could dare——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dare what? Betty, tell me, child, if there is anything——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, I can't, I be mad to speak of it even—I think -I be going mad altogether, my lady, sometimes I du think I -bain't like other maids wi' such foolish strange notions that -I get. I can't—can't tell 'ee, my lady, doan't ask me, for -I can't—I can't." And then Betty flung the kind hand away -and rushed to the door, fumbled for a moment with the lock, -and then opened the door, fled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so," Kathleen said, "we all have our troubles, our -fears and our loves, Betty and I and all Eve's daughters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dressed herself, it was no hardship or novelty to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at herself in the glass without vanity, but -rather with a curious interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm twenty-eight," she said, "in a few months I shall -be twenty-nine—yet I have no wrinkles and there are no -silver threads yet—I wonder—I wonder does he think me -much changed? He is changed, greatly changed, yet I knew -him, of course I knew him; I should have known him among -ten thousand, I should have known him had he come in rags -and poverty, just as I knew him, now he has come to me -in his prosperity and health and strength."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went down the stairs, she went into the drawing room -and found, as she had almost feared she would find, that he -was there alone. He came forward eagerly to greet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen, are you angry with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I be angry, Harold?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would have been better, kinder to me if—if you had -stayed away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And kinder to myself," he said bitterly. "Kathleen, -do—do you think that this does not mean suffering to me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father told me you—you knew and approved, that -you would be glad to welcome me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But now I know that that was untrue; you did not know -that I was coming——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not know," she said. "No, I did not know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen, Kathleen, you waited so long, all—all those -years and yet not quite long enough; another few months, -if only you had waited another few months, Kathleen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned to him suddenly, her face bright, her cheeks -flushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—you have seen him, my husband, you have taken -his hand, you—you are here, his guest—our honoured -guest—the past is dead and gone; I waited—ten years—" her -voice broke for a moment, "then I looked at your letters for -the last time and—and burned them all, and when I saw -their black ashes in the grate, I knew that from that moment -my new life began, a life that could not, must not, hold -memories of a past. It was Fate and we—we must accept -it; I have accepted it—so we—you and I—we meet again—as -friends—" She held out her hand to him, she smiled at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her hand and held it tightly, he looked into her -eyes, then he groaned, he bent his head and kissed the hand -before he let it go, and then from beyond the door there came -the sound of voices, Coombe's loud and dominant, argumentative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not wear a white tie with a dinner jacket, Jobson? I -tell you I'll wear any tie I like—and if people don't like it, -they can do the other thing. A black tie makes me look like -a waiter, by George, and I won't wear 'em. And if I want -to wear a pink or a sky blue tie, why hang it, I'll wear it. -And if it isn't the fashion, well I'll make the fashion like -that fellow Beau—Beau Brummagem, or whatever his -confounded name was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All unknowingly Coombe had struck the right note, he -had done Kathleen a service. A dead and gone love, burned -love-letters, ten long years of waiting, of hoping and -praying and nothing to reward the faithfulness and the -loyalty—what mattered all that? Away with melancholy thoughts, -away with sadness and regrets—poor Romance must fly for -the moment and hide her diminished head before the -advance of a stout gentleman in evening dress, wearing a white -tie. Kathleen smiled. Honest Mr. Coombe little knew how -grateful his hostess felt to him at that moment.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-belong-to-thee"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"I BELONG TO THEE"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lord Gowerhurst justly prided himself on the -"Stanwys manner" which he had to perfection. If -he were formal he carried his formality with grace, he was -studiously polite, he was courteous, urbane—and a wet -blanket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He crushed utterly those four jolly City gentlemen, who -would have been ten times happier if his lordship and his -manner had not been there. Sir Josiah, seated on the right -hand of his daughter-in-law, perspired freely from sheer -nervousness, mingled with a kind of admiration and awe. -Jobson and Cutler were noticeably ill at ease, and consumed -by anxiety lest they might say or do the wrong thing. -Mr. Coombe was resentful and would have been sarcastic had he -dared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That man, sitting facing Mr. Coombe, fingering the -stem of his wineglass with his delicate white fingers, -monopolising the conversation with his confounded drawling -aristocratic voice and his infernal air of superiority, who was he? -Was not he the same man who one day had come cringing -into his, Coombe's, office hoping to raise a loan of two -thousand on some rotten securities; was not he the same man -who had well nigh wept when the loan had not materialised?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And there he sits," thought Coombe, "there he sits, -treating us all as if we were dirt, looking down on us, the -rotten, humbugging, insolvent old—old—beast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one could find fault with the dinner, indeed his lordship -gracefully congratulated his daughter on the excellence -of her chef. Good Mrs. Crozier had watched over everything -and had seen to everything, and a lady of her experience -was scarcely likely to allow a dinner to go to table that would -not be a credit to the household over which she ruled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wines, too, were above reproach, Sir Josiah had -spared no expense in this matter, but there was something -wrong with the atmosphere, yes the atmosphere was all -wrong. Sir Josiah could not find one word to say. Even -Cutler was unable to introduce an observation concerning -the island of Demauritius, its Governor and the Governor's -wife, his daughter. Jobson was frankly and noticeably -unhappy, and in his agitation had splashed his white shirt front -with gravy. Coombe was oppressed, angry and bitter, -trying hard to find something to say that would take the wind -out of the sails of that drawling, dandified, supercilious -aristocrat on the other side of the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen had her own thoughts and the subject of them -was sitting beside her on her left, facing Sir Josiah. She -could feel his eyes on her now and again, she tried to laugh -and to talk frankly and freely, but she was conscious of a -weight, of a fear, of joy, she hardly knew what.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Allan, too, his thoughts had strayed away from that -unhappy dining table. They were out in the garden, not -in the garden as it was now, all shrouded in the soft -darkness of the summer night, but in a garden filled with -sunshine, sunshine that touched and glorified a little head of -gold, that lighted up a sweet, oval face and glistened on -eyes as blue as the skies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why, why, why? He asked himself and could scarce -frame the question. How much less the answer to it. Better -that she should go, but poor child, how unfair to her. Yet -he could not go; how could he? And to live here, under the -same roof, to see her, perhaps every day, to have that strange -memory, which was yet no memory, recalled every time he -saw her. How could it be, how could he be loyal to -Kathleen? Why should that girl, that child whom he had seen -but once, mean so much to him? How were their lives -connected; what could some unknown past have held, a past -that affected their present and their future so greatly?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coombe had grasped the opportunity. There had come -a lull, Coombe seized on it, he began a story in a loud voice. -It was about a deal in some shares. Coombe, in his eagerness -to talk, grew involved, he floundered. He appealed to -Sir Josiah, Sir Josiah who frowned, remembering that he -had instructed Coombe that there was to be no "shop." Coombe -saw the frown and got more mixed than before, Sir -Josiah had let him down. He turned to Jobson, but Jobson -had no help to offer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anyhow, there it was, Munston bought seven thousand -and fifty and Lockyer I forget how many, and the bottom -fell out of the market see, ha, ha."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now that is very interesting, very interesting indeed, -Mr.—er—Groom—my dear Allan, you and I are not business -men, Mr. Groom here is a business man, it is quite -interesting to hear these stories, eh? Of course we don't -understand 'em, Allan, because, as I say, we are not business -men. I have no doubt but that it is an excellent story, but -I don't understand it, no, be gad, I don't see the point. -It's the same with golfing stories, they may be deuced funny, -but when you don't understand them, well you don't, and -that's all there is to say to it. Which reminds me of -Normandyke—you remember the Duke of Normandyke, my -love? His place at Clamberwick was recalled to me by this -little place of yours. Of course your home, elegant though -it is, is a mere cottage in comparison; Clamberwick is one -of the great houses—" and so on and so on, belittling his -daughter's house with cheerful patronage and intense -superiority, till the colour flamed into Kathleen's cheeks, born -of the generous indignation in her heart. She slipped her -hand under the table and her cool white fingers closed round -Sir Josiah's thick old hand, and pressed it in silent -sympathy, love and gratitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand, my dear, I understand," the old gentleman -whispered. "This Clamberwick may be a great place, my -dear, and beyond an old fellow like me, but I'd give you -ten such places if I could, and you'd be fit to reign over the -lot of 'em."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I wouldn't exchange Homewood for all the Clamberwicks -in the world. You made it for us and gave it to us, -and I love it for its own and the giver's sake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would not tell Allan to-night, she watched Allan. -He looked, she thought, a little unhappy, this house party -was weighing on his mind. No, she would not tell him -to-night, she would wait till after they were all gone. She -would keep her promise, of course, and when Harold -Scarsdale had gone, when they had bidden one another farewell, -and it would be for the last time, she would tell him that -it must be for the last time, and as he was a gentleman he -would understand and so—so when she told Allan, she -would be able to tell him that she had seen the man again, -that he had come and gone, and this time forever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt easier, lighter and happier now she had made -up her mind. She went to the drawing room and played -and sang. Scarsdale, beside the piano, watched her, he -turned her music. Now and again he spoke to her, -reminding her of some song that called up the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you sing one of them to me, Kathleen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, not to-night, please don't ask me, I—I don't -want to think of the past. I told you—there is no past—I -burned it with the old letters—it is ashes now." Her lips -trembled as she looked up at him and smiled at him. "It -is better so, is it not? You know it is. So to-night I shall -sing the new songs, the old ones belong to the past and are -dead with it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I could only think as you think, or do you think as -you speak, Kathleen, do you believe what you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I believe it, I know it, it is true."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship, having made a very good dinner, had selected -the easiest chair in the room and settled himself down -comfortably. Sir Josiah and his friends drifted to the -smoking room and their cigars and their talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship, taking his ease in his chair, had fallen into -a sweet, refreshing slumber, for which he would have to -pay presently when bed-time came. Kathleen was singing -at the piano with this old friend of hers. Allan looked at -them both. He did not quite know what to make of this -old friend of Kathleen's, this man Scarsdale. He had not -summed him up yet; on the whole he thought he did not -much like him. To-night Allan felt in no mood to join his -father and his friends, had Sir Josiah been alone it would -have been different. Kathleen was interested in her friend. -His lordship was asleep, Allan crossed the room quietly, -opened a French window, and passed out into the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When a man is face to face with a problem, he must -wrestle with it, find an answer to it and act on his own -finding. A man who thrusts the thing behind him and leaves -it all in the hands of Fate is little better than a coward, -and Allan Homewood was no coward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this garden he had dreamed a dream and in that dream -there had come to him the sweetest little maid on whom -the sun had ever shone, and though his eyes had never beheld -her before, yet he knew that she came to him as no stranger, -but rather as some sweet vision or memory out of a past, -which past had never been, in this life at least, and when -the dream had gone he had awakened with a feeling of loss -that had stayed with him for many days till at last he had -managed to banish that feeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now, now a living girl, the very maid of his dreams, -had come to him and he had looked at her and known her for -the same, and all the old tenderness, the love for her had -come welling up in his heart again. And she, strangely, -seemed to know him even as he knew her. Had she not called -him Allan? Had she not looked at him with that same -strange light in her blue eyes as had shone in those of the -little maid of his dreams?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does it mean?" he whispered. "And what am I -to do? Send her away? That would be cruel and unkind, -poor little soul." Where had she to go to; why banish her -for no fault of her own? And yet how impossible for him -to go. But to meet her every day, to see those blue eyes of -hers with their strange expression, half pleading, half -fearful—to know, for he did know, and must know that this -little maid for some strange reason loved him, as he must -love her. What should he do? Would Kathleen help him -when he told her as tell her he must—yes, he would rely -on her sane judgment, on her generous nature, on her sweet -womanliness. She would know how to act; he would place -it all in Kathleen's hands and all would be well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt relieved to think that he had arrived at some -definite conclusion. Kathleen would—he paused suddenly -and lifted his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the soft darkness there came to him a sound, the -sound of sobbing, as of some child weeping bitterly in its -loneliness. It touched him, for he was tender hearted to a -fault. Who was it? He went on quickly, yet softly, so as -not to frighten or disturb the child. And then he found -her, crouching on the stone seat, near the sundial, the slender -body bent, the little hands clasped over her face. He knew -her at once, he saw the sheen of her hair in the dim light -and stood still for a moment, yet the piteous sobbing, the -heaving of the shoulders hurt him and he stretched out his -hand and touched her gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty," he said, "Betty, why are you here and crying, -child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not start, she lifted her head slowly, her hands -dropped, he could see her face dimly, white in the starlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do I find you here alone, Betty, and weeping?" -he asked gently. "Are you in some trouble or suffering?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I doan't know, I doan't know," she cried suddenly, -she flung out her arms with a gesture of despair. "I doan't -understand it all, and it du frighten me, it du. Oh, I be -terribul frightened of it all, I be, frightened and -yet—glad." She looked up at him. He could see the oval face -more clearly now, the shining eyes and the trembling red -lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took both her hands suddenly and held them tightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, what does it all mean? Can you tell me, for I -do not understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor du I understand," she said. "Oh, tell me, Allan, -tell me, did 'ee know me when—Oh, sir—forgive." She -broke off suddenly and her head dropped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, what were you going to ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted her head again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did 'ee know me as I knew 'ee, yesterday when I came -here and—and found 'ee here, Allan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I knew you, I knew you, Betty. Once before in a -dream you came to me here in this same place and I cannot -understand why it should have been so. No, I cannot -understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it du frighten me terribul, terribul, it du. How -did I know your name were Allan? How dared—dared I -call 'ee Allan, seeing you be my lady's husband and my -master, and yet I could not help myself, the name did come -from my lips wi'out my knowing it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you never saw me before?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, many, many times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was startled. "You knew me, Betty, you had seen me -before, but when, where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, here in this place, in this garden, but 'ee was so -different then. Grandmother was angry wi' me for coming, -she said I were a bad maid to come here into this old -garden, all weed grown and ramy-shackle that it were, but I -came often—often—and then I used to see—'ee here, Allan, -oh sir." She paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on," he said. "Go on, Betty." And still held her -quivering hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But 'twas not as a fine gentleman as I did see 'ee," she -went on, seeming to gain a little in confidence, though her -voice was still tremulous, "'ee wore a queer old hat and -brown clothes and—and stockings, and heavy shoes wi' brass -buckles to 'em, sir, and for the most part 'ee was working -in the garden, digging sometimes, sometimes at work wi' -hoe or rake, but always working, bending over the flower beds -'ee were, and never, never did I see your face, sir, yet when -I did see your face, I knew it for 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on, go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing more to tell 'ee, sir, only that I, -contrairywise, came here to the old garden and climbed the -wall, I did, and sometimes I did come here of nights when -the moon was shining and it was then I see 'ee, sir, working -here, bending over your work—and I knew—knew—" she -paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You knew——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew as—as oh I—I can't tell 'ee, sir, I daren't tell 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, Betty," he whispered, "tell me," and perhaps -did not know how much tenderness he had put into his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew as 'ee meant summut to me, sir, as—as somehow -it seemed as if 'ee belonged to me and I to thee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dropped her eyes, her hands seemed to flutter in his -and he said nothing, could not, for he did not know what -to say, but he realised that she had put into words that -which was in his own mind, in his own knowledge, just as -he had meant something to her so had she meant something -to him. He had known that in some strange way they -belonged to each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke, to break the silence that had fallen rather than -for any other reason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were unhappy with your grandmother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Terribul, terribul unhappy I were wi' she, sir, for her -willed me to marry Abram."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abram?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abram, aye, Abram Lestwick, sir, whom I du hate and -de-test most terribul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But who is he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandmother willed me to marry him, sir, but I would -not and she be very wrathful wi' I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor little soul," he said gently. "Betty, it seems to -me that strange and perhaps foolish dreams have—have -come to both of us here in this old garden, and we must put -those dreams out of our minds, and face life, child, as it -really is. Just now you reminded me that I am your lady's -husband and I am, and proud and happy that so good and -sweet a woman should be my wife——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good and sweet her be, there bain't none like she; I -would die for her willing, I would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I think I too, Betty, and so—so—" he paused to -listen—out of the darkness there came voices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonderful air, isn't it? I don't know any air like this. -Get a smell of the sea in it, don't you, Cutler, my boy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan dropped the little hands. He felt suddenly ashamed, -felt as though he were about, to be detected in some -wrong-doing, and yet, Heaven above knew, that there had not been -one wrong thought in his brain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would have told her to go, but it was unnecessary. -Very quickly and suddenly she snatched at one of his hands, -he felt it pressed for a moment against burning lips and -then she had gone. He heard the soft rustling of her gown -among the bushes, the light tap of her little shoes, and then -the heavier stolid tread of his father's honest feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan dropped onto the stone bench, and there, a minute -later Sir Josiah found him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, who's here, Allan, Allan, my boy—is it you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, father, come here to dream in the old garden. Won't -you and Mr. Cutler sit here and finish your cigars?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He scarcely knew what he was saying. He was glad that -they had come, and yet perhaps sorry too.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-which-lord-gowerhurst-rises-early"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN WHICH LORD GOWERHURST RISES EARLY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>His lordship had had a bad night. He had gone to -sleep after his dinner, a foolish thing to do. He -had tossed and turned restlessly in a strange bed and he -loathed strange beds. Then after what had seemed to be -interminable hours of sleeplessness and misery, he had fallen -asleep to be awakened in apparently a few minutes by a -feathered chorus in the beech tree, just outside his window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a noise they made, what a commotion with their -piping and their shrill chattering. His Lordship sat up and -solemnly cursed all birds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cock saluted the dawn in the customary manner; -another, apparently some little distance away, took up the -challenge. Lord Gowerhurst heard the crowing receding -farther and farther till it was lost in the distance, then it -came back, seemingly step by step to the original cock that -was somewhere in his immediate neighbourhood. And all -the time the birds kept up their incessant twittering and -chattering and piping till the poor gentleman's nerves were on -edge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rose, he thrust one bony leg from the bed, then the -other. He went to the window, he shook his fist at the -birds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shoo! go away you beasts!" he shouted. "Go away, shoo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He slammed the window down and went back to bed, but -it was useless. He put his head under the clothes, but he -could still hear the babel of sounds. As the sun rose higher -so did the sounds increase; there came the barking of dogs, -the lowing of cattle from the green pastures, a hen had laid -an egg somewhere and was proclaiming the fact triumphantly. -Her husband shouted his joy, the other cocks took -up the chorus. It was Bedlam and Babel let loose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Added to the other sounds of animal and bird life came -presently fresh contributions. A sleepy-eyed servant banged -a pail down somewhere, doors were being opened and shut -with unnecessary vigour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"London, give me London. It's the only place in the -world fit to sleep in, as for this country, this—" His -lordship sat up and exploded with wrath and profanity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would stay in bed no longer, bed was purgatory; it was -but six. He had never risen at six in the morning in his -life. Frequently he had retired at this hour. He rang for -hot water to shave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At his chambers in Maybury Street, Webster, his landlord, -valeted him. Webster shaved him every morning and -dressed him with the same care as a young mother bestows -on her darling. But Webster was employed during the day -at his lordship's club, so had not been able to come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old gentleman's hand shook very severely this morning, -he cut himself twice. He was entirely unhappy and -in the blackest of ill humours when he went downstairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Early as it was, everyone seemed to be up. Sir Josiah, -rosy and cheerful, came in from the garden, looking -ridiculous with a great armful of flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, my lord, nice and early, eh? Lovely -morning, nothing like getting up when the dew's on the -grass, eh?" Then came Cutler, followed by Coombe, offensive -in white flannel trousers; Kathleen, looking as fresh as -the morning itself, came to him and kissed him. She saw -his humour, she knew it of old, the morning was never his -lordship's best time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Happy he who can rise in the morning in a spirit of -kindliness and good humour, who commences the day as he -means to live through it, in good will and amity with all. -Thrice happy they who live with such a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen knew her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like to have breakfast served you alone -quietly in my own little room, dear?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would I what? Hang it! do you want to get rid of me? -Am I not good enough to sit down to breakfast with your -absurd friends? Has that gentleman in the white trousers -been attending a tennis party? It is somewhat early for -tennis parties, is it not? Barely seven yet—is Homewood -going to decorate a Church or is he merely masquerading -as a Jack in the Green? Where's Scarsdale? Not down -yet? I don't blame him, I never heard such an infernal -din in my life—cocks crowing, birds shouting, dogs barking -and—and cut my face twice, begad, twice—which means a -deuced uncomfortable day for me and—and—and your -father is to be poked away into a little back room and have -his meals by himself, is he? I'm hurt, Kathleen, positively -hurt; had you told me that my society was distasteful to you, -had you only told me that you were asking me out of -politeness, begad, out of compliment, why then I should have -stayed away. I feel it, I am an old fellow and oversensitive -perhaps, little things, little unkindnesses wound me, as -perhaps a few years ago they would not. As one grows -older one——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come into breakfast, father," she said, and slipped her -hand under his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale came down a little late. He held Kathleen's -hand for a moment, looked her in the eyes and sat down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I slept badly," he said quietly, "in fact I could not sleep -at all, it was strange to me to realise that the same roof that -sheltered you—" he paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tea or coffee?" Kathleen asked brightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship was like a bear with a very sore head, the -Stanwys manner was not in evidence. He growled and -cursed under his breath. He flung poisoned darts of wit, -sneers and jibes at Coombe and they glanced harmless enough -from that gentleman's toughened hide, but they went home -when he turned his battery on Sir Josiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poisonous old devil he is," Coombe muttered to himself -as he put away a huge breakfast.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="beside-the-lake"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BESIDE THE LAKE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They had all gone out together, Sir Josiah and his -Lordship in Sir Josiah's car, Mr. Coombe and Mr. Cutler -and Mr. Jobson with a large quantity of golf sticks in -Allan's car, and Allan himself had gone over to One Tree -Farm to discuss intensive culture, scientific pedigree poultry -and pig raising and farm business generally; and Kathleen -found herself for the first time alone with Harold Scarsdale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had tried to avoid this, yet in some fashion she had -known that it must come sooner or later. She had suggested -that he should go out with the others, but he had quietly -declined. And so if it must be, well it must be. If she and -Harold Scarsdale must come to a definite understanding, -why not sooner than later? She was a coward to shun it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From her bedroom window she saw him sauntering up and -down the broad paved pathway. That he was waiting for -her, confident that she would come to him, she knew, and -she knew that she must go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my Lady?