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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..db88fc2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69711 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69711) diff --git a/old/69711-0.txt b/old/69711-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index edb5751..0000000 --- a/old/69711-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13689 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The star dreamer, by Agnes Castle - -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 Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The star dreamer - A romance - -Authors: Agnes Castle - Egerton Castle - -Release Date: January 5, 2023 [eBook #69711] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STAR DREAMER *** - - - - - - THE STAR DREAMER - - - - - BY THE SAME AUTHORS - - - _By Egerton Castle_ - - YOUNG APRIL - - THE LIGHT OF SCARTHEY - - MARSHFIELD THE OBSERVER - - CONSEQUENCES - - ENGLISH BOOK-PLATES—Ancient and Modern (_Illustrated_) - - SCHOOLS AND MASTERS OF FENCE. A History of the Art of the - Sword from the Middle Ages to the Nineteenth Century. - (_Illustrated_) - - THE JERNINGHAM LETTERS. (_With Portraits_) - - LE ROMAN DU PRINCE OTHON. A rendering in French of R. L. - Stevenson’s PRINCE OTTO. - - - _By Agnes and Egerton Castle_ - - THE PRIDE OF JENNICO - - THE BATH COMEDY - - THE HOUSE OF ROMANCE - - THE SECRET ORCHARD - - THE STAR DREAMER - - INCOMPARABLE BELLAIRS. (_In the Press_) - -[Illustration: - - THE HERB-GARDEN - - _An ancient gateway, looking as though it were closed forever ... and, - through the bars, the wild, imprisoned garden...._ -] - - - - - THE STAR DREAMER - _A ROMANCE_ - - - BY - AGNES AND EGERTON CASTLE - - _Authors of_ - - “THE PRIDE OF JENNICO,” “YOUNG APRIL,” “THE SECRET ORCHARD,” “THE HOUSE - OF ROMANCE,” “THE BATH COMEDY,” ETC. - -[Illustration] - - NEW YORK - FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1903, - BY EGERTON CASTLE. - - _All rights reserved._ - - PUBLISHED IN JANUARY, 1903. - - - Press of - Braunworth & Co. - Bookbinders and Printers - Brooklyn, N. Y. - - - - - TO - LADY STANLEY - (DOROTHY TENNANT) - - HERSELF SO GRACIOUS AN IMPERSONATION OF GIFTED AND GENEROUS WOMANHOOD, - THIS STORY OF A WOMAN’S INFLUENCE IS DEDICATED, IN ESTEEM, SYMPATHY, AND - FRIENDSHIP, BY THE AUTHORS - - - - - CONTENTS - - - THE ARGUMENT, vii - INTRODUCTORY, ix - - BOOK I. - CHAPTER PAGE - I. FAIR, YOUNG CAPABLE HANDS, 3 - II. A MASS OF SELFISHNESS, 13 - III. RUSTLING LEAVES OF MEMORY, 18 - IV. BACK AT A NEW DOOR OF LIFE, 24 - V. QUENCHLESS STARS ELOQUENT, 34 - VI. EYES, BLUE AS HIS STAR, 40 - VII. NEW ROADS UNFOLDING, 50 - VIII. WARM HEART, SUPERFLUOUS WISDOM, 56 - IX. HEALING HERBS, WARNING TEXTS, 66 - X. COMPACT AND ACCEPTANCE, 73 - XI. LAYING THE GHOSTS, 83 - XII. A KINDLY EPICURE, 92 - - BOOK II. - I. MIDSUMMER SUNRISE, 105 - II. _EUPHROSINE_, STAR-OF-COMFORT, 109 - III. A QUEEN OF CURDS AND CREAM, 120 - IV. OPEN-EYED CONSPIRACY, 127 - V. EVIL PROMPTER, JEALOUSY, 138 - VI. THE PERFECT ROSE, DROOPING, 150 - VII. NODS AND WREATHÉD SMILES, 157 - VIII. A GREY GOWN AND RED ROSES, 164 - IX. A RIDER INTO BATH, 174 - - BOOK III. - I. THE LITTLE MASTER OF BINDON, 181 - II. TOTTERING LIFE AND FORTUNE, 188 - III. STRAWS ON THE WIND, 195 - IV. A SHOCK AND A REVELATION, 200 - V. SILENT NIGHT THE REFUGE, 207 - VI. THE LUST OF RENUNCIATION, 215 - VII. SHADOWS OF THE HEART OF YOUTH, 224 - VIII. THE HERB EUPHROSINE, 232 - IX. AN OMINOUS JINGLE, 239 - X. A VAGUE DESPERATE SCHEME, 245 - XI. A PARLOUR OF PERFUME, 252 - XII. TO SLEEP—PERCHANCE TO DREAM! 262 - XIII. THOU CANST NOT SAY I DID IT, 274 - XIV. JEALOUS WATCHERS OF THE NIGHT, 285 - XV. A SIMPLER’S EUTHANASIA, 294 - XVI. THE TIME IS OUT OF JOINT, 297 - XVII. TREACHERIES OF SILENCE, 311 - XVIII. GONE LIKE A DREAM, 319 - XIX. GREY DEPARTURE, 331 - - BOOK IV. - I. AH ME, THE MIGHT-HAVE-BEEN! 341 - II. A MESSENGER OF GLAD TIDINGS, 350 - III. NOT WORDS, BUT HANDS MEETING, 359 - IV. A DREAM OF WOODS AND OF LOVE, 367 - - - - - THE ARGUMENT - - - I have clung - To nothing, lov’d a nothing, nothing seen - Or felt but a great dream! O I have been - Presumptuous against love, against the sky, - Against all elements, against the tie - Of mortals each to each.... - - ... Against his proper glory - Has my soul conspired; so my story - Will I to children utter, and repent. - - There never lived a mortal man, who bent - His appetite beyond his natural sphere - But starv’d and died.... - Here will I kneel, for thou redeemest hast - My life from too thin breathing: gone and past - Are cloudy phantasms! - —KEATS. - - - - - INTRODUCTORY - - - CONCERNING BINDON-CHEVERAL. - -_An ancient gateway, looking as though it were closed for ever; with its -carved stone pillar bramble-grown, its scrolled ironwork yielded to -silence and immobility, to crumbling rust—and through the bars the wild -imprisoned garden...._ - - -_The haunting of the locked door, of the condemned apartment in a house -of life and prosperity, how unfailingly it appeals to the romantic -fibre! Yet, more suggestive still, in the heart of a rich and trim -estate, is the forbidden garden jealously walled, sternly abandoned, -weed-invaded, falling (and seemingly conscious of its own doom) into a -rank desolation. The hidden room is enigmatic enough, but how stirring -to the fancy this peep of condemned ground, descried through bars of -such graceful design as could only have been once conceived for the -portals of a garden of delight!—Thus stands, in the midst of the -nurtured pleasaunces of Bindon-Cheveral, the curvetting iron gate -leading to the close known on the estate as the Garden of Herbs—a place -of mystery always, as reported by tradition; and, by the legend touching -certain events in the life of one of its owners, a place of somewhat -sinister repute. Even in the eyes of the casual visitor it has all the -air of_ - - _Some complaining dim retreat - For fear and melancholy meet._ - -_And in truth_ (_being fain to pursue the quotation further_) - - _I blame them not - Whose fancy in this lonely spot - Was moved._ - -_Ancient haunts of men have numberless tongues for those who know how to -hear them speak; therein lies the whole secret of the fascination that -they cast, even upon the uninitiated. Those, on the other hand, whose -minds are attuned to the sweetness of “unheard melodies” turn to such -places of long descent with the joy of the lover towards his bridal -chamber, for the wedding of fantasy with truth. Divers, indeed, and -many, might be the tales which the walls of Bindon-Cheveral could tell, -from what remains of its old battlements to the present mansion._ - -_Its front, which the passer-by upon the turnpike-road may in leafless -winter-time descry at the end of the long avenue of elms, has the -peaceful and rich stateliness of the Jacobean country seat—but there is -scarce a stone of its grey masonry, with its wide mullioned windows, its -terrace balustrades and garden stairways, that has not once been piled -to the arrogant height from which the Bindon Castle of stark Edward’s -times looked down upon the country-side. The towers and walls are gone; -but the keep still stands, sleeping now and shrouded under centuries of -ivy—a kindly massive prop to the younger house, its descendant. The -ornamental waters were once defensive moats: red they have turned with -other than the sunset glow, and secretly they have rippled to different -causes than the casting of a careless stone or the leap of the great fat -carp after a bait. Where the pleasure-grounds are now stretched in -formal Italian pride spread, centuries back, the outer bailey of the -once famous, now forgotten, stronghold._ - - -_Stirring would be the Romance of old Bindon I could recount, as old -Bindon revealed it to me—many the tales of love, of deeds, of hatred, of -ambition. I could tell brave things of the builder of the Castle, and -how he held the keep in defiance of Longshanks’ royal displeasure; or of -the Walter, Lord of Bindon, Knight of the Garter, High Treasurer to the -last Lancaster, and of his fortunes between the Two Roses; or yet of his -grandson, beheaded after Hexham; and, under Richard Crookback, of the -transfer of the good lands of Bindon to the “Jockey of Norfolk” who -perished on Bosworth Field.—And these would be tales of clash of steel -and waving banner as well as of wily diplomacy. Great figures would -stalk across my page; it would be shot with scarlet and gold, royal -colours; and high fortunes, those of England herself, would be mingled -with the lesser doings of knight and baron._ - -_I could set forth the truth touching some of those inner tragedies, now -legendary, that the warlike walls once witnessed after the first Tudor -had restored the estate of Bindon to the last descendant of its rightful -owner, a Cheveral, whereby the line of Bindon-Cheveral joined on the -older branch.—There was the Agnes Cheveral of the ballad singers—“so -false and fair”—who left the tradition of poison in the wine cup as a -fate to be dreaded by the Lords of Bindon.—And there was the Sir Richard -who kept his childless wife a life-long prisoner in the topmost chamber -of that keep now so placidly dreaming under its creepers!_ - -_Or I could reel you a bustling Restoration narrative of the doing of -the Edmund Cheveral known in the family as Edmund the Spendthrift, who -had roamed England, hunted and fasting, with Charles; had stagnated with -him, had junketed and roystered in Holland. He it was who brought over -the shrewish little French wife and her great fortune, and also foreign -notions of display, to old English Bindon. He it was who pulled down the -gloomy loopholed walls, built the present House, laid out the park and -the renowned gardens; who introduced the carp into the pacific moat -after the fashion of French châteaux; and who, bitten with fanciful -scientific aspiration—a friend of Rupert and a member of the Royal -Society—laid out in a sunken and wall-sheltered part of the old -fortified ground an inner pleasaunce of exotic plants and shrubs, after -the manner of Dutch Physick-Gardens._ - -_Or would you have the story of the new heir—a silent, dark man—and of -his mystic Welsh wife and of the new wealth and strain of blood that -came with her into the race? Or again, no doubt for those who care to -hear the call of horn and hounds, to see the port pass over the -mahogany; who find your three-bottle man the best company and the jokes -of the stable and of the gun-room the only ones worth cracking with the -walnut, there were a pleasant rollicking chapter or two to be chronicled -anent the generation of fox-hunting, hard-living Squires who kept Bindon -prosperous, made its cellars celebrated and its hospitality a byword._ - - -_And yet, my fancy lingers upon the spot where it was first awakened; -dwells on the story of the deserted Physick-Garden, with its closed -exquisitely-wrought gate, its mystery and its melancholy; with its -wildness wherein lies no hint of sordidness, but rather a fascinating, -elusive beauty. It is of this that I fain would write._ - -_Standing barred out, in this still autumn twilight, as the first stars -flash out faintly on the deepening vault; gazing upon its overgrown -paths, where the leaves of so many summers make rich mould; inhaling its -strange fragrances, the scent of the wholesome decay of nature mixed -with odd spices that come from far lands; hearing the wild birds cry as -they fly free in its imprisoned space—it seems to me as if the spirit of -my romance dwelt in these, and I could evoke it._ - - -_A tale of well-nigh a century ago; when George III. lay dying.—It was a -strangely silent Bindon then; and the whole house seemed to lie under -much such a spell as now holds its Herb-Garden. Yet those same garden -paths, if wild, were not deserted; and the gate, though locked to the -world at large, still rolled upon its hinges for one or two who had the -key._ - -_In those days of slow journeys and quick adventure, had you been a -traveller on the turnpike-road between Devizes and Bath, you could not, -looking over the park wall from your high seat, but have been struck by -the brooding, solitary look that lay all upon this great House, with its -shuttered windows and upon these wide lands, so rich, yet so lonely._ - -_The driver of the coach would, no doubt, have pointed with his whip; -his tongue would have been ready to wag—was not Bindon one of the -wonders of his road?_ - -“_Aye, you might well say it looked strange! There were odd stories -about the place, and odd folk living there, if all folk said were true. -The owner, Sir David Cheveral (as good blood as any in the county, and -once as likely a young man as one could wish to see), had turned crazy -with staring at the stars and took no bit nor sup but plain bread and -water. That was what some said; and others that he was bewitched by an -old kinsman of his that lived with him—an old, old man, bearded like a -Jew, who could not die, and who practised spell-work on the village -folk. That was what others said. Anyhow, they two lived in there quite -alone; one on his tower, the other underground. And that was true. And -the flowers bloomed in the garden, and the fruit ripened on the walls; -there were horses in the stables and cattle in the byres (the like of -which could not be bettered in Wiltshire); the whole place was flowing -with milk and honey, as they say, and the only ones to use it all were -the servants! Oh, there the servants grew fat and did well, while the -master looked up to the skies and grew lean._” - -_And presently, to the sound of your driver’s jovial laugh the coach -would bowl clear of the long grey walls, emerge from under the -overhanging branches; and then the well-known stretch of superb scenery -suddenly revealed at the bend of the road would perhaps so engross your -attention that your transient traveller’s interest in the eccentric, -world-forsaking master of Bindon-Cheveral would no doubt have -evaporated._ - - -_But pray you who travel with me to-day give me longer patience. I have -to tell the story of Bindon’s awakening._ - - - - - THE STAR DREAMER - - - - - BOOK I - - - Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart. - WORDSWORTH (_Sonnets_). - - - - - THE STAR DREAMER - - - - - CHAPTER I - FAIR, YOUNG, CAPABLE HANDS - - Alone and forgotten, absolutely free, - His happy time he spends, the works of God to see - In those wonderful herbs which here in plenty grow, - Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know, - And choicely sorts his simples got abroad, - And dreams of the All-Heal that is still on the road.... - —DRAYTON (_Polyolbion_). - - -On that evening of the autumnal equinox Master Simon Rickart—the simpler -or the student as he liked to call himself, the alchemist as many held -him to be—alone, save for the company of his cat, in his laboratory at -the foot of the keep, was luxuriating as usual in his work of research. - -The black cat sat by the wood fire and watched the man. - -As Master Simon moved to and fro, the topaz eyes followed him. When he -spoke (which he constantly did to himself, under his voice and -disjointedly, after the wont of some solitary old people) they became -narrowed into slits of cunning intelligence. But when the observations -were personally addressed to his Catship, Belphegor blinked in -comfortable acknowledgment. “As wise as Master Simon himself,” the -country folk vowed: and indeed, wherever the fame of the alchemist had -spread through the country-side, so had that of the alchemist’s cat. - -There were two fires in the laboratory. One of timber, that roared and -crackled its life away and sank into an ever increasing heap of fair -white ash. In the vault-like room this fire burned year in year out on a -hearth hewn many feet into the deep wall; and from many points of view -Belphegor found it vastly more satisfactory than the other fire, which -generally engrossed the best of his master’s attention. That was a -stealthy red glow, nurtured on a wide stove built into another wall -recess, sheltered behind a glass screen under a tall hood:—a fire -productive of the strangest smells, at times evil, but as often sweet -and aromatic: a fire also productive on occasions of coloured vapours -and dancing flamelets of suspicious nature. There, as the cat knew, -happened now and again unexpected ebullitions, disastrous alike to the -nerves and to the fur. In his kitten days, Belphegor, led ostensibly by -overpowering affection but really by the constitutional curiosity of his -genus, had been wont to accompany his chosen master behind the screen. -He knew better now. And there was a bald spot near the end of his tail, -where no amount of licking on his part, no cunning unguent of Master -Simon’s himself could to this day induce a hair to grow again. - - -The old man had closed the door of the stove; rearranged, crown-like, a -set of glass vessels of engaging shapes: alembics and matrasses, filled -with decoctions of green and amber, gorgeous colours shot with the red -reflection of the fire; tucked a baby-small porcelain crucible in its -fireclay cradle and banked the glowing cinders around it. The touch of -the wrinkled hands was neat, almost caressing. After a last look around, -he emerged, blowing a breath of content: - -“Everything in good trim, so far, for to-night’s work, my cat.” - -And Belphegor blinked both eyes. - -Faint vapours, herb-scented, voluptuous, rose and circled to the groined -roof. The log fire on the hearth had fallen to red stillness. In the -silence, delicate sounds of bubbling and simmering, little songs in -different keys, gurgles as of fairy laughter, became audible. - -“Hark to it!” said the simpler, and bent his ear with a smile of -satisfaction. He spoke in a monotonous undertone, not unlike the -muttering of the sleep-walker—“Hark to it! There is a concert for -you—new tunes to-night, Belphegor. Strange, delightful! There is not a -little plant but has its own voice, its own soul-song. Hark, how they -yield them up! Good little souls! Bad little souls, some of them, he, -he! Enough in that retort yonder to make helpless idiots, or dead flesh -of a hundred lusty men. Dead flesh of eleven such fine cats as yourself -and one kitten, he, he! Yet—for properly directed, friend Belphegor, -vice may become virtue—enough here to keep the fever from the homestead -for three generations....” - -The old man moved noiselessly in his slippers across the stone floor, -flung a couple of fresh logs on the sinking hearth, then stretched out -his frail hands to the blaze and laughed gently. The flame light played -fantastically on his shrunken figure:—a being, it would seem, so -ætherealised that it scarcely looked as if blood could still be -circulating beneath that skin, like yellow ivory, tensely stretched over -the vast, denuded forehead and the bold, high-featured face. Mind alone, -one would have thought, must animate that emaciated body; mind alone -light up those steel-blue eyes with such keenness that, by contrast with -the age-stricken countenance, they shone with almost unearthly vitality. - -The cat stretched himself, yawned; then advanced, humping his back and -bristling, to rub himself against his master’s legs. The fire roared -again in the chimney, a score of greedy tongues licking up the last -drops of sap that oozed forth, hissing, from the beech logs. - -“Aha,” said Master Simon, bending down somewhat painfully to give a -scratch to the animal’s neck, “that’s the fire-song you prefer. I fear, -I fear, Belphegor, you will never rise beyond the grossest everyday -materialism!” - -Purring Belphegor endorsed the opinion by curling up luxuriously on his -head and stretching out his hind paws to the flame. The little scene was -an allegory of peace and comfort. The old man, straightening himself, -remained awhile musing: - -“Well, it is good music—a song of the people. All of the stout woods of -Bindon, of the deep English earth, of the salt English airs. No subtle -virtue in it: a roaring good tune, a homely smell and a heap of ash -behind—but all clean, my cat, clean!” - -He gathered the folds of his dressing-gown around him; a garment that -had once been wondrous fine and set in fashion (in the days of his -elegant youth) by no less a person than his present Majesty, King George -IV., but now so stained, so singed and scorched and generally faded, -that its original hues were but things of memory. - -“And now we shall have a quiet hour before supper. What a good thing, my -cat, that neither you nor I are attractive to company! The original man -was created to be alone. But the fool could not appreciate his bliss, -and so he was given a companion—a woman, Belphegor, a woman!—and -Paradise was lost.” - -Again Master Simon chuckled. It was a sound of ineffable content, -weirdly escaping through the nostrils above compressed lips. He took up -a lighted candle, stepped carefully over the cat and, selecting between -his fingers a key from a bunch at his girdle, approached a wooden press -that cut off an angle of the room. - -This was built of heavily carved black oak, secured with sturdy iron -hinges; had high double doors and small peeping keyholes, suggestive of -much cunning. It was a press to receive and keep secrets. And yet, when -the panels were thrown open, nothing of more formidable nature was -displayed than rows upon rows of inner drawers and shelves, the latter -covered some with philosophical instruments, others displaying piles of -neatly ticketed boxes, ranks of phials, and sealed tubes of various -liquids or crystals that flashed in the light with prismatic -scintillation. - -Holding the candle above his head the old man selected: - -“The box of Moorish powder from Tangiers—the bottle of Java Water—the -paste of _Cannabis Arabiensis_—the _Hippomane Mancenilla_ gum of -Yucatan.” - -He placed the materials on a glass tray and carried them over to the -working table. - -“Excellent Captain Trevor! The simple fellow has never done thanking me -for curing him of his West Coast fever with a course of _Herba -Betonica_; he, he! the common, ignored, humble Wood Betony. Thanking -me—he, he! Never did a pinch of powder bring better interest...! Oh, my -cat, I’m a mass of selfishness! And here I have at last the Java Water -and the Yucatan gum!” - -The cat roused himself, walked sedately but circuitously across the -room, leaped up and took his position with feet and tail well tucked in -on the bare space left, by right of custom, where the warmth of the lamp -should comfort his back. - -On Master Simon’s table lay a row of small covered watch-glasses, thin -as films, each containing a small heap of some greenish crystalline -powder. A pair of chemical scales held out slender arms within the walls -of its glass case. The neat array looked inviting. - -With a noise as of rustling parchment the simpler rubbed his hands; he -was in high good humour. The tall clock at the end of the room wheezed -out the ghost of nine beats, and the strangled sounds seemed but to -point the depth of the environing silence. For the thick walls kept out -all the voices of nature, and at all times enwrapt the underground room -with a solemn stillness that gave prominence to its whispers of secret -doings. - -“Nine o’clock!” muttered the self-communer. “Another hour’s peace before -even Barnaby break in upon us with his supper tray. Hey, but this is a -good hour! This is luxury. I feel positively abandoned! Not a soul in -this whole wing of Bindon, save you and me—unless we reckon our good -star-dreamer above—good youth with his head in the clouds. Heigh ho, men -are mostly fools, and all women! Therefore wisely did I choose my only -familiar—thou prince of reliable confidants.” - -The man stretched out his hand and caressed the beast’s round head. -Belphegor tilted his chin to lead the scratching finger to its favourite -spot. - -“Hey, but man must speak—it is part of his incomplete nature—were it -only to put order in his ideas, to marshall them without tripping hurry. -And you neither argue nor contradict, nor give a fool’s acquiescence. -You listen and are silent. Wise cat! Now, men are mostly fools ... and -all women!” - -Master Simon lifted the phial of Java Water, a fluid of opalescent pink, -between his eye and the light. He removed the stopper and sniffed at it. -Then compared the fragrance with that of the Moorish powders, and became -absorbed in thought. At one moment he seemed, absently, on the point of -comparing the tastes in the same manner, but paused. - -“No, sir, not to-night,” he murmured. “We must keep our brain clear, our -hand steady. But it will be an experiment of quite unusual -interest—quite unusual.... I am convinced the essential components are -the same.—Belphegor! Keep your nozzle off that gallipot! Do you not -dream enough as it is?” - -He pushed the turn-back cuffs still further from his attenuated wrists, -and with infinite precaution addressed himself to the manipulation of -his watch-glasses, silver pincers and scales: the final stage of -weighing and apportioning the result of an analytical experiment of -already long standing was at hand. - -His great white eyebrows contracted. Now, bending close, he held his -breath to watch the swing of the delicate balance; now with fevered -fingers he jotted notes and figures. At times a snapping hand, a -clacking tongue, proclaimed dissatisfaction; but presently, widening his -eyes and moistening his lips, he started upon a fresh clue with renewed -gusto. - -The clock had ticked and jerked its way through the better part of the -hour when the weird muttering became once more audible: - -“Curious, curious! Yet it works to my theory. Now if these last figures -agree it will be proof. Pshaw, the scales are tired. How they fidget! -Belphegor, my friend, down with you, the smallest vibration would ruin -my week’s work. Down! Now let us see. As seventy-three is to a hundred -and twenty-five ... as seventy-three is to a hundred and twenty-five.... -A plague on it!” exclaimed Master Simon pettishly, without looking up. -“There’s that Barnaby, of course in the nick of wrong time!” - - -The door at the dim end of the room had been opened softly. A puff of -wood smoke had been blown down the chimney. A tiny draught skimmed -across the table; the steady lamplight flickered and cast dancing -shadows; and Master Simon’s tense fingers trembled with irritation. - -“All to begin again. Curse you, Barnaby! You’re deaf, I can curse you, -thank Providence!” - -Without turning round he made a hasty, forbidding gesture of one hand. -The door was shut as gently as it had been opened. - -Master Simon gave a deep sigh, and still fixedly eyeing the scales, -stretched his cramped hands along the table for a moment’s rest. - -“Now, now? Ha—Ho—What? Sixty-nine to eighty-two? Impossible! Tchah! -Those scales have the palsy—nay, Simon Rickart, it is your impotent -hand. Old age, old age, my friend ... or stormy youth, alas!” His -muttering whisper rose to louder cadence. “Had you but known then, in -your young folly, the chains you were forging, for your aged wisdom! But -sixty to-day, and this senile trembling! Not a shake of that hand, -Simon, but is paying for the toss of the cup; not a mist in that brain -but is the smoke of wanton, bygone fires. Well vast is the pity of it! -Had you but the hand now of that dreamer up above! Had you but the -virtue of his temperate life! And the fool is staring at his feeble -twinklers ... worshipping the unattainable, while all rich Nature, here -at hand, awaits the explorer. Oh, to feel able to trace Earth mysteries -to the marrow of Man; to hold the six days’ wonder in one single action -of the mind ... and to be foiled at every turn by the trembling of a -finger!” - -He leaned back in his chair, long lines of discouragement furrowing his -face. - - -Behind him, in the silence, barely more audible than the simmering -sounds of the fires and the lembics, there was a stir of another -presence, quiet, but living. But Master Simon, absorbed in his own world -of thought, perceived nothing. - -With closed eyes, he made another effort to conquer the rebellious -weakness of the flesh and bring it into proper subjection to the -merciless vigour of the mind. At that moment the one important thing on -earth to the old student was the success of his analysis. And had the -Trump of Doom begun to sound in his ears, his single desire would still -have been to endeavour to conclude it before the final crash. - -Light footfalls in the room—not caused by Belphegor’s stealthy paws, -certainly not by Barnaby’s masculine foot—a sound as of the rustle of a -woman’s garments, a sound unprecedented for years in these consecrated -precincts, failed to reach his faculties. Once more he drew his chair -forward, leant his elbows on the table, and, stooping his head so that -eyes and hands were nearly on the same level, set himself to the -exasperatingly delicate task of minute weighing. And the while he -muttered on with a droll effect of giving directions to himself: - -“The right rider, half a line to the right. That should do it this time! -Too much—bring it back! Faugh, out of all gear! Too much back now. Fie, -fie, confusion upon my spinal cord—nerves, muscles, and the whole old -fumbling fabric!” - - -Here, two hands, with unerring swoop like that of an alighting dove, -came out of the dimness on each side of the bent figure, and with cool, -determined touch gently withdrew the old man’s hot and shaking fingers -from their futile task. - -Master Simon’s ancient bones shook with a convulsive start; a look of -intense amazement passed into his straining eye, then the faintest shade -of a smile on his lips. But, characteristically, he never turned his -head or otherwise moved: the business at hand was of too high import. He -sat rigid, silently watching. - -The interfering hands now became busy for a space with soft unhurried -purpose. Beautiful hands they were, white as ivory outside and -strawberry pink within, taper-fingered and almond-nailed; not too small, -and capable in the least of their movements. Compared to those other -hands that now lay, still trembling in pathetic supineness, where they -had been placed, they were as young shoots, full of vital sap, to the -barren and withered branch. A woman’s warm presence enfolded the -student. A young bosom brushed by his bloodless cheek. A light breath -fanned his temples. A scent as of lavender bushes in the sun, of bean -fields in blossom, of meadowsweet among the new-mown hay; something -indescribably fresh, an out-of-door breath as of English summer, spread -around him, curiously different from the essences of his phials and -stills. But Master Simon had no senses, no thought but for the work -those busy hands were now performing. - -“The right rider, to the right, just half a line?” said a voice, -repeating his last words in a tranquil tone. “A line—those little -streaks on the arms are lines?” - -Master Simon assented briefly: “Yes.” - -The fingers moved. - -“Enough, enough!” ordered he. “Now back gently till the needle swings -evenly.” - -The pulse of the scales, hitherto leaping like that of a frightened -heart, first steadied itself into regularity and then slowed down into -stillness. The long needle pointed at last to nought. The white hands -hovered a second. - -“Not another touch!” faintly screamed the old man. - -He craned forward, his body again tense; gazed and muttered, wrote and -rapidly calculated. - -“Yes, yes, yes! Seventy-three to a hundred and twenty-five—I was -right—Eureka! The principles of the two are the same. Right! Right!” - -Now Simon Rickart, rubbing his hands, turned round delightedly. - - - - - CHAPTER II - A MASS OF SELFISHNESS - - ... Such eyes were in her head; - And so much grace and power, breathing down - From over her arch’d brows, with every turn - Lived thro’ her to the tips of her long hands.... - —TENNYSON (_The Princess_). - - -“Well, Father?” - -Master Simon started. His eyes shot a look of searching inquiry at the -young woman who now came round to the side of the high table, and bent -down to bring her fresh face to a level with his. - -“Ellinor? Not Ellinor, not my daughter...!” he said. - -“Ellinor. The only daughter you ever had. The only child, as far as I -know!” - -The tranquil voice had a pleasant, matter-of-fact note. The last words -were pointed merely by a sudden deep dimple at the corner of the lips -that spoke them. But it was trouble, amounting to agitation, that here -took possession of the father. He pushed his chair back from the table, -rubbed his hands through his scant silver locks, tugged at his beard. - -“You’ve come on ... on a visit, I suppose?” he said presently, with -hesitation. - -“I have come to stay some time—a long time, if I may.” - -“But—Marvel, but your husband?” - -“Dead.” - -The dimple disappeared, but the voice was quite unaltered. She had not -shifted her position. - -“Dead?” echoed Master Simon. His eyes travelled wonderingly from her -black stuff gown—a widow’s gown indeed—to the head with its unwidow-like -crown of hair; to the face so youthful, so curiously serene, so -unmournful. - -Her hands were lightly clasped under the pointed white chin. Here the -father’s eyes rested; and from the chaos of his disturbed mind the last -element of his surprise struggled to the surface and formulated itself -into another question: - -“Where is your wedding ring?” - -“I took it off.” - -Ellinor Marvel straightened her figure. - -“Father,” she said, “we have always seen very little of each other, but -I know you spend your life as a searcher after truth. Since we are now, -as I hope, to live together, you will be glad to take notice from the -first that I have at least one virtue: I am a truthful woman. It will -save a good deal of explanation if I tell you now that, when the coach -crossed the bridge this evening and I threw into the waters of the Avon -the gold ring I had worn for ten miserable years, I said: ‘Thank God!’” - -Simon Rickart took a stumbling turn up and down the room: his daughter -stood watching him, motionless. Then he halted before her and broke into -a protest, by turns incoherent, testy, and plaintive. - -“Come to stay—stay a long time! But, this is folly! We’ve no women here, -child, except the servants. David wants no women about him. I don’t want -any women about me! There’s not been a petticoat in this room since you -were last here yourself. And that, that’s ten years ago. You will be -very uncomfortable. You have no kind of an idea of what sort of -existence you are proposing to yourself. I am a mass of selfishness. I -should make your life a burden to you. Be reasonable, my dear! I am a -very old man. Pooh, pooh, I won’t allow it! You must go elsewhere. Hey, -what?” - -“I cannot go elsewhere, I have no money.” - -“No money! But Marvel! But the fortune I gave you? Tut, tut, what folly -is this now?” - -“Gone, gone—and more! He would have died in the Fleet had we not escaped -abroad. The guineas I have now in my purse are the last I own in the -world. All my other worldly goods are in the couple of trunks now in the -passage.” She stopped, and remained awhile silent, then in a lower voice -and slowly: “Look at me, father,” she added, “can I live alone?” - -He looked as he was bidden. He, the man who had not always been a -recluse, the whilom man of the world who in older years had taken study -as a hobby, the man of bygone pleasures, appraised her ripe woman’s -beauty with rapid discrimination. Then into the father’s eyes there -sprang a gleam of something like pride—pride of such a daughter—a light -of remembrance, a struggling tenderness. The next moment the worn lids -fell and the old man stood ashamed: - -“I beg your pardon, my dear,” he said, gravely, and sank into his chair. - -She came round and looked down at him a moment smiling. - -“You never heard me walk all about the room,” she said, “I have a light -tread. And I’ll always wear stuff dresses here.” Then, more coaxingly: -“I don’t think you’ll find me much in the way, father. I’ve got good -eyes, I am remarkably intelligent”—she paused a second and, thrusting -out her hands under his brooding gaze, added with a soft laugh: “And you -know I’ve steady hands!” - -He stared at the pretty white things. Faintly he murmured: - -“But I’m a mass of selfishness!” - -“Then I’ll be the more useful to you!” she cried gaily and laid first -her cool, young cheek, then her warm, young lips upon his forehead. - -The sap was not yet dead in the old branch, after all. Master Simon’s -body had not become the mere thinking machine he fain would have made -it. There was blood enough still in his old veins to answer to the call -of its own. Memories, tender, remorseful, all human, were still lurking -in forgotten corners of a brain consecrated, he fancied, wholly to -Science; memories which now awoke and clamoured. Slowly he stretched out -his hand and touched his daughter’s cheek. - -“Poor child!” - -Ellinor Marvel now drew back quietly. Master Simon passed a finger -across his eyes and muttered that their light was getting dim. - -“The lamp wants trimming,” she said, and proceeded to do it with that -calm diligence of hers that made her activity seem almost like repose. -But she knew well enough that neither sight nor lamp was failing; and -she felt her home-coming sanctioned. - -At this point something black and stealthy began to circle irregularly -round her skirts, tipping them with hardly tangible brush, while a vague -whirring as of a spinning-wheel arose in the air. She stepped back: the -thing followed her and seemed to swell larger and larger, while the -whirrs became as it were multiplied and punctuated by an occasional -catch like the click of clockwork. - -“Why, look father!” - -There was a gay note in her voice. Master Simon looked, and amazement -was writ upon his learned countenance. - -“Belphegor likes you!” he exclaimed, pulling at his beard. “Singular, -most singular! I have never known the creature tolerate anyone’s touch -but my own or Barnaby’s.” - -Hardly were the words spoken when, with a magnificent bound, Belphegor -rose from the floor and alighted upon her shoulder—at the exact place he -had selected between the white column of the throat and the spring of -the arm—and instantly folded himself in comfort, his great tail sweeping -her back to and fro, his head caressing her cheek with the touch of a -butterfly’s wing, his enigmatic eyes fixed the while upon his master. -Ellinor laughed aloud, and presently the sound of Master Simon’s nasal -chuckle came into chorus. He rubbed his hands; he was extraordinarily -pleased, though quite unaware of it himself. - -Ellinor sat on the arm of his winged elbow-chair—his “Considering -Chair,” as he was wont to describe it—and looked around smiling. - -“Still at the same studies, father? How sweet it smells in this room! It -looks smaller than I remember it. I once thought it was as big as a -cathedral. But I myself felt smaller then. How long ago it seems! And -what is that discovery that I came just in time for?” - -Master Rickart engaged willingly enough in the track of that pleasant -thought. - -“Why, my dear, simply that an old surmise of mine was right. Ha, ha, I -was right.... The active principle of _Geranium Cyanthos_ with the root -of which, as Fabricius relates—Fabricius, the great Dutch traveller and -plant-hunter—the Kaffir warlocks are said to cure dysentery.... It is -positively identical with a similar crystalline substance which I have -for many years obtained from _Hedera Warneriensis_—the species of ivy -that grows about the ruins of Bindhurst Abbey, of which mention is made -by Prynne....” - - -Thus he rambled on with the selfish garrulity of the old man in the grip -of his hobby; presently, however, he fell back to addressing himself -rather than his listener, and gradually subsided into reflectiveness. -And once more silence drew upon the room. - - - - - CHAPTER III - RUSTLING LEAVES OF MEMORY - - ... The garden-scent - Brings back some brief-winged bright sensation - Of love that came and love that went. - —DOBSON (_A Garden Idyll_). - - -Long drawn minutes, ticked off by the slow beat of the laboratory clock, -dropped into the abysm of the past. - -Master Simon, sunk in his chair, his head bent on his breast, had fallen -into a deep muse. His eyes, fixed upon the face of his daughter—fair and -thrown into fairer relief by Belphegor’s black muzzle nestling close to -it—had gradually gathered to themselves that blank, unseeing look which -betrays a mind set upon inner things. - -Ellinor sat still, her shapely hands folded on her lap. She was glad of -the rest, for this was the end of a weary journey. She was glad, also, -of the silence, which gave room to her clamourous thought. - -Home again! The only home she had ever known. For those last ten years -seemed only like one hideous, interminable voyage in which she, the -unwilling traveller, had been hurried from port to port without one hour -of rest. - -To this house of peace, encircled by a triple ring of silence—the great -walls, the still waters of the moat, and the vast, stately park with its -mute army of trees—she had first been brought at so early an age that -any recollections of other hearth or roof were as vague as those of a -dream-world. But vivid were the memories now crowding back of her former -life here—memories of rosy, healthy childhood.—Aunt Sophia’s kind, -foolish face and her indulgent, unwise rule. Baby Ellinor rolling again -on the velvet sward and pulling off the tulip blossoms by the head; -child Ellinor ranging and roaming in stable and farm, running wild in -the gardens.... Nearly all her joys were somehow mingled with gardens; -with the rosary in the pleasure-grounds, which she roamed every day of -the summer; with the old kitchen garden, where she devoured the -baby-peas and the green gooseberries; with the Herb-Garden—the -mysterious, the strictly forbidden, the alluring Herb-Garden, her -father’s living museum of strange plants! - -Between high walls it lay: a long, narrow strip, running down to the -moat on one side and abutting to the blind masonry of the keep on the -other. Here her father—an ever more remote figure, and for some reason -unintelligible to her child’s mind, ever more detached from the common -existence of the house, took his sole taste of air and sunshine. How -often, peeping in through the locked iron gates, she had watched him, -with curiosity and awe, as he passed and re-passed amid the rank -luxuriance of the herbs and bushes, so absorbed in cogitation that his -eyes, when they fell upon the little face behind the bars, never seemed -to see it.—The Herb-Garden! Naturally, this one spot (where, it seemed, -grew the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil) had a vastly greater -attraction for the small daughter of Eve than the paradise of which she -had the freedom. Aunt Sophia had warned her that the leaf of any one of -those strange herbs might be death! Yet visit the Herbary she often did, -all parental threats and injunctions notwithstanding, by a secret -entrance through the ruins of the keep. - -Strange that her thoughts should from the very hour of her return home -hark back so much to the Herb-Garden! No doubt there was suggestion in -all the sweet smells floating now around her. She thought she recognised -_Camphire_ and _Frangipanni_; but there were others too, known yet -nameless; and they brought her back to the fragrant spot, the delights -of which had so long been forgotten. - -Her memories were nearly all of solitary childhood. Sir David, the young -master of Bindon, the orphan cousin to whom Simon Rickart was in those -days humourously supposed to play the part of guardian, entered but -little into them, and then only as a grave Eton boy, disdainful of her -torn frocks, of her soiled hands, her shrill joyousness. He and his -sister Maud kept fastidiously aloof.... Maud of the black ringlets and -the fine frocks, who from the first had made her little cousin realise -the gulf that must exist between the child of the poor guardian and the -daughter of the House. - -But later came a change. - -She was Miss Ellinor—a tall maiden, suddenly alive to the desirableness -of ordered locks and pretty gowns; and young Sir David began to assume -importance within her horizon. How these fleeting memories, evoked by -the essence of Master Simon’s distilling, were sailing in the silence of -the room round Ellinor’s head! - -It was during his University years. The young master brought into his -house every vacation an extraordinary stir of eager life. There came -batches of favoured companions, varying according to the mood of the -moment:—youthful philosophers who had got so far beyond the most -advanced thought of the age as to have lost all footing; or exquisite -young dandies, with lisps and miraculously fitting kerseymere pantaloons -and ruffles of lace before which Miss Sophia opened wide mouth and eyes; -or again, serious, aristocratic striplings of earnest political views. - -During these invasions Aunt Sophia suddenly developed a spirit of -prudence quite unknown to her usual practice, and Miss Ellinor, much to -her disappointment, was kept studiously in the background. Upon this -head cousin David entered suddenly into the narrow circle of her -emotions. Chafing against the unwonted restraint, Ellinor one day defied -orders, and boldly presented herself at the breakfast-table while her -cousin and two young men of dazzling beauty, all in hunting pink and -buckskins, were partaking of chops and coffee under the chaste ægis of -Miss Sophia Rickart’s ringlets. - -How well Ellinor could recall the startling effect of her entrance. She -had walked in with that boldness which girlish timidity can assume under -the spur of a strong will. Miss Sophia had gaped. Three pairs of eyes -were fixed upon the intruder. David’s serious gaze, always so enigmatic -to her. Then the Master of Lochore’s red-brown orbs.—They were something -of the colour of his auburn hair. She had come under their range before, -and had hated them and him upon a sudden instinct, all the more perhaps -for the singular attachment which David was known to have found for -him.—The third espial upon her was one of soft, yet piercing blackness: -she was pulled-up in her would-be nonchalant advance as by an invisible -barrier. David, long and lean in his red and white, had risen and come -across to her with great deliberation. He had taken her hand. - -“Cousin Ellinor,” he had said, in a voice of most gentle courtesy, “you -have been misinformed: Aunt Sophia did not request your presence.” - -He had bowed, led her out across the threshold, bowed again, and closed -the door. There had been a shout from within, expostulation and -laughter. And she, without, had stamped her sandalled foot and waited to -hear no more. With tears of bitter mortification streaming down her -cheeks she had rushed to her beloved old haunt in the Herb-Garden, -carrying with her an odious vision of her cousin’s face as it bent over -her; of his grave eyes, so strangely light in contrast with the dark -cheek; of the satirical twist of his lips and the mock ceremony of his -manner. - -But she had taken with her also another vision; and that was then so -consoling that, as she marched to and fro among the fragrant bushes that -were growing yellow and crisp under autumn skies, she was fain to let -her mind dwell lingeringly upon it. It was the black broad stare of -surprised admiration in young Marvel’s eyes. - -Many a time, in the subsequent days, did the walls of the forbidden -gardens enfold her in their secrecy—but not alone. He of the black eyes -had heard of the secret entrance and was by her side many a time—Aye, -and many a time, in the years that followed, had Ellinor told herself, -in the bitterness of her heart, how far better it would have been for -her then to have sucked the poison of the most evil plant that had clung -appealingly round her as she brushed by, listening to young Marvel’s -wooing. - -Those were days of courtship: an epidemic of sentiment seemed to have -spread through Bindon. Handsome, ease-loving, bachelor parson -Tutterville developed a sudden energy in the courtship which had -stagnated for years between him and Aunt Sophia, on whose round cheeks -long-forgotten roses bloomed again. - -And David too! From one day to the other Sir David Cheveral had -received, it seemed, fair and square in his virgin heart, virgin for all -the brilliant and fast life he seemed to lead, the most piercing dart in -Love’s whole quiver. He was one of those with whom such wounds are ill -to heal. Poor David! - -In the prevailing atmosphere he of the black eyes had got his own way -easily enough. Marriage bells were the music of the hour. Parson -Tutterville led the way to the altar with Miss Sophia’s ringlets -drooping upon his arm. Ellinor promptly followed, with lids that were -not easily drooped cast down under the blaze of the drowning black -stare. Ellinor the child, confident little moth throwing her soul -against the first alluring flame, to its torture and undoing! - -Well, all that was past! She had revived. She was back at the door of -life, stronger and wiser. But David? David was also alone. After scaling -to the pinnacle of the most exalted, devouring passion, he had had to go -down into the valley again, alone, carrying the sting in his heart. -Alone, always, she had heard. Poor David! - -“No!—Happy David,” said Ellinor aloud. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - BACK AT A NEW DOOR OF LIFE - - Joy’s recollection is no longer joy - While sorrow’s memory is sorrow still! - —BYRON (_Doge of Venice_). - - -“Eh?” said the old man. - -He fixed his gaze once more upon his daughter, and stared at her for a -moment as if her comely presence were but some freakish play of his own -senses. - -“Father?” - -The knotted wrinkles became softened into an unwilling smile. - -“I spoke aloud, didn’t I?” said she. “It must be an inherited trick! I -was thinking of David. He never thought more of marriage?” - -“Marriage!” - -“Will he never marry, father?” - -“David, marry! Oh, pooh! David, wise man, has consecrated his youth to -his pursuit. Pity, though, he did not choose a more satisfactory one!” - -Mrs. Marvel lifted Belphegor from her shoulders to the floor and drew -her chair closer. - -“You mean his star-gazing? He sits in his tower all night, peering at -the skies, ‘and dreams all day, like an owl.’ That’s what Willum said -when I questioned him just now. Do you also call his a foolish pursuit?” - -“He’s a visionary, a dreamer,” answered the other testily. “A splendid -mind, the vigour of a young brain ... and to waste it on the stars, on -distant worlds with which no telescope can ever bring him into any -useful contact, from which no nights of study, were he to live as long -as Methuselah, will ever enable him to gain one single grain heavy -enough to weigh down that scale there, that scale which as you saw, will -not even bear a breath unmoved! And all this world, child, all this -world!” In his enthusiasm the old man had risen and now was pacing the -room. “This teeming, inexhaustible world of ours, full of marvellous, -most subtle secrets yet submissive to our investigation, from the mass -that blocks out our horizon to the tiniest atom that, even beneath this -glass,”—he was now by his work-table and his fingers caressed the -microscope—“is scarce visible to the eye, all obedient to the same laws -and amenable to our ken! With all these treasures at his hand, awaiting -him, he throws away his life on the unattainable, on the stars, on -moonshine!” - -The faded dressing-gown flapped about the speaker’s lean legs as he -walked; his white hair swung lightly over his bent shoulders. - -Ellinor looked after him with eyes of amusement. - -“The short of it,” said she, “is that he prefers his telescope to your -microscope.” - -“Fancy to fact, girl! Dreams to reality! Speculation to uses! Ah, what -should we not have done, we two, had he been willing to work down here -instead of up there!” - -With a growl Master Simon returned to his sweet-smelling furnace and -began mechanically to feed the fires with charcoal. She heard him -mutter, as if to himself: - -“Work with me? Why, I hardly ever even see him! David’s a ghost, rather -than a man—a ghost that rises with the evening shades and disappears at -dawn; that never speaks unless you charge him!” - -Ellinor remained silent a while, pondering. Presently she said, in the -voice of one who sees in what to others seems incomprehensible a very -simple proposition: - -“He lives, it would appear, uplifted in thoughts beyond the sordid -things of earth. He knows no disillusion, for the unattainable star will -never crumble to ashes in his hand. He will never see of what ugly clay -the distant and glorious planet may, after all, be made! I say: happy -David ... not to have married his first love.” - -“Tush! Don’t you believe that David ever thinks of love.” - -He made an impatient motion with the bellows and cast over his shoulder -a look of severity, of surprise that a person who had shown herself -capable of managing the rider on his scale should endeavour to engage -him in the discussion of such trivialities in this appallingly short -life. - -Their glances met. It was his own spirit that looked back to him, -brightly defiant, out of eyes as brilliant and as searching as his own, -and as blue. - -“These things, these unconsidered trifles of hearts and hopes and -sorrows, they’re quite beneath notice, are they not, father? You know no -more of the woman that drove poor David to the top of his tower—the -David I remember was not a recluse—than you did of the dashing, handsome -youth to whom you handed over your only child ... that she might live -happy ever after!” - -The widow laughed. But it was with a twist of her ripe, red mouth and a -harsh sound like the note of an indignant bird. - -The old man, remained arrested for a space, stooping over the stove with -the bellows poised in his hand, as if the meaning of her words were -slowly filtering to his brain. Then, letting his implement fall with a -little clatter, he shuffled back towards his daughter and stood again -gazing at her, his lips moving noiselessly, his eye dim and troubled. -Master Simon’s mind, trained to such alertness in dealing with a certain -set of ideas, groped like that of a child in the endeavour to lay hold -of the new living problem. - -At length he put out a trembling finger and timidly laid it for a second -on her hand. She looked up at him with an altered expression, infinitely -soft and womanly. - -“I am afraid,” said he quickly, as if ashamed of the breakdown of his -own philosophy, “I am afraid you have suffered, my girl.” - -“I never complained while it lasted,” she answered. “I shall not -complain now that it is over.” - -He gathered the skirts of his gown more closely about him and regarded -her from under his shaggy eyebrows with an expression of deadly -earnestness in singular contrast with his appearance. - -“You spent long nights in tears, child, longing for the sound of his -step?” - -“How do you know?” she answered, flashing at him. - -“Your mother did,” he sighed. - -There fell a heavy pause, during which Belphegor sang with the simmering -phials a quaint duet as fine as a gossamer thread. - -“Until the morning dawned, when I dreaded the sound of that step,” said -the widow at last. - -Master Simon frowned more deeply. New wrinkles gathered on his -countenance. - -“A worthless fellow! A wastrel, a gambler, a reprobate! And you doing -your wife’s part of screening and mending, nursing and paying. Aye, aye, -I know it all. It was your mother’s fate.” - -“And did my mother get cursed for her pains, and struck?” - -The old man started as if the word had indeed been a blow. - -“Ah, no,” he cried sharply. “Ah, no, not that, never that!” - -Ellinor came close and laid her hands on his shoulders. - -“Bad enough, God knows,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Heedless and -selfish—but that, never!” - -She looked at him, long and tenderly. When she spoke her tones and words -were as full of deliberate comfort as her touch. - -“Father,” she said, “compare yourself no more to that man. Your mind and -his—what his was—are as the poles asunder. My mother’s life and mine, as -Heaven and Hell. I did my duty to the end: whilst he lived, I lived by -his side. He is dead—let him be forgotten! Life, surely, is not all -bitterness and ashes,” she added a little wistfully. Then, with a return -of brightness: “I have come back to you. I don’t know what I should have -done if I had not had you. But here I am. This is the opening hour of my -new life!” - -The clock, in its dumb way, struck the hour of ten. - -“Surely, father,” said Ellinor suddenly, “one of your little pots is -rocking!” - -There was a spirt of aromatic steam, in the midst of which white head -and golden head bent together over the furnace; and young eyes and old -eyes, so strangely alike, were fixed upon the boiling mysteries of the -pharmacopic experiment. An adroit question here, a steadying touch there -of those admirable hands and Master Simon, forgetting all else, began to -direct and once more to explain—explain with an eager flow of words very -different indeed from his disjointed solitary talk. - - -Chemistry or alchemy—how were the whimsical old student’s laboratory -pursuits to be described? Chemist he was undoubtedly, by exactness of -knowledge; but alchemist, too, by the visionary character of his -scientific enthusiasm, though he himself derided the suggestion. - -“Powder of projection? Nonsense, nonsense!” he would have cried. “Not in -the scheme of our world. Much use to mankind if gold became cheaper than -lead!... Elixir of Life? Again preposterous! Given birth, death is -Nature’s law.... But pain and premature decay—ah, there opens quite -another road!—that is the physician’s province to conquer. And if one -seeks but well enough for the _panacea_, the _universal anodyne_, the -true _nepenthes_, eh, eh, who knows? Such a thing is undoubtedly to be -found. Doubtless! Have we not already partially lifted up the veil? -_Opium_ (grandest of brain soothers!) and _Jesuit’s Bark_ and the -_Ether_ of Frobœnius, and Sir Humphry’s _laughing gas_! Yet those are -but partial victors; the All-Conqueror has yet to be discovered.” - -Such a discovery Master Simon (who was first of all a botanist) had -settled in his mind was to be made in the veins of some plant or other; -and, therefore, with all the ardour of the student of mature years -racing against Time, he now devoted all his energies to this special -branch of investigation. Hence, perhaps the forgotten title of “simpler” -was the most appropriate to this follower of Boerhaave and Hales. In the -absorbing delight of his hobby he was given to experiment recklessly -upon himself as well as upon others, after the method of that other -fervent student of old, Conrad Gessner; and whatever the result, noxious -or beneficent, he generally found in it confirmation of some theory. - -“If the juices of certain herbs can produce melancholia, or the fury of -madness, or idiocy, why should we not find in others the soothing of -oblivion, or the stimulus to exalted thought, or the spur of genius? Why -not,” he would say, “But life’s so short, life’s so short....” - - -The door was opened noiselessly. Barnaby, the _famulus_, clutching the -tray, stood staring, open mouthed, in upon them. - -“Hang that boy!” said Master Simon testily and, pretending not to notice -the interruption, proceeded with his disquisition on the admirable -things he meant to extract from Camphire or Henne-weed. - -“Is that all they give you for supper, father?” - -She had walked up to the tray which had been deposited on a corner of -the table. - -“A jug of ale!” she exclaimed with disfavour. “Small-ale—and sour at -that, I’ll be bound!” She poured a few drops into the tumbler, sipped -and grimaced. “Pah! Bread—heavy and yesterday’s. Cheese! Last year’s, I -should say—and simply because the mice wouldn’t have any more of it!” -Indignation rose within her as she compared this treatment of her father -with memories of Bindon’s hospitality in bygone days. “And an apple!” -she added, with scathing precision. - -“Most wholesome,” suggested the simpler, deprecating interference. - -“Wholesome!” she snorted. “Upon the theory of the dangers of -over-eating, I suppose! And what a jug—what a tumbler!” - -“Barnaby is rather clumsy,” apologised his master. “Apt to break a good -deal. So I, it was I, begged Mrs. Nutmeg to provide us with stout ware.” - -“What old Margery!—old Margery Nutmeg still here!” A shadow fell upon -Ellinor’s face—the next moment it was gone. “Ugh! How I always hated -that woman! I had forgotten all about her. It is a way I have: I forget -the unpleasant! Well!” with a laugh, “now I understand. But I’ll warrant -her well-cushioned frame is not supported upon the diet of wholesomeness -meted out to you! Heavens! but what is this dreadful little mess in the -brown bowl?” - -“Belphegor’s supper,” answered his master with rebuking gravity. - -“They treat him no better than they do you, father!” - -She paused, took the edge of the tablecloth between her taper finger and -thumb and thrust out a disdainful lip. - -“What a cloth! Not even quite clean!” - -“Mrs. Nutmeg has limited us. Barnaby has an unfortunate propensity for -upsetting things,” humbly interposed the philosopher. - -“Then Barnaby, whoever he is, ought to be soundly trounced,” asserted -Mrs. Marvel. - -She wheeled round on the boy, who still stared at her with round -eyes—but her father laid an averting hand upon her arm. - -“Hush,” he said, inconsequently lowering his voice, “the poor lad is -deaf and dumb.” - -“Deaf and dumb, your servant?” - -Fresh amazement sprang to her face, succeeded by a lightening -tenderness. - -“He suits me, child,” cried the old man, hurriedly. “Pray do not -attribute to me any foolish philanthropy, I’m a——” - -She interrupted him with a gay note: - -“A mass of selfishness, of course—Who could doubt it, who knew you an -hour? Well, I am a mass of selfishness, too. Oh, I am your own daughter, -as you’ll discover for yourself very soon! And such frugality as Master -Simon is made to practise will never suit Mistress Ellinor. Can your -appetite for these, these wholesome things, bide half an hour, father?” - -Without awaiting the answer, she placed Belphegor’s portion on the -floor, handy to his convenience, then whisked up the tray, bestowed a -nod and a radiant smile upon Barnaby (that made him her slave from -henceforth) and briskly left the room. Barnaby automatically followed. - -Master Simon rubbed his bald head and tugged at his beard. Belphegor was -stamping on the hearth rug with a monstrous hump and bristling tail, -preparatory to addressing himself to his supper. - -“So here we are, with a female about us after all, my cat! But she seems -an exceptionally reasonable person—quite a remarkable woman.” - -His eye fell on the notes of his experiment, and a crinkling smile -spread upon his countenance. “There is something about the touch of a -woman’s hand,” he murmured, and promptly became absorbed again. - - -“I have not been very long, have I?” said Ellinor, when in due course -she returned, followed by Barnaby with a tray. - -The student lifted his hand warningly without withdrawing his eyes from -his array of figures. - -“Never fear,” said she, “your table shall be sacred.” - -She fetched a large round stool and motioned to Barnaby to deposit his -burden thereon. It was a tray of mightily increased dimensions, graced -with damask (a little yellow, perhaps, from the long hoarding, but fine -and pure), laden with cut crystal, with purple and gold china. The light -of a pair of silver candlesticks gleamed on the red of wine, on the -flowery whiteness of bread, on the engaging pink of wafer slices of ham -and the firm primrose roll of a proper housewife’s butter. - -“Shall we not sup?” said Mistress Marvel. - -She poured into the diamond-cut glass a liquor of exquisite fragrance -and colour, and placed it in her father’s hand. And, as he raised it to -his lips almost unconsciously, a faint glow, like the spectre of the -ruby in his glass, crept upon the pallor of his cheek. - -“What is this?” he exclaimed, in interested tones, holding out the -beaker to the light. - -“Not small-ale!” laughed she. “Not small beer whatever it be! I have -seen,” she added musingly, whilst her father contemplated her with -astonishment, “I have seen strange things at Bindon since I arrived this -evening, and could scarce obtain admittance in the unlit courtyard, (old -watchman Willum recognised me, that was at least something). At the -front door, dark, cold, forbidding, not one servant in attendance! I had -to enter the house like a thief, by the back ways. It seems like a house -under a spell! Ah, very different from the Bindon of old! But I have -seen nothing stranger than the servants’ hall, whither Barnaby took me -in silence—a good lad, your Barnaby,” and she cast a friendly glance -over her shoulder at the still figure behind her. “I don’t know,” she -resumed, taking up the fork, “whether they treat David as they treat -you, his cousin, but they look well after themselves!” - -She laughed, but a colour of anger had mounted again to her brow. - -“Margery is away, it seems; so old Giles tells me. He was bringing up -the wine for supper. Are you listening, father? Wine for the servants’ -supper! And lighting these candlesticks! And if they consider cheese and -ale good enough for you, do not think they misunderstand the meaning of -good cheer. So we made the raid—and here you have some of their fare. -Drink sir!” - - - - - CHAPTER V - QUENCHLESS STARS ELOQUENT - - O, who shall tell what deep inspirèd things - Thou speakest me, when, tranquil as the skies, - O Night, I stand in shadow of thy wings, - And with thy robe of suns fulfil mine eyes! - —E. SWEETMAN (_The Star-Gazer_). - - -It is no unusual thing for a man whom human love has betrayed and left -bare; whose life some violent human passion has robbed of all savour, to -turn for consolation to the things of heaven. This is what, in course of -time, had befallen Sir David Cheveral, when his youthful dream of -happiness had fled before a bitter awakening. But the heaven to which he -had turned was not that “Realm beyond the Stars” pictured by the faith -of ages, but that actual region above and about our globe, as mysterious -a world, perhaps, and as little heeded by the bulk of mankind; that -immensity peopled by other suns and earths, ruled by a harmony so vast -and grandiose that the thought of centuries is but beginning to grasp -it; that universe of space and time, as unfathomable to our finite -groping senses and as appealing to imagination and reason both as any -realm of eternity pictured by the poets of any creed! - -The worlds outside the earth, then, seemed for years to have given to -his desolate spirit, gradually and absorbingly, all that the world of -earth has in different ways to give to man. - -The dome of heaven was David Cheveral’s mistress. To his phantasy, a -mistress ever variable and ever loved; whether chastely remote, ridden -by the fine silver crescent, emblem of virginity; or passionate, -low-brooding, full-mooned and crimson, pregnant with autumn promise; or -yet high and cold, in winter magnificence, sparkling with the jewels -that are beyond dreams of splendour; or yet again veiled and -indifferent; or stormy, cloud-wracked with the anger of the gods; -condescending now with exquisite intimacy, anon passing as irrevocably -as Diana from her shepherd. Who that had once loved such a mistress -could ever turn back to one of earth again? So thought the star-dreamer -of Bindon. - -And this esthetic passion was at the same time his art and his -life-work. It filled not only heart, but mind. Endless was the lesson to -be learned, opening the road endlessly to others; untiring the labour to -be expended; his own the genius to divine, to grasp, to translate; and -his also every gratification, every reward! So thought the star-dreamer. -He had drifted into a life of study and contemplation as solitary men -drift into eccentricity; and if in its all absorbing tendency there -lurked madness of a sort, there was a harmonious method in it; and to -him, at least (precious boon!), it spelt peace of soul. - -Every day’s work of such a study meant a fresh conquest of the mind, -noble and peaceful. Mighty conceptions unfolded themselves to an -ever-soaring intellect and thrust back more and more the pigmy doings of -this small earth into their proper insignificance. Meanwhile his sight -was rejoiced with beauty ever renewed. The music of the spheres played -its great harmonies to his fastidious ear; the rhythm of a universal -poetry, too exquisite to find expression in mere words, settled upon a -mind ever attuned to vastness, till the drab miseries of humanity seemed -well-nigh fallen away, and the petty fret of everyday life, the chafing, -the disillusion, the smart of pride, the cry of the senses, were as -forgotten things.