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir Harold Scarsdale is in the garden; will you go down -to him and tell him that I will join him soon? There he -is, Betty, you can see him from here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see him, my Lady, and I'll go and tell him." Betty -turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My Lady?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, are you unhappy, child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unhappy, oh, my lady, I be very happy here, -indeed—indeed I be—very happy I be, my lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look white and troubled, child," Kathleen said. -"Is—is that man, is your grandmother—troubling you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, my Lady, I've not seen Grandmother since I came here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Lestwick?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abram du hang about waiting for I, my Lady, Polly -Ransom have told me that Abram du continually be hanging -about the green door, my Lady, but I doan't go out and so I -du never see he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will speak to Mr. Homewood about it and ask him to -interview this Lestwick and tell him to keep away from here, -for I will not have you worried and troubled, Betty. Now -run down, child, and tell Sir Harold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale paced up and down in the warm sunlight, waiting, -as years ago he had waited in another garden for the -coming of his beloved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And presently she would come to him, he did not doubt -that. He turned now at the sound of a light step, but it -was not she, he knew that—who, who loves, does not know -the step of the beloved one? Is it not different from all -other footfalls in the world, as different as 'her' voice is -different from all other voices. A man usually knows the -step of the woman he loves, but a woman always knows the -step of her man. Scarsdale, turning slowly, knew full well -that it was not Kathleen. A stern, silent man was he, -misjudged by many who thought him cold and even heartless. -Men found but little pleasure in his society, women none, -for he had neither heart nor admiration to give them. He -had looked at beautiful women and had failed to see their -beauty, because only one face was beautiful in his sight. -But this little maid tripping to him so demurely in the -sunlight was pretty enough to win an unaccustomed smile to his -lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a pretty child she was, a fit handmaiden for Her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You want me?" he asked, and his voice was a little -more gentle than usual.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dropped him a curtsey, "My Lady sent me to say -that she would be here in the garden very soon, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you." He stood looking at her, at the pretty, -downcast face. He looked after her when she had turned -back towards the house. A pretty little country girl with a -sweet voice, he thought, and then, even before she had -whisked out of sight behind a door, he had forgotten her and -his thoughts had gone back to the one to whom they were -constant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was coming, and when she came what should he say -to her? Just as ten years ago he had watched and waited -for her in another garden, his heart filled with love for her, -so he was watching and waiting now and his love was the -same, no—not the same, for, even he, was conscious of its -change. But it was no less, it was even more, it was greater, -it burned with a stronger flame, a greater passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And after ten years—did many men love for ten long -years, were many men as constant as he had been? Would -not that constancy count for something with her? Surely, -surely it must, for women prized constancy in a man above -all other things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the smile still lingered on his lips, as he turned and -slowly made his way along the sun warmed path. What -should he say to her when she came, what had he said to -her in the old days when he had poured out his heart to her? -A thousand things, a million things, and yet all were summed -up in three words, "I love you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had given her everything, a man's love, a man's -constancy. His heart had not beaten one throb the faster for -any woman but her. His eyes had found no pleasure in -looking on any other woman's face. Could man give more -than he had given? What could he ask in return? -Everything—and he knew that he must ask everything of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen was conscious of a trepidation, of a nervousness -unusual to her. A strange shyness had come to her, an -unwillingness to meet him; yet she must and because she must -she was here. She had asked herself—Was he the same, -had the years altered him? And she had answered her own -questions with No and Yes: he was not the same, the years -had altered him. She scarcely knew this silent, almost -morose man. He came to her with his tanned, lean face, -his deep sombre eyes, as almost a stranger, just now and -again for a fleeting moment she saw something in his face, -heard something in his voice that brought back memories -of the boy she had known and loved. Yet they were but -fleeting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ardent, outspoken, honest, loving boy had changed -into the quiet, self-contained man. The man had infinitely -more self-control than the boy. Yet she had seen those eyes -of his lighten up, had seen the spark of fire gleam in them -and she knew that it was not the same flame that had burned -so brightly in the boyish eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He met her and looked at her with a smile on his face, -but he did not speak and she spoke because she knew that the -silence must be broken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw you from my window, you have been admiring -the—our garden," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not think that I have given the garden a thought."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet is it not beautiful enough? And to think that a -few months ago it was little more than a jungle and now——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is beautiful, yet I knew another infinitely more -beautiful to me than this. You knew that garden too, Kathleen, -our garden at Bishopsholme, the garden where I used to -wait for you, where I first told you——" his voice quavered -and trembled and her eyes, downcast, dared not lift -themselves to his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where I first told you how I loved you—I have seen -that garden in my dreams a thousand times, I have had cool -visions of it in the sweltering heat of the tropical nights. -I have seen it—and you—always you—and yet my memory -never did you justice Kathleen. To-day you are more -beautiful, more sweetly gracious, more lovable——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I be silent when silence would be but -pretence? Ten years ago I loved you with all my heart and -soul, for ten years my love has been constant, my dreams -and my memories of you were sweeter to me than the living -realty of other women—I cared nothing for them, my heart -was all yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harold!" she said. "Harold!" She put her hand on his -arm. "The past is dead and it must lie dead and—and -forgotten——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgotten! You tell me to forget when I have lived on -memories, when the visions of you that my brain has -conjured up have been the only real, the only beautiful things -in my life: have I not heard your voice speaking to me in -the stillness of those hot nights, have I not felt your cool -hand on my brow when fever assailed me? You, even though -thousands of miles parted us, were with me always. You -were by my side in daylight and in darkness, my other self, -my better, purer, sweeter self, and now after ten years when -all that I had of you, all that I had in the world was memory -of you, you tell me to forget——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you must," she said softly, "because—oh because -you must."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And did you forget? Could you have forgotten at the -word of command?" he said. His cheeks were flushed under -their tan, his eyes were gleaming and his words came quick -and fast. "Could you have forgotten so easily? No, you -too were faithful, you waited, Kathleen. You told me so -yourself. You waited—hoping, dear, did you not, hoping -that I should come back to you as, God willing, I meant -always to come back. You knew as I knew that it was the -great love, the one and only love of our two lives. It came to -you, dear, when you were little more than a child, to me -when I was but a boy, but it will last through my life and -yours—yours too, and knowing this, you tell me to forget."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen," she said. "Listen—this is my home, you are -my friend, my husband's guest——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does that matter, does anything in this world matter -save that I have come back to you, that you and I love one -another now as we did then and that after years of separation, -years of heart sickness and longing, we are, thank God, -together again. Does anything matter but that? You are -married, you married the man for his money—his father's -money—your father told me this—I am not speaking in -anger, dear, nor contempt, I am only stating what I know to -be a fact. You gave him no love, how could you, when you -had none to give, for your heart was always mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh hush, hush! Before you say any more, Harold, listen, -for you must listen to me now. My father told you only -the truth, I married for money, for a home, for a future—I -had given up hope, I had waited so long, my youth was -passing. I looked ahead, I saw old age and loneliness and -oh—perhaps I was a coward, but I was afraid—afraid—Perhaps -you had forgotten, perhaps you no longer lived—remember, -remember that for ten years I heard no word of you: I know -now that in not writing one word to me you were faithfully -keeping the word of honour that my father forced you to -give. Yet I did not think you had died, Harold, for if you -were dead I think—I think I should have known—you were -only a boy, I told myself, and the love of a boy changes, -absence so often means forgetfulness. There are other women -younger and more beautiful than I—No, no, let me speak, -I know now that I was wrong—I know that I was wrong—yet -how could I know it then? I was twenty-eight, twenty-eight -and what had I to look forward to? Nothing! nothing in -the world—my father had nothing to give me, I was useless, -I could not work, I knew of no trade—I had been brought up -in idleness, a useless creature—and the future—it -meant—starvation, not merely genteel poverty, it meant worse, it -meant——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know, and you married for money—for a home—have -I blamed you, have I shewn anger, Kathleen? No, dear, I -pitied you. You married this man for his money only——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not wholly, I liked him, respected him——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Liked him, respected him——" he smiled grimly. "But -I had your heart?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes——" she said, "then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now—now still now—always!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not fair, it is cruel, it is unlike you to ask me," -she said, "it is too late to ask me now——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is not too late. Was not your sin against me, against -your love greater when you married him than any you might -commit against him now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am his wife, I have promised to be faithful and true to -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You promised to be faithful and true to me; do you -remember our parting at Bishopsholme, you promised then -when I held you in my arms, when the tears were in your -dear eyes—you promised always to love me, always to be -faithful and true, all your life long—you promised me then -with tears, beloved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I performed—I waited for ten years. Never passed -a day that I did not waking think of you, that I did not when -I lay down to sleep ask God's blessing on you and then Fate -was too strong——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was Fate that brought me here to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So that we could meet as friends, take one another by -the hand and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As friends—you and I——" his voice quivered with -scorn and bitterness—"Friends!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had come to the little lake, the pool where stood the -stone nymph and where in the deep green water the great -carp swam lazily. She was remembering how she and Allan -had stood here days ago and had spoken of this little stone -maiden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen, true love, love that is loyal and lasting and -good and true is the holiest, the best and most enduring -thing in this world, it stands far, far above a mere ceremony. -It is Heavensent. You dare not sin against that love, -dear, for Heaven itself put it in your heart. I have been -faithful all those years, I have loved you. I have dreamed -of you, spoken to you in my thoughts, and now I have come -back, I have come to you for—my reward, Kathleen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned slowly and looked at him, her face had grown -white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Harold, I do not understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must, oh you must, you do understand, Kathleen, -don't shrink from me—you see before you the man who loves -you better than he loves his life, better I think, than he loves -his soul. Marriage—what is marriage, such a marriage as -yours, a marriage of convenience, a marriage of accommodation, -a marriage tainted by money. Can you set up such a -marriage as yours against my steadfast love? You cannot, -you shall not, Kathleen, you belong to me—you became mine -when you gave me your heart—when you let me hold you in -my arms, when my lips first kissed yours. That—that gave -you to me—I ask for my own now and you—you are my -own—I have come for you—I want you, God knows I need you. -I shall never let you go now never, never again in this world!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him and saw that which was unfamiliar to -her, looked at him and seemed to see the face of a stranger, -of a man she had never known, that face was flushed, those -eyes were bright, his hands stretched out to her trembled -with the passion that moved him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you asking me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To come with me, to leave all this, for your love's sake, -for my love's sake, to let love rise triumphant above every -earthly consideration, I have come for you, I shall not go -without you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then she turned from him, she turned to look at the -little statue that had stood there, reflected in the green -waters through all those centuries. The stone maiden who -would stand here perhaps when the grave had closed over her, -and looking at the little statue, rather than at him, she -spoke quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I loved you," she said, "I loved you all those years -because I believed you to be all that I would have had you be. -I loved you for your respect for me, for your honour, your -purity and for your reverence. In those days you never -offended me by word or look, I was safe with you as with a -brother—and because I knew that with you, I was so -protected, so safe, so secure, I loved you, I think I worshipped -you and so I remembered you as good and honourable and -innocent and true—and—and now you come back to me——" -her voice broke a little, "and I know that the love I believed -in, trusted in so, has degenerated into what is nothing but -a selfish passion. Here under my husband's roof, you hold -out your hand to me, you bid me come, you bid me leave -honour, happiness and peace of heart, you bid me leave -self-respect, all—all behind me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen—Kathleen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Had I been free and had you come in rags, a beggar, -with nothing in your hands, had you called to me to go with -you—I would have gone gladly, proudly gone. But you -waited, Harold, and you waited too long, and now you -dishonour your love, you trample it into the dust at your feet. -I idealised you and the idol that I set up and which I in my -blindness and foolishness worshipped, is fallen and shattered, -broken beyond repair, and so——" She turned to him for -the first time and held out her hand, "and so we have come -to the parting of the ways, Harold, the last parting. It is -good-bye between us, good-bye for always."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If your love had been as strong as mine, had lived as mine -had lived, you would not say this to me now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It lived till a little while ago, till we came here just now -and stood beside the lake—it lived till then—and then—you -killed it, Harold, you killed it here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These are words, mere words!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet true words, it died here after I had kept it warm, -after I had cherished it in my heart, after I had regarded it -as the best, the sweetest, purest, noblest thing that could -ever come into my life, and here you taught me that I was -wrong, you degraded it, you made me see that it was not -the pure and holy thing I had believed it. You shewed me -that it was mean and cruel and selfish. You asked me for—for -your reward, yet did not consider what the cost of that -reward must be to me. You would have made me an outcast, -my name a word of shame, you, who ten years ago never -wronged me in word or thought. You would take me from -here into the wilderness, thinking that if I could but hide -my face from others I might find happiness. Did you give -a thought to my soul, to my conscience, where could I have -hidden from that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not answer, he stood looking at her, his brown -hands clenched. Smouldering passion was in his breast, the -passion of desire, the passion of anger. Yet he could be -honest with himself and knew that she was speaking the -truth, and had never a word to say in contradiction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just now," she said, "just now you killed my love, you -drove it from my heart—it belonged to the man I thought -so fine, so splendid, so noble and when I found him ignoble, -selfish, self-seeking, it died; it had to die, Harold, and being -dead will never live again!" She held out her hand to -him, there was a smile on her white face, a rather pitiful -smile, for only she and her God knew what she had suffered -here in this garden of sunshine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must part here, dear, part—you and I who were -lovers, part as lovers for ever, yet we shall meet again in a -few hours, I the hostess, you my guest and friend. But I -part here from the man I once loved and bidding him -good-bye ask that God may bless him always."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once!" he said softly. "Once, Kathleen, I once loved? -Once?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once!" she said, and bravely looked into his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Moments of silence passed while he stood looking at her. -His face seemed to have grown older, it was haggard, there -were lines of pain upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This place, she knew, would hold for ever a memory of -pain and suffering for her, here she would see his face in -memory as she saw it now. Never would she see these green -waters lying motionless under the deep shadows of the yews, -but that into her memory would come his face as she saw it. -now, all haggard and stricken, the face of one who has seen -the gate to happiness opened for an instant and then finds -himself shut out in the darkness and the cold for evermore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he fell to his knees, he lifted the soft and dainty -fabric of her dress and touched it with his lips and then, -rising, turned and strode away, leaving her by the water -alone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="on-other-shoulders"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ON OTHER SHOULDERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When he had knelt and kissed the hem of her -garment, Scarsdale had meant it as an act of renunciation, -as an acceptance of Kathleen's decision. He could not -hope to fight against it. The truth of what she had said -appealed to him. True he could take her away back to his own -little domain at the farthest end of the earth. He could take -her to a place where no one should know of her and his past. -But he could not take her away from her own thoughts, the -upbraiding of her own conscience. His love for her was a -strange mixture of passion and reverence. Sometimes it was -the one that was uppermost, at another time the other. Now -it was reverence, respect for her purity that filled his heart. -He put his passion away, for ever, he told himself. He -would go back whence he came. He would take back with -him his dreams and his memories and nothing else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-day was Saturday, his visit here would end on Monday. -He would have ended it to-day, yet he felt that he might -appear a coward in her sight if he ran away, besides, why -should he cheat himself of these last few hours of her? -She was nothing to him, never could be anything, but he -could still watch her, still listen to her voice, still garner up -in his brain memories of her on which he would draw presently -when he had gone back to the old lonely, hopeless life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, he would not run away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found from one of the men servants, old Markabee it -was, in which direction lay the golf course, to which -Messrs. Coombe, Cutler and Jobson had repaired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fower miles it be, fower good miles, sir," said -Markabee, "through Stretton you du go, then turns to the left -and——" And so on, Scarsdale listened to the directions -and followed them and an hour later stood on the course and -watched Mr. Coombe making wild and ineffective swipes at -a small ball perched on a mound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Coombe, bathed in perspiration, appealed to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never tried this game before, I haven't," he said, "and -don't know as I'm going to spend sleepless nights before I -try it again. I daresay it's all right for those who like -it—play it yourself perhaps, Sir Harold?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale shook his head. "There's not much golf where -I come from," he said briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, too hot I reckon—well for my part, give me a quiet -game of bowls. Innocent mirth I don't find fault with, but -I object to making myself a sort of circus for a lot of -grinning urchins, who ought to be at school or somewhere." He -came and stood beside Scarsdale. At any other time -Scarsdale might have avoided Mr. Coombe, to-day he welcomed -him. Even Coombe was a better companion than his own -thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A decent feller," Coombe thought, "no airs about him, a -bit silent, I don't expect he gets much society where he comes -from."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thereafter Mr. Combe left Cutler and Jobson to their golf -and attached himself to Scarsdale, and for long after the -boastful Coombe would tell in City chop houses how he and -his friend Sir Harold Scarsdale played golf together on -Stretton Links.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Walk," said Coombe, "why of course I'll walk, nothing -like walking to get a man's weight down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I gather you don't do much walking, Mr. Coombe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me?" said Coombe. "You should see me, all over the -City I am, in one office out another up and down the stairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They lunched, the four of them, at a little Inn, lunched -on bread and cheese and good English ale. Coombe called the -pretty little maid who waited on them his dear. He chucked -her under her dimpled chin and asked her how many -sweethearts she had—a gay dog, Mr. Coombe, playful and -ponderous, with no more vice in him than is in an honest British -bulldog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretty girl," said Coombe; "I always said London wants -beating for pretty girls. You see more pretty girls in ten -minutes in the streets of London than you do in a day's -journeying anywhere else. But next to London comes Sussex, -I've seen 'em handsome enough in Kent and passable in -Devonshire, but Sussex girls beat the best. There's a girl at -Homewood, Lady Kathleen's maid I think she is, as pretty -as a picture—Jobson and I saw her last night, didn't we, -Jobson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jobson blushed furiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did call my attention to a young woman, now I come -to think of it, Coombe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Call his attention—ha, ha!" roared Coombe. "He didn't -want much attention called, believe me Scarsdale, and mind -you she was worth looking at, the daintiest little bit I've seen -for a long while, I can tell you—neat, trim little body, hair -as gold—as gold as that sunlight yonder, a demure little face, -my word—ask Jobson, hey Jobson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The young woman was certainly prepossessing," said -Jobson primly, "and I suppose there's no harm in a man -admiring a pretty face and God forbid because I see a pretty -face and admire it that any other—thoughts—any other -ideas—should enter my head—and—and I don't like your -manner, Coombe, it suggests things I do not like—sir, and if -you must, have your joke—as you call it, I would be infinitely -obliged to you if you would find another subject to joke -about than myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless my soul!" said Coombe. "Bless my soul, Jobson, -what are you going off the deep end for now? I said you saw -a pretty girl and admired her and so did I, begad! I'd be a -blind fool if I did not! And if you think I'm saying one -word against you or the girl either, Jobson, why -then—then—hang it then——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you meant no offence, Coombe, then none is taken," -said Jobson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were good honest fellows, decent, clean minded men -and if their talk was mainly of money and of money getting, -what did it matter? Scarsdale found no fault with them, he -even felt a kind of liking for Mr. Coombe. Coombe was so -big, so noisy, so inoffensively vulgar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I say and I ain't ashamed to say, that though I am -fifty-nine I can admire a pretty face. Yes, fifty-nine," -Coombe swelled out his chest and looked around, expecting -that someone would question his age, but no one did. -"Though I am fifty-nine, I can still, thank God, admire the -beauties of Nature, whether it's a noble landscape, or a -sweeping view of the sea or—or a woman's face. I wouldn't be fit -to be blessed with my sight if I couldn't admire a pretty -face—and that's why, my dear, I admire you," he added as -the little serving maid came in with more bread and cheese. -"And why I hope that some fine young fellow will come along -with his pocket full of money and marry you and make you -a good husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How 'ee du talk, sir!" the little maid said, blushing -and curtseying; "a rare comic gentleman 'ee du be, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And——" went on Mr. Coombe when the girl had gone -out again, "what I think is the most beautiful thing to see, -gentlemen, the finest and noblest of God's created creatures, -is a true bred, real English lady. It isn't only her looks, -it's her sweet graciousness, her kindness and her friendliness -and the dainty way she has of speaking, so's you feel at home -and feel as she likes you and that's she's your friend and -would do you a kindness if she could. There aren't many of -'em about, leastways it hasn't been my lot to meet 'em—but -I've met one now—and—and"—Mr. Coombe paused, he -rose, he held up his tankard, "Beer isn't good enough nor -would the finest champagne ever vinted be good enough, but -it isn't the stuff we drink her health in, it's the feeling, it's -the respect, the admiration we feel, gentlemen, that does her -honour and perhaps does honour to us too. And so I ask you -to drink the health of the finest lady I ever met, the loveliest -and best—and I tell you when I look at Lady Kathleen, it -makes me proud to remember I'm an Englishman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear, hear!" said Cutler and Jobson. "If old Homewood -were here, Coombe, he'd love you for that," said Cutler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Coombe might have been a hundred times more vulgar -than he was, louder, commoner, more boisterous, but -Scarsdale from that moment on would never see any harm in -Coombe. A good fellow, an honest man. What mattered it -that he wore white trousers and canvas strapped shoes, a soft -felt hat to the golf course, that he perspired freely and that -he bellowed like the bull of Bashan, what did it all matter? -His heart was in the right place; and so mentally Scarsdale -shook Coombe by his jolly big moist hand and thanked him -in his heart for his tribute of reverence and respect to the -One Woman in all Scarsdale's world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back to the golf course went Mr. Cutler and Mr. Jobson, -each eager to do "something in so many," so Coombe vaguely -understood, but here outside the Inn on a seat in the -sunshine, it was pleasant enough to stay and Coombe and -Scarsdale sat and smoked their pipes and watched the chickens -and the white ducks in the roadway and thought their own -thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Coombe, "if I ever saw a pretty girl, it was -that one! Betty her name is, because I asked her, and she is -Lady Kathleen's maid and all I've got to say is that her -ladyship must be the purest and sweetest soul living or she -wouldn't have a lovely young thing like that in the same house -as her own young husband!