—His soul was filled with visions. - - -Now on this evening, while Master Simon in his laboratory underground -was being called by unexpected claims from his own line of abstraction, -something equally startling had occurred to Sir David Cheveral in his -observatory. - -He was pacing his airy platform on the top of the keep, under an -exquisite and pensive sky of most benign charity. Never had he felt -himself more uplifted to the empyrean, more detached from a sordid -world, than at the beginning of this watch. Deep beyond deep spread the -blue vasts above him. As the lover knows the soul of his beloved, so his -vision, unaided, pierced into the heart of mysteries that even through -the telescope would be veiled to the neophyte. - -Upon her moonless brow this autumnal night wore a coronal of stars that -might have shamed her later glories. The Heavenly Twins and Giant Orion -beginning the southward ascent in splendid company; Aldebaran, fiery-red -eye of the Bull; the tremulous pearly sheen of the Pleiades; the grand, -upright cross of Cygnus, planted in the very stream of the Milky Way, -and, slowly sinking towards the West, the gracious circlet of the -Northern Crown—when had Night’s greater jewels shone with more -entrancing lustre upon the diaper of her endless lesser gems! - -David Cheveral turned from one field of beauty to another; anon -reckoning his treasures with a jealous eye, anon letting the vast beauty -mirror itself in his soul as in a placid pool. - -But rapture is ever tracked by fatigue: it seems to be an envious, -miserly law of our finite nature that every spell of exaltation must be -paid for by despondency. Melancholy is but the weariness either of mind -or of body: often of both. The airs were variable and cold, and food had -not passed his lips for many hours; yet he had no conscious hankering -for the warm hearthstones beneath him; no conscious desire for the touch -of a fellow hand or the sound of a human voice. But, by slow degrees -there crept upon him an unwonted and profound sadness. - -A familiar catch-phrase of Master Simon’s:—“And life’s so short! and -life’s so short!”—had begun to haunt his thoughts, to whisper in his -ear, lulled though it was by the voice of solitude. A sense of his own -limitations before this illimitable began to oppress him. So much beauty -and but one sense with which to possess it: but weak mortal eyes and an -imperfect vision, inferior even to that of many an animal! To feel -within oneself the intellect, the power to conceive the creations of a -God, and to know that one’s ignorance was still as vast as the field of -knowledge offered ... the pity of it! With every gracious night such as -this to glean a little more of the rich harvest—and life so short that, -were one to live a cycle beyond the allotted span, the truth garnered in -the end would be but as motes glinting here and there in floods of -light! - -Such revolts give way to lassitude. The useless “Why?” is inevitably -succeeded by the “_Cui bono?_” - -The astronomer who was too much of a poet—the star-dreamer, as men -called him—drew a deep sigh. He had been tempted from his self-allotted -task of calculation as a lover may be tempted to dally in adoration of -his beloved. He now turned to go back to his table, but as he did so was -once more arrested in spite of himself by the fascination of the great -dome. - -As it is the desire of man to possess what he finds most beautiful, so -is it the instinct of the poet, of the painter, of the musician, to -express and give again to the world the captured ideal.—The pain of -impotency clutched at the dreamer’s heart. - -But of a sudden he started; his sad eyes became alert and fixed.—An -event that happens but at rarest times in the history of human -observation had taken place under his very gaze. - -A new gem had been added to the splendours of the heavens! - -His languid pulses beat quicker. He passed his hand across his brow; no, -it was not the overworked student’s hallucination! Did he not know every -aspect of the constellation, of the evening, of the hour? Sooner might a -woman miscount her jewels, a collector his treasures, than he misread -the face of his idol! It was no fancy. There, above the Northern Crown, -a new star—a fire of surpassing radiance had flashed out of his sky even -at the moment of his looking. - -He had seen it suddenly blossoming, as if it were into his own garden, -like a magic flower from some hidden bud. An unknown light had pulsed -into existence where darkness hitherto had reigned. - -A new star had been born! His soul caught up the fire of its brilliance. -It was as if his transient faithlessness had been beautifully rebuked; -his faintness of heart driven forth by a glance of his beloved’s eyes. -Nay, it was as if, in some fashion, his mystic espousal had brought -forth life. To him had been given what is not given to man once in a -cycle—to receive the first flash of a world! - -Inexpressibly stirred, filled with enthusiasm, he hurried to his -instruments and with eager hand turned the great lenses upon the -apparition. - -Out of the chasm of those inconceivable spaces—from the first -contemplation of which, it is said, the neophyte recoils with something -like terror—broke, swirling, the splendour of a star where certainly no -star had ever been seen before. _His star!_ Breaking from the darkness, -it sailed across the field of his vision, radiant, sapphire, gorgeously, -exquisitely blue! - - -To every man who lives more in the spirit than in the flesh there come -moments when the _afflatus_ of the gods seems to descend upon him; -moments of intuition, inspiration or hallucination, when he sees things -not revealed to the ordinary mortal. What, in his sudden exalted mood, -David Cheveral saw that night was never vouchsafed to him again. It was -beyond anything he could ever put into words; almost, in saner moments, -he shrank from putting it into thought. - -When at length he descended from his altitudes and touched earth again, -though still as in a trance, he entered a record of the discovery on his -chart. Every student of the heavens knows that a new star is oftener -than not temporary and may fade away as mysteriously as it has blazed -forth. His next care, although it was against his habits to invite the -company of his fellow creature, was instinctively to seek another -witness to the event. - -However man may cut himself adrift from his kin, the impulses of his -nature remain ever the same in critical moments. A joy is not complete -until it is shared; a triumph is savourless until it is acclaimed. - - -He was still dazed from the strain of watching, from the gloom of the -black tower stairs and of the long unlit passages when he reached the -basement rooms that were Master Simon’s province at Bindon. - -Pushing open the heavy oaken door, he stood a moment looking in. - -There was cheerful candle-gleam where he was wont to find dimness; a gay -sound of laughter and words where silence used to reign; and instead of -Master Simon’s bent grey head, there rose before his sight, haloed with -light, so white and pure as almost to seem luminous itself, a young -forehead set in a radiance of crisp, fiery-gold hair. His eyes -encountered the beam of two unknown eyes, exquisitely blue. Blue as his -star! - -And he thought he still saw visions; thought that his star had as -suddenly and sweetly taken living shape here below as above in the -unattainable skies. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - EYES, BLUE AS HIS STAR - - ——Dwelt on my heaven a face - Most starry-fair, but kindled from within - As ’twere with dawn! - —TENNYSON (_The Lover’s Tale_). - - -On the new-comer’s entrance Ellinor looked up. The smile was arrested on -her lips and her eyes grew grave with wonder: there was something -curiously unsubstantial, something almost fantastic in the man that -stood thus, framed in the gaping darkness of the doorway. - -That pale head, refined to ætherealisation, with its masses of dense, -black hair; that straight figure, unusually tall and seeming taller -still by reason of its exceeding leanness, romantically draped in the -folds of a sable-lined cloak; above all, those eyes, under penthouse -brows, singularly light and luminous in spite of their deep-setting, -gazing straight at her, through her and beyond her—the eyes of the -dreamer, or rather of the seer! In her surprise she failed for the -moment to connect with this apparition the forgotten identity of the -“cousin David” she had known in her girl days; the smooth-cheeked -lad—dandy, fox-hunter, poet, politician—but in every phase, image of -assertive and satisfied youth. - -Master Simon broke the spell of the singular moment. - -“Ah, David,” quoth he, “dazed—moonstruck as usual? Awake, good dreamer, -awake! There have been fine happenings here below while you were -frittering God’s good time, blinking at your stars!” - -He rose from his seat and shuffled round the table with quite unusual -alertness. A glass of the vintage served to him by his daughter had -brought a transient fire into the sluggish veins. As he tapped David on -the arm, the latter turned his abstracted gaze upon him with a new -bewilderment: the bloodless simpler, with a pink glow upon his cheek, -with skull-cap rakishly askew on his bald head, with a roguish gleam in -his usually keenly-cold eye—unwonted spectacle! - -“We’ve done great things to-night,” repeated the old gentleman -excitedly. “That experiment, David, successfully carried through at -last! It is exactly as I surmised—you remember? The Geranium of the -Hottentot, Fabricius’ plant and our Ivy here—contain the same principle! -Ah, that was worth finding out, if you like!” - -His bony fingers beat a triumphant tattoo on David’s motionless arm. - -“What do you say to that?” insisted Master Simon. - -The astronomer was still silent. The light in his eyes had faded; but -they brightened again when he brought them back upon Ellinor. This time, -however, they were less distant, less dreamily amazed, more humanly -curious. - -“And I have drunk wine,” pursued Master Simon. An unctuous chuckle ran -through his ancient pipe. “Ichor from the veins of a noble plant, _Vitis -Vinifera_, David, compounded of dew and earth juices, sublimated by -sunshine.... Beautiful cryptic processes!” He paused, closed his eyes -over the inward vision, and then added with solemn simplicity: “It is -chemically richer, that’s obvious, I may say it is altogether superior -as a cerebral stimulant to table-ale. That was her opinion.” He jerked -his thumb in the direction of Ellinor. “And I endorse it.... I endorse -it. She——” - -“She?” interrupted Sir David. His voice was deep and grave, and Ellinor -then remembered vaguely that even as a child she had liked the sound of -it. A new flood of old memories rushed back upon her; she rose to her -feet and came forward quickly, stretching out both her hands: - -“Cousin David, don’t you know me?” - -“To be sure,” cried her father gaily, “I have been extremely remiss. -This is Ellinor, our little Ellinor. Shake hands with Ellinor. She’s -come to stay here. So she says.” - -He stopped upon the phrase and pulled at his beard, flinging a quick, -doubtful look at the master of the house. “I told her we, neither of us, -are good company for women that—in fact, it is impossible for thinking -men, such as we are, to have a high opinion of her sex, but”—he waved -his arm with a magisterial gesture—“I have already discovered, and you -know my diagnoses are habitually correct, that my daughter is an -unusually intelligent, sensible person, and that we might no doubt both -benefit by her company.” - -“If cousin David will allow me to stay,” said Ellinor gently. - -She was standing quite motionless in the same attitude, her hands -outstretched, bending a little forward, her face slightly uplifted—for -tall as she was she had to look up to meet her cousin’s eyes. Repose was -so essentially one of her characteristics, that there was nothing -suggestive either of awkwardness or of affectation in this arrested -poise of impulsive gesture. - -The heavy cloak fell from David as he unfolded his arms and, hardly -conscious of what he was doing, slowly took both her hands. Her fingers -closed upon his in a grasp that felt warm and firm. - -“That’s right,” said Master Simon. “Why, you were big brother and little -sister in the old days. Kiss her David.” - -The magic Burgundy was still working wonders; for the moment this old -fantastic being had gone back thirty years in geniality, in humanity. -“Kiss her, David,” he repeated. - -The dark and pale face of Sir David, severe yet gentle, bent over -Ellinor. - -Half-laughing, half-startled, yet with a feminine unwillingness to be -the one to attach importance to a cousinly greeting, she turned her -cheek towards him. But the kiss of the recluse, was—she never knew -whether by design or accident—laid slowly upon her half-opened, smiling -lips. - - -Had anyone told Ellinor Marvel who, during four years had cried at love -and during six years more had railed at it, that her heart would ever be -stirred in the old, sweet mad way because of the touch of a man’s lips, -she would, in superb security, have scorned the suggestion. Yet now, -when she turned away, it was to hide a crimsoning face and a quickening -breath. - -Nay, such a flutter, as of wild birds’ wings, was in her breast, that -she vaguely feared it could not escape the notice even of Master Simon’s -happy abstractedness. - -When she again looked at his kinsman, she found that he had been pressed -into a chair beside hers; and that her father, with guileless -hospitality, was forcing upon his host a glass of his own choice -vintage. - -But, as she looked, she thought she could note a flush, kindred to her -own, slowly fading from David’s forehead, and, in the hand he extended -passively for the glass, ever so slight a trembling. The next moment she -was full of doubt: his reserve seemed complete, his presence almost -austere. And she blushed again, for her own blushes. - -As if to a silent toast, Sir David drained the goblet; then turning his -eyes upon her: - -“You are welcome, Ellinor,” he said. - -The young widow started at the words, and her discomposure increased. -There occurred to her for the first time a sense of the strange position -in which she had placed herself; of her impertinence in thus coolly -announcing her intention of taking up her residence at Bindon, without -even the formality of asking its owner’s leave. But after listening a -while to the disjointed conversation that now had become engaged between -her father and David, the quaintness and sweetness of the relationship -between the two men—the unconscious manner in which such whole-hearted -hospitality was bestowed and received without any sense of obligation on -one side, or of generosity on the other, struck her deeply, and brought -at once a smile to her lips and a mist to her eyes. - -“To every law there are special exceptions,” remarked Master Simon, -sententiously. “David may be quite convinced that I should not have -entertained the idea of permitting any ordinary young person of the -opposite sex to take up her abode under our studious roof. But a few -moments have convinced me, as I said before, that Ellinor may be classed -among the abnormal—the abnormal which, as you know, David, can be -typically represented as well by the double-hearted rose as by the -double-headed calf.” He paused to enjoy the conceit, then insisted: -“Represented, I say, by the beautiful no less than by the monstrous.” - -“By the beautiful indeed,” echoed the astronomer. - -Ellinor glanced at him quickly. But his gaze, though fixed upon her -eyes, was so abstracted, that she could not take the words to herself. - -Altogether her cousin’s personality baffled her. He had not been one -minute beside her, before, in her woman’s way, she had noted every -detail of his appearance; noted, approved, and wondered. - -This recluse, indeed, seemed to bestow the most fastidious care on his -person. At a glance she had marked the long, slender hands, white and -shapely, the singularly fine linen, the fit and texture of the sombre -clothes of a past mode that clung to his spare, but well-knit limbs. The -contrast between this choiceness, which would not have misfitted a dandy -of the Town, and his dreamer’s countenance offered a problem which was -undoubtedly fascinating. - -There was also something of pride of blood in her approval of his -high-bred air; and, at the same time, a sufficient consciousness of the -remoteness of their kinship to make the memory of his lips upon hers a -troubling one. Added to this, there was a baffling impression in the -atmosphere of apartness from the world which enwrapped him. His -eyes—what did they see as they looked at her so long, so straight? Not -the living Ellinor: no man could so look on a woman, as man on woman, -without passion or effrontery! Not once had he smiled. With all his -courtesy—a courtesy that sat on him as becomingly as his garments—hardly -had he noticed her ministration to plate or glass. The carelessness, -also, with which he accepted her arrival, without an inquiry as to its -cause, without the smallest show of interest in her past and present -circumstances, stirred her imagination, whilst it vexed her vanity. - -“I believe,” she thought, “he has even forgotten I have ever been -married. Nay I vow,” thought she, a little amused, a good deal piqued, -“it is a matter of serene indifference to cousin David whether I be -maid, wife, or widow!” - -“Ellinor, my girl,” said the old man, pushing his plate from him, “this -sort of thing is well enough for once in a way, and more particularly as -my work, thanks to your timely assistance, is concluded for the night. -But I must not be tempted to such an abandonment to the appetites -another evening!” - -“Very well, father,” answered she demurely, while a dimple crept out, as -she surveyed his unfinished slice of ham and the fragments of his bread. - -“As to the wine,” pursued he, “it is another matter. I will not deny -that wine, producing this pleasant exhilaration (were it not accompanied -by the not disagreeable langour which I now feel, and which is the -result of my own self-indulgence) might stimulate the brain to greater -lucidity than does the usual liquor provided by Mrs. Nutmeg. It is quite -possible,” he went on, leaning back in his chair while the lamplight -played on the shrunken line of his figure, on the silver beard, and the -diaphanous countenance. “It is quite possible that even as the plant -requires sun-rays to produce its designed colour, so the veins of man -may require this distillation of sun-heat and sun-light to liberate to -the utmost his potential forces. David, we may both be the better of -this drinkable sunshine!” - -As he spoke, he meditatively sipped and gazed at the glass which his -daughter had unobtrusively refilled. - -The astronomer had been crumbling the white bread and eating and -drinking much in the same frugal and half unconscious manner as the -simpler; it seemed as if spirits so attuned to secluded paths of thought -could scarce condescend to notice the material needs. - -But upon Master Simon’s last remark, Sir David put down his beaker. - -“Drinkable sunshine!” he cried, the light of the enthusiast leaped into -his eye. He rose from the table as he spoke. “Ah, cousin Simon, I have -this night drunk into my soul its fill of creating light.” - -“Pooh! With your cold stars,” scoffed the simpler, once more eyeing the -gorgeous colour of the wine against the light. - -“The sun that raises from the soil and vivifies your plants, that gives -the soul to the wine you are drinking, is one of the lesser stars,” said -the astronomer gravely. “The countless stars you deem so cold are suns—I -have to-night watched the birth of a new distant world of fire.” - -“Ah,” commented the other, calmly scientific. “A phenomenon, like -Ellinor here, rare, but possible.” - -“I came down to tell you, to bring you back with me to see it,” David -continued, and Ellinor could detect the exaltation of his thoughts in -manner and voice. “Come, master of the microscope and of the test-tube, -come and see the new star. Come and witness such a wonder as those -microscopes, those crucibles will never show you.” - -“My good young friend,” exclaimed the aged student, “while you, through -your astrolabes, watch the revolving, the fading and growing of systems -which you can neither control nor make use of, I, through those second -eyes and those regulated fires, not only learn for the great benefit of -science at large, the workings of the atoms that absolutely rule, nay, -compose all life here below, but I can direct and guide them in one -direction, neutralise or stimulate them in another, make them in short -bring good or evil to humanity. I delight my own brain, but I also -benefit the vast, suffering body of my kind.” - -“The body, the body!” repeated the other, at once sweetly and -contemptuously but still with the fire in his eye. - -On his side Master Simon chuckled and rubbed his hands over his -irrefutable arguments. - -Then Sir David said again, almost as if he had not before proffered the -request: - -“Come, cousin, I want you to look at my new star.” - -“Not I,” laughed Master Simon, tossing down the last drop of his second -glass with the quaintest air of “abandonment,” wrapping his faded gown -about him and folding himself in it as in a mantle of luxurious egotism. -“Not I? Shall I spoil all these excellent impressions and bring my poor -old bones back to a sense of age and infirmity by dragging them up your -cold stairs to the top of your tower, there to stand in your draughty -box and let all the winds of heaven find out my weak points—for the -pleasure of gaping at a speck of light than which this lamp here is not -less handsome, while immeasurably more useful? No, Sir David!” - -Ellinor laid her hand upon her cousin’s arm. - -“May I come?” - -She spoke upon the true feminine impulse which cannot bear to see the -avoidable disappointment inflicted; a feeling which men, and wisely, -cultivate not at all in their commerce with each other. - -David, again back in spirit with the heavens, turned upon her much the -same look he had given her upon his first entrance. Then, as he stood a -second, to all outward appearance impassive and detached, a curious -feeling as of the realisation of some beautiful dream took possession of -his senses. The fragrant breath of the distilled and sublimated herbs, -“yielding up their little souls, good little souls!” in aromatic -dissolution, filled his nostrils as with an extraordinary meaning. The -sound of his kinswoman’s voice, the touch of her hand, the subtle, -out-of-door freshness of her presence in this warm room—all these things -struck chords that had long been silent in his being. And the glance of -her eyes! It was as blue as his star! - -He took her fingers with a certain grace of gesture, born it might be of -the forgotten minuets of his adolescent days, and prepared to lead her -forth. But at the door he paused. - -“As your father says, it is cold upon my tower.” - -So speaking, he placed upon her shoulders his own cloak of furs. And, as -he drew the folds together under her chin, their eyes met again. She -looked very young and very fair. For the first time that evening he -smiled. - -“Big brother and little sister!” he said. - -Now, for some reason which at the moment Ellinor would stoutly have -refused to define even to herself, the words were in no way such as it -pleased her to hear from his lips. But the smile that lit up the -darkness and austerity of his countenance like a ray of light, and -altered its whole character into something indescribably gentle, went -straight to her heart and lingered there as a memory sweet and rare. - -Master Simon watched the door close upon them with an expression at once -humourous and philosophically disapproving. Belphegor, sharpening his -claws on the hearthrug, glanced up at his master with a soundless mew, -as after all these distractions and disturbances the well-known quiet -muttering fell again upon the air. - -“I took her for the _rara avis_,” said the old man to himself, “but, I -fear me, what I thought at first was the black swan may prove but a -little grey goose after all! handmaid to that poor loony, with his -circles and degrees as to assist me—me! And after displaying such an -intelligent interest, too ...! Alas, my cat, ’tis but a woman!” - - - - - CHAPTER VII - NEW ROADS UNFOLDING - - The stars at midnight shall be dear - To her; and she shall lean her ear - In many a secret place ... - And beauty born of murmuring sound - Shall pass into her face. - —WORDSWORTH (_Lyrical Poems_). - - -The first hour which Ellinor spent with David, uplifted from the gloomy -earth into the bosom of the night—they were so unutterably alone, amid -the sleeping world with the great, watchful company of the stars!—was -one, she knew, that would alter the whole course of her life; the pearly -colour of which would thenceforth tint her every emotion. - -Not indeed that one word, one touch, one look even of his could lead her -to believe she had made on the man anything approaching the impression -that she herself had felt. On the contrary, the apartness which had been -noticeable even under the genial circumstances of the meal shared -together in the light and warmth of Master Simon’s room became -intensified when they entered the solitude, the mystic atmosphere of his -high, silent retreat. - -And yet she knew that she would not by one hair’s breadth have him -different! In the whirlpool of the fast existence into which, like a -straw, her young life had been tossed, there was not one man—even during -that early period when “pinks” and “bucks,” undeniable gentlemen, were -her husband’s faithful companions—but would have regarded the situation -as an opportunity that, “as you live,” should be gallantly taken -advantage of. But he—through the long passages of the house, up the -narrow, winding stairs of the tower, he conducted her, for all his -absent-mindedness, as a courtier might conduct his queen! When they -reached the platform of the keep, upon the threshold of the observatory -she tripped up against some unnoticed step, and would have fallen had he -not caught her in his arms. For an instant her bosom must have lain -against his heart, the strands of her hair against his lips; and she -honoured him for the simplicity with which he supported her and gave her -his hand to lead her in. - -A strange apartment, the like of which she had never dreamed, this -chosen haunt of her strange kinsman! Wrapt in the sables that -encompassed her so warmly, her eye wandered, from the dome with its -triangular slit through which a slice of sky looked ineffably remote, to -the fantastic instruments (or so they seemed to her) just visible in the -diffuse light, with gleams here and there of brass or silver, or milky -polish of ivory. - -She watched him move about, now a shadow in the shadow, now with a white -flicker from the lamp upon the pale beauty of his face. She listened in -the deep night’s silence, now to the inexorable dry beat of the -astronomer’s clock, now to the grave music of his voice, as he spoke -words which, for all her comprehension of their meaning, might have been -in an unknown tongue, and yet delighted her ear. - -“There is the mural circle, and yonder my altazimuth. But what I wanted -to show you is to be best seen in this, the equatorial.” - -Under his manipulation the machine moved with a magic softness of -action—the domed roof turning with roll of wheels to let in upon them a -new aspect of space. She reclined, as he bade her, on a couch. He -adjusted the pointing of the mighty lens, and then she made her -initiating plunge into the wonders of the skies. - -First there came as it were upon her the great, black chasm before which -the soul is seized with trembling, the infinitude of which the mind -refuses to grasp—then a point of light or two—little fingers it seemed -pointing to the gulphs—then more and more, a medley of brilliancy, of -colours, torch-red, flaming orange, diamond white, sailing slowly across -the black field; then, dropping straight into her brain, like the fall -of a glorious gem into a pool, carrying its own light as it comes—the -blue glory of Sir David’s new-born star. - - -Ellinor told herself, with a mingling of regret and pride, that since -her soul had received the message of his star she understood David’s -vocation. And, however much she might wish in the coming days to draw -him back to the homely things of earth, she could never be of those now -who mocked or pitied. - -A little later they stood upon the open platform together, and he -pointed out to her the exact place of the marvel that had just been -revealed to her. Again he spoke words of little meaning to her, yet -fraught it seemed in their strangeness with deeper significance than -those of a familiar language; but as she listened it was upon his -transfigured countenance that all her wonder hung. - -“See you, there, by Alphecca. Nay, you are looking at Vega of the -Lyre-Vega the beautiful she is called: no wonder she draws your eyes! -But lower them, Ellinor, and look a shade to the right. Turn to Corona, -the Northern Crown.” - -With the abstraction of the enthusiast, he was quite unconscious that to -her uninitiated ear the names could convey no sense, that to her -uninitiated eye the aspect of the sky could show nothing abnormal. - -“See, there, just to the right of Alphecca—oh, you see, surely, the most -beautiful—my star, virgin to man, to the sight of this earth until -to-night!” - -Still as he looked upward, she looked at him. - -The wind was blustering. The breath of the northwest had swept the -heavens clear before bringing up its own phalanx of cloud and rain. The -complaint of the great woods, far below their feet, rose about them; the -thousand small voices of moving leaf and branch swelling like the murmur -of a crowd into one pervading sound. Ellinor felt as if these voices of -the earth were claiming her while the astronomer’s ears were deaf. - -Whilst they had remained within the observatory she had shared for a -moment some of his own exaltation, heard the mysteries speaking to him, -felt as if each star that struck her vision was in direct and personal -communication with herself. But, once in the open air, as she leant over -the parapet, this sense fell away from her. The heavens were chillingly -remote, and remote was the spirit of their high priest and worshipper. -Indeed he was gradually becoming oblivious of her presence. - -After a prolonged silence she slipped out of his cloak and quietly -placed it upon his own shoulders. He gathered the folds around him, -crossed his arms with the gesture of the man who suffices to himself—all -unconsciously, without even turning his eyes from their far-off -contemplation. - -And so she stole away from him—and sought her father once more. But -finding him peacefully asleep in his high armchair, by a well-heaped -fire and with the dumb _famulus_ in attendance, she made her way through -the deserted, silent house towards her own quarters, a little saddened -in her heart, and yet happy. - -A home-coming strange indeed, but strangely sweet. - - -With the quiet authority that so far had obtained for her all she wanted -this evening, she had, on her arrival, bidden the only servant she could -find prepare the chambers that had been hers in the old days. To these -little gable-rooms, high perched in that wing of the house that -connected it with the ancient keep, she now at last retired. Candle in -hand, she stood still a moment, holding the light above her head, and -dreamily surveyed the place that had known the joyous hopes of her -childhood. There was an odd feeling in her throat akin to a rising sob -of tenderness. - -Then she walked slowly round. It was like stepping back into the past; -like awakening from a fever sleep of pain and toil. - -Home—the reality! The rest was gone—over—of no more consequence than a -nightmare! And yet, interwoven with this quiet sense of comfort and -shelter, was an eager little thread of hope in the new, unknown life -opening before her. - -From her windows she could look up to the faint light of the observatory -at the top of the black mass of the tower; and below it, she knew, the -sheer depth of wall ran down into the dim spaces of the Herb-Garden. She -gazed forth at the heavens. Never before this hour had she seen in its -depths anything but the skies of night or the skies of day; now they -were peopled with marvels. Never could they seem empty or commonplace -again. - -She watched for a moment, musingly, the rounded dome on the distant -platform where to-night she had beheld so much in so short a time; where -even now he was, no doubt still working at his lofty schemes. Then she -tried to peer down through the darkness into her favourite haunt of old, -the Herb-Garden—the garden of healing and poisons, where she had so -disastrously plighted her young troth. - -Shivering a little, for she was wearied with the long journey and the -emotions of the day, and it was late, she drew back, closed the -casements and sat down by the fire. The place was all strange, yet -familiar. The little narrow, carved oak bed, the billowing feather quilt -covered with Indian chintz by Miss Sophia’s own hands, nothing had -changed in this virginal room after so many years but the occupant -herself. There was the armchair with the faded cushions, and there her -own writing table with the pigeon-holes; aye, and the secret drawer -where her lover’s scrawling protestations had been deposited with -trembling fingers.... - -The hand that wrote them—it had since been raised to strike her! And the -precious missives themselves? All that was dust and ashes now; dust and -ashes its memory to Ellinor. Yet it was not all a dream after all; and -yonder stood the little cabinet, lest she forgot! It had a secret look, -she thought, of slyness and mockery. - -She pulled her seat nearer the hearth. A wood fire was sinking into red -embers between the iron dogs. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she gazed -at it, and mused, until the red faded to grey and the grey blanched into -cold lifelessness. - -It was not of the child, of the girl, of the unhappy wife that she now -thought, but of the new roads that opened before the free woman—roads -more alluring, more fantastic in their promise than even the ways in -which her early fancy had loved to roam. - -It was a change indeed from the sordid grey and drab atmosphere of her -recent experiences, to be dwelling once more in this ancient mansion, -the majestic interest of which she had before been too young to realise; -to find herself adopted, with a simplicity that savoured more of the -fairy tale than of these workaday times, accepted as their future -companion by those two unworldly beings, the star-gazing lord of Bindon -and his quaint guardian of old, the distiller of simples. - -Yet it was not the thought of her father’s odd figure and his venerable -head and his droll sallies that occupied her mind with such absorbing -interest as to make her forget the hour, the cold, and her fatigue; in -truth it was the memory of the tall, fur-clad figure, of the white hand, -and the luminous eyes, and the single moment of that smile. Again she -felt upon her lips the touch that had made her heart leap, and again at -the mere thought flushed and shook. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - WARM HEART, SUPERFLUOUS WISDOM - - Of simples in these groves that grow - He’ll learn the perfect skill; - The nature of each herb to know - Which cures and which can kill. - —DRYDEN. - - -When the fame of her housekeeperly prowesses had gained for comely Miss -Sophia Rickart the unexpected offer of parson Tutterville’s hand and -heart—the divine had taken this wise step after many years of -bachelorhood and varied, but always intolerable slavery to “sluts, -minxes, and hags”—like the dauntless woman she was, she resolved to -prove herself worthy of the promotion. - -Although her horizon had hitherto been bounded by duck-pond to the north -and dairy to the south, still-room to the east and linen-cupboard to the -west, she argued that one so admittedly passed mistress in the arts of -providing for her neighbour’s body need have little fear about dealing -with the comparatively simple requirements of his soul! It was, -therefore, after but a short course of study that she claimed to have -graduated from the status of scholar to that of qualified expounder. -Indeed, she was as pungently and comfortably stuffed with undigested -texts and parables as her plumpest roast ducks with sage and onions. - -Before long she began to consider herself, entitled by special grace of -state, to interpret _in partibus_ the will of the Almighty to less -privileged individuals; and, in course of time, the enthusiastic spouse -succeeded in taking the more trivial parish cares almost as completely -off the parson’s hands as those of his household. What if, her flow of -ideas being in excess of memory and understanding, the language of the -Bindon prophetess were on occasions the cause of much secret amusement -to the scholarly gentleman—one sip of her exquisite coffee was -sufficient to re-establish the balance of things! - -“Sophia’s texts will do the villagers quite as much good as mine,” he -used to say, philosophically, and allow himself an extra spell with his -Horace or his _Spectator_, whilst his wife sallied forth upon the path -of war and mission. - -With a large garden hat tied somewhat askew under the most amenable of -her chins, with exuberant ringlets bobbing excitedly round her face, -Madam Tutterville, as old-fashioned Bindon invariably called the -parson’s lady—burst in upon Ellinor’s breakfast the morning after the -latter’s arrival. - -It was a day of alternate moods, now with loud wind voice and -storm-tears lamenting, like Shylock, the loss of its treasures; now, -like prodigal Jessica, tossing the gold shekels into space, making mock -in sunshine of age and sorrow, recklessly hurrying on the inevitable -ruin. - -That Madam Tutterville had on her way been pelted with rain and buffeted -with wind, her curls testified. But Ellinor, as she rose from behind her -table by the open window, had the glory of a fresh sunburst on her hair -and in her eyes. - -She had left her bed early, full of brisk plans which concerned the -greater comfort of her father’s life and were also to reach as far as -her cousin’s tower. But even as she fastened the crisp ’kerchief round a -throat that shamed the cambric with its living white, she had been -handed a note from Master Rickart himself. - -This was pencilled on a slip of paper, one half of which had obviously -been devoted to some fugitive calculations, and which ran therefore in a -curious strain: - - MY DEAR GIRL,—Do not Ash: salts (50) : (20.1722...) - attempt I beg of you, to disturb traces of sulphur but not - me this morning. I shall be gaugeable Calcium as before in - engaged on important work re- the ratio 7.171 5.32 - quiring the undivided attention 7027.001 - which solitude alone can secure. Mem. try in Val. foetida. - -Ellinor read and was dashed, read again and laughed aloud.—Gracious -powers what a pair of eccentrics had her relatives grown into! - -But she was in high spirits, and hope rose in her heart. She was free -from her chains; she was back from her exile, home in England, home in -the dearest spot of that dear island! Her first outlook upon the world -had been into the closes of the Garden of Herbs; and it had been to her -as if the familiar face of a friend had looked back at her unchanged, -yet full of promise. The beauty of the freshly-washed woods (still in -their autumn coats of many colours: from russet to lemon-yellow, from -the vermilion of the turning ash-leaf to the grey-white of the fir -needle), she drew it all into her long-starved soul, even as she -breathed in the wild purity of the air. - -Therefore, as she had sat down to breakfast alone in the gay Chinese -parlour where once Miss Sophia had reigned, the refrain of the song in -her heart was an undismayed, nay, joyous: “Wait, my masters, wait!” - -And therefore, also, as Madam Tutterville walked on to the scene of her -past dominion she found a merry, hungry niece; and she was scandalised, -for she had come armed with texts wherewith to console the widow. - -“‘Him whom he loveth, he blasteth’!” she cried enthusiastically from the -threshold, “‘aye, even to the third and fourth generation’—my afflicted -Ellinor...!” - -She stopped, stared, her manner changed with comical suddenness. - -“Mercy on us, child, I must have been misinformed!” - -“Misinformed, dear aunt!” - -“They told me your husband was dead!” - -Ellinor came forward, kissed the lady on either wholesome cheek, -divested her of her wet shawl and exclaimed at its condition. - -“Tush, child, that is nought. ‘The sun shineth on the evil and the rain -raineth on the just.’ Matthew, my dear.”—Madam Tutterville was on -sufficiently good terms with her authorities to justify a pleasant -familiarity. “They told me,” she repeated, “your husband was dead. I -shall chide cook Rachael for unfounded gossip. What saith Solomon: ‘The -tongue of the wise woman is far above rubies.’” - -Ellinor laughed, then became grave. - -“Oliver is dead,” she said. - -“Dead!” - -The rector’s lady fell into a chair, tossed her hat-strings over her -shoulders, and fixed her light, prominent eyes upon her niece. - -“Your weeds?” she gasped. - -“I do not intend to wear any mourning but this black gown.” - -“Ellinor!” - -“Please, aunt, not another word upon the subject!” - -For yet another outraged, scandalised moment, the spiritual autocrat of -Bindon glared. But the very placidity of Ellinor’s determination was -more baffling than any other attitude could have been to one who, after -all ruled more by opportunity than capacity. - -“‘All flesh is hay,’” she remarked at length, in plaintive tones. “We -shall speak further of this anon. Now tell me what are your intentions -for the future?” - -Ellinor’s eyes and dimples betrayed mischievous amusement. - -“Do you not think, aunt,” she asked, “that Bindon would be the better -for some one who could look after it? The place seems to be going to -rack and ruin!” - -“Alas, my niece, since to a higher sphere I was called forth from this -house, ‘the roaring lion who walketh about has entered in with seven -lions worse than himself.’” - -Ellinor crossed the floor and suddenly surprised her aunt’s dignity by -falling on her knees beside her and hugging her. And, hiding her sunny -head on the capacious shoulder, she made vain efforts to conceal the -inextinguishable laughter that shook her. - -“Why, aunt, why, dear aunt! Oh! Oh! Oh! What has happened since we -parted? You’ve grown so—so learned, so eloquent!” - -Despite the strength of Madam Tutterville’s brain, her heart was never -proof against attack. The clinging, young arms awoke memories and tender -instincts. And while the comments upon her new attainments called a -smile upon her countenance (which made it resemble that of a huge, -complacent baby) she responded to the embrace with the utmost warmth. - -“Eh, Ellinor, poor little girl!” - -“Oh, Aunt Sophia, it’s good to be home again!” - -Once more they hugged; then Ellinor sat back on her heels and Madam -Tutterville resumed, as best she could, the mantle of the prophetess. - -“You see, my dear, it having pleased the Lord to call me into a place or -state of spiritual supererogation, it hath become necessary for me to -frame the tongue according to its vocation.” - -Ellinor nodded, compressing her dimples. - -“My brother Simon and your cousin David—God knows I have done my best -for them! But it is casting pearls before—you know the scriptural -allusion, my dear—to endeavour to raise them to any sense of duty. The -place is indeed going to wrack and ruin. They are no better than -Amalakites and Ephesians. Between David’s star-worshipping on the one -side, like the Muezzin on his Marinet, and your father’s black arts and -other incomprehensible doings in his cave of Adullam, my heart is nearly -broken. And yet, my dear child, I have not failed, as Paul enjoins, with -the word in reason and out of reason. I fear for you, child in this -Topheepot!” - -“Do not fear for me,” cried Ellinor; her voice was caught up by little -titters. “Perhaps,” she added insinuatingly, “if you advise me things -may alter for the better.” - -“Advice shall not fail you.” - -“I shall coax cousin David to let me manage for him.” - -Ellinor was still sitting on her heels. She now looked up innocently at -Madam Tutterville. And Madam Tutterville looked down at her with a -suddenly appraising eye and was struck by a brilliant inspiration over -which, in her determination to keep to herself, she buttoned up her -mouth with much mystery. - -Ellinor had grown—there could be no doubt of that—into a remarkably -handsome woman. There was so much gold in her hair, there were so many -twists and little misty tendrils, that one could hardly find it in one’s -heart to regret that it should so closely verge on the red. It grew in -three peaks and wantoned upon a luminously white forehead. - -“She has the Cheveral eyebrows,” thought the parson’s wife, absently -tracing her own with a plump, approving finger. - -Of the charm of the little straight nose, of the pointed chin, of the -curves of the wide, eager mouth, there could be no two opinions. Nothing -but admiration likewise for the lines of throat and shoulder and all the -rest of the lithe figure on the eve of perfection. It was the beauty of -the rose the day before it ought to be gathered. Madam Tutterville gave -a small laugh, fraught with secret meaning. - -“Amen, child,” said she irrelevantly at last. “Yes, I will have some -corporal refreshment; you may give me a cup of tea. But you will have -your hands full, I can tell you, with that Nutmeg—Oh, what a house of -squanderings and malversations has Bindon become since my days!” - -“I saw something of the state of affairs last night,” said Ellinor, as -she lifted the kettle from the hob on to the fire to boil again and -emptied the contents of the squat teapot into the basin. - -Madam Tutterville watched her with approval. - -“Another girl would have given me cold slop,” she commented internally. -“That husband of hers must have been a brute!” - -“Lord, Lord! I never see brother Simon and cousin David, but what I -think of Jacob’s dream of the lean kine devoured by the fat ones.” Madam -Tutterville, contentedly sipping her tea, had settled herself for a -comfortable gossip. “But, there, so long as David is clothed in purple -and fine linen (I speak fictitiously, child, as regards colour, for I do -not think, indeed, I ever saw David in purple) the servants may rob him -as they please. A strange man—never sees a soul, and yet clothes himself -like a prince. That old sinner Giles goes to London twice a year and -brings back trunks full, all in the fashion of ten years ago. He’ll -never use a napkin twice, Ellinor—he don’t care if he never eats but a -bit of bread or drinks but water, but it must be from the most polished -crystal, the finest porcelain.” - -Ellinor listened without manifesting either amusement or impatience. -When her aunt paused she herself remained silent for a while; then, in a -low voice, she asked: - -“And what then occurred to change his whole life in this manner?” - -Madam Tutterville’s eyes became rounder than ever. She shook her head -with an air of the deepest gravity and importance. - -“Do not ask me, my dear—do not ask me, for I may not reveal it,” she -said. And the next instant the truth leapt from her guileless lips: -“There are only three people here that know the whole secret, and they -never would tell me, no matter how I tried. David himself, your father -and my Horatio.” - -The lady’s countenance assumed a pensive cast, as she reflected upon -this want of conjugal confidence. - -“His marriage was to have been soon after ours,” observed Ellinor -musingly. - -“Aye, child, so it was. But the girl David loved and that Lochore -man—well, well, I can only surmise. But in the end there was devil’s -work, fighting and duelling! David was brought home wounded, mad, and -like to die; and for days and nights, my dear, Simon and Horatio nursed -him between them and would not let any one near him while his ravings -lasted—not even me, think of that! Of course, my love,” she added -comfortably, “it is not that my Horatio has not the highest opinion of -my discretion; but he had to humour David, and he would die rather than -break his word even to a——” She paused, and significantly tapped her -forehead. “Well, well, the poor lad got better at last, and then——Oh, if -it were not true no one could have believed it! Maud, his sister (I -never could endure her, with her bold black eyes and her proud ways), -nothing would serve her but she must marry the very man who all but -murdered her own brother! She became Lady Lochore—that was all she cared -for! Pride was always eating into her! ‘Proud and haughty scorner is her -name, and her proud heart stirreth up strife.’—Proverbs, dear.” - -“And David?” - -“David, when he heard the news, fell into the fever again; worse than -ever. Many was the night Horatio never came home at all, expecting each -morning to be the last! It was a terrible time, but, thank the Lord, he -got well, if well it can be called. And then this kind of thing began. -He withdrew himself completely, no one was ever admitted. Bindon became -a waste and a desert. He cannot forgive, child, and he cannot forget—and -that is the long and the short of it! Horatio has secured an honest -bailiff for the estate, ’twas all he could avail—but, inside, that rogue -Margery Nutmeg reigns supreme! And, upon my soul, if something’s not -done, brother Simon and cousin David will be both fit for bedlam before -the end of the chapter!” - -Here the flow of Madam Tutterville’s eloquence was suddenly checked. She -sniffed, she snorted; there was a rattle of buckram skirts as of the -clank of armour resumed. With finger sternly extended she pointed in the -direction of the window—all the gossip in her again sunk in the apostle. - -Ellinor’s eyes followed the direction of the finger. - -The casement gave upon a green-hedged path that led from one of the -moat-bridges to the courtyards behind the keep. By this path the -villagers were admitted to Bindon House. - -The head of a lame man bobbed fantastically across Ellinor’s line of -vision. This apparition was succeeded immediately by that of a fiery -shock of hair over which met, in upstanding donkey’s ears, the ends of a -red handkerchief folded round an almost equally red expanse of swollen -cheek. The silhouette of a girl holding her apron to one eye next -flitted past. - -“In the name of Heaven,” exclaimed Ellinor, “is the whole of Bindon sick -this morning? And what brings them to the house?” - -“The evil one is still busy among them,” quoth the parson’s wife -oracularly, “and I grieve to say it is your father who is his minister!” - -There was something so irresistibly comic in the angry disorder -noticeable on the face, heretofore so kindly placid, of Madam -Tutterville, that her niece was again overcome by laughter. - -“Do not laugh!” said the lady severely; “‘The mirth of fools is as the -cackle of thorns’—Ecclesiastes—We may all have to laugh one day at the -wrong side of our mouths. I live in fear of a great calamity. There have -been mistakes already!” she added, lowering her voice to a mysterious -whisper, “as Horatio and I know.” - -Ellinor had grown grave again. - -“Even doctors are not infallible,” said she reproachfully. “Is poor -father the minister of evil because he may have made a mistake?” - -“Ah, child, that’s just it! Brother Simon is not a doctor, he is—I don’t -know what he is. He tries his herbs and plants upon the village folk. -They flock to him and swallow his drugs because he bribes them, my love, -by playing on their heathen superstitions about spells and fairies and -bogles and what not. They believe themselves cured because they believe -him to be in league with the powers of darkness—a warlock, Ellinor! Bred -in the bone, alas! Horatio may joke about it, but so long as I have life -I will combat that back-sliding influence. God knows, it is ill and hard -work. I am as the voice of one crying in the wilderness to the locusts -and wild honey, but I’ll not lift my finger from the plough now!” - -She rose. “Come child,” she commanded; and followed by Ellinor, led the -way downstairs and through long passages to a small dairy room, the -window of which gave upon the outer entrance to Master Simon’s -laboratory. - -Here, with tragic gesture, she halted, and bade her niece look forth. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - HEALING HERBS, WARNING TEXTS - - Here finds he on the oak rheum-purging Polypode; - And in some open place that to the sun doth lie - He Fumitory gets, and Eyebright for the eye; - The Yarrow wherewithal he stays the wound-made gore, - The healing Tutsan then, and Plantaine for a sore. - —DRAYTON (_Polyolbion_). - - -The lagging sun of autumn had travelled but a small part of its ascent, -and the green inner courtyard of what was known as “the keep wing” of -Bindon, so stilly enclosed by its three tall walls and the towering -screen of the keep itself, was yet in shadow—not the cheerless, -universal grey of a clouded sky, but the friendly, coloured shadiness -that is the sunshine’s own doing. - -Against the grey stone walls the spreading branches of the blush-rose -trees that had yielded of yore so much sweetness to Ellinor’s childish -grasp, clung, yellowing and now but thinly clad, yet not all dismantled, -with here and there a wan flower or a brave rosebud to bear witness, -like the gems of poor gentility, to past riches. - -The scene, the special savour of wet grass, the fragrant breath of the -dairy were of old familiar to Ellinor; but not so the bench placed upon -the flags alongside the wall, with its row of dismal figures; not so the -businesslike-looking table, whereat, behind a score of gallipots and -phials, a basin of water and a basket full of leaves, stood Master Simon -in his flowing gown. He was gravely investigating through his spectacles -the finger which a boy whimperingly upheld for his inspection. The -while, Barnaby, uncouthly busy, flitted to and fro between his master’s -chair and the steps that led down to the laboratory. - -Ellinor leant out of the window to gaze in surprise. Here, then, was the -work which her father could only pursue in solitude! She now understood -the nature of this branch of his studies: the student was testing upon -the _corpus vile_ of the willing population the virtues of his simples! -“Fortunately,” thought Ellinor, “such remedies can proverbially do but -little harm and often do much good.” And she watched his doings with -amused interest. - -But Madam Tutterville could not look upon them in the same tolerant -spirit. When she had numbered the congregation, she stood a moment with -empurpled cheeks and rounded lips, inhaling a mighty breath of -reprobation, preparatory to launching forth the “word in reason and out -of reason” as soon as she saw her chance. - -“Now, Thomas Lane,” said the unconscious Master Simon impressively, as -he wrapped round the finger a rag smeared with green ointment, “if you -do as I bid you the fairies won’t pinch your poor thumb any more; let me -see it next Tuesday. Who is next?” - -The buxom damsel, whom Ellinor had noted and who still held the corner -of her apron to her eye, advanced and curtseyed. - -“Deborah!” cried Madam Tutterville, recognising with horror one of her -model village maids. - -Master Simon shot a swift glance upwards from under his bushy brows; too -well did he recognise the tones of his sister’s voice. Ellinor had not -deemed him capable of looking so angry; and, unwilling to be associated -with any hostile interference, she moved away quietly from her aunt’s -side, left the room and proceeded to the courtyard itself. She was drawn -thither also by another reason. There is the woman who shrinks from the -sight of sores and wounds; and there is the woman whose sensitiveness -takes the form of longing to lave and bind. She was of the latter. - -When she reached the table the action had briskly begun between Madam -Tutterville and her brother. The artillery on the lady’s side was -characterised rather by rapidity of delivery than by accuracy of aim. -The old man’s replies were few and short, but every shot told. - -Deborah, distracted between awe of the wizard’s cunning and deference to -a reproving yet liberal mistress, stood whimpering between the two fires -of words, her apron making excursions from the sick to the sound eye. -Some of the patients grinned, others looked alarmed. - -“Are ye not afraid of the Judgment?” Madam Tutterville was saying, ever -more fancifully biblical as her wrath rose higher. “So it’s your eye -that’s sore, Deborah! I’m not surprised. Remember how Elijah the -sorcerer was struck blind by Peter!” - -Deborah wailed: - -“Please, ma’am, it wasn’t Peter, it was the cat’s tail!” - -“The cat’s tail, Deborah! There is no truth in thy bones!” - -“Tut, tut!” here interposed Master Simon. “Who bid you go to the cat’s -tail?—Sophia, life is short. You are wasting an hour of valuable -existence. Go away!” - -“’Tis the punishment of the deceitful man,” intoned Madam Tutterville -from her window as from a pulpit, and emphatically pounded the sill. -“‘By their figs ye shall know them!’ This cat’s tail work is the fruit -of the tree of your black art, Simon Rickart, of your unholy necrology!” - -The simpler’s voice cut in like a knife: - -“Who bid you rub your sore eye with a cat’s tail?” - -“Please, sir, please, ma’am, Peter hadn’t anything to say to it, indeed -he hadn’t. But, please, ma’am, it was parson’s brindled cat, and Mrs. -Rachael—that’s the cook at Madam’s, sir—she do tell me nothing be better -for a sore eye than the wiping of it with a brindled cat’s tail. And -please, ma’am, I held him while she did rub my sore eye.” - -“Mrs. Rachael!” - -This was none less than Sophia’s own estimable cook, who read her Bible -as earnestly as Madam herself, and was the stoutest church woman (and -the best cook) in the country; the model, in fact, of Madam -Tutterville’s making. - -Master Simon was deftly laving the inflamed eye. And into the silence -allowed for this startling minute by his sister’s discomfiture he -dropped a few sarcastic words: - -“You are fond of texts, Sophia.—Here is one for you: ‘First cast the -beam out of thine own eye.’ You have an admirable way of applying them, -pray apply this: ‘Cast the sorcery out of thine own kitchen.’ Cats’ -tails, indeed! Now, remember, child! (has anyone got a soft -handkerchief) I am the only proper authorised magician in this county. -If you want magic, come to me and leave Mrs. Rachael and her brindled -receipts severely alone. You understand what I mean; I am Bindon’s -sorcerer as much as parson is Bindon’s parson.” - -Here he seized the silk handkerchief which Ellinor silently offered and -began to fold it neatly on the table. Next, from his basket he selected -certain bright-green leaves of smooth and cool texture. One of these he -clapped over the flaming orb, and tied the silk handkerchief neatly -across it. - -“And with that upon your eye, my dear, you may defy,” he remarked, -maliciously, “even the witch and her cat.—Let me see it next Friday.” - -The poor lady at the window was by no means willing to admit defeat; -but, nonplussed for the moment, she babbled more incoherently than usual -in the endeavour to return the attack. - -“The Devil can quote scripts from texture!” - -“But give him his due, Sophia, give him his due: he can quote at least -with accuracy! Ha, ha!—Now, Amos Mossmason, come forward! I thought -you’d come to me at last! I have ready for thee a brew of the most -superlative quality! You’re pretty bad, I see, but we shall have you -dancing at the harvest-home. Here are seven little packets, one for -every day in the week in a cup of water. The little plant, Amos, from -which I have extracted this precious stuff, was known to Hippocrates as -Chara Saxifraga (think of that!), and those wise and learned men, the -Monks of Sermano—” - -At this Madam Tutterville again lifted up her voice, and with such -piercing insistence that it became impossible to ignore her. - -“Now, indeed, has Satan revealed himself! Amos Mossmason, beware! Have -nought to do with these Popish spells—it is thus the Scarlet Woman -disseminates poison!” - -At the word poison the patient hurriedly dropped the packets back on the -table, and stared in dismay from the lady of the church to the gentleman -of science. - -Ellinor, keeping well in the shadow of the window-ledge, out of the -range of her aunt’s vision, was startled in the midst of her amusement -by an unexpected thunder in her father’s voice: - -“Sophia,” he commanded, “go back to your home, open your Bible and seek -among the Proverbs for the following text, to wit: ‘The legs of the lame -are not equal, so is a parable in the mouth of fools.’ ... Thereupon -meditate! You are a good creature, but weak in the brain, and you do not -know your place among the people. Go!” - -Madam Tutterville gave a small cry like that of a clucking hen suddenly -seized by the throat. She staggered from the window and retired. To -confound her by a text was indeed to seethe the kid in its mother’s -milk. - -“Amos,” said Master Simon, “don’t you be a fool too; take your powders -and begone likewise, and let me hear of you next week. Now who will hold -the bandage while I dress Ebenezer Tozer’s sore ear?” - -“I will,” said Ellinor. - -“So you are there?” said the father, without astonishment. “Why, you -seem always to be at hand when wanted!” - -And Ellinor smiled, well content. - - -Madam Tutterville sat on a stool in the dairy, fanning herself with her -kerchief. She was in a sort of mental swoon, unable as yet to realise -the fact that she and the church had been worsted before their own -flock. - -Presently, with deliberate step, emphasised by a rhythmic jingle of -keys, the housekeeper of Bindon appeared in the doorway and looked in -upon her in affected astonishment. - -Mrs. Margery Nutmeg had a meek and suave countenance under a spotless -high-cap unimpeachably goffered and tied under her chin. Her cheeks -looked surprisingly fresh and smooth for her sixty-five years; her hair, -banded across her placid forehead, was surprisingly black. Her eye moved -slowly. She was neither tall nor short, neither fat nor thin. Her hands -were folded at her waist. Anything more decent, more respectful, more -completely attuned to her proper position, it would be impossible to -imagine. Yet before this redoubtable woman, Bindon House and village -shook; and in spite of valiant denunciations at a distance Madam -Tutterville herself was rather disposed to conciliate than to rebuke her -when they met. - -There was indeed no one at the present moment whom she so little desired -as witness to her discomposure. Quite deserted by her usual volubility, -she had no word by which to retrieve the situation. It was almost an -imploring eye that she rolled over the fluttering kerchief. She knew -Margery Nutmeg. - -“Ain’t you well, ma’am?” asked that dame, with dulcet tones of sympathy. - -Madam Tutterville tried to smile, gave it up, panted and shook her head. - -“Don’t you, ma’am,” implored Margery, after a moment’s unrelenting gaze, -“don’t you, now, so agitate yourself. It’s not good for you, Miss -Sophia, I beg pardon, I mean ma’am. It’s not indeed! And you so stout -and short-necked! Eh, we’re all sorry for you: the way you’ve been -treated, and before the villagers too! But, there, Master Rickart is a -very learned gentleman! You ought to be more careful of yourself, ma’am, -knowing what a loss you’d be to us all! It do go to my heart to hear -your breath going that hard! Let me get you a glass of buttermilk—’tis a -grand thing for thinning the blood.” - -Madam Tutterville pushed away the officious hand and moved past the -steady figure with an indignant ejaculation: - -“Margery, you’re an impudent woman!” - -She had not even the relief of a text upon her tongue. Her florid cheek -had grown pale as she tottered out again through the now empty -courtyard. Yes, it was a painfully broad shadow that went by her side. -She longed for the comfort of her Horatio’s philosophic presence; for -the respectful atmosphere of her own well-ordered household. But she -dared not hurry: for there was no doubt of it, her breathing was short. - - - - - CHAPTER X - COMPACT AND ACCEPTANCE - - ——Upon nearer view, - A spirit, yet a woman too! - And steps of virgin liberty— - Her household motions light and free - A countenance in which did meet - Sweet records, and promises as sweet. - —WORDSWORTH (_Lyrical Poems_). - - -“Dear, dear,” said Master Simon, “what can have become of my -‘Woodville’?” - -Ellinor looked up from the little packet of powdered herbs that for the -last hour, in the stillness of the laboratory, she had been weighing and -dividing.