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale started. "Why—what do you mean, Mr. Coombe? -Is Homewood the type of man who would——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaven forbid it, there isn't a cleaner, better lad living -than Allan Homewood. But there's a certain prayer as -runs—'Lead us not into temptation,' Sir Harold and knowing -what I know——" Mr. Coombe paused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what do you know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know that Lady Kathleen Homewood is a sweet and -lovely young lady, though how she came to have such a father—at -any rate I know there isn't a finer lady in this land than -her, and I know that Allan Homewood is a lad who if I -had had a daughter of my own I'd have liked to have seen -her married to, but for all that it was old Homewood who -made the marriage, his money that did it, and though they -like one another and respect one another, as all the world can -see, why—why—do you see, Sir Harold, it isn't the same -as if it had been a love match and they had married for love, -do you take me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand you quite well and because it was not a love -match——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Sir Harold, because Allan ain't in love with Lady -Kathleen, it's just possible, isn't it, he might, I say—might—fall -in love with someone else, as is natural! Young blood, -Sir Harold, young blood—you know. It's natural for a -man to seek his own mate and that's why I don't hold with -loveless marriages. Depend on it the man, and very often -the woman too, will find he needs the love his marriage didn't -bring him and he'll look for it, or if he don't look for it, -Sir Harold, why then it may come to him all the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you think that Mr. Allan Homewood might possibly -fall in love with his wife's little maid, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God forbid I should think anything of the kind," said -Mr. Coombe. "I never said it and I don't want to think it, -but I do say if I was my Lady Kathleen's father, which I -am not, I'd say to her, 'My dear, that little maid of yours is -too pretty by half, and it would be best that you got rid of -her!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Lady Kathleen would tell you that she was quite -capable of conducting her own business without interference, -Mr. Coombe!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which would serve me right for a meddling, interfering -old fool!" said Mr. Coombe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knocked out his pipe and then presently the warm -sunshine, the drowsy hum of the hees hovering about the -old straw skeps on their bench in the little orchard across the -road, the good English ale, all had their effect. Mr. Coombe's -heavy head nodded. He jerked himself awake, then -nodded again, and so fell asleep. And Harold Scarsdale, -an empty pipe between his teeth, sat with folded arms and -stared before him, seeing nothing, but thinking deeply and -his thoughts were: "After all—after all might there not -even now be some hope for him? Must the years be all -lonely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She, God's blessings on her, would not come to him in -shame—her shame—and his, yet might she not come if the -burden of shame should fall on other shoulders?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Mr. Coombe snored in the pleasant sunshine and Harold -Scarsdale widely awake, dreamed of a future that might even -yet be.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-conqueror"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CONQUEROR</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A girl was leaning against the old rose red wall, she was -sobbing pitifully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee du be cruel, for—for ever pestering I!" she moaned. -"Why doan't 'ee leave me in peace, Abram?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man stood stolidly watching her, her tears moved him -not at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Every night 'ee du be hanging about here, I know it, for -Polly Ransom told me and getting I a bad name 'ee be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Polly Ransom be a mischief making hussey!" the man -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She did but tell I the truth, Abram, for 'ee du be here -all hours watching for I, so I daren't show my face beyond -the walls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who should I be watching and waiting for, if it be not -'ee, Betty? 'Ee be my promised wife, 'ee be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bain't!" she said. "I bain't, and I du hate 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed hoarsely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Slow—slow I be, slow o' speech and slow to make up my -mind, yet when I du speak, then the words I hev said be -spoken and can never be recalled, and when I du make up my -mind, it be just the same, I never change, I never alter, -I chose 'ee, Betty Hanson, from all other maids! I've set -my heart on 'ee, my maid, and nothing on God's earth'll make -me alter, nothing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were words that might have been spoken with passion, -yet he spoke without passion, with a cool, deadly certainty -that frightened the girl infinitely more than blustering -rage. Only his fingers betrayed his nervousness, they were -plucking at each other for lack of something else to pluck at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A patient man I be, wunnerful, terribul patient," he -went on slowly. "Night after night hev I come here, watching -this door, knowing full well that sooner or later 'ee must -pass it. Night, after night hev I gone away and said to -myself, 'To-morrer,' and see 'ee've come, just as I 'lowed 'ee -would——" he paused. "When'll the day be, Betty Hanson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The day for our wedding, surely?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never, never," she said, "never!" She clasped her -hands over her heaving breast, "Never, Abram Lestwick! -My funeral day will come afore my marriage day wi' 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded his head slowly. He had found a button, a button -hanging by a mere thread; he twisted and tore at it till -it came off, then he fingered the button, rolling it between -finger and thumb, passing it restlessly from one hand to the -other till at last he dropped it. He stooped and fumbled in -the dust hunting for it as though it were something of great -account. The girl clasped her face between her two hands -and looked at him, terror in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abram, Abram!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not found the thing, he straightened himself up, -but his yes still roved the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why du 'ee pester I so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't pester 'ee, my maid, I but come to look after my -own!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bain't your own!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee be chose by I, willed to me by your grandmother, so -'ee du belong to I! and one day I will hev 'ee, Betty -Hanson——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood staring at her, forgetting the button. About -them was the dusk of the night. His restless eyes roved up -and down the long straight road, not a soul was there to be -seen. And then the slow passion that sometimes came to -him moved him. He had been patient, truly he had said he -was patient, patient and slow, yet as sure as death itself—why -should he wait? He took a step towards her, the girl -shrank back, the green door was behind her, she might have -lifted the latch and escaped, but a strange feeling of -impotence, of helplessness was on her, she could only stare at -the man with distended eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee do belong to I!" he said. And he said it again and -then again, and each time he took a slow step toward her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, Abram——" her voice rose shrill with terror, for -his arms were suddenly about her, his hateful hands were on -her, she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let—let I go, for God's sake—Abram—let I go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he did not answer, he dragged her towards him, her -face closer to his, his breath was on her lips now, his eyes -shone brilliantly, their dull, lifelessness was gone, the -madness of his pent-up passion was on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let I—let I go—for—for God's sake let I——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the green door behind her opened suddenly, -Abram Lestwick lifted his head, he looked at the -newcomer, the man who stood in the opening of the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl was sobbing, struggling pitifully in his grip, yet -he never let her go, he held her tightly, staring at the man, -and it seemed waiting for him to pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let I go—let I go—for God's mercy, let I go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan Homewood knew the voice, he knew the shimmer -of her gold hair, he knew that writhing little figure. He put -his hand on her arm, he drew her back, Lestwick released -her, yet did not stir.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She be my promised wife," he said quietly, "my promised -wife her be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" the girl sobbed. "Never have I given him a -promise of mine—never, never! Doan't let—doan't let him -touch me! Oh I be frightened—frightened!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan thrust her back gently. Strangely enough in some -ways he and this other man were alike, alike and yet so -vastly different, slow to anger was each, yet when that anger was -aroused, it was deadly and terrible. It was roused now, -that pitiful cry, that white face, those tearful, terrified eyes, -those little clinging hands that were stretched out to him, -craving his protection. What he said he did not know, the -words came hot and furious. He called the other man cur -and villain, he ordered him away, he lifted clenched fists in -threatening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Abram Lestwick stood staring, like one surprised at -the interference of this man. What right had he, what was it -to him? He knew the man, knew him for Allan Homewood, -Esquire, of the gentry, so what right had he to interfere -between a man and his promised wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You hear me, you coward, you hear me? I order you -to go and never to come back; if you torment and threaten -this child, I'll thrash you, yes man, thrash you till I -cannot stand over you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And me——" Abram Lestwick said, blinking his eyes at -Allan, "me—what would I be doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There came slowly into his dull mind a dim suspicion. -This man was young, he lived beneath the same roof as -Betty, Betty was beautiful, the most beautiful maid in all -Sussex, in all the world! This man had seen her, admired -her, loved her, what man could help it? But she belonged -to him, Abram Lestwick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What be that maid to 'ee," he said, "what be her to 'ee?" A -dull red came into his face, his eyes shone evilly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl crouched back against the wall, still clasping her -soft cheeks between her hands. She was watching them, -waiting, wondering, conscious of a thrill of pride—these two -men—were going to fight—for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had no fear of the battle to come, and the bloodshed -there might be, she was eager for it. She wanted to see -Allan Homewood—Allan kill this man whom she hated and -feared so, rid her of him for ever. Why—why did not they -begin, what were they waiting for? Why this long silence?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What be her to 'ee?" Lestwick asked again, and then the -smouldering passion burst into flame, foul words, fouler -suggestions came to his lips. He ground his teeth together, he -quivered from head to foot. In his madness and passion he -fumbled with those restless hands of his with his -clothing—and Allan misunderstood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so the fight began and the girl drew a long shuddering -breath and watched. She saw them strike at one another, saw -Abram Lestwick reel, staggering back with blood on his face, -and she exulted, she wanted to scream her joy and gladness -aloud. Oh! this man of hers, this Allan who belonged to -her, whom she loved so madly, so passionately, what a man, -what a man he was, how big and strong and broad, how fine -to love a man like this!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill him, kill him, kill him!" she prayed voicelessly, -"Oh kill him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had fought away from the wall, they were near to -the middle of the chalk white road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dim light she could see only Lestwick's face, Allan's -broad back was towards her and Lestwick's face was all blood -smeared and his eyes shone with an unholy light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kill him!" she whispered, "oh kill him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She uttered a choking cry of joy, she saw Lestwick fling -up his arms and spin round and then fall, fall crashing into -the roadway, she watched him for a breathless moment as -he lay there motionless. Then her breath came back to her, -the blood coursed in her veins again, for the man had moved, -he was rising slowly, painfully, but rising. He stood up, -shaken and unsteady and his face was no sight for a maid to -see, but she rivetted her eyes on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you go now? Ah! you damned villain!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lestwick's fingers were again busy with his clothes and yet -again Allan misunderstood. He thought the man was -fumbling for a knife to draw on him and so gave him no -time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another blow staggered Lestwick, but he did not go down, -the fury in his face was an ill thing to see, his teeth were -bared and snapping like the teeth of a mad dog. He tried to -close with Allan, disregarding the blows that fell on him, -tried to close and to get those long green teeth of his into the -other man's soft flesh. And the girl knew it and screamed a -warning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mind—mind as he doan't bite 'ee, mind as he doan't bite -'ee. Ah God, save us, he be mad!" She stooped, she fumbled -in the dust, she found what she sought for, a flint, a jagged, -heavy flint. There was hell fire in Lestwick's eyes, the -passionate rage of a maniac. This she saw as she flung the stone. -She flung it straight at that hideous, convulsed face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It struck Lestwick on the forehead, it broke the skin -and the blood gushed out. He turned, he looked at her, -noting it was her hand that had flung it. He laughed a -curiously strange mocking laugh and then he collapsed, -seemed to crumple before her eyes and fall a limp heap in the -roadway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you do, Betty, Betty what have you done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sobbing and laughing at once. "He—he meant to -kill 'ee, meant to—to get they teeth o' his in your throat, -Allan, oh I knew it, I knew it! Did—did 'ee see his face, -Allan, did 'ee see his face and his eyes? And oh they—they -hands o' his!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go into the house quietly, say nothing to anyone, bring -water quickly, understand, not a word to a soul, bring water -here at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went down on his knees beside the man, he lifted the -sorely battered head, the hideous blood stained face. Yet it -was not hideous now, the passion was smoothed away, the -eyes and mouth were closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was back with the water in but a few seconds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be he dead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Minutes passed, between them they bathed away the blood, -they cleaned the wound, the jagged wound in his forehead. -Allan bound it with his own white handkerchief and then the -man opened his eyes, now they were dull and brooding. He -lifted his hand and passed it across his mouth, as a man does -in sheer nervousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I be all right!" he said, and his voice was low and -monotonous—"I be quite all right, a strong man I be—'tis -time I were going home——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it's time you went home," Allan said, he ran his -hands over the man's clothing, not yet trusting him, -misdoubting Lestwick's strange passionless calm. He was -searching for the knife that twice he had believed the man -would have drawn on him, but there was no knife there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What be 'ee looking for?" Lestwick asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your knife!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bain't got a knife, cruel treacherous, dangerous things -knives be—I'll be getting home——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan helped him to his feet, the man stood dazed, -swaying a little, then he seemed to take hold on himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very passionate man I be," he said, "terribul wrathful -in moments of anger——" He looked at Allan with that -strange sullen expression of his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon if I did say or du anything as I should -not—'tis my anger as du master I—I wish 'ee good night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned and walked slowly and unsteadily down the -road. Betty caught at Allan's arm, and they stood there, -the girl clinging to the man, watching him go. Once Abram -turned his head and looked back, he saw them there together, -the girl and the man, holding to one another, the dusky red -came into his cheek, he breathed hard, then went on his way, -mumbling to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A knife—he did think I had a knife—what du, I need -with a knife—bain't I got my hands——?" He held them -out before him and looked at them, as the fingers writhed -and clenched and unclenched. "Terribul powerful my hands -be, but I did not get them on him—no, not then, not -then——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty had broken down and was sobbing and moaning, -clinging to Allan's arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, hush, hush child, hush dear, he is gone—there is -nothing to fear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But he will come back. Oh, Allan, I did mean to kill -he——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" he said again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For he meant to kill 'ee and—and Allan he will think -about it and brood about it, and one day he will surely kill -'ee, unless 'ee du watch he terribul, terribul close, he will -kill 'ee!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed softly. "I am not afraid of him, Betty, hush -dear, hush, don't cry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For she was sobbing bitterly and pressing her face against -his arm, clinging to him as in fear, or love, or both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" he said. "Come, come, child, come!" But -his hands were quivering and his heart seemed to be -beating faster than usual, "Come!" he said again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Allan, Allan, if he did hurt 'ee, I would want to -die!" she moaned. "For I du; I du love 'ee—oh! I love 'ee -terribul, terribul bad, I du!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty," he said, "hush, you must not! hush! come!" He -drew her through the little arched green door into the yard. -He himself was shaking now, trembling, afraid for her, afraid -for himself, for his honour. She said she loved him and she -clung to him, this passionate maiden. What mad folly it all -was, what mad folly, God preserve them all!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty go back, go into the house!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, don't let me leave 'ee, Allan, let me bide wi' -'ee for a time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt her tears on his hand, the hand she had taken and -was holding tight pressed to her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me bide wi' 'ee, Allan, Allan, don't 'ee send me away -yet!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sobbing unrestrainedly, crying aloud as a child -does, and he feared lest any servant should come into the -yard and hearing her, find them here together. Nor could -he send her back into the house for others to see, all tears -and shaken as she was. But stay here he could not and -would not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," he said, he held her hand tightly, he took her -through the little gateway into the garden. Here at least -they would be safe and secure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A—a—cowardly maid I be," she moaned, "oh a coward -I be, but I du feel safe wi' 'ee, Allan, don't—don't leave -me! Oh sir, I—I du forget——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That does not matter now," he said, "Betty, try and compose -yourself. I understand, you have been frightened, poor -child, and upset, but—but that man will not trouble you -again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You doan't know he," she said quietly; "Allan if I—I did -think that I must marry he, I would go and drownd myself -in the pond, the pond where my stone maid be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are not going to drown yourself, Betty," he said. -"You are going to live for many happy years!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How—how can I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are other men, better men than this poor fellow -Lestwick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Allan, du 'ee pity him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, for loving you vainly, child!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had taken a roundabout pathway under the dense -shadow of the tall yews and now they had come suddenly -on the little lake, from which the slender white figure rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There her be, there be my stone maid—and one day, one -day I will go to her, I think Allan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" he said. "If you talk in this way I shall leave -you! Betty, Betty, be brave, brave dear, for your own sake! -For—for mine!" his voice broke a little, he looked down at -her, her lovely little face was upturned to his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And oh the temptation of that moment, the temptation of -those red lips, those eyes all filled with the soft light of her -love, the love that she felt no shame to admit. His for the -taking—his he seemed to know, even before they had ever -met—his in some past life, his now and through all -time—his in the life yet to come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There came to him suddenly a great, an irresistible desire, -a passionate love of her, the desire to put his arms about her, -to hold her to him tightly, tightly, to crush his lips to hers, -and she, he knew, would not struggle, would not deny him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And because he was young, because the lifeblood ran hot, in -his veins, because she was so near to him, so alluring, so -loving, so beautiful, God help him, how could he resist?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, Betty, why do you say you love me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Du 'ee not know, Allan, why I love 'ee?" she said. "Oh -you du!" She put her hands against his breast, she looked up -into his face, her eyes smiled at his, her lips invited. He -bent to her, she could feel the heavy, the wild beating of his -heart under her little hands, and there came to her a sense -of joy, of triumph.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A cloud drifted across the moon, it blotted out for a moment -that glowing, inviting little face. It was gone, leaving -but an indistinct shape of whiteness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His father! his wife!—his old father's pride in him, -Kathleen's faith in him—Was he to prove himself unworthy? -Was he to fall at this first temptation?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, my Allan!" she said, and her voice came to him, -soft as a caress from out of the darkness. She had thought -him won, had believed him hers, and she was waiting joyously, -expectantly for the kiss, the kiss that never came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, my son," he seemed to hear the old voice say, that -proud and tender old voice. "Allan my husband!" Her -voice now, calling him back to a sense of honour, to a sense -of duty and right and he heard the voices, listened to them, -heeded them. He pushed the girl away gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, we must go back to the house, child—they will -miss me and wonder, you too, you may be wanted, you have -dried your tears—go back, go back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan!" she said and her voice was like a cry of pain. -He gripped her little hands and held them tightly, then he -let them go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go back!" he said, and his voice was harsh and stern, -yet it was the voice of his better self—the conqueror!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-watcher"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE WATCHER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A man seated in the shadows watched them part, for the -moon had come out again, watched them part as he had -watched them come, as he had watched them standing there -together on the edge of the pool. To him, the watcher, it -had seemed that the girl was in the man's arms, her face -uplifted to his—he had seen the moonlight on her face and had -seen the dull glimmer of her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the man—yes, he thought that he made no mistake—about -the man! So Mr. Coombe was right, clever, farseeing, -sensible Mr. Coombe—God's blessings on Mr. Coombe for his -few idle words that meant so much to this man watching here -in the shadows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not move. He scarcely breathed, as the girl passed -him, alone on her way to the house. He heard her sobbing -softly to herself as she went, saw the little head bent as in -shame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And to the watcher it seemed that she went in shame and -he was glad—Heaven knew how glad he was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet he must make no mistake, he must not trust to intuition, -to mere suspicion. He must know beyond the shadow of -a doubt that this man was Allan Homewood—'Her' husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale rose, the man was still standing by the edge of -the pool, the girl had gone some while. Scarsdale walking -softly on the turf, skirted the hedge and came out on the -broad flagged pathway. He walked leisurely towards the -pool and seemed to see the other man for the first time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello!" he said. "Who is here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I——" Allan turned to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—oh Homewood, is that you, my host?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it was true. He felt a sudden liking for this man, he -felt he loved him for his weakness and his sin, for would not -that weakness, that sin give him that which he wanted most? -They talked of the night, of the old garden, of the sweet soft -English country air. Scarsdale spoke of the damp night heat -of that country which had been the prison of his body and -soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a good talker when he pleased and to-night he -wished to please. He wanted this man's liking—he exerted -himself to gain it and yet felt a deep contempt of himself -while he strove.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke of fights with savages, of fights against disease -and death, of perils that made the blood run cold. Yet he -did not boast or brag. Dimly Allan realised that the man -who was speaking was the hero of these adventures, but -Scarsdale never said so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were long away from England, Scarsdale?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A thousand years!" Scarsdale said, he laughed softly, -"according to the calendar; ten years, to me a thousand! -Thank God to be back!" He drew a deep breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you go back again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It depends, I do not know, I may, yet I hope not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you have come to seek a wife?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But could you take her to this place of which you have -been telling me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God forbid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it depends on your success with the lady whether you -remain in England or go back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it depends on that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You and Kathleen are old friends?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew her when she was a child, I hoped that she would -not have forgotten me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And she did not, Kathleen would not, she never forgets!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strange that Allan should say this, here beside the pool -where he and Kathleen had stood but a few hours ago. -"Kathleen never forgets!" The words sounded to Scarsdale -like an ill omen, he shivered a little. Then he smiled at his -own thoughts and his thoughts were—"The shame shall be -this man's, not hers. Her freedom shall come to her without -a breath of scandal to touch her fair name—but she shall be -free—and those ten years of waiting, ten years of constancy, -ten years of love must find their reward——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down on the stone seat beside the sundial, the -stillness and darkness of the garden about them, the perfume -of the flowers in the air. A place to sit and dream in. Many -windows were lighted in the old house, sending out friendly -warm yellow rays of light into the night. From the house -came the distant sound of music, a woman's voice, deep, rich -and beautiful, even more beautiful mellowed by the distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was singing and both men were silent, listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thank God, thank God presently he could go in and take -her hand and face her, look into her eyes, with no memory -of guilt and of shame to stand between them to mar the -perfect understanding and the deep friendship that was so -sweet to both of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thank God! Thank God that he had mastered the temptation, -the passion of just now! It had gone utterly. Yet he -felt a great tenderness, a great love for the little maid who -would have given herself as she had given her love to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now Scarsdale was talking, exerting himself to talk in -his low, deep, strong, man's voice. He was trying to win this -other man's liking and friendship, for he had an object in -view. On Monday, at the latest Tuesday, this little house -party would break up, they would all go their separate ways -and he wanted to stay, as a few hours ago realising defeat -and failure, he had wanted to go. Now with a new hope in -his breast he wished to remain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What they talked of mattered little, of everyday things, -of commonplaces, but Scarsdale worked steadily towards the -object he had in view.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"After ten years—I went away a mere boy, I knew but a -few people, my father, who is dead since then, others who -have passed out of my life. I come back to England a -stranger among strangers. To me London is a desert, I walk -its streets, looking vainly for a familiar face; I know no one, -no one who passes knows me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you found Lord Gowerhurst?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he remembered me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You and he were good friends?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, as a boy I disliked him, may I say it to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Kathleen and you were friends?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A—a boy and girl friendship—she has grown into a sweet -and lovely woman—I shall think of this place, of her, of you -and of your happiness, of the tranquil calm of this when I -am back out there again—even when I am back in that -London that I do not know and that knows me not!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there haste for you to return to London?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haste—every hour I remain out of it I feel I am -gaining something!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why hurry back?" asked Allan in his hospitable -generosity. "Why go back? Lord Gowerhurst is eager for -his Club, his billiards, his cards, his manservant. My father -and his friends have their businesses, but you—why go -back?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale murmured something about imposing himself—Allan -laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay and believe me we shall be glad—Kathleen will be -glad to hear that you are staying awhile with us—come, you -will stay, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would give me more pleasure than you can know!" -Scarsdale said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan laughed, for him there was no double meaning in the -other man's words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had gained his point, his host had asked him to remain -on indefinitely, for days, weeks even, there would be no time -limit now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is good of you, Homewood—you don't realise how I -appreciate it—my opportunities of seeing home life, such as -this, are not many!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the lady you hope to marry?" Allan asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is not for me—yet——" he said steadily. "Thank -you again, Homewood, may I tell your wife that you have -asked me to remain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will be as pleased as I am!" Allan said simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale turned to the house, he left Allan sitting there -and Allan rested his chin on his hands. He was not deeply -religious. He had prayed, as men do, by fits and starts, in -moments of anxiety, in moments of relief and gratitude. But -his heart was offering up thanksgiving now. He had been -delivered from temptation. He thanked God for it, for his -own sake and for hers, that child's, for his father's sake, for -Kathleen's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But temptation might assail him again, would—and he, -knowing his own weakness now, knowing how nearly he had -succumbed to it, must do that thing that even brave men -may do and yet still keep their honour. He must avoid it, -he must shun it, even flee from it if necessary—but how?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty or he must go and how could he when this was his -home, when all his interests were here? How could he go, -how could be explained his reason for flight? No, it must be -she who must go!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must think, I must plan, I must consider her, yes, -consider her in every way, but she must go."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="why-abram-lestwick-stayed-from-church"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WHY ABRAM LESTWICK STAYED FROM CHURCH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Colley wagged her ancient head, she looked at -her granddaughter and smiled, shewing toothless gums.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Du 'ee notice now as Abram bain't in Church this -morning, my gell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lizbeth Colley frowned, "Abram Lestwick's comings and -goings du not interest I," she said in a low voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The service was in progress. There sat Mrs. Hanson, prim -and stiffly upright, the place beside her that had for so long -been Betty's was still vacant. There was Miss Dowell, tall, -angular and lantern jawed, gifted with a harsh and nasal -voice that rose above all other voices when the hymns were -being sung, beyond her, her niece little Mary Tiffley, who -minded Miss Dowell's shop, ran her unimportant errands, -cleaned her house and stye, windows and floors, a useful, -hard working little maid Mary, a good wife in the making -for some man who would probably work her even harder than -did her Aunt Emily. And beyond Mary, that vacant space -towards which Mrs. Colley's small bright eyes had been -attracted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram Lestwick, regular and devout worshipper, always -occupied this place. He had knelt beside Mary Tiffley, had -shared his torn and tattered hymn book with her, had thundered -the responses in her little ears and it is doubtful if he -had ever looked at the round childish pretty face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mary Tiffley, Polly Ransom, Ann Geach, what were they -to him, he to them? What mattered it to Abram Lestwick -that they were pleasant to look on, that they were fine, -healthy country maids, any one of whom would make some -man a good wife? He did not consider them, they did not -exist for him. He could not have told from memory whether -Mary Tiffley had fair hair or dark. He had sat next to her in -Church; he had bellowed the same hymns with her for five -years, since she was a child of twelve, she had grown up -beside him and he had not noticed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aunt Emily, Mister Lestwick bain't in Church this -marning," whispered Mary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see him bain't," said Miss Dowell. "Mind your -devotions now and don't 'ee getting looking about 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mortal glad I du be," Mary thought, "that he bain't here, -for his fingers do fidget I something terribul, they du."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Everyone in Church noted the fact that Abram Lestwick -was not there. Compared with the women, there were noticeably -few men in Church, Abram was always a distinguished -figure and they missed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the sermon, which they knew by heart, was -drawing towards its natural conclusion. When the Rector -arrived at—"And so it behooves us to bear these things in -mind. Let us put covetousness out of our heart, let us be -content with that which we have, no matter how poor or how -lowly be our lots in life. Let us accept God's goodness with -thankful hearts asking for no more than it pleaseth Him to -give—and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They knew from long experience that the sermon would -conclude in exactly two minutes from this point and now there -was a general movement, a rustling of Sunday dresses, a -shuffling of young feet, eager to be out scampering on the -grass, or on the good high road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was that movement in the little Church that takes -place in a railway carriage when the long, long journey is -nearing its end, when the station is almost gained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Colley stepped out briskly and smartly into the sunshine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A spryer woman I be than Mrs. Hanson, aye, a spryer and -a nimbler I be, so as one 'ud take I for being ten years -younger, though we were at school together. See how stiff -du be her walk, how she du lean on her umber-rella. 'Lizbeth, -take notice how her hand du shake remarkable! Good marning -to 'ee, Mrs. Hanson, and 'tis a lovely fine day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis:" said Mrs. Hanson briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fine marning and a good sarmint," said Mrs. Colley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis my favrit sarmint," said Mrs. Hanson, "I were -always partial to Nabob's vineyard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Dowell du be ageing terribul," said Mrs. Colley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson sniffed. She felt that she was ageing herself, -she missed the maid, though she would not admit it to herself. -Perilous bad was that maid and disobedient, and she, -Mrs. Hanson, was a stern, unbending, unyielding woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Dowell's Mary be growing to a fine maid!" said -Mrs. Hanson. She was approaching the vacant space in the pew -as it were, step by step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never noticed she, pertickler, I remember her -mother, one of they empty heads as I never could abide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I noticed," said Mrs. Colley, "I noticed Mrs. Hanson -as——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So did I!" said Mrs. Hanson, "Abram Lestwick were not -in Church, I noticed it tu."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis the first time——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis his own business and 'tis not yours nor mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Colley bridled. "I du notice a great change in Abram, -and if what I du hear be half true, that maid of yours hev -played Abram a bad trick, leaving him in the lurk like and -going and getting sarvice in the big house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will thank 'ee, Mrs. Colley, not to interfere wi' me and -my affairs. My grand-darter had her own rights to get any -place as she did chose, and whoever hev been saying ill -things o' she—I would hev took it friendly and neighbourly, -seeing me and you went to school together as young things, -I—I say I would hev took it neighbourly and friendly if you -had up and spoke for the maid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how did 'ee know as I didn't?" demanded Mrs. Colley -shrilly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I du know your tongue, Ann Colley and knowed -it of old I du, and it's a tongue as would sooner speak ill -things of your neighbours than good things and—and I wish -'ee good marning, Mrs. Colley, and my bes' respects to -'ee!" And shaking her old umbrella, Mrs. Hanson marched on, a -tall gaunt figure of a woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had worried her too, that Abram was not in Church, -she disliked changes; she had come to look for Abram in his -place every pleasant Sunday morning, and every unpleasant -one too for the matter of that. But fine or dirty the weather, -Abram had never failed till to-day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There be something wrong," Mrs. Hanson thought. "I -mislike it, Abram not being in his place, I missed his voice -in that 'ymn which we did have to-day and which he was -always partial to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not for days had she spoken to Abram. He passed the -cottage regularly, he touched his hat politely when he saw -Mrs. Hanson, for he was a polite man. But he had never -crossed the threshold since Betty had got her place in the -big house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Mrs. Hanson had heard things from others than Ann -Colley. She had heard how Abram patiently and stolidly -spent two hours every night staring at the arched green -doorway in the wall of Homewood, through which doorway he -knew must come Betty sooner or later.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson sat down to her Sunday dinner, it was a -frugal meal of cold boiled bacon, a cold potato and a piece of -bread. Mrs. Hanson was a strict Sabbatarian. Many and -many a time when Betty had dared to remonstrate about the -Sunday fare, Mrs. Hanson had said to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember my maid, as you du keep holy the Sabbath -day. Six days shalt 'ee labour and do your work, and not -a potato will I have cooked in house of mine on the Seventh -day, which be the day of the Lord, thy God, nor baked nor -biled meats will I hev."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But 'ee du bile the kettle, Grandmother, for to make a -cup of tea on Sundays same as other days!" Betty had said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That be a different thing, tea one must hev; the Lord -would not hev sent we tea if He had not meant we to bile -a kittle to make it with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor potatoes," Betty thought, "if they were not to be -cooked. After all, why was it a sin to boil water in a -saucepan and no sin to boil it in a kettle."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Mrs. Hanson sat down to cold bacon. Primly and -stiffly she sat and mumbled the bacon between her hard gums, -but she was not thinking of the carnal pleasure of feasting, -her thoughts were of Abram Lestwick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strange that he was not at Church, strange that he should -have missed on such a fine Sunday after all these years!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something must ail he," thought Mrs. Hanson and was -surprised that the idea had not occurred to her before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson finished her meal, she washed her plate in -cold water, she set it on the dresser. She put on her bonnet -again, she took her umbrella and locked the cottage door -behind her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram's cottage was three-quarters of a mile away and -Mrs. Hanson was feeling her age to-day. But she walked -the distance, she reached the cottage and tapped on the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson went in. Abram, dressed with his usual care, -was seated in a stiff chair, drawn up to a round table. On -the table, which was covered with a red flannel table cloth, -was a large Bible. Abram was reading from the Bible, -following the lines as he read them with his long, flat tipped -finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram's face was battered and scarred, there was a deep -gash on the forehead, there were livid marks under his right -eye, on his left cheek, and a contused wound on his upper lip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson looked at him, but she said nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you good marning, Mrs. Hanson, and beg of you -to be seated," said Abram.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson sat down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In higher circles educated and polite people are apt to -remark on any facial disturbance of a temporary disfiguring -nature that may have befallen their friends. In Mrs. Hanson's -circle it would have been considered bad form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It were remarked in Church, this marning, Abram, as -'ee was not present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I were not!" he lifted his head and looked at her, the -light shone in from the window and illuminated his battered -countenance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So being an old friend——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And very considerate of 'ee, Mrs. Hanson," he said. "I -will finish my chapter," he added.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat there waiting, she watched him as with the -forefinger of his right hand, which appeared to her to be -abnormally long and curiously flattened at the end, he traced -a line across the page, stopping at every word, which though -he uttered it not aloud, he evidently formed by muscular -exertion of his jaws. His left hand not being engaged with the -book was twisting and tearing the edge of the red flannel -table cloth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson shut her eyes, she could hear Abram's stertorous -breathing, then she heard a movement. He had evidently -finished, he closed the book solemnly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hev finished my chapter," he said; "spiritual comfort -be a very great blessing, Mrs. Hanson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" she said. "We had Nabob's vineyard for the sarmint -to-day, Abram, and 'ymn seventy-two, as I know 'ee be -partial to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wondered if he would tell her about his face, not for -all the world would she transgress the unwritten laws of -politeness and ask for an explanation. The reason, however, -why he had not been present at Church was obvious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Last night," he said after a long pause, "last night I -see the maid——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There be but one maid for me, Mrs. Hanson, and it be -onnecessary for me to give a name to she when I say the Maid -'ee will understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her still keeps contrairywise," said Abram.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her will give way," said Mrs. Hanson, "maids du!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram's right hand was trying to tear scraps from the -worn leather of the corner of the book, his left was still -engaged with the tablecloth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was looking at Mrs. Hanson, it seemed as if he was -trying to make up his mind to say something, several times -he opened his mouth and as many times closed it again in -silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well Abram, I must be getting along," she said it to urge -him to speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would beg of 'ee to take a cup of tea wi' me," he said, -"but Sunday be a day of fasting and repentance and prayer, -Mrs. Hanson, Ma'am! And moreover the fire hev gone out, -Mrs. Hanson——" Again he hesitated. "Mrs. Hanson, -hev 'ee ever met Mr. Homewood——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The barron-ite one," she asked, "or the young one as be -master?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The young one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, I hev met he and spoke to he and a very pleasant -spoken gentleman he be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh he be a very pleasant spoken gentleman—a very -pleasant spoken one, I du know!" A spasm seemed to pass -across the man's face, his fingers clenched suddenly, she -heard his long nails rasp over the leather cover of the book. -Looking she could see a series of deep scratches they had -furrowed in the stout leather.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why Abram bain't 'ee well to-day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I be very well, I thank 'ee, Mrs. Hanson, I be enjoying -unusual good health, I thank 'ee. I did not come to Church -this marning because—because in the dark last night—I did -stumble and fell as 'ee may have noticed, Mrs. Hanson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That he was lying, that it was no stumble, no fall, she -knew. Had it something to do with Betty and why had he -asked her if she knew Allan Homewood?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And as 'ee said 'ee must be getting along——" he suggested. -She rose to her feet, it was a hint, a broad one and -she took it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye! I must be getting along, Abram," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw her to the door, he went to the gate and opened it -for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank 'ee most politely for coming and calling, and I -wish 'ee good day, Mrs. Hanson!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood watching the tall upright figure down the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her be ageing," he said to himself, "ageing her be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went back into the cottage and closed the door after -him. He took the Bible and placed it on the small round -table in the window, on the Bible he laid an antimacassar, on -that a small glass case containing some flowers contrived in -wool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he stood still, he lifted his hands so that they were -between him and the light, he looked at them as though -examining them curiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very pleasant spoken gentleman he be!" And then he -laughed curiously.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-religion-of-sir-josiah"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE RELIGION OF SIR JOSIAH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From Kathleen's window the garden glowing in the -white sunshine was a feast of vivid colour. To-day -old Markabee, in clean smock and respectable though ancient -high hat, had wended his way to the village church, in -obedience to the persistent clanging of the unmusical bell. -But the bell was silent now, its noisy clamour was stilled and -the peace and calm of the day of rest brooded over the place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen sat, her chin resting on her hands, her eyes fixed -on the old garden, yet seeing nothing of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To her within the last few hours had come knowledge, a -wonderful knowledge, knowledge that brought with it a -strange fear and yet a great joy. She knew that she was to -fulfil her woman's destiny. At first she had been inclined to -question that knowledge, to doubt it, then she had waived -doubts aside. It was to be! and why should it not be? She -asked herself, was she glad? Was she sorry? She could find -no answer at first, just at first her one thought was "fear." But -it passed quickly and in its place came pride—pride and joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glad—yes, she was glad—her eyes were bright with the -joy that had come to her, there was a smile on her lips, and -yet about that smile there was a shade of melancholy and -sadness and a little too of the wistfulness of hunger. For -strangely, of the one knowledge, had been born another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had come to understand something which she had -been faintly conscious of for a long while past, something -that she had thought of perhaps yesterday when she had stood -beside the pool, listening to Harold Scarsdale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That other knowledge that she had gained made her -understand now why that parting with Scarsdale had cost her -so little anguish, so small a heartache. She had pitied him, -yet not herself, and then she had not known why this should -be, yet she knew it now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, after ten years dreaming, she had awakened to -find that the dream was but a dream after all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently into the garden came two who walked side by -side, the one tall and upright and strong, the other a hale and -hearty man, yet lacking the spring of youth in his sure -steps. She watched them and there came into her eyes a new -light, a light born of wonderful tenderness, into her fair -cheeks came a faint colour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She saw the younger put his arm about the elder's shoulder. -How they loved one another, those two, father and son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to tell him, I want him to know and yet—yet I -dare not tell him!" she thought. "Still, oh I want him to -know! I wonder, will he be glad and proud, proud as I am? -Or will he—be sorry?" Her head sank a little. "He would -be proud and glad if he loved me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan!" she said softly, "Allan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed almost as if from her brain there fled a message -to his, for he turned, he looked up at her and smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the sunshine was on his brown honest face and in his -clear eyes. He could only see the smile she had for him, he -could not read at this distance the message in her eyes, a -new message, one that they had never sent to him before, a -message of a newly found yet great and sure and strong love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now, as she watched him, she knew why yesterday she -had been able to turn that leaf, in the book of her life with -scarce a heartache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She knew the truth now, she had idealised the child's love, -she had lived on the ideal, had tended it and cared for it -and worshipped it and had made it the most beautiful and -wonderful thing in her life. She had built for herself a -great and wonderful palace and had found that its -foundations were laid on the shifting sands, and so the dream palace -had crumbled and fallen into utter ruin, the dream had ended, -and with clear eyes she beheld the truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This morning Scarsdale had told her quietly that he had -been asked to stay by Allan. He had watched her curiously -while he told her, had wondered if she would shew anger or -annoyance, and she had shewn neither.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was only the gracious hostess who expressed her -pleasure at his continued stay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When our other friends are gone, I am afraid you will -find it very dull, unless you are interested in those things -that Allan is interested in—this modern, scientific -farming." She smiled at him, there was no self-consciousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yesterday might never have been, all the years, all their -memories might never have been. This man was her guest, -her husband's friend—his guest from this moment, nothing -more. She was not playing a part, she was not cheating -herself. Yesterday she had told him that as lovers they had -parted forever, as mere friends they would probably meet -many times, and so it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harold Scarsdale represented nothing to her now; he was -even less her friend henceforth than her husband's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had wondered at the far-away look in her eyes, at the -almost mechanical way in which she had accepted his news. -How could he guess how utterly and completely her thoughts -were filled with this knowledge, the greatest, most wonderful -that ever comes into a woman's life?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so she sat here by her window and watched the figures -of the two men, both dear to her, but one grown suddenly -so wonderfully, so inexpressibly dear that the strength -and depth of her love almost made her afraid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In spite of the smile he had given Kathleen a while ago, -there was this morning a cloud on Allan's brow, a weight -of care on his heart. He was worried and anxious, he -wanted to do what was right, he wanted to act justly and -honourably, and he knew that he was afraid—afraid for -himself, afraid of a man's weakness, afraid of temptation -that he would willingly flee if he could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Long ago he had promised to be open and honest with -Kathleen, had promised to tell her if that which had been -so unreal, so intangible, should by any chance become real, -and it had and yet he hesitated to tell her. It had been so -easy to promise then, so difficult to perform. But he wanted -advice, he wanted help and to whom could he turn if not -to her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was his father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked down at the kindly old face. But would his -father understand? He doubted it. What patience would -Sir Josiah, man of affairs, business man and materialist, -have with dreams and visions and such-like rubbish? Yet -Allan had a boyish, and because it was boyish, an honest -longing to take someone into his confidence, to unburden his -mind, to ask advice, to share his thoughts with some other -and if not Kathleen, who better, who more natural than his -father?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so he made up his mind to speak, but hesitated. -Twice he commenced, twice he branched off lamely into -something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter, Allan lad?" Sir Josiah asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Matter, father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, matter, my son! I know you better than you think -I do perhaps. You've got something worrying you and -that's a fact. Now what is it? Is it Gowerhurst, has his -lordship been saying anything or—or wanting anything, hey?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Gowerhurst has——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, look here," Josiah took his son's arm and pressed -it closely. "I know his lordship, he's a gentleman, a man of -position, a man of rank and title and like that—but he's -hard up and when a man's pushed, well I suppose he ain't -too particular, can't afford to be; it just crossed my mind -that his lordship might—I say might have asked you, Allan, -to lend him a helping hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well then I'm wrong, but it might happen, and if I -turned out to be right I wouldn't like you to have to say -no to Kathleen's father, boy, I wouldn't like that—and it -might hurt her, our—our little girl—eh, if she knew."