—Great had been her delight to find her help accepted without -fresh demur, for she was bent on making herself indispensable. - -“My ‘Woodville,’ child!” repeated Master Simon. “Ah, true, true, it has -been taken back to the library. David is a good lad, but I could wish -him less absolutely particular about his books. Books are made for use, -not to show a pretty binding on a shelf! But stars and books—’tis all he -cares for!” - -Ellinor rose and slipped from the room. Well, she remembered the old -“Woodville,” in its grey-tooled vellum with the thick bands and clasps. -She knew its very resting-place, between “Master Parkinson,” in black -gilt calf, and “Gerard’s Herbal,” in oaken boards. - -Once outside she stretched her limbs after the cramping work and began -humming the refrain of a little song that came back to her, she knew not -how or why, as she plunged into the loneliness of the rambling -corridors: - - ’Twas you, sir, ’twas you, sir! - I tell you nothing new, sir— - ’Twas you kissed the pretty girl! - -At a bend of the passage she stopped: she thought she heard a stealthy -footfall behind, and her heart beat faster for the moment with a sense -of long-forgotten child-terrors. Then the woman reasserted herself. Yet, -as she took up the burden of her catch again and walked on steadily, -Mrs. Marvel tossed her head in just the same defiant manner as had been -the wont of the child Ellinor, who would have died rather than own to -fear. - - -Dim was the library, but with a warm and golden dimness that was as far -removed from gloom as the warm twilight of a golden day. - -The scent of the burning wood upon the hearth mingled with the spice of -the old leather—Persian, Russian, Morocco, Calf—with the pungency of the -old parchment and of the old print upon ancient paper. The air was -filled as with the breath of ages. - -There is not one of our senses which so masterfully controls the -well-springs of memory as that rather contemned and (in this our western -hemisphere) uncultivated sense of smell. With a rush as of leaping -waters, the founts of the past now fully opened upon Ellinor—bitter and -sweet together, as the waters of memory always are. Here had she taken -refuge many a time, in the days when nothing stirred in the library but -the fire licking the logs, and (as she loved to fancy) the kind, honest -spirits of the dead. - -Every imaginative child has its bugbear, self-created, or imposed on its -helplessness by the coward cruelty of some older person. Her childish -dreams had been haunted by that perfectly respectable-looking and urbane -bogey, Margery Nutmeg. Under the housekeeper’s sleek exterior she had -instinctively felt an extraordinary power of malice, and had always -recoiled from her most coaxing approach with a repulsion that nothing -could conquer. Just now, as she came along the passage, she had vaguely -thought, just as in the old days, that Margery might be secretly -following her. - -She laughed at herself as she closed the door; but the sound of the -catching lock struck comfort in her heart, and so did the enclosed -feeling of sanctuary, of protection. - -“Oh, dear old room!” she said aloud. “Dear old books, dear friendly -hearth! God grant this may indeed be home at last!” - -She looked round, from the oriel window, purple-hung with its deep -recess; from its shelves, seat, and screen, set apart like the side -chapel of a cathedral for private devotion, to the high-carved ceiling -where, in faded colours, the coat-of-arms of past Cheverals displayed -honours that could never fade. She kissed her hand to the full length -Reynolds of that Sir Everard Cheveral, whose daughter had been her own -mother, empanelled above the stone mantelpiece. It was sweet to feel one -of such a house. - -Again she spoke, half to herself, half to the mellow, genial presentment -of her ancestor: - -“You would have said that no daughter of Bindon should seek refuge -elsewhere but in the house of her fathers.” - -“Please, ma’am,” said a low voice at her elbow. - -Ellinor started. A woman whom life had taught to keep her nerves under -control, it is doubtful whether anything but the old terrors of her -childhood would have had the power to send the blood thus back to her -heart. Mrs. Nutmeg was at her elbow—Mrs. Nutmeg hardly changed, with the -same obsequious smile and deadly eye, dropping another curtsey of -greeting as their glances met, and speaking in the familiar, purring -manner: - -“Mrs. Marvel, ma’am, begging you’ll forgive the liberty in offering you -my respectful welcome! I made so bold as to follow you and trust you -will excuse the intrusion.” - -“How do you do?” said Ellinor. - -This, of all possible greetings, was the one she least desired. She -hated herself for her weakness; but as she held out her hand, she shrank -inwardly from the remembered touch. - -“How do you do, ma’am?” responded the other, with perfunctory humility. -“I trust I see you well.” - -“Thank you,” said Mrs. Marvel over her shoulder, more shortly than her -wont, and turned to the shelf to look for her father’s book. - -But the obnoxious presence was not so easily dismissed. It followed her -to the shelves; it stood behind her; it breathed in her ear. After a -minute of irritated endurance, during which her mind absolutely refused -to work, Ellinor whisked round impatiently. - -“Well?” - -“Asking your pardon, ma’am. But, as you are aware, I was unable to -attend to you last night, having only returned this morning from -Devizes. I must beg your forgiveness for anything you might have to -complain of, not having been made aware that you were coming.” - -“Oh, everything was quite comfortable,” began Ellinor. Then suddenly -remembering her raid over-night, she hesitated and fell silent. - -“Yes, ma’am,” pursued the housekeeper, who, among other uncanny -characteristics, possessed that of answering thoughts rather than words. -“Yes, I was sorry indeed to hear that you had to get things for -yourself. I am sure if Sir David knew, it would go near to make Mr. -Giles lose his place, that a guest should be treated so—him that has the -cellar key on trust, so to speak.” - -“I shall explain to your master,” said Ellinor, after a perceptible -pause. - -“Thank you, ma’am. Mr. Giles and me would be obliged. No doubt my master -will give me instructions. But I should be grateful—having to provide, -and gentlemen liking different fare. (I ought to know their tastes by -this time, ma’am.) But ladies being otherwise, and not proposing to lay -before you what satisfies us humble servants—I should be grateful to -you, ma’am, to let me know how many days your visit at the House is -likely to be.” - -Again there was silence. Ellinor stood looking down, struggling against -the feeling of helplessness that seemed to be closing in upon her. Once -more the undignified side of her position reasserted itself. But she -fought against the thought. Why, between high-minded people of the same -blood should this sordid question of give and take come to awaken false -pride? Nay, could she not actually serve David by her presence? The hand -and eye of a mistress were sorely needed here. Truly, she had heard -enough from Madam Tutterville, seen enough herself on the previous -night, to realise that Bindon House had become but as a vast cheese in -the heart of which the rats preyed unrebuked. - -“I cannot tell you yet,” said she steadily, though the ripe colour still -mounted in her cheeks. - -Margery blinked softly like a cat, and, like a cat with claws folded in, -she stood. Her voice had a comfortably shocked note as she replied: - -“Thank you, ma’am.” - -“That will do,” cried Ellinor. - -“Yes, ma’am, thank you. No doubt. But until my master gives me my -instructions——” - -She stopped; in the listening silence of the room a slight noise had -caught her ear. She looked slowly round and Ellinor followed the -direction of her eye. From the window recess Sir David himself had -emerged, pen in hand, and now came towards them. - -Mrs. Nutmeg passed the corner of her apron over her lips and dropped her -curtsey. Ellinor stood, her head thrown back like a young deer, watching -her cousin’s advance with a look of confidence, though beneath her -folded kerchief her heart beat quick. - -He took her hand, bent, and kissed it. Then retaining it in his, turned -upon the housekeeper. Ellinor, with the clasp of his fingers going -straight to her heart, was unable to shift her gaze from his face. - -“You wish for instructions, Margery,” said he, “take them now. You shall -obey this lady as you would myself. While she remains here you shall -treat her as my honoured guest. Long may it be! And further, if she so -pleases, Mr. Rickart’s daughter shall be looked upon as mistress at -Bindon. And what she does or orders to be done shall be well done for -me.” - -Margery dipped humble acquiescence to each command. - -Ellinor had not thought those dreamy eyes of David’s could give so cold -and yet angry a flash. His brows were hardly knitted, and his voice, -though raised to extra clearness, was singularly under control; yet she -had a sudden revelation, not only of present anger in the man, but of an -extraordinary capacity for strong emotion. And she thought that if ever -an evil fate should bring her beneath his wrath, it would be more than -she could bear. - -“Go, now,” said Sir David, still addressing his servant, “but remember, -and let the household remember, that though I prefer to watch the stars -rather than your doings, I am not really blind to what goes on.” - -“I am truly glad, sir, to be authorised to give the servants any message -from you,” said Mrs. Nutmeg. - -She reached the door, paused and threw one of her expressionless glances -for no longer than a second or two towards Ellinor; raising her eyes, -however, no higher than the knees. Then the door closed softly upon the -retreating figure. - -David’s slightly slackened grasp was tightened for a moment round his -cousin’s fingers, then it relinquished them. - -“Forgive me, Ellinor,” said he, “a bad master makes a bad host.” - -“David,” said she, looking him bravely in the eyes, “I have hardly a -guinea in the world.” - -“Oh,” he cried quickly, “you humiliate me——” - -She interrupted him in her turn, and as quickly: - -“Oh, no, indeed do not think that because of what she said I should seek -such protestation from you. But David, though I came here because it was -the only refuge open to me, I could not stay unless I had a task to do. -I saw last night—before I had been in dear old Bindon an hour—that sadly -you want one honest servant here. Let me be that servant to your house; -let me be at least now what Aunt Sophia was. I can do the work.” - -She had flushed and paled as she spoke, but gained confidence towards -the end; and she looked what she felt herself to be, a strong, capable -woman. - -His eye dwelt upon her, not as last night in exaltation that amounted to -hallucination, but as one whose deep and restless sadness finds an -unsought peace. - -“Will you, indeed?” he said at last. “Will you indeed take under your -gracious care my poor, neglected house?” - -Their eyes met again. It was a silent compact. After a little pause: - -“Do you not think I am very brave to be ready to face Margery?” she -asked, with a mischievous dimple. - -At this his rare smile flashed out—that smile before which she felt, as -she had already over-night, that, in her heart, she abdicated. - -“Oh, I know Margery well,” he said, “but her husband was my father’s -faithful man, and to keep her was a promise to his dying ears. She knows -it and trades on it. I am not—do not believe it,” he added, “quite the -lunatic cousin Simon would make me out. At least, I have my lucid -moments. This is one. I have profited by it.” - -“So have I,” said Ellinor with a lovely smile of gratitude that robbed -the words of any flippancy. - -They turned together, tall woman behind tall man, the crest of her -copper curls on a level with his eyes. Thus they traversed together the -great length of the room. Once she paused, mechanically to draw a bunch -of dead roses from a dried-up vase—roses placed there, God knows how -many summers ago! He marked the action by a glance. Almost unconsciously -she lifted the powdering flowers to her lips, inhaling their faint, -ghostly fragrance. - -As they passed the window recess where, unknown to the new-comers, he -had been sitting at his work, he stopped in his turn to lay a -paper-weight on the loose sheets that were scattered on the table. A -great map, from Hevelius’s Atlas of the Stars, lay outspread, and -displayed its phantom-like constellation figures. Ellinor bent down to -look. - -“See,” said he gravely, placing his finger on the regal crown that the -genial old astronomer had lovingly designed for _Corona Borealis_—“see, -it is there that the new star has come into being; a fresh gem to the -Crown of the North, fairer even, with its sapphire glance, than -Margarita the pearl——” - -She looked up, inquiringly: - -“Your star?” - -“My star,” he answered. - -Her words pleased him, and he marked the earnest brilliancy of her blue -eyes. His answering look, though unconsciously, was tender as a caress; -and she felt it most sweetly. The crumbling rose-leaves scattered -themselves in powder upon his papers. She brushed them impatiently away -with a superstitious feeling that the past was already too much with -her, too much with him. And as she leaned over the table, the live, -real, blushing rose that she had gathered in the courtyard that morning -loosened itself from her bosom and fell softly on the outmost sheet of -the manuscript notes. Here David’s hand had sketched boldly the -wreath-like constellation that had borne him an unexpected blossom. - -Ellinor saw her flower lie upon it with pleasure. - -“Could Hevelius have seen his crown so enriched—but it is given to few -to chronicle a name in the Heavens! A star may appear and then wane, but -not this one, not this one!” He spoke half to himself. - -“When was the last great star born?” she asked. - -“Before this old Hevelius’ day,” said David. He drew another map from -under the tossed book and flung it open for her, never heeding that it -rested on the petals of her rose. “But see here, 1660—on a day of -rejoicing for England—the King had returned to his own—what seemed to -many to be a new star appeared, brightly burning. Flamsteed named it, -out of the joy of the people, _Cor Caroli_—the Heart of Charles.” - -“The heart of Charles,” she repeated. “It is pretty. What will you call -yours?” - -“I dare not name it yet,” he said. - -“Dare not?” she echoed astonished. - -“Lest it should belie me—fade and leave me the poorer,” he answered. - -There came a silence. The clock punctuated the fitful rushing sound of -the wind round the house, ticked off a minute of life for Ellinor as -full of thought and as pregnant of possibility, as sweet and as rich in -promise as any she had ever passed in her already eventful life. - -She had the impression of some extraordinary happiness that might be -hers; that yet was so elusive, so high, so shy a thing, that it would -melt away in the grasp of human hands. She had, too, a little -unreasonable foreboding, because her rose lay crushed under his -astronomy. With a sigh at last, chiding herself for folly and dreams -unworthy of her new life—she who had offered herself, and been accepted -as his servant, no more—she moved away from the table. - -The action roused him. He went with her. On the way to the door he made -another halt, and indicated by a slight gesture the urbane countenance -of that common ancestor whom Ellinor had addressed and who now, lighted -up by a capricious ray, seemed to look down upon them with a living eye -of favour. She stood confused as she remembered how boldly, as if by -right of kinship, she had claimed aloud in that silent room the -hospitality of Bindon. - -“I only represent him here,” said he, divining her thought. - -“Ah, cousin David,” said she, “say what you will, my father and I will -always be deeply in your debt.” - -He turned and looked at her gravely. - -“Surely,” he answered, after a pause, “a man’s inheritance is not solely -his own. It is but a trust. It is to be used and passed on. Those that -come after me,” added he musingly, “will not be the poorer, but the -richer for my unwonted mode of life. Yet, meanwhile, Ellinor, you can -help me to put to better purpose the wealth yearly expended in this -house. For there are abuses in a household which only a woman’s hand can -reach.” - -“They shall be reached then,” said she. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - LAYING THE GHOSTS - - Her eyes - Had such a star of morning in their blue - That all neglected places ... - Broke into music. - —TENNYSON (_Aylmer’s Field_). - - -Out of the warm library into the deserted, echoing round-vaulted hall, -on the walls of which broad sheets of tapestry hung, dimly splendid, -between fluted pilasters of marble. It seemed to Ellinor, when the swing -door had fallen behind her with its soft thud, as if they had left the -nave of some church; left a home-like refuge filled with living -presences, benign spirits and warm incense; to enter the coldness of a -crypt that spoke but of the tomb. - -She shivered, and the gay smile faded on her lips. Their footsteps fell -forlorn upon the stone floor. David now seemed to drift apart from her, -to move unsubstantial in these forsaken haunts of grandeur. But it was -her nature to re-act against such impressions. Her alert eye noted the -moth in the tapestry, the rust on the armour, the dust lying thick on -the white marble heads and limbs of statues that kept spectre company in -the semi-darkness. - -“Oh,” she cried suddenly, “what red fires we shall have on these cold -hearths! How the village maids shall rub and scrub! How God’s good -sunshine shall come pouring in through those dull windows! How rosy this -Venus shall shine under the glow of the stained glass!” - -He turned to her, as if called by the sound of the young voice back from -the habitual grey dream that his own silent home had come to be for him. - -“See, cousin David, poor Diana too! She has not felt on her breast a -breath of sweet woodland air, I verily believe, since—since I left the -place myself these ten years. She shall spring,” added Ellinor, after a -moment’s abstraction, “from a grove of palms. And when the wind blows -free, the shadow of the leaves shall fall to and fro upon her and cheat -her forest heart. At least”—catching herself up as she noted his eye -fixed upon her with a strange look—“at least, Sir David, if you will so -permit.” - -He still looked at her musingly. In reality he was going over the mere -sound of her words in his mind, as a man might recall the sweetness of a -strain of music. - -“You shall have a free hand,” he said. “And, once more, what you do -shall be well done.” - -An odd sense of emotion took hold of her, she knew not why. More to -conceal it than from any set intent, she moved forward and turned the -handle of the door that, on the other side of the hall, led to the suite -of drawing-rooms. He followed close and they looked in together. The -vast abandoned apartment was full of a musty darkness. - -“Heavens!” she cried, “do they never open a window?” - -Narrow slits of light darting in from the divisions in the shutters cut -through the heavy air and revealed, when their eyes had grown accustomed -to this deeper gloom, the shapeless, huddled rows of linen-covered -furniture. - -“Ghosts—ghosts!” said David under his breath. - -With quick hands she unbarred a shutter and, her impetuous strength -making little of rusty resistance, flung open the casement before he had -had time to divine her intention. He halted on his way to help her, -arrested by the gush of blinding light and the blast of wild wind, that -seemed to leap at his throat. - -“Oh,” she exclaimed, standing in the full ray and breathing in—so it -seemed to him—both the elements. “Oh, the warm light, the sweet air!” - -A line of Shakespeare awoke in some corner of his memory: “A thing of -fire and air.” ... How vividly it seemed to fit her then! - -Without, the changeful day had turned to wind and sun. She stood in the -very shaft of the light, in the flood of the breeze; he stood watching -her from within, in the gloom and the stagnation. Her black gown -fluttered and turned flame at the edges; alternately clung to, and waved -away from her straight limbs, now revealing, now throwing into shadow -the curves of a foot that, in its sandal, pressed the ground as lithely -as ever a Diana’s arrested on the spring. The fresh airs engulfed -themselves under her kerchief into her white bosom. It was as if he -could watch them playing around her throat, even as if he could see them -fluttering and flattering her hair.... Her hair! The sun’s sparkles had -got into it! Now it rose, nimbus-like; now it danced, a spray of fire, -back from her forehead; now again, under the flying touches, it fell -back and rippled like a cornfield in the breeze. - -This radiant creature! The more Sir David looked, the further apart he -felt his fate from hers. She seemed to belong all to the dancing wind -and the glad sun-light. From such an one as he, from his melancholy, his -gloom, his fading life, she seemed as much cut off as ever the -unattainable stars from his wondering night watch. - -Thus they stood for the space of a minute. Then Ellinor turned. Light -and freshness now filled the great room. The keen breath of the woods -gaily drove into corners and chased away the mouldy vapours, the vague, -shut-up breath of the old brocades, of the crumbling potpourris, of the -sandal-wood and Indian rose; even as the light of Heaven drove the -shadows back under the cabinets and behind the pillars, and awoke to -life the gold moulding and the fleur-de-lis on the white walls, the -delicate wreaths and tracery on the trellised ceilings. - -“See, cousin David, the ghosts are gone!” - -But the man had withdrawn to the shadow. There was now no answering -light in his eye. He had now no phrase, tardy in coming, yet quick in -the sympathy of her thought, such as had before delighted her. What had -come to him? She gave a little laugh; the vigour, the freedom from -without had got so keenly into her veins that she was as though -intoxicated. - -“I vow,” she cried, “you are like a ghost yourself! Why, you look like a -dim knight from the tapestry yonder in the hall, wandering ...” - -She broke off. The words were barely out of her mouth before she had -read upon his countenance that they had struck some chord which it -should have been all her care to leave silent. It was not so much that -his pale face had grown paler or his deep eye more brooding, it was more -as if something that had been for a while restored to life had once more -settled into death; as if an open door had been closed upon her. - -“A ghost, indeed,” he said at last, after a silence, during which she -thought the sunshine faded and the wind ceased to sing. “A ghost among -ghosts!” - -“David!” she cried and quickly came close to him in the shadow. The -light passed from her face as the sun sparkled away from her hair: a -pale woman in a black dress, she was now nothing more! - - -Imagination, that plant which wreathes with flowers the open life of -man, grows to mere clinging, unwholesome luxuriance of stem and leaf in -dark, secluded existences. Sir David’s fanciful mind, disordered by too -long solitude, had become incapable of viewing in just perspective the -small events and transient pictures of that every day world to which he -had so persistently made himself a stranger. - -The sudden difference in Ellinor’s appearance, following as it did upon -a deeply melancholy impression, struck him as an evil portent.—This, -then, was what would happen to her youth and brightness, were fate to -link her life with one so unfortunate as he! - -She stretched out her hand to touch him. The riddle of his attitude -baffled her. - -“David!” she repeated, pleadingly. He drew gently back from her touch. - -“Cousin,” he said, and she heard a vibration as of some dark trouble in -his voice, “keep to what sunshine this old house will admit. But in -God’s name do not seek to explore its shadows.” - -“But do you not see,” she cried, pointing to the open window, “that all -shadows give way before my hand?” - -He made no answer, unless a long look, inscrutable to her, but yet that -seemed to search into her very soul, could be deemed an answer. - -“Come,” she went on resolutely. “Let us go through this dim house of -yours together, and see what can be done. Ghosts!” she repeated, “the -ghosts of Bindon are rust and dust and emptiness and silence and -neglect. God’s light, dear cousin, and the wood airs, the birds’ songs, -soap and water, stout hearts and true, and good company—give me but -these and I’ll warrant you I’ll lay your ghosts.” - -Into his earnest gaze came a sort of tender indulgence, as for the -prattle of a child. - -“Come then,” said he, simply. - -But she felt that now it was to humour her, and not because she had -reached the seat of his melancholy. - -However, with heart and spirit as determined as her step, she drew him -with her through the long, desolate rooms, leaving everywhere light and -freshness where she had found darkness and oppression. Then through the -ball-room, where the silence and the weighted atmosphere, the shrouded -splendour and the faded brilliancy made doubly sad a space designed all -for mirth and music. This feeling struck her in spite of her resolution; -and when, before passing out into the hall again, David paused to look -back and said, as if to himself: “Sometimes darkness is best; at least -it hides the void,” she had this time no answer for him. - -Slowly they ascended the great oaken stairs that creaked beneath their -tread as if too long unused to human steps. Slowly they paced the length -of the picture gallery, just illumined enough through drawn blinds to -show the little clouds of dust set astir by their feet and to draw the -pale faces of pictured ancestors from the gloom of their canvas -backgrounds. The shadowed eyes, divined rather than seen in the delusive -light, seemed to follow Ellinor with wistful questioning: “What will -this child of ours do for our sorrowful house?” - -Slowly and silently they progressed through the long suites of empty -guest-chambers, where four-posters stood like catafalques and -unsuspected mirrors threw back at them sudden phantom-like images of -their own passing countenances. At length Ellinor paused irresolute; -then she arrested David as he once more mechanically advanced to unbar a -shutter. - -“Nay,” she said, “the rest shall sleep a few days more. I have seen -enough of the enchanted castle.” She tried to laugh. “Not, mind you, -that I doubt being able to break its spell!” she added. But her laugh -rang muffled, even to herself, in an air that seemed too heavy to hold -it. She caught David by the sleeve, and dragged him into the comparative -cheerfulness of a corridor lit at either end by a blessed gleam of blue -sky. - -They had reached once more the keep wing of the house. There was stone -beneath their feet, stone above their heads, stone walls, ochre-washed -on either side. - -“Ah,” cried she, a sudden wave of memory breaking over her, called up by -the vision through the deep hewn windows. “How well I recollect! I used -to play here. This is the old nursery.” - -She flung open a narrow door; the long, low-ceiled room within was -flooded with whitest light, for its barred windows boasted no shutters. -The shadows of the tall trees outside danced like waters on the walls. -Cobwebs hung in festoons even in the yawning grate. Two little beds -stood covered with a patchwork quilt; a headless rocking-horse was in -one corner, a tiny wooden chair in another. An empty nursery! As sad to -look on as an empty nest! Ellinor’s eyes brightened with tears; a hot -tide of passion, sprung of an inexplicable mixture of feeling, rushed -from her heart to her lips. She turned almost fiercely on David, who had -remained in the doorway. - -“Oh, why have you wasted your life?” she cried. “Why have you turned -your back on all the good things God gives man? Why is your home -desolate, your hearth vacant, your heart solitary? David, David, this -house should never have been empty thus; there should be children round -your knee! What have you done with your life?” - -The tears brimmed over and ran down her cheeks. Then her strange passion -fell away from her, and she stood ashamed. He had started first and put -up his hand as if to thrust back her words. There was a long silence. -When he broke it, it was as one who speaks upon the second thought, with -the cold control that follows an unadmitted emotion. - -“For me such things will never be.” - -“Why, why?” The cry seemed forced from her. - -He waved his hand with the gesture of the most complete renunciation. - -“Never,” he repeated. - -The word, she felt, was final. She gazed at him almost angrily; then -tears, caused now by mortification and confusion, rose irresistibly -again. To conceal them she turned to the window, pulled open the queer -little casement and, leaning on her elbows, looked out in silence. - -Below her lay the Herb-Garden, with its variegated autumn burden of -berries, red or purple or sinister orange; its groups of fantastically -shaped leaves, turning to tints not usually known in this sober clime; -here a patch, violet, nearly black; and there a streak of tropical -scarlet; elsewhere again mauve, verdigris-green—colours, indeed, that -village folk said, “no Christian plants ought to produce.” The scents of -them, as pungent yet different in decay as ever in their blossom time, -rose to her nostrils mixed sweet and bitter, over-dulcet, poisonous or -aromatic-wholesome. - - -The sight and the smell were full of subtle reminiscence. She felt her -throbbing heart calm down, her hot cheeks grow cool. In some mysterious -way, now as in her childhood, the Herb-Garden seemed to draw her and to -speak to her; to promise and withhold some fairy secret, she knew not -whether for joy or sorrow, but yet incomparably sweet. As she gazed -forth she noticed the quaint figure of her father come into view from -behind a clump of bushes. He was attended by Barnaby, who, under the -direction of his master’s gesture, culled leaves and flowers. Circling -round the pair, Belphegor, the black cat, could be seen gravely watching -the proceedings. There was something peaceful and world-detached in the -silent scene, and it brought back some of that sense of rest and -home-return which she had found so blessed the previous night. - -All at once she felt close to her the shadowing presence of her cousin, -and the next moment his touch upon her shoulder sent her blood leaping. - -“For five years,” said David, “your father has been looking for a -certain plant. He says, Ellinor, that it is the ‘True-Grace,’ the -_Euphrosinum_ of the ancients, called by the primitive simplers at home, -‘Star-of-Comfort.’ And its properties, as he believes, are to bring -gladness to the sore heart and the drooping spirit. But all traces of it -have been lost. If it still blooms, it blooms somewhere unknown. Never -an autumn passes but your father plants fresh seeds, seeds that reach -him from all parts of the world ... with fresh hope.” He stopped -significantly. - -She turned to him with wide eyes; he looked back at her. Both his glance -and voice were full of kindness. - -“That would be a precious plant, would it not?” he went on. -“‘True-Grace’ ... ‘Star-of-Comfort.’ Is there such a thing in this -world? To your father its discovery is what the quest of the Powder of -Projection, of the Elixir of Life was to the alchemist of old; of -Eldorado to the merchant-adventurer, of Truth to the philosopher—does it -exist? Will he ever find it?” Then he added: “Who knows ... perhaps you -will have brought him luck.” - -And when he had said this his dark face was lit by his rare smile. - -“What is it that could comfort you?” she cried, clasping her hands. - -His very gentleness brought her some comprehension of a sadness -illimitable as when the mists rise dimly above vast seas and fall again. -His face set into gravity once more, his gaze wandered from her face out -through the little window to the far-off amethyst hills on the horizon. - -“To be able to forget ... perhaps,” he answered, as if in a dream. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - A KINDLY EPICURE - - ——The easy man - Who sits at his own door; and, like the pear - That overhangs his head from the green wall, - Feeds in the sunshine ... - —WORDSWORTH (_Reflective Poems_). - - -The fruit in the rectory garden, the pears from the rector’s own tree, -had all been culled; Madam Tutterville had seen to that. And where she -ruled, if there was always abundance of the choicest description, there -was no waste. - -The rector liked fruit to his breakfast. He belonged to a generation who -made breakfast an important meal; an occasion for the feast of wit as -well as of palate; for the consorting of choice souls, the first -freshness upon them and the dew still sparkling upon the laurel that -binds the poet’s brow. The breakfast hour is one when the mellow beam of -good repose shines still in the eye, mitigating the sarcasm of the man -of humour, enhancing the charm of the man of elegant parts, ripening the -wits of the learned. That hour (not unduly early, mind you) when the -morning has already gained warmth but not lost crispness; when with -pleasure and profit a party of cultured gentlemen can meet, bloom as of -peach on well-shaven cheek—_rasés à velour_, as the French barber of -those days quaintly had it—silk stocking precisely drawn over -re-invigorated muscle; and, thus meeting, exchange the good things of -the mutual mind with critical sobriety, while discussing in similar -manner the good things of bodily refreshment. - -They were good days when social convention countenanced such hours of -elegant leisure! Good times were they that still cherished the -delicately dallying scholar, the epicure in life and in learning; that -admired the man who knew how to sip and relish, and to whom essential -quality was of overpoweringly vaster importance than quantity. A good -age, when hurry was looked upon almost as an ungentlemanly vice and the -anxious mind of business was held incompatible with culture! - -Of such was the reverend Horatio Tutterville, D.D., late Fellow of Oriel -College, Oxford, Rector of Bindon. And to him the breakfast hour was -still sacred: an hour of serene enjoyment to which he daily looked -forward as the great prize of life, and which prepared him for a day of -duties performed with admirable deliberation. - -True, the fates had so marshalled his existence that but few were the -congenial friends who could now and again come and share these pleasant -moments under the flickering shades of the pear-tree, or in the cosy -parsonage dining-room; sit at those tables—both round! —which it was at -once Madam Sophia’s pride and privilege to supply with an exquisite and -varied fare. - -But little recked he of that; choice spirits there were still with whom -he could consort at any time; spirits as rare as any who in Oxford -Common-Room, in Town, or in Cathedral precincts ever had communed with -him. Aye, and rarer! Spirits, moreover, ready at all hours of the night -or day, and always in gracious mood, to yield their hoarded wisdom or -sweetness to the lingering appreciation of his palate. - -The choice of his morning’s companion always was with Dr. Tutterville -one of solicitude and discrimination. A Virgil, or some other subtle -singer of like brilliance, on mornings when the sun was very hot and the -sky of Italian blue between the high garden walls; when the bees were -extra busy over the fragrant thyme beds, and when some fresh cream -cheese and honey and whitest flour of wheat were most tempting on the -fair cloth. “Rare Ben Jonson,” perhaps, on a stormy autumn day, when the -wood fire roared up the chimney and a fine old hearty English breakfast -of the game pie or boar-head order could be fitly topped up by a short, -but nobly creaming beaker of Audit ale. - -Like so many men who have read sedulously in their student days the -reverend Horatio, now in his dignified leisure, read little, but with -nicest discrimination; and in that little found an inexhaustible fund of -unalloyed contentment. He would also quote felicitously from his daily -reading as a man might from the conversation of a valued friend. - -It is indeed not every one who ever learns the art of book-enjoyment. -Your true reader must be no devourer of books. To him the thought -committed to the immortality of print, crystallised to its shapeliest -form, polished to its best lustre, is one which demands and repays -lingering communion. If books are worth reading at all, they should be -allowed to speak their full meaning; they should be hearkened to with -deference. And it was always in pages that compelled such honourable -attention that Dr. Tutterville sought that intellectual companionship -which made his country seclusion not only tolerable, but blissfully -serene. - -Madam Tutterville, whether from convenience to herself, or (we had -rather believe), from shrewd conception of the proprieties and wifely -respect for the moods of her lord, never shared the forenoon repast. -Indeed, she had generally accomplished much business in household or -village before the learned divine emerged from that sanctuary where the -mysteries of his careful toilet and of his early meditation were -conducted in privacy and decorum. - -But it was on rare occasions indeed that she could not snatch five -minutes out of her multifarious occupations for the pure pleasure of -watching her Horatio’s complacency as he sipped her coffee and his book. - -Happy man, whose own capacity for enjoyment could so gratify another’s! - -On this particular morning—a week after the exciting day of Ellinor -Marvel’s return—Madam Tutterville, having duly examined the -weather-glass, scanned the sky and personally tested the warmth of the -air, deemed that for perhaps the last time that year she might safely -set her rector’s breakfast in the garden. - -For it was one of those days which a reluctant summer drops into the lap -of autumn; a day of still airs and high vaulted skies, faintly but -exquisitely blue; when, red and yellow, the leaves cling trembling to -the bough from which there is not a puff of wind to detach them—and if -they fall, fall gently as with a little sigh. - -On such a day the frost, that over-night has laid light, white fingers -everywhere, would be unguessed at but for the delicate tart purity of -the air, which the sunshine, however it may warm it, cannot eliminate. A -day in which you might be cheated into thoughts of spring, were it not -for the pathos of the rustling leaf, the solitary monthly rose, the -boughs that let in so much more heaven between them, and the lonely -eaves where swallow broods are rioting no longer. - -Madam Tutterville, as we have said, knew her parson’s tastes to a shade. - -The round green table and rustic chair were therefore set between that -edge of sunshine and shadow that spelt comfort. In her devoted soul the -autumnal poetry was translated into housewife practicality: into broiled -partridge still fizzling under the silver cover, a comb of -heather-honey, a purple bunch of grapes invitingly stretched on their -own changing leaves. - -An hour later the good soul came forth again into the garden to enjoy -her reward. A covered basket on her arm, that same plump, white member -tightly folded with its comrade over the crisp muslin kerchief and the -capacious bosom; the Swiss straw-hat, tied with a black ribband under -the chin, shading, but not concealing the lace cap of fine Mechlin, the -curls, and the rosy smiling countenance.... No unpleasing spectacle for -any reasonable husband’s eye! So thought the parson. As her shadow fell -across the patch of sunshine in front of him, he looked up and smiled -from the pages of his book. - - -The companion of the morning was the Olympian who has immortalised in -beauty almost every theme and mood of the human mind. It had struck the -divine, whilst inquiringly surveying his shelves, that the noble figure -of Prospero would be evoked with singular fitness on this placid October -morn. The volume—propped against the glistening decanter of water—was -one Baskerville’s edition of Shakespeare and opened at Act IV. of the -Tempest. - -The rector, brought back from the green sward of the wizard’s cell to -his actual surroundings, smilingly looked his inquiry as his spouse -stood in patience before him. - -“Ah, my delicate Ariel!” said he, with the most benevolent sarcasm. - -Nor, as Madam Tutterville gazed down upon him, was she behind him in -conjugal complacency. Nay, as her eyes wandered over the handsome -countenance with the classic firm roundness of outline, which might have -graced a Roman medal, her heart swelled within her with a tender pride. - -“What a man is my Horatio!” she thought, not without emphasis on the -word “my.” For well she knew how much her care had contributed to that -same rich outline. - -Everything about this excellent man was ample. Ample the wave of hair -that rose in a crest from an expansive brow and still sported a cloud of -scented powder after the fashion of his younger years. Ample the curve -of his high nose; ample the chin and nobly proportioned. Ample the chest -that gently swelled from under the snowy ruffles to that fine display of -broadcloth waistcoat where dangled the golden seals and the watch that -methodically marked the flight of the rector’s golden moments. But the -rector’s legs had so far resisted the encroachment of general amplitude. -There the only curve, one in which he took an innocent pride, was a fine -line that, under the meshes of well-drawn silk hose, led from knee to -heel with clean and elegant finality. - -No wonder that Madam Tutterville’s breast should heave with the glory of -possession. - -Her smile broadened, as she glanced from the well-picked partridge bones -to the plump fingers that now toyed with the grapes. She noted also the -reticent smile that hovered on the divine’s lips, as if in sympathetic -answer to her own. Yet, though she beamed to see her lord so content, -the true inwardness of this same content escaped her—naturally enough. -What could Madam Sophia know of that thousandth new elusive beauty he -had even now discovered in Prospero’s green and yellow island? How could -she guess that it had broken upon his mental palate with a flavour -cognate to that of the luscious grapes she had provided? What could she -know of the spice of genial sarcasm that likened one of her own vast -proportions to the ministering sprite of the amiable wizard—and yet saw -a delightful modern fitness in the comparison? Far indeed was she from -realising the endless amusement her conversation afforded to a mind as -accurate on one side as it was humourous on the other. - -_Sermo index animi._ If speech be the mirror of the mind, Doctor -Tutterville’s mind revealed itself as elegant, balanced, and polished. -Nothing more orderly, more concise, more jealously chosen than his word -and enunciation. Nothing, in short, could have been in more absolute -contrast to the hurling ambitious volubility of his consort. - -“Well, Doctor Tutterville,” said madam, “did the bird like you well!” - -“The bird? Excellent well, Sophia. But first, or last, your fine -Egyptian cookery shall have the fame!” - -“Ah,” said the lady, beaming, “Proverbs!—Yes. I must say that for -Solomon, he knew how to value a wife.” - -“No one was ever better qualified, my dear,” said the parson kindly. - -It was characteristic of the lady that, however unknown the source of -her husband’s illustrations, however unintelligible his allusions, -sooner would she have perished than own it even to herself. And as he, -in his original enjoyment of her happy shots, was careful never to -correct her, the conversation of the admirable couple proceeded with -unchecked briskness on one side and ungrudging appreciation on the -other. - -Doctor Tutterville drew his chair back from the table, crossed his legs -and prepared to enjoy himself, nothing being better for the digestion -than quiet laughter. Madam deposited her basket, and selecting a snowy -churchwarden pipe from the box that reposed upon the bench by the side -of the pear-tree, proceeded to fill it with Bristol tobacco out of a -brass pot. Very lightly did she stuff the bowl: for the Rector took his -tobacco as he took his other pleasures—a few light whiffs, the best of -the herb! “Once the freshness and fragrance gone,” he was wont to say, -“you might as well drink wine after you had ceased to possess its -flavour.” - -“Well, my love?” said he, as he took the brittle stem between his fore -and second finger. - -“Well, Horatio,” said she, comfortably subsiding on the bench. “I have -been to Bindon, and, oh, my dear Doctor, what a change has come over the -place!” - -“I remarked the improvement,” said the parson, “both in sweetness and in -light upon my visit three days ago. That daughter of brother Rickart’s -seems a capable young woman.” - -“Bring up a child,” quoth Madam Sophia, complacently. “I flatter myself -she does credit to my early training. You have not forgotten, Doctor, -that ’twas I who (as the scripture bids us) directed that young idea how -to shoot. I vow,” cried she, “I could not be setting about things better -myself. But, oh, Horatio, how are the mighty humbled!... I refer to -Margery Nutmeg.” - -“Mrs. Nutmeg’s manners are always so much too humble for my liking,” -said the divine, “that I presume you allude thus rhetorically to her -circumstances.” - -“Certainly, my dear Doctor—_ex cathedrum_, as you would say.” - -“I never should, my dear. But let it pass.” - -“You know what a thorn in the spirits these goings on of hers have been -to me and you will therefore lift up your voice and rejoice, I feel -sure, when I tell you that my dear niece has now all the keys in her -possession. Margery has found her mistress again.” - -The divine laid down his pipe and the benign amusement of his expression -gave way to a look of gravity. - -“No doubt,” he said, after a pause, “you good ladies know what you are -doing. But personally, I should prefer not to retain Mrs. Nutmeg on the -premises if it was my business to thwart her.” - -But madam, strong in a sense of victory over the dreaded enemy, scouted -the suggestion. - -“That excellent girl, Ellinor, was actually having the meat weighed and -apportioned,” she announced triumphantly, “at the very moment of my -arrival this morning. So Mistress Margery’s retail business hath come to -an end. A sheep killed every week, Horatio, and pork in the servants’ -hall! The woman was an absolute Salomite! How often did I not remind her -of Paul’s warning! ‘Serve ye your masters with flesh in fear and -trembling.’” - -The gentle merriment that Madam Tutterville was happily wont to take as -a token of approval in her lord, here shook his goodly form. - -“But my voice was as that of the pelican in the wilderness. Well, all -her sweet smiles and curtseys this morning would not take me in. She -knows her day is over—though she hides her rage.” - -“_Malevolus animus abditos dentes habet_,” murmured the parson. - -“Indeed, my dear Doctor,” plunged the lady, “you never said a truer -word. But what could she expect?” - -“And have you forgiven your brother for so incontinently presuming to -quote the scriptures against you the other day?” - -“Why, Doctor, you know I never bear malice. And, dear sir, if you had -but seen him, I vow you’d scarcely know him. He hath a new dressing-gown -and that dear, excellent girl has actually prevailed on him to trim his -beard!” - -“I hope,” said the parson, “the young lady will leave something of my -old friend. From the days of Samson I mistrust woman when she begins to -wield her scissors upon man. And have Simon’s other peculiarities -departed from him with his patriarchal beard and ancient garments?” - -“Indeed, my dear Doctor, he was quite a lamb. I have promised him a -volume of your sermons, that which refers to the keeping of the first, -second, and third commandments, that he may see for himself how -reprehensible are his dealings with magic and such things. ‘Take a -lesson’ (I cried to him) ‘of my Horatio’!” - -She was proceeding with ever increasing, ever more tripping volubility -and unction—“Model your life ever upon the Decameron, and you will never -be far wrong!” But here a Homeric burst of merriment interrupted the -flow of her eloquence. - -The reverend Horatio lay back in his chair, while the quiet garden close -rang to the unwonted sound of sonorous laughter. When at length, with -catching breath and streaming eyes, he found strength wherewith to -speak: - -“Perdition, catch my soul, most excellent wretch, but I do love thee!” -quoted he, and was promptly off again with such whole-hearted and jovial -appreciation that, feeling she must indeed have pointed her moral with -telling appositeness, his lady’s countenance became suffused with -crimson and was also irradiated by her peculiarly infantile smile of -conscious delight. She pursed her lips to prevent herself from spoiling -the situation by another word. - -“And what did brother Simon reply?” asked the rector, as soon as he -became able to articulate. - -“Oh,” said she proudly, “you will be gratified, Horatio: he looked very -grave and seemed much impressed; said he could not promise, but that he -would think it over; he would watch and see how you got on.” - -Loud rang the parson’s laugh again. - -“Meanwhile,” shrieked Madam Sophia, triumphantly, “he said he would -prefer to study the question in the original Italian—whatever he may -have meant by that. I cannot but feel there is promise.” - -“Extraordinary, extraordinary!” said Horatio Tutterville. “And David?” -he asked presently. “Are you going to enrol him as a follower of -Boccacio?” - -“My dear Doctor,” smiled the lady, “I flatter myself that I can follow -you in the vernal tongue as well as anyone—but when it comes to Hebrew, -I plead the privileges of my sex! This much I understand, however: you -refer to David. Well, he also is putting off the old man. Doctor,” she -clasped her hands and drew her large countenance wreathed in smiles of -mystery, close to his ear to whisper: “This will end in marriage bells! -Mark my words.” - -“Thus the prophetess!” replied the rector, with the scoff of the true -man for the match-making feminine. “Alas, my poor Sophia, there’s no -marrying stuff in David!” - -He wiped his eyes, and rose. - -“Well,” he said, “after the bee has sipped he must to work.” - -“You will find,” said she, “a fire in your study, your books as you left -them last night and a bunch of our last roses where you love to see -them.” - -Sedately the reverend Horatio moved towards the peaceful precincts, -where awaited him the pages of his next Advent sermons—and perhaps also -the manuscripts of those delicate commentaries on Tibullus, long -promised to his Oxford publisher. - - - - - THE STAR DREAMER - - - - - BOOK II - - - The night - Hath been to me a more familiar face - Than that of man; and in her starry shade - Of dim and solitary loveliness - I learned the language of another world. - —TENNYSON. - - - - - CHAPTER I - MIDSUMMER SUNRISE - - ... the blue - Bared its eternal bosom, and the dew - Of summer nights collected still to make - The morning precious: Beauty was awake. - —KEATS (_Sleep and Poetry_). - - -A dawn in June: the dawn of a night that has held no real blackness, but -merged from a sky of sapphire to one of grey pearl—sapphire so starlit, -that ever deeper deeps and ever bluer transparencies seemed to unveil -themselves to the watchers eye; grey pearl pulsing into opal, shot with -milky pinks, faint greens, ambers and primroses. - - -Into the dewy morning world came Ellinor; down through the long stone -passages that still held night and silence; out into this awakening, -this freshness, this lightsomeness. - -The wonders of the summer dawn, day after day, bring to the old Earth, -as it were, a new creation. She awakes and finds the forgotten paradise -from which man, of his own sluggard choice, shuts himself out with gates -of darkness and leaden bolts of sleep. - -Ellinor, her fair face emerging from the folds of her dark, grey-hooded -cloak, came pearl-like as the young day itself from the folds of the -night. Her slender foot left its print on the dew-moist path. She passed -between the stately flower-beds through the great formal -pleasure-grounds where, under the sunrise radiance, the masses of -geranium blooms were taking to themselves silvery colours unknown to the -later day; between the ranks of cypress and box, whose grotesque and -fantastic shapes were duskily cut out against the transparent sky one -moment and the next seemed fringed with green flame as the level rays -leaped at them; up the shrubbery walks, where the white syringa was -breaking into odorous stars, scattering its scented dew upon her as she -brushed the outstretched branches; under the black and solemn shades of -the yew-trees, until she reached the gate that gave access to the -Herb-Garden. - -She walked slowly, drinking in the loveliness of the hour. The bees were -humming loudly over the spicy beds. The whole garden was full of sweet -growing hum and stir; of the flash of wet bird wings. Its strange -blossoms swaying in the capricious little breeze seemed to hold private -councils, then nod familiarly at her, welcoming and beckoning on. - -Ellinor stood, her hand still on the gate, her brow towards the radiant -east; the hood had slipped from her head and a sun-shaft pierced her -hair. She never crossed the threshold of this garden without a curious -sense of something impending. And now, as she paused to breathe its ever -new fragrances, the happy humour in which she had started on her quest -for herbs (to be gathered at the hour of sunrise, according to Master -Gerard’s own prescription) gave place to the old childish sense of -mysterious awe and attraction. - -And as she stood, musing, the sound of a rapid step was heard on this -garden space, so far consecrate to herself and to the wild things; a -darker shadow detached itself from the heavy shade of the yew-tree. She -turned round quickly to face it. Sir David was beside her. - -“The purity of the morning,” he thought, “and the dawn still in her -eyes!” - -“David!” she cried, astonished; and a happy rose leapt into her cheek. - -“I saw you,” he said, “from my tower.” - -She glanced up to the frowning grey stone mass that was beginning to -cast sharply its long shadow on the sunlit garden—then she looked back -at his face, pallid and a little drawn. And if he had seen the dawn in -her eyes she saw in his shadow of the night watch. - -“Ah,” she cried and menaced him with her white finger. “No sleep again, -David! And your promise?” - -“The stars lured me,” he answered, smiling faintly. Ellinor, however, -did not smile. The rose flush faded slowly from her face. The stars -lured him! Would it then always be so? She gave a little sigh. Then, -without speaking, she drew a key from her reticule and slipped it into -the lock; it required the effort of both her strong hands to turn it, -but she would do it herself. - -“Nay, cousin, it is a fancy of mine. I alone am trusted with the keys of -the sanctuary. It is I that shall open to you the gate of our -Herb-Garden.” - -It fell back, groaning on its hinges; and she stood inside, smiling -again. - -“Come in, David.” - -“Do you know,” he said, still standing on the threshold, humouring her -mood according to his wont, “that I have actually never trodden this -rood of ground before.” - -She clapped her hands with joy. - -“Then it is indeed I who will have brought you here,” she cried. “That -is right. Oh, cousin, don’t you know, this is the enchanted garden, my -garden! Ah, you did not know that, lord of Bindon! You deemed it was -yours perhaps, though you never bethought yourself even of visiting it. -But it was given to me by a fairy, years and years ago. And it is full -of spells and dreams and magic! I will tell you something: That night, -when I came back last autumn ... the first thing I did when I went to my -room was to open my window that gives on the garden—you see that window -there—and I leant out over the whispering ivy leaves to greet my garden. -And in the dark of the night I heard it speak to me. And it said: I am -still yours—David, come in!” - -With one of his unconsciously courtly gestures to mark that it was -indeed on her invitation that he came upon her ground, he entered -slowly, looking at her with a little wonder. For this fantastic Ellinor -was as new to him as this day’s dawn. She guessed his thoughts. - -“I vow,” she said and seemed to shake off her fancy as she might have -brushed from before her face a floating gossamer—“I vow that I am -becoming infected with some musing sickness! But between you, my cousin -star-gazer, and my good alchemist father, it were odd if there were no -such humour in the air. Hold my basket, dear David, I will be practical -again.” - - - - - CHAPTER II - _EUPHROSINE_, STAR-OF-COMFORT - - She still took note that, when the living smile - Died from his lips, across him came a cloud - Of melancholy severe; from which again, - Whenever in her hovering to and fro, - The lily-maid had striven to make him cheer, - There brake a sudden beaming tenderness. - —TENNYSON (_Elaine_). - - -“And do you not wish to know,” asked Ellinor, “what has brought me with -the dawn to these gardens?” - -He had been watching silently by her side—watching her, as here she -snipped a bundle of leaves and there a sheaf of blossoms, and -mechanically extending the basket that she might lay them therein. Now, -after a fashion of his, to which she had grown well accustomed, he let -fall a glance upon her as one bringing himself back from a distance. - -She repeated her question, with a little pretence of impatience. - -“I do not think that I wondered to see you,” he answered -slowly.—Fastidious as he was in his garb and every exterior detail that -concerned him, it was all as nothing, Ellinor had learned to know, -compared to his mental fastidiousness. A silent man he was, but when he -spoke no words could serve him but such as could clothe the truth to the -most exquisite nicety. Could anyone have been more ill equipped for the -battle of life? - -“I was standing on the tower,” he went on, “watching the withdrawal of -the stars and the rise of another day. It is not often that I look to -the earth. When the stars go, then, you see, the world is blank to me. -But this morning, I know not why, when the skies grew faint I did look -upon the earth and found it very fair. And so I stood and watched and -saw the colours grow. Then you came forth into the midst of them; and -somehow I thought it was as if you were part of the beauty of it -all—part of the dawn; as if you were something that the earth and I -myself had unconsciously been waiting for to complete the whole. Thus -you see, Ellinor, it did not enter into my mind to ask why you had come. -I sought you,” he smiled as he spoke, “also, indeed, I know not why.” - -As Ellinor listened her white eyelids had fallen over her eyes, lower -and lower, till the long lashes, black at the base, upturned and tipped -with gold at their ends, cast shadows on her cheek. Her breast heaved -with the quickening of her breath. But at the last word she looked up at -him, and her eyes were sad. - -“Ah, cousin, will you ever know?” - -It was almost a cry; it had a ring of hidden bitterness in it. Then, -after a slight pause, she resumed her snipping and became once more, as -she had announced, practical. - -“Well, now you shall be told why I am here. And first, please understand -that I combine with my duties of housekeeper to the lord of Bindon, -those of ’prentice or familiar to the alchemist—simpler—sorcerer; in -short, to Master Simon, my father. Now, as you know,” she pursued, -assuming a mock orating tone, “my said father spends now all his days -and most of his night in extracting divers salts, distilling essences, -elixirs, what not—remedies for which the village folk flock to him with -enthusiasm, and which being, praise Heaven, harmless enough, are applied -to their ills with varying success but entire satisfaction to -themselves. These remedies are mostly grown in this garden.” - -She began to move down the path which led from bed to bed and which no -foot but that of the simpler himself, of the dumb boy Barnaby, or her -own having hitherto trod, was so narrow and encroached upon by the wild -luxuriance of the herbs and shrubs that she was fain to walk in front of -him and to speak over her shoulder. And even then, beneath their feet, -many a broken and crushed simple gave forth its spicy ghost. - -Her face presented itself to him in different aspects every moment. Now -he caught but a rim of pearly cheek; now a clear cut profile; now nearly -the whole delicate oval narrowed as she turned it towards him over her -shoulder, the white chin more pointed. Meanwhile she spoke on gaily, -with only here and there a pause to consider, to select and cull. - -“I need not tell you, who have known my father so many more years than I -myself, that while he makes use of the good old simple writers, Master -Gerard, Master Robert Turner, Master Parkinson and the rest, he scoffs -at what he calls their superstition. But I, having relieved him from the -task of gathering, find it my pleasure to follow the quaint old -directions in their least particular. And when Master Gerard, for -instance, says, ‘This herb loseth its power unless it be gathered under -the rays of the moon in her first quarter’ why then, cousin David,” she -laughed, “under the rays of the moon in her first quarter I gather it. -Who knows if I do not please thereby some honest ghost? Who knows if -there be not in very truth some hidden virtue in the hour? You will have -divined that the hour of sunrise is, on the same authority, the only fit -season for the culling of certain other precious plants. And so I am -here to cull betony and ditander in the dew. (Betony, you must know, -sir, is of all simples, except vervaine, the most excellent, so that it -is an old say: ‘If you be ill, sell your coat and buy betony.’)” - -Here she pushed her way through a bed where thyme had grown breast high. -She came back again presently, flushed and be-pearled, merry with the -breath of the spices clinging to her garments, and with as much betony -as one hand could hold together. This she added to the basket’s burden. - -On ran her tongue the while: - -“Ah,” catching herself up abruptly and retracing her way by a step, “the -ditander is also blossoming, I see. Father will be glad to see it. It is -sovereign against the wounds of arrows ‘shot from guns, and also for the -healing of poisoned hurts.’ You would never guess,” she added, “that the -juice of this modest little plant is so powerful that, Master Gerard -avers, ‘the mere smell of it will drive away venomous beasts and doth -astonish them!’” Her laugh rang out, clear as crystal. “You are not -convinced, cousin. I would I could see more speculation in that eye! -What if I were to tell you that the thing grows under the influence of -Mars—would it awaken more interest?” - -His grave lip was faintly lifted to a smile. - -“It might account at least for its virtue against wounds of arrows,” -said he. - -“Nay, there’s sarcasm in that tone,” she said, shaking her head. “More -respect, I beg of you, Sir David, for this little borage. Does it not -look quaint and simple with its baby-blue flowers and its white downy -stem? Ah, I warrant me you have had borage in your wine ere this—but you -never knew why or how it came there! Oh, sir, it is no less—on -authority, mark me—than one of the four great cordial flowers most -deserving of esteem for cheering the spirits. The other three are the -violet, the rose, and alkanet. And what the alkanet is I should much -like to know!” - -... “You know so much,” he said, “that I have no thought to spare for -what you do not know.” - -“Sarcastic again—take care, cousin! Do not mock at Jupiter’s own -cordial. And I tell you more, sir: conjoined with hellebore—black -hellebore—that dark and gloomy plant will, as one Robert Burton has it: - - ‘Purge the veins - Of Melancholy and cheer the Heart - Of those black fumes that make it smart; - And clear the brain of misty fogs - Which dull our senses, our souls’ clogs.... - -“It’s a favourite quotation of my father’s. Would you drink of it, if I -brewed it for you?” - -There fell a sudden silence—a something dividing their pleasant warmth -of sympathy as of a chill breeze blowing between them. And she knew a -thoughtless word had struck upon his hidden sore. She stood, as if -convicted, with eyes averted from his face. Then he spoke: - -“Every man in his youth brews the cup of his own life and spends his age -in drinking of it, willy nilly. Sometimes, I think, it is blind fate -that has gathered the ingredients to his hand. Sometimes I see they are -but the choice of his own perversity. But once brewed, he must drink, be -they bitter or sweet.” - -“Cousin—” she began timidly. Then, after her woman’s way, courage came -to her on a sudden turn of passion: “I’ll not believe it!” she cried, -flashing upon him. “Throw the poison away, David. There is glad wine yet -in this beautiful world.” - -His face relaxed as he looked upon her; the gloomy cloud passed from it. -But the melancholy remained. - -“Do you remember,” said he, “for I too can quote—what Lady Macbeth says: -‘All the perfumes of Araby cannot sweeten this little hand!’ My bright -cousin, believe me, there is a bitterness which no sweetness that ever -was distilled, nay, I fear, not even such as you could distil, can ever -mitigate. Have you not learned,” he added, and a certain inner agitation -made his lips twitch and the pupils of his eyes dilate and found a -distant echo in his voice as of some roaring waters deeply hidden—“have -you not learned, over your father’s crucibles and phials, that the -sweetest essence does but lose its nature and become bitter too for -ever, when mingled with but a few drops of the acrid draught. Ellinor, I -have warned you already.” - -She felt as if some cold hand had been laid on her heart:—here spoke -again the voice of the sick soul determined to renounce. And here was -the one man in her whole world, to whom she would so fain give -extravagantly. There are natures to which love means taking only; others -to which it means giving all. How she would have given! The ache of the -tide thrust back upon her heart rose to her very throat. She went white, -even to her brave lips. But still they smiled, as women’s lips will -smile in such straits. - -“You mind me,” she said, “that I was after all forgetting to gather the -hellebore. ’Tis a dark drug-plant, cousin and loves the shade; and, if -the old simplers speak truth, it must be gathered before a ray of sun -shall of a morning have opened its green petals. I see that I must -hurry. Already the shadow of your grey tower is shortening across the -beds.” - -She took her basket from his arm, gave him a little nod as of dismissal -and passed quickly from him. He let her go without a word or a gesture, -standing still, wrapt in himself, with eyes downcast. Those deep waters -in his soul, that for so many long years had lain black and -stagnant—what was it that had so stirred them of late days, that they -should rise in waves like the salt and bitter sea and dash against his -laboriously built dykes of peace and renunciation? - - -Ellinor was long on her knees beside the hellebore, not indeed that she -was busy picking it, for her hands lay idly before her. With eyes fixed -unseeingly upon its dark, poisonous looking tufts, she was tasting the -savour of a slow gathering tear. Suddenly she felt her cousin’s presence -again close upon her and began feverishly to tear at the plant, every -energy of her mind bent upon concealing her weakness. In another moment, -with a sweetness that was almost overpowering, she knew that he was -kneeling beside her, his shoulder to her shoulder, his hands over hers. - -“Dear Ellinor,” he said softly in her ear, “I do not like to see you -touch this poisonous plant, let me——” And then, breaking off, when she -turned her face, so close to his, as if irresistibly drawn to seek his -glance: “Forgive me!” he cried, with more emotion than she had ever -heard his measured tones express before. “By what right am I always thus -casting upon your happy heart the shadow of my gloom!” - -Her fingers closed passionately round his. - -“David,” she said, almost in a whisper, “don’t forget I too have known -suffering. David you were wrong just now. The sweet and the bitter work -together make wholesome beverage. And see, for that do I gather -hellebore that it may blend with the borage. Did I not tell you so? -And—ah, forgive, but I must say it, sometimes the bitterness and the -sorrow are not real, only fancied.... And then it may be that real -adversity must come to make us see it. And even then, if we do see it, -sweet are the uses of adversity!” - -“Why, then, I could believe,” he answered her, and his deep voice still -thrilled with that note of emotion that was so inexpressibly musical to -her ear, “that if a man were to be comforted by such as you, he might -find a sweetness even in adversity—that is,” he added on a yet deeper -note, “did he dare let himself be comforted.” - -She sighed and dropped her hands from his; took up her basket and rose -to her feet. He also rose hastily, as if ashamed of his emotion, and -once more wrapped reserve around him like a mantle. Presently he said, -in that slightly jesting manner that never lost touch with melancholy: - -“Your father has long been looking for the lost ‘Star-of-Comfort.’ Your -father is an amiable materialist and believes that a right-chosen drug -can minister to a mind diseased. I fear me it will prove to him as frail -a quest as that of the Fern Seed of invisibility and the Lotos of -forgetfulness—and such like dreams of unattainable good!” - -“You are wrong, wrong again!” Although the moisture she scorned to brush -away was still in her eyes, the smile was on her lip once more; and the -dimple by it—a triumphant dimple. - -“How so?” he asked. - -“Why, sir, you once were a truer prophet than now you wot of. Did you -not foretell to me, on the first day of my return, that I might help him -to find it? The lost plant was, according to Master Ralph Prynne (of -fragrant memory) well-known at one time in the south of France where, -says he, upon diligent search it may even now be discovered among ruins -and rocks!” Here she resumed her mock didactic manner. “‘It is my -belief,’ says he, ‘that the gay and singularly careless temper of these -peoples is due in great part to the ancient custom of brewing it into -the wine they did drink of—whereby their sons and daughters did inherit -the happy tendencies engendered in themselves—and splenetic melancholy -which sits so black on many of our country is never known among them.’” - -“A wondrous drug!” said David. - -“So I thought,” she retorted; and, with a mocking glance at him, went -on: “And knowing how many indeed stand in need of it here, I who had -recently come myself from the south of France, resolved to get him the -seed or root, if such were to be obtained. Master Prynne gives a very -detailed description and I have a good memory. There was one, a wise -woman I knew of, who was learned in simples. In fine, sir, turn and -behold!” - -She twisted him round, led him a pace or two forward, and pointed. - -On a shallow bed, sloping to due south, screened from the north and -prepared with a kind of rockery clothed with mingled sand and heather -soil, a hardy-looking dwarf plant was growing in thick patches. And -sundry small but vigorous off-shoots, darting here and there gave -promise that they would soon cover the bed and overhang its rocky -borders. The full sunshine blazed down upon it, and the minute bright -and bold blossoms that gemmed it already in places looked like stars of -bluish flame among the lustrous dark green leaves. - -“Behold!” repeated Ellinor, with a dramatic gesture. - -There was a stimulating aromatic fragrance in the air. The morning sun -which had just emerged from the edge of the keep bore down upon them -with an effulgence as yet merely grateful. A band of puzzled bees was -hovering musically above the last attractive new-comer in the herbary. -David looked from the flourishing bed to the straight, strong figure, -the brave countenance of his cousin. - -“And so you have succeeded,” he said with a look of smiling wonder. -“Succeeded where Master Simon has sought in vain so many years! -Everything you touch seems to prosper.” - -Some realisation of that spirit of gay perseverance which had been so -beneficently active in his neglected house all these months, beneath -whose influence flowers of order and brightness seemed to have sprung -up, magic and fragrant as the lost “Star-of-Comfort” itself, kindled a -new light in the eye he now kept fixed upon her. It was a realisation, a -sense of admiration, distinct from the ever-present, albeit -hardly-conscious attraction. He looked back at the flame-starred -creeping shrub. - -“So there blooms Master Simon’s True-Grace, this _Euphrosinum_, his -Star-of-Comfort, after all these years,” he went on musingly. - -And the sense of her presence was intermingled with the penetrating -fragrance of the strange flower, the music of bees and bird call, the -fanning of the breeze, and the warmth of the sun. - -“In Persian,” she resumed, “they call it _Rustian-al-Misrour_—the -‘Plant-of-Heart’s-Joy’ is the meaning of it, so Prynne tells us. It was -brought to Europe by the Crusaders, but lost in the destruction of -monastery gardens in England, and fell into disuse elsewhere—and thus -came to be regarded as a myth. But things are not myths because we lose -them,” she added wistfully. “Who knows, sometimes the joy we deem lost -is under our hand.” She picked off a branchlet and absently nibbled it. -And her light breath, already sweet as of clover or lavender, came -wafted across spiced with this new fragrance. - -“Well,” said he then slowly, “according to the bygone simplers, there it -lies. Ellinor, when you brew me a cordial of the Star-of-Comfort, I -shall drink it.” - -“I may mind you of that promise one day,” said she. - -Then, upon the little pause that ensued, she looked at the shortening -shadows and the skies and said, in her womanly, careful manner, that it -was time for her to be in the dairy. At the garden gate, however, he -paused. - -“And under the influence of what star,” he asked, “is the wondrous plant -supposed to bloom?” - -She could not guess from his manner whether he spoke in jest or in -earnest, but she answered him mischievously, as she turned the key in -the lock: “Master Prynne was silent on this point; and nowhere could I -find news of it. But we are quite safe, cousin David, for I planted the -first cutting myself under your new star.” - -He started ever so slightly. - -“Did you indeed?” he murmured dreamily. - -“But I don’t know its name yet. Tell me, you must have given your new -star a name by now—for I think it grows brighter night by night.” - -In silence he let his deep gaze rest for a moment upon her, then -answered: - -“To me it is still nameless, though meaning things beyond words.” - -He paused, and went on, still compassing her with his absorbed look. -“You and the star came to me together—shall I not call it also,” with a -gesture at the flowering bed, “Euphrosine—Star-of-Comfort?” - -These words, accompanied by the glance that seemed to give them so -earnest a significance, troubled Ellinor strangely. She could find no -response. She drew the key from the lock and was moving forward with -downcast eyes when he laid his touch lightly upon her arm. - -“Thank you,” said he, “for admitting me into your enchanted garden! Some -morning when the dawn birds are calling, or some evening before the -stars come out, may I knock at this gate again?” - -“Nay, David,” cried she, with swift uplifted eyes, holding out to him -the key on the impulse of her leaping heart, “this gate must never be -locked for you! My father has another—take this one!” - -His fingers closed upon her hand and then he took the brown key and -looked at it. - -“For you and me alone,” he said. - -She knew then that this hour they had spent together in the -dew-besprinkled closes was to him as sacred and as sweet as it would -ever be to her. But now he had folded his lips together and went beside -her in silence. - - - - - CHAPTER III - A QUEEN OF CURDS AND CREAM - - And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them cheer, - · · · · · - And stood behind and waited ... - And seeing her so sweet and serviceable, - Geraint had longing in him evermore - To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb - That crost the trencher as she laid it down. - —TENNYSON (_Idylls_). - - -At the end of the lane, Ellinor took the path which branched off to the -courtyards; and, as she made no movement of farewell or dismissal, the -master of the place, with great simplicity, followed her. These -courtyards were located in the most ancient part of Bindon, where in -mediæval days had been the inner bailey. What remained of the lowered -towers and curtains had been utilised for the peaceful purposes of -spences, bakehouses and dairies. - -As in the case of all buildings, the life of which has gradually -dwindled, these precincts had gathered to themselves a mellow and placid -picturesqueness. Long tranquil years had clothed them with luxuriance. -It was as if the green tide of surrounding nature had taken delight in -reconquering the whilom bare array of stone and mortar. Rampant ivies -and wild creeping plants had long ago stormed the half-razed ramparts -from the outside, and unchecked in their assault now pounced into the -yards over the roofs. On the inside the blush roses were foaming up the -grey walls; the square of grass in this shaded spot was deeply green. - -In the early light and the silence it was a scene of singular placidity -and fitted well with David’s unwontedly pleasant mood; mood of tired -body and vaguely happy mind. A few pigeons from the high-reared cot came -fluttering down and walked about, curtseying expectantly. - -Presently two milk-maids, in print frocks, sun bonnets and clogs, -clattered down some stairs and went in quickly through the dairy door, -agitated at perceiving the task-mistress up before them. Their entrance -broke the musing spell of the two unavowed lovers. As they drew near the -open door of the house, the cool breath of the dairy—a sort of cowslip -breath, of much cleanliness, mingled with the faintly acrid sweetness of -the milk—came to their nostrils. A row of shining pails were ranged upon -the low stone bench just outside the door. A lad and maid hurried past, -each carrying two more foaming buckets. - -Ellinor now became the decided, almost stern, mistress of household -matters. She counted the milk pails and gave an order to each maid, who -curtseyed and stood at attention, but could not keep a roving, awestruck -eye from the unwonted spectacle of their master. - -“Rosemary, three pails for the dairy, as usual. Two for the house: up -with them, Kate! Sally, back to your skimming as soon as you have filled -the steward’s can and carried in the pail for the parish dole out of the -sunshine. Stay a moment,” her tone and manner altered, “leave one of -those here—Cousin David, have you broken your fast? Of course not! Then -you and I, shall we not do so now together? Nay, I shall be disappointed -if you refuse. You have made me queen of these realms—the ‘queen of -curds and cream,’ as Doctor Tutterville calls me—and all must obey me -here!” - -There was a stone porch jutting forth over the side door that led into -the passage. Within this refuge, on either side, was set a stone bench -under an unglazed ogee window. Honeysuckle had intermingled its growth -with that of the climbing roses, and made there a parlour of perfume. -Hither Ellinor conducted the lord of Bindon, and here he allowed himself -to be installed, obeying her as one who walks in dreams and is glad to -dream on. - -The maids had parted in noisy flight, each on her different errand, -starched gowns crackling, clogs clacking, pails clinking as they went. -Ellinor threw down her cloak and her basket and disappeared, light as -the lapwing, rejoicing with all a woman’s joy to minister to the -beloved. She returned with a little wooden table, which, smiling, she -set before him and was gone again. This time it was out into the yard -and into the dairy, and her head flashed in a sun-shaft. When she -reappeared, she was walking more slowly, and between her hands was a -yellow glazed bowl brimming with new-drawn milk. - -“For you, Sir David,” she said. - -It was foaming and fragrant of clover blossom as he lifted it to his -lips. - -“And now,” she went on, “you shall taste of my baking. I had a batch set -last night and the rolls ought to be crisp to a touch.” - -The following minute brought her back, flushed and triumphant, bearing -on a tray a smoking brown loaflet, a ray of amber honey and a rustic -basket full of strawberries. She paused a second reflectively, and -cried: - -“A pat of fresh-churned butter!” - -And again his eyes watched her cross the shaft of sunshine and come -back, and they were the eyes of a man gazing on a dear and lovely -picture. - -“Now, David, is this not a breakfast fit for a king?” - -He looked at the table and then at her; and then put down the loaf his -long fingers had been absently crushing. - -“And you?” he asked and rose. “You—the queen?” - -“I? Oh, I think I forgot myself. Oh, don’t get up, David. Don’t, please! -You cannot imagine how much refreshed I shall feel when you have eaten. -There, then, I will sit beside you. But as there is no pleasure in -waiting upon oneself, I must call up a court menial. Katy! A bowl of -milk for me. Rosemary, another roll from the oven!” - - -This was to remain a memory of gold in Ellinor’s life. Poets may sing as -they will of the joys of mutual love confessed. But there is an hour -more exquisite yet in man and woman’s life: the hour of love still -untold. The hour of trembling hopes and uncertainties; of ecstasies -hidden away in the inmost sanctuary of the being; of dreams so much more -beautiful than reality; of thoughts that no words can clothe and music -that no instrument can render. Hour of doubt which is to certainty as -the dawn is to the day, as mystery is to revelation: as much more -enthralling, as much more exquisite. - -Even as the soul is constrained by the body, so must the ideal thought -lose of its fragrance when limited to the spoken word. But the very -condition of life’s tenure urges us to hasten ever onwards towards the -success of attainment. We may not sit and taste the full sweetness of -the present because our foreseeing nature and old Time are spurring us -on, on! This present of ours is fleeting enough, God knows. Yet the -miserable restlessness within us robs us of the minute even while it is -ours. Thus the most perfect things in our lives will ever be a memory. -But when the golden hours have all tolled for us, when the flowers are -all withered, at least we can look back and say: “That was my sunrise -hour. ... That was my perfect rose!” - - -They spoke little to each other, but Ellinor saw the lines of melancholy -fade out of his face and become replaced by soft restfulness. Tired he -looked, the watcher of the night, in the broad radiance of the day, but -happy. It was as if the fatigue itself brought a sense of peace, lulling -him to dreaminess and depriving him of the energy to fight against the -sweetness of the moment. - -Suddenly, with the light tread of a cat, the squat figure of Mrs. -Nutmeg, in her decent widow’s black and her snowy mutch, came upon them -from the house. She paused with a start of such extreme surprise that it -was in itself an impertinence, and the more galling because it could not -be resented. Ignoring the scarlet-cheeked Ellinor, the housekeeper -dropped her curtsey and offered ostentatious excuses to Sir David. - -“I humbly ask your pardon, sir. Indeed, sir, I had no idea, or I would -not have made so bold as to intrude. I hope, sir, you’ll forgive me for -disturbing you at such a moment!” - -Her eye roved as she spoke over the disordered table, aside to Ellinor’s -cloak and the basket of withering herbs; then back to Ellinor herself, -where it deliberately measured every detail—the dusty shoe, the green -stains on the gown, the flushed brow, the disordered hair. - -Her unconscious master waved his hand a little impatiently with his -formal “Good morrow,” that was more a dismissal than a greeting. Mrs. -Nutmeg returned Sir David’s brief salutation with another unctuous -curtsey. Withdrawing her glance from Ellinor, she fixed it upon his -face, with a vain attempt to throw an expression of tender solicitude -into the opaque white and the meaningless black of her eye. - -“Excuse the liberty, sir,” she began again, “but do you feel quite -yourself this morning? It do go to my heart to see how drawn and ill you -be looking! I fear these last months, sir, you haven’t been as usual. -Not at all. More has remarked it than myself.” - -Ellinor rose. - -“It’s getting late, Margery,” she said, “and the cream is not skimmed -yet. Ring the bell for the girls.” - -“Yes, ma’am,” Margery curtseyed, her eyes still clinging unwaveringly to -her master’s face. This was now turned upon her with a sudden frown. - -“Do you not hear?” said Sir David. - -They robbed him freely in his absence, this household of his, but none -could forget in his presence that he was master. - -“Yes, sir, yes ma’am. I ask your pardon,” said Mrs. Nutmeg. - -And this time there was flurry in her step as she moved away, her list -slippers padding on the flags. She cast not another glance behind her; -yet Ellinor felt chilled, she knew not why. Upon the dial that had -marked her warm-tinted hour a grey shadow had fallen. She took up her -basket of herbs. Most of the perishable things were already withering, -but the dry vivacious stems of the Star-of-Comfort flaunted their glossy -leaves and their tiny brilliant blossom undimmed. She noticed this, and -was superstitiously glad. - -“I must go, cousin,” she said, “but later, if you will, I shall come and -help on with the new chart.” - -She nodded and left him. As she moved across the courtyard towards her -father’s den, the maids, hustling each other as they clacked into the -dairy, looked after her with inimical stare. Then one whispered to the -other, and the other nudged back, while the third surreptitiously shook -her mottled fist. And as Ellinor walked on with steady step she knew it -all. She knew that “the Queen of curds and cream” sat on an insecure -throne; and that, were the power that had placed her there to be -withdrawn from her, many eager hands would be stretched out to pull her -into the mire. - -But upon the first step leading down to the laboratory, she turned and -cast a glance back: in the deep shadow of the porch David was still -standing. Out of the dark face the light eyes were watching her; when -she turned, he smiled and waved his hand. And her spirits rose again as -she ran down the stairs, to begin her long round of various work. She -had stuck a sprig of the Euphrosinum in her kerchief; and during the -whole day, whether over crucible or household book, in linen closet or -still-room, each time the scent of it was wafted to her nostrils there -came and went upon her lips a little secret smile, as if the fragrant -thing on her bosom were but the symbol of some inner fragrance rising in -little fitful storms from her heart. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - OPEN-EYED CONSPIRACY - - Let me loose thy tongue with wine: - - - No, I love not what is new: - She is of the ancient house, - And I think we know the hue - Of that cap upon her brows! - —TENNYSON (_Vision of Sin_). - - -Old Giles, in the plate-room! Old Giles, butler of Bindon and -confidential servant to Sir David, sunk in his wooden armchair and his -head inclined till his double chin rested on his greasy stock, surveying -with distasteful eye the mug of small-ale on the table before him. - -A stout old man with a reddening nose may be no unpleasant picture if -superabundance of flesh and misplacement of carmine bear witness to -jollity and good cheer; but oh lamentable spectacle if melancholy droop -that ruby nose; if fat cheeks hang disconsolate! Then for every added -ounce of avoirdupois is added a pound of misery. Your melancholy thin -man is fitted by nature to bear his burden, but the sad fat man seems to -deliquesce, to collapse—so much in his case is affliction against the -obvious design of nature! - - -From the inner pantry door Margery stood a moment and contemplated her -fellow servant awhile, with an air of deeper commiseration than her -usually set visage was wont to express. Then she carefully closed the -door and advanced to the table. In her rolled up apron she was clasping -something with both hands. - -“Eh,” she said, in a long drawn note, “it do go to my heart, Mister -Giles, to see you so cast down!” - -The butler rolled his lack-lustre eye from the mug of beer to the -housekeeper’s countenance; then his underlip began to tremble. - -“Ah,” he answered, “that stuff is killing me, Mrs. Nutmeg. The cold of -it on my stomach! It’ll creep up to my heart some of these nights, it -will! And that will be the end of poor old faithful Giles!” - -A tear twinkled on his vast cheek. He stretched out his hand for the -glass, gulped a mouthful of it and replaced it on the table, drawing -down the corners of his mouth into a grimace not unlike that which in an -infant heralds a burst of wailing. - -“Cold, cruel, poisonous stuff, that lies as heavy as heavy! Half a -caskful, ma’am will not stimulate a man as much as half a wineglassful -of port-wine or sherry-wine. It’s murder—that’s what it is!” - -“Murder it is,” assented Margery. She took the glass and threw its -contents into the grate: sympathy personified. Then she began to move -about the room with an air of so much mystery that Giles’ attention was -faintly roused in something external to himself and to the odiousness of -small-ale. - -Mrs. Nutmeg went to the pantry door, listened a moment with stooped -head, then released her right hand from the enfolded object and turned -the key in the lock. Stepping to the high-set window, she next squinted -east and west, as if to make sure that no watchers were about; then -returned to the table, slowly unrolled her apron and displayed to the -butler’s astonished gaze a black bottle, cobwebbed, dust-crusted, -red-sealed—a bottle of venerable appearance and, to the initiated, of -Olympian promise. With infinite precaution she tilted it into a vertical -position and placed it on the table, displaying in so doing the dusty -streak of whitewash which had marked the upper side of its repose these -twenty years. Into old Giles’ expressionless stare leaped a light of -rapturous recognition. - -“The Comet port, by gum! The port from the fifth bin!” - -He raised himself in his chair and, as if sight were not enough for -conviction, began with trembling hands to caress the bottle, and -smacking his lips as if the taste were already upon them. Margery -surveyed him with her head slightly on one side. - -“How—how did you get it?” he babbled, now sniffing at the seal, his red -nose laid fondly first on one side then on the other. - -“Never you mind,” said she, “I’m not the one to stand by and see old -service drove to death by stinginess nor yet by interference. There’s -more where it came from.” - -“The last bottle we drank together,” interrupted he, “was the first to -break in upon the sixth dozen. Six dozen, minus one, seventy-one -bottles. That makes——” - -“Seventy bottles still,” said she. “Enough to warm your heart again for -many a long day.” She stooped, and whipped out a corkscrew from one of -her capacious pockets. - -“Give me that bottle, Mister Giles.” - -She lifted it from his grasp. He raised his hands, protesting, -quivering. - -“For Heaven’s sake, don’t shake it, ma’am! Don’t shake it! It’s thirty -year old, if it’s a day. Oh, Lord, Mrs. Nutmeg, give it to me, ma’am!” - -She cast one swift, contemptuous glance upon him. - -“I think my wrist is steadier than yours,” she remarked drily, while -with the neatest precision she inserted the point of the corkscrew into -the middle of the seal. - -“’Tis the yale,” he palpitated. - -“Oh, aye,” said she, “the ale, of course.” She smiled in her sleek way -while she turned the corkscrew. “Here,” she added, “is what will steady -them for a while at any rate.” - -The cork came forth with a chirp that once more brought the fire to the -toper’s eye. - -“Ho, ho!” he cried, every crease in his face that had before spelt -despondency now wreathing rapture. - -“Wait a bit,” she bade him, still keeping her strong hand on the bottle -neck. She dived into the left pocket and brought forth a short cut-glass -beaker. “You’re not going,” said she, “to drink Sir David’s Comet port -out of a mug!” - -She poured it out, gently tilting the venerable bottle. He could hardly -wait till the gorgeous liquid garnet had brimmed to the edge, before -grasping the glass. But palsied as his hands were not a drop did they -spill. A mouthful first, to let the taste of it lie on his palate; -another to roll round his tongue; then unctuously, as slowly as was -compatible with the act of swallowing, the ichor of the grape destined -to warm a high-born heart and to illumine the workings of a noble mind, -was sent to kindle the base fires of Sir David’s thieving old servant. - -“Ah!” - -He took a deep-drawn breath of utter satisfaction, reached for the -bottle, boldly poured himself forth another glass and drank again. -Motionless, the woman watched. - -“As good a bottle,” said he garrulously, “as ever came out of the bin! -’Twas of the laying of the good Sir Everard—Sir David’s grandfather, you -mark, Mrs. Nutmeg. You wasn’t in these parts then. Ah, a judge of wine -he was. I tell ye I could pick every drop he had bottled blindfold this -minute, at the first taste. He and Master Rickart, Lord, what wild times -they had together! Ah, he was a blade in those days, was old Rickart. -Now——’Tis well there’s someone left at Bindon that knows the valley of -precious liquor, for it’s been disgusting, I assure you, ma’am. There’s -master had nothing but the light clary—French stuff—and not known the -differ these five years! Well, well, ’twould have broken Sir Everard’s -heart, but”—piously, “there’s one left as remembers him and his tastes. -May I offer you a thimbleful, Mrs. Nutmeg? ’Tis as good as a cordial!” - -He was once more the man of importance: the steward dispensing his -master’s goods with a fine air of hospitality. - -“No, Mister Giles, I thank you kindly,” said the lady. Then she measured -him again with one of her deep looks, marked the hand which he was -stretching out for the port and suddenly whipped the desired object from -its reach. Her calculated moment had come.—The butler’s limbs had lost -their palsied trembling and there was some kind of speculation in his -eye. - -“No, Mister Giles,” she said, as he gaped at her. “I came here for a -little chat, if you please. You’re feeling more yourself again?” - -The memory of his injuries, forgotten for the brief span of ecstasy, -returned in full force. His lip drooped. - -“Aye, ma’am, a little, a little. But I am sadly weak.” - -He pushed his glass tentatively forward, but she ignored the hint. - -“I thought you was a-dying by inches before my eyes,” she announced -deliberately. - -The red face opposite to her grew mottled grey and purple. Mr. Giles -began to whimper: - -“So I was, ma’am. So I be!” - -Margery sat down and, clasping the bottle with both her determined -hands, leaned her head on one side of it. - -“Another month of small-ale,” she said, “would bring you to your grave, -Mister Giles. Aye, you may groan. How many bottles be left of this old -port? Seventy ye said. And there be as good besides.” - -“The East India sherry,” said he, the light of his one remaining -interest flickering up again in the aged sockets. “Oh, it’s a beauty, -that wine is! As dry, ma’am, and as mellow!” He smacked his tongue. “And -there’s the Madeiry, got at the Dook of Sussex’s sale. ‘Royal wine,’ -says Sir Everard to me. And Royal wine it is! But you know the taste of -it yourself. Then there are the Burgundy bins. Women folk,” said Mr. -Giles, “have that inferiority, they can’t appreciate red wine. But -there’s Burgundy down in my cellars that I’d rather go to bed on a -bottle of as even of the Comet port.” - -Margery broke in with a short laugh. - -“Yes, yes,” said she; “I’ll warrant there is good stuff in your cellars. -But who’s got the key of them now, if I may make so bold?” - -Once again the toper was brought up to the sense of present limitations -as by the tug of a merciless bit cunningly handled. With open mouth and -starting eyes he paused, and the dark, senile blood rushed up to his -face. Then he struck the table with his hand: - -“That vixen of old Rickart’s, blast her!” - -“And he—the daft old gentleman,” Margery’s voice dropped soft, as oil -trickling down to fire, “eating the bread of charity, one may say, -without so much as doing a stroke of work to save the shame of it!” - -“Blast him!” cried Giles, with another thump. - -“Oh, yes, when I brought you that bottle, I told you there was more -where it came from. But the question is, who’s to have it, Mr. Giles! Is -it all to be for that clever young lady and her crazy old father—that’s -come like cuckoos to settle at Bindon, and bamfoozle that poor innocent -gentleman, Sir David, and oust us as has served him so faithful and so -long?” - -“No, no, no!” cried old Giles, “blast ’em, blast ’em!” - -Margery put her finger to her lip with a long drawn “Hush!” and glanced -warningly round the room, though indeed, stronghold as it was, there was -little fear of the sound escaping to the outer world. She then poured -out a measured half glass and pushed it towards the butler, corked the -bottle, placed it on the top of the safe; and betaking herself once -again to her inexhaustible pockets, drew forth one after another and set -in their turn upon the table a small unopened bottle of ink, a goose -quill pen, of which she tested the nib, and a large sheet of paper, -which she unfolded and smoothed. - -“Now, Mr. Giles,” said she sharply. - -He was absently sucking his empty glass and started to look upon her -preparations uncomprehendingly. - -“You write a fine hand,” said she, picking the stopper out of the inkpot -with the point of the corkscrew. - -“Ah,” said he, “my cellar book was a sight to see! It’s lain useless -these six months. But so long,” he said, proudly but sadly, “as I kept -the keys no one can say but as I kept the book.” - -So he had indeed, with a quaint fidelity; and amazing reading it would -have proved to the casual inspector, who would have founded wild -opinions of Sir David’s and his cousin’s prowesses in the matter of -toping. - -“Do you want the keys back?” asked Margery, in a quiet whisper, “or is -this to be the last bottle of port you’ll ever taste?” - -He stared at her, his moist lip working. She seemed to find the answer -sufficient, for she motioned him into his seat. - -“Then you sit down and write,” said she, “and I promise you Bindon shall -get his rights again, and our good master’s quiet, comfortable house be -rid of her that brings no good to it.” - -Giles sat down submissively, dipped the quill into the ink, manipulated -it with the flourish of the proud penman; then, squaring his wrists flat -on the sheet, prepared to start. - -“I’d never have troubled you,” explained Margery, apologetically, “had I -had your grand education, Mr. Giles.” - -“Who be I to write to?” said Giles, with the stern air of the male mind -controlling the female one, as it would wander from the point. - -Again Margery whispered, not for fear of listeners, but to give the -allurement of mystery to her purpose: - -“To the Lady Lochore,” said she. - -The pen dropped from Giles’ fingers, making a great blot at the top of -the sheet, which Margery, with clacking tongue, deftly mopped up with a -corner of her apron. Consternation and awe wrote themselves on the -butler’s face. Faithless old ingrate as he was, robbing with remorseless -system the hand that fed him, something of family spirit, some sense of -clanship, still existed in his muddled mind. Enough of their master’s -secrets had filtered to the household for everyone to know that his only -sister had wedded the man who, under the pretending cloak of friendship, -had done him mortal injury; and that from the moment she had thus given -herself to his enemy, the lord of Bindon had cut her off from his life. -But there were things beside, which old Giles alone knew; which he had -kept to himself, even after his long devotion to the Bindon cellars had -wreaked havoc upon the intelligence of his conscience. - -It was but ten years back when a mounted messenger had brought the -tidings to Sir David of the birth of an heir to the house of Lochore: -heir also, as matters now stood, to the childless house of Bindon. Giles -had conducted this messenger to Sir David’s presence. Giles had stood by -and watched his master’s pale face grow death livid as he listened to -the envoy’s tale, had seen him recoil from even the touch of his -kinsman’s letter. It was Giles who had received the curt instructions: -“Take the messenger away, give him food, rest and drink, and let him -ride and bear back to Lord Lochore that letter he has sent me.” And now -old Giles looked up into Margery’s inscrutable face, and cried with -echoes of forgotten loyalty in his husky voice: - -“Write to Miss Maud?—to my Lady, I mean. Nay, nay, Mrs. Nutmeg, I’ll not -do that!” - -“Ah,” said Mrs. Nutmeg. - -She had been standing over his shoulder, showing more eagerness than her -wont, and licking her lips over the words she was about to dictate to -him, while a light shone in her eyes that was never kindled so long as -she was under observation. At the check of his words the old sleek -change came over her. The curtain of impassiveness fell over her -countenance. The gleam went out in her eyes. She came quietly round, sat -down, opposite him and, folding her hands, let them rest on the table -before her. - -“Ah,” said she, “it do go again the grain, don’t it, Mr. Giles? And if -it was not for Sir David——” - -Giles meanwhile, having pushed the writing materials on one side, had -risen and helped himself freely again to the Comet port, drinking -courage to his own half-repented resolution, a babble of disjointed -phrases escaping from him in the intervals of his gulps. “No, he could -not go against Sir David—poor old man, not many years to live—served his -father’s father. Eh, and Sir Edmund had put him into these arms; and he -but a babe—the greatest toper in the house, says Sir Edmund...” Here -there was a chuckle and a tear, and a fresh glass poured out. - -Margery never blinked towards the bottle. Unfolding her hands, she -presently began to smooth out the writing paper, and by-and-bye began to -speak. At first it was a merely soothing trickle of talk. No one knew -Mr. Giles’ high-mindedness and nobility of character better than she -did; though, indeed, she herself was but a new-comer at Bindon, compared -to him—the third of his generation in the service of the house, and -himself the servant of three Cheveral masters. By-and-bye, from this -primrose path of flattery she turned aside into less smooth ground. -Something she said of the real duties of old service, of the mistaken -duty of blind submission. There was a dark hint of Sir David’s -helplessness, a prey to designing intruders—“and him as easy to cheat as -a child!” A tear here welled to Mistress Margery’s eyelid; there was no -doubt she spoke as one whose knowledge was first hand. - -Mister Giles knew best, of course; but, in her humble opinion, it was an -old servitor’s bounden duty to let their master’s nearest relative know. -Here Margery became very dark again; things are so much more terrible -when merely hinted at. The butler’s hand halted with the sixth glass on -the way to his lips; he put it down again untasted. - -“Who’s to look after Master, I should like to know?” asked Margery -boldly, “when you and I and all the old faithful folk is turned out of -Bindon, and that deep young lady and Master Rickart reign alone, with -their poisons and their powders?” - -“By gum!” cried Giles, with a shout, thumping the table, so that the -precious wine this time slopped over its barrier. “By gum! hand me that -paper, and say your say, ma’am, and I’ll write it!” - -The man was just tipsy enough already to be easily worked up, and unable -to analyse the means by which his passion was roused; not too tipsy to -be a perfectly capable instrument in the housekeeper’s hands. - - -The following was the letter that Giles, the butler of Bindon, wrote to -“the Lady Lochore,” at her house in London: - - MY LADY.—Trusting you will excuse the liberty and in the hopes this - finds your Ladyship well, as is the humble wish of the writer. My - Lady, I have not been the servant of your Ladyship’s brother, my most - honoured master, Sir David Cheveral of Bindon, without knowing the sad - facts of family divisions between yourself and Sir David. But, my - Lady, wishing to do my duty by my master, as has always been my humble - endeavour, I should consider myself deaf to the Voice of Conscience, - did I not take the pen this day to let you know the state of affairs - at Bindon at this present time. - - Master Rickart’s daughter, Mistress Marvel, has come back to Bindon, - to live, and my Lady, she and her father is now master and mistress - here. Sir David being such as my Lady knows he is, different from - other people, is no match for such. - - My Lady, what the end of it will be no one can tell. None of us like - to think of it. What is said in the village and all over the country - already, is what I must excuse myself from writing, not being fit for - your Ladyship’s eyes. But as your Ladyship’s father’s old and trusted - servant, I am doing no less than my bounden duty, in warning your - Ladyship. - -Here Margery had halted, and flouted several eager suggestions on the -part of the faithful butler, who was anxious to mention poisons and -phials and black practises, who, moreover, had wished to introduce after -every sentence a detailed account of the unmerited cruelty practised -upon himself in forcing him to give up the keys of the family cellar, -and express his intimate persuasion of the restlessness thereby caused -to the good Sir Everard’s bones in their honoured grave. But Margery was -firm; and now, after due reflection, sternly commanded Mr. Giles’ -respects and signature. When this flourishing signature at length -adorned the page, Margery laid a flat finger below it. - -“Write: Post-Scriptum,” ordered she. “I humbly trust your Ladyship’s -little son is well. There was great joy among us when we heard of his -honoured birth. We was, up to now, all used to think of him as the heir -to Bindon.” - -Here she hesitated again; but finally, true to her instinct that -suggestion is more potent than explanation, demanded the folding of the -letter, its addressing and sealing. The latter duty she undertook -herself, with the help of the inexhaustible bag. And as she laid her -thumb on the hot wax, she smiled, well content, and allowed Giles to -finish the bottle and drown any possible misgivings. - - -As she left the room to watch for the post-boy, and herself place the -fruit of her morning labour in the bag, Giles, with tipsy gravity and -mechanical neatness, was posting his too long disused cellar book up to -date: - - June 24th., 1823. - Comet Port. Bin V. Bottle: One. - - - - - CHAPTER V - EVIL PROMPTER, JEALOUSY - - Great bliss was with them and great happiness - Grew, like a lusty flower, in June’s caress. - —KEATS (_Pot of Basil_). - - -July over the meadows, sweeter in death than in life, where the long -grass lay in swathes and the bared earth split and crumbled under the -fierce sun. July in the great woods, with leaves at their deepest green, -nobly still against the noble still azure, throwing blocks of green -shade in the mossy aisles and wondrous grey designs of leaf and branch -on the hardened ground. July in the drowsy hum of the laden bee; in the -birds’ silence and the insects’ orchestra—those undertones of -sounds—everywhere; July in the sweet hearted rose, in the plenitude of -summer fulfilment. July over garden and cornfield and purple moor.... - -So it had been all day, a long, gorgeous day, busy and yet lazy, full to -the brim of nature’s slow, ripe work. And now the evening had come; the -fires of the sunset had cooled and a deep-bosomed sky had begun to brood -over the teeming earth, lit only by the sickle of a young moon that had -hung, ghost-like, in the airs the whole afternoon. - -The fields of heaven were yet nearly as bare of stars as the meadows of -their murdered flowers; but here and there, with a sudden little leap -like a kindling lamp, some distant sun—white Vega or ruddy -Arcturus—began to send its gold or silver messages across the firmament -where the summer sun of our world held lingering monarchy. - -Ellinor had spent a long hot day in the parsonage, helping that pearl of -housewives, Madam Tutterville, with the potting of cherry jam. She had -come home across the fields with lagging step, drawing in the luxury of -the evening silence, the cool fragrance of the woods, the beauties of -the advancing night. She bore, as an offering, a handsome basketful of -rectory peaches, over which her soul was grateful: a proper dish to set -before him in whose service she took her joy. - -On re-entering the house, according to her usual wont, she at first -sought her father, but found the laboratory empty of any presence save -that of the herb-spirits singing in the throat of the retort. She made -no doubt then but that the simpler had sought the star-gazer’s high -seat. - -One result of her presence at Bindon had been the gradual drawing -together of the two men, with herself as a centring link. David was more -prone to come down from his tower and her father to come up from his -vault. And she took a sweet and secret pleasure in the quite unconscious -sense of grievance they would both display when her duty or her mood -took her for any length of time away from either of them. - -As she reached the foot of the tower stairs a hand was placed upon her -arm. She turned with that irrepressible inner revulsion which always -heralded to her Margery’s presence. - -“Asking your pardon, ma’am,” came the usual silky formula, “may I -inquire if you are going up to see my master?” - -“To be sure,” answered Ellinor quietly, though she blushed in the dark. -“Do you not see that I am going up to the tower?” - -“Yes, ma’am,” said Mrs. Nutmeg, humbly. “I made so bold as to trouble -you, ma’am, not wishing to intrude upon my master myself. The postman -left a letter, ma’am.” - -Mrs. Nutmeg drew the object in question from under her black silk apron. -Very white it shone in the gloom:—a large, oblong folded sheet, with a -black blotch in the centre where sprawled an enormous seal. - -“This letter, ma’am,” she repeated, “came this evening. Would you be -good enough to hand it yourself to my master?” - -Ellinor had a superstitious feeling that Margery Nutmeg was one day, -somehow, destined to bring misfortune upon her; and it was this perhaps -which always left her discomfited after even the most trivial interview -with the housekeeper. But determinedly shaking off the sensation, she -slipped the letter in her basket and began the ascent of the rugged -stairs. No matter how tired she might be, her foot was always light when -it led her to the tower, because her impatient heart went on before. - -Leaving the basket in the observatory, she retained the letter in her -hand, instinctively avoiding any scrutiny of its superscription, -although seen here in the lamplight the thought did strike her that it -looked like a woman’s writing. Sir David’s correspondence, as she knew, -was so scanty that the sealed missive might indeed mean an event in -their lives; and now the present was too full of delicate happiness for -her to welcome anything that might portend change. - -She stood for a moment on the threshold of the platform, looking out on -the two figures silhouetted against the sky. Her father, as usual in his -gown, seated on the stone ledge of the parapet, was speaking. David, -leaning against the wall with folded arms, was looking down at him. -Master Simon’s chuckle, followed by the rare low note of the -star-gazer’s laughter, fell upon her ear. - -“I do assure you,” the old man was saying, “it was the very surliest -fellow in the whole of Bindon village. A complete misanthropist, a -perfect curmudgeon! The poor woman would come to me in tears, with -sometime a black eye, sometime a swollen lip—I have known her actually -cut about the occiput. ‘My poor creature,’ I would say to her, ‘plaster -your wound I can, but alter your husband’s humours is at present beyond -my power.’” - -“Not having yet re-discovered the ‘Star-of-Comfort,’” interrupted David. - -The sound of that voice, gently sarcastic and indulgently mocking, had -become so dear to Ellinor that she lingered yet for the mere chance of -indulging her ear again unobserved. - -“Not having then re-discovered the _Euphrosinum_,” corrected Master -Simon, with emphasis on the word “then.” “But that excellent young -woman, my daughter, has been of service to me there.” - -“She has been of service everywhere.” - -This tribute brought joy to the listener. Forced by the turn the -conversation was taking to disclose her presence, she emerged upon the -platform, but took a seat beside her father’s in silence, the letter for -the moment quite forgotten in her pocket. - -“Ah, there is Ellinor!” - -Sir David had seen her coming first and was the first to greet her. She -thought, she hoped, there was gladness in the exclamation. - -“Eh, eh!” said Master Simon. “Back from the prophetess’s jam-pots?” He -fondled the hand she had laid on his knee. “Did the virtuous woman open -her mouth with wisdom, while you, my girl, girded your loins with -strength? We were talking of you, my girl. Ah, David, did I not do well -for both you and me, when I craved house-room at Bindon for this -Exception-to-her-Sex?” - -David did not answer. But in the gloom she felt his eye upon her, and -her heart throbbed. Master Simon, after a little pause, resumed the -thread of his discourse. - -“Ha, I am a mass of selfishness, a mass of selfishness! And the plant of -True Grace is found; the _Euphrosinum_ is found, Sir David Cheveral. -Found, planted, culled and tested.” The utmost triumph was in his -accents. “Aye, my dear young man, you will be rejoiced to hear that the -effects of this most precious of simples have in no wise been overrated -by the writers of old. They have far exceeded my most sanguine -expectation. Why, sir, I said to myself: this fellow, this John Cantrip -with his evil spleen, he has been marked by destiny for the first -experiment. I prepared a decoction, making it duly palatable (for if you -will remember your natural history, even bears like honey), I bade the -poor, much-tried wife—he had just deprived her of both her front -teeth—place a spoonful daily in his morning draught. That was a week -ago. She came here this morning ... you will hardly credit it——” - -The speaker paused, became absorbed in a delightful memory and began to -laugh softly to himself. And the infection again gained the listener. - -“Well, sir, has the bear turned to lamb? And is the dame content with -the metamorphosis?” - -“You will hardly credit it,” repeated the simpler, rubbing his hands, -“the silly woman was beside herself with the most intemperate passion. -There was no sort of abuse she did not heap upon me. She swears I have -bewitched her husband and that she will have the law of me. He, he! You -must know, David, the fellow is a carpenter; and, although his tempers -were objectionable, he was a good worker. Indeed, I gather that the -exasperated condition of his system found relief in the constant -hammering of nails, punching of holes, sawing and planing of hard -substance. But now——” Again delighted chuckle and mental review took the -place of speech. - -“Well?” asked Sir David. His tone was broken with an undercurrent of -laughter. Ellinor smiled in her dark corner. She compared this David, -interested and amused in human matters, pleasant of intercourse himself -and appreciative of another’s company, to the man of taciturn moods and -melancholy, who fed on his own morbid thought and fled from his fellow -men—to the David of but a few months ago. She knew it was her woman’s -presence that had, as if unconsciously, wrought the change. - -“Well?” said Sir David again. - -“My dear fellow,” cried Master Simon, breaking into a louder cackle. -“John Cantrip, as you say, has changed from a bear into a lamb; at least -from a sullen, dangerous animal into an exceedingly pleasant, -light-hearted one. He sings, he whistles, he laughs—all that cerebral -congestion, that nervous irritation, has been soothed away under the -balmy influence of this valuable plant. The excellent creature is able -to take delight in his life, in the beautiful objects of Nature around -him. He admires the blue sky, he rejoices in the seasonable heat, he -embraces his spouse—he will hang over his infant’s cradle and express a -tender, paternal desire to rock him to slumber. Every happy instinct has -been wakened, every morose one lulled. Would I could induce the -government of this land to enforce in each parish the cultivation of -_Euphrosinum_. My good sir, we should have no more need of prisons, or -stocks, or gallows!” - -“And yet you say,” quoth David, “that Mrs. Cantrip is dissatisfied.” - -“Most excellent David, from early days of the earth downwards, the woman -was ever the most unreasonable of all God’s creatures. She wants the -impossible, she wants the perfection of things, which is not of this -world. Instead of rejoicing, this foolish person complains.” - -“Complains?” - -“Oh, well, it seems the carpenter is now disinclined for work. I -endeavoured to explain to her that the morbid reason for his love of -hammering no longer exists. The good fellow is placid and content and an -agreeable companion. But the absurd female is tearing her hair! ‘What,’ -said I, ‘he has not struck you once since Saturday week, and you do not -rejoice?’ ‘Rejoice!’ she screams. ‘And he’s not struck a nail either.’ -‘If this happy effect continues,’ I assured her, ‘you will be able to -keep the remainder of your teeth.’ ‘I’ll have nothing to put between -them if it does,’ she responds. In vain I represented to her, -_mulier_—in short, that I, having done my part, it was now hers to -utilise these new dispositions for her own ends. She must beguile him -back to his everyday duties with tender smiles and womanly wiles—the -female’s place in nature being to play this part towards the ruder male. -But it was absolutely impossible to get her so much as to listen to me! -She vowed that she had lost all patience—which was indeed very -patent—that she had even clouted him (as she expressed it), without -producing any other result than a smile at her. ‘Grins,’ says she, ‘like -a zany!’ and with the want of logic of her sex, utterly fails to -perceive what a triumphant attestation she is making to the efficacy of -my plant.” - -“It is extremely droll,” said David. - -“Of course it will at once strike you,” pursued the old student, “that -the obvious course was to induce the dissatisfied lady to partake of the -soothing lotion herself. But, would you believe it? She became more -violently abusive than ever at the bare suggestion!” - -“Indeed,” said Ellinor, interrupting, “not only did she decline to make -any acquaintance herself with the remedy, but she brought back the jar, -with all that was left of our infusion, and vowed that she was well -punished for dealing with the Devil and his daughter. You know, cousin -David, I fear that I am rapidly gaining something of a reputation for -black art! I do not mind, of course. Only,” she faltered a little, “a -child ran from me in the village this morning. I was sorry for that.” - -David’s face grew scornful. Popularity was so poor a thing in his eyes, -that popular hate was not, he deemed, worth even a passing thought. But -Ellinor, who could not look upon the world from a tower and whose -self-allotted tasks lay, of necessity, much among the humble many, had -not this lofty indifference. She knew she had already more enemies than -friends. And she knew also to what she owed the sowing of this -hostility—not to her association with her father, whose eccentric -experiments in pharmacy on the whole worked to the benefit, and gave an -extraordinary zest to the lives, of the village community—not to Madam -Tutterville’s texts; for, indeed, that good lady was so subjugated by -her niece’s housekeeperly qualifications that she elected for the nonce -to be blind to the daughter’s abetting of the father’s pursuits. Well -did Ellinor know to whom it was she owed her growing ill-repute. - -Yet the cloud in her sky, no bigger at first than a woman’s hand, was -growing, she felt, and was sufficient already to cast a shadow. And now, -as she sat in such perfect content this summer night between her father -and her cousin, her duty and her love, and felt herself a centre of -peace and harmony, the mere passing remembrance of Margery sufficed to -make her heart contract. - -With the thought of Margery, the recollection of her commission leaped -up in her mind. She laid the letter on her knee, gazing down at its -whiteness a moment or two before she could overcome her extraordinary -repugnance to deliver it. - -Meanwhile Master Simon was flowing happily on again, quite oblivious of -the fact that neither David, whose gaze had once more turned starward, -nor his daughter, absorbed in inner reflection, were paying the least -heed to his discourse. - -“Naturally, poor Cantrip will relapse. And he will hammer wife and nails -once more, and as energetically as ever. But this is immaterial. The -principle, my good young people, you are both intelligent enough to see -at once, is firmly established. In another year the face of Bindon will -have changed. Beldam will scold no more nor maiden mope. You yourself, -David—we should have no more of these heavy sighs, if——” - -Here Ellinor broke in, rising and holding out the letter. - -“Cousin David, I quite forgot—the post brought this for you and I -promised to give it.” - -“A letter,” said Sir David. He took it from her hand and placed it on -the stone parapet. “It is too dark to read it now.” She fancied his -voice was troubled, and immediately there grew upon her an inexplicable -jealous desire that the letter should be opened in her presence, that -she might gain some hint of its contents. - -“I will bring out a light,” she said and flew upon her errand, returning -presently with a little silver lantern from the observatory. She placed -it on the ledge; and from the three glass sides its light threw cross -shaped beams, one uselessly into the dark space, one upon the rough -stone and the letter, one upon her own bending face, pale and eager, -with aureole of disordered hair. - -From the darkness Sir David looked at her face first: and it was as if -the revealing light had shot into the mists of his own heart. - - -The passion of love comes to men from so many different paths that to -each individual it may be said to come in a new guise. To no one does it -come as an invited guest. It may be the chance meeting, the love at -first sight—“she never loved at all who loved not at first sight.” But -Shakespeare knew better than to advance this as an axiom. ’Tis but the -insolent phrase on the lover’s mouth who deems his own passion the only -true one, the model for the world. Some, on the other hand, find with -amazement that long, long already, in some sweet and familiar shape, -love has been with them and they knew it not. They have entertained an -angel unawares; and suddenly, it may be on a trivial occasion, the veil -has been lifted and the heavenly countenance revealed. Others, like the -poor man in the fable, take the treacherous thing to the warmth of their -bosom in all trustfulness and only by the sting of it as it uncoils know -that they have been struck to the heart. Others, again, as unfortunate, -bolt their inhospitable doors upon the wayfarer and perhaps, as they sit -by a lonely hearth, never know that it was love that knocked and went -its way, to pass the desolate house no more. - -To Sir David Cheveral, whose hot and hopeful youth had been betrayed by -life, this sudden apprehension of love in his set manhood came, not in -sweetness nor yet in pain, but in a bewildering upheaval of all things -ordered—as an earthquake flinging up new heights and baring unknown -depths in the staid familiar landscape; as a flash of light—“the light -that never was on sea or land,” after which nothing ever could look the -same again. - -It may, in one sense, be true that the man of pleasure is an easier prey -to his feelings than he who in asceticism spends his days feeding the -spirit at the expense of the flesh; but it is true only because the -former man is weak, not because his passion is strong. By so much as the -deep river that has been driven to course between its own silent banks -is more mighty than the shallow waters that expand themselves in a -hundred noisy channels, by so much is the passion of the recluse a thing -more irresistible, more terrible to reckon with than the bubble -obsession of the self indulgent. - -But he who outrages Nature by excess in other direction, by Nature -herself is punished. The recluse of Bindon was now to grapple with the -avenging strength of his denied manhood. By the leaping of his blood and -the tremor of his being, by the joy of his heart, which his instinctive -sudden resistance turned into as fierce an anguish, by the heat that -rushed to his brow, he knew at last that love was upon him; and he knew -that, were he to resist love in obedience to so many unspoken vows, -victory would be more bitter than death. - -As he looked with a haggard eye at the lovely transfigured face, it was -suddenly lost in the shadows again; only a hand flashed forth into the -light and this hand held a letter, persisting. He passed his fingers -over his eyes and brushed the damp masses of hair from his forehead. - -“Will you not read your letter, cousin David?” asked Ellinor. - -Mechanically he took the paper held out towards him. She lifted the -lantern, that its light might serve him: it trembled a little in her -grasp. And now his glance dropped upon the seal. He stared, started, -turned the letter over and stared again. Then his warm emotion fell from -him. - -“You,” said he, “you to bring me this!” - -She bent forward, the pale oval of her face coming within the radius of -the light again. - -“I have no wish to read this letter,” he went on. - -There was a deep, a contained emotion in his air. All was fuel to -Ellinor’s suddenly risen unreasoning flame of jealousy. That he should -take the letter into his solitude, maybe, that she should not know, -never know—it was not to be borne! - -“Read, read!” she cried, unconsciously imperative by right of her -passion. - -Their gaze met. His was gloomy and startled, then suddenly became -ardent. She saw such a flame leap into his eyes that her own fell before -them; then her bold heart sank. - -“I would not have opened it. But it shall be as you wish,” he answered. -And as David broke the seal, Master Simon’s curious, wrinkled face -peered over his shoulder. - -“Ha,” said the old man, wonderingly, “The Lochore arms.” - -Sir David turned the letter in his hand. - -“From your sister?” asked the simpler, with amazed emphasis. - -“Once I called her so,” answered the astronomer, with an effort that -told of his inner repugnance. - -As one wakes from a fevered dream Ellinor awoke from her brief madness. -Her father’s placid tones, the everyday obvious explanation fell upon -her heart like drops of cold water. But the reaction was scarcely one of -relief. How was it possible that she, Ellinor Marvel, the woman of many -experiences, of the cool brain and the strong heart, should have yielded -to this degrading folly, this futile jealousy? What had she done! She -shivered as a rapid sequence of thought forced its logic upon her -unwilling mind. She had feared that the touch of some woman out of his -past should reach David now, at the very moment when a lover’s heart was -opening to her in his bosom. Behold! she had herself delivered him over -to the one woman of all others she had most reason to dread—the woman -who, out of her own outrage upon him had acquired the most influence -over his life. It seemed to Ellinor as if she herself who had so -laboured to call him to the present and lure him with hopes of a -brighter future, had now handed him back to the slavery of the past. - -The seal cracked under his fingers. - -“Ah, no,” she cried, now springing forward on the new impulse. “No, no, -David, do not read it! Send it back, like the others!” - -He flung on her a single glance. - -“It is too late,” he said, “the seal is broken.” - -“Ah, me,” cried Ellinor. “And we were so happy!” - -She remembered Margery’s sleek face as it had peered at her in the -shadows of the passage: “Will you be good enough to hand this letter -yourself to my master?” - -Margery had known that from her hand he would take it. Margery had a -devil’s instinct of the folly of men and women. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - THE PERFECT ROSE, DROOPING - - Such is the fond illusion of my heart, - Such pictures would I at that time have made; - And seen the soul of truth in every part, - A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed. - - - So once it would have been—’tis so no more: - I have submitted to a new control, - A power is gone which nothing can restore.... - —WORDSWORTH (_Elegiacs_). - - -Sir David sat down upon the parapet, shifted the lantern and began to -read. Ellinor watched him, the tumultuous beating of her heart gradually -sinking down to a dull languor. Master Simon was pacing the platform, -now conning over some chemical formula to himself, now pausing to gaze -upon the stars with a good humoured sneer upon the futility of astronomy -in general and the absurdity of Sir David’s in particular. A bat came -and flapped with noiseless wings round the lantern and was lost again in -the darkness of the surrounding deeps. It seemed to Ellinor a heavy -space of time, and still David sat with a contracted brow, motionless, -staring at the open sheet in his hand. At length he raised his head. His -eyes sought, not herself, but the comrade of his long years of solitude. - -“Cousin Simon!” - -The old man turned in his walk, a fantastic figure in his flapping -skirts as he shuffled forward out of the gloom. Evidently he had -perceived a note of urgency in Sir David’s tone, for he came quickly. - -“Yes, lad!” - -Ellinor had not yet heard that inflection of solicitude in her father’s -voice, but she recognised that it belonged also to that past they all -dreaded; and for the first time she realised something of the ties that -bound these unlikely companions to each other. - -“Cousin Simon,” said David with stiff lips, “she asks me to receive her -here!” - -“Who? Maud?—What! the heathen vixen! Don’t answer her, don’t answer -her!” - -Sir David looked up. There was the stamp of pain upon his features; and -yet, as she told herself, it was not so much pain as the loathing of one -forced to contemplate something of utter abhorrence. Both men, she saw, -were quite oblivious of her presence: the past was now stronger about -them than the present. As Sir David made no answer beyond that dumb -look, Master Simon grew yet more vehement. - -“Pshaw! man, you’re not going to give way now after all these years! The -thing’s irreparable between you. Why, David, what are you thinking of? -How could you bear it? Think for a moment what her presence here would -mean!” - -Then Sir David spoke: - -“It is not,” he said, “a question now, of my wishes. So long as I felt -justified in considering myself alone, I had no hesitation. But to-night -I have to face this: What is my duty?” - -“Eh? How, now!” Master Simon stuttered, and could find no word. “Pooh! -fudge!” He thrust out a testy hand for the letter. - -“Read!” said the master of Bindon, “and then you will understand.” - -Master Simon seized the document and, stooping to the light began to -read the words aloud to himself, according to his custom. Ellinor drew -near and listened. Nothing could have now kept her from yielding to her -intense desire to know. - -“‘Dear Brother,’” read the old gentleman (“Dear Brother!