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our little girl," what a wealth of tenderness and love -in those three words! It was never "her ladyship" now, it -was just that: "our little girl." Allan felt something sting -in his eyes for a moment, his hand rested more heavily on -his father's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I wouldn't like to hurt her in any way, even that -way, Allan, so—so if his lordship should—and it seems to -me very likely that his lordship may—why do you see, -Allan, you can draw on me. Of course he won't never pay -back, that's not to be looked for nor expected and one thing -he wouldn't expect to get a wonderful lot out of you—so if -he does ask you must say Yes—up to five hundred, Allan, -and then let me know quietly, and there you are, there you -are, my boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if there is another man in all the world like -my father?" Allan said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless you, heaps and heaps and a sight better. But -there's one thing, Allan, there's never a father in this world -as knows and loves his son as I know and love mine and -so—so boy—out with it, out with it now and here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had come to a shady place, under the tall yews. -Here was an inviting seat and on the seat Sir Josiah settled -himself and drew Allan down beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out with it—with what, father?" Allan asked lamely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why out with what's worrying you, my boy; do you -think I didn't see it, do you think when I saw you first -thing this morning and took just one look at you I didn't -see it there—there in your face and eyes? Why bless you, -of course I did; it ain't money, Allan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew that, then what is it? Not—not trouble, nothing -amiss with—between you and her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God!" the old man said. "And so—so it isn't -that and therefore it can't be anything bad—so I'm waiting, -Allan, waiting, dear lad, tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, if I did you could not understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd try, Allan," the old man said simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, by Heaven I will tell you, father, and you shall -try and understand, though—though if you do, you will -be more clever than I, for I cannot understand." Allan -lifted his hand to his head for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you remember something that you told me once -about—an ancestor of ours—whose name was the same as -mine—a labourer here—a gardener, who married his -mistress' serving maid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And whose son went to London and took over the Green -Gates in Aldgate—why of course I do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Allan quietly, "that's it——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah looked at him. "God bless my soul!" he said, -and if ever there were mystification on a man's face, it was -on his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, do you believe that the soul can outlast and -outlive not one earthly body, but many, ten, a hundred, a -thousand, that when the body perishes as all things earthly -must perish, the soul can and does find another dwelling -place? Ah! I don't make myself clear." He broke off, -seeing the mystification deepen in the old man's face. "I -am afraid I never can. Think this out, father, a man dies, -the body perishes, but the soul, the ego, the spirit lives on. -It finds another body, which it animates for good or for -evil, it completes another life, and then all happens over -again. Each time the body dies, the soul passes through -oblivion and returns to earth——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, here, Allan!" cried the old man. "Here, bless -my soul, didn't you ought to see someone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan smiled ruefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you never heard of re-incarnation, the re-incarnation -of the soul, father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I can't say as I ever have and I don't know as I -ever want to. I've only got one life and though I mayn't -succeed in many little things none too well, I'm trying to -do the best I can with it. Looking back—" the old man -went on, "looking back, Allan, I can say and thank God as -I can say it that I can't remember ever having done a dirty -act or ever having played a mean trick on a man or a woman -in my life. I accepted my body like it was, a loan from -God; I've used it and kept it clean and when the time comes -for me to hand it back to Him, why then I want to feel as -I can hand it back in good condition and good order—fair -wear and tear excepted, Allan, and that's how I look at -things. I don't pretend to know, there's some as does, yet -they are only men, the same as me and you, dear lad, and -they don't know—no one knows—and it's as well for us, -maybe, we don't! It's a beautiful world and a wonderful -world and God lent it to us the same as He lent us our -bodies to use properly, to admire and to make the most of -and enjoy. Beyond that, I don't seek to know anything, -but when my time comes, I want to be able to think to -myself a prayer, that goes somehow this way—'God, this is -the body You lent to me, I'm done with it and now I'm -giving it back; I've tried to keep it clean and honest, I've -treated it as if it was something belonging to You more than -to me—and that I was in honour bound obliged to deal with -carefully. If there's a Heaven and You know best, I hope -you'll find a place in it for my soul, because in keeping my -body clean, oh Lord, I've kept my soul clean along with -it!' That's how I look at things, Allan, I ain't good at talk -of this sort. Maybe you'll think I've got funny ideas, so -I have, but don't tell me nothing about this re-incarnation -of yours; I don't hold with it, boy, I don't believe in it; -if it's true, and it may be, mind you, it may be, it isn't for -us to know if it's true or not. If it was right, we should -know, then God would find some way of telling us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps He has!" Allan thought, but he said no more. -No, he could not tell his father, for his father would never -understand!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-very-worthy-man"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"A VERY WORTHY MAN"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Allan's conscience smote him sorely. He had -misjudged and dealt hardly with Abram Lestwick. He -had thought, had honestly believed, that the man had -intended drawing a knife on him and in his fury and anger -had punished his victim unmercifully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Later, when he had gone carefully over Lestwick's clothing -and had found no traces of weapons hidden there, he had -known his suspicion had been unjust. It weighed on his -mind, he went over the incident again and again. He -wondered if he had seriously hurt the man. He felt anxious -and ill at ease, as must every just man when he is conscious -of an unintentional act of injustice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It troubled him the more because he knew that he did not -like Lestwick, that to a certain extent he shared Betty's -antipathy for the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Betty to spend all her days with Abram Lestwick! -That could not and should never be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet in this Allan felt himself in the wrong and there -was but one course open to him. To seek Lestwick out, to -admit frankly that he had erred, to ask the man's forgiveness -and to make amends, if amends were possible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And yet Allan decided that in a way the man deserved -all that he had got, he had pestered and worried Betty, he -had waylaid her, to obtrude his hateful love on the -frightened, shrinking maid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hang him!" Allan muttered between his teeth. "If he -ever does it again I—" he clenched his hands and felt very -bitter for a moment towards Abram Lestwick, then the -bitterness was gone. He himself had done wrong, had -misjudged and therefore only one course was possible to Allan -Homewood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Gowerhurst having found another bedroom, where -he was not likely to be disturbed by sounds of bird life, -had decided to stay on for a day or two. The country -would do him no harm, he would be all the better by the -change. His appetite was getting to be really quite -satisfactory, though even at the very worst of time, Lord -Gowerhurst was no mean performer with the knife and fork.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had also made the discovery that Allan's butler, the -staid, deferential and respectable Mr. Howard, had at some -time in his career been a valet and could still shave with -some dexterity and was moreover a very polite and capable -man, so his lordship took possession of Howard and another -room and declared his intention of staying till Tuesday or -Wednesday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah and Mr. Coombe and the rest were not averse -to one day more of holiday. The newly installed telephone -enabled them to get into touch with their City offices, with -the result that the little house party would not definitely -break up till Wednesday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Allan, with the weight of his injustice to Abram -Lestwick on his conscience, set out this Monday morning to do -penance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He knew that Lestwick was employed by Patcham at the -Moat Farm. Betty had told him. The Moat Farm formed -part of the Homewood Estate and Patcham was his tenant; -what more natural than he should call on so worthy a tenant -and talk crops and soil and manures and such like with him? -And then how easily and naturally would slip out a word -or two about Abram Lestwick. Was he a good man? an -honest worker? and if he should prove to be these and -deserving, Allan must see what he could do for the man to -make up for the injustice of his treatment of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen followed him out of the breakfast room this -morning. Lord Gowerhurst was not yet risen and Mr. Coombe -had expanded under the influence of His Lordship's -absence. Mr. Coombe was telling stories of high finance. -That his stories were interminably long and without any -point and of no particular interest, did not matter. Coombe -was a sound man, Sir Josiah honoured him, Cutler and -Jobson admired him. Sir Harold Scarsdale took no notice of -him, so was not bored by his stories. Scarsdale was thinking -naturally of Kathleen. He thought of little else, her manner -troubled him. He could not, frankly he could not understand -her. She was smilingly polite, courteous and considerate, -she was friendly and sweet to him, and it made him -realise that he represented nothing at all to her. But she -was playing a part, and playing it well, he argued with -himself. A woman, and a woman like Kathleen, could not -apparently without effort or sense of loss tear out an image -that has been enshrined in her heart for ten long years. It -puzzled him, worried him, even angered him, but he told -himself he must be patient. His was now the waiting game, -and he believed that he had but to wait long enough and all -that he desired on this earth would be his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Kathleen followed Allan out into the wide hall and -found his cap and selected his stick for him and did -just those little things that a tender, thoughtful, loving -woman always does and meanwhile she looked at him with -a strange wistfulness, a curious pleading in her eyes, eyes -that told of a hunger and longing in her soul. But he, -man-like, was blind to it, yet not insensible of her goodness and -her thought for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-day she felt a strange unwillingness to let him go, she -did what she had never done before. She slipped her hand -through his arm and walked with him down the wide pathway -to the gate, the sunshine in her hair and on her face. -Sir Josiah, bored by Coombe's unending story, yet too polite -to shew it, watched them from the window, a smile on his -face. It was good to see them like this—such friends, such -comrades!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wanted to tell him—not of Scarsdale, for that had -sunk into insignificance now—now that there was something -so much greater, so much more wonderful for him to know. -But not yet, not yet—not out here in the sunshine with -perhaps someone watching them from the window. -Presently—presently when they should be quite alone!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So at the gate she paused, she looked at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And once I thought I loved—Harold!" she thought. -"Once I thought so and now I know—I love——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you want me to go out this morning, dear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, yes, you're going to old Custance to talk——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm going to the Moat Farm to see Patcham, it's -time I called on him. But if you would rather I stayed——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" she said. "Go! Good-bye, Allan!" she added -softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They would have parted with a touch of the hand as they -always did. They kissed on rising and on retiring, but at -no other time of the day. Yet to-day she clung to his hand -for a moment, her heart was filled with tenderness for him, -longing and a desire to keep him that she was too unselfish -to pander to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why dear——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was something about her that he could not understand -to-day, something in the tight hold of her hand, in the -unwonted colour in her cheeks, the wonderful brightness -in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is nothing, dear, go—good-bye!" she said, yet as she -spoke she lifted his hand and held it against her soft cheek, -just for a moment and then would have turned, yet before -she did, he caught her suddenly—why he did not know—it -was a moment of passion irresistible, something that came -so swiftly that he could not question it, could not understand -it. He caught her and held her and kissed her and then -quickly let her go and without a word went striding forth, -conscious of a feeling of shame, as though he had offered her -insult.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she stood looking after him, her hands pressed -against her breast, her eyes wide. Not once did he turn; -had he done so perhaps he might have seen, might have -understood the longing in her eyes, the hunger for the love -that he never dreamed she needed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan walked on quickly. A woman in moments of mental -stress can find relief in tears, a man more usually in violent -movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a little shaken, a little unnerved, greatly -surprised at himself. Why had he done that, why had his -heart leaped suddenly at the touch of her soft cheek on his -hand, why had he—done what he had done? Yet, having -done it, regretted nothing. It seemed to him that from that -moment Kathleen held a new interest for him. He had -regarded her as friend and companion—from this moment on -he knew that she meant more than this to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Farmer John Patcham received him courteously, with a -deference and respect that had nothing whatever of servility -about it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis a fine marning," he said, "and I be just going to -have my usual lunch, Mr. Homewood, a very plain and -simple lunch it be, just a glass of ale and a plum-heavy, very -partial I be to plum-heavies and there's no one in all Sussex -makes 'em better than my wife, so if you'll join me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan did. They sat in the somewhat stuffy little -parlour, the window of which remained hermetically sealed, -summer and winter, and drank good brown beer and ate -those Sussex cakes that for some reason have never achieved -the fame of the cakes of Banbury or the Buns of Bath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And over their cakes and ale they talked and Allan -surprised the farmer somewhat by the depth and advancement of -his knowledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You been getting your head laid alongside old Custance -now I'll be bound," he said, "wunnerful advanced man -Custance be, as sets great store on book larning to be sure. But -if so be you be minded to try hop raising in this part of -Sussex, Mr. Homewood, I say give it up! 'Tis the soil, -sir, 'tis the soil! Hops be all right for Kent and the -Midlands, but—" and so on and so on, from hops to manures, -chemical and otherwise, to tithes and land taxes, to red -cows and brindled cows and the swine of Berkshire and of -Yorkshire, on all of which subjects Mr. Patcham laid down -the law and smote the rickety round table with a heavy -hand, to drive his points home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Flints," said Patcham, "flints be the cussedest things, -wunnerful how flints du crop up. Clean a field, pick it, -hand-pick it of flints, clear out every flint there du be and -in three months what du 'ee find? Flints, sir, bushels of -'em, tons of 'em! In some counties it du be fuzz and Sussex -has its share of fuzz, come to that, but flints—I were but -saying to Abram last Saturday—no, 'twere Friday——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abram—that is Abram Lestwick, isn't it?" Allan asked. -"He works for you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, Abram be my right hand man, straight he be, -straight as an arrer, honest as the day be Abram, not a -drinking man, quiet and respectable like in his manners, -never an angry word or a cross look do 'ee get from Abram -Lestwick. Lucky I be to have such a man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" Allan said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one ever did see Abram lose his temper——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have," thought Allan, "but it was pardonable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Soft spoken and gentle, but a wunnerful hand with the -men, reg'lar to Church and walking in the fear of the Lord -du be Abram Lestwick, and wi' sheep never a man to -compare wi' he—whether it be lambing time or shearing, a born -shepherd be Abram!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a good reliable man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't one to come nigh nor near to him," said -Farmer Patcham, "a good wage du I pay he and worth it -every penny he be—thirty-five shillings and a cottage to -hisself, no less. And what the maids be about, beats I and -the Missus too, a hard man to fault," went on Patcham, "a -very hard man to fault, sir, and you'll believe me. My -Missus and the maids here du complain a bit about they -hands of his, restless hands as you may have noticed, sir, -but what's that, all said and done? And now, maybe, you'll -take a look round the farm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan took a look round the farm and saw a back view -of Abram in the rick yard, but Abram never turned and -apparently did not notice the visitor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good man," Patcham said, "a reliable, trustworthy, -honest, sober man, likely to make his way in the world. No -frequenter of the ale-house and a regular churchgoer, a man -with rare and wonderful knowledge of the soil and of sheep. -Hi, Abram, Abram, my lad, come 'ee here! Here be -Mr. Homewood a-hearing all about 'ee from me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very slowly Abram turned his discoloured face, his -attitude was of intense humility, he seemed to cower, his -furtive hands wandered up and down the edge of his -waistcoat, yet never once did he look into Allan's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Abram lad, 'ee've been in the wars, surely!" cried -Patcham. "What hev come to your face, lad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An accident," Abram mumbled, "a blundering fellow, I -be in the dark, Mister Patcham!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patcham smiled. "Had it been any other than 'ee, Abram, -I would say it were through fighting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan looked at his victim, he felt a strange pity, mingled -with an invincible repugnance. The man looked so inoffensive, -so humble, even servile and yet—Allan's attention -was directed to those strangely restless hands; he found that -they attracted and held his eyes. He remembered how Betty -had cried out in fear and horror of those same hands. Poor -little Betty, never, never, Allan resolved, should those hands -touch the child, if he could prevent it!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would like to speak to Lestwick, Mr. Patcham," he -said, "if I have your permission?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, aye, of course, why not?" said the farmer, looking a -little surprised. "Do 'ee mean alone, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, alone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patcham eyed Allan a little resentfully, a little -suspiciously. "I hope," he began, "I hope, Mr. Homewood, as -'ee've got no idea o' trying to get Abram away from me? -I've spoke out for he and spoken as I did find, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan smiled. "Have no fear, I want to speak to Lestwick -on an entirely different matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patcham's face cleared as he walked away. "Now I du -wonder what he can have to say to Abram?" he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the two were left together and Allan, looking -at the abject, servile creature before him, felt suddenly -tongue-tied. He was conscious of a feeling of hot shame. -Those unsightly marks, those livid bruises were his work, -the work of his fists. How desperately he must have -punished the man in his rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lestwick—I have something to say to you, an apology -to make, I wish to ask your pardon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wandering eyes were lifted for a moment to Allan's -face, then dropped again, the hands were at their nervous -work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I misjudged you and in my anger treated you roughly, -for which I am deeply sorry," said Allan, eager to make his -amends and be done with it, for he could not but be conscious -of his great and growing repugnance and repulsion for the -man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waited, but Abram said nothing, he stood there mute, -his eyes seeming to search the ground about him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You misled me—when we—when you and I—on Saturday -night, when we fought, I mean—I say you misled me, -I thought you had a knife and thinking so I struck you -hardly. I am sorry for it, I made a mistake and I wish -to ask your forgiveness for what I did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And still the man did not answer; why did he not speak? -What was he waiting for, was it——?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A smile came into Allan's face, it was a smile of contempt. -He might have guessed it, there was only one plaster -for such a wound as Abram's. He took out his pocket-book -and from it a five pound note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope you will accept this," he said, "and with it my -apology."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Abram looked up, his eyes wandered from Allan's face to -the outstretched hand that held the note. He seemed to -hesitate, a convulsion passed across his features, then he -stretched out his hand suddenly and took the note. He did -not snatch it, for Abram was ever a polite man, he took it -gently and looked at it and then—then he tore it, slowly -across and across and yet again, tore it into small strips -that he flung to the ground and stamped into the soft earth -with his foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thank 'ee, Mr. Homewood," he said in his low, passionless -voice, "I du thank 'ee most politely, I du, sir, for your -good intentions toward I—I thank 'ee, sir, most politely!" And -then he turned away and went slowly to his work in the -rick yard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan stood lost in wonder, he watched the man go, he -glanced down at the ragged scraps of what had once been -a valuable piece of paper, trodden into the earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So be it! He had done all that he could do, the man had -apparently refused to accept his apology. Sudden anger -came to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lestwick!" he called sharply. "Lestwick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lestwick stopped, but did not turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have this to say to you, my man," Allan said hotly, -"I injured you, under a wrong impression, for which I have -expressed regret, but I believe, on my soul, that you really -deserved all you got. You have annoyed and terrorised a -girl who has no feeling save of fear and dislike of you. In -future you will leave her alone; if I find you hanging about -my house, waiting to waylay Betty Hanson, then I'll deal -with you again, as I dealt with you on Saturday night. -Remember that, my man, it's no idle threat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lestwick made no answer, he did not turn, he stood still, -as though waiting patiently for Allan to complete his -remarks, and then when silence fell, Lestwick went slowly -on his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan made his way homeward, with a feeling of anger -in his breast. He had done all that a man might do, and -he had been repulsed. No wonder that Betty, poor little -Betty, felt horror and loathing for the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he sane, is he normal?" Allan questioned himself. -"There is something—about him—" he shuddered. "I can't -understand it, I never loathed a human being in my life, as -I loathe that man, but Betty——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What could he do about Betty, how unravel the tangle, -how straighten out that very winding path of the child's -life? She loved him, had she not said it a hundred times -with tears and with pleading? Yet was it the real love? -The one passion of a life-time? He doubted it, for Allan -Homewood held himself in no high esteem and could not -think of himself as one for whom any woman would care -deeply. No, it could not be that, it must be the strange tie -that united them, that lifting of the curtain that had revealed -to them both a glimpse into some strange past that was not -of this life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What, did she want of him? What did she expect, ask -of him? But whatever it was, how impossible it all was!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-day he had kissed Kathleen, his wife, as never before -had he kissed her and remembering this, a softer, more -tender look came into his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was Kathleen thinking now? Had he surprised, -even frightened her, was she hurt or angry, or could she -understand and forgive that sudden wave of passion that -had come to him? Love and passion for her—his own wife! -His cheeks flushed a little, it seemed to him that all his little -world was in strange and dire confusion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson, standing at her own gate, tall, erect, and -brown of face, beady of eyes, bobbed to him an exaggerated -respectful curtsey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan lifted his hat to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And good morning to 'ee, sir," she said and treated him -to another curtsey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope my maid du be conducting herself in a seemly -manner and giving satisfaction to my lady, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!" Allan said; he felt confused before those keen -bright eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A strange, wilful maid her be in many ways, sir, yet her -heart be so good as gold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is wonderfully pretty, your granddaughter, Mrs. Hanson!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beauty be but a snare and likewise is but skin deep. I -set no stores by such, 'tis the heart as tells, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But her heart is good, I am sure." He was talking for -the mere sake of talking, for an idea bad come into his brain, -a little dim and vague as yet, but yet an idea that possibly -might mean a way to safety for them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-hearted her may be, but most terribul obstinate -and stubborn, a perilous obstinate maid, terribul contrairy -and self willed her du be in many ways——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In—in what ways?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In marrying," said Mrs. Hanson, "I hev chose for she -a good honest man as du walk upright in the sight of the -Lord, a man as du keep hisself to hisself and du keep holy -the Sabbath day, reading in the Bible and not with an eye -to every maid, though there be many wishful of attracting -his attention. Wonderful partial he be to my Betty tu, -wonderful partial and keen and eager for she."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There bain't a better in all Sussex and yet that perilous -obstinate maid will hev none of he!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because she may dislike the man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dis-like, what hev that to do with it, sir? Why should -Betty dis-like Abram Lestwick—a man earning his thirty-five -shillings a week and with a cottage to himself and all -keen set as he be——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have seen the man and can understand her dislike for -him. He lays in wait for her, outside the gates; she is -afraid to venture out of nights because of this man, whom she -fears and hates. And you, can you not understand the -child's aversion for such a man as Lestwick, Mrs. Hanson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I cannot and will not! A proper man be Abram -and rare grateful and glad any maid should be attracting the -like of he!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty is neither glad nor grateful, she goes in fear of -him, hates him and is terrified by the very thought of -him—it would be death—do you understand, death to the girl to -force her into a marriage so shocking! Why are you so -keen for it? Why do you seek to drive her against her -own natural inclinations, why—why?" Allan cried hotly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She eyed him with cold disfavour. What business was all -this of his, of young Mr. Homewood of Homewood Manor -House? She would have looked on him with some suspicion, -yet there was something so open in his face, his anger was so -honest, that she could not, even if she would, suspect him -of an interest in pretty Betty, that reflected no credit on him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Abram hev thirty-five shillings a week and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And for thirty-five shillings a week you would force this -child to marry a man she hates, you would wreck and ruin -her life, you would drive her perhaps—God knows—to -death—to suicide! Can't you understand that it is not mere -dislike she feels for him, it is hate and terror! Thirty-five -shillings a week!" He laughed aloud in scorn, he flung his -head back, his face was flushed, his eyes bright, and -Mrs. Hanson stared at him in wonderment and with something -of anger too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen to me," Allan said and his voice was more gentle -and quiet, he looked into the keen, hard, old face. "Listen -to me, Mrs. Hanson, you are Betty's grandmother. I believe -you are her only living relative. If you think so highly of -thirty-five shillings a week and of a cottage—I will make -you an offer—" He paused, "I will undertake to pay to you -as Betty's guardian, a sum that will equal the amount of -Abram Lestwick's wages. I will find a cottage for -you—not here—not near here even—and you shall have it rent -free, so that Betty may live with you and that you shall -not torment her further about this man Lestwick. Do you -understand? I will give to you and to Betty all that Abram -Lestwick could give, the money and the cottage! And you -and the girl shall go away from here—away for good. She -is young and she is beautiful, she will surely find many -eager to marry her, and she shall choose and pick among them -for herself. Do you understand, do I make myself plain?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plain—aye, plain!" she said; under the black bodice -the thin old breast rose and fell, she gripped the rails of -the gate and stared into his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why—why are 'ee willing to do this, give this to -Betty Hanson, Mr. Homewood?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To save her from marriage with a man I dislike and distrust, -as much as she does—for that reason and that reason -alone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee be mighty generous, Mr. Homewood!" Her hard -voice quivered with suspicion, and yet—yet she looked him -full in the eyes and he looked back at her and there was no -shame, no confusion, nothing of the look of one who has -something on his conscience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I do not understand—" she said slowly, "I do not -understand!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I do not suppose you do understand. Shall we leave -it at that? My offer holds good, accept it and make a happy -home for the child—but not here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee du seem mighty set on it not being here!" she said -thoughtfully. "Mighty set 'ee du be. Does the maid know -your intentions to she, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I had no such intentions just now, the thought has -only just come into my mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded slowly. He had said that she could not -understand and he was right. Whoever heard the like -before? Thirty-five shillings a week and a cottage and -all—all for nothing! Whoever heard the like before? Certainly -not Mrs. Hanson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All bewildered I be," she said and said it aloud, though -it was not intended for his ears. "All bewildered and -wonder struck I du be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you agree, answer me, do you agree to this? Tell -me, Mrs. Hanson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the maid—you du say, sir, she hev not heard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has not heard, but if you agree, you can tell her -yourself, tell her this evening and then you shall give me her -and your answer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the maid is willing," she said slowly, "though all the -same I be partial to Abram."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her terror of him should have some weight with you. -Take her away from this place to where she will never see -him again, you will?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him. "Send the maid to me to-night and -I will talk of it wi' she."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood at the gate, staring down the road after him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thirty-five shillings a week and a cottage—far away -from here for Betty and for me and for nothing, for nothing! -Very bewildered and wonderstruck I be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Allan, hurrying homeward, was thinking—if this -might be the solution, how easy it was after all, freedom for -Betty from Abram Lestwick—a new life for the little maid -among new faces—where soon—soon she would forget her -dreams in the old garden and him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, when all was done and Betty and her grandmother -gone for good, he would tell Kathleen; it would be -easy to tell her then and Kathleen would understand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-awakening"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE AWAKENING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Bright eyes, the brightest he believed he had ever -seen, greeted Allan. Eyes so kind, so bright and so -tender that he knew before ever a word had been spoken that -he had not offended, that Kathleen was not angry with him, -not hurt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He felt a great wave of relief and then the feeling passed -and gave place to wonder, because in some subtle way -Kathleen had changed. To others she was still the Kathleen he -knew and loved and respected, but to him she had become -another being, her eyes were misty and soft and tender, for -him, there was a rich, rare colour in her cheeks. He felt -his own heart respond. As they were passing into lunch -he touched her hand—why?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no reason for it, it was just the impulse of -the moment, yet he felt that he must do it, so he did and she -turned and looked at him and it seemed to him that the -colour deepened in her cheeks and the look in her eyes was -more tender than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the touch of that little hand of hers made his heart -leap. This was no mere friendship, this was no mere liking, -no symptom of respect. He wondered at himself, wondered -at its meaning and as a result he failed to hear Lord -Gowerhurst, who was addressing himself particularly to Allan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a matter of fact Lord Gowerhurst, departing on the -morrow, found himself woefully short of money. He was -not in the cue to approach Sir Josiah and a timely loan of -a comparatively small sum from Allan, a mere fifty or even -twenty-five, would be agreeable to his lordship. Later on -Sir Josiah's money bags must be properly besieged, with -all due form and with a regard to detail for which there was -no time at the moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If, therefore, you could give me ah—ten minutes—some -time most convenient to yourself, my dear Allan—" said -his lordship with unwonted humility.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, delighted!" Allan murmured, and was -thinking of Kathleen all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had he ever appreciated her properly? Had he ever -realised the exquisite beauty of her face, a beauty that was -spiritual, was of expression rather than of mere form and -mould of feature. How sweetly gracious she was, how -charming, not even the loquacious and boresome Coombe -aroused irritability in her—how his old father worshipped -her—what a strange, yet perfect understanding there seemed -to be between them, the old City man of business, of plebeian -origin and this young and gracious well born lady. Yet -they were so obviously and so certainly friends, good, close, -true friends, with a mutual understanding and a mutual love -for one another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Allan did not make the most agreeable of companions -at that meal and his lordship felt uneasy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if the fellow suspects I'm going to ask a small -loan, a mere trifle till I get back to town? Confound it, -it's deuced unpleasant for a man in my position to—er—place -himself under an obligation to a mere stripling like -this! I can't ask Scarsdale, there's something deuced -standoffish about the fellow; I almost wish I hadn't taken -Scarsdale up again, I've got an idea that Scarsdale lets bygones -rankle. By George, though, I did give him a dressing down -in those days, and by George he deserved it—asked for -it—begad, and got it too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just for a moment Allan had an opportunity for a word -with Kathleen when lunch was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—you are not angry with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Angry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was she a woman of twenty-nine almost, or only a maiden -of nineteen that suddenly her eyes dropped before his, that -suddenly a deep rich colour came flaming her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen—Kathleen!" He caught her hand, he was -suddenly in a strange tremble, and then in on them burst -Mr. Coombe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wistaria, not westeria, Jobson, my boy, if you'd done -the gardening I've done at Tulse Hill—I—I beg pardon!" -stammered Mr. Coombe, taken aback.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen smiled. "You are quite right, Mr. Coombe, it is -wistaria!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got one over my house at Tulse Hill," said Mr. Coombe, -"with a stem, if you'll believe me, as thick as my -body!" Which was an exaggeration, as Mr. Coombe's body -was of no ordinary thickness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I forgot—" he said, and his eyes and Kathleen's -met. "I saw Mrs. Hanson at her gate as I passed and she -says if you can spare her granddaughter this evening, -Kathleen, she would be glad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will send Betty," Kathleen said, "though the old woman -was not very kind to her, still she is old and alone. Yes, I -will see that Betty goes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lordship secured his quiet ten minutes with Allan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Most foolish and stupid of me, forgot to bring my cheque -book, I can't think what possessed me—I assure you, Allan, -I was astounded at my oversight. Of course one can draw -a cheque on a sheet of note paper, but my Bank don't like -it—no, they don't like it, sir—and so—so——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be only too pleased to be of service to you," said -Allan promptly, so promptly that his lordship was a little -taken aback.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Allan seemed so ready, so willing—it would be a -shameful waste of opportunity to make the amount so small -as he had originally intended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If—if—er—a couple of hundred wouldn't put you to -inconvenience——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With pleasure," Allan said. "I'll send Howard over to -Stretton in the car, he'll be able to get to the Bank just in -time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never in the whole course of his experience, and it had -been large, had his lordship had such a request granted with -such alacrity and willingness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Allan, 'pon my soul now, 'pon my soul, it is -very good of you—I take a pleasure, sir, a pleasure in being -under an obligation to you, even though it is only a -temporary one. You're a good fellow, Allan, a deuced generous, -open-handed good fellow and—and I honour you, sir, and -your father too, and it's a pleasure and a relief to me, be -Gad, to think that my girl has entered your family—a family -of—of gentlemen, be gad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old chap!" Allan thought. "It must be hard for -a man in his position and of his rank to have to lower -himself and demean himself to borrow money—" He sighed, -and then smiled in wonder at himself that he should feel so -kindly towards Lord Gowerhurst, for whom he had previously -felt nothing but aversion and contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But then Lord Gowerhurst was Kathleen's father and for -some reason to-day that made just all the difference in the -world to Allan. So, having lent Lord Gowerhurst two -hundred pounds, Allan resolved that he would say nothing to -his own father about it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Custance claimed Allan that afternoon and when Custance -had done with him there was barely time to reach home and -dress for dinner, so he did not see Kathleen till they met at -the dinner table. And to-night she was looking her loveliest -and her best. Even Coombe remarked her heightened colour -and tried to pay her a clumsy compliment on her looks and -meeting Lord Gowerhurst's cold stare when half way through -his speech, faltered and broke down and burst into profuse -perspiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Kathleen smiled on him and thanked him and told him -in a little confidential whisper, that highly pleased Coombe, -that she was getting to be an old, old woman. In less than -eighteen months she would be thirty years of age, and though -she had not found a grey hair as yet, no doubt she soon -would.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old, my dear—" said Mr. Coombe, and then blushed -crimson, "I beg your pardon——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have nothing to beg my pardon for—Sir Josiah's -friends are mine—and if one of them is kind enough to call -me my dear, it only proves that he likes me and I like to be -liked, Mr. Coombe, by my friends!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so you are, so you are, and as for getting old, never, -you'll never be old, you'll be young to the last day of your -life, if you live to be eighty, and please God you will!" And -Mr. Coombe turned deliberately and stared Lord Gowerhurst -full in the face with an expression that said as plain -as words—"If you don't like the way I am behaving and -if you don't like my paying compliments to your daughter—then -you can go to the deuce and go as soon as you like, my -Lord, and be hanged to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Among that company of gentlemen Harold Scarsdale was -inconspicuous. That he was better bred than Mr. Coombe -and Mr. Jobson was obvious, that he could talk a good deal -better than any of them Allan at least knew, but it pleased -Scarsdale to hold his tongue and keep himself much in the -background. From that background he watched Kathleen -and the more he watched the less did he seem to understand -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He remembered the passion of the old days, he remembered -that scene by the lake only two short days ago, how -during those two days had she changed. She greeted him -with a friendly smile, she held out her hand to him, she -wished him good morning and good night and talked to him of -trivial, every day things, listening with interest to the few -remarks he made and that was all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she was a woman and he knew little of women, but -had read much and so had obtained a false impression. She -was clever, she was hiding her feelings and doing it -successfully. When the time came, and it would come, then -she would fling all pretence to the winds, she would be his, -he would open his arms to her, the ten years of hunger would -be ended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-night he sat in his corner and listened to everyone and -said little, but he was watchful and presently he saw Allan -go out and, waiting for a time, Scarsdale too rose and -sauntered to the window and stepped out into the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan, however, had not gone to the garden. He remembered -that Betty was going to her grandmother's to-night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would be sure to leave the old woman's cottage by -nine. He counted on that. He wanted to see her, he wanted -to see how she had taken what her grandmother would say -to her, he wanted to know that Betty would realise how -sensible the arrangement was and how it would be for her own -good and happiness in the long run. She was young, a mere -child, in some far away little village she would begin a new -life, unmolested by Abram Lestwick, the terror of his -presence and his pretensions removed for ever from her mind. -And far away amid new surroundings, she would surely -forget in time—perhaps not at once—yet in time, all those -strange happenings and that strange tie that had drawn -Betty and himself so closely together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan was not vain, he did not for one moment believe -that it was his own personality that had attracted Betty, or -that he himself—the man he was now, had ever awakened -any feelings of tenderness and love in that little heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the glamour, the strange mystery, the unsolvable -mystery, those visions that she—and he too—had seen, that -dimly uncertain memory of 'something' that had been, in -the buried and unknown past; it was that that had appealed -to her as of course it had appealed to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Allan lighted his pipe and strolled away down the -dusky road and strangely enough had not gone ten paces -before he was thinking of Kathleen, rather than of her he -had come to meet.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Hanson sat upright on her stiff old chair, her hands -were folded primly on her narrow lap, her eyes were fixed -in an unwavering stare on the closed door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was expecting Betty, she had been expecting the girl -for the past hour. For an hour Mrs. Hanson had sat there -listening for coming footsteps but hearing only the steady -persistent 'tick-tock' of the long cased clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During that hour Mrs. Hanson had been thinking, she -had been asking of herself questions, and as the minutes -passed the stern old face grew graver and grimmer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why should he be willing to give to Betty and herself -such a mort of money. Why should he be wishful of -sending Betty to some far off place. Why should Mr. Allan -Homewood interest himself in the very least with the future -of Betty Hanson at all?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Questions that Mrs. Hanson could not answer satisfactorily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very pleasant and outspoken young gentleman he du -seem—and yet——" Mrs. Hanson shook her head. "And -yet——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the long expected footsteps were sounding, there came -a tapping on the door. That in itself was unfamiliar. In -the old days Betty lifted the latch and came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty came to-night as a visitor, and Mrs. Hanson realised -the difference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in," she said, and rose stiffly to receive her visitor. -Betty came in nervously; she looked at her grandmother, -hesitated and then came forward and offered a soft cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will hev had your tea?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes grandmother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you be seated?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty sat down, her nervousness increasing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson stared at the childish pretty face, it was the -face of most perfect innocence, yet Mrs. Hanson looked with -eyes of suspicion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The weather be holding up," she remarked, she was a -woman who never came straight to the matter in hand, as -Betty well knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandmother 'ee sent for I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was like carrying the war into the enemy's camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True I did send for 'ee," Mrs. Hanson frowned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hev had from young Mr. Allan Homewood an offer with -which I be greatly surprised."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From—from——" the colour deepened in the pretty -cheeks, a fact that Mrs. Hanson's keen eyes did not miss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why pray should 'ee blush at the mention of the -gentleman's name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bean't blushing, grandmother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now 'ee be lying as well, Betty Hanson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty hung her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very distrustful and uneasy I be in my mind, very -distrustful. Betty Hanson, look me in the eye and answer me -this: what be there between 'ee and Mr. Allan Homewood?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! oh grandmother—there——" Betty was silent, she -pressed her hands against her breast. "Be-between I and -Mr. Homewood grandmother, what—what should there be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There should be nothing Miss, but there be! there be, I -see it. What be he to thee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, nothing, nothing. Oh grandmother, why do 'ee -worry I so? I wish—I wish—I hadn't come!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If so be as your mind were at rest and your conscience -clear, Betty Hanson, 'ee wouldn't hev said that! Now answer, -answer me and speak the truth for I be your dead father's -mother and your only living relative I be. What be -Mr. Allan Homewood to 'ee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing," the girl whispered, "he bain't nothing to -I—nothing, and if anyone hev told 'ee contrairywise he be a -liar!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The truth I will hev! nor shall 'ee leave this place——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson rose, she crossed the room to the door and turned -the ponderous key. "The truth will I hev before I shall allow -'ee to depart, what be Mr. Allan Homewood of Homewood -Manor House, to 'ee, Betty Hanson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty did not answer. She sat with bowed head, she wrung -and twisted her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I did see he—of nights of moonlight—nights in—in -the old garden," she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson bristled, she sat upright: "'Ee did see him of -nights in the old garden! Oh! shame on 'ee shame——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So this be the meaning of your perilous bad conduct, -slipping away out of the cottage of nights to—to meet—a -man, a man! Terribul deceitful and deceiving 'ee've been -all this while, terribul and shameful and perilous Betty -Hanson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twasn't a man I went to see," Betty cried, "Grandmother -'twere no man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No man and 'ee said with your own lips——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandmother, 'ee can never, never understand—it—were -a—a ghost——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson fell back on her chair, her black eyes blazed -in indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee've said enough, either 'ee be daft or the greatest liar -as I ever did hear on, a Ghost! 'ee wicked deceitful maid, a -ghost indeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandmother, 'ee could never, never understand. I'll try -and make 'ee, but I know——" Betty shook her head, "'ee -never will. 'Twasn't Allan——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan," Mrs. Hanson lifted her two hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Twasn't Allan, I did see in the old garden, but a ghost -I see him and others, fine ladies and gentlemen all in strange -clothing, Grandmother, and Allan he were for ever digging, -he in his old brown suit wi' the brass buckles to his shoes -and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty Hanson, stop, stop, this minit; not another word -will I sit here and listen to, I hev made up my mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This day, this man, this Allan, as 'ee do so shamelessly -call him, made an offer to me. A fine offer that I did greatly -mistrust. 'Tis this—take the child—away he said, take her -far away, don't worrit her wi' Abram Lestwick, and I will -allow 'ee and her tu, the thirty-five shillings a week, the same -as Abram's money and a cottage all for nothin' so as 'ee du -take she far away from Homewood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! oh! he said that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye he did, my maid, which du mean as he be tired of 'ee, -tired, 'ee hear me, tired as men du tire of women like 'ee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty lifted her head slowly, she looked at the grandmother -and her pretty face blazed with sudden anger. She rose:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandmother, 'ee be a wicked woman, a bad despiteful -wicked woman. What 'ee hev said, shames 'ee more, more -than it does me, shames 'ee, and—and——" she broke down -suddenly, she sank back sobbing on to the chair, she rocked -to and fro. "'Ee could never, never understand 'twasn't -Allan, yet 'twas Allan and I know he were something to I, -something very, very dear and precious he were to I. But -oh! oh! 'ee could never understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I du understand this," Mrs. Hanson said, "I do understand -that 'ee shall marry Abram Lestwick. An honest and -upright man, and 'ee shall never take money from him as -'ee du most shamelessly call Allan, never, nor I. Money -taken from he would choke me, 'twould spring up like the -tares and choke me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hanson pointed a bony finger at the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Ee shall marry Abram Lestwick a good man and honest, -'ee shall become his wife. I hev said it, and I say it again -and I shall listen to no more of this nonsense, and as for -Mr. Allan Homewood for all he be a frank and outspoken gentleman -and lib'ral wi' his money, I would take shame to myself -to accept of anything from he, nor allow 'ee to do likewise. -Marry Abram Lestwick 'ee shall——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never will," Betty leaped up, her face convulsed, "I -never will, I bain't your grand-darter any more, I bean't -nothing to 'ee, I wunt listen to 'ee! I wunt! I be free, -free—and——" she turned and darted to the door, she wrenched -at the heavy old key and turned it, just as Mrs. Hanson rose -and came stiffly to prevent her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Betty, younger and more active succeeded, she tore -the door open and in the open doorway turned:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bain't your grand-darter anymore! I be free of 'ee, -I wunt marry Abram Lestwick, I—I'll be—damned if I du."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop!" Mrs. Hanson said in a voice of thunder, but -Betty did not, she turned and fled into the night and the old -woman unable to pursue stood there shaking and quivering -with honest indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"De-fiant her be, perilous defiant and hev soiled her lips -wi' foul and unseemly words, her henceforth be no granddarter -of mine. From this moment I du renounce she."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sobbing, panting, her little heart labouring, down the -road sped Betty, and then suddenly she saw him coming, -slowly towards her, and to him she ran with eager -outstretched hands and a little cry of joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Allan, Allan be 'ee come to meet I? O Allan, I be -all upset and put about, I be——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty—why Betty child, what is it, what has—come," he -added as she clung to his hand sobbing like a broken hearted -child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be kind to me, be kind to me, for I be all broken hearted," -she pressed her tear-stained face against his sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, I be all broken hearted. Her be harsh and cruel -wi' me, and said—said things—things—Oh!" she pressed -her face tightly to his sleeve, to hide the hot flush of shame -that came to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush little girl, hush," he said, "don't cry, did your -grandmother tell you what I suggested about—about you and -her going away——?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She told me—she told me, and she said she wouldn't hev -it, she said that I must marry Abram."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You never shall, Betty, don't cry, I swear before Heaven -you never shall, trust me, rely on me in this, for rather than -that, I would kill the man, kill him with my two hands. -Betty, you hear me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye I hear 'ee; say it again Allan, say it over again, say -as 'ee would kill he, rather than I should marry he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean it, and it shall never be, and your grandmother -then will not agree to my plan. Well, it does not matter, you -will be perhaps happier without her, I shall find some place -where neither your grandmother nor Abram Lestwick will -trouble you, with people who will be good and kind to you -and will make your life happy. Your future shall be -protected, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me stay. Let me stay here, and bide with 'ee, don't, -don't send me away from 'ee Allan, don't 'ee send me away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush," he said. "Hush," he was bitterly disappointed, -he had thought all arranged, and now—but her pitiful crying -wrung his heart, poor little maid, poor dear little soul, he -put his arm about her and tried to soothe and quiet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, Betty, don't cry, don't cry, it hurts me to hear -you cry and child, try and understand how—how impossible -it all is. There is no other way, you yourself will see it and -understand it presently."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't send me away from 'ee for I shall die, I shall die -if 'ee do." She was nestling close to him, holding his hand -in both her own, pressing it against her wet cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Supposing someone should happen down the road and what -more likely—oh no, this would never do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Betty! Come, be brave, we must talk of this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not far away was the little green gate, and he drew her -towards it and in the deep shadows of the wall a man flattened -himself against the brickwork and held his breath as they -passed him so closely, that he might have stretched out his -hand and touched them as they went, a man who was shaking -strangely with passion and whose eyes gleamed from the -dark shadows. And then the little green door opened and -took them and Abram Lestwick stepped into the roadway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pleasant spoken," he said. "Aye, pleasant spoken he be. -Pleasant spoken!" He repeated the words a score of times, -he went to the green door and his hands worked with it. He -fingered the heavy old nail heads with which it was studded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very, very pleasant spoken he be—robbing me of -she—robbing—robbing——." He scratched at the paint with his -nails, then muttering to himself, turned away and went down -the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan led Betty into the garden, he led her along the path -between the tall yews and as they walked he spoke to her. -It was difficult, yet it must be done. His heart yearned to -her in pity—the spell of her, the fascination of her was on -him, but he fought against it—her childlike weeping set him -longing to take her in his arms, to comfort her, hold her, kiss -her tears away, for the weeping of women and of children -always affected him greatly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, don't cry, Betty listen to me. Be reasonable, be -sensible my dear, listen——."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"O Allan, oh sir, that you—that you of all should turn -against thy Betty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His Betty—what memories the words awakened, memories -of this same garden, of a little maid in quaint mob cap, with -pretty mittened hands and eyes all ashine with love—for -him—Thy Betty, that maid had said as she, by his side, had -said it but a moment ago—His Betty!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps the devil walked with them that night along the -path under the dark yews, perhaps he tapped Allan on the -shoulder and whispered in his ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan turned to her suddenly, he gripped her wrists, he -tore her hands away from her face, his voice was harsh, -as unlike his own voice as voice could be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen, you—you must—this—this cannot go on. What -the past held, God knows—yet whatever it held, it cannot and -shall not influence the future. I have a wife, I am bound in -honour to her, in honour to you, Betty. Hush, leave off -crying, you hear me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was frightened by the stern authority in his voice and -left off her whimpering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What I am doing, what I want to do is for your own sake, -and for mine because you are young and well nigh friendless -and very beautiful, because I too am young and—and afraid, -yes afraid—Betty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Allan, of—of me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes of you, and for you Betty, I want you to be happy -and, dear, I want happiness myself. This old garden, the -garden here about us has meant so much to us both, better -dear that you should go and never see it again, for then in -time you will forget, and the love you speak of is not real, -it cannot be real, it is born of dreams Betty and like a dream -it will pass."