—A dear sister -she’s proved to you!”) “‘It is very likely you may never read these -lines’ (if that isn’t a woman all over! ... where am I?) ‘according to -your heartless custom’—(Ha!” said Master Simon, shooting a swift -ironical look at Sir David from under his ever-hanging eyebrows, “since -when has Lady Lochore become qualified to pronounce upon heartlessness? -Pooh!”) - -Sir David made no reply. His eyes were fixed on some inward visions. The -simpler gave a snort, and resumed his reading: - -“‘Oh, David, let me see my home once more!’ (No, Madam!) ‘Let me come to -you alone with my child. I am ill——’ (Devil doubt her—they’re all ill -when they don’t get their way!) ‘I am ill, dying, and sometimes I think -that it is because you have not forgiven me. In the name of our father, -in the name of our mother,’ (’pon my word, she’s a clever one!) ‘I have -a right to demand this! I must see my home before I die.’” - -Sir David’s compressed lips suddenly worked. He rose and walked across -to the other side of the platform, where against the lambent sky, his -form once more became a mere silhouette. Master Simon proceeded quietly -to finish the letter. - -“There’s a postscript,” he said, and read out: “‘You cannot refuse me -the hospitality of Bindon for a few weeks, remember that I, too, am a -child of the house.’” - -“‘Remember that I, too, am a child of the house!’” - -Ellinor repeated the words drearily to herself. That was the key she -herself had found to unlock the door of Sir David’s hospitality. - -“Upon my soul,” said Master Simon, “I shall never fall foul of the -female intellect again!” - -He looked at Ellinor, and laughed drily. - -“Oh,” she cried, shocked at this inopportune mirth, “she must not come -here—we must prevent it!” - -“Prevent it!” he cried irritably. “Do so, if you can, my girl. By the -Lord Harry!” the forgotten expletive of his jaunty youth leaped oddly -forth over his white beard, “she’s done the trick! Touch David upon his -honour, his family obligations! Ha! she knows it too. A pest on you!” he -went on, his anger rising suddenly, “with your silly female -inquisitiveness. ‘Read it, read it!’ quoth she. Without you, Mrs. -Marvel, he’d have sent the precious missive back—unopened, like all the -others! Ha, that’s an astute one! ‘If you read these lines,’ she writes. -Well she knew that if he once did read them she would win her game!” - -Beneath an impatient stamp one slipper fell off. Thrusting his foot back -into it, he began to hobble in the direction of Sir David, muttering and -growling as he went, not unlike his own Belphegor when his cat-dignity -had been grievously offended. Disjointed scraps of his remarks reached -Ellinor, as she stood, disconsolate and cold at heart, facing the -probable results of her impulse:—“A pretty thing ... disturbing the -peace of the house ... a mass of selfishness ... a pack of silly women!” - -“Well,” said Sir David, turning round as his cousin drew near. - -“Why do you say ‘well’?” snapped the simpler. “You know you’ve made up -your mind already, and need none of my advice.” - -A bitter smile flickered over Sir David’s face. - -“Can you say after reading that letter that there is any other course -open to me?” - -“Stuff and nonsense! A half-dozen excellent courses. You can leave the -letter unanswered. You can write to the lady that these home affections -come a little late in the day. You can write, if you like, and forgive -her by post. You can take coach to London and forgive her there, and.... -But, in Heaven’s name, stem the stream of petticoats from invading our -peace here!” - -“What,” exclaimed the younger man, a blackness as of thunder gathering -on his brow. “Do you, do you, cousin Simon, bid me enter Lochore’s -house!” - -Disconcerted, Master Simon lost his ill humour, though to conceal the -fact he still tried to bluster. - -“Pooh! You’re not of this century. You’re mediæval, quixotic! David, -man, high feelings are not worn nowadays. They have been put by, with -knighthood’s armour. Don’t forgive her then, lad. I am sure I see no -reason why you should.” - -“Forgiveness!” echoed Sir David. - -Ellinor had crept close to them once more. That bitter ring in David’s -voice smote her heart. - -“Forgiveness!” he repeated. “Does he who remembers ever forgive? My -sister is ill and craves to return to her old home. Well, I recognise -her right to its hospitality and also to my courtesy as the dispenser of -it. More I cannot give her.” - -“She’ll not ask for more!” interrupted the unconvinced simpler. “Eh, eh! -It is my fault, David: I might have known how it would be. I brought in -the first petticoat and there the mischief began.” - -“Oh, father!” - -The tears sprang to Ellinor’s eyes. Sir David turned round and seemed to -become again aware of her presence. - -“No, no,” he said, “that is ungrateful.” He took her hand. “She brought -us sunshine,” he said. - -But she missed from his pressure the tremulous touch of passion; she -missed from his eyes that flame she had shrunk from and that now her -heart would always hunger for. Pure kindness, mild sadness—what could -her enkindled soul make now of such gifts as these? With an inarticulate -sound she drew her fingers from his clasp; and, turning, fled downstairs -again and back to her room. - -A taper was burning on her writing table, and in its small meek circle -of light a bowl of monthly roses displayed their innocent pink beauty. -The latticed casement was thrown open. In the square of sky a single -silver star pointed the illimitable distance. From the Herb-Garden below -rose gushes of aromatic airs, as, from some secret cloister by night the -voices of the dedicated rise and fall. Vaguely, in her seething misery, -she seemed to recognise the special essence of the new plant giving to -the cool night the sweetness accumulated during the long, hot hours of -the day. - -She sat down on the narrow bed, folded her hands on her lap and stared -dully forth at the square of sky and the single star. Presently, almost -without her own consciousness, her bosom began to heave with long sighs -and tears to course down her cheeks. Where was now the strength, the -indifference to passing events which she boasted her long battle with -life had given her? Gone, gone at the first touch of passion! Throughout -a sordid marriage she had remained virgin of heart, she had kept the -virgin’s peace—and now? - -Alternations of pride and despair broke over her like waves, salt and -bitter as her own tears. How happy they had been! And the unknown fiend, -jealousy, had urged her to break the still current of that sweet, -restful half-unwitting happiness of their life all three together—a -current flowing, she had told herself with conviction, to a full tide of -unimaginable bliss. - -My God, how he had looked at her only that night! And it was in that -pearl of moments that she had thrust his past back upon him and bade -him, with her precious, new-found power, read the letter that should -never have been opened. The perfect rose had been within her grasp. It -was her own hand that had flung it in the dust. - - -Master Simon, still shaking his head and muttering disapproval, went -slowly back to his laboratory. - -“The cunning jade!” he was grumbling, “she’s no more ill than I am. Or -if she be, a pretty business we shall have with her—a fine lady with -vapours, and megrims, and tantrums! I’ve not forgotten the ways of -them...!” - -But here an illuminating idea flashed upon his brain. He stopped at the -corner of a passage, cocking his head like an old grey jackdaw. “Eh, but -a fine lady in her tantrums.... What a test for the virtues of my -paragon herb!” - -All very well to rejoice at its efficacy upon the homely rustic. Master -Simon had experimented upon the homely rustic too many years not to have -developed a fine contempt for his vile corpus; he was too true an -enthusiast not to long for something like a proper nervous system upon -which to work. - -An air of returning good humour now settled upon his face; and by the -time he was seated at his table, he had begun to wish his unwelcome -cousin really a prey to the most advanced melancholia, and was conning -over what phrases he could remember of her letter—delighted when they -seemed to point to that conclusion. - -“And even if she be not pining away for sorrow, as she would like poor -David to believe, if I remember the lady aright, she has as disordered a -temper of her own as John Cantrip himself.” - - - - - CHAPTER VII - NODS AND WREATHÉD SMILES - - ... Half light, half shade, - She stood, a sight to make an old man young. - —TENNYSON (_Gardener’s Daughter_). - - -Within Bindon house the next ten days were as uneventful as those that -had preceded this night of emotional trouble; days similar in routine, -in outward tranquillity. But how unlike in colour, in atmosphere! It was -as if thunder-clouds had chased all the summer peace; as if brooding -skies had taken the place of radiance and laughing blue; as if close -mists enshrouded the earth, robbing the woods of living light and shade, -dulling the tints of flower and turf, contracting the horizon. The -former days had been days of many-hued hope; these now were days of drab -suspense. And ever and anon, in the listening stillness, there came upon -Ellinor’s inner senses, as from behind hiding hills, the far-off mutter -of a gathering storm. - -But in the outer world the summer still kept its glory, the sky its -undisturbed azure, the flowers their jewel hues. Never had Bindon looked -fairer, more nobly itself. Preparations went on apace for the reception -of the visitor. Ellinor personally saw to every detail—she piqued -herself that no one could reproach her with not carrying out to the -finest line of conscientiousness her duties as housekeeper of Sir -David’s home. A little paler, a little colder, more silently and with -just a note of sternness, she moved about her tasks. Nothing was made -easy for her: the household, scenting a possible change, became more -openly inclined to mutiny. - -Master Simon, also, seemed to become more exacting in his demands upon -her time. Sir David, on the other hand, had withdrawn almost as -completely as had been his wont before her arrival. And her woman’s -pride and tact alike kept her from those raids upon his tower privacy, -which but a little time ago had caused him so much pleasure, it seemed, -and herself such infinite sweetness. - -It was hard, too, to have to meet Margery’s paroxysm of astonishment; -Margery’s ostentatious outburst of joy at the thought of “her dear young -lady coming back to her rightful place at last”; Margery’s insolence of -triumph as regarded “the interloper,” astutely conveyed in such humble -garments that to notice it would have been but a crowning humiliation. - -“Eh, to think, ma’am,” the ex-housekeeper would say in her innocent -voice, “that it should have been that very letter I handed you myself, -never dreaming, that’s brought this blessed reconciliation about! It do -seem like the finger of the Lord. Ah, ma’am, but you must be glad in -your heart, to feel yourself the instrument of peace. Who knows, if the -master would have taken it from any hand but yours, he that used to -return them as regular and just as fast as they came!” - -And then came parson and Madam Tutterville: he, as beseemed the -God-chosen and state-appointed minister of the gospel of charity, most -duly (and unconvincingly) approving the proposed reconciliation; and, as -man of the world, most humanly and convincingly dubious of its results: -she, openly bewailing, with all her store of texts and feminine logic, -so inconvenient a hitch in her secret plans. - -Ellinor had to receive them both. For the lower door of Sir David’s -turret stairs was bolted, and Master Simon on his side had stoutly -refused any manner of interview with anyone so sturdily healthy as the -rector, or so disdainful of his remedies as the rector’s lady. - -“Under every law,” said Doctor Tutterville, “the Jewish, the Pagan, the -Philosophic and the Christian in its many variations, it has been -enjoined upon our human weakness that it is advisable to forgive: _Æquum -est peccatis veniam poscentem reddere rursus_. - -So the rector, acknowledging his share of frailty—a share so pleasant to -himself and so inoffensive to others that it was no wonder he showed -little desire to repudiate it. - -“One may forgive,” said Madam Tutterville sententiously. “Heaven knows I -should be the last to deny that!”—this with the air of making a valuable -concession to the decrees of Providence—“But there is another law: that -chastisement shall follow misdoing. Was not David punished through -Jonathan’s hair?” - -The parson’s waistcoat rippled over his gentle laughter. He was seated -in one of the deep-winged library armchairs, and while he spoke his eyes -roamed with ever renewed satisfaction over the appointments of the -room—the silver bowl of roses, fresh filled, the artistic neatness of -writing table, the high polish of oak and gilt leather. His fine -appreciation for the fitness of things was tickled; his glance finally -rested with complacency upon the figure of the young woman herself—the -capable young woman who had wrought so many pleasing changes. And as he -looked he smiled: Ellinor was the culminating point of agreeable -contemplation amid exceedingly agreeable surroundings. - -She toned in so well with the scene! The sober golds and russets of the -walls repeated their highest note in her burnished hair. Her outline, as -she sat, exactly corresponded to the rector’s theory of what the female -line of beauty should be. He liked the close, fine texture of her skin -and the hues upon her cheeks, which fluctuated from geranium-white to -glorious rose. The proud curl of her lip appealed to him; so did the -sudden dimple. He liked the direct gaze of her honest blue eyes, and he -was not unaware of the thickness and length of eyelashes that seemed to -have little points of fire on their tips. - -That scholarly gentleman’s admiration was of so lofty, so philosophic a -nature, that even his Sophia could have found no fault with it. But as -he yielded himself to it, the conviction was ever more strongly borne in -upon him that his wife, in her impetuosity, had reached to a juster -conclusion concerning Ellinor than he in his own ripe wisdom. He had -treated her repeated remark that “Here was just the wife for David, here -the proper mistress of Bindon,” with his usual good-natured contempt. -But to-day he saw Ellinor with new eyes. Yes, this was a gem worthy of -Bindon setting. This would be a noble wife for any man; an ideal one for -David—for fastidious David, to whom the old epicure felt especially -drawn, although he recognised that one may make of fastidiousness a fine -art and not push the cult to the point of David’s eccentricity. - -Here, then, was a woman fair enough to bring the Star-Dreamer, the -soaring idealist back to earth; wholesomely human enough to keep him -there in sanity and content, once Love had clipped his wing. - - -Meanwhile Madam Tutterville was bringing a long dissertation to an end. -In it, by the help of the scriptures, old and new, she had proved that -while it was indubitably David’s duty to forgive his sister up to a -certain point, it was likewise indubitably incumbent upon him to -continue to keep her in wholesome remembrance of her offences by -excluding her from Bindon, until——. Here the lady became exceedingly -mysterious and addressed herself with nods and becks solely to her -husband, ignoring Ellinor’s presence, much after the fashion of nurses -over the heads of their charges. - -“At least until that happy consummation of affairs, Horatio, which you -and I have so much discussed.” - -“My dear Ellinor,” she pursued, turning blandly to her niece, who with a -suddenly scarlet face was trying in vain to look as if she had not -understood, “be guided by my advice, by my advice. It is extremely -desirable, I might say imperative, that things should remain at present -at Bindon House in what your good uncle would term the state of quo, a -Greek word, my dear, signifying that it is best to leave well alone.” - -“What is it you would have me do?” - -“Well, my dear, seeing that everything has been going on so nicely these -months, and that Bindon has become no longer like a family lunatic -asylum, but quite a respectable, clean house, and that Nutmeg thing -reduced to proper order, and David almost human, coming down to meals -just as if he were in his right mind (though I’ve given up your father, -my dear), I’m afraid that in his case that clear cohesion of intellect -which is so necessary (is it not, Horatio?) is irrevocably affected.” - -She tapped her forehead and shook her head, murmured something about the -instance of John Cantrip, hesitated for a moment, as if on the point of -gliding off in another direction, but saved herself with a heroic jerk. - -“I would be glad,” she went on, “to have had speech of David myself; but -since you tell me that is impossible, Ellinor, I must be content with -laying my injunctions upon you. And indeed (is it not so, Horatio?) you -are perhaps the most fitted for this delicate task. The voice of the -turtle, my dear, is more likely to reach his heart than the dictates of -wisdom.” - -“The voice of the turtle, aunt?” - -“Yes, my dear,” said Madam Tutterville, putting her head on one side -with a languishing air. “In the beautiful imagery of Solomon the -turtle—the bird, my love, not the shell-fish—is always brought forward -as the emblem of female devotion.” - -“I don’t see how that can refer to me!” - -Ellinor sprang to her feet as she spoke: the rector’s gurgle of -amusement was the last straw to her patience. Angry humiliation dyed her -face, her blue eyes shot flames. - -“Oh, don’t explain, I can’t bear it! But please, dear aunt, please, -don’t call me a turtle again! It’s the last thing I am, or want to be!” - -She broke, in spite of herself, into laughter; laughter with a lump in -her throat. - -Parson Tutterville had been highly entertained. Mrs. Marvel was quite as -agreeable to watch in wrath as in repose. But he was a man of feeling. - -“I think, Sophia,” he said, in the tone she never resisted, “we will -pursue the subject no further. However we may regret any interruption to -the present satisfactory state of affairs, regret for David a visit that -is likely to prove distressing, we cannot but agree with Mrs. Marvel -that it is not her place to interfere.” - -He rose as he spoke. The morning visit was at an end. - -Even an encounter with Mrs. Nutmeg could not have left Ellinor in a more -irritated condition. - -“What do they all think of me?” she asked herself, and pride forbade her -to shed a single one of the hot tears that rose to her lids. - -“What have I done?” was the question that next forced itself upon a mind -that was singularly truthful. She had placed herself indeed in a -position open to comment and misinterpretation. And then and there she -had given herself up so wholly, so unrestrainedly to love that she had -actually come to measure the strength of her attraction for her -unconsenting lover against the strength, or the weakness, of his will. - -As she faced the thought, a sense of shame overcame her. Had she not -known how helpless both her father and David would be without her, -especially at this juncture, she would have been sorely tempted to be -gone as she had come. It was not in her nature to contemplate anything -ungenerous, even for the gratification of that strongest of passions in -woman, self respect. But in her present mood, even the rector’s -well-meant, kindly words recurred to sting—“It was not her place to -interfere!” Well, she would keep her place, as David’s servant, and not -presume again beyond her duty! - -Yes, and she would take that other place, too—the woman’s place, the -queen’s place, not to be won without being wooed. If David wanted her -now he must seek her! - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - A GREY GOWN AND RED ROSES - - And then we met in wrath and wrong. - We met, but only meant to part. - Full cold my greeting was and dry; - She faintly smiled ... - —TENNYSON (_The Letters_). - - -Fain would Ellinor have avoided being present at the reception of the -guests. But Sir David willed it otherwise. - -Bearing an armful of roses, she met him on the morning of the arrival at -the foot of the great stairs. She had scarcely seen him since the night -on the tower; and hurt to her heart’s core, as only a woman can be, by -his seeming avoidance of her, she faced him with a front as cold, a -manner as courteously reserved as his own. For it was a different David -from any she had hitherto known that now emerged from many days’ -seclusion and soul struggle. - -“What, ’tis you, cousin Ellinor!” He took her hand and ceremoniously -kissed it. - -There was a tone of artificiality about his words. This perfunctory -touch of his lips on her hand, this formal bow, all these things -belonged to that past of the lord of Bindon, when society knew and -petted him; and in that past Ellinor felt with fresh acuteness that she -had no part. She drew her hand away. - -“I hope,” she said, “the arrangements may be to your liking.” - -He glanced at her as if puzzled; then his eye travelled over her -figure—an exquisite model of neatness she always was, but in this, her -working gown, no more fashionably clad than dairy Moll or Sue. He took -up a fold of her sleeve between his first and second finger. - -“My sister used to be a very fine lady,” said he gently. - -“And I am none,” cried Ellinor, flushing. Then, gathering the roses into -her arms and moving away: “But it matters the less,” she added over her -shoulder, “as Lady Lochore and I are not likely to come much across each -other.” - -But David, this new David, a painful enigma to her, touched her -detainingly on the shoulder; and in his touch was authority. - -“On the contrary,” said he, “I beg you will see much of my sister. -Dispenser as you are of my hospitality, you must needs see much of her.” - -The flush had faded. Proud and pale she looked at him long, but his face -was as a sealed page to her. What was this turn of fortune’s wheel -bringing, glory or abasement? - -“I must keep my place,” insisted Ellinor. - -“That will be your place,” he answered. “Pray be ready to receive my -guests with me.” - -She raised her eyes, startled, indeterminate. - -“I and my frocks are poor company for great ladies,” she said with a -scornful dimple. - -At that he smiled as one smiles upon a child. - -“You have a certain grey gown,” he said. And, after a little pause, he -added: “Some of those roses.” - -The fragrance of them had come over to him as they moved with her -breath. Once more she hesitated for a second, then dropping her eyelids, -she said, with mock humility: - -“It shall be as you order,” and went up the stairs with head erect and -steady step, feeling that his gaze was following her. - -She could hardly have explained to herself why this attitude of David’s, -this sudden proof of his strength in forcing himself to become like -other people, should cause her so much resentment and so much pain. But -she felt that this man of the world was infinitely far removed from the -absent star-gazer, from the neglected recluse who had so needed her -ministrations. The _rôles_ seemed reversed. It was no longer she who was -the protector, the power directing events, no longer she who ruled by -right of wisdom and sweet common sense. David had become independent of -her. Hardest thing of all, to be no longer indispensable to him! And yet -even in this unexpected cup of bitterness there was a redeeming sweet: -he had remembered her grey gown, he had noticed that the roses became -her. - - -My Lady Lochore arrived towards that falling hour of the day when the -shadows are growing long and soft, when the slanting light is amber: it -might be called the coloured hour, for the sun begins to veil its -splendour, so that eyes, undazzled, may rejoice. The swallows were -dipping across the sward of golden-emerald and Bindon stood proudly -golden-grey in the light, silver-grey in the shadows and against the -blue. - -This daughter of the house came back to it with a fine clatter of horses -and a blasting of post horns; followed by a retinue of valets and maids; -acclaimed along the village street by shouting children, while aged -gaffers and gammers bobbed on their cottage door-steps and showered -interested blessings. (Margery had prepared that ground in good time.) -She was welcomed in stately fashion by the chief servants and the master -of the house himself on the threshold of her old home. - -Ellinor, half hidden behind the statue of Diana and its spreading green, -watched the scene, waiting for her own moment. - -How different had been, she thought to herself, the return of poor -Ellinor Marvel, that other daughter of Bindon, upon the cold September -night, solitary, travel-worn, penniless, knocking in vain at the door -her forefathers had built, creeping round back ways like a beggar, -with the bats circling by her in the darkness and the watchdog -growling at her from his kennel; unbidden, entering her old house, -unwelcomed.—Unwelcomed? Was cousin Maud welcomed? - -In her rustling thin silk spencer and her fluttering muslin, with -hectic, handsome face, looking anxiously out from under the wide -befeathered bonnet, Lady Lochore advanced her thin sandalled foot on the -step of the coach and rested her hand upon David’s extended arm. - -This was their meeting after years of estrangement! For a second she -wavered, made a movement as if she would fling herself into her -brother’s arms; the ribbons on her bosom fluttered—was it with a heaving -sob? She glanced up at David’s severe countenance and suddenly stiffened -herself. He bent and brushed the gloved wrist with his lips. - -“Sister, Bindon greets you!” - -She tossed her head, and her plumes shook. It seemed to the watching -Ellinor as if she would have twitched her hand from his fingers; but he -led her on. And the two last Cheverals walked up the steps together. - -The servants, Margery at their head, breathed respectful whispers of -welcome. The lady nodded haughtily and vaguely. She stood in the hall -and David dropped her hand. His eye was cold, there was a faint sneer on -his lips. - -Welcomed? Ah, no! Ellinor would not have exchanged her dark night of -home-coming for her cousin’s golden ceremonious day. Ellinor had cared -little at heart—absorbed in her young freedom and her new confidence in -life—how she should be received, but the lord of Bindon had looked into -her eyes and bade her “welcome,” and laid his lips, lips that could not -lie, upon hers. - - -When Ellinor emerged from behind her foliage screen, Lady Lochore was -struggling in Madam Tutterville’s stout embrace. Sir David had summoned -all his family upon the scene; and—yes, actually it was her father (in a -wonderful blue anachronism of a coat) who was talking so eagerly to the -smiling rector that he seemed quite oblivious of the purpose of his own -presence. - -Aunt Sophia had prepared a fitting address for one whom she had been -long wont to regard (however regretfully) as Jezebel. But, as usual, her -sternness had melted under the impulse of her warm heart. - -“My goodness, child,” she exclaimed, “you look ill indeed!” and folded -her arms about her wasted figure. - -Lady Lochore disengaged herself unceremoniously. - -“Is that you, Aunt Sophy? Lord, you have grown stout! Ill? Of course I -am! And your jolting roads are not likely to mend matters. Has the -second coach come up? Where’s Josephine? Where is my boy?” - -“The second coach is just rounding the avenue corner,” said Margery at -her elbow, “please my lady.” - -Lady Lochore wheeled round. Her movements were all restless and -impatient, like those of a creature fevered. “Goodness, woman, how you -made me jump!” - -She put up her long handled eyeglasses and fixed the simpler and the -parson with a momentary interest. Her white teeth shone in a smile soon -gone. Hardly would she answer the rector’s elegantly turned compliment; -but she vouchsafed a more flattering attention to Master Simon, as he -bowed with an antiquated, severe courtesy that was quite his own. - -“That’s cousin Simon! I remember him and all his little watch-glasses, -tubes, and things. I hope you’ve got the little watch-glasses still, -cousin. I used to like you. You made Bindon rather interesting, I -remember.” She yawned, as if to the recollection of past dulness; an -open unchecked yawn, such as your fine lady alone can comfortably -achieve in company. “I hope you’ll make some little nostrum for me, -something nice smelling to dab on a freckle, or kill a wrinkle with—I -think I have a wrinkle coming under my left eye.” - -She suddenly arrested the dropping impudent langour of her speech, -clenched a fine gloved hand over the stick of her eyeglass and stared -fixedly: Ellinor had come out and stood in a shaft of light, as she had -an unconscious trick of doing, seeking the warmth instinctively as any -frank young animal might. - -A radiant thing she looked, grey-clad, with the gorgeous crimson of a -summer rose at her belt, her crisp rebellious hair on fire, her chin and -neck gold outlined. - -“Who is this?” said Lady Lochore, in a new voice, as sharp as a needle. -It was David who answered: - -“Our cousin, Ellinor Marvel!” - -“How do you do,” said Ellinor composedly. - -There was no attempt on either side at even a hand touch. Lady Lochore -nodded. - -“Ellinor is my good providence here,” continued Sir David. “I should not -have ventured to receive you in this bachelor establishment had it not -been for her presence. But now everything, I am confident, will be as it -should be during the month that you honour this house with your -presence.” He enunciated each word with determined deliberateness; it -was like the pronouncing of a sentence. Once again Ellinor felt the -implacable passion of the man under the set, controlled manner. “If you -should desire anything, pray address yourself to cousin Ellinor,” he -added. - -Lady Lochore put down her eyeglasses and looked for a second with -natural angry eyes from one to the other. She bit her lip and it seemed -as if beneath the rouge her cheek turned ghastly. - -She had come prepared to fight and prepared to hate. Yet this sudden -rage springing up within her was not due to reason but to instinct. It -was the ferocious antipathy of the fading woman for the fresh beauty; of -the woman who has failed in love for her who seems born to command love -as she goes. Lady Lochore could not look upon her cousin’s fairness -without that inner revulsion of anger which not only works havoc with -the mind but distils acrid poison into the blood. - -The clatter of the second coach was heard without. - -“Give me the child, give me the boy!” cried Lady Lochore. She made a -rush, with fluttering silks, to the doors. “No one shall show my boy to -his uncle but myself!” - -“Mamma’s own!” - -Could that be Lady Lochore’s voice? She came staggering back upon them, -clasping a lusty, kicking child in her frail arms; the whole countenance -of the woman was changed—“A heartless, callow creature,” so Madam -Tutterville had called her, and so Ellinor had learned to regard her. -But even the legendary monster has its vulnerable spot: there could be -no mistaking Maud Lochore’s passionate maternity. Ellinor drew a step -nearer, attracted in spite of herself; she could almost have wished to -see David’s face unbend. But its previous severity only gave way to -something like mockery, as he looked at mother and child. - -“David!” cried his sister, “David, this is my boy!” There was a wild -appeal in her voice, almost breaking upon tears. “Edmund I have called -him, after our father, David. Edmund, my treasure, speak to your uncle!” - -“I will, if you put me down!” The three-year-old boy struggled to free -himself from his mother’s embrace. His velvet cap fell off and a cherub -face under deep red curls was revealed. Ellinor remembered how the -Master of Lochore’s red head had flashed through these very halls in the -old days, and she hardly dared glance at David. - -“I’ll stand down on my own legs, please!” said the child. “And now I’ll -speak.” - -He shook out his ruffled petticoat and looked up, and his great, velvet -brown eyes wandered from face to face. The genial ruddiness, the -benevolent smile of the good, childless parson appealed to him first. - -“Good morning, mine uncle, I hope you’ll learn to love——” - -Lady Lochore plunged upon him. - -“No, Edmund, no! not there! See boy, this is your uncle.” - -She clutched at David’s sleeve, while Madam Tutterville’s tears of easy -emotion ran into her melting smile; and quite unscriptural exclamations, -such as “duck,” and “little pet,” and “lambkin” fell from her delighted -lips. - -“Speak to uncle David, darling! David, won’t you say a word to my -child?” - -Ellinor could almost have echoed the wail—it cut into her womanly heart -to see David repel the little one. But he bent and looked down -searchingly into the little face. At that moment the child, again -struggling against the maternal control, drew his baby brows together -and set his baby features into a scowl of temper. Sir David looked; and -in the defiant eyes, in the little set mouth, in the very frown, saw the -image of his traitor friend. His own brows gathered into as black a knot -as if he had been confronting Lochore himself. He drew himself up and -folded his arms: - -“Cease prompting the child, Maud,” said he, “let his lips speak truth, -at least as long as they may!” - -He turned and left them. The little Master of Lochore was ill-accustomed -to meet an angry eye or to hear a disapproving voice. And, as his mother -rose to her feet, shooting fury through her wet eyes upon the -discomfited circle, he, too, glanced round for comfort and rapidly -making his choice, flung himself upon Ellinor and hid his face in her -skirts, screaming. - -The clinging hands, the hot, tear-stained cheeks, the baby lips, opened -yet responsive to her kisses—Ellinor never forgot the touch of these -things. Almost it was, when Lady Lochore wrenched him from her arms, as -if something of her own had been plucked from her. - -“I want the pretty lady, I will have the pretty lady!” roared the heir, -as Josephine, the nurse, and Margery carried him between them to his -nursery. - - -As Lady Lochore, following in their wake, swept by Ellinor, she gathered -her draperies and shot a single phrase from between her teeth. It was so -low, however, that Ellinor only caught one word. The blood leaped to her -brow as under the flick of a lash. But even alone, in her bed at night, -she would not, could not admit to herself that it had had the hideous -significance which the look, the gesture seemed to throw into it. - - -“So it is war!” said Lady Lochore, standing in the middle of her -gorgeous room, the flame of anger devouring her tears. “Well, so much -the better!” - -She stood before the mirror, her chin sunk on her breast, biting at the -laces of her kerchief, while her great eyes stared unseeingly at the -reflection of her own sullen, wasted beauty. War! On the whole it suited -her better than a hypocritical peace. Hers was not a nature that could -long wear a mask. She was one who could better fight for what she loved -than fawn. And now she had got her foot into her old home at last; aye, -and her boy’s! After so many years of struggle and failure it was a -triumph that must augur well for the future. - -Never had she realised so fully how prosperous, how noble an estate was -Bindon, how altogether desirable; how different from the barren acres of -Roy and the savage discomfort of its neglected castle. To this plenty, -this refinement, this richness, these traditions, her splendid boy was -heir by right of blood. And she would have him remain so! She laughed -aloud, suddenly, scornfully, and tossed her head with a ghost of the -wild grace that had made Maud Cheveral the toast of a London season; a -grace that still drew in the wake of the capricious, fading Lady Lochore -a score of idle admirers. It would be odd indeed if the sly country -widow, pink and white as she was, should be a match for her, now that -they could meet on level ground. - -There came a knock at the door. - -“If you please, my lady,” said Margery, “humbly asking your pardon for -intruding, I hope your ladyship remembers me. I’m one of the old -servants, and glad to welcome your ladyship back again to your rightful -place. And the little heir, as we call him, God bless him for a -beauty——” - -“Come in, woman,” cried Lady Lochore, “come in and shut the door!” - - - - - CHAPTER IX - A RIDER INTO BATH - - It is not quiet, is not ease, - But something deeper far than these: - The separation that is here is of the grave. - —WORDSWORTH (_Elegiac Poems_). - - -If a woman, being in love, gain thereby a certain intuition into the -character of the man she loves, the thousand contradictory emotions of -that unrestful state, its despairs, angers, jealousies, its unreasonable -susceptibilities, all combine to obscure her judgment; so that, at the -same time she knows him better than anyone else can, and yet can be -harsher, more unjust to him than the rest of the world. - -Thus Ellinor understood exactly what was now causing the metamorphosis -of David. She alone guessed the struggle of his week’s seclusion, from -which he had emerged armoured, as it were, to face the slings and arrows -of the new turn of fate. She alone knew the inward shrinking, the sick -distaste which were covered by this polished breast-plate of sarcastic -reserve; knew that this deadly courtesy was the only weapon to his hand, -and that he would not lay it aside for a second in the enemy’s presence. -At that moment when she had seen him read in the child’s face the image -of its father, she had read in his own eyes the irrevocable truth of -those slow words of his under the night sky: “He who remembers never -forgives.” - -She felt, too, that his very regard for her made it incumbent on him to -treat her now as ceremoniously as his other guest; that to have openly -singled her out for notice, or privately to have indulged himself with -her company, would have been alike tactless and ungenerous. But in spite -of all reason could tell her, she felt hurt, she was chilled, she gave -him back coldness for coldness and mocking formality for his grave -courtesy. - -Now and again his eyes would rest upon her, questioning. But shut out -from his night watch on the tower; shut out by day from their former -intimacy by his every speech and gesture, Ellinor’s feminine sensibility -always overcame her clear head and her generous heart. - -A few days dragged by thus; slow, stiff, intolerable days. At last Lady -Lochore threw off the mask insolently. Towards the end of their late -breakfast, after an hour of yawns and sighs and pettish tossing of the -good things upon her plate, she suddenly requested of her brother, in -tones that made of the request a command, permission to invite some -guests. - -“Bindon shrieks for company,” said she, “and, thanks as I understand, to -Mrs. Marvel, it is fairly fit to receive company. And, I know you like -frankness, brother, I will admit I am used to some company.” - -She flung a fleering look from Ellinor’s erect head to the alchemist’s -bent, rounded crown. (Master Simon was deeply interested in Lady -Lochore’s case, and as he entertained certain experimental schemes in -his own mind, sought her company at every opportunity: hence his -unwonted appearance at meals.) Sir David slowly turned an eye of ironic -inquiry upon his sister; but his lips were too polite to criticise. - -“Anything that can add to your entertainment during your short stay -here,” said he, “must, of course, commend itself to us.” - -Had Ellinor been less straitened by her own passionate pride, she might -have stooped to pick up solace from that little plural word. - -“Then I shall write,” said Lady Lochore, with her usual toss of the -head. “If you’ll kindly send a rider into Bath—there are a few of my -friends yet there, I learn by my morning’s _courier_—I’ll have the -letters ready for the mail.” - -Sir David went on slowly peeling a peach. For a while he seemed absorbed -in the delicate task. Then, laying down the fruit, but without looking -up from his plate, he said: - -“I presume, before you write those letters that you intend to submit the -names of my prospective guests to me.” - -Lady Lochore flushed. She knew to what he referred; knew that there was -one guest to which the doors of Bindon would never be opened in its -present master’s lifetime. She was angry with herself for having made -the blunder of allowing him to imagine for a moment that she was -plotting so absurd a move. She hesitated, and then, with characteristic -cynicism: - -“What!” she cried, “do you think I want that devil here? No more than -you do yourself.” - -“Hey, hey!” cried Master Simon, startled from some abstruse cogitation. - -Still Sir David looked rigidly down at his plate. - -“God knows,” pursued the reckless woman, “it’s little enough I see of -him now—but that is already too much!” - -She paused, and yet there was no answer. Then with her scornful laugh: - -“There’s old Mrs. Geary, the Honourable Caroline—you remember her, -David?—the Dishonourable Caroline, as they call her in the Assembly -Rooms; whether she cheats or not is no business of mine, but she is the -only woman I care to play piquet with. There’s Colonel Harcourt and Luke -Herrick—they make up the four, and I don’t think you’ll find anything -wrong with their pedigree. Herrick’s too young for you to know. -Priscilla Geary is in love with him—he’s a _parti_, as rich as he is -handsome—and I’ll want a bait to lure the old lady from the green cloth -at Bath. And if we have Herrick we must have Tom Villars too, else -Herrick will have no one to jest at. And besides, the creature is useful -to me.” - -Sir David interrupted her with a sudden movement. He pushed his chair -away from the table and, looking up from the untouched fruit, fixed for -a second a glance of such weary contempt upon his sister that even her -bold eyes fell. - -“A Jew, a libertine, an admitted cheat—oh yes, I remember Mr. Villars, -Colonel Harcourt, and Mrs. Geary. The younger generation, of whose -acquaintance I have not yet the honour, will no doubt prove worthy of -such elders!” He paused again, to continue in his uninflected voice: -“Since these are the sort of guests you most wish to see at Bindon, you -have my permission to invite them.” - -He rose as he spoke, giving the signal for the breaking up of the -uncomfortable circle. As Lady Lochore whisked past Master Simon, in his -antiquated blue garment, she paused. She had a sort of liking for the -old man, odd enough when contrasted with the deadly enmity she had vowed -his daughter. - -“Could you not discover,” she whispered, “a leaf or a berry that might -take some effect upon the disease of priggishness? That new plant of -yours. Did you not say ... didn’t you call it the Star-of-Comfort? I am -sure it would be a comfort.” - -The effect of the whisper told upon a chest that occasionally found the -ordinary drawing of breath too much for it. She broke off to cough, and -coughed till her frail form seemed like to be riven. Master Simon -watched her gravely. - -“I could give you something for that cough, child,” said he. Then his -withered cheek began to kindle, “Something to soothe the cough first, -and then, perhaps, I—I—that restless temperament of yours, that -dissatisfied and capricious disposition—the Star-of-Comfort, indeed——” - -She shook her hand in his face. - -“Not I,” she gasped. “No more quackery for me! Lord, I’m as tough as a -worm, Simon.” She laughed and coughed and struggled for breath. “I -believe if you were to cut me up into little bits, I’d wriggle together -again, but I’ll not answer for poison.” - -She flung him a malicious look and flaunted forth, ostentatiously -oblivious of Ellinor—her habitual practise when not openly insulting. - - -When Sir David and Master Simon were alone together the old man went -solemnly up to his cousin, and laid his hand upon his breast. - -“David,” said he, “that sister of yours won’t live another year unless -she gives up the adverse climate of Scotland, the impure air of the town -and the racket of fashionable life.” - -“Tell her so, then,” said Sir David. - -Master Simon drew back and blinkingly surveyed the set face with an -expression of doubt, surprise and unwilling respect. - -“The woman’s ill,” he ventured at last. - -“Shall I bid her rest? Shall I cancel those letters of invitation?” -asked Sir David ironically. - - - - - THE STAR DREAMER - - - - - BOOK III - - - Come down ... from yonder mountain heights. - And come, for Love is of the valley, come, - For Love is of the valley, come thou down! - TENNYSON (_The Princess._) - - - - - CHAPTER I - THE LITTLE MASTER OF BINDON - - She played about with slight and sprightly talk, - And vivid smiles, and faintly venom’d points - Of slander, glancing here and grazing there. - —TENNYSON (_Merlin and Vivien_). - - -In the terraced gardens, under the spreading shadows of the cedar trees, -was gathered a motley group. Beyond that patch of shade the sun blazed -down on stone steps and balusters, on green turf and scarlet geranium, -with a fervour the eye could scarce endure. The air was full of hot -scents. On a day such as this, Bindon of old was wont to seem asleep: -lulled by the rhythmic, rocking dream-note of the wild pigeons, deep in -its encircling woods. On a day such as this, the wise rooks would put -off conclave and it would be but some irrepressible younger member of -the ancient community that would take a wild flight away from leafy -shade and, wheeling over the tree tops, drop between the blue and the -green a drowsy caw. But things were changed this July at Bindon: these -very rooks held noisy counsel in mid air and discussed what flock of -strange bright birds it was that had alighted in their quiet corner of -the world, to startle its greens and greys, to out-flaunt its -flower-beds with outlandish parrot plumage, to break the humming summer -silence with unknown clamours. - - -“The Deyvil take my soul!” said Thomas Villars reflectively. - -He was sitting on the grass at Lady Lochore’s feet; his long legs in the -last cut of trousers strapped over positively the latest boots. The -slimness of his waist, the juvenility of his manner, the black curls -that hung luxuriantly over his clean-shaven face, all this conspired to -give Mr. Villars quite an illusive air of youth, even from a very short -distance. Only a close examination revealed the lines on the rouged -cheek and the wrinkled fall of chin that the highest and finest stock -could not quite conceal. The latest pedigree gave the year of his birth -as some lost fifty years ago—it also described the lady who had presided -at that event as belonging to the illustrious Castillian house of Lara. -But ill-natured friends persisted, averred that this lady had belonged -to no more foreign regions than the Minories, and thus they accounted -for Tom’s black ringlets, for his bold arch of nose, for his slightly -thick consonants and his unconquerable fondness for personal jewellery. - -Mr. Villars was, however, almost universally accepted by society: his -knowledge of the share market was only second to his astounding -acquaintance with everyone’s exact financial situation. - -“Deyvil take my soul!” he insisted. Tom Villars was fond of an oath as -of a fine genteel habit. - -“I defy even the Devil to do that,” said Lady Lochore, stopping the -languidly pettish flap of her fan to shoot an angry look at him over its -edge. - -“Why so, fairest Queen of the Roses?” - -“Tom Villars sold his soul to the Devil long ago,” put in Colonel -Harcourt. “It is no longer an asset.” - -Frankly fifty, with a handsome ruddy face under a sweep of grey hair -that almost gave the impression of the forgotten becomingness of the -powdered peruke, Colonel Harcourt, of the Grenadiers, erect, -broad-chested, pleasantly swaggering, good humoured and yet haughty, -proclaimed the guardsman to the first glance, even in his easy country -garb. - -“Sold his soul to the Devil?” echoed Luke Herrick, lifting his handsome -young face from the daisies he was piling in pretty Priscilla Geary’s -pink silk lap. “Sold his soul, did he? Uncommon bargain for Beelzebub -and Co.! I thought the firm did better business.” - -“You are quite wrong,” said Lady Lochore, looking down with disfavour -upon the countenance of her victim, who feigned excessive enjoyment of -the ambient wit and humour. “The Devil cannot take Tom Villars’ soul, -nor could Tom Villars sell it to the Devil, for the very good reason -that Tom Villars never had a soul to be disposed of.” - -A shout of laughter went round the glowing idle group. - -“Cruel, cruel, lady mine!” murmured the oriental Villars, striving to -throw a fire of pleading devotion into his close-set shallow eyes as he -looked up at Lady Lochore and at the same time to turn a dignified deaf -ear upon his less important tormentors. “In how have I offended that you -thus make a pincushion of my heart?” - -Mr. Villars knew right well that with Lady Lochore, as with the other -fair of his acquaintance, his favour fell with the barometer of certain -little negotiations. But it was a characteristic—no doubt maternally -inherited—that soft as he was upon the pleasure side of nature, when it -came to business, he was invulnerable. - -At this point Mr. Herrick burst into song. He had a pretty tenor voice: - - Come, bring your sampler, and with art - Draw in’t a wounded heart - And dropping here and there! - Not that I think that any dart - Can make yours bleed a tear - Or pierce it anywhere—— - -This youth was proud of tracing a collateral relationship with the -genial Cavalier singer, whom he was fond of quoting in season and out of -season. He was a poet himself, or fancied so; cultivated loose locks, -open collars and flying ties—something also of poetic license in other -matters besides verse. But as his spirits were as inexhaustible as his -purse—and he was at heart a guileless boy—there were not many who would -hold him in rigour. - -Lady Lochore looked at him with approval, as he lay stretched at her -feet, just then pleasantly occupied in sticking his decapitated daisies -into Miss Priscilla’s uncovered curls—a process to which that damsel -submitted without so much as a blink of her demure eyelid. - -“Heart!” echoed Lady Lochore. She had received that morning a postal -application for overdue interest, and Tom Villars had been so detachedly -sympathetic that there were no tortures she would not now cheerfully -have inflicted upon him. “Heart!” she cried again, “why don’t you know -what is going to happen, when the poor old machine that is Tom Villars -comes to a standstill at last——” - -“There will be a great concourse of physicians,” broke in Colonel -Harcourt, whose wit was not equal to his humour, “and when they’ve taken -off his wig and his stays and cut him open——” - -“Out will fall,” interrupted Herrick, “the portrait of his dear cousin -Rebecca—whom he loved in the days of George II. - - ‘Be she likewise one of those - That an acre hath of nose——’” - -“The physician will find a dreadful little withered fungus,” pursued -Lady Lochore, unheeding. - -“Which,” lisped Priscilla, suddenly raising the most innocent eyes in -all the world, “which they will send to Master Rickart to find a grand -name for, as the deadliest kind of poison that ever set doctors -wondering. And sure, ’tisn’t poison at all! Master Rickart will say, but -just a poor kind of snuff that wouldn’t even make a cat sneeze.” - -Mr. Villars had met Miss Priscilla Geary upon the great oak stair this -morning; and, examining her through his single eyeglass, had vowed she -was a rosebud, and pinched her chin—all in a very condescending manner. - -“I think you’re all talking very great nonsense,” remarked the -Dishonourable Caroline. - -Mrs. Geary was comfortably ensconced in a deep garden chair. Now raising -her large pale face and protuberant pale eye from a note-book upon which -she had been making calculations, she seemed to become aware for the -first time of the irresponsible clatter around her. - -“Mr. Villars,” she proceeded, in soft gurgling notes not unlike those of -the ringdove’s, “I have been just going over last night’s calculations -and I think there’s a little error—on your side, dear Mr. Villars.” - -Mr. Villars scrambled to his feet, more discomfited by this polite -observation than by the broad insolence of the others’ banter. - -“My dear Madam, I really think, ah—pray allow me—we went thoroughly into -the matter last night.” - -The little pupils in Mrs. Geary’s goggling eyes narrowed to pins’ -points. - -“I do not think anyone can ever accuse me of inaccuracy,” she cooed with -emphasis. “Come and look for yourself, Mr. Villars. You owe me still -three pounds nine and eightpence—and three farthings.” - - “Bianca let - Me pay the debt - I owe thee, for a kiss!” - -sang the irrepressible Herrick—stretching his arms dramatically to -Priscilla, and advancing his impudent comely face as if to substantiate -the words—upon which she slapped him with little angry fingers -outspread; and Lady Lochore first frowned, then laughed; then suddenly -sighed. - -“Peep-bo, mamma!” cried a high baby voice. - -Every line of Lady Lochore’s face became softened, at the same time -intensified with that wonderful change that her child’s presence always -brought to her. But her heavy frown instantly came back as she beheld -Ellinor, hatless, bearing a glass of milk upon a tray, while, from -behind the crisp folds of her skirt, the heir-presumptive of Lochore -(and Bindon) peeped roguishly at his mother. - -Herrick sprang to his feet. Colonel Harcourt turned his brown face to -measure the new-comer with his frank eye and then rose also. - -“Hebe,” said he, looking down with admiration at the fresh, sun-kissed -cheek and the sun-illumined head, “Hebe, with the nectar of the God!” - -He took the tray from her hand. - -“Give me my milk,” said Lady Lochore. “Edmund, come here! Come here, -darling. Are you thirsty? You shall drink out of mother’s glass. Come -here, sir, this minute! Really, Mrs. Marvel, you should not take him -from his nurse like this!” - -With a shrill cry the child rushed back to Ellinor and clutched her -skirt again, announcing in his wilful way that he would have no nasty -milk, and that he loved the pretty lady. Ellinor had some little ado to -restore him to his mother. Then, seeing him firmly captured at last by -the end of his tartan sash, she stood a moment facing Lady Lochore’s -vindictive eyes with scornful placidity. - -“My father hopes you will drink the milk, cousin Maud,” said she, “and -if you would add to it the little packet of powder that lies beside it -on the tray, he bids me say that it would be most beneficial to your -cough.” - -For all response Lady Lochore drank off the glass; then handed back the -tray to Ellinor as if she had been a servant, the little powder -conspicuously untouched. Ellinor looked from one to the other of the two -men; then with a fine careless gesture passed her burden to Herrick, -and, without another word, walked away up the terrace steps. - -Herrick glanced after her, glanced at the tray in his hand, and breaking -into a quick laugh, promptly thrust it into Colonel Harcourt’s hands and -scurried off in pursuit. Colonel Harcourt good-humouredly echoed the -laugh, as he finally deposited the object on the grass, then stood in -his turn, gazing philosophically after the two retreating figures that -were now progressing side by side, while Lady Lochore and her son -out-wrangled Mrs. Geary and Mr. Villars. - -“’Pon my soul,” said Colonel Harcourt, “_vera incessu patuit Dea_. That -woman walks as well as any I’ve ever seen!” - -Lady Lochore caught the words, and they added to the irritation with -which she was endeavouring to stifle her son’s protestation that he -hated mamma. - -“I’ll have you know who’s master, sir!” she cried, pinning down the -struggling arms with sudden anger. - -“I’m master. I am the little Master of Lochore—and Margery says I’m to -be the little master here!” - -The mother suddenly relaxed her grasp of him and sat stonily gazing at -him while he rubbed his chubby arm and stared back at her with pouting -lips. The next moment she went down on her knees beside him, and took -him up in her arms, smothering him with kisses. - -“Darling, so he shall be, darling, darling!” - -A panting nurse here rushed upon the scene. - -“Wretch!” exclaimed my lady, “you are not worth your salt! How dare you -let the child escape you. Yes, take him, take him!