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—why when I du love——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know why, because I have a wife, because I love her -and honour her and would sooner cut off my hand than -cause her one moment of shame, of pain or unhappiness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent nearer to her, he could see her face glimmering -white so near to his, so tempting, yet he was not tempted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It means her happiness, do you know why—because—and -God knows that I speak without vanity, but very humbly, -because I believe that she loves me—how could I hurt her -through you, would you hurt her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would die for her!" She wrenched her hands free -from his, she stood before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I will think of all as 'ee have said to I, sir, and I—I -will try and bring myself to thy way of thinking and I—I -will try and bring myself to—oh no, no! I can't, I -can't!" She broke down, sobbing wildly, then suddenly gained -control of herself. "I will not—not trouble thee any more, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty, listen," he put his hands on her shoulders and -held her. "Take time, take time, think this over, to-day is -Monday, in three days, not before three days, you will make -up your mind, Betty, come to me—here in this place—in -three days—on Thursday night at this hour, come and tell -me then, child, that you will be wise and sensible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I will come to 'ee here in three days——" she said -slowly, "and then I will tell 'ee, sir, what I shall do,—in -three days—good night!" She turned away, standing there -he heard her go and heard a strange little moaning noise -coming back to him from out the darkness as she went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, after waiting a time, he too turned towards the house -and passed down the wide flagged pathway, and the man on -the stone bench by the sundial let him pass unchallenged.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="by-the-lake"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BY THE LAKE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lord Gowerhurst made an affecting little speech, -for the time of parting had come. Sir Josiah's big car, -all spick and span, with the respectable Bletsoe at the wheel, -was waiting outside the hall door, so too was Mr. Coombe's -automobile, which seemed to require some of its owner's -attention at the last moment, for Mr. Coombe was only visible -as to his legs and feet, the rest of him being out of sight -under his car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This visit, a trifling thing perhaps to you, my love, has -been to me like an oasis, a green and fragrant oasis be-gad, an -the desert of my life! I am leaving my dear, dear daughter——" -his lordship turned his fine eyes upwards and his -voice shook with noble emotion. "I am leaving my dear, -dear daughter surrounded by love and happiness, I am leaving -her in her pretty little home——." He spoke of the place -as though it were a cottage, to impress Messrs. Cutler and -Jobson with the idea of his own magnificence—"and I——" -he sighed, "I go back to my quiet humdrum life, my poor -chambers, my loneliness! Often and often as I sit alone in -my rooms, I shall picture you and this home of yours to -myself. I am an old man, an old man my dear, and my -time—may not be long——." He sighed deeply, there were tears -in those fine eyes of his. Kathleen was very patient, she knew -her father's love for these tender, meaningless speeches, -she bore with them as she bore with him, with a sweet -untiring patience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he had done at last, he had taken his place in Sir -Josiah's car, Sir Josiah was seated beside him, Mr. Coombe's -arrangements and re-arrangements were complete, his -oil-smeared countenance was beaming, "All aboard!" he cried. -"All aboard! You're coming with me this time, Cutler, eh? -We'll shew 'em the way, my boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, Allan, my lad, good-bye and thank 'ee, thank -'ee for a very happy time and good-bye, Lady Kathleen, and -thank you too for a time as I shan't forget in a hurry!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jobson tried to make a little speech, but broke down -through nervousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Kathleen saved him all embarrassment. "It's been -splendid having you and when you are gone I shall miss you -all terribly, terribly, and you must all promise to come again -soon, very soon, Mr. Jobson, and you Mr. Coombe, and you -Mr. Cutler!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just ask me, my Lady, just give me the chance, that's -all!" shouted Mr. Coombe—"Don't forget my telephone -number, City double three double five one four——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think, sir," said Bletsoe, "as we'd best let Mr. Coombe -get away with his little lot first, we won't want their dust all -the time, nor yet have him trying to pass us every two -minutes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite right!" said Sir Josiah. "Yes, by all means allow -Mr. Coombe to get away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall feel no personal grief if Mr. Coombe gets entirely -away!" said his lordship. He did not like motoring, but the -lift that Sir Josiah had offered him had been accepted. It -meant that he would not have to purchase a ticket to Town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye father, good-bye dear Sir Josiah!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen had clambered on to the running board of the -car like any young girl for a last kiss. His lordship -disapproved of exhibitions of affection before menials, he waved -a white hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, dear child!" But Sir Josiah was not to be -deprived of his kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all right, Bletsoe!" he said at last with a sigh, "I -think Mr. Coombe has got well away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had stayed late, would have stayed later, but for his -lordship's anxiety to be back in town. As it was, the sun -was near its setting, the sweet mellow glow of the evening -was on the earth, and the distances were purple against the -red and yellow sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They stood in the roadway, waving, Allan and Kathleen -and Scarsdale. She could have wished that he had gone with -them and mentally took herself to task for her lack of -hospitality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the white dust whirled up by the stout tyres of -Sir Josiah's car, blotted it out. It was gone and Kathleen -slipped her hand through Allan's arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale saw it. It was done so spontaneously, it seemed -so natural that it angered him, his face stiffened. She had -married the fellow for money, for nothing else, why did she -find it necessary to make such pretence with him? It was -mere acting, he knew that, yet he felt she over-acted the part -and she fell a little in his estimation, though his love for her -and desire of her was no less than before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man with bent head trudged past them down the road, he -lifted his hand to his hat and touched it as he went, yet -never gave them a glance. His hand, having reached his -hat, remained with it for some moments, his fingers fumbling -at the brim, then he was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was that?" Kathleen asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan hesitated for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A man named Lestwick—he is——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh I know, so that is the man, Allan! I can understand -that child's feeling, I don't like him, I don't like him, there -is something about him——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen's eyes followed the black figure down the road. -"I don't know why," she said, "it may be unjust and probably -is, but I—I seemed to feel a chill, a sense of dislike, of -distaste as he passed us by!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor wretch, he is to be pitied since Kathleen dislikes -him!" Scarsdale said and a note of irony and sarcasm crept -into his voice, which she detected in a moment and her -cheeks flushed a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry," she said gently, "I may be mistaken, I hope -I am, one is often mistaken in one's likes and dislikes, it is -not well to trust too much to instinct!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did she mean?" Scarsdale wondered, but he said -nothing and they went back into the house, the house that -seemed strangely deserted and silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the friends, whose pleasant voices have sounded in -the rooms, have gone their ways, like them much or little as -we may, there is always a sense of loneliness and desertion -about the place. Who can tell if the hospitable door will ever -open to them again? Noisy Mr. Coombe and embarrassed -Mr. Jobson—we have no great affection for them perhaps, -yet because they were here a while ago and the place seems -empty without them, we can spare them a passing regret, we -can admit to ourselves that we miss them just a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will find it a little dull now, I am afraid Harold," -Kathleen said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not find it dull here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dull——" when she was near, perhaps that was what his -words meant to convey, but Allan, who heard them, noticed no -double meaning, no particular tenderness underlying the -words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan must neglect Mr. Custance a little now and give -you more of his time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you say that then you will make me feel that I am not -wanted. I should hate to think that you regard me as a -person who must be entertained. If I thought that my -presence here, Homewood, made the very smallest difference to -your arrangements, then I should want to leave you at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I hope that you won't think of leaving for a long -while to come," said Allan heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you must—must give him a little more time, Allan," -Kathleen said presently. "He is your guest——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But your old friend, dear, you and he have far more to -talk about than he and I could have! You have the past to -dig in!" He smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The past—how little he knew! Her heart smote her. She -ought to have told him and yet, after all, how little was there -to tell? The man she had loved had come back and she had -discovered that she had lived in a fool's paradise, that she had -not loved the man, but rather had loved her love for him, had -idealised it and had made of it the sweetest, holiest and best -thing in her life. And now at last with eyes open and clear, -she could see that her gold had been tinsel after all, her -flowers so fresh and glorious and beautiful had been but poor -counterfeits of paper or coloured rag, the hero so noble, so -brave, so unselfish and splendid, whose image she had -enshrined in her heart was after all but a very ordinary man, -very weak and selfish and lacking all those fine qualities with -which in her heart she had endowed her childhood's knight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the guests were gone, all but Harold Scarsdale—and -how she wished that he too had gone with the others—She -and Allan were alone and the time had come to tell him -that wonderful news!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And because the time had come, there came to Kathleen a -thousand fears. There came too a strange sense of modesty, -a shrinking that would not be there if only he loved her. If -only he loved her—would he be glad, glad and proud, or -would he be sorry and disappointed, worst of all perhaps he -would be indifferent! And that would be the hardest, the -cruelest thing of all to bear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet she must tell him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-night, yes to-night, and yet when to-night came -she—coward-like—put it off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow," she said, "I will tell him in the sunshine in -the garden, so that I may watch his face and know—know -without spoken words what his thoughts and feelings -are——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So to-night she lay sleepless beside him, torturing herself -with those fears that come to a woman who loves, torturing -herself till at last her nerves were all unstrung and she could -lie here no longer. So she rose softly, not to waken him, -and went to the window and stared out into the glory of the -brilliant night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Somewhere far away was her father, probably playing -cards in his Club or billiards. How idle were those fine -sentimental touching speeches of his, how little she believed in -them! She drew her thoughts away from her father, they -followed old Sir Josiah instead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How fine and good and noble he was, how sincere and honest! -And what he was, she knew that Allan was too, generous -and honourable, kind of heart, true—true as steel! What -wonder then that she should love him, that her love for him -should awaken—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her thoughts were interrupted, from the dark shadows in -the garden below there came in the stillness of the night a -little moaning, sobbing cry. Kathleen was startled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was a woman and therefore not without superstition, -what good, honest, tender woman has not some trace of -superstition in her mind? Just for a moment Kathleen held -her breath and listened intently. Again she heard the sound -and at the same time a light footfall and then, watching, she -saw a little figure come creeping from out the shadows into -the white path of the moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty—she knew the child in an instant—Betty out at this -hour, Betty in some sore trouble, crying to herself! She had -a mind to call softly to the girl, yet did not, for fear of -waking him. So she sat for a moment or so and watched the -girl go slowly down the paved pathway and then Kathleen -made up her mind. She rose, she thrust her white feet into -slippers, she threw a dressing gown on and went creeping -down the silent stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Softly she drew back a bolt and turned a key and opened -a door that gave on to the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The radiant light of the moon flooded the place, all save -under the tall yews, where the shadows lay blackly. But of -the girl she could see nothing, yet had noted the way she had -gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like a ghost herself, a very lovely spirit all in white, her -little woollen slippers making never a sound on the old flagged -pavement, she sped on her way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moaning sobbing cry had awakened every sympathy in -her heart, she was filled with womanly tenderness and pity. -"Poor child, poor pretty child!" she thought and so hurried -on, looking eagerly for the little lonely figure. Then -presently Kathleen paused, she stood still, she had meant to -call softly to Betty, yet did not, for she heard the moaning -and crying near at hand now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Afraid—oh afraid—terribul, terribul afraid I be!" the -broken voice whispered. "But I must. Oh, I must, I hev -made up my mind to it and I must!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Half a dozen noiseless steps and Kathleen saw her. The -girl stood on the brink of the pool, her hands clasped over -her breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Afraid, oh terribul, terribul afraid I be!" she whispered -and repeated the words again and again. Then she thrust out -one bare foot and touched the inky water with it and drew -back with a low cry of fear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I must, I must, 'tis all there be left for I to du now! -I must, for he does not want me and I can't, oh I can't -du what he wishes me, so I must!—I—I be coming to 'ee my -little stone maid, perhaps 'ee always knowed as I would come -to 'ee one day—I be coming now, I be coming now! It seems -as 'ee always meant something to me, little stone maid standing -there, seems to me now as 'ee always called to me to come -and I be coming now—now——" She stretched out her -hands and suddenly uttered a stifled shriek for she felt strong -tender arms about her, felt herself dragged back from the -water's edge and then all in a moment she was sobbing out -her breaking heart on Kathleen's breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For many minutes Kathleen let the girl weep on unrestrainedly, -for she knew it for the better way. Let her shed -her tears, since she could, and when they were passed the little -troubled heart would be all the easier for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with Kathleen's arms about her, Betty wept softly, -clinging to the other woman as to one to whom she looked -for love and help and protection and did not look in vain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then, little by little, Kathleen drew her away from the -pool, drew her presently to the stone bench beside the -sundial and made her sit beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why Betty, why were you going to do that—that wicked -thing?" Kathleen whispered. "No, child, keep your face -against my breast, tell me while I hold you! You are safe -with me, little Betty, you know that, child, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh safe—safe wi' 'ee, safe wi' 'ee!" the girl moaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you wish to do that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There were nothing left for I to du. Oh I didn't want -to, for I were afraid, most terribul afraid—I were, but—but -it seemed I must, 'twas as if the little stone maid were calling -to I, just—just as she used to call to I of moonlight nights -when I were in my grandmother's cottage, but—but 'twas -different then—then I had not seen him, only—only in my -dreams!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Seen him?" Kathleen asked softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan!" the girl said simply and for the moment seemed -to forget that it was Allan's wife who held her in her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did see him here, here in the old garden, long, long -before he came here to live, many times I saw him digging at -they flower beds, him all in brown wi' queer brass buckles to -his shoes, and his hat all dragged down over his face, strange -that I scarce did ever see his face, and yet—yet I knew him -and when I came to him here in the garden while he sat on -this very bench I knew—oh my lady, what be I saying, -what be I saying?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Kathleen did not answer. It had come to her with a -sudden shock, a feeling of desolation, of hopelessness. Allan, -her husband, and this little maid, this Betty and the old -garden! She remembered the dream of which he had told her, -that night in a London theatre. It was but a dream then, a -picture out of the past and nothing more and since then it -had become reality and yet he had not told her as he had -promised!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I du love him so—so cruel!" the girl sobbed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never once while she listened to this confession did Kathleen's -arms relax their hold on the sobbing girl, yet Kathleen's -heart was being tortured and wounded by every word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Allan, her husband, whom she had regarded as the soul of -honour—could it be—Allan into whose ears she had intended -to pour this wonderful secret, this secret of a little life yet -to be, which belonged to him and to her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh my lady, I be so terribul unhappy!" Betty whimpered, -"So terribul unhappy for I did think he loved me as I loved -him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And—did he not—love you?" Kathleen whispered and -wondered at her own voice, for it trembled so strangely, it -was so filled with eagerness, with fear and yet with hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was mine—mine!" the girl said passionately. "For -'twas he I saw here in this old garden many, many times—and -I knew him, my lady, and yet—yet when I would have -felt his kisses on my lips, he held away from me—and oh -I be all broken hearted, I be, and now he be set against me -and wishful of my going away for ever, but I can't, I can't, I -would sooner die! And that night here—here my lady, in -the garden, he was all stern and angry wi' I! He told me -that I must go, that it would be for my good and that I should -be happy and—and he told me my lady as he was afraid of I, -afraid—they were his very words!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God he was afraid!" Kathleen thought. "Thank -God for his fears, for they did him honour. Oh I was -wrong, he is all I thought him, all I believed him, even -better, stronger, braver, thank God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he told me," Betty went on in her low sobbing voice, -"that I were to come to him here in the garden in three -nights, 'twere Monday then and to-morrow night I be to see -him here and tell him what I will do—if—if I will go far, -far away and be wise and sensible—but I can't—I can't -'twould break my heart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will not dear," Kathleen said. "It will not, Betty!" Her -arm tightened about the girl, she was such a child, did -not her very confession prove it? "It seems very hard to bear -now Betty, but you must be brave and good and sensible, it -will be far, far better that you do not see Allan, my -husband, again, for it is not for your happiness to see him. I do -not understand, Betty, nor do I think that even you and he -understand, it is all so strange—so—so unusual! But I shall -send you away——" she paused. It was so easy to say "I -will send you away," yet where could she send the child? -For a moment she pondered and then it came to her like a -flash of inspiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall go away Betty quietly and no one need know -of your going and to-morrow I will tell him that you are -gone and that you and he will not meet again. You will be -happy, very happy with those to whom I shall send you. -Will you trust me, Betty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust 'ee——." The girl caught her hand and kissed it -passionately. "And—and bain't I to see him again, never?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will be better not, Betty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty leaned against her sobbing—"I du love him——" -she sobbed, "and it will be terribul to go and never see him -again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Had you thrown yourself into the water to-night you -would never have seen him again and you would have caused -him grief and sorrow, Betty, so—so dear it is better you -should go quietly, and live and be happy, for you will be -happy, child and you will forget! You are only a child, -Betty, and—and I—I know what a child's love means, it is -seldom the real love—it will pass, for such love does pass, I -know, Betty! And then—then one day the real love, the love -of all your life will come to you and you will look back on -these memories and smile at them and when that day comes, -Betty——" Kathleen's voice shook a little, "then—then, -child, go down on your knees and thank God that you gave -your child's love to a good and noble man, a man who -respected it—and you—and—and was afraid—dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Betty, if she did not understand, was comforted by the -kind voice and nestled closer to Kathleen. She dried her -tears and presently had forgotten them and was smiling, and -the little tragedy was past.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-going-of-betty"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE GOING OF BETTY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I want, dear Sir Josiah, to feel that the child is happy -and well cared for, her life here has not been a very -happy one, her grandmother was trying to force her into -marriage with a man she hated, a man I myself feel instinctive -mistrust of. I send her to you because I know of no one so -kind, so good, so generous. I know that you will do all you -can for her. I do not wish her, and I do not think she herself -wishes ever to come back to Homewood again. She will be -happier away from the place and so, dear kind friend, to -whom I seem to turn instinctively in any moment of doubt -and anxiety, I leave her in your hands, knowing that all you -may do for her will be right and for the child's own good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen had written the letter to Sir Josiah, she herself -had helped to pack Betty's little box, she had taken the -dependable and uncommunicative Howard into her confidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your ladyship desires me to see the young woman and her -box safe to Sir Josiah's London house?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what I wish, Howard, and I wish her going to be -kept secret, I don't want others to know, it may be difficult, -but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It can quite easily be arranged, my lady, no difficulty at -all. I'll have the closed cab from the village and if your -ladyship will be so good as to inform the young person she is to -walk quietly out of the house and to take the Bursdon Road, -I will direct the driver to take that way, my lady, and pick -her up and take her on to Bursdon station and catch the -three thirty-five for London. It will be right if the young -person was to start at say half past two. As for her box, -my lady, I'll manage it, so that no one sees it—anything else, -my lady?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, Howard, and I thank you very much, you are -very, very helpful," Kathleen said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just before the half hour after two, Betty sobbing as -though her heart was breaking, was in Kathleen's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh my lady, it be cruel hard to have to go and leave it -all, when I du love it so and——" she paused and sobbed -aloud with many a catch of the breath, as a child does.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Kathleen felt as she kissed and comforted the girl that -tears so easily shed might be just as easily dried, and to -prove that she was right, in a little while Betty began to dry -her eyes and shew interest in her destination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To think that I be actually going to London, my lady, a -terribul long way it be and I always wishful of seeing it, -though I never—never——" and then a fresh torrent of tears -and sighs and cries, tears which Kathleen wiped away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will be very happy, Betty, and life will be full of -interest for you. London is a wonderful place, you cannot -think how marvellous the shops are. Streets and streets of -them, Betty—and the people and the cars and carriages——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty listened, wide eyed, forgetting her grief again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And there be theayters, my lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Many of them and you shall go and see them, Betty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl was actually smiling now and then suddenly, -remembering her sorrow, she began to cry again. But Kathleen -felt no fears. The girl was genuine and sincere enough, -transparently honest, but she was not of those who die of -broken hearts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you will be a good brave girl, you know dear that -you must go because it will be kinder to—to him—to me and -to yourself. You are going to someone whom I love very -much and who will be kind to you, not only because I have -asked him to be and for your own sake too, but because he is -kindness itself. You know, Betty, that you must go, don't -you? You know, child, that it is not possible that you could -stay on here, and—and Betty, you are going somewhere where -you will never see Abram Lestwick, you will be safe from him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betty nodded, she even smiled. "Terribul put about and -angry will Abram be when he finds I be gone and -grandmother, her too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was mischief and even enjoyment in her smile and -Kathleen's heart felt eased and at peace. She wanted to -play no hard and cruel part in this little drama, she did not -want the girl to go broken hearted and unhappy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now—now Betty, it is time," she said, "time, dear, -for you to go, you—you quite understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—oh my lady!" And once more Betty was all tears, -the tears rained down her face and suddenly she rushed to -Kathleen who held out her arms to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, my dear, good-bye and God bless you and bring -you to happiness." Kathleen strained her in her arms, held -her tightly for a moment and then let her go and her own -eyes were not dry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently Betty, in her neat little black gown, opened the -arched green gate for the last time, and of habit peered up -and down the road, half fearfully, lest someone might be -there waiting for her. But there was no sign of Abram -Lestwick. In the distance she could see the blue smoke -curling from the chimney of her grandmother's cottage and at -the sight the tears were gone and the pretty face grew a trifle -hard, even a little bitter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now we shall see if I be going to marry Abram -Lestwick, grandmother," she thought, "terribul obstinate I be, -yes and contrairy and a perilous bad maid, but Abram will -hev to look for someone else—'Lizbeth Colley, who due bake -such wonderful fine currant biscuits."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed softly a little laugh of triumph, mingled with -grief and then—then she stepped out into the white roadway -and pulled the gate after her. She looked along the high wall -of old red brick, over which she had clambered—bad, perilous -bad maid that she was—many a time. The wall was topped -now with glittering glass and seeing it the tears all came back -with a rush and sobs broke from the labouring, childish breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Broken hearted I be——" she wailed, "broken hearted -and wishful of dying—oh—oh never never to see him again, -never!" She looked back along the road and could see her -grandmother's cottage. She pictured to herself her -grandmother, that stern, unbending woman, sitting in her stiff, -high backed chair—waiting—waiting for her, waiting to -have her will with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the thought of the old woman sitting there waiting -and waiting all in vain banished the tears from the bright -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She said that I was bad and that I must go and—and so -I be going for good—going to London. Powerful 'quisitive -I be to see what London looks like, bigger than Stretton it be, -wi' streets of shops and theayters and oh!" Her eyes shone, -the grief was forgotten, she was hurrying on her way down -the road now. The red wall had ceased to be and it -seemed as though the enchantment of the old garden that it -protected was lifted, for the girl was smiling and her eyes -were bright with anticipation as she hastened on her way, -and never once did she look behind her now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A child's love!" Kathleen thought, "a child's love, very -real, very wonderful, with such power to bring grief or joy -and yet after all only a child's love—mine lasted for ten -long years and—and then it passed—Little Betty's, how long -will hers last? Ten days, ten hours perhaps—not longer—poor, -pretty, shallow little Betty, yet so lovable—and he, my -darling, my Allan was afraid—afraid of her for a time—yes -thank God afraid—and told her so nobly and bravely." She -smiled at her thoughts and Scarsdale, looking at her, -wondered what made her smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you thinking of Kathleen?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of my husband," she said gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale turned away, he looked out into the garden. -Should he stay, was there still room for hope? Was she -acting a part as he believed and hoped, or did it mean that she -had ceased to care, that what she had told him there beside the -pool was true, that her love for him had died? Yet it might -not be dead, only slumbering for a while, when she found, as -she would find, that Homewood was untrue to her, that of -nights he was meeting a girl, a servant maid in the garden, -that he loved that girl, what then? Would she not come back -to him, eager for his love and sympathy and protection? He -hoped so and believed so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will wait a while yet," he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They missed the guests of the past few days, these three, -as they sat down to dinner in the dining room. They missed -Sir Josiah, they missed noisy genial Mr. Coombe, even they -missed his lordship, for on these three a silence had fallen -and each was busy with his own thoughts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To-night Betty would tell him, thought Allan, she would -tell him that she had decided to be, as he had said, sensible -and wise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-night," Kathleen thought, "to-night she would tell -him all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Scarsdale's thoughts were the same. Would she come -to him if she might come in honour, if the dishonour fell on -other shoulders? He believed it and hoped it and would hope -it till the last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen watched Allan that evening, watched him and -saw the worried anxious look on his face. She knew that he -was planning to meet Betty, yet surely never a lover went to -meet his love with such a look on his face as Allan's wore -this night? No, he did not love her, he was anxious and -troubled about her, about the girl herself and her future -and presently he should know that all was well, that Betty -was gone and would be happy and cared for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when the darkness had fallen completely, she rose and -went up to her own room and changed from the light dinner -dress she had been wearing into a plain dark frock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will he be glad and proud, or will he be sorry?" she -asked herself. Glad and proud—please God he would be -glad and proud! And if it brought gladness and pride to -him, what then? might it not bring love also, the love she -hungered for, the love her heart craved?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon was late rising to-night. There was no light -save the dim faint light of the stars. Somewhere among -the tall trees an owl was making its plaintive cry. Kathleen -shivered a little at the sound, it seemed almost like an ill -omen. She knew where he would be waiting and then presently -in the deep dark shadows under the high old yew hedge -she found him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heard the light footfall, he heard the rustle of her -dress and made no doubt that it was Betty, for who else -would come to him here in this place?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Betty!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not answer him, she stood still, then hesitatingly -came forward towards him. But he offered her no greeting, -he did not hold out his hands to her. He seemed even to -turn away from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen," he said, and did not even look towards her. "I -have given you time to think, to realise that what I hope -to arrange for you is all—all for your good. What I said to -you that night was true—Betty we do not and we should not -know what the past held for us, that we do know, something -of it has only brought us unhappiness and heartache. -But the past is past, Betty, it belonged to another life, -another generation and we who stand here to-night have to deal -only with the present and even more with the future."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen stood listening, her hands pressed against her -breast. Was she wrong to listen to him, knowing that his -words were meant for other ears? If he but turned to her -now he might see, dim though the light, that it was not the -little country girl that he was talking to.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet he did not look at her once, but rather at the ground, -or away into the blue black distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have told me that you loved me, you have asked me -for my love, forgetting or not knowing, dear, that I could not -give you that love with honour. Could I feel such love for -you it would but dishonour you, dishonour myself—and—and -her, Betty, her." His voice shook for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once you came to me in a strange vision, a vision out of -the long buried past. I was heartwhole then—and it seemed -to me that some tie, some link forged in another life, another -existence held us together, that vision was very wonderful -and very sweet to me, it lived in my memory for many and -many a long day and then—then it faded, Betty, it faded—and -the link that was forged in the past was snapped and -broken." He was silent for a moment and then went on -in a lower voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It ended because something came into my life to end it, -a greater love, something that was not born of visions and -fancies and fancied memories. That love, Betty, is the -most wonderful, the most beautiful thing that has ever come -to me. It meant my salvation, dear, and yours, it meant -protection for you and for me. For loving her, loving -her——" his voice rose, "loving my own wife with all my -soul——."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allan, my Allan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to her with a choking cry, he peered into her -face through the darkness, and then he took her hands and -held them, drawing her closer to him till he had clasped her -hands against his breast, and all the time he looked into the -face that was uplifted to his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who needs you, even as you—you love her, Allan, who -has come to tell you, dear, that she knows all and honours -you and respects you and loves you with all her heart and -soul and is—is proud of you—proud! I sent her away, dear, -not in anger, but in love. Poor child, I sent her away all -tears that—that I think will soon be dried and to-night I -came here to tell you this—to tell you this and—and——" -She drew even closer to him and he put his arms about her -and held her tightly, "to tell you, my husband——" and her -voice was so soft, so low that he could hear, yet only just -hear—"to tell you that God is sending into our lives -something to make us happier and perhaps better, something that -will belong to us both, something for us to share and to love -alike, something that will draw us nearer, closer together and -hold us together all our lives. Allan, my husband, why don't -you speak to me? Allan, are you glad or sorry, dear? Oh -Allan!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For suddenly, even while he still held her in his arms, he -slipped down on his knees before her and tried to tell her of -the pride, the joy and the gladness that he felt and yet could -tell her nothing, save that he loved her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beautiful and wonderful, wonderful above all women, -more angel than woman to him, now as always.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are giving so much, so much, my Kathleen, but you -cannot give me all your heart, for I know that in the past -there was someone——."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Someone who came back," she said, "who came back, -Allan, and when I saw him and listened to him again, I knew, -oh I knew that, my love was never love at all—I think it was -less love than a religion with me. Allan, don't you -understand? He is nothing to me—no more than any other -stranger, any guest who might sleep beneath our roof, for -the love, the great love of my life I give, my husband, to -you—now and always!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the pent up love and longing, the hunger of the -time of waiting found expression. She stooped to him, she -put her arms about him, she drew his head to her breast and -held him closely, a radiant joy in her heart, knowing him -to be what he was, worthy, well worthy of all her love, -knowing him to be simple and brave, strong and tender, and -even though brave, still afraid, afraid of temptation and his -man's weakness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she held him and blessed him and her heart was filled -with a great love and gratitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Faint though the starlight was, yet the watcher away -among the shadows could see them indistinctly and seeing -them fell naturally into error. For how should he dream -that it was husband and wife he spied on? He watched them -presently move slowly away, the man with his arm about the -woman, she with her head against his shoulder, and the man -waiting in the darkness smiled, wondering how long would -this last, how long before Kathleen knew?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched them till they were gone, swallowed up in the -soft darkness, and then he moved, he turned slowly towards -the house. The vigil was over, but he frowned in thought. -How should Kathleen know, how could she be made aware of -this? And then—he heard a sound, the soft pad of a foot -behind him and had no time to turn for even as he would -have swung round, something leaped upon him and clung to -him. A hand gifted with a curious strength sought for and -found his throat, and finding it gripped and gripped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He fought, struggling madly, he tried to tear away that -terrible hold, yet it was like trying to unbend bars of steel. -He fought at those gripping, clinging fingers till his brain -grew dazed, till the dark night swam about him. He could -feel on his neck the hot quick breathing of his enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hoarse scream, a shriek that ended in a choking, gasping -sob broke from the strangling throat, a scream of agony -and of terror. For he, brave man though he was, felt a mad, -horrible fear of the silent, the unseen thing that was seeking -to rob him of his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen threw up her head. "Allan, Allan darling, did -you hear? Hush, listen, what was that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a screech owl beloved, and oh my Kathleen, to hear -you call me——" he paused and was silent, for there came a -repetition of the sound, but this time fainter, the strangling -cry of a man in agony, hoarse despairing, spent and gasping, -ending in sudden silence, followed by the sound of a fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen go, run to the house, there is something -wrong—send help!" And then he turned and dashed into the -darkness, in the direction whence came the sound. Scarsdale -was down, he lay face downward on the stone paving and with -his last strength, his last effort was seeking to unlock those -fingers from his throat, but his movements were weakening, -the man was done, as near to death as a man can be and yet -still live, and on his back there crouched a figure, the figure of -a small mean man, whose wondrous strength was all contained -in those hooked fingers that were choking the life out -of the jerking, labouring body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pleasant spoken 'ee be—aye wonderful pleasant spoken -'ee du be!" The creature was chuckling, was laughing, his -eyes seemed to burn with strange fires.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonderful pleasant spoken 'ee be—but never again, never -again will 'ee cheat a man of his maid, never again! Stole -her from me, lied her away from me!—Oh wonderful -pleasant spoken 'ee be——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was death that was come on him now, and he knew it, -the death he had defied—for so long—in savage places. -Strange that it should come to him here at last in this -peaceful old garden. Death—the world was swimming about -him—he seemed to see Kathleen's face, the fighting hands were -grown powerless and never for a moment did that grip on -his throat relax.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh wonderful, powerful pleasant spoken 'ee be——" -chuckled the voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the man was torn from his victim, dragged from -him and flung violently to the stone pavement. Kathleen had -run screaming to the house, the servants were alarmed, -Howard, prompt and efficient, came hurrying with lighted lamp; -others followed, Kathleen with them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's Scarsdale—been attacked—he's fainted—lift him, -some of you, carry him in—stop that man, stop him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Abram Lestwick had risen, he stood there for a moment, -then turned to fly, but suddenly stood still, as the -lamp-light stone for a moment on Allan's face. Lestwick peered -at him. His hands rose to his own throat, fumbled with it, -tore at his collar till they tore it loose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless I if it bain't Abram Lestwick!" said a voice, the -voice belonged to old Markabee, "Abram Lestwick it du be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aye, it be me!" Lestwick said, he spoke dully, still -fumbling at his throat, his eyes wandered from the figure of -the man they were lifting, to Allan's face clear in the -lamp-light, eyes from which all the fire and passion had died out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had made a mistake, his slow brain was grasping the -fact—a mistake—why should he have made a mistake? -Surely it had been the right man, had he not climbed the -wall and waited and seen a man with a woman and that -woman Betty—who else could it have been? And then—then—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A terribul strong intentioned man I be!" Abram muttered. -"Terribul passionate and quick——" His eyes roved -round restlessly, he still worked at his frayed and torn -collar. "I must be going, time be getting on, very late it be -growing, I've stayed too long!" He would have turned, but -old Markabee faced him resolutely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stir from here, 'ee don't, Abram Lestwick, after what 'ee -hev done!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One sweep of his arm would have felled Markabee and left -the way clear for him to depart, yet Abram Lestwick never -thought of that—he stood still, silent, submissive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His dull brain refused to answer the question that he would -have put to it. A mistake—how had he come to make a -mistake—another man—what other man could it be? Had he -not seen his enemy standing erect, unhurt, the lamplight on -his face?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It be past, all past my understanding——" Abram Lestwick -muttered. "All misty and dizzy it du seem to I—all -misty and dizzy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had carried the victim into the house, now they came -back for Lestwick, they took him and bound his hands -behind his back, those terrible, those death dealing hands, and -he submitted without a word, without a struggle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sullenly and with bent head, he shambled along between -his captors. They took him into the house, into the light, -he stood with bent head, then slowly lifted it, his restless eyes -roamed the room, they fell on Kathleen's white face for a -moment, then strayed away again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man was muttering to himself, they bent near to listen, -yet could make but little of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wonderful pleasant spoken he be——" he said, and said -it again and yet again, a score of times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Markabee, tremulous, but staunch, gripping a Dutch -hoe, stood on guard. "I du remember," he said, "aye I du -remember his mother, my Lady, and it be the same wi' Abram -as it were wi' she—strange she were always, terribul strange -and they du say aye I have heard it said as her did die in -the madhouse!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kathleen drew back, but the horror died out of her face -and in its place there came pity, a great pity for this stricken -wretch, the dull eyes rested for a moment on her face, then -sank to the ground, his fingers were picking at the rope that -bound his wrists together, but not with any intention of picking -himself free, just for the sake of picking and fraying and -tearing the cords, that was all.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-shall-return"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"I SHALL RETURN"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Kathleen—Kathleen——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Harold, here beside you." She touched his -cheek with her fingers. "You are easier now, better?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With you beside me, yes." He lifted his hand slowly to -the bandaged throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was—Homewood—Allan Homewood who—saved—who -dragged that man off me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it was Allan, we heard your cry for help, he and I, -we were together in the garden and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—you and he—you and he in the garden?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We had been talking in the yew walk, we were returning -to the house and then we heard——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said nothing, his face twisted a little, as with pain, -then it passed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The man, Abram Lestwick was mad, quite mad, Harold. -He made no effort to get away, he was docile and quiet, dazed -and stupid. They took him before the magistrates the next -day, but the doctors certified at once, he will not have his -liberty again, poor creature, they say he is a homicidal -maniac. Yet why—why should he have come creeping into -the garden that night, why should he have attacked you, -Harold, you a stranger to him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it seemed that he was not listening, as though what -she said had no interest for him. He lay looking at her, -thinking—It was she—she in the garden with Homewood -that night, she walking with Homewood, his arm about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw it all again, in memory, as he had seen it that night -in reality, the man and the woman walking as lovers walk, -the man's arm about the woman, her head against his -shoulder—and it was Homewood and Kathleen, the husband and the -wife—and he had thought—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The doctor tells me that I shall mend soon, that I shall -soon be my own man again, Kathleen, and then," he smiled, -"then I shall go back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Need you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not answer the question. "You know why I came, -what hopes I had. It was folly and the hopes are over and -ended and dead—so I shall go back alone as I came. There -is nothing to remain for—nothing." His hand sought hers -and she put hers into it. He held it for a time and then let -it go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So I shall go back," he said again, and said it quietly -and with a fixity of purpose that she knew would never be -changed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes, filled with pity, looked down on him. Yet she -knew, better that he went back, better that in the years to -come they should never meet again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her heart ached for him, but not for herself. And then -the door opened and Allan came softly to the bedside and -looked down at the invalid and standing beside Kathleen -his arm went round her and he never knew what suffering -it meant to the man lying there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen has told you about Lestwick, Scarsdale? The -poor wretch is hopelessly insane. There was no reason for -his act, there could be none. It has all been horrible, you -can imagine what our feelings have been that you, our -guest, our friend——" very kind was Allan's smile as he -looked down on the man who would have been his enemy, -"should have to bear this. But thank God it is no worse than -it is. You will be a well man again soon, Scarsdale, and then -you will stay on and rest here, Kathleen will be your -nurse——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are good, but I shall leave you as soon as I may, -for I am going back to the place I came from, Homewood, -going back soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going back? I remember that you told me once you -hoped——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarsdale smiled faintly. "I hoped—but that is over, I -had hope, but not now. There is nothing to hold me to -England. I am a stranger in a strange land, I shall be better -out there among the people who know me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you sure—sure that there is no hope for you, Scarsdale?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Scarsdale smiled. "There never was," he said. -"Yet I did not realise it, would not understand it—but -there was never any hope for me, so—so I shall go, thanking -my good friends for their care of me, thanking them and -blessing them——" As he spoke he looked up at Kathleen -and Allan watching saw the yearning, the hunger, the love -that the lips could not utter, and then suddenly he -understood that this was the man!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, even understanding, he stooped and touched the -other's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remember, if you will stay, my wife and I will be glad—we -would have you stay as long as you can—Scarsdale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They turned away, went out of the room together, and then -when the door had closed on them, he turned to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kathleen, I remember that night you told me that you -had met the man again—it was he."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He came back," she said, "he came back and I knew it -meant nothing to me. It was a dream, as yours was dear, -and it passed, as yours did, my Allan and so—so——" she -held up her arms and put them about his neck and lifted her -face to his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I meant to tell you—at first and then—then I forgot, yes -forgot, Allan—because of something of which I wanted to -tell you far, far more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," he said, he put his arms about her and held her -closely. "Something that has made me the happiest and -proudest man in all the world, beloved."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A winter and a spring had passed and the garden at -Homewood was blooming with a loveliness that it had not -been able to attain last summer. Old Markabee, bearing the -weight of yet one more year on his round shoulders, was -snipping at the ivy covered wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pernicious thing be ivy, sir," he said, "a terribul -pernicious thing, eating away the very wall as du support it, -tearing it away bit by bit, ruining it, sir, it du—with them -terribul little clinging fingers it hev got, workin' and workin' -till the old wall be crumbled quite and ready to fall, a most -terribul pernicious thing ivy be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes to be sure, but hush my good man, not—not so -loudly if you please——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Markabee turned contritely, "I bain't gone and woke he -wi' my chatter?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, he is still sound asleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah rose from the stone bench, he peered under -the holland awning over the perambulator.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His reign was but short and presently nurse would come -and demand of him, her charge. It was a great favour that -she did him, leaving him here in charge of the slumbering -infant, there was no one else nurse would trust, but she knew -that she might Sir Josiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may look at him, Markabee, if you like, did you ever -see a healthier looking child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Markabee poked his brown face under the awning, holding -his breath the while. Not till he was safely away did he trust -himself with speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wunnerful child he be," he said. "And so powerful -strong he du look."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you say, Markabee?" Sir Josiah enquired -anxiously, "is the child like his mother or his father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bit like both," said Markabee. "And wi' a look, aye -now I du see it quite plain, a look of his grandfather tu, he -hev got."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't say so!" said Sir Josiah. "You don't say -so—well bless my heart!" His round red face beamed and -Markabee, cunning old sinner, chuckled behind his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That ought to be good enough for half a suvereign for I," -he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now came nurse to take possession of her charge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He hasn't awakened, Sir Josiah, has he?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bless you my dear, no, not moved, he hasn't," Sir Josiah -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled. "I always feel I can trust you with him at -any rate, Sir Josiah."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A good woman that, a sensible woman, couldn't have -found a better," Sir Josiah said as nurse wheeled the baby -carriage away. "And you were saying just now, Markabee?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I were saying a terribul pernicious thing is this ivy -working with its little fingers on they old walls as du support -it, tearing and tearing, wonderful like the fingers of Abram -Lestwick's, I du remember."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah poor fellow!" said Sir Josiah.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mad!" said Markabee, "like his mother were afore -him—mad—and mad in love moreover."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wi' the prettiest maid in these parts, old Mother Hanson's -grand-darter, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little Betty Hanson?" said Sir Josiah—"whom my -daughter-in-law Lady Kathleen sent to me months and months -ago, and to think that poor mad fellow loved her. But she's -married now, Markabee, and married well—married to a -young fellow who works for me, a lad named Cope! I'm -paying him six pounds a week, Markabee, and he's worth it, a -hard working honest lad. I had tea with them in their -little house and a prettier little hostess you never saw. But -if you'll believe me, Markabee, an arrant little flirt, with -those pretty eyes of hers——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her mother were the same," said Markabee. "All wimmen -more or less be the same—specially when they du have -fine eyes as Betty had."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why I don't know that you aren't right Markabee, and -yet not all, not all women Markabee, there is one——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah looked up and saw the one of whom he spoke. -She was coming slowly towards them along the flagged -pathway, her husband's arm about her, her head against his -shoulder and as they came slowly in the sunshine, they -halted now and again, for not yet, had all her strength come -back to her, though thank God, it was coming. She was still -a little pale, still a little languid in her movements. But in -her eyes there was a great and wonderful happiness and a -deep tenderness and unutterable love. Love for this man -beside her, this man to whom she clung, this man, who was -friend, lover, husband all in one. Was ever woman so blessed -as she?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Josiah stood watching them, knowing that these two -had found a happiness that was almost beyond his -understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then he would have turned and gone quietly away, -but Kathleen called to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you come here and sit with us in the sunshine -dear? Don't go, don't go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came back with a happy pleased look on his old face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't think you and Allan would want the old man," -he said, "I thought you two—together——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We want you always, when you are here our little world -is all complete," she said softly. "I have those whom I love -and those who love me," she lifted her hand and held it -against his cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so on the sunwarmed old stone bench they sat, and -there was no sound save the steady 'clip clip' of old Markabee's -shears and the rustle of the falling glossy green leaves -from the ivied wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>About them, was the sunshine and the glory of the flowers -in bloom, the little pool lay shimmering like molten gold, -and from its midst rose the slim white figure of the stone -maiden, for ever holding the broken pitcher on her sun kissed -shoulder.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">T. H. BEST PRINTING CO. LIMITED, TORONTO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE GARDEN OF MEMORIES</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49074"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49074</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. 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