—the weight of him!” - -She caught Harcourt’s eye fixed reflectively upon her. - -“Come and walk with me,” she commanded. - -“I was two by honours, you remember,” cooed Mrs. Geary. - -“I am positive, the Deyvil take my soul, Madam! But ’tis my score you -are marking instead of your own!” - -Deserted Priscilla sat making reflective bunches of daisies. She had not -once looked up since Herrick so unceremoniously left her. - -The sky was still as blue, the grass as green, the flowers as bright, -the whole summer’s day as lovely; but fret and discord had crept in -among them. - - - - - CHAPTER II - TOTTERING LIFE AND FORTUNE - - ... Loathsome sight, - How from the rosy lips of life and love - Flashed the bare grinning skeleton of death! - White was her cheek; sharp breaths of anger puff’d - Her nostrils.... - —TENNYSON (_Merlin and Vivien_). - - -With head erect, Lady Lochore walked on between the borders of lilies. -The path was so narrow and the lilies had grown to such height and -luxuriance that they struck heavily against her; and each time, like -swinging censers, sent gushes of perfume up towards the hot blue sky. - -Colonel Harcourt went perforce a step behind her, just avoiding to tread -on her garments as they trailed, dragging the little pebbles on the hot -grey soil. Now and again he mopped his brow. He liked neither the sun on -his back nor the strong breath of the flowers, nor this aimless -promenade. But, in his dealings with women, he had kept an invariable -rule of almost exaggerated deference in little things, and he had found -that he could go further in great ones than most men who disdained such -nicety. - -Suddenly Lady Lochore stopped and began to cough. Then she wheeled round -and looked at Harcourt with irate eyes over the folds of her -handkerchief she was pressing to her lips. - -Anthony Harcourt possessed a breast as hard as granite, withal an easy -superficial gentlemanly benevolence which did very well for the world in -lieu of deeper feeling; and a great deal better for himself. He was -quite shocked at the sound of that cough; still more so when Lady -Lochore flung out the handkerchief towards him with the inimitable -gesture of the living tragedy and showed it to him stained with blood. - -“Look at that, Tony,” said she, “and tell me how long do you think it -will be before I bark myself to death?” - -Her cheek was scarlet and her eyes shone with unnatural brilliance in -their wasted sockets. She swayed a little as she stood, like the lilies -about her; and indeed she herself looked like some passionate southern -flower wasting life and essence even as one looked at her. - -“Come out of this heat,” said Harcourt. He took her left arm and placed -it within his; led her to a stone bench in the shade. She sat down with -an impatient sigh, passed the back of the hand he had held impatiently -over her wet forehead and closed her eyes. In her right hand, crushed -upon her lap, the stained cambric lay hidden. - -“Is not this better,” said her companion, as if he were speaking to a -child, “out of that sunshine and the sickly smell of those flowers? Here -we get the breeze from the woods and the scent of the hay. A sort of -little heaven after a successful imitation of the infernal regions.” - -“If you mean Hell, why don’t you say Hell?” said Lady Lochore. She -laughed in that bitterness of soul that can find no expression but in -irony. “Bah!” she went on, half to herself. “It’s no use trying not to -believe in Hell, my friend; you have to, when you’ve got it in you! Look -here,” she suddenly blazed her unhappy eyes upon him. “Look here, -Tony—honour, now! How long do you give me?” - -All the man’s superficial benevolence looked sadly at her from his -handsome face. - -“I am no doctor.” - -“Faugh! Subterfuge!” - -“Why, then, at the rate going, not three months,” said he. “But, with -rational care, I’ve no doubt, as long as most.” - -“Not three months!” She clenched her right hand convulsively and glanced -down at the white folds escaping from her fingers as if they contained -her death warrant. “Thank, you, Tony. You’re a beast at heart, like the -rest of us, but you’re a gentleman. I am going at a rapid rate, am I -not? Oh, God! I shouldn’t care—what’s beyond can’t be worse than what’s -here. But it’s the child!” - -The man made no answer. He had the tact of all situations. Here silence -spoke the sympathy that was deeper than words. There was a pause, Lady -Lochore drew her breath in gasps. - -“It’s a pretty state of affairs here,” she said, at last, with her hard -laugh. - -“You mean——?” - -“I mean my sanctimonious brother and his prudish lady!” - -“Surely——?” He raised his eyebrows in expressive query. - -“Not she!” cried Lady Lochore in passionate disgust. “I would think the -better of her if she did. No, she’s none of those who deem the world -well lost for love. Oh, she’ll calculate! She’ll give nothing for -nothing! She’s laid her plans.” Lady Lochore began reckoning on three -angry fingers uplifted. “There’s the equivocal position—one; my -brother’s diseased notions of honour—two; her own bread-and-butter -comeliness—three. She’ll hook him, Tony. She’ll hook him, and my boy -will go a beggar! Lochore has pretty well ruined us as it is.” - -“I should not regard Sir David as a marrying man, myself,” said the -colonel soothingly. - -“No,” said she, “the last man in the world to marry, but the first to be -married on some preposterous claim! Look here, Tony, we are old friends. -I have not walked you off here to waste your time. You know that my -fortunes are in even more rapid decline than myself. There’s the child; -he is the heir to this place. Before God, what is it to me, but the -child and his rights! I’ll fight for them till I die. Not much of a -boast, you say, but when a woman’s pushed to it, as I am”—her voice -failed her. There was something awful in the contrast between the energy -of her passion and the frailness of her body and in the way they reacted -one upon another. - -“Poor soul!” said Colonel Harcourt to himself—and his kind eyes were -almost suffused. - -“Tony, Tony!” she panted in a whisper of frantic intensity, “you can -help. Oh, don’t look like that! I know I’m boring you, but I’ll not bore -anyone for long. Think what it means to me! Fool! As if any man could -understand! Don’t be afraid, I won’t ask anything hard of you. Only to -make love to the rosy dairymaid, to the prim housekeeper, to the pretty -widow. Why, man, you can’t keep your wicked eyes off her as it is!” - -He leaned back against the bench, crossed one shapely leg over the -other, closed his eyes and laughed gently to himself. Lady Lochore, -bending forward, measured him with a swift glance, and her lips parted -in a sneer. - -“You’re but a lazy fellow. You like your peach growing at your elbow. -You’ve been afraid of hurting my feelings ... you have been so long -regarded as my possession! Oh, Tony, that’s all over now. Listen—if you -don’t know the ways of woman, who does? The case is very plain: that -creature is planning to compromise David. I know how you can make love -when you choose, and I know my fool of a brother. I’ll have her -compromised first! And then——” - -She pressed her hands to her heart, then to her throat; for a moment or -two the poor body had struck work. Only her eyes pleaded, threatened. - -“And then? Before the Lord, you ladies!” - -For all his _bonhommie de viveur_, Colonel Harcourt, of the First -Guards, was known about Town to be a good deal of “a tiger,” as the cant -of the day had it; and he held a justified reputation as an expert with -the “saw-handle and hair-trigger.” Conscious of this, he went on: - -“Truly, Maud, it may well be said there’s never a man sent below but a -woman showed the way! But is there not something a little crude in your -plan?” - -“Crude! Have I time to be mealy-mouthed? I’m not asking you anything -very hard, God knows! Merely to follow your own bent, Tony Harcourt; you -have had your way with me, but that is over now, and you know it. I want -you to devote yourself to that piece of country bloom instead. In three -months you know what I shall be!...” - -“My dear Maud.... And then?” He was amused no longer: Lady Lochore was -undeniably crude. “A regular conspiracy!” he went on. But, after a -moment’s musing, a gleam came into his eye. “What of it!” he cried, -“all’s fair in love and war—a soldier’s motto, and it has been mine! And -as for you, why, your spirits would keep twenty alive!” - -She laughed scornfully. - -“It sounds better to say so, anyhow,” she retorted. “I don’t want any -mewing over me. So it’s a bargain, Tony? For old sake’s sake you’ll go -against all your principles and make love to a pretty woman? And we’ll -have this new Pamela out of the citadel. We’ll have this scheming -dairy-wench shown up in her true colours! My precious brother, as you -know, or you don’t know, has got some rather freakish notions about -women. He’s had a slap in the face once already, and it turned him -silly. Disgust him of this second love affair, he’ll never have a third -and I shall die in peace. You have marked the affectionate, fraternal -way in which he treats me! I had to force my way back into this house. -He’ll never forgive me for marrying Lochore—and as for Lochore himself, -to the trump of doom David will never forgive him for.... Bah! for doing -him the best turn one man ever did another!” - -“And what was that?” asked the colonel, with a slight yawn. - -“What you and I are going to do now,” said my Lady. She smoothed her -ruffled hair, folded her stained kerchief and slipped it into her bag; -rose, and looked down smiling once more at the man, her fine nostrils -fluttering with her quick breath in a way that gave a singular -expression of mocking cruelty to her face. “Lochore saved Sir David from -marrying beneath him.” - -“And how did he accomplish that?” asked the colonel, rising too. - -There was now a faint flutter of curiosity in his breast The reasons for -Sir David’s eccentricity had once been much discussed. Lady Lochore took -two steps down the path, then looked back over her shoulder. - -“In the simplest way in the world,” she answered. “He gave a greedy -child an apple, while my simpleton of a brother was solemnly forging a -wedding ring.” - -“Why”—the colonel stared, then laughed—“my Lady,” said he “these are -strange counsels! Why—absurd! How could I think the plump, pretty -Phyllis would as much as blink at an old fogey like me. And, as for -me——” - -Again Lady Lochore turned her head and looked long and fully at the -speaker. - -“Oh, Tony!” she said slowly at last. “Tony, Tony!” - -Colonel Harcourt tried in vain to present a set face of innocence; the -self-conscious smile of the gratified _roué_ quivered on his lips. He -broke into a sudden loud laugh and wagged his head at her. She dropped -her eyelids for a second to shut out the sight. - -“And she bit into the apple?” asked the colonel, presently. - -“With all her teeth, my dear friend. Heavens! isn’t the world’s history -but one long monotonous repetition? With us Eves, everything depends -upon the way the fruit is offered. And that is why, I suppose, it is -seldom Adam and his legitimate orchard that tempts us. Reflect on that, -Tony.” - -With this fleer, and a careless forbidding motion of her hand, she left -him standing and looking after her. - -There was a mixture of admiration and distrust in his eyes. - -“By George, what a woman!” said he. “Gad, I’m glad I am not her Adam, -anyhow!” - -Then his glance grew veiled, as it fixed itself upon an inward thought, -and a slow complacent smile crept upon his face. - - - - - CHAPTER III - STRAWS ON THE WIND - - ... I feel my genial spirits droop, - My hopes all flat.... - —MILTON (_Samson Agonistes_). - - -“I never heard you, my dear Doctor, preach better!” said Madam -Tutterville. - -But the worthy lady’s countenance was overcast as she spoke; and the -hands which were smoothing and folding the surplice that the parson had -just laid aside were shaking. The reverend Horatio turned upon his -spouse with a philosophic smile. The lady did not use to seek him thus -in the sacristy after service unless something in the Sunday -congregation seemed to call for her immediate comment. On this -particular morning he well knew where the thorn pricked; for he himself, -mounting to the pulpit with the consciousness of an extra-polished -discourse awaiting that choice Oxford delivery which had so rare a -chance of being appreciated, had not seen without a pang of vexation -that the Bindon House pew was empty save for its usual occupant—Mrs. -Marvel. Having promptly overcome his small weakness and proceeded with -his sermon with all the eloquence he would have bestowed on the expected -cultivated, or at least fashionable, audience, he was now all the more -ready to banter his wife upon her distress. - -“What is the matter, dear Sophia?” - -“An ungrateful and reprobate generation! He that will not hear the -church, let him be to thee as the heathen and the publican!” cried -Madam, suddenly rolling the surplice into a tight bundle and indignantly -gesticulating with it. - -“How now! has Joe Mossmason been snoring under your very nose, or has -Barbara——” - -“Tush, tush, Doctor! You know right well what I mean. Was not that empty -pew a scandal and a disgrace? Bindon House full of guests and not one to -come and bend the knee to their Lord!” - -“And admire my rolling periods, is it not so, my faithful spouse?” quoth -the parson good-naturedly. - -“I took special care to remind them of the hour of service last night; -not, indeed, that I ever expected anything of Maud; although she might -well be thinking that in every cough she gives she can find the -hand-writing on the wall. Amen, amen, I come like a thief in the night!” - -The parson’s eyelids contracted slightly, but he made no reply. Seating -himself in the wooden armchair, he began with some labour to encircle -his unimpeachable legs with the light summer gaiters that their -unprotected, silk-stocking state demanded for out-door walking. - -“My dear Horatio, what are you doing? Allow me!” She was down on her -knees in a second; and while, with her amazing activity of body, she -wielded the button-hook, her tongue never ceased to wag under the stress -of her equally amazing activity of mind. - -“But that card-playing woman—that Jezebel—one would have thought she’d -have had the decency to open a prayer-book on the day when the -commandments of the Lord forbid her to shuffle a pack; she’s old enough -to know better!” - -“I’m not so sure,” said the reverend Horatio, complacently stretching -out the other leg, “that she interprets the Sabbath ordinance in that -spirit.” - -“Horatio!” ejaculated the outraged churchwoman, “you do not mean to -insinuate that such simony could take place within our diocese as -card-playing on the Sunday?” - -“I think, from what I have seen from the Honourable Mrs. Geary, that she -is likely to show more interest in the card-tables than in the tables of -Moses.” - -He laughed gently. - -“Talking of Moses,” cried Madam Tutterville, feverishly buttoning, -“there’s that Mr. Villars—one would have thought he would come, if only -to show himself a Christian.” - -But she was careful, even in her righteous exasperation, not to nip her -parson’s tender flesh. - -“Thank you, Sophia!” - -He rose and reached for his broad-brimmed hat; then suddenly perceiving -from his wife’s empurpled cheek and trembling lip that the slight had -gone deeper than he thought, he patted her on the shoulder and said in -an altered manner: - -“Come, come, Sophia, let us remember that fortunately we are not -responsible for the shortcomings of Lady Lochore’s guests. Indeed, from -what I saw last night, it is a matter of far deeper moment to consider -the effect of their presence upon those two who are dear to us at -Bindon.” - -“You mean, Doctor?” - -“I did not like David’s looks, my dear. I fear the strain and the -disgust, and the effort to repress himself, are too much for him. And -besides”—he paused a moment—“I don’t know that I altogether liked -Ellinor’s looks either.” - -“My dear Horatio! I thought I had never seen her so gay and so -handsome.” - -“Too gay, Sophia, and too handsome. So Mr. Herrick and Colonel Harcourt -not to speak of that pitiable person, Mr. Villars, seem to find her. She -appears to me to take their admiration with rather more ease than is -perhaps altogether wise in a young woman in her position. I do not say,” -he went on, bearing down the lady’s horrified exclamation—“I do not go -so far as yourself in surmising that David had formed any serious -attachment in that quarter; but then, you see, it might have ripened -into one. There is no doubt there was a singular air of peace and -happiness about Bindon before this most undesirable influx. But last -night David’s eyes——” He broke off, readied for his cane and moved -towards the porch. - -“My dear sir,” panted Madam Tutterville after him, “you have plunged me -in very deep anxiety! We seem indeed, as Paul says, to be going from -Scyllis to Charybda! Pray proceed with your sentence—David’s eyes?” - -But the parson had already repented. - -“Nay, it is after all but a small matter. All I mean is that this noise, -this wrangling, this frivolity, this trivial mirth, which is, after all, -but the crackling of thorns, is peculiarly distasteful to such a man as -David, and I was only sorry that your niece should seem to countenance -it.” - -“I will speak to her,” announced Madam Tutterville. “I will instantly -seek her.” - -“Nay,” said her lord, “my dear Sophia, here we have no right to -interfere. Ellinor has sufficient experience of the world to be left to -her own devices. I understand that Colonel Harcourt and Mr. Herrick are -neither of them a mean _parti_, and, unless I am seriously mistaken, the -younger man at least is genuinely enamoured. By what right can we permit -our own secret wishes, our own rather wild match-making plans, to step -in here?” - -“Oh, dear!” sighed Sophia. “And we were so comfortable!” - -The two stood arm-in-arm at the lych-gate and absently watched the last -of their parishioners straggling homeward in groups through the avenue -trees. Suddenly Madam Tutterville touched her husband’s arm and pointed -with a dramatic gesture in the direction of the House. - -Two tall slight figures were moving side by side across the sunlit -green. Even as the rector looked a third, emerging from the shadows of -the beeches, joined them with sweeping gestures of greeting. - -“They have been, I declare, lying in wait for Ellinor ... and there she -goes off between them, Sunday morning and all!” - -Deeply shocked and annoyed was Madam Tutterville. - -“I think,” said the parson, “that I will take an hour’s rest in the -garden. I would, my dear Sophia, you had as soothing an acquaintance, on -such an occasion as Ovid.” - - - - - CHAPTER IV - A SHOCK AND A REVELATION - - Into these sacred shades (quoth she) - How dar’st thou be so bold - To enter, consecrate to me, - Or touch this hallowed mould? - —MICHAEL DRAYTON (_Quest of Cynthia_). - - -Ellinor sat on the stone bench in the Herb-Garden, gazing disconsolately -at the flourishing bed of _Euphrosinum_—at the Star-of-Comfort—and -reviewing the events of the past days with a heavy and discomforted -heart. - -It is but seldom now that she could find a few minutes of solitude, so -many were the claims upon her time. For, besides the household duties -and Master Simon’s unconscious tyranny, she was subjected to a kind of -persecution of admiration on the part of Bindon’s male guests. There -were times, indeed, when Colonel Harcourt’s shadowing attendance became -so embarrassing that she was glad to turn to the protection which the -boyish worship of Luke Herrick afforded. - -With the former she felt instinctively that under an almost exaggerated -gentleness and deference there lurked a gathering danger; whereas the -youthful poet, however exuberant in his devotion, was not only a -harmless, but a sympathetic companion. - -While she was far from realising the peril in which she stood where her -dearest hopes were concerned, she felt the difficulty of her position -increase at every turn. Forced by David’s wish into the society of his -visitors, she was there completely ostracised by the ladies after an art -only known to the feminine community. Thus she was thrown upon the -mercies of the gentlemen, and they were extended to her with but too -ready charity. It would not have been in human nature not to talk and -laugh with Luke Herrick when Miss Priscilla was going by, her little -nose in the air. It was impossible not to accept with a smiling grace -the chair, the footstool, the greeting offered to her with a mixture of -paternal and courtierlike solicitude, amid the icy silence and the -drawing away of skirts whenever she entered upon the circle. - -Now and again, perhaps, her laugh may have been a little too loud, her -smile a shade too sweet; but she would not have been a woman had the -insulting attitude of the other women not led her to some reprisals. -Moreover there was a deep sore place in her soul which cried out that he -who should by rights be her protector held himself too scornfully aloof; -nay, that he actually included her now and again in the cold glance -which he swept round the table upon his unwelcome guests. To the end of -the chapter a woman will always seize the obvious weapon wherewith to -fight the indifference of the man she loves, and nine times out of ten -it is herself she wounds therewith. - -The basket that was to hold the health of the village was still empty by -her side. Absently she fingered a sprig of wormwood—meet emblem, she -thought, of her present mood. Indeed, Ellinor’s thoughts were not often -so bitter. Not often was her brave spirit so dashed. - -There came a light rapid step behind her, a burst of laughter; and, as -she turned, the triumphant face of Herrick met her glance at so slight a -distance from her own that she drew back in double indignation. - -“Why have you followed me?” she exclaimed indignantly. “You know that no -one is allowed here!” - - “How can I choose but love and follow her - Whose shadow smells like mild pomander? - How can I choose but——” - -The gay voice broke off suddenly, and a flush—fellow to that of Ellinor, -yet one of engaging embarrassment, overspread the singer’s face. - -“Well, sir?” she asked. - -How stern, how stiff, how unapproachable, this woman whom nature had -made of such soft lovely stuff! Luke Herrick stooped, lifted a corner of -her muslin apron, and carried it humbly to his lips. - - “How could I choose but kiss her! Whence does come - The storax, spikenard, myrrh and labdanum?” - -he went on, dropping his recitative note for what was almost a whisper. -From his suppliant posture he looked up with eyes in which the man -pleaded, yet where the boy’s irrepressible, irresponsible -mischievousness still lurked. It was impossible not to feel that anger -was an absurd weapon against so frivolous a foe. Moreover she liked him. -There was something infectious in his mercurial humour, something -attractive in the honest boy nature that lay open for all to read. There -was something of a relief, also, to be obliged to jest and to laugh. To -be near him was like meeting a breeze from some lost, careless youth. - -Why, after all, should she not try and forget her own troubles? What was -the Herb-Garden to him, to David, that, with a fond faithfulness she -should insist on keeping it consecrate to the memory of one dawn! He who -had begged for the key of it—what use had he made of the gift? How many -a golden morning, how many a pearly day-break, how many an amethyst -evening, had she haunted the scented enclosure—always alone! - -“I’ll not say a single little word,” he urged. “I’ll be as mute as a -sundial, if you’ll only let me bask in your radiance! I’ll just hold -your basket and your scissors, and I’ll chew every single herb and tell -you whether its taste be sweet, sour or bitter, if you’ll only give me a -leaf between your white fingers. And then if I die——” - -He thumped his ruffled shirt and languished. - -“How did you get in?” she asked. - -But though her tone was still rebuking, he laughed back into her blue -eyes. He made a gesture: she saw the traces of moss, of lichen and -crumbling mortar upon his kerseymere, the rent in his lace ruffle, the -tiny broken twig that had caught his crisp curl. - -“Ah,” she cried, “you have found my old secret scaling place.... Did you -land in the balm bed?” she asked, laughing. - - -Colonel Harcourt, in search of Ellinor, looked in through the locked -gate and knocked once or twice, then called gently. But, though he could -hear bursts of laughter and the intermingling sounds of voices in gay -conversation, he could see nothing but the strange herb-beds and bushes, -intersected by narrow paths, overhung by swarmlets of humming bees and -other honey-seeking insects; and no one seemed to hear him. - -As he stood, smiling to himself in good humoured cynicism, the tall -figure of his host, with bare head, came slowly out of the laurel walk -that led to the open plot before the gate. Sir David seemed absorbed in -thought. And it was not until he was within a pace or two of the other -man that he suddenly looked up. - -“Good morning!” said the colonel genially. “A lovely day, is it not? -Queer place, that old garden of weeds—our friend, Master Simon’s -herbary, as I understand. The gate is locked, I find.” - -As he spoke, Colonel Harcourt scanned the set, pallid face with a keen -curiosity. It required all a sick woman’s disordered fancy (he told -himself) to imagine that this cold-blooded student, this walking symbol -of abstractedness should be in danger of being led away into romantic -folly. The soldier’s full smiling lips parted still more broadly, as he -went on to reflect that, whatever designs the pretty widow might have -upon her cousin’s fortune, her warm splendid personality was scarce -likely to be attracted by “this long, thin, icy, fish of a fellow!” - -Sir David had inclined his head gravely on the other’s greeting. When -the hearty voice had rattled off its speech, he answered that he -regretted that it was the rule to admit no visitors to the Herb-Garden. -And then drew a key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock, so -completely ignoring his guest’s persistent proximity, that the colonel, -as a man of breeding would have felt it incumbent upon him to retire, -had he not special reasons for standing his ground. - -“Indeed!” said he. “Forbidden ground?” - -“Yes, the plants are many of them deadly poison. It is a necessary -precaution.” - -“No doubt—quite right. Very prudent. But—what about the charming Mrs. -Ellinor Marvel, the beauteous widow, the bewitching and amiable cousin, -whom you are fortunate to have as companion in this romantic house?” - -David dropped his hand from the key, turned and fixed his grave eyes on -the speaker. Their expression was merely one of waiting for the next -remark. The colonel hardly felt quite as assured of his ground as -before, but he resumed in the same tone of banter: - -“I saw her going there just now. Is it quite safe to let so precious a -being into such dangerous precincts?” - -The remark ended with that laugh upon the hearty note of which so much -of his popularity rested. Most people found it impossible not to respond -to this breezy way of Colonel Harcourt’s. But there was not a flicker of -change upon Sir David’s countenance. - -Yet, when he spoke, after coldly pausing till the other’s mirth should -have utterly ceased, and remarked that his cousin, Mrs. Marvel, was -associated with her father’s scientific investigations and therefore was -the only person, besides the speaker himself, whom he allowed to make -use of the garden, the colonel felt that his insinuation had been -understood and rebuked by a courtesy severer than anger. His resentment -suddenly rose. The easy contempt with which he had hitherto regarded the -uncongenial personality of his host, flamed on the instant into active -dislike; and he was glad to have a weapon in his hand which might find a -joint in this irritatingly impenetrable armour. - -“Indeed!” cried he, ruffled out of his usual commanding urbanity.—Trying -to smile he found himself sneering. “Indeed? Aha, very good, I declare! -It is worth while living on a tower to be able to retain those confiding -views of life! It has never struck you, I suppose—the stars are -doubtless never in the least irregular in their courses, but young and -charming widows have little ways of their own—it has never struck you -that this forbidden wilderness might be an ideal spot for rendezvous?” - -Sir David shot at the speaker a look very unlike that far-off -indifferent glance which was all he had hitherto vouchsafed him. This -sudden, steel-bright, concentrated gaze was like the baring of a blade. -Dim stories of the recluse’s romantic and violent youth began to stir in -Harcourt’s memory. He straightened his own sturdy figure and the -instinctive hot defiance of the fighter at the first hint of an opposing -spirit ran tingling to his stiffening muscles. - -So, for a quick-breathing moment, they fixed each other. Then, through -the drowsy humming summer stillness rang from within the Herb-Garden the -note of Herrick’s singing voice: - - “Go, lovely rose and, interwove - With other flowers, bind my love. - Tell her too, she must not be, - Longer flowing, longer free——” - -The melody broke off. There was a burst of laughter; and then Ellinor’s -voice, with an unusual sound of young merriment in it, sprang up into -hearing as a crystal fountain springs into sight: - -“Foolish boy, there are no roses here!” - -Sir David started. His eyes remained fixed, but they no longer saw. In -yet another moment he had turned away and was gone, leaving Colonel -Harcourt staring after him. - -“’Pon my life,” said the _roué_ to himself, “the woman was right—My God, -he’s mad for her!” - -Upon a second and more composed thought, he began to chuckle and feel -his own personality resume its lost importance. - -“The situation is becoming interesting,” he thought. His eye fell on the -key, forgotten in the lock and he broke into a short laugh. He then -unlocked the gate, slipped the key into his pocket and walked into the -garden. - -“I had no idea,” he said, addressing the balm beds, as he passed them, -“that I could be such a useful friend to my Lady.” - - - - - CHAPTER V - SILENT NIGHT THE REFUGE - - My life has crept so long on a broken wing - Thro’ cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, - That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing: - My mood is changed, for it fell at a time of year - When the face of night is fair on the dewy downs - ... and the Charioteer - And starry Gemini hang like glorious crowns - Over Orion’s grave low down in the west. - —TENNYSON. - - -Ellinor had had, perforce, so busy an afternoon (to make up for time -lost in the morning) that, marshalled by Lady Lochore, all the guests -were already at table when she came in that night. - -She stood a moment framed in the doorway, a brilliant apparition. -Despite its many candelabras and the soft light that still poured into -it through open windows, the great room—oak-panelled and oak-ceiled—was -of its essence richly dark. Nearly black were those panels, polished by -centuries to inimitable gloss and reflecting the flames of the candles -like so many little yellow crocuses.—Such walls are the best background -for fair women and fine clothes; for roses and silver and gold. - -This evening Ellinor had been moved—though she hardly knew why—to -discard her severely simple gowns for a relic of the early days of her -married life, a garment of a fashion already passed. In the embroidered -fabric she was clothed as a flower is clothed by its sheath. A narrow -white satin train with a heavy border of little golden roses fell from -her shoulders in folds that accentuated her height. The classic cut, -that laid bare a sweep of neck and arm that not another woman in the -county could boast, became her as simplicity does royalty. The mingling -of the white and gold was repeated by her skin and hair. As she cast a -last look at herself, in the mirror before leaving her room, a smile of -innocent delight had parted her lips. She had seen herself beautiful—how -beautiful she was, she herself indeed did not know. She had thought of -David and had been glad. The ever more open admiration with which both -Herrick and Colonel Harcourt had surrounded her throughout the day had -stimulated her in some strange, but very feminine and quite pure, -manner, to make better use of these gifts of hers to pleasure the eyes -of the man she loved. - -Now Lady Lochore was the first to see her on her entrance. She put up -her eyeglasses and stared, and then dropped them with a pale convulsion -which turned the next moment to a vindictive smile. - -Colonel Harcourt followed the direction of her eyes and positively -started with a frank stare of delight. He wheeled boldly round to feast -his eyes at ease; the action and the attitude were almost equivalent to -applause. Then it seemed to Ellinor that every head was turned, that -every eye was upon her; and her innocent assurance suddenly failed her. -Timidly she shot a glance towards the head of the table. Alas! everyone -was looking at her, except him whose gaze alone meant anything. All her -childish pleasure fell from her. - -She advanced composedly enough, however, and took the only vacant seat, -which was between the colonel and young Herrick, vaguely responding to -their advance. After a while a sort of invincible attraction made her -look up. She met David’s eyes—met the chill of death where she had -expected the warmth of life! - -What had happened? Her heart seemed to wither away, the smile was -paralysed on her lips; the flowers, the lights, the flashes of silver -and colour, the babel of talk about her—it all became nightmare, an -unreal world of mocking shadows, in which one thing only was horribly -and intensely alive, the pain of her sudden misery. After a moment, -however, some kind of self-possession returned. The pressing exigency -that weighs upon us all, of preserving our bearing in company, no matter -whether soul or body be at torture, forced her to answer the running -fire of remarks that seemed to be levelled at her with diabolical -persistency. - -Even the kind, friendly presence of the rectory pair seemed destined -that night to add to her difficulty; for while uncle Horatio was quoting -Greek at her across the table, Madam Tutterville was assuring her -neighbors that if Mrs. Marvel was unpunctual for once she was -nevertheless the faithful virgin with lamp in excellent condition, who -knew how to trim her wicks; and was, in fact, the strong woman of -Proverbs who got up early. - -“One rose in the fair garden was missing, and I missed her!” said the -rector, poetically, while he turned an affectionate glance upon his -niece. - -“Dear uncle Horatio,” said she, “I had rather be greeted by you than -acclaimed by a court.” - -“Horrible, horrible cruel to poor adoring courtiers!” murmured Colonel -Harcourt in her ear. - -At any moment, that confidential lowering of the voice, that bold -intimacy of the gaze would have excited Ellinor’s swiftest rebuke; but -now she only laughed nervously as she endeavoured to rally in reply to -Herrick’s equally low-pitched, but quite guileless show of interest. - -“What is the matter with you?” he was whispering; “you went as white as -a sheet just now. Has anyone annoyed you? Do tell me!” - -“I, white—what nonsense!” she cried; and her voice rang a little louder -and harder than usual in her effort, while the rush of blood that had -succeeded her momentary faintness left an unusual scarlet on both -cheeks. “Why, I am burning! And so would you be if you had spent the day -between the alembic stove and the kitchen!” - -“Perhaps,” said Miss Priscilla, lifting her innocent eyes to shoot -baby-anger across at the neglectful Herrick, “perhaps,” she said, in her -small soft voice, “it also was sitting so long in the sun in the -Herb-Garden, that’s given you that colour. There’s Mister Luke has got -the match of it himself.” - -Lady Lochore gave a loud laugh. - -“Mrs. Marvel has so many irons in the fire!” she suggested. - -Ellinor looked round the table. She seemed to remain the centre of -notice: on the part of the women (with the exception of aunt Sophia) an -inimical, almost vindictive notice; while, where the men were concerned, -she could not turn her gaze without meeting glances of undisguised hot -admiration. Instinctively, as if for help, she again sought David’s -gaze, and again was thrown back into indescribable terror and -bewilderment by his countenance. Only once through all the phases of -gloom, discouragement, renunciation that his soul had passed through in -her company, had she seen his features wear that deathlike mask—it was -when he had battled with himself before reading his sister’s letter. And -now this repudiation, nay, this contempt of things, was directed—she -felt it with a nightmare sense of inevitableness—towards herself. -Herself! - -Oh, the torture of that long elaborate repast, the nauseating weariness -of the ceaseless round of dishes, the inane ceremonies of wine-taking, -the glass clinking, the jokes, the laughter, the compliments, the -struggle to parry the spiteful or the too ardent innuendo, to laugh with -the rest at Aunt Sophia’s happy inaccuracy, to respond to her proud -congratulations over the success of each remove! Ellinor’s life had not -been an easy one; but no harder hour had it ever meted out to her than -this. - -Parson Tutterville had suddenly become grave and silent. His kind, -shrewd gaze had wandered several times from the gloom of David’s -countenance to the flush upon Ellinor’s cheek. Then, with fixed eyes, -fell into a reflection so profound that—most unusual occurrence in the -amiable epicure’s existence—the superb wine before him waited in vain to -whisper its fragrant secret, and the most artistic succulence was left -untasted upon his plate. - -When the party at length broke up, he himself, in a coign of vantage, -caught Ellinor’s arm as she passed him. - -“My dear child,” he said under his voice, “something must have happened! -I have not seen David look like this since the old evil days—the Black -Dog is sitting on his shoulder with a vengeance! What is it?” - -Ellinor’s lip quivered. She shook her head, words failed her. A shade of -severity crept into the rector’s face. - -“Have you quarrelled?” - -Again the mute reply. - -“Have you nothing to tell me? Ah, child, take care; David is not like -other men! His mind is a complicated piece of machinery—and the common -tools, Ellinor, will only work havoc here!” - -Ellinor’s sore heart was stabbed again. She understood the veiled -rebuke; and the injustice of it so hurt her that to hide her tears, she -broke from the kind hand and rushed from the room in the wake of the -disdainful petticoats that had just swept by her. - -Parson Tutterville looked after her with puzzled air; then, sighing, -returned to the table. Here David was dispensing the hospitality of -Bindon’s matchless cellar, discoursing to his guests in a mood of irony -so bitter yet so intangible as to fill the rector with fresh alarm. - -The reverend Horatio took his seat at the right of the master; and, -without a spark of interest, watched the pale hand busy among the -decanters fill his beaker. He would, indeed, have preferred not to put -his lips to it, had the exigencies of the social moment but permitted -it, so utterly had that smile of David’s turned its flavour for him. - -“By George!” exclaimed the colonel, flinging himself luxuriously back in -his chair and speaking with the enthusiasm of an experienced sensualist, -“by George, a glorious tipple! Enough to turn the whitest-livered cur -into a hero! Come, come, gentlemen, we must not let such grape juice run -down our throats unconsecrate, as if we were beasts. Let us dedicate -every drop of it.—A toast, a toast!” - -He had reached that agreeable state which should be the aim of the -expert diner at this crucial moment of the repast. He had eaten well and -had drunk wisely; and was now on the fine border line where the utmost -enjoyment of the sober man merges into the first elevation of spirit of -the slightly intoxicated. - -“I propose our amiable host,” he went on, just as Herrick, springing to -his feet and raising his glass exclaimed: - -“There can be here but one worthy toast—the fair ones of Bindon.” - -“Our Queens, our Goddesses, our Nymphs, our Angels!” interrupted -Villars, with his usual inspiration. - -“Our fair ones!” echoed David, rising also; “indeed nothing could be -more just than that we should devote the blood wrung from the grape that -makes, as Colonel Harcourt truly says, heroes of mankind, to woman, that -other spring of all our noble actions. Is it not so, my gallant -Colonel?” - -“Hear him, hear!” cried innocent Herrick, beating the table with an -excited hand. - -David’s glacial eye fell for a moment on the hot boy-face, and there -flickered in it a kind of faint pity. So, one might fantastically fancy, -would a spirit recently rent from the body by an agonising death, look -from its own corpse upon those who had yet to die. - -“Let us drink,” said David, and raised his glass, “to Woman! Without her -what should we know of ourselves, of our friends, of the treasures of -the human heart and the nobility of the human mind, of honour, of -purity, of faithfulness!” - -Dr. Tutterville looked up at the speaker, resting his hand on the table -in the attitude of one prepared to spring forward in an emergency. As -David’s voice rang out ever more incisive he was reminded of the -breaking of sheets of ice under the stress of dark waters below. - -“A moment, please,” here intervened Colonel Harcourt’s mellow note. -“Friend Herrick’s excellent suggestion, and our host’s most eloquent -adoption of it, can yet (craving your pardon, gentlemen) be amended. Let -us not dilute the enjoyment of this excellent moment—let us concentrate -it, as good Master Simon would say. Gentlemen, this glass not to women, -but to the one woman! Come, parson, up with you! Fie—what would Madam -Tutterville say? And he has but given half his heart who fears to -proclaim its mistress. Hoy! Gone away! And out on you if you shy at the -fence! I drink to Mistress Marvel—to the marvel of Marvels, aha!” - -He tossed down his glass, looking coolly at David, while Herrick, -leaning forward with the furious eyes of the young lover stung, glared -across the table and balanced his own glass in his hand with an intent -which another second had seen carried out, had not the parson’s fingers -quietly closed upon his; had not the parson’s voice murmured in his ear: - -“Remember, my young friend, that the imprudent champion is a lady’s -greatest enemy.” - -This while Villars, on his side, sputtering into silly laughter, -protested that fair play was a jewel and that if Harcourt had stolen a -march upon him, he Villars might yet be in “at the death!” - -David stood still, glass in hand, dangerously still, while his eyes -first wandered round the table, from face to face, and then beyond out -to the midsummer twilight sky that shone through the parted folds of the -curtains. And then the parson, who was watching him, saw a marvellous -change come over the bitter passion of his face. It was as if the mask -had fallen away. The rigid composure, the tense lines relaxed, the -sombre eye was lit with a new light; and ethereal peace touched the -troubled forehead. - -Wondering, the divine turned to the window also; followed the direction -of David’s abstracted gaze and saw how, in the placid primrose space, -the first evening star had lit her tender little lamp. - -There was a moment’s curious silence in the great room. Then, from -David’s hand the glass fell, breaking on the mahogany; and the ruby wine -was spilled in a great splash and ran stealthily, looking like blood. -And the host, the lord of Bindon, with head erect and eyes fixed upon -visions that none could even guess at, turned and left them all—without -a word. - -Re-acting against the unusual sensation that had almost paralysed them, -Bindon’s guests raised a shout of protest, and Harcourt sprang angrily -towards the closing door. But the parson again interposed. - -“I pray you,” he said, with a dignity that imposed obedience, “I pray -you let Sir David depart. He has gone back to his tower, and there no -one must disturb him. He leaves you to your own more congenial company.” - -Colonel Harcourt broke into a boisterous laugh as he sank back into his -chair, and reached for the bottle. - -“Pity for the good wine spilt—that’s all,” he cried. “But ’twas wasted -anyhow upon such a dreamy lunatic!” - -Unceremoniously he filled himself another brimmer, and reflecting a -moment— - -“Now to my Lady Lochore!” said he at length slowly, “and to the wish of -her heart!” - -Doctor Tutterville looked at him askance. Then, after a moment, he too -rose, and with an old-fashioned bow all round, left the room. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - THE LUST OF RENUNCIATION - - O purblind race of miserable men, - How many among us at this very hour - Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves - By taking true for false or false for true! - —TENNYSON (_Geraint and Enid_). - - -Ellinor went straight from the dining-room to seek her father in his -peaceful retreat. Courage failed her to face the company any longer that -night; she had, moreover, a longing to be with one who at least would -not misunderstand her. - -But, on the very threshold, her heart sank. It hardly needed Barnaby’s -warning clutch at her gown from where he sat like a statue of -watchfulness, just inside the door, his shake of the head and mysterious -finger on lip to show her that her coming was inopportune. The very -atmosphere of the room forbade interruption. The air seemed full of -floating thoughts, of whispering voices and stealthy vapours; of these -singular aromas that to her were like the letters of a strange language -which she had hardly yet learned to spell. Up to the vaulted roof the -whole space was humming with mysterious activity; a thousand energies -were in being around some secret work. And there, master-brain and -centre power, her father, seated at his table, like a mimic creator -evolving a world of his own out of the forces of his chaos! - -She came forward a step or two. His underlip was moving rapidly; and -broken, unintelligible words dropped from time to time among the -whispering vapour-voices all about him, like stones into a singing -fountain. Now he lifted his blue eyes, stared straight at her—and saw -her not! - -Once or twice before she had known him in this state of mental -isolation; she was aware that his brain was wound up to an extraordinary -pitch, and that to interfere with its operations or endeavour now to -bring its thoughts into another current would be at once useless to -herself and cruel to him. - -Alas! He had been at his mysterious drugs again—those unknown powers -that were beginning to fill her with secret terrors. She had more than -once implored him to deal no more with them; but she might as well have -implored a Napoleon to desist from planning conquest as the old chemist -from experimenting upon himself or others. - -She turned, and looked questioningly at Barnaby, who, by some strange -dog-like intuition, never failed to remain within sight of his master at -such moments. And the lad’s expressive pantomime convinced her that her -surmises were right. With a new anxiety added to her burden, she -withdrew. - -As she stood a moment outside the door, in deep despondency, she heard -footfalls coming rapidly down the long passage which led from the -tower-wing to the main body of the house. Her heart leaped: her heart -would always echo to the sound of that step, as an untouched lute will -answer to the call of its own harmony. It was David! - -His brow uplifted, his gaze fixed, he came swiftly out of the shadow -into the little circle of light; passed her so closely as nearly to -brush her with his sleeve and crossed into the darkness again. And she -heard the beat of his foot on the tower stairs in the distance, mount, -mount, and die away. As little as her father, had he been aware of her -presence! - -She pressed her hands against her breast; and the taste of the tears she -would not shed lay bitter on her tongue, the grip of the sob she would -not utter left strangling pain in her throat. Poor all-human thing, with -all her human passions, human longings, human weakness, what was she to -do between these two visionaries! - -Then, in the natural revolt of youth repressed, she came to a sudden -resolution. Her father was old; and, besides, he had drugged himself -to-night till nothing lived in him but the mind. But David was young, -young like herself! What was to hinder from following him again to his -altitude; from calling upon him, by all the blood of her beating heart -to the blood of his own, to come back from that spirit-world where she -could not stand beside him—back to her level, where only a little while -ago he had found a green and flowering resting-place? Then she would let -him look into her soul. Then, with a tender hand, she would take that -mask from his face. Then the hideous incomprehensible shadow that had -come between them would fly before the light of truth, and (even to -herself she could hardly formulate the sweetness of that hope into -words) before the revelation of Love! - -She caught up her heavy satin train and her gossamer muslins and ran, as -if flying from her own hesitation, up the great stone stairs without a -pause to listen to the beating of her heart, across the threshold of -that room where, upon that first evening of tender memory, she had -tripped and been caught against his breast. - -He was not in the observatory. She sought the platform. She had known -that she would find him there: and there indeed he stood, even as -pictured in her mind, with folded arms and looking up at the sky. She -looked up also, and was jealously glad, in her woman’s heart, that, so -radiant was the summer moon to-night, those shining rivals of hers were -but few and faint to the eye. - -She laid her hand upon his arm; he turned, without a word, stared a -second: - -“Ellinor!” - -She had meant to call him back to earth, but not like this! Here was -again the incomprehensible look that had rested upon her at dinner, but -with an added fierceness of anger so foreign to all she had known of him -that she felt as if it slashed her. - -“Oh, what has happened? David, what have I done?” - -She clasped and wrung her hands. On her heat of pleading his answer fell -like ice. - -“Done?” he echoed, with that pale smile that seemed to mock at itself; -“done, my fair cousin? Nothing in truth that anyone—I least of all—could -find fault with. It would be as wise to chide the winds for shifting -from north to south as to hold a woman responsible for her own nature.” - -His light tones was in startling contrast with the flame of his eye. All -unaware of any incident of the day that could have afforded ground for -this change, she found as yet no clue in his words to guide her. - -“David, David—what is it?” she cried again. - -In the anguish of her desire to break down the barrier between them, to -get close to his soul again, she stepped towards him, hardly noticing -that he drew back from her until he was brought up by the parapet of the -platform. When he could retreat no further, he threw out his hand with a -forbidding gesture. - -She stood obedient but bewildered, as a child that is threatened though -it knows not why. The winds of the summer night played with the tendrils -of her hair and softly blew the fair white fabric of her gown closer -against her, while the tide of moon rays, pouring over her bare -shoulders and arms, glorifying the smooth skin with a radiant gleam as -of mother-of-pearl, flashed back in scintillations from the burnished -embroideries of her robes; so that, with the heaving of her breast and -the tremor which shook her whole frame, she seemed to be enveloped with -running silver fires. - -Something—a passion, a mad desire—flickered into the man’s face, as if, -for an instant, a hidden fire had leapt up. The next instant this was -succeeded by the former cruel gaze of contempt and anger, the more -intense because so icily controlled. Once more measuring her from head -to foot, he murmured, with an extraordinary bitterness of accent: - -“Are all women either fools or wantons?” - -One moment indeed she swayed as if she would have fallen; but instantly -she recovered herself, and, with a movement, full of pride and dignity, -stooped to gather the folds of her heavy train into her hands and fling -them across those shoulders and arms she had so innocently left bare to -walk in beauty before him. That the man she loved could have looked, -could have spoken such insult, oh, no hand could ever draw the blade -from out her heart! There would it remain and rust till she died. Her -cheeks—nothing but death indeed would ever cool them again, she thought. -And no waters, no snow, no fire would cleanse her white garments from -the mud he had just cast at them. - -She turned upon him, her arms folded under the swathes of satin. - -They were no longer master of the place and voluntary servant; no longer -rich lord of the land and recipient of his bounty; no longer the -protector and the protected—no longer even the secretly beloved and the -loving—they were man and woman upon the equality in which Nature had -placed them in their young life. Man and woman, alone in the night, -under the great open sky, the wide star-pointed heaven, high-uplifted -above the land, far apart from any living creature, unrestrained by any -convention, any extraneous touch; face to face, so utterly man and woman -alone on this high peak of passion, that it almost seemed as if their -bodily envelope must fall away also and leave naked soul to naked soul. -And yet, such lonely things has God made us in spirit, He who -nevertheless said: “It is not good for man to be alone,” that when two -souls meet in conflict and there is no tender hand touch, no meeting of -lip to lip to draw the two together without words (we are always so -betrayed by the treachery of word!) the difference in each soul is so -essential that it seems as if nothing could ever bring them into union -again. And there are battles in life which the soul traverses as utterly -single as that final battle of all which each one of us is doomed to -fight alone. - -“David!” cried Ellinor, “explain!” - -It was a command, enforced by eye and tone. So had Ellinor never looked -before upon David; so had her voice never rung in his ear. - -“Explain!” he echoed. “Of what value can the opinions of this poor fool -among men, this recluse, this dreamer be to you, what consequences can -you attach to them? Go back to the gay circle to which your nature -belongs! There is your centre. Have I not seen it this month? Did I not -see it to-day—to-night? What have we really in common, you and I?” - -A glimmer of comprehension began to dawn upon Ellinor’s mind. But, -sweetly stirring as it might have been at another moment to know David -jealous, his mistrust came too closely upon his offence to avail. It was -but added fuel to her wrath. - -“How unjust!” she cried. “How ungenerous, how untrue!” - -His haggard eye rested upon her with a sudden doubt of himself. Yet it -was but as the pause before the widening rent in the breach—the pressure -of the pent-up feelings on their unnatural height was too much now for -the already weakened defences. The torrents were loose! He began, in -hoarse, rapid, whispering voice: - -“Oh, how you must laugh—you women that make us dance like puppets as you -hold the strings!” - -Then, suddenly, as with a crash and almost a cry, came the first leap of -the flood. - -“Why do you seek me? Could you not be content to have brought into my -peace—God knows how hardly won!—this disturbance, this trouble, this -disillusion? Have you not shown me once again that no woman, however -kind, can be true; however fair but must be false; however -straight-limbed, but must be tortuous of mind; however sweet to draw a -man to her but must be black at heart! Is not that enough? I had gone -back to my stars, back to all they mean to me; they had called me from -among that ignoble crew where you—oh, incredible! seem to have found -yourself so well! I had gone back to them, to their serenity, to their -high communion.... Why did you call me down? Take your false troubling -beauty from this my own peace ground!” - -“But David! But, dear cousin, what insanity is this?” - -“No,” he cried, with outflung hands beating back the sudden tender -relaxation in her voice, the loosening movement of her folded arms under -their mantle. “No,” he repeated loudly and harshly. “Once deceived where -I most loved! Again deceived where I most trusted! Deceived again where -nature, common blood, and family honour, should have most bound to -faithfulness—it is enough! I have done with life. I will never again -risk my hard-won peace of mind—life’s most precious possession—upon the -frail stake of another’s loyalty. I have no friend, I have no sister. -Ellinor, I will love no woman!” - -His loud voice suddenly sank; and towards the last sentences, with a -falling of her high spirit of anger, she saw him resume the old -unnatural look, the old passionless tone of detachment and renunciation. -The phrase with which he concluded rang in her ears more like a knell of -all her secret hopes than the conventional offence. - -“Oh,” said she, and the clear sweet note was shot through with a tremor -of pain, “neither friend nor kin nor love? It is a hard sentence, David! -Is it not as bad to mistrust truth as to break troth?” - -But though her words were gentle she felt herself more aloof as she -spoke than at any moment of their interview. Their two souls were -drawing away from each other in the storm as the same wind and the same -waves may part consorting vessels. - -She moved, as to leave him, when he arrested her. - -“You know the story of my life,” said he. “Stay, Ellinor, the night is -mild.” - -He put out his hand; but hesitated, and did not touch her. The frenzy of -passion had left him, with that sudden change of mood that marks the -fevered brain. She sat down on the parapet without a word. The night was -mild, as he had said; yet, even under her improvised mantle she was -cold—cold to the soul. - -Now he had sealed the vial of her love. And, unless his hand knew the -cunning of it and could break it open again, sealed it must remain till -death. Had he but looked upon her first as now, but spoken as now, how -different she might have made it! But even with his eyes upon her once -more kind, and his voice in her ear once more gentle; with his hand -trembling upon the stone of the bench, but a tiny span from hers; with -the atmosphere of his presence enfolding her, she felt that they were -still drifting apart further and further across the waste of waters. - -“What have I said to you to-night?” he asked, and drew his hand across -his brow. “Forgive me, you have always been very good to me. I owe you a -great deal.” - -She smiled with a welling bitterness. - -“If you speak of owing,” she said, “I owe you the very bread I eat.” -“And never felt it till to-night,” she added in her heart, but could not -speak those words aloud because, in spite of everything, she loved him -with that woman’s love that is kept tender by the mother instinct.—She -could not hurt him who had hurt her so much. - -His troubled gaze on her widened and then became abstracted. - -“I have become a creature of the night,” said he, almost as if to -himself. “For, by the light of day I cast such shadows as I go, that -nothing, I think, could prosper near me. Always I have paid such toll -for every good that it had been better I had never known it. The old -curse is still upon me. Even for the comfort of your smile, Ellinor, I -have had to pay.” - -She drew a breath as if she would speak, but closed her lips proudly -again. She could not plead for his happiness, for now that meant -pleading for herself. - -“Let me tell you,” said he once more, “what life has done to me.” - -“I am listening,” she replied coldly, after a pause. - -“Thank you—you are always patient with me. It is the last time that I -shall ever bring a human being into my confidence, but I think you have -a right to know, Ellinor, why I have been so moved to-day; to know how -it is that events have once more shown me my own unfitness to mix with -my fellow-creatures.” - -He paused a second, then went on, resentment once more threatening in -his voice like distant thunder. - -“I cannot do with the meanness, the small duplicities, the little -treacheries. Oh, God, duplicity is never small, and to me there is no -little treachery. Ellinor, let but the tiniest rift be sprung in the -crystal, and its note can never ring pure again. Oh, Ellinor, had you -forgotten that?” - -He stared at her with a new passion of reproach. But she sat, -marble-still, with downcast lids: a cold white thing in the moonlight. -And that passion of his that might just then have broken into -tenderness, like a wave upon a gentle beach, recoiled upon itself as it -met the barrier of her high hard pride. - -He rose, thrust his nervous hands through his hair, pulling the heavy -locks back from his brow. Then he began to speak very rapidly; sometimes -turning towards her, as if his emotion must find an object; sometimes in -lower tones, as if communing with himself; sometimes again throwing his -words, as it were, into space. And thus he made his indictment against -the mysterious powers that had ruled his fate. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - SHADOWS OF THE HEART OF YOUTH - - Be mine a philosopher’s life in the quiet woodland ways, - Where, if I cannot be gay, let a passionless peace be my lot. - Far off from the clamour of liars, ... - And most of all would I flee from the cruel madness of love, - The poison of honey-flowers, and all the measureless ills! - —TENNYSON (_Maud_). - - -The moon, fulfilling its lower summer circuit, had moved already a -considerable span upon the wondrous measure that, to the watcher, seems -imperceptibly slow, and yet, like the passing of the hour, asserts -itself with such irrevocable swiftness. The night had deepened from pale -sapphire to dark amethyst. Below, all around, the great woods at Bindon, -silver-crested southwards, whispered; and the light airs that stirred -them gathered sweets from the rose-gardens and spices from the Herbary -before reaching the two on their tower. These airs, Ellinor thought, -must pass on their way again, heavy with the sighs of her heart! - -“On such a night,” what might not have been this meeting! With life all -before them yet, what perversity was it to spend this silvery hour in -the story of old and ugly wrongs; when God had made a heaven so fair, an -earth so scented and a woman’s heart so true, to see all with distorted -vision and consort with the remembrance of injury until the voice of no -better comrade could make itself heard! - -He told her with how high a heart he had set forth on life; and indeed -she well remembered his gallant figure in the pride of youth, his lofty -idealism and his fine intolerant scorn. She remembered, too, the witty -mocking countenance, the cold green eye, the dark, auburn head of the -Master of Lochore.—Lochore! Ellinor had instinctively dreaded and hated -him. But with David he had taken the lead in everything; the relentless -strength of the elder man’s nature had transformed him into a kind of -hero for the younger, at a time when student-brains are peopled with -ideals of the highest pitch in all things, be it love or sport, war or -friendship. David’s reflective temperament was fascinated by a spirit of -essential joyousness and fierceness.—In but a few words David touched on -his past romantic affection for this Cosmo Lochore. It was with a sneer, -as if the ghost of his own green youth had risen up before him and he -could have withered it for his contemptible folly. - -“Then,” he went on, “came the long-promised month on the moors, at the -edge of the Lochore Forest. Cosmo, in his kilt, at early dawn ... to see -his crest of hair and his eagle feather flame in the first shaft of -light! I don’t suppose that any feelings can ever be quite so pure, so -strong, so ideal, as this sort of boy adoration for the man. Ideal!” -repeated David, and struck with his buckled shoe against a fernlet that -had found a home for itself between two stones of the tower flooring and -cast a little shadow in the moonlight. - -Ellinor saw how he set his foot upon it, and thought the action -symbolic. - -“Ideal!” cried he, gibing at himself. “That is my curse, you see, that I -cannot even now, accept life as it is! Fie! How ugly is all reality to -me! What is in the doom of corruption that we carry in the flesh -compared to the doom of corruption in the spirit? No! Rather this stone -at my feet and the stars above my head!” He lifted, as he spoke, his -face towards the sky; but it caught now no reflection of serenity, only -light upon its own trouble. “I was an idealiser in friendship—how much -more when it came to love!” - -Impassively as she held herself, she could not control a slight start, a -quick look at him. He was gazing beyond her, as if out there, in the -night, the phantom of his first lost love had arisen before him. And -when he went on speaking after a pause, it was as if he were addressing -not Ellinor, but her—the Unknown—who had brought short joy and lasting -sorrow into his life. Oh! Ellinor had been a fool not to have known how -deep it had gone with him, since, after all these long years his every -word, every action, bore witness to it! And yet, as she now looked at -his face, she told herself she had not known it. - - -“A little creature—a kind of sprite, as light as a little brown bird, as -lissom, as hardy as a heather blossom!” - -Thus, from the unknown past, Ellinor’s rival rose before her: to be -light, to be little, to be swift and lissom and brown—that was the way -into his heart!... In every inch of her own splendid frame the listening -woman felt great and massive, marble-white and still. - -He paused. His mind was miles and years away. She caught her breath with -a sigh that sounded so loud in her own ears that she tried to cover it -with a laugh. Quickly the man wheeled round upon her. - -“There is humour in my tale, is there not?” cried he, and his look and -tone cut like the lash of a whip. “But give me your patience—the cream -of the humour has yet to come!” - -“Oh, David,” cried she in anger. “If I am not light of body, neither am -I light of mind!” - -If one like Colonel Harcourt, who understood the ways of women, had -heard this cry, how knowing would have been his smile! What could David -see of the heart laid bare? He looked upon her face and marked it -scornful. The anger in her voice had struck him, but the wail of it had -passed him by. - -“Do I accuse you women?” he exclaimed. “Why should I! Have you not been -made to match us men? The night that Lochore and I lost our way upon the -moor and found refuge under the roof where she dwelt was the beginning -of my instruction in life! Ah, God! The old story—I fell in love as I -had fallen in friendship. It had been sweet to me to look up and feel -myself protected by one like Lochore, stronger and better, as I thought, -than myself. I thought it was ineffably sweet to find something so much -weaker, so much smaller than I; something I could protect, something -that looked up to me; brown eyes that seemed as true as they were -deep—and scarlet lips that could kiss with such innocently ardent -kisses....” - -A fresh wave of anger swept through Ellinor’s veins. There came to her -an almost overpowering impulse to spring to her feet, throw away her -cloak and stand forth in her scorn, in her pride of life, in her -wholesome humanity. Those unknown lips, those scarlet lips ... disowned -now as they were, had still power to sting her. But she sat immovable, -and let jealousy and love work their torture. - -“You must think me mad,” cried David, with another abrupt change, “to -inflict the old story upon you, the trite old story all the world knows. -You know, Ellinor, you know.” He now addressed her with a personal, -almost violent, directness. The matter seemed once more to lie between -him and her alone. “I loved her, and she said she loved me. I was to -make her my wife—my wife! Lochore mocked first, then stormed. We had our -first quarrel; he swore he would prevent this madness. I was strong -against him with a new strength—the strength of love against -friendship.... Friendship! I forgave him, because I thought I must -forgive such friendship! I left her. She wrote tender letters. I was to -claim her in a few weeks. Suddenly I got a longing for her that could -not be denied: a poet’s longing—the poet that lies in the heart of every -lad of twenty! And then, do you need to be told how there was murder -done upon that poet, murder upon the dreamer! upon his trust and his -faith, upon his every hold on life? Had it been but on his wretched -flesh! But that they let live!” - -He now bent over her, a bitter laugh upon his lips. - -“There was a certain walk, Ellinor, sacred to our love. All those weeks -I had dreamed of it, of the primrose sky and the meeting of our lips—in -my ideal way!” He laughed aloud. “I ran to it straight. I had not gone -two steps when I heard there on that consecrated spot, a laugh. The -sound of her laughter so much more joyous than ever she had laughed for -me—the sound of her voice, high and bright. And mingling with it, in -familiar jests and tenderness the sound of a man’s voice——” He stopped, -and fixed her; then, once more drawing back, laughed again: “I had -thought it was consecrated ground, you see!” - -His ironic fury, as yet contained, was so intently pointed at herself -that it could not but be revealing. The reproach of betrayal, then, was -not to the little brown thing of the moor, but to her—to the great white -woman! - -Could it be possible? What insanity! And yet what sweetness! He had -known, then, of that infraction in their own Herb-Garden this morning! -Jealousy! There is no jealousy without love ... oh, then, she could -forgive him all! - -She rose, drawing a deep, joyous breath, and answered the indictment as -she had taken it to herself. - -“And what of it, David?” said she. Trembling upon her lips was almost -that surrender which it is a woman’s pride never to offer. “What of it?” -And she would have added—“A woman cannot always be guardian of the outer -world, however consecrated she may hold certain gardens. But so long as -her heart remains inviolate, so long as that remains consecrate, what -does anything else matter?” But he had quickly caught up her spoken word -with a fresh outburst of frenzy. - -“What of it?” he echoed. “You may well ask the question. Is it not a -thing that happens every day? You are right, the man who would live in -the world must close his ears to what is not meant for them; as he must -shut his eyes, no matter how flagrant the treachery, that is spread out -before him. And then, no doubt, he may find the world a vastly pleasant -place. That is the proper doctrine. Oh, and ’tis the natural one, for we -are all made cowards? I myself, when I heard, I ran from the sound. I -threw myself upon the moor that evening. I thrust my fingers into my -ears. I reasoned with myself against what I knew was the truth—that is -what people call reason. And I said what you have said: What of it!” - -There was a moment’s silence. Then his voice rang out once more: - -“But I could not!” He struck his breast. “I could not. There is -something here even now in this dead heart of mine that must live in me -as long as the spirit is in me. The truth, the truth! I cannot lie to -myself, I cannot believe in another’s lies—I had heard, I must see. I -rose from the ground, it was drenched with dew. It was night. Something -led me, angel or demon. There was fire-light leaping up against the -window. I looked in—I saw. Oh, you woman, turn away your false, -compassionate eyes, for one thing I have sworn that I will never look on -a woman’s treachery again!” - -“David,” cried Ellinor again, “remember that I am of your blood!” - -“Aye, of my blood. The mockery of fate is complete: betrayed by -friendship, betrayed by love, betrayed by my own blood——!” - -“David!” - -“Yes—Maud, my sister, that is my own blood, is it not? Maud laughed, oh, -she laughed! She came and sat by the side of my bed, the wound that -Lochore’s bullet had made was yet green in my lung—for the memory of our -old friendship he could not even do me the mercy to shoot straight—and -she, my own sister ... my blood! She was to marry the man whose hand was -red and whose soul was black, the man who had openly flaunted about -Town, as the latest Corinthian, the girl that was to have been his -friend’s bride, and boasted that he had done me what he called the best -service one man could do another. ‘Why, fool, you owe him eternal -gratitude,’ said Maud. It was a huge joke!” - -Terrified, Ellinor stood looking at him. If her pride had allowed her to -reason with him earlier, perhaps it might have availed. Now she felt -that any words of hers would be worse than useless. As well try to -reason away ague or delirium. - -“My friend, my love, my kin, you see!” he cried. “History repeats -itself. You, you,” he came close to her with a frenzied gesture as if to -overwhelm her with reproach, “you, my kin, you who came into my solitude -as my friend, you whom some blind madness has kept whispering to me was -to be my love, you would combine in your single person the three -traitors that stabbed my youth!” - -She never knew if she had screamed, or if it was only the cry of her -heart that suddenly rang in her ears. But she seized and clung to his -descending hand as it would have waved her from him for ever. - -“Ah, no, David, no!” she repeated, the denegation in a voice as frenzied -as his own. And suddenly her ice of pride melted and the tears came -streaming from her eyes. At the sight the man seemed to come back in -some way to his senses. The cold hand she held became more human warm. - -“Tears?” he said in an altered voice. “Have I caused you tears? Ah, -don’t cry, Ellinor! I must not blame you; it is only that the world is -not made for me, nor I for the world. Forgive me and forget. You are -what you are. I am what I am.” He drew his hand from hers, turned his -glance away. “To-night, as you sat, so resplendent, so pleased with the -flattery and the admiration of these ... these creatures; so decked out, -so different, the scales fell away from my eyes. I saw the new course of -self-deception I had entered upon; and it was very bitter. I have had no -sleep this month. The past has been brought back upon me. I knew that it -would be so—and dreaded it. Forgive me, Ellinor!” - -He took her hand and led her, as he spoke, back into the observatory and -towards the stairs. She felt she was being dismissed from her high place -in his life. - -When they reached the tower stair he said again: “Forgive me, forget.” - -And as he spoke he dropped her hand. And she ran from him into the -shelter of the darkness. - - -She wept through the night. But, heavy as was the darkness about her -soul, in it shone one star at least. Jealous! He was jealous ... and -without love there is no jealousy. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - THE HERB EUPHROSINE - - Had’st thou but shook thy head or made a pause - When I spake darkly ... - Or turned an eye of doubt upon my face - As bid me tell my tale in express words.... - —SHAKESPEARE (_King John_). - - -Before her mirror the next morning Lady Lochore sat wrapt in sullen -thoughts, thoughts of impotent anger, of failure, punctuated now and -again by glances at her own ravaged countenance. - -She had dwelt in Bindon well-nigh her allotted month, and she had -accomplished nothing—unless an increase of David’s eccentricity and a -marked accentuation of his antipathy towards herself could be reckoned a -gain! The sands were running low. But it was not the span of the time -that remained hers at Bindon (for she had no intention of leaving of her -own accord and hardly believed the dreamer would find the energy to -expel her, if, indeed, he were even aware of the consummation of -time)—it was the span of her own life. - -The sands were running very low. Meanwhile she had not conciliated -David, nor had she ousted Ellinor. She had not even compromised her. -Herrick was sighing _pour le bon motif_ (young fool!) and in vain. -Harcourt _roué_ and duellist, “he who ought to have rid me,” thought -she, raging, “of one or the other in a week,” had made no more progress -than might old Villars himself. “Lochore did his business better!” she -said half-aloud, and broke into a solitary laugh of inexpressible -bitterness. - -There came a tap at the door and Margery entered. Lady Lochore wheeled -round, but it was idle to try and read any tidings upon the -housekeeper’s impassive face. - -“Well,” cried she, imperiously waving away the usual morning inquiries. -“Well, speak, woman! Have you something to tell me at last?” - -“Indeed, my lady, very little. Everything is much as usual. I am sorry -to see your ladyship looking so ill. There do seem to be sickness about -the house this morning, to be sure! Master Rickart indeed took to -drugging himself last night—though that’s nothing new—and Barnaby sat up -with him and lies in a dead sleep on the mat this minute outside the -laboratory door just like a dog.” - -“Pshaw! Go on.” - -“Sir David, he was not himself yesterday, so Mr. Giles tells me; and a -bad night he had too. Eh! He paced that platform, my lady, right through -from midnight to dawn. Not a wink of sleep did I have either with -hearing through the window the sound of his steps and knowing him so -tormented, poor gentleman! That was after Mrs. Marvel had left him!” - -Lady Lochore struck the table with her beringed hand and started to her -feet. - -“Mrs. Marvel!” - -Margery began to pleat a corner of her apron. - -“Yes, my lady. She was up with him there on the tower till nigh -midnight.” - -“On the tower!” - -“Oh, yes, my lady. Not that that’s anything new either. She used to be -half the night with him sometimes. But that was before your ladyship -came. She stopped going this last month. But last night—eh, my lady, -they did talk! I could hear the sound of their voices—she has great -power with Sir David—has Mrs. Marvel.” - -Lady Lochore sat down again. Her fingers closed on the muslin of the -dressing-table. Helplessly and hopelessly her haggard eyes looked forth -into a black prospective. Oh, she had failed—failed! - -“’Tis indeed a sad day for Bindon,” said Margery after a pause, as if in -answer to Lady Lochore. “No wonder your ladyship is anxious. There are -times when I do think we’ll have some dreadful catastrophe here. If it’s -nothing worse there’ll be an accident with them drugs, as sure as fate. -Master Rickart will be poisoning some of the poor folk again, or -himself, maybe, or, indeed, it might be Mrs. Marvel, she that’s always -in with him.” - -Lady Lochore started ever so slightly and turned round sharply. Never -had Margery looked more benevolent, more virtuous. - -“Yes, that’s what I do be saying to myself,” pursued the housekeeper. -“Somebody will be found dead, and nobody to fix the blame on, with the -way things are going on.” (The pupils of Lady Lochore’s eyes narrowed -like a hawk’s.) “And when I see Mrs. Marvel going about, so young and -fresh and strong, and sure of herself:—‘Maybe it will be you,’ thinks -I.” - -“Oh, get away with you!” cried Lady Lochore, and buried her head on her -hands with a frenzied gesture. - - -“Shall we go and look through the bars into the little paradise of -poisons?” - -When Colonel Harcourt had suddenly made this suggestion to his friends, -as they lay, in somewhat discontented mood, under the shade of the -spreading cedar tree this oppressive summer day, he had cast a meaning -glance towards Lady Lochore and she had risen with alacrity. - -“Excellent!” she cried, when at the forbidden gate Harcourt produced the -key with a flourish. - -She knew of David’s difference with the colonel on the previous day; and -though it had sunk into insignificance before the news of Ellinor’s -return to the tower, she was now as the drowning creature that clutches -at straws-Colonel Harcourt was a noted shot. And she clapped her hands -when the gate rolled back on its hinges. She had no need to be told that -the dangerous Mrs. Marvel was busy among the herbs within. - -Herrick, moodily striding beside the Dishonourable Caroline, gave but -the most perfunctory ear to a discourse upon the inductions to be drawn -from a partner’s first play of trumps—with especial reference to certain -crimes of his own committed the previous night. He started as he saw -Harcourt’s action. - -“No—no!” he exclaimed. “I understand that this would be an -indiscretion.” - -“You will perhaps allow me,” said Harcourt blandly, “to make use of a -key delivered over by no less a person than our host himself.” - -“Mr. Herrick thinks it more discreet to climb over the wall!” suggested -Priscilla. She had a happy faculty for being spiteful with a rosebud -look of innocence. - -“What, Luke!” cried Lady Lochore, seizing the young man by the arm and -dragging him towards the entrance, “so cast down! Was the fair widow -then hard of approach to-day? Pluck up heart, lad. What! You a poet, you -a little nephew of the original Herrick, and not know that when a woman -assumes the defensive she is just considering the question of surrender? -Why, what a lady this is! Eh, Priscilla, poor you and poor me must hide -our diminished heads!” - -She broke into a jeering laugh as the girl crimsoned and tossed her -chin; her great hollow eyes danced, brighter even that those of the -lover in his renewed confidence; her cheeks flamed a deeper scarlet than -those of the mortified girl herself. She sketched a favorite gavotte -step or two, as she gave her hand with a flourish to Colonel Harcourt -that he might lead her across the forbidden threshold. - -Ellinor, seated on the stone bench, with her empty basket before her, -staring with unseeing eyes at the little bluish stars that spread all -over the bed where flourished the herb Euphrosine, was suddenly -disturbed from her melancholy musing. - -These loud voices, this trivial laughter! By what freak of irresponsible -folly were these few roods of ground (which now she had as much interest -to keep inviolate, as ever Vestal virgin to keep her flame alive) to be -again invaded? The intruders were actually in the garden: and no spot of -it was hidden from David’s tower! She had just been chiding herself for -her thoughtlessness of the previous day in permitting for a moment -Herrick’s uninvited presence; for her light-mindedness in having found -transient amusement in his company. Had she now failed again in -faithfulness, was it possible that she could have omitted to lock the -gate behind her? She hurriedly felt for her key; it hung on the ribbon -of her apron. Then she rose upon an impulse: David had made her guardian -here, she would keep the trust. - -With head held high and with determined step, she went to meet them. She -lifted her voice boldly as she came within speaking distance. - -“Lady Lochore, if you found the gate open, this garden is none the less -forbidden to visitors, by your brother’s wish. I must beg you all to -leave it!” - -Lady Lochore, her white teeth gleaming between her parted lips, her deep -eyes insolently fixed upon her cousin’s face, listened without a word. -Then: - -“_Calmez-vous, ma chère_,” said she, “the gate was opened for us.” - -“Chide me!” Colonel Harcourt thrust his handsome presence to the front. -“It would be sweet to be chidden by those rosy lips. The next best -thing, I declare, to being——” He paused, let his eye finish the phrase -with bold suggestion, and then concluded humourously, with an almost -farcical hesitation and change of tone: “praised by them!” - -There was a new freedom in his manner and Ellinor was prompt to feel it. -She remembered as with a dim sense of nightmare those burning glances, -unnoticed then, which had fixed her last night. What had she done to -forfeit the respect even of this hitherto courteous and kindly -gentleman? She stepped back as he approached and looked at him icily. - -“Whether you opened the gate or found it opened, I must repeat, Colonel -Harcourt, that your presence here is a breach of courtesy—to your host -and to me.” - -Smiling, Colonel Harcourt opened his mouth to speak. But Lady Lochore -intervened. - -“How well you know my brother’s mind, Mrs. Marvel!” she jeered. “But you -see, even men change their minds sometimes. Colonel Harcourt, show the -lady with whose key you opened the gate.” - -“Sir David’s own key,” confirmed the colonel blandly, as he held it -aloft. “We are not quite the trespassers you think.” - -“David gave it to you?” Her eyes were dark with trouble as she said the -words, less as a question than as if she were setting forth her own -grief. Harcourt did not answer for a moment. Then, slipping the key into -his pocket with a laugh: - -“Gave?” he cried. “Gave is hardly the word. He abandoned it to me. -People change their minds, as my lady says. Sir David may once have -wished to keep this curious spot sacred to himself——” - -“And to Mistress Marvel, but now you may all eat the forbidden fruit!” -cried Lady Lochore, with a glance first at the three men and then at -Ellinor. “Sir David has at last found that it is not worth keeping to -himself.” - -Herrick, quick to perceive that Ellinor was being baited yet unable to -gather the clue to the purpose which seemed to underlie her tormentor’s -words, now came forward. - -“But surely,” he urged, blushing ingenuously, “it is enough for us if -Mrs. Marvel does not wish our presence.” - -Almost before Lady Lochore’s hard laugh had time to ring out, Ellinor -answered: - -“Oh, no,” she said. The exceeding bitterness of her humiliation drew -down the lips that tried to smile. “Pray, what can it be to me? I was -only guardian. I am relieved of my trust.” - -She made a sort of little curtsey, half-ironic. And then moved away from -them. - -But she was not destined to carry her bursting heart to solitude this -morning.—Master Simon, his white hair fluttering, the tassel of his -velvet cap swinging, the skirts of his dressing-gown flapping as he -advanced with a high jerky step quite unlike his usual slow shuffling -gait, emerged from the shade of the yew-tree, even as she stood on the -threshold of the gate. - -One glance at his wildly-lighted eye and the flush on his cheek bones, -sufficed to convince Ellinor of the cause of this extraordinary -infraction of his rule of life. He was still under the influence of the -last night’s drug; or, worse still perhaps, of some new one. He waved -his arm at her and at the group beyond. - -“Admit me among you, ladies!” he cried, in a high thin tone. “I will -tell you all great news! Daughter, child, this hour strikes a new era in -the world’s history! The herb Euphrosine has given me back my youth!” - -And, to complete the fantastic scene, Belphegor, every hair bristling, -tail erect, eyes aflame with green phosphorescence, sprang from the -bushes and performed a wild saraband around his master, uttering uncouth -little cries. - -Master Simon broke into shrill laughter. - -“Ask Belphegor if we have not found the secret of youth restored!” - - - - - CHAPTER IX - AN OMINOUS JINGLE - - Within the infant rind of this weak flower - Poison hath residence, and medicine power. - —SHAKESPEARE (_Romeo and Juliet_). - - -The old man good-humouredly, but firmly, resisted his daughter’s anxious -endeavours to lead him back to his room. He entered the garden, -established himself on the bench, and, waving a branch of the beloved -herb to emphasise his words, embarked upon a profuse discourse upon its -properties. The others gathered round him in curiosity and amusement. - -Ellinor could not leave him a prey to the freakish humours of the -company at such a moment. His brain seemed to work with an extraordinary -clarity and vigour, his worn frame seemed to have regained an energy and -elasticity it could not have known these twenty years. And the contrast -between his aspect of æthereal age and the youthful exuberance of joy -now written on his features struck her as alarming in the extreme. - -Her anxiety was not lessened when Master Simon now wound up his first -oration by proclaiming that, after various long hours of work, he had at -last extracted so pure an essence of the _Euphrosine_ that one drop had -sufficed to produce this result upon himself. - -“Then, surely, father,” she cried, “you have prepared a dangerous drug! -Out of its beneficence you must have drawn a deadly poison——” - -Lady Lochore had seated herself on the bench on the other side of the -old student. She evinced a great interest in his remarks; encouraged him -by exclamation, laughter and question to further garrulity. At Ellinor’s -words she lifted her head with a sudden quick movement, like that of a -stag on the alert. And into her eyes flashed a look so eager, and so -evil, that she herself, in consciousness of it, instantly dropped the -lids over them. She felt Harcourt’s glance upon her. - -“Poison,” said she, feigning to yawn. “Oh, fie! then I’ll have none of -your remedy.” - -Priscilla, idly turning the pages of the “Gerard” which Ellinor had left -out of her hand on the sundial, stood silent, shooting glances by turns -at Harcourt and Herrick. The former, standing with folded arms behind -Ellinor, the latter, lying stretched on the hot soil at her feet, seemed -too thoroughly content with their posts to be lured from them. But at -Ellinor’s exclamation, the little circle had been stirred. - -“Poison?” echoed Master Simon in his turn. “Tush! Ellinor, I am ashamed -of you! By this time you should know better. Is not every medicine, nay, -every distilled spirit, poison in certain degrees? And how about Opium? -How about Digitalis, Aconite and Laurel, Mercury and Antimony? Pooh! -What need of names?” - -“Even in love a poison lies!” murmured Herrick, and looked up -languishingly at Ellinor’s unseeing face. - -“No doubt,” said Harcourt, in a most indifferent voice, “so wise a -philosopher as Master Simon always locks up his poisons!” - -“Child,” pursued the old man, “I tell you, this herb which was lost to -the world, but which you yourself found again, planted and nurtured, is -destined to be the greatest boon mankind has yet known! The older -students had some hints of its powers, some glimmering of its uses. But -it wanted the resources of modern methods of modern chemistry to develop -them. I have now reduced its essence to the most convenient form. A -drop, one drop a day—ah, ladies and gentlemen, farewell to all your -miseries!” - -“Is it not wonderful!” cried Lady Lochore. She clasped her hands and -looked keenly at the old man; and he, anxious to improve the occasion -upon so earnest a believer and so interesting a case for experiment, now -gave her his undivided attention. - -Ellinor, with a sigh of impatience, rose, and, taking up her basket, -proceeded to her neglected work of plant gathering, here and there -consulting a pencilled list that was pinned to the handle. Herrick was -promptly at her side. - -“What are you going to make of those?” he asked, plucking in his turn a -leaf from every plant that her scissors had visited. - -“A febrifuge for an old woman in the village. It is promised for -to-night.” - - -“And if I do—I have half a mind to come into your den and let you give -it to me yourself—what effect could one drop have on me?” Lady Lochore -was saying. And the old man answered: - -“It would arrest the disease that is ravaging your strength and at the -same time stimulate your nerves; so that, waste ceasing, all the -energies of your body would unite in building up strength and health -again.” - -“How truly delightful!” - -“Your restlessness would vanish. This morbid mental condition, which is -so apparent, would become replaced by a calm, cheerful, contented frame -of mind—like mine!” - -“My dear Sir! How my friends would bless you!” - -“In the course of a few months——” - -“Months? La! I can’t wait months. I’ll have five drops a day.” - -“God forbid! That would defeat its own end. To stimulate is one thing, -but to over-excite——” - -“Would five drops over-excite me?” - -“Indubitably. If one has already so potently invigorating an effect, -five drops would produce a most undesirable condition of mental -super-excitement—most undesirable!” - -“Then ten drops?” - -“Colonel Harcourt,” cried Priscilla pettishly, “pray come to my rescue: -there’s a wasp on my book!” - -The colonel obeyed the summons, but without any extraordinary alacrity; -Lady Lochore’s conversation with Master Simon was unexpectedly -interesting. - -“Ten drops?” Master Simon was explaining. “Madness probably. More than -ten, paralysis, no doubt. Twenty? Oh, twenty would be stillness for -evermore—Death!” - -Having duly murdered the wasp, Colonel Harcourt was chagrined to find -that the new student of pharmacopœia seemed to have already had enough -of her lesson. She had risen to her feet and was standing deeply -reflective. Her great eyes were roaming from side to side, yet unseeing. -Her lips were moving noiselessly. He went up to her. An unusual gravity -was upon his smooth countenance. He bent to her ear: - -“What are you saying to yourself?” he whispered. - -She started, flashed round half in anger, half in mockery; then their -glances met and her face grew hard. - -“I was merely conning over to myself,” answered she, “our dear old -necromancer’s last pregnant utterance; it sounds like a popular rhyme: - - One drop gladness, - Ten drops madness, - Twice ten a living death - After that no more breath. - -Have I not put it into a useful jingle for you?” she cried, -interpellating the old man. - -But Master Simon, deeply absorbed in watching Belphegor, as the beast -stretched and yawned and rolled restlessly in the sun, never turned his -head. Colonel Harcourt laid a finger on her wrist, and drew her away -from the others. - -“What are you planning now?” he asked, in the same repressed undertone -as before. - -“Planning?” she echoed, and crossed his searching gaze with one of -stormy defiance. “Oh, my dear confidant, do you not know all my inmost -secrets? _Dieu_, how you stare! Two drops gladness, ten drops madness. -Let me give you some of the stimulant—say three drops—’twould stir your -sluggish wits. Do, I pray you, accompany me to the laboratory, and with -these fair hands I will measure you a dose from the magic phial. Oh, how -Master Simon will love me if I bring him a new patient! Believe me, it -will do you a vast service, my dear sir, you have grown dull and slow of -late—very slow.” - -Out of her laughing face her eyes looked fiercely. He walked away from -her; paused, with his back upon them all, to ponder. Then he frowned, -and after that shrugged his shoulders. - -“What a fool you are, Antony Harcourt,” said he to himself, “to have let -yourself be mixed up with this woman’s business! I vow you’ll pack!” - -Lady Lochore had returned to the bench and was again sitting beside -Master Simon, and once more brooding. Tragedy was writ in large letters -all over her wasted, death-stricken figure. Above all things the colonel -hated tragedy. Violent emotions were so ill-bred, tiresome. What could -not be accomplished with a gentlemanly ease, that, by the Lord, was not -for him! A love intrigue, well and good. And if there were tears at the -end of it, so long as they were not shed upon his waistcoat—and none -knew better how to avoid that—here was your man. But when it came to—“By -Gad!” thought Colonel Harcourt, with fresh emphasis, “the place is -getting too hot for me.” - -And back again he came to his resolution; this time fixed. - -“I will take my leave of all this to-night. But, faith! I’ll part -friends with the pretty widow.” - - -After her spasmodic fashion Lady Lochore now suddenly resumed her wild -humours. She smiled as she saw how the two cavaliers were now again in -close attendance upon Ellinor; smiled at the deserted Priscilla; and -finally, at the sight of two figures approaching from the direction of -the entrance, broke into open laughter. - -David in the strange comradeship of Villars! - -David, jealous and wrathful, coming to rescue his invaded garden, -suspicious of Ellinor’s faithlessness—a possible quarrel! For the mere -mischief of it, it was enough to make Lady Lochore laugh. And laugh she -did. - - - - - CHAPTER X - A VAGUE DESPERATE SCHEME - - Now let it work: mischief thou art afoot! - Take thou what course thou wilt. - —SHAKESPEARE (_Julius Cæsar_). - - -“Ah, David,” cried Master Simon, in excited greeting, “you come very -well to complete our pleasant party—you come well! ’Tis the -red-letter day in the calendar of my life. See that flourishing -growth?” He waved his spray in the direction of the parent bed. “It -is bearing fruit, lad! Seed of health, for the future generation! My -long life has borne its fruit at last! Euphrosine ... Gladsome -Wort ... Etoile-de-Bon-Secours ... Star-of-Comfort indeed! Behold a -more useful constellation than any of yours, aha! I can cry -_Eureka_! I can sing _Nunc dimittis_. ’Tis the Elixir of Genius!” - -Sir David threw a wondering glance at his old friend, but was arrested -before he could speak in reply. Miss Priscilla put out her hand in shy -greeting. (Sir David and she had never exchanged but a bow before; but -it was quite evident that retiring people could not get on in this -world.) David, taking off his wide-brimmed hat, bowed mechanically over -the little hand, and Priscilla looked quickly up as he bent over her. -But as she looked, she shrunk back. She could not have believed that any -one should be so pale and yet be alive and walk abroad and smile. She -flew to Herrick’s side and caught his arm upon the impulse of the -moment. - -“Why, Miss Pris?” said the young poet. If his eyes were not lover-like, -they were kind; his cheek was ruddy-brown, his lip was red. Priscilla -clung to the sturdy arm she had captured. - -“It’s never you, my brother?” cried Lady Lochore. “What brings you among -us frivolous humans at this unwonted hour? Have you come to turn us out -of paradise with a flaming sword?” - -Ellinor, who had been anxiously gazing at David, thrust herself forward -in a manner quite unlike her usual reserve. - -“David,” she cried, “you are ill!” She laid her hand a second upon his. -“Father,” she went on, turning round appealingly, “do you not see? -Cousin David is ill.” And as Master Simon took no heed, but rambled on -in fresh rhapsodies, she and David remained a moment as if alone. - -“They had your key, David,” she said, speaking rapidly, “and forced -their way in. I have never opened the gate of our garden to a human -being since you and I were here together.” - -He turned to her, and seemed to bring, from a great distance, his mind -to bear upon her words. Then his eyes softened, became almost tender as -they rested upon her face. After a little pause, during which he was -quite oblivious of the curious looks cast from all sides upon him, he -answered in a low voice: - -“Thank you. I think I understand now.” - -Then he turned—bracing himself in mind and body—and swept the company -with the gaze of the master and the host. - -“I forgot my key in the gate, it seems, and you all took advantage of -the circumstance—Oh, pray, not a word, Colonel Harcourt! Indeed, Mr. -Herrick, do not misunderstand me. I should be infringing the most -elementary tenets of hospitality did I wish to deny such honoured guests -when it seems they had set their hearts on so trifling a pleasure. Pray -remain in the garden, pray use it as much as you wish—to-day. I have no -doubt,” he went on with a sarcastic smile, “that you will all be -heartily sick of it before nightfall. Meanwhile, since to-morrow sees -the end of your visit to my house, I am the more glad to gratify you in -this instance.” - -There was a slight pause. Harcourt exchanged a look with Herrick and -shrugged his shoulders; then he turned his glance towards Lady Lochore. -Her face was livid, but for the hectic patch on either cheek. - -“A _congé_, as neatly given as ever I heard!” whispered Herrick to -Priscilla, while his cheek reddened. - -“Very courteous, very courteous indeed!” cried Villars in his cracked -voice, making two or three quick bows in Sir David’s direction. - -“My sister,” said David, taking up his unfinished thread of speech, in -the same decided tone, “was good enough to promise me a month out of her -gay existence. I should be indeed ungrateful if I did not appreciate the -manner in which she has brought so much life and animation into our -seclusion, and I must be deeply indebted to her for the well-chosen -company she has collected for this purpose under my roof.” Here he made -a grave inclination in which his astonished guests were all included. -“But all good things come to an end; and to-morrow will see Bindon -deserted of its lively guests, see us resuming the former quiet tenor of -our lives with what heart we may.” - -He smiled again as he concluded. - -Herrick, in boyish huff, walked abruptly off with Priscilla still on his -arm. Villars followed in their wake, anxious to discuss so extraordinary -a situation. Lady Lochore wheeled round and caught Harcourt by the arm. - -“Tony, will you submit to such treatment?” she whispered fiercely. - -For a moment Harcourt looked at her, with a curious green gleam in his -eye:—the affable _roué_ was also “something of a tiger,” as David’s -sister had not forgotten. But the next instant he shrugged his shoulders -and detached himself from her grasp with some show of annoyance. Ellinor -stood beside her cousin, face uplifted, pride of him, joy for herself -exulting within her. But David suddenly put his hands to his forehead: - -“If I do not get some sleep at last,” he murmured with a distraught air, -“I shall go mad!” - -“Father,” she cried sharply once more alarmed. “Look to David, he is -ill!” - -Master Simon woke up this time like the hound to the sound of the horn, -and came forward with quite a new expression of acuteness and gravity on -his face. - -“And, by my faith!” exclaimed Lady Lochore, in fury, “this passes -endurance! With your leave, Mrs. Marvel, if David is unwell, he has his -sister to see to him.” - -She pushed past Master Simon, who, however, put her back with a decided -hand. - -“One minute, Madam, this good lad will be seen to by him who has done so -these many years—and in much graver circumstances, as you may remember.” - -Abashed, yet still raging, she stood back. - -“A trifle of fever,” said the simpler, shooting scrutiny at his -patient’s face from under his drawn bushy eyebrows. “Hot and cold, flame -and shiver? Eh, eh. I can read you like a book. Never has my insight -been clearer. We’ll make you a draught, we’ll have you a new man. -Ellinor shall brew you an anodyne. Eh, what? Come now, you’ll have to -drink it. What’s that?” - -David was speaking, but not to Master Simon. - -“I will drink it if she gives it to me,” he said dreamily. It was to -Ellinor he turned. - -“And perhaps a drop—eh, child?—just one drop of the Elixir!” continued -the old man, ruminating and chuckling again. - -“Not one,” said Ellinor to herself. “Vervaine and violet, and perhaps -one poppy head.” “David,” she pursued aloud, “no hand but mine shall mix -this cup.” - -And, with a swift foot she departed. - -“The Elixir?” exclaimed Lady Lochore, taking up Master Simon’s word; and -seizing a fold of his gown pulled at it like a spoiled child to force -his attention. “Don’t forget you have promised me first some of that -marvellous remedy. Look at me! Don’t you think I want a new lease of -life? The present one is pretty well run out anyhow.” - -She tried to smile, but her lips only twitched convulsively. There was -desperation in her eye. Master Simon, instantly bestowing upon her the -concentrated, almost loving, attention which a willing patient never -failed to arouse in him, noted these symptoms, those of a soul well nigh -as mortally sick as the body; noted them with joyous confidence. The -greater the need the greater the triumph. What a subject for the grand -panacea! - -“Ah, you’ll give me a little bottle. You’ll give me some, now, into my -hands—now—dear cousin!” - -“I will myself measure you what is required, myself watch!” replied -Simon. “Then, after I——” - -She broke in upon his complacent speech. - -“Don’t you know that we are turned out to-morrow!” she screamed. “Have -you not heard David dismissing his dying sister from her father’s door!” - -But Sir David, slowly moving in Ellinor’s wake, never even turned his -head at this wild cry. Lady Lochore caught herself back with surprising -strength of will. - -“Supposing you were to take me to your mysterious room now—old Rickart?” -she wheedled. “Since we have so little time, the sooner the better to -begin this magic treatment. I’ve never been in that room of yours, you -know, since I was a brat—I do want my little bottle!” she reiterated. - -The simpler was flattered by her words to the choicest fibre of his -soul. The mental intoxication had got hold of him once more. She was -right, a thousand times right! She knew better than that lunatic brother -of hers. The first maxim of all intelligent existence was to take the -good that came, and without delay. Delay, delay! More lives lost, more -discoveries lost, empires lost, souls lost by hesitation than by any -other crime. - -She hooked her arm in his gaily. - -“To your cavern we will go!” - - -Half ways towards the house, Colonel Harcourt suddenly drew alongside -with Sir David. They were separated from the rest of the company by the -turn of the path. The guest spoke twice before he could awaken his -host’s attention to his proximity. But the second interpellation was so -peremptory that David started from his fevered abstraction and came to a -halt, with an angry look and very much alive to the occasion. - -“Well, Colonel Harcourt?” - -The colonel was, on the instant, his urbane self once more. - -“Forgive my interrupting you in the midst of your lofty cogitations; -but, as it is my purpose to leave your hospitable house to-day, and not -to-morrow, I will even say farewell to my genial entertainer, and -proffer my thanks for a hearty welcome and a no less hearty speeding.” - -“Farewell, then, sir,” said David coldly. “Yet one word more, before we -part,” he added, with sternness: “If hosts have duties toward their -guests, Colonel Harcourt—you have reminded me of it—do not yourself -forget again that guests have a duty toward their hosts. That key, of -which you unwarrantably——” - -“A lesson, sir? By Heaven!——” - -“May you take it so, Colonel Harcourt.” - -The colonel’s face became purple, but Sir David was angry too: and the -white heat is even more deadly than the red. The guardsman, actor in -endless honourable encounters, had learned to know his match when he met -him; and, as the beast passion within him cooled to merely human pitch, -he was seized with a kind of grudging admiration. Here he could no -longer sneer and contend. Nay, here, as a gentleman, he must show -himself worthy of his antagonist. - -Bowing his still crimson face with as good a grace as he could assume: - -“Then, no farewell yet, Sir David; to our next meeting,” he said. - -The lord of Bindon raised his hat and passed on whilst his guest -remained standing. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - A PARLOUR OF PERFUME - - O magic sleep! O comfortable bird - That broodest o’er the troubled sea of the mind, - Till it is hushed and smooth!... - —KEATS (_Endymion_). - - -The atmosphere of Master Simon’s laboratory was much the same, winter or -summer. No extreme of heat or cold could penetrate this crypt, deep set -as it was in the foundations of the keep; and, though against the long -narrow windows, cut into the wall on the level of the moat, one could -see the slender spikes of reed and rushy grass perpetually trembling in -the airs, there was but little direct sunshine. Sometimes, however, -downward thrusts, like spears, when Sol was high; or again when he was -about to sink a level shaft, rose-red in winter, amber glowing in -summer, would come driving in through the vaulted spaces, high above -Master Simon’s head and show to the eye that cared to notice, how dim -and vapour-heavy was all the room below. - -The two fires then came not amiss. Despite the flame on the open hearth -and the glow of the little furnace, Lady Lochore, as she entered, -shivered after the hot sunshine. - -“How dark it is with you!” she cried. “And what strange odours! Ha! It -smells of poison here!” - -“To treat the unknown as unwholesome is the animal instinct,” said the -chemist, didactically, with a glance of contempt. “How differently does -it affect the intellectual being! Fortunately it is in man’s power to -extract good or bad from everything. Listen! Every one of those little -apparatus simmering over yonder is yielding up juices for healing. Did I -choose, child—there might indeed be death in those retorts; just as -there is death in fire and water, in air and in sun. These things are -our servants, and we use them. Poison! How you women prate of poison! -Timorous souls!” - -“I, prate of poison?” exclaimed Lady Lochore. “I, timorous! Where is my -phial, sir? Oh, I’ll show you if I am afraid!” - -She advanced upon him swiftly through the half light to which her eyes -had not yet become accustomed, and instantly belied her own words by a -violent start and scream. Out of the recess where murmured the furnace -fires, Barnaby illumined by the lurid glow, with elf locks hanging and -face and hands blackened, suddenly emerged in his peculiar noiseless -fashion; on his shoulder was Belphegor still all a-bristle and with -phosphorescent eyes. - -“Do you keep devils here, too?” she screeched. - -The dumb boy made an inarticulate sound and stared at the lady. Who -shall say the thoughts that revolved in that brain relentlessly shut off -from communion with the rest of the world? In those beings who are -deprived of certain senses the remaining wits seem often to become -proportionately acute! Nobody could walk so softly, touch so gently as -Barnaby; and nobody could see so swiftly, so deeply. He started back in -his turn and glowered. This was the first time he had looked into the -visitor’s face; her hectic cheek, her roving eyes, her eager teeth -glimmering between ever parted lips—they liked him not. Or, perhaps, who -can say, it was the soul behind those eyes that liked him not. - -Master Simon chuckled. - -“Poisons and devils!... my good Herbs! My faithful Barnaby! A deaf and -dumb lad, my dear, nothing more! But we shall have these nerves of yours -in vastly different trim, even before the day is out. Come here to the -table and sit you down. Nay, now, if you laugh like that, how can we -discuss in reason, how can I trust you with this precious stuff?” - -Lady Lochore made a violent effort to repress the nervous tremor that -still shook her. - -“When I’ve had my first dose,” she said, artfully, “I shall be so much -better that you will trust me with anything.” - -This betokened so excellent a spirit that Master Simon could not be -expected to show further disapproval. How could he, indeed, feeling in -his own veins a new ichor of life, in his own brain an increased -lucidity, in his temper so grand a mood of confidence and decision? He -had seated the lady in his own chair and was seeking in the press for -the new essence, when Barnaby arrested his attention by a timid hand. -The lad pointed significantly to the cat which he was now nursing -against his breast. Master Simon glanced at the animal’s staring coat, -its protruding eye, noted the quick breathing and touched the hot ear. -Belphegor growled fiercely. - -The old man’s countenance became clouded for a moment; a shade as of -misgiving crept into his eye. - -“Come, come cousin,” rose the complaining note of his new patient’s -voice; and Master Simon waved Barnaby away with peremptory gesture. - -The boy slunk back with his burden and the simpler lifted the precious -phial from its shelf. - -“Here,” said he, bearing it over to the table with infinite care, and -admiring its orange colour against the light, “here is the Elixir.” - - -When Ellinor came down the steps into the laboratory, she found her -father still holding forth in the highest good humour, and Lady Lochore -listening with bent head in an attitude of profound attention. At the -sound of her step he broke off with an excited laugh. - -“Aha, Ellinor, the cure has begun! She’s better, she’s better already. -Look at her. Ah, you doubted, you, my daughter, you who worked with me -side by side! Out on you, you of little faith! This is to be my best -case. In a month’s time you will see what you will see.” - -Lady Lochore had risen from her chair and, fixing Ellinor with -unfathomable looks, in the same measure as she drew nearer drew slowly -back herself. - -“By the lord, to see her come, in her hateful youth and strength, in her -pride—and I, I to have failed!” These were the words of the interior -voice. With a convulsive movement she lifted her hand, pressed the -little phial where it lay against the wasted bosom. And the pain of that -pressure was, of a sudden, fierce joy. Failed? Not yet! Her glorious boy -was not to go a beggar whilst such creatures as that rode! - -Like a tingling fire the exultation of that single drop of magic cordial -began to course through her. She had hated Ellinor before she knew her, -with the instinctive hatred of the destined enemy. The instant she had -set eyes upon the fresh face, the placid brow, the serious quiet eyes, -this instinctive hatred had surged into a living passion that was like a -wild beast ever ready to spring. And if now she were to slip the leash -and let the leopard go, who could punish her, dying woman as she was? -What evil would it bring upon her, were it ever known? Aye, who would -ever be the wiser (as Margery said) in this house of craziness where -people dabbled with unknown poisons at their own fantasy? - -Thus the muttering voice within. Then it was hushed upon the silence of -a resolution. - -“Lady Lochore,” said Ellinor, “I must warn you, that drug is not safe!” - -“Be silent!” exclaimed Master Simon, angrily. - -Lady Lochore did not answer, for she was seized with laughter. - -“Dear father,” insisted Ellinor. She had come round to the old man and -had laid her hand caressingly upon his shoulder, “I have nothing but -mistrust for your new Elixir. You have taught me too much for me not to -realise its danger. If you were not now under its influence yourself, I -know you would see it too. Even a mere infusion of the leaves has so -strange an effect, that I have ceased—forgive me, dear—to let the -villagers have it.” - -The simpler threw off her touch in high displeasure. - -“A woman all over!” he muttered. “Fool indeed that I was to think there -could be an exception to the ineptitude of the sex! A pretty helpmate -for a man of science! But I went myself to the village to-day. Aye!” the -fanatic light once more shone under the white eyebrows. “There were many -who needed it. Wait, Ellinor, wait! My discovery shall speak for -itself—shall refute——” - -“Good God!” cried Mrs. Marvel, aghast, and turned instinctively to Lady -Lochore, “what will be the outcome of this?” - -Lady Lochore laughed again. - -“Mrs. Marvel,” she gibed, “has developed all of a sudden a mighty dread -of scientific investigation. Out upon such paltry spirit! She should -take a lesson by my valour, should she not, most wise and excellent -alchemist? And if a little mistake does occur now and again, ’tis but -the more instructive, all in the interest of mankind. Now, Mistress -Marvel, would not that console you?” - -Still clasping her hand over the phial in her breast, Lady Lochore now -moved towards the door—slowly, for the little voice within was beginning -to speak again, and she had to listen as she went. There was a new -jingle rustling in her brain: - - “Ten drops madness - Twenty stillness, - And after that ... blackness! - -It should be easy!... Yes, it should be easy ... in a dish of tea! What -a round throat the hussy has!” - -“Well, father,” said Ellinor’s clear voice, “I must see to David’s -sleeping draught.” - -Lady Lochore in the doorway started and turned round. All at once a -light shone into her brain as if some invisible hand had turned the lens -of a lantern upon it: David’s sleeping draught—David.... Of course! How -clear the whole thing lay before her! She had been about to be clumsy, -stupid, inartistic. But now.... Oh, truly this one drop of the old man’s -Elixir had been a drop of genius.... “The secret of genius,” had the old -man said! Ellinor—what of Ellinor! Merely a thing in the way; a stone to -trip up the step of her son’s fate. Throw it aside, and who shall say -how soon another might not cast the beloved lad to earth? Aye, and when -she would not be there to help. David—it was David!... Who could reckon -on the doings of such a madman as David now this wooing mood had been -started? - -Presently, with slow steps, she came down the room once more. - -Ellinor, bending over her fragrant infusion, felt a shadowing presence -and looked round, to find Lady Lochore at her shoulder. It was in the -dim and vapoury corner behind the screen lit only by the glow of the -charcoal. An impression of gleaming eyes and of teeth from which the -lips were drawn back for one moment troubled her vaguely; but the next -she was full of pity. “Poor creature! How ill she is, and how restless!” -she thought. - -“Is that the stuff?” inquired Lady Lochore, laughing aimlessly like a -mischievous child. And Mrs. Marvel answered her gently, as if it had -been indeed a child who questioned: - -“Yes, does it not smell sweet? An old recipe, ‘The Good Woman’s Brew’; -Vervaine, Red Lavender and Violet, Thyme, Camphire, and a sprig of -Basil.” - -She now placed the vessel on a low shelf close at hand, and began deftly -lifting out the sodden herbs with a glass rod. Little jets of aromatic -steam rose and circled about her. Lady Lochore followed her, and once -again bent over her shoulder. Barnaby seated, cross-legged, in the -darkest corner near the furnace and nursing humpy Belphegor, stared at -the two women with all the might of his wistful eyes. - -“What are you doing?” asked Lady Lochore. - -“Surely you see: clearing these grosser leaves away before finally -straining.” - -“Oh, let me!” - -Ellinor laid down the rod and looked at the speaker with mingled -surprise and anxiety. “I hope in Heaven,” she was thinking, “that my -father has given her no more than the one drop.” - -“Do let me,” insisted Lady Lochore and laid a burning finger on the -other’s cool hand. - -“Oh, certainly if it pleases you. Meanwhile I will get the cup,” said -Ellinor and turned away. - -She had hardly had time to take down the chosen goblet from a cupboard, -when there came a strange and sudden uproar from behind the screen.—A -growl like that of a wild beast from Barnaby, a snarl from Belphegor, a -wild shriek from Lady Lochore. - -“Help, help!” - -Ellinor sprang to the rescue. But her father had already forestalled -her. When she reached the spot he was in the act of plucking the dumb -boy’s great hands from Lady Lochore’s throat. Lady Lochore was talking -volubly, in a high hysterical voice, between laughing and crying: - -“He’s mad, I think! These afflicted creatures are never safe! He wants -to murder me. I was just stirring David’s potion, as she told me, and he -sprang on me like an ape. Ah, God! I am nearly strangled! Fortunately,” -she added, with a shrieking laugh, “David’s precious potion is safe!” - -She had been clasping both hands over her breast, and now rapidly -passing one hand over the other, drew the folds of her kerchief closer -about her throat; for glancing down, she had seen a small yellow stain -upon the lace, and quickly covered it. - -“But what can have happened?” exclaimed Ellinor, “Barnaby is the -gentlest creature....” - -Gentle, however, seemed hardly a word to apply to the lad at the moment. -Struggling in Master Simon’s grasp, mouthing, gesticulating, uttering -ghastly sounds, Barnaby seemed indeed to justify Lady Lochore’s -epithet—mad. - -“He must be shut up!” cried Master Simon, and, with unwonted harshness, -shook the boy as he led him away by the collar. - -Now Barnaby crouched down and whimpered. The old man paused: - -“It’s possible he may have been at my drugs,” said he, looking at his -servant curiously. “So—it will be interesting to watch. I will make the -rogue show me by and by which it is he has been after. Strange! That -would be the first time!” - -“For God’s sake, lock him up, lock him up!” screamed Lady Lochore, -suddenly breaking into fury. “One’s life’s not safe in this lunatic -asylum, between your potions and your idiots. Lock him up, I say, or -I’ll not dare trust myself alone another minute. I ought to be thankful, -surely,” she turned sneering upon Ellinor, “that David’s hospitality -ends for us to-morrow.” - -“Come, come,” said Master Simon, as if the afflicted creature could hear -him. So deep engrained was the habit of submissiveness, that it needed -but the pressure of the old man’s finger to lead the culprit to the -little room off the laboratory. Master Simon pointed with his finger and -Barnaby crawled in, much as a dog retires to his kennel against his -will, pausing to cast imploring glances back. But as the chemist closed -the door and turned the key, there came a fresh outburst from within, -followed by a muffled sound of sobs and cries. - -Master Simon stood a moment with reflective eye, muttering to himself: -he had an unwilling notion that the famous Euphrosinum Elixir might have -something to say to these unpleasant symptoms. - - -Sir David came into the laboratory. He was seeking Ellinor; he looked -neither to the right nor to the left, nor seemed aware of any other -presence. - -“Dear Ellinor,” said he, taking both her hands in his, “I feel more and -more weary—and sleep would be most blessed. Give me the promised cup.” - -“Dear David,” said Ellinor, starting from him, “it is ready.” - -Lady Lochore watched them a moment, darkly intent. Then she came -striding down the length of the room with great steps, her silken skirts -swishing from side to side. She halted before the simpler: - -“Good evening and good-bye, cousin!” - -“Stay a moment,” said he perturbedly. “That phial——” - -“What of it?” she cried, and her eyes shot defiance. - -“I have been thinking, my child—not that I have any doubt of it, for it -is a grand drug—but I have been thinking it might be better, perhaps, if -I prepared a more diluted solution. Give me back that bottle.” - -“Not for the world!” said she harshly, and fingered the empty bottle in -her bosom. “What, can you not trust me? Oh, it’s precious, precious!” -Her voice rang again with wild note. “It has given me back my life.” - - -She turned to gaze once more, with chin bent down and half-closed eyes, -at the figures of Ellinor and David at the distant end of the room. -“Look, look! She pours his draught into the cup. From her hand he takes -it! ‘Dear Ellinor, sleep would be most blessed to-night.’ He drinks! He -will sleep——” So the interior voice, shrill in the silence of her soul. -Then aloud: - -“Good evening, cousin Simon, and good-bye!” she repeated. - -She again took up her interrupted way. As she drew nearer to the door: - -“And good-bye to you, David, sleep well!” she called from the threshold -upon a strange high pitch. - - -Master Simon looked after her, shook his head, drew a deep breath of -doubt through his nostrils and ran his hand distractedly through his -beard. He was very tired, and felt a certain confusion in his head, -succeeding the exhilaration of an hour ago. Belphegor was humped in a -corner. Nothing seemed to be going quite according to calculations. -David passed him with a quick step. “I am going to sleep,” said he, in a -curious still voice, as he went by. - -Sleep! It was a pleasing suggestion. - -“Ellinor,” said the old man plaintively, “if there is any of that -calming decoction left, I think I might do well to partake of it myself -to-night.” - -“There is a whole cup still,” said Ellinor, and turned back to the -shelf. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - TO SLEEP—PERCHANCE TO DREAM! - - My heart a charmed slumber keeps - And a languid fire creeps - Through my veins to all my frame, - Dissolvingly and slowly: soon - From thy rose-red lips my name - Floweth. And then, as in a swoon, - With dinning sounds my ears are rife. - My tremulous tongue faltereth. - I lose my colour, I lose my breath, - I drink the cup of a costly death - Brimmed with delirious draughts of warmest life! - —TENNYSON (_Eleänore_). - - -Ellinor brought so weary a body, so weary a mind to bed that night, that -almost as soon as her head touched the pillow she fell into a deep -dreamless sleep. - -But before long a dim consciousness of trouble began to stir within her -mind, a feeling of sorrow and oppression to bring sighs from her breast. -There was in her ears a sound as of lamentation and tears. At first this -was vaguely interwoven with her own sub-acute consciousness of distress; -but presently, and suddenly it seemed, it became so insistent that she -started and sat straight up in bed, eyes and ears alert, staring and -listening. - -It was her custom to keep both her windows uncurtained at night, so -that, waking, she might exchange a look with his stars, and sleeping, -let them look at her. One window was always wide open. Like a flower, -she craved for all the light and air that heaven and earth could give. - -She sat and stared and listened. Not from her own heart, as she at first -thought, did these sounds of trouble ring in her dream: attuned to -trouble as it was, her heart had but echoed another’s misery. -Something—what was it? Nothing human, surely—was appealing, calling with -moans and whines, like that of some piteous trapped animal that clamours -to the unhearing skies. Aye, and that square of closed moonlit window, -where there should be but the silhouette of an ivy spray or two, was -blocked out by some monstrous shape. Again she thought it was nothing -human, though the casement shook and there were sounds of taps as if -from desperate hands. Her pulses beat thick and hard in her temples and -she had a moment’s paralysing terror. But she was at least a fearless -woman. The next instant she sprang out of bed, and wrapping herself in -the cloak that lay to her hand, she seized the rushlight and advanced -boldly. Before raising an alarm she would see for herself what the thing -was. - -She had not reached within a yard of the window, when with an -exclamation of mingled relief and astonishment, she laid the light aside -and sprang forward and flung open the casement. - -“Barnaby!” she cried, and drew the boy by main force into the room. - -He fell like a dead weight at her feet, exhausted, unable to sustain -himself, his hands feebly closing upon the hem of her garment as if -thereby clinging to safety. - - -On the wall of the Herb-Garden the young poetaster Herrick had sought a -sentimental seat from which he could feast his love-lorn gaze on the -windows of Mrs. Marvel’s chamber; and, watching the tiny flickering -light within rise and sink against the naked panes, feast his heart on -God knows what innocently passionate dreams. - -It was an ideal night for such dreamings; and the Italian-soft airs that -blew upon young Romeo’s cheek could scarcely have been more tender than -this English Lammas-night breath that gently fanned young Luke’s ardour. -A night of nights to sit lost in luxurious despair, to rock a fancied -sorrow and a fanciful love with poetic metre and rhyme; to weave the -sacred thought of the lady’s bower with the melancholy of the moonlit -hour, the sob of unrequited love with the plaint of the night-bird in -the grove. - -To this idyllic love-dream what an awakening! Shattering these ideals -how brutal, how horrid a reality! - -There came running steps in the shaded garden paths, a black, furtive -figure across a white-lit garden space; and then—Herrick looked and -rubbed his eyes like a child and looked again before he could believe—a -man’s figure, to his distressed vision tall and largely proportioned, -climbing, yes, ye gods! climbing up, up, the ivy ropes, up to that -window where his own fancy hardly dared to-night to reach, albeit with -such reverend haltings, with such swoonings almost from its own -temerity. - -The night picture swam before his eyes. He gripped the stones on either -side of him. When the mists cleared, he must look again. He looked and -saw a white figure, all white even as he had held her to be—all white -above the world—was it a minute, was it a lifetime ago? The white figure -opened its arms, drew into its embrace the dark visitor. All the -whiteness seemed to become lost in the blackness. Black, too, it grew -before the eyes of the youthful poet—black the whole world and black his -heart! - -He let himself drop from his perch down into the herb-beds. And there he -lay, crushing vervaine and balsam and sweet thyme into aromatic death. -There he lay a long, long time. - - -Mistress Margery Nutmeg had tied her goffered nightcap under her decent -chin and laid her respectable head upon a chaste pillow with all her -usual expectation of that rest which is the reward of an excellent -conscience. But (as she afterwards averred) the first strange thing in a -night which was to prove one of the strangest at Bindon-Cheveral was -that she could not sleep. She felt, she said, as if the Angel of Death -was beating his wings about the House; and whenever she closed her eyes -she saw rows of little phials before her; and, considering she was so -much accustomed to poor dear Master Rickart’s odd ways, it was the most -curious thing of all that she could not get the thought of Poison out of -her head. At last she could almost have believed she was beginning to -doze when there came sounds without her window as of a tapping, a -scratching, a scraping, a rustling. - -She listened; there was no mistake. Out of bed she got. Out of the -window she looked! - - -In Lady Lochore’s boudoir, despite the midnight hour, the candles were -still burning in goodly array, illuminating round the green board four -tired faces, the play of eight hands, the flutter of cards and the flash -of dice. Two of these faces showed greedy interest: the wax-like -pale-orbed countenance, to wit, of the Dishonourable Caroline and the -oriental visage of Villars. But the third, Lady Lochore’s, fever-spotted -and haunted, beheld the capricious fortunes of chance ebb or flow with -equal indifference. What cared she whether gold grew in a little pile -beside her, or whether she had to jot down sums no banker would credit -now to the name of Lochore? As little for the game, as little for loss -or profit, as small Priscilla herself, whose black-rimmed eyes pleaded -for bed, who took no pains to conceal her yawns and played her cards as -if she were already in a dream. - -Yet Lady Lochore was eager to keep company about her to-night. She was -the first to insist on the fresh round; the first to press the willing -elderly gamblers to another cast. It seemed as if she wanted to throw -her heart into the excitement; to hear the rattle of the dice and her -own loud laugh; to force herself to interest in her opponents’ wrangles; -to pin her attention to the adding of points and the deduction of loss -and gain—as if she welcomed anything that might drown the small -insistent whisper at her ear. Anything to drive away the vision of the -great four-post bed waiting for her in the night’s solitude. - - -Crouching at Ellinor’s feet, Barnaby was trying to tell her, to tell her -something, to get her aid for something, with all the agonised effort of -the human soul struggling to find expression through limitations worse -than those of the brute animal. Deaf and dumb, and so vital a message to -be conveyed! - -With patience as pitiful as the creature was pitiable, Ellinor bent and -tried in vain to understand. - -How he had come to seek her in so perilous a fashion she had, however, -no difficulty in divining. It was but too likely that Master Simon in -his present condition had been oblivious of his prisoner, insensible of -his cries and knocks. But, with his ape-like activity, the lad could -escape easily enough through the window; and she was herself the only -person from whom he could confidently seek help. All that she could -understand readily enough. But why should he require this help? - -As a first thought she endeavoured to discover if he were hungry; he -vehemently shook his head. He almost struck from her hand the glass of -water she, misled by his repeated gesture of one in the act of drinking, -then held to his lips. He was obviously in sore need of restorative, but -the mental distress overshadowed the physical. Now his plucking fingers -began to urge her to the door: he pointed, dragged himself a little way -on his hands and knees, like a dog, came back and again pulled her -towards it. - -Ellinor might have been more alarmed had she not remembered his attack -on Lady Lochore, and been persuaded that the poor fellow was still -suffering from the effects of her father’s mania for experiment. - -She resolved at length to humour the boy as far as she could, and at the -same time, from her own little pharmacy downstairs, to obtain some -harmless sedative and then coax him into bed again. Drawing her cloak -more closely over her white garb, she took up the rushlight in one hand -and extended the other to Barnaby, who in joy staggered to his feet and -precipitated himself forward. - -As they entered the ante-room there came from the stone passage without -a sound of unfaltering steps, approaching with singular rapidity. They -hardly seemed to halt a second upon the threshold of the outer door -before its lock was turned and it opened before them. - -Ellinor glanced at Barnaby in surprise, and marked a sudden terror in -his face that infected her in spite of herself. But the next instant, as -she looked round to see Sir David standing before her, sprung as it were -out of the blackness, the feeling gave way to a glow of courage. -Ellinor’s heart always rose to the fence. Barnaby, however, remained -very differently impressed; the human soul in him seemed to wither away -in fear. Like an animal before some abnormal manifestation of nature, he -crept back, cowering, with eyes fixed on the new-comer’s face, to the -further corner of the inner room. - -So impossible a situation was it that her cousin should seek her in her -own apartment at midnight, that it hardly needed the look on his face to -convince her that something was strangely wrong. - -Faint as was the gleam of colour thrown by the rushlight she held aloft, -his countenance appeared to her all transfigured; so much so that she -had an unreasoning impression that his white face itself diffused -radiance in the gloom. His heavy hair was tossed away from his forehead -as if wild fingers had played with it. Fragments of moss, a withered -leaf here and there, clung to his garments; but it did not need this -evidence to tell Ellinor that he was straight from the woods—the breath -of the trees and of the deep night emanated from him, fresh and pungent, -indescribable. - -“David!” she cried, retreating step by step from his advance. “I -thought, I hoped you had been asleep!” - -“Asleep!” he answered. He tossed his hair from his brow. “Nay, Ellinor I -have but just awakened from a long, long sleep: from a sleep like the -sleep of death.” - -Notwithstanding his pallor, he looked strong and young; the tired lines -and the unconscious frown of sorrow were smoothed away. Slowly she had -stepped back into the inner room and he had followed eagerly. She had -little thought at the moment for transgressed conventions. Every energy -of her being was absorbed in the desire so to deal with him as to give -no shock to a brain acting under some inexplicable influence. She -instinctively felt that he must be treated even as the sleep-walker who -has above all things to be guarded against sudden waking. - -Assuming a look of perfect calmness, she lit her candles and made him -welcome with a smile as if her white bedchamber had been a drawing-room, -and she, in her cloaked nightdress, had worn garments of state. - -“Sit down, dear cousin, and we can talk a little—but not long, for we -both must sleep.” - -His eye clung to her, as she moved about, with an unfaltering gaze of -delight. So had she seen him look at his stars! In her turmoil of doubt -and anxiety there was an under movement, as of a long conceived joy that -had strength to stir at last. Even if he were distraught, he loved her! -But the impression that things were ill with him soon devoured every -other. - -“I, sit down!” he cried. “I, sleep! Nay, Ellinor, do you not understand! -I have been in bondage all this time, and now this blessed cup you gave -me has set my soul free. First it ran like fire through my veins. It -drove me out into the woods, I ran among the singing trees. I cannot -tell how it was with me, but I felt strength growing within my soul. -There was struggle, there was pain, but this giant strength grew up. I -fought. One by one I broke the rusting chains that so long have bound -me—I threw the links away! Memories, doubt, hate, despondency, I cast -them all by! I stood in the glade, looked up to the stars. I was -free—free, Ellinor, free to act, free to speak. To love you, to love -you...! Then the trees took voice: ‘Go to her!’ they said, and waved -their arms towards you. They ran with me. Straight as the arrow from the -bow, I started, leaping over the mountains. And now, Ellinor, love, I -have come!” - -He drew near to her as he spoke, and in his hands, cold as ice, he held -both hers. She would not have drawn away if she could. About herself -with David she had not a second’s doubt; by a look, she knew, she could -have thrown him to her feet. - -His words flowed on like ceaseless music. Was woman ever wooed by lips -so eloquent and so beautiful, with touch so passionate and yet so -reverent! The pity of it: it was only a dream! - -“I knew you were waiting for me in your white garments, with your light -burning. I knew you would open your inner door for me. Oh, faithful -heart!” - -Now he raised both her hands and brushed them with his lips one after -the other but so lightly that she hardly knew the caress. Then she felt -his arms hover about her like wings: the shadow of a lover’s embrace. He -bent his face close to hers. His voice, through passionate inflexions, -sank to an undertone of tenderness. - -“You have stood beside me on my platform at night. You did not know it -always, but you were always there! You have stood beside me in the dawn, -and in the dawn I sought you in the garden. Ah, that morning I would -have broken my chains and awakened to freedom if I could! Always, since -that first night, my heart has been singing to you, though my lips were -silent. But you heard, did you not, the song of my heart? I heard the -song of yours, Ellinor, through all the evil things that beat around me, -demons of the past that put troubles and discords between two songs that -should ever rise together. Do not say anything—do not tell me anything -of those dark hours!” he went on, arresting her as she was about to -speak. The serenity of his own countenance became disturbed for a -moment, its radiance overclouded. He fixed her, with piercing question: - -“Can I trust you?” - -And, her true eyes on his, she made answer: - -“To the death!” - -He drew a long deep breath; and, with both hands, made a gesture as if -thrusting back victoriously some spectre enemy. Smiling, and with -exultation clanging in his voice: - -“See, see,” he cried, “how they fade, how they melt away! Freedom is -ours!” - -Now he flung his arm around her and strained her to his breast. To be -held to his heart and feel the passion of his embrace—it ought to have -brought to her that sweet ecstasy of trouble, which to a pure woman is -sacred to her only love. But to Ellinor this moment was perhaps the -cruellest of her life. Must love remain to her ever but a dream, that -only in dream, or in delirium, she should be wooed! Her dominant -thought, however, was still for David. She saw him, like the -sleep-walker of the legend, advancing along a perilous bridge beneath -which lay the chasm of madness or death. - -“Oh, God,” she cried in her soul, “let not mine be the hand to thrust -him down!” - -Then, as if in answer to her prayer, there came upon her through the -open window, like a promise of peace, the vision of the night’s sky. -Just against the black edge of the tower, emerging even as she looked, -appeared pure and bright and steady the effulgent light of the new star. - -“See, David,” she said, and turned his face from its ardent seeking of -her own, “there are the stars, there is your Star, looking in upon us! -Shall we not go and look at her from the tower. Surely she is even more -radiant than usual!” - -For a second his passion resisted the gentle touch; then all at once she -felt his frenzied grasp relax. She drew a long breath! She slipped from -his relaxing hold as the mother slips her arm from under her sleeping -child. A change came over his face; a wistful expression of struggle and -doubt as between reason and madness. But the next instant the wild light -flamed up again. - -“The star!” he whispered, then loudly repeated: “My star!” and stretched -out his arms to it, with the airy unmeasured gesture of the delirious. - -Her heart stood still. Like a fire or a fever, his exaltation had but -leaped up the higher for the momentary check. - -“Ellinor, my star! The world’s desire, my love—I come to you!” - -He made a spring towards the window, and paused. With arms still wide -outstretched, he looked like some god poised before taking wing for -endless space. She flung herself against him, and forced him back from -the window. - -“David—Beloved...!” And, almost with relief, she felt the second danger -of his passion close round her again. - -“My star!” he repeated exultingly. His voice rang out now with high -unnatural note, now sank to rapid whispering. “Sweet miracle—the star -that shines in my sky and walks in beauty beside me! You remember, you -remember, Ellinor,” he whispered, “we had met already, that first night, -spirit to spirit, my soul to yours, O Star, before we met in the flesh!” -He laughed in joy, and she felt the scalding tears rush up to her eyes. - -“Ah, poor David!” - -“Oh, I knew you at once! There you shone out of the dim old room, as you -had shone out of my black spaces. Your brow of radiance, your hair of -fire! And your eyes—oh, blue, blue! Ellinor, you remember! I kissed -you—my star! I held you and I kissed you.” The whisper now sank so low -that she could hardly follow his words. A tremor had come into the arms -that encompassed her. She felt as if a weakness, a dimness, were -gathered upon him. “That night we opened the door and stood upon the -threshold of the golden chamber. Why did we not go in? I do not know. -Shall we not go in now? Ellinor, bride, give me again your lips, those -lips that have haunted me waking and sleeping. Ellinor!” - -The last articulate words broke way almost upon a moan. He was breathing -with panting effort. Suddenly he swayed, and she upheld him. Then he -failed altogether, and she guided his fall—strong as she was, it was all -she could do—till he lay stretched his length on the floor at her feet. -Then she knelt beside him. - -His eyes looked up at her, pleading through the mists that were -thickening over them. His lips, without sound, formed the prayer for her -kiss. She knew not what despair was coming upon her. The apprehensions, -vague yet so evil, that had yet been gathering thick about her all this -strange acute hour, seemed now massed into one terrible tangible shape: -in a second she must look upon its awful face. Well, what she could -still give her beloved in life—that she would give from her breaking -woman’s heart. - -And bending down, she laid her lips upon his. - -She thought it was the kiss of death. He smiled faintly, his eyelids -fell. Like a child, he turned his head upon his arm and drew a long deep -sigh as of the peace of repose after unutterable restlessness. She -crouched down close to watch for the moment of the passing of all she -loved. - -Once before she had seen another strong man’s life go from him as she -knelt by his side; had known the very instant between the last heaving -of his breast and its eternal stillness. And she thought now, that when -that minute should again strike for her and she should wait for the -sound of the breath that was never to come, her own life would be driven -out under the pressure of that slow agony! - - -So prepared was she for horror that she could hardly credit her own -senses when presently it was borne in upon her that his respiration was -becoming gradually deeper and more assured, that his pallid face was -assuming a more natural look. She slid her trembling fingers upon his -hand; it was warm and humanly relaxed. - -He was alive! He was asleep! The Spectre of Terror had fled from before -her without unveiling its countenance. She had thought their kiss was -the kiss of death, and behold, it was as the kiss of Life! - -Yet the tide of relief, passionate as it was, could not carry away with -it all doubt and fear. He was deaf to her call, insensible to the -pressure of her fingers. Even as she knew that no man in ordinary -circumstances could fall thus suddenly from waking into slumber, she -knew that this was the unconsciousness of the drugged. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - THOU CANST NOT SAY I DID IT - - O! my fear interprets. What! is he dead? - —SHAKESPEARE (_Othello_). - - -Across a lively interchange of words between Mrs. Geary and Mr. Villars, -across Lady Lochore’s shrill laughter and malicious intervention, there -fell a silence. It was as if a shadow had suddenly eaten up the light. -Lady Lochore became rigid, and the dice-box dropped from her hand.—All -looked towards the door. There stood a broad and placid figure, -white-capped and white-aproned, with folded hands; a figure surely the -very sight of which should have brought comfort and confidence. But Lady -Lochore stared at it with terror on her face. - -“Please, my lady, could I speak with you a minute?” - -Sir David’s sister rose slowly and moved like an automaton across the -room. She lifted her hand to her contracted throat. - -“I am sorry to tell you, my lady, there is something seriously amiss.” - -Lady Lochore spread out her arms as if groping for support. Her dry -tongue clicked. - -“I knew there was no use going to Sir David,” continued the unctuous -whisper. - -Sir David! The blackness suddenly passed away from before Lady Lochore’s -eyes. - -“Sir David, woman!” She clutched the housekeeper’s wrist and pinched it -sharply. - -“Yes, my lady.” Margery looked mildly surprised. “Him being always lost -in stars, so to speak, and locked up in his tower.” - -“Then he’s not ill?” Lady Lochore flung the servant’s hand away from -her. She drew a deep breath, then gave a little rasping laugh. What news -she had hoped for? Relief and disappointment ran through her like cross -currents. - -“Ill, my lady? Sir David? Thank God, no! Not as I know, my lady.” - -Margery did not often show emotion beyond a well fixed point. But she -was surprised; she really was. - -“Please, my lady,” began the whisper again, and Lady Lochore bent for a -moment a scornful ear. Then her laughter rang out again, louder this -time. - -“Excellent Nutmeg! What a story! You have been having toasted cheese for -supper, sure!—Listen, good people: some one has been trying to break -into Margery’s sacred chamber. Oh, fie, Mrs. Nutmeg!” - -Her pale lips seemed withered with her forced merriment as she turned -upon the trio still sitting round the green cloth. The gamblers halted -in their renewed wrangle to give her an impatient attention. Little -Priscilla, arrested in a yawn, twisted a small weary face over her -shoulder to stare. - -“Not my chamber,” said Mrs. Nutmeg, raising her voice slightly, but -otherwise quite unmoved. - -“Not yours.” - -“No, my lady—the chamber over mine.” - -“Mrs. Marvel’s!” - -And once more Maud Lochore’s hysterical mirth broke forth. The next -instant it was suddenly hushed, and stillness fell again upon them. -Priscilla rose from the table and came forward three steps impetuously, -then halted, crimsoning to the roots of her hair, clasping and -unclasping her hands. The Dishonourable Caroline looked at her daughter -for a second with a pale, hard eye, then said in a repressive tone -curiously at variance with the meaning of her words: - -“Thieves and housebreakers; we shall all be murdered in our beds! Let -the men be called! Let search be made! Come, Priscilla.” She slowly -waddled round to the girl’s side. “You shall remain in my room till the -miscreants are captured. No doubt some of the gentlemen would stay -within call.” - -“The gentlemen—where are they?” asked Lady Lochore. Then bending her -brow darkly on Margery: “But why did you not call the men?” she asked. - -Margery pleated her apron. - -“Please, your ladyship,” she answered, in that sort of whisper that is -more effectively heard than the natural voice, “it was no thief, whoever -it was. He knocked at Mrs. Marvel’s window and the window was opened to -him.” - -Lady Lochore gave a cry, a cry charged with a curious triumph as well as -a stabbing remorse. Was her enemy delivered into her hands after all! -Then that secret minute in the laboratory, that dire deed of impulse and -opportunity, it had all been useless! For a brief black space she fought -the thought in her heart. Well, who could tell, after all? Old Rickart -was mad, mad as a hatter; and his theories, his famous discoveries might -well prove but moonshine spun from his own crazy brain, while she, poor -fool, was wearing out her short remnant of life with leaps and bounds, -with senseless terrors, with weak repentances for a deed that perhaps -had never been done! And if it were done? Up sprang her indomitable -spirit. If it were done, it was well done! And, done or no, the hour of -personal vengeance was vouchsafed her at the moment she had ceased to -hope for it, least expected it. She would not be Maud Lochore, with the -strength of death upon her, did she not use it to the full. - -Old Villars rose from his seat, his face working with varied emotions: -anger, greedy curiosity, low vindictive pleasure. The Dishonourable -Caroline packed her daughter’s arm firmly under her own. - -“It is time for bed,” she asserted. - -But Priscilla wrenched herself from her mother’s grasp and stamped her -foot. - -“Where is Mr. Herrick?” she exclaimed, and burst into tears. - -Meanwhile Lady Lochore was speaking in broken sentences of ejaculation -and command: “Shame, disgrace upon the House of Bindon! How dared the -creature bring her wanton ways under our roof? But it was well, order -should be put to it all.” - -“Take these candles, Margery,” she ordered, “and lead the way. My good -friends, I crave your support. I am a daughter of this house. I have to -defend its honour and expose those who would bring shame upon it. You -see, you have all seen: I stand alone. My poor brother—” But her voice -broke. Again the awful sickening qualm that she had been fighting -against all the evening seized upon her. Of him she could not nerve -herself to speak. Savagely rallying her strength, she took up her -candle. “I must have some disinterested witnesses,” she went on. “Come -and see me pluck the mask from a smooth hypocrite’s face. What’s the -child sobbing for? Why doesn’t she go to bed as she is bid? Is she so -very anxious to see Mrs. Marvel’s Romeo?” - -With a cruel little laugh she passed on, disdaining Villars’ eagerly -proffered arm. - -“Thank you, but you had better follow behind, most faithful cavalier. -How strange that both the other gentlemen should be missing! But we -shall soon know which has the best excuse.” - - -Ellinor knelt brooding over her beloved, now cold to the heart again -with the doubt how this might end, now reassured by the depth of his -repose. There was nothing stertorous in the long easy breathing. A -natural moisture had gathered on the sleeper’s brow. The fluttering -irregularity of the pulse was settling down under her fingers into -fuller, slower measure. That the “Good Woman’s” sleeping draught which -she had herself prepared for David could produce so potent an effect -was, she knew, impossible. But, however produced, it seemed, so far, -beneficial. - -It was for a space of time, almost happiness to see him sleep and in -such peace, with the shadow of the smile her kiss had called up still -upon his lips; to feel herself so necessary to him; to be alone with him -and her secret in the night. - -Not yet had she time to examine the wild conjectures flitting through -her mind; not yet time to face the problem of saving her good name and -his gentleman’s honour from the consequences of this most innocent love -meeting. She wanted to taste this exquisite relief, to rest her soul -upon the brown-gold wings of hope before taking up her burden again. - -Suddenly an insolent knock on the panel of her door startled her from -her contemplation. She had but the time to spring to her feet; and upon -the flash of a single thought, to unfasten her cloak and fling it -hastily over David’s body, before the knock was repeated louder and the -door thrown open. - -Lady Lochore stood on the threshold. - -Behind her was a peering group. Ellinor, in the first moment of strained -fancy, saw a thousand lights, a thousand staring eyes, a sea of faces. -The next instant the tide of blood began slowly to ebb from her brain. -She felt herself strong, cold, indifferent. She knew she stood in -night-garb before them all, she knew that the covered figure lay in full -line of sight, in full light. She did not care. All her energies were -concentrated in one fierce resolve: she would save the honour of this -helpless man, no matter at what cost. So long as she had life and could -stand before him, no one should lift that cloak to see who lay beneath -it. - -She took her post and faced the intruders:—Lady Lochore, with harpy -countenance, craning forward, greedy of vengeance; Mr. Villars, with -goatish face, looking over her shoulder, greedy of scandal; Margery with -stony eyes, holding the candelabra up aloft to shed more light upon her -enemy’s shame; Mrs. Geary, staring with pallid orbs.... Ellinor clenched -her arms over her heaving breast. - -But they who had expected so different a scene, and thought to find a -panting young Romeo behind a curtain or a suave experienced Don Juan -ready with explanations, a languorous Juliet or a distraught Elvira, -halted almost with fear before the strange spectacle:—the prone figure, -quite still, covered away, more sinister in its suggestion than even the -sight of death; the menacing woman nobly robed from the spring of her -full throat to the arch of her bare foot in heavy white folds, who, in -her strength and purity, might have been a model for the vestal virgin -guarding her sacred fire. - -Lady Lochore’s indictment froze unspoken upon her lips; her face became -set as in a mask of terror; the hand flung out in gesture of vindictive -reprobation, finger ready pointed in scorn, shook as with palsy. Her eye -quailed from the stern beauty of Ellinor’s face and dropped to the dark -mask on the floor; there, clear of the folds, lay a slender hand, -helpless and relaxed, with the gleam of a well-known signet-ring upon -the third finger. Her mouth dropped open, her terrified eyes almost -started from their sockets. She flung a bewildered look around, and met -full the accusing glare of Barnaby’s gaze fixed upon her from the shadow -of the window curtain. Barnaby, monstrous figure, as if her crime itself -had taken shape, to call for retribution! - -“Lady Lochore, what do you seek here? Have you not done evil enough -already in this house!” - -Ellinor’s voice pierced with direct accusation to Lady Lochore’s soul. -For a second the guilty woman fairly struggled for breath. Margery saved -her from self-betrayal: - -“Her ladyship has surely seen enough!” - -Their eyes met. These words, too, were capable of a terrible -undermeaning. But the housekeeper contrived to convey through her -expressionless gaze a sense of support. If this woman knew the secret, -she knew it as an accomplice; there was help in the thought. - -“You are right,” cried Lady Lochore shrilly, “we have seen enough! -Forgive me, my friends, for having brought you to such a spectacle. -Back, back, shut the door. I forbid—I forbid anyone to make a step -forward. Leave the creature to her shame. Oh, it is horrible!” - -She beat them back with her hands as she felt Villars’ eager pressure on -one side and the slow, steady advance of Mrs. Geary on the other. She -knew that their fingers itched to raise the veil of that cloak. If they -had raised it, she must have gone mad! - -Margery firmly closed the door. - -“Really, my dear Lady Lochore,” complained Villars, “I think the matter -should be further investigated. I can understand your delicate -repugnance, but positively that figure on the floor—Deyvil take me—it -looked like a corpse!” - -“Fool, do you not see it was a ruse, a trick? Ah, it has made me sick—it -is too disgusting——” - -She wiped the sweat from her brow, and then in truth shuddered as from a -deadly nausea. - -Mrs. Geary, breathing hard and fanning herself with her handkerchief, -had fixed her gaze on the speaker’s face. Her ideas moved very slowly, -but they were sure. - -“My dear, your whole behaviour is incomprehensible,” she said. “Mr. -Villars is quite right. The matter should be investigated. Who, and in -what condition, is the man under that woman’s cloak? It is our duty to -elucidate the matter. Where is Mr. Herrick?” - -“And for that matter, where is Colonel Harcourt?” sneered Mr. Villars. - -“You shall not dare!” screamed Lady Lochore. She arrested a retrograde -movement on either side with violently extended arms. “Out—back to your -rooms, all of you! Are you devils, that you should want to gloat—” - -Margery laid her left hand warningly on her elbow, and Lady Lochore -broke off abruptly. What had she said? She had no idea herself. She -could have flung herself on her face and shrieked aloud. The fearful -deed was done! There could now be no more doubt. The brand of Cain was -on her brow! Her death-sweat would not wash it off! It was burnt into -the very bone! - - -She had thrust her guests into the passage with as little ceremony as -Lady Macbeth dismissing the feasters. When the door of Ellinor’s outer -room was closed between them and that something with Sir David’s -signet-ring, the clutch at her heart relaxed a little and she could draw -her breath with more ease. A sort of apathy began to creep over her. -Margery was speaking and she could listen: - -“Her ladyship being so delicate, it is quite natural she should be -upset. It is her ladyship’s way to act on impulse. But to find such -doings under her ladyship’s own roof, so to speak, and the person a -close relation of the family! Mistress Marvel is a very clever lady, and -whether the gentleman were drunk or asleep—” she looked up a second -swiftly at Lady Lochore, and resumed the soothing trickle of speech, -“her ladyship is quite right. So long as she knows how she stands with -regard to Mrs. Marvel, there had better be no open scandal, such as -leads,” said Margery piously, “to gentlemen’s duels and the like.” - -There now came a patter of feet, a flutter of soft garments, a sobbing, -uplifted voice— - -“What was it? Which of them was it?” - -“Priscilla!” Mrs. Geary caught her daughter’s wrist and the girl gave a -cry of pain. “Disobedient child, back to your room!” - -Priscilla whimpered and writhed; but the lady maintained her firm grasp -and, with dignity accepting a candle from Margery’s candelabra, turned -and marched the truant down the passage that led to her apartments. - -Bowing and smirking, Mr. Villars, whose further advice and proffers of -help were ruthlessly cut short by an impatient wave of Lady Lochore’s -hand, had no resource but to betake himself with his triple light in the -direction of his own quarters. He had no idea of letting matters rest -there, but feigned nevertheless immediate submission. - -They parted in the round gallery where three corridors met—two belonging -to the modern house, the third leading to the tower-wing which had been -the territory of their raid. Mrs. Nutmeg looked awhile after the bobbing -lights; then, with a pensive smile upon her lips, laid down the -candelabra, and after some effort, for it was not usually moved, closed -the heavy oaken door which shut off the tower-wing from the newer parts -of the Bindon House; locked it, and in silence placed the key in her -apron pocket. Lady Lochore stared at her uncomprehendingly. - -“It is as well, my lady, to know that no one can get in or out of the -keep end—except through the window! The lower door I locked myself and -Sir David of course has his key. But it is to be hoped that none of the -disturbance reach him on his tower, poor gentleman!” - -The horror returned to Lady Lochore’s eyes; how much did this secret, -impassive woman really know of to-night’s deeds? - -“Margery!” she cried. - -“Yes, my lady, it is a grand night for the stars,” said Margery. And as -the other groaned: “Will your ladyship come to bed?” she went on; “I -humbly hope you have not let Master Rickart give you any of his queer -drugs; you don’t look yourself. He has a kind of stuff, I have heard -tell, that upsets people’s brains, fills them with queer fancies, like -nightmare, so to speak. And there’s been madness in the village already. -Master Rickart will have a deal to explain, I’m thinking. There, my -lady, you’re shivering. Come to bed!” - -Lady Lochore suffered herself to be led to her room; to be unclothed and -assisted into the great four-post bed. Margery’s presence, her touch, -was agony to her, and yet, when she left the room, Lady Lochore could -have shrieked after her. But she closed her lips, closed her eyes. - -At last she was shut in alone with her own conscience. She had never -before been afraid, this woman who had been ready to take death as -recklessly as she had taken life. After a while, she crawled out of bed -and into the adjoining room. Above the throbbing of her pulses and her -own gasping respiration she could hear the light breathing from the cot. -Noiselessly she parted the curtains and let an opalescent ray of moon in -upon the little sleeper. - -Surely, surely, when she looked upon him for whom she had done it—her -boy, whom a fool and a wanton would have conspired to keep out of his -rights!—this horrible agony would leave her. She would be proud of her -own courage, proud to have been strong enough to act. Crime! What was -crime? The crime had been to try and defraud her child! “Ten drops -madness!” How many drops could that phial have contained? Madness! Well, -he had method enough in his madness to remember the way to his -mistress’s arms!... “After that darkness”—the long, long Darkness! Her -teeth chattered. What then? It was but retribution if his long sleep -came upon him thus! Ah, they had caught the scheming widow red-handed. -Red-handed was the word—oh, the hussy’s conscience was not so clear -either! Why had she covered him up from their sight? Let her answer for -it, she and her poisoning old father! But what was this fantastic water? -Surely it was his hideous drug, little as she had had of it, that drove -out this clammy sweat upon her, made her heart sink—sink with this awful -sickness, filled her brain with those black fleeting shadows that even -the child’s warm presence could not conjure away. - -She closed her eyes, for it was almost as if the unconscious baby-visage -added to her terror. But a glare swam before her inner vision, and out -of it and in the midst of it, in some horrible fashion, Barnaby’s face -with accusing eyes looked forth. What had brought Barnaby in Mrs. -Marvel’s room—Barnaby who knew? She put her hands to her throat as if -she still felt the clutch of his fingers upon it. The next instant, with -a spasm of relief, she had almost called aloud with guilty Macbeth—“Thou -canst not say I did it!” Let the deaf and dumb boy point and mouth and -gibber, what he had seen he never could bear witness to.... Deaf and -dumb—oh rare! - -She stood beside the cot and gazed with a desperate tenderness upon it. -There now slept the lord of Bindon! His fortune was secured, and by her -deed. She bent her head to kiss the little chubby hand. But before her -lips had reached it she shuddered back:—between her and her child’s hand -rose the vision of another hand, pale, limp, with a signet-ring. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - JEALOUS WATCHERS OF THE NIGHT - - Fie on’t! Oh fie! ’Tis an unweeded garden - That’s gone to seed: things rank and gross in nature - Possess it merely.... - ... Frailty thy name is woman! - —SHAKESPEARE (_Hamlet_). - - -It was late at night when Colonel Harcourt dismounted, stiff and tired, -in front of the _Cheveral Arms_. He had successfully sought at Bath a -pair of friends who were to call upon Sir David on the morrow; but he -had, somewhat morosely, declined their proffered hospitality. For some -ill-defined reason he had been drawn back to Bindon. - -The sleepy landlord had but a poor supper to serve: _per contra_ an -excellent bottle of wine. One, indeed, that so curiously resembled the -Clos-Royal of which the colonel had approved at Bindon House that, as he -tasted it, he found himself sardonically regretting that he had not -pressed a more handsome gratuity into old Giles’s palm. - -Indeed, he soon called for another bottle. Yet he was in no better a -humour after the cracking of the second seal. The thoughts seething in -his brain remained as dark and heavy as the liquor in his glass, but -were far from being as generous. - -His physical equilibrium was disturbed. It had always been a part of -Antony Harcourt’s power with men, as with women, that no matter how -seriously they might take him, he should take himself and them with -gentlest ease. But to-night he was a prey to two passions that would not -let their presence be denied. A passion of resentment against his whilom -host; a longing to feel his own hand striking that cold, pale cheek, or -yet to see a thin stain of blood upon that affectedly old-fashioned -waistcoat spreading and running down, whilst he should smile and wonder -that it should actually show red. - -The other passion! He was in love with the widow Marvel—as damnably in -love as the raw boy, Herrick, himself, with the added torture of the -_roué_ who has never yet known denial, of the materialist who can -console himself with no poetic fancies and can dull his senses with no -falutin of sensibility. - -A month ago, if anyone had told him that his elegant person should house -two such wild beasts, he would not have thought the suggestion even -worth the trouble of a smile. Now, as he lay back on his wooden chair, -eyeing the ruby in his glass with a deep, vindictive eye, Colonel -Harcourt felt his savage guests tear at him, and was in as dangerous a -mood as ever undid a fool or made a criminal. All at once the heat of -the room, of the wine, of his own fierce mood, stifled him. He rose, lit -himself a cigar, and sallied out, bare-headed and uncloaked, into the -sweet, still night. - -The inn stood a little apart from the village—a gunshot distance from -the gates of Bindon Park. Colonel Harcourt paced a few steps down the -moonlit white road and paused, drawing reflective puffs, feeling almost -without noticing how grateful was the cool air upon his head, hearing -without listening the mysterious whisper of the trees on the other side -of the park walls. He moved his cigar from his lips and hesitated. - -Then, on an impulse that was as sudden as it was purposeless, he turned -off from the hard road, silver in the moonlight, and struck over the -stile into the darkness of the narrow, tree-shaded path that led to the -church on the grounds. From this, giving the Rectory a wide berth, he -branched off, and, aimlessly enough, directed his steps towards the -House. Twelve strokes of the night floated gravely from the little -square church tower. A dog bayed in the village and was answered in -deeper note from Bindon stable-yards. On went Antony Harcourt fitfully, -slowly, now pausing, now beating time with steady footfall to an evil -little pipe of song that the dark secret world and his own heart seemed -to take up, one after the other, like a catch. - -A dry stick snapped sharply under his feet, the light of a lantern -flashed upon his face, a hand fell heavily on his shoulder. It was one -of the keepers, who instantly apologised profoundly to Bindon’s -personable guest and sped him on his way with a reverential “Good-night, -sir,” succeeded by a stare and a shrug. The ways of gentle-folk were -strange. - -Burgundy is a wine that long remains hot in the blood. Colonel -Harcourt’s pulses were throbbing. A curious excitement pervaded his -being. Like the sails of a mill under a fitful breeze, anon his brain -whirled with plans, anon seemed to stagnate, unable to formulate a -thought. He found himself at last standing at the entrance of the ruins, -at the back of the Herb-Garden. Before him the tower-wing of the house -cut the shimmering star-shine with pointed gable, with massed chimney -stack, with the huge black square of the keep, all fantastically picked -out by stripes of moonlight. The curious exotic spices of the -Herb-Garden rose against his nostrils. - -He flung upwards a look of scorn:—was the brain-sick star-gazer even now -at his telescope? Upon the sweep of his downward glance an illumined -window caught and arrested his attention. He made a rapid calculation -from the gables—Mistress Marvel’s window! - -Lady Lochore still kept them at late hours it seemed, in this whilom -sleepy house! The fair widow was doubtless but just disrobing for the -night. As he gazed somewhat sentimentally—what tricks will Clos-Royal -and the witchery of a Lammas-night play even with a middle-aged -gentleman of vast experience and acute sense of humour!—suddenly he -started and stared, open mouthed upon a curse. - -Something black and tall and slight, a man’s figure, had appeared -against the bright open window, cutting it across with outstretched arms -and, almost at the same moment, something dimly pale and of soft -outline, a woman’s figure, flung itself between his eyes and the -unexpected vision. He caught a glimpse of white bare arms. Then all -vanished again as if it had not been, and there was naught but the -lighted window, open to the night, confiding, innocent, tranquil. - -Colonel Harcourt gnashed his teeth and cursed long and deep within -himself. For all his libertine theories and Lady Lochore’s denunciations -he had never doubted for a moment but that Mrs. Marvel’s favours were a -prize as yet untouched. And now—behold! One more audacious than himself -had slily reached up and plucked the golden fruit! - -“By the Lord, I’ll run that Lovelace to earth!” This was the first -articulate thing out of his fury. - -He began scrambling through the ruins in his frantic desire to reach a -closer point of view. A dangerous way, in truth, but one that would -perchance prove more dangerous by daylight, since the perils that are -unknown do not exist and the god of chance proverbially favours the -reckless. Colonel Harcourt risked his life a score of times and knew it -not. Hot in his determination, he scarcely felt the hurt when he fell; -and, when he spurned the crumbling, slipping stone beside him, the sound -of its drop into unknown vaults evoked no image of what he himself had -escaped. As little had he heeded the song of the bullet in his ear or -the roar of the mine beside him when he had led his lads up the French -lines at Barrosa, a dozen years before. Torn, panting, bruised, he -landed at length safely on a poison-plot of the Herb-Garden. Even as he -looked up again the light at the gable-end window went out. - -With that light went out his own heat of disappointed passion. _Homme à -bonnes fortunes_ as he was, he was not the man to care to come second -anywhere. Mrs. Marvel’s chief charm after all had been her -unattainableness. The colonel, as he stood in the moonlight, was all at -once a sober man. It seemed to him now that, culminating with that -second bottle, he had gradually been getting drunk this whole fantastic -fortnight. - -“What, in all the devils’ names, did it really matter that a weak-minded -recluse should slight him and his fellow guests, that he should have -taken upon himself this absurd challenge, from which there was now no -retreat? What was there in the country widow? And why should he have -seen red because of the timely discovery that she was wanton and not -virtuous? And how the devil was he to get out of this infernal garden?” - -A pretty situation wherein to bring his forty-eight years’ experience -and his thirteen stone of flesh! As he ruefully felt over his bruised -body and damaged garments, his fingers struck against a hard outline in -his waistcoat pocket. The key! He gave a soft chuckle. It was a poor end -to a summer night’s venture, but an undoubted relief to be able to -extricate oneself in commonplace fashion by walking out through an open -gate. - -Wrapping his philosophical humour round him as the best cloak to cover -his sense of moral dilapidation, he was cautiously picking his way, when -he became aware of a hasty footstep behind him. As he turned round, the -moonlight showed him a tall, slender black figure, a haggard, white -face! - -“Luke Herrick!” - -“Colonel Harcourt!” - -The older man was the first to speak. He was not astonished—only (he -told himself) highly amused. There was a tone in his voice, however, -which belonged less to amusement than to some biting desire to use the -keenest-edged weapon wits could provide. - -“How fortunate that I should have the key of the gate and be able to let -you out, Mr. Herrick!” - -He began to fumble for the lock in the darkness of that shaded spot, and -laughed as he felt the young man press forward suddenly behind him and -then draw back a step with a hissing breath. The gate creaked on its -hinges. Colonel Harcourt, with a gesture the mocking courtesy of which -was lost in the night, invited the other to proceed. - -“After you, sir. Why do you hesitate? It is quite fit that dashing youth -should take precedence of middle-age on certain occasions.” - -Herrick clenched his fist; then with a desperate effort regained control -of his most sore and injured self and stalked out of the garden, -spurning that earth his feet would tread for the last time. - -“You walk late, my young friend,” resumed Harcourt, as he joined him. - -“So do you, sir!” cried Herrick thickly. - -The colonel laughed with quite a mellow sound. In proportion as -Herrick’s discomfiture became manifest his own geniality returned. - -“Our ways lie together as far as the moat-bridge,” remarked he. - -Herrick made no reply. What though she had fallen, and fallen to such an -one, she was still a woman; and through him, who had worshipped her, -shame should not come upon her. Let Harcourt mock and jeer in his -triumph, he would be patient ... till a fitter moment. - -“By George! our little Romeo is discreet,” thought the colonel. “But -I’ll loosen your tongue yet, you dog!—A charming night!” quoth he aloud. -“Delightful last remembrance to carry away with one, is it not?” - -Herrick paused for an appreciable instant; then steadily took up his way -again, still in silence. - -“I presume you leave to-morrow?” pursued the elder man. “Our good -host——” - -“You, I presume,” interrupted Herrick, “intend to remain, at least in -the neighbourhood!” - -They were in the thickest shade of the shrubbery, but each knew the -other’s eye upon him. Their attitude, morally, was like that of men -fencing in the dark, feeling blade on blade yet never venturing a full -thrust. - -“You are right. I do not leave just yet. In truth, I have a transaction -to complete before I altogether withdraw from this delightful spot. But -you——” - -“I, sir?” echoed Luke, breathing quickly through his nostrils. - -“Oh, you——” Harcourt laughed good-humouredly, almost paternally. “I was -going, I declare, to commit the folly, unpardonable in my years, of -offering a young man advice. I was going to say, my good lad, that from -the poetic point of view, your visit here must have been so inspiring, -so, what shall I say? so eminently successful, that it would be a -thousand pities for you to prolong it. Disillusion,” he added, with a -light sigh, “swiftly follows upon joy.” - -Herrick chewed a thousand savage retorts, but let not one escape beyond -his clenched teeth. - -“You have doubtless a vast experience, sir,” he responded at last; and -the colonel was forced to admit in his own mind that his adversary was -stronger than he had deemed him. - -In this mood they reached the moat-bridge, and the full-spaced -moonlight. Then both paused, and, for the first time, saw each other -clearly. The imaginary rivals stood a moment and took stock of each -other’s tell-tale appearance. - -“By the Lord,” thought Colonel Harcourt, running his eye sardonically -over the dark stains on Herrick’s handsome evening suit, his tossed and -dishevelled hair, “it is all correct and complete! He’s had to come down -by the window! The deuce!... I who thought the situation would have -suited me!” He had another quiet laugh which enraged the youth almost -beyond endurance. For one voluptuous moment Herrick saw himself laying -this triumphant elderly Lothario at his feet. For every stain, for every -rent in that riding suit, for every stone scratch on those heavy -boots—brute beast, who could enter thus into his lady’s presence!—he -should feel the cuffing of an honest fist! Nor were Colonel Harcourt’s -next words likely to conduce to the young man’s self-control. - -“Most poetical Herrick,” he said, “you have lost your hat, and you are -in sad need of a brush!” - -“For the matter of that, sir, where is your hat? And as for requiring a -brush——” - -Then he clenched his fist, this time for a most deliberate purpose. The -situation was undoubtedly strained. Suddenly a piping voice drew their -attention to quite a new quarter.—Upon the other side of the moat-bridge -stood the quaint be-frilled, be-ringletted, tightly be-pantalooned -figure of Mr. Villars. And even as they gazed this worthy hobbled across -and came close to them, his face under the moonlight visibly quivering -with excitement. - -“My dear Harcourt! ... Luke, my poor lad!” - -They turned upon him like angry dogs disturbed in the preliminaries of a -private quarrel. The colonel’s somewhat precarious and thin-spread -geniality was not proof against this witness of his inexplicable plight. - -“My good friends,” pursued Villars, the mystification on his countenance -giving way to a gloating delight as he looked from one to the other, -“what has happened? This has been indeed a night of adventures! We -thought you had gone to Bath, Colonel. Luke, lad, the ladies have missed -you—at least some of them, he—he—he!” The skin of his dry hands crackled -as he rubbed them. “This is extraordinary. This is something quite -romantic, he—he!” - -“Mr. Villars,” interrupted Harcourt suddenly, “is it not time you were -in your beauty sleep, and your hair in curl papers?” - -He turned his broad back upon the inquisitive gentleman and fixed -Herrick for a couple of seconds with a hard straight look. - -“Colonel Harcourt,” cried the boy hotly in answer, “I am at your -service.” - -“Mr. Herrick,” returned the other, “you are an understanding youth. I -regret to be unable to respond just now as I should wish. But in a few -days perhaps—I have a good memory.” - -His tone was now as hard as his eye. He nodded towards the speechless -poet with a little wave of the hand that was full of significance. Then -without further noticing Mr. Villars, he turned on his heel and walked -away towards the trees where he was instantly swallowed in the black -shadows. - -As Herrick stood glaring after him into space, his wrist was seized and -a wrinkled eager face was thrust offensively close to his. - -“My dear boy, I know all about it—all about it. The Deyvil! But that was -a brilliant idea of yours to fox under that cloak. Her suggestion, eh? -Naughty boy. Lucky dog, he—he! But what about the colonel, eh? What? You -don’t mean to say the pretty widow has two——” - -In the great silence of this hour before the dawn the sound of a master -slap rang out sharp as a pistol shot; and the echo of it came back like -a jeer from the terrace walls. - - -“A raving lunatic,” said Villars to himself with wry lips, as he nursed -his cheek and blankly watched Herrick stride towards the house. -“Certainly not worth taking the least notice of!” - -Nevertheless, if that young man’s paper ever fell into his hands! - -But Herrick was taking to his rooms a heart heavy enough to have -satisfied even the financier’s vindictiveness. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - A SIMPLER’S EUTHANASIA - - Tired, he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er. - —POPE (_Essay on Man_). - - -Ellinor, after hastily donning a few garments, stole on light foot in -her visitors’ wake and reached the cross-door at the instant when, on -the other side, the key was being turned by Margery. There she waited in -the darkness until voices and footsteps had died away beyond, when, -feeling for the old disused bolt on the inside, she drew it into its -socket. Then she ran back to her own room. She had arduous work to -perform before Margery should have time to return round by all the -basement passages to the keep wing and resume her office of spy. She -had, by some means or other, to convey David back to his tower so that -none should ever know the truth of this night’s events—none but he and -she. - -How with her unaided strength she was to achieve this she did not stop -to consider: it must be done. As she re-entered the room it was a joyful -relief to find Barnaby kneeling on the floor beside Sir David.—Barnaby! -In the agitation of the night she had forgotten his presence. -Barnaby—the ideal silent helper. - -The dumb lad looked up, nodded, then pillowed his cheek on his hand, -closed his eyes, drew a few deep breaths in pantomime of sleep and -nodded again. She knelt down for a moment beside him and laid her hand -lightly on David’s brow and over his heart. It was in truth a deep, and -it seemed a healing, sleep. Then she rose to her purpose. And in a -shorter space of time than she had dared to hope, Barnaby with her help -had safely laid Sir David on the couch in the observatory. A pillow was -placed under his head, his furred cloak over his feet; and still he -slept like a tired-out soldier. - -After a quick look round, Ellinor closed the rolling dome and shut out -the sky, drew the heavy curtains before the door, and, satisfied that -all was as well as she could make it, was hurrying forth again when -Barnaby arrested her. - -He had been passive enough under her imperative demand for help, but -now, to her surprise, the old look of distress and pleading had returned -upon his face. Again he plucked her by the sleeve and gesticulated, then -stopped short, pointed to the sleeper, and once more made that gesture -of conveying something to his lips which he had repeated so often after -his attack on Lady Lochore that afternoon. - -Ellinor stood still, palsied by the lightning stroke that flashed into -her brain: she had divided the cup between David and her father! Now she -knew who it was Barnaby was seeking help for with such persistence. - -The space of time between the moments when she fled from David’s side -and reached the threshold of the laboratory was ever a blank in -Ellinor’s memory. She had no consciousness even of Barnaby’s piteous joy -at being at last understood, of the long passages, the steep, winding -stairs, down and ever down. She never knew that she had crossed Margery -coming up with lighted candle, and staring at them in blank amazement. -She only knew that, when she stood upon the threshold of the room that -had received her with so dear a welcome, there in his chair, under the -light of the lamp, sat Master Simon, his grey head fallen forward on his -breast. He seemed profoundly and peacefully asleep—just as she had left -David. But even before she had laid her hand on his forehead to find it -stone cold, she knew in her heart that her father was dead. - -Squatting on the old man’s knee, Belphegor gazed at her inquiringly with -yellow eyes. - - -Out of warm slumber, tinted like his books with rich and sober hues of -fawn and russet, with here and there a glint of faded gold, Parson -Tutterville was roused in the chill encircling dawn by a cry beneath his -windows—a wild and urgent cry that drew him from his down before he was -well awake: - -“Uncle Horatio, for God’s sake!” - -And as he thrust his night-capped head out of the casement, he asked -himself if he had not suddenly wandered into a terrible dream, for the -voice went on: - -“My father is dead, and David, for aught I know, is dying!” - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - THE TIME IS OUT OF JOINT - - “Thou Ghost,” I said, “and is thy name To-day?— - Yesterday’s son, with such an abject brow!— - And can To-morrow be more pale than thou?” - While yet I spoke, the silence answered: Yea, - Henceforth our issue is all grieved and grey.... - —ROSSETTI (_The House of Life_). - - -The morning after Master Simon’s death was filled for Parson Tutterville -with sadder and more responsible duties than any in his experience. -Before a stormy scarlet sun had well cleared the eastern line of the -hill he was standing with Mr. Webb (the country practitioner) by the -body of his life-long friend, and listening to the professional verdict -on the obvious fact. - -The medical man, a not particularly sagacious specimen of his order, who -had for many years treated Master Rickart’s pursuits with the contempt -of prejudice, discovered no specific symptoms of any known toxic, -declared the death to be perfectly natural and announced his intention -of so certifying it. This decision was, in the circumstances, too -desirable not to be accepted with alacrity. - -Leaving Ellinor at the head of the truckle-bed whereon lay the shrunken -figure with the waxen, silver-bearded face—the one so pitiably small -under the white sheet, the other so startlingly great with the peace of -the striving thinker who has attained Truth at last—the Doctor of -Divinity led the Doctor of Medicine away, and hurried him from the side -of the dead to that of the living patient. As he mounted the weary -stairs, his mind was uncomfortably haunted by the remembrance of -Ellinor’s haggard and wistful eyes, of her unnatural composure. She had -not shed a tear, though the rector’s own eyes had overflowed at the -sound of Barnaby’s sobs. With dry lips she had told him a brief, bald -story: - -“My father was making experiments all day with his new extract. I -divided the sleeping draught between him and David. Barnaby called me in -the night. I found my father dead. When I tried to rouse David, I could -not. He lies in a deep sleep in the observatory.” - -His insistent questions could draw no further detail from her. It was -almost like a lesson learnt off by heart; each time she replied in -exactly the same words. - -Mr. Webb, who had been almost brutally superficial upon the cause of his -old antagonist’s death, became extremely learned and involved over Sir -David’s case. But the parson, accustomed by his calling to the sight of -the sick, was happily able to see for himself that David’s sleep, though -abnormally profound, was restful; he promptly took it upon himself to -interfere when the doctor offered to proceed to blistering and -blood-letting as a rousing treatment. - -Somewhat unceremoniously he insisted on his withdrawal; and, returning -himself to the observatory, stood gazing at his friend for some time -before determining on the step of sending a post-boy into Bath for a -more noted physician. As the divine was thus pondering, David suddenly -opened his eyes, saw and recognised him, without surprise; smiled and -fell asleep again. And Dr. Tutterville felt greatly reassured. Whatever -the cup may have contained that Ellinor had divided between the -star-dreamer and the simpler, here it was evident that nature was -working her own cure and that no other physician was needed. - -Upon this the parson carefully piloted Dr. Webb out of the tower-wing -and delivered him to Giles to be ministered unto as the hour required. -Then he sent a note to his good lady, bidding her come and take up her -post by David’s couch until he could himself relieve her watch. His -heart was much eased. - -He was on his way to bring his consoling report to Ellinor, when, at a -corner of the passage, he heard his name called in a hoarse whisper, -and, looking round, beheld Lady Lochore, ghastly-faced, in her flaming -brocade dressing-gown. - -“How is it with——” she cried. Something seemed to click in her throat, -she could not pronounce the name. But Dr. Tutterville thought that her -twitching hand pointed towards the laboratory door. He shook his head. - -“Alas, I fear there is nothing to be done!” - -Her lips framed the word: - -“Dead!” - -Then she swayed and he had to uphold her. - -“Come, come!” said he soothingly, yet shuddering all over his -comfortable flesh to feel what skeleton attenuation lay between his -hands. “My dear child, do not give way to this. There is nothing, there -can be really nothing alarming about the passing away of one who has -attained the allotted span. Poor Simon!” - -She reared herself with extraordinary energy to fix eyes full of fierce -questioning upon him. He went on: - -“Thank God, I can quite reassure you about David—” - -“David!” - -She echoed the name with what was almost a shriek; then caught the end -of her hanging sleeve and thrust it to her mouth, as if to keep any -further sound from escaping. - -“Did you not know?” asked the rector. “We were in much anxiety, but -whatever noxious drug was——” he stopped unwilling to raise the question. - -He saw a terror come into those strange fixed eyes. Quite bewildered -himself, he proceeded again, trying to reassure the woman: - -“David’s in no danger, thank Heaven!” - -Dropping her hand, Lady Lochore turned upon the astonished rector a -countenance of such fury that he stepped back hastily as from a -madwoman. - -“Thank Heaven!” she repeated with a laugh, that made his blood run cold. -The next instant she turned and fled from him, once more stopping her -mouth with her sleeve; in spite of which the sound of her hysterical -mirth continued to echo back to him down the vaulted passage after she -had turned the corner. The rector remained lost in thought. - -“She is very ill—dying!” he told himself. “Lord, thy hand is heavy on -this house!” - -Even in the secrecy of his soul he was loth to search into the weird -feeling now encompassing him, that there was more than illness in Lady -Lochore’s face. - -The parson hoped that, under the reaction of the good news he brought -her, Ellinor might obtain the relief of tears. But in this he was -disappointed. - -“Thank you,” she said, in a whisper; and sat down again upon the bench -from which, upon his entrance, she had risen rigidly and as if bracing -herself for a final blow. Her clenched hands relaxed; while the left lay -passive on her knee, she began with the right absently to pat and fondle -the folds of sheet that lay over her father’s cold breast. - -Dr. Tutterville looked at her in puzzled silence. The action was full of -a woman’s tenderness, yet he intuitively felt that the thoughts behind -the faintly drawn brow, under the marble composure, were not occupied -with a daughter’s sorrow. He felt he had been denied a confidence of -vital importance. Strange things had taken place in the house, of which -he had yet no explanation. Gently he laid the warm comfort of his clasp -upon the woman’s hand and stayed its futile caress. - -“Dear child, what is it? Can I not help?” - -She started, and flung a swift look at his wise and grave face. There -came a sort of fear also in her eyes. Fear into the true eyes of -Ellinor! Then she fell back into her abstraction. - -“Thank you,” she repeated in a slow dreamy tone. “I can wait.” - -He was pondering over the inexplicable word, when a new call drew him to -other cares. “Two gentlemen,” a servant informed him, “had driven over -from Bath and were demanding to see Sir David. They had not seemed -satisfied on being told that Sir David was not well enough to receive -visitors.” Visitors for Sir David! So unwonted an event these ten years -that even the rector was moved to curiosity as he hastened to wait on -the callers. - -Pacing the library were found an elderly man of military bearing and -haughty countenance, in befrogged coat and smart Hessians, and a slight, -fair youth—in the extreme of the fashion, with an eyeglass on a black -ribband, miraculous kerseymeres, a velvet waistcoat embroidered with -gold and silver roses, and a fob with more seals and watches than any -one person could require. The elder stranger turned to the younger with -a sarcastic smile as the door opened; and then, with a slight bow, -addressed the new-comer. - -“Sir David Cheveral, I presume,” he began, and stopped short. - -His eyes rested in amaze upon the clerical silk hose; ran swiftly up to -the long clerical waistcoat, over its gentle undulation across the -unmistakable neckband, to stop at last with angry insolent stare upon -the clerical countenance, handsome, dignified and self-possessed despite -a fasting morning and unshaven chin. Then he flung another quizzical -look at the younger man and shrugged his shoulders; whereat the latter -gave vent to a shrill titter and vowed with a lisp that in all his life, -by gad, he had never come across anything so rich! - -“To whom have I the honour—?” asked Dr. Tutterville. - -“Before we waste our breath, sir, and take you away from the thoughts of -your next sermon, one word.” Thus the military gentleman, with the tone -of one in superior form of courtesy mockingly addressing an inferior -species. “Do you represent here Sir David Cheveral?” he asked. - -“Sir David,” said the parson, with that serene ignoring of impertinence -which is its best rebuke, “is unable this morning, either to receive -visitors himself or to instruct a delegate.” - -For a third time the visitors exchanged looks. - -“A curious indisposition, evidently,” remarked the elder, slapping his -Hessians with his cane. “Cursed curious!” - -“Deuced opportune, by gad!” added the younger. - -“No, sir,” said Dr. Tutterville, turning so suddenly and severely upon -the youth that he started back a couple of paces. “No, young man, not -opportune. There is death in this house, and the master of it is wanted -for more important matters than either you or your friend can possibly -have to communicate—I wish you good morning.” And he wheeled upon his -heel with an elastic bounce. - -Before he had reached the door, however, the strident voice of the -well-booted visitor arrested him: - -“Tis, of course, your trade, sir, to preach the peace. But the mere -gentleman is prejudiced in favour of honour being considered first. -However, if Sir David Cheveral, who cannot but have been prepared for -our visit, has deputed you in the interest of holy peace, perhaps you -will kindly bestow upon us now sufficient of your reverend time to -enable us to gather what form of apology Sir David——” - -The reverend Horatio again turned round, this time slowly, and showed to -this trivial sneering pair a Jove-like countenance, which the wrath of -natural humanity and the reprobation of the church combined to empurple. - -He allowed the weight of his silent rebuke to press upon them -sufficiently long for their grins to give place to looks of anger. Then -he spoke. And although under the silk meshes of his stockings the very -muscles were quivering with the intensity of his feelings, never in hall -or pulpit had the parson delivered himself to better effect. Yet his -discourse was extremely brief: - -“Gentlemen—forgive me if, not having the advantage of your acquaintance, -I am forced to address you thus indeterminedly—as regards the honour of -Sir David Cheveral, my kinsman: - - _Falsus Honor juvat et mendax infamia terret - Quem nisi mendosum et mendacem?_ - -You may possibly fail to follow me. I will translate liberally: The -dog—aye, and the puppy—may bark at the moon, it will not affect her -brightness.... As regards an apology, I will take upon myself to allow -you to convey this one to your principal, whoever he may be, convinced -from what I know of Sir David that he will not repudiate the form of -it:—If, as I gather, he is called upon to give a lesson in honourable -dealing to some friend of yours, he regrets having to postpone that duty -for a short while. The delay, allow me to assure you, will but the -better enable him to fulfil his part when the time comes. You will find -paper and all that is necessary upon yonder table. You can write your -communication to Sir David, and I will undertake to see that it is -delivered at a fitting moment.” - -“’Pon my soul,” said the elder ambassador, turning to his satellite as -the door closed upon the clergyman’s dignified exit—“that’s a game old -cock!” - -“Dog! by Jove—aye, and puppy!” growled the younger man. - -On the other side of the oak the rector had halted, rubbing his -unusually bristly chin, and uncomfortably mindful of certain remarks -from the still small voice within concerning next Sunday’s sermon that -was to be upon the beatitude: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” - -“I will change my text,” thought the rector. “It were a sorry thing for -a scholar and a clergyman if there were no issues from such accidental -straits! ‘Ye shall smite them hip and thigh!’ Yes, that will do. That -will meet the case.” - -The excellent gentleman had scarcely settled this delicate point with -his conscience when he was intercepted by Mrs. Geary. The lady was in a -high state of indignation, first at a death having actually been allowed -to take place in a house where she was guest, secondly and especially at -Lady Lochore having locked herself up in her own apartments and rudely -denied her admittance. She now demanded instant means of departure for -herself and her daughter; for her man and her maid. This the rector, -with joy, promised to provide forthwith; and even suggested that the -remaining gentlemen of the party might make use of the same conveyance -with both pleasure and profit to all concerned. But even as he was -congratulating himself upon an easy riddance of at least one difficulty, -he was plunged into a far deeper state of perturbation by a most -unexpected word: - -“Mr. Herrick has already gone,” sniffed Priscilla, who stood at her -mother’s elbow. Her face was swollen with crying; she spoke in a small -vindictive voice which drew the parson’s attention to her in mild -surprise. - -Mrs. Geary tossed her head: - -“I am glad to hear it,” she remarked icily, “and I am surprised you -should have suggested his accompanying us.” - -“My dear madam,” protested the rector, who found the look of meaning in -the lady’s protuberant eye exceedingly discomforting. “My dear madam?” - -“After last night’s scandal,” said she in her deepest bass. - -“Last night’s scandal!” he echoed. - -“Hush!” she cried, “I will not have the innocence of my child further -contaminated——” - -“Contaminated, madam!” - -“Contaminated, sir! Ask Mrs. Marvel, Dr. Tutterville! Ask your niece!” - -She brushed past, hustling Priscilla before her. - -“A most unpleasant female,” thought the parson, endeavouring to dismiss -Mrs. Geary from his mind. But she had left a disturbing impression, -which was presently to be heightened. In response to a message, -courteous, but firm, informing him at what hour the chaise would await -him, Mr. Villars next presented himself before the rector and -interrupted him in the midst of some of his sad business details. - -“Sir?” said the parson, at the same time arresting by a gesture the -withdrawing of the bailiff with whom he was then in consultation. “In -what can I be of service?” - -“My dear Dr. Tutterville, I came to offer my services to you.” - -“You are vastly obliging, Mr. Villars. The best service friends can -render a house of mourning is to leave it to itself.” - -“Sad business—sad business this! Deyvilish!” - -“Good-bye, sir, I trust you may have a pleasant journey. Good-bye.” - -“One word, dear and reverend sir. How is—how is Mrs. Marvel?” - -“Bearing up fairly well, I thank you.” - -“I am rejoiced. Rejoiced. After so many emotions! Ah, I was going to -suggest that it might perhaps be of some advantage, some advantage, -perhaps, to Mrs. Marvel, were I to defer my departure for a day or two. -I would gladly do so if——” - -“I cannot conceive,” interrupted Dr. Tutterville, “any circumstance that -would make this probable.” - -Mr. Villars hemmed meaningly, looked at the bailiff’s stolid -countenance, and winked importantly at the rector. But as the latter -remained unresponsive, Mr. Villars proceeded with a point of acrimony in -his tone: - -“No doubt Mrs. Marvel has already given satisfactory explanation of last -night’s——” - -“Sir,” interposed Dr. Tutterville, opening the study door, “you force me -to remark that my time is valuable.” - -“Your wife’s niece, sir, I understand.” - -“Mr. Villars, the chaise will be ready in half an hour.” - -“Dr. Tutterville, you are making a mistake. I might have been of some -use. Of use, sir, as a witness, in this unfortunate scandal——” - -“Mr. Villars, I am a clergyman, and this is a house of mourning. But——” - -Mr. Villars slipped suddenly like an eel through the half-open door; for -there was something ominously unclerical both in the parson’s eye and in -the twitching of his right hand. But as Horatio Tutterville sat down to -his table and beckoned once more to the bailiff, the word scandal -weighed heavily on his heart. - - -Half an hour later, the comforting vision of Madam Tutterville’s round -countenance rose upon his cold distress like a ruddy sunrise over a -winter scene. But, though she brought him upon a fair tray, crowned with -a most fragrant aroma, restoratives for the inner man as well as -excellent tidings of her patient in his tower, she had a further budget -of news which was to add considerably to the burden of his day. - -“My dear doctor,” she said with effusion, and for once unscripturally, -“I came the instant I received your note. David is sleeping like a lamb. -You need have no anxiety there. I shall instantly return to him. But -there is no use in the world in your making yourself ill too. You were -off without bite or sup this morning, and not one has thought of making -you so much as a cup of tea! The world is a vastly selfish place, and I -am surprised at Ellinor. Drink this coffee, my dear doctor. I have -prepared some likewise for David—’tis a sovereign restorative. Nay, and -you must eat too.” - -The rector smiled faintly. The prospect was in sooth not ungrateful. And -now that his attention was drawn to it, the unusual vacuity within -became painfully obvious. - -“Excellent Sophia!” he murmured. - -Her coffee was always incomparable. It may be a moot point whether, in -moments of man’s trouble, the woman who ministers to the -creature-comforts is not the truer helpmate than the transcendental -consoler. - -Madam Tutterville watched her lord partake in silence. That in itself -was a notable thing. She showed little of her usual satisfaction in his -appetite; and that was ominous. Her whole person was clouded over with -an anxiety which could not be attributed to her brother’s death; a trial -indeed she had promptly dismissed with two tears and one text. As soon -as the rector appeared sufficiently fortified, Madam Tutterville drew a -deep breath; no more odious task could be assigned to her than that of -having to bring trouble to her Horatio. - -“It is my duty to tell you, doctor, that there have been several calls -for you this morning. I went through the village to ascertain for myself -and I found indeed some cases of serious illness. The widow Green died -suddenly last night. Joe (the hedger) has gone raving mad; it took four -men to bind him with ropes and lock him in a barn. I heard his screams -myself. Mossmason seems struck with a kind of palsy. Penelope Jones and -old——” - -“In God’s name,” cried the reverend Horatio, springing to his feet, -“stop, woman, or I shall go crazy myself! What can have happened? How -have we all sinned against Heaven to be thus stricken upon the same -day!” - -Madam Tutterville pursed her mouth for an awful whisper: - -“They say,” she breathed, “that poor Simon went all round the place -yesterday with some of his dreadful little bottles.” - -The rector clapped his hands on his knees: - -“Then have we indeed been mad to let him have his way so long!” For an -instant the learned man looked helplessly at his wife: “What is to be -done?” - -“A doctor,” she murmured. - -“A doctor—Sophia, you’re a woman in a thousand. Not that noodle we’ve -had here just now, but the best opinion from Bath. I shall despatch a -post-boy. My poor simple flock!” - -He had reached the door when she caught him by the skirts of his coat. - -“They are raging against poor Simon in the village, and against Ellinor. -It might well end in a riot. Had you not better warn constables and the -headborough?” - -He turned upon his heel in fresh dismay. Then resuming courage: - -“Nay, nay, I must see what I can do myself first!” - -But Madam Tutterville looked unconvinced. - -“I believe they would tear Ellinor in pieces, were she to go out among -them to-day. I have had to warn her. Horatio—Horatio, have you seen -Ellinor?” - -Dr. Tutterville nodded. For some undefined reasons he would have given -worlds not to be obliged to discuss Ellinor just now. He tried to slip -his portly person through the door, but the hand of his spouse was still -restraining. - -“Do you think she could have been given any of that dreadful stuff too? -She is so strange in her manner. And the servants are saying such -extraordinary things—not that I would allow them to do so before me—but -I could not help hearing.” - -With one mute look of reproach the rector wrenched himself away. - -“Lord, Lord,” he was saying to himself in a grim spirit of prophecy, as -he hurried towards the stables: “There will be but too much time I fear -by and by, for the drawing to light of poor Ellinor’s affairs whatever -they may be.” - -Love is the crown of life: a life without love is a life wasted. Not -necessarily must the love that crowns be that of lovers: love of saint -for God, of soldier for captain, of comrade for comrade, of student for -master, of partisan for King; or, again, love for the abstract object, -of artist for art; of patriot for country, of philanthropist for the -cause, of seekers for science—one such great love in a life is -sufficient to fill it to the brim, to absorb all its energy. But how few -are capable of the passion that shall crown them heroes or saints, -leaders of thought or of men! Though every man and every woman avidly -claim to possess in the full the power of natural love, _the real lover -is a genius_. And genius, of its essence, is rare. To nearly all it is -given to strum the tune, to how few is it given to bring forth the full -harmony! - -Ellinor had one of those rare natures especially designed for the -heights and the deeps of love. It had been for many years her curse that -some indefinable charm, quite apart from her beauty and strength, -should, wherever she went, make her the desire of men’s eyes. But she -herself had passed as untouched by the flame, through her too early -marriage and the ordeals to which she had been recklessly exposed, as -true gold through the test-furnace. - -Now, like a wave that has been gathering from the fulness of the ocean’s -bosom, the great waters had broken over her and were sweeping her on. - -As she sat by her father’s body she tried to force the image of her loss -upon her mind—in vain. One single idea absorbed her; the whole energy of -her being was with David. Anon she recalled every instant of his -fantastic wooing of the previous night. Anon she would be seized with an -agony of terror about his present condition. Again she would float away -in a vague warm dream of the moment when he should awaken.... Awaken and -remember! People addressed her, and she answered mechanically; but, even -while answering, forgot the speaker’s presence. - -When Madam Tutterville came to conduct her to her room that night, -Ellinor was aware that she had walked through a group of whispering and -pointing servants; and she was indifferent. She felt that the good lady -herself was looking at her with strange, anxious gaze; and she merely -smiled vaguely back. Her soul was in the tower. - -Madam Tutterville wore a grave countenance. - -“Have you nothing to say to me, Ellinor?” she asked at length. - -Ellinor hesitated a second; she wanted to beg for a share in the watch -by David’s side; wanted to hear repeated once more the last reassuring -news. But the deeper the passion the more closely the woman draws the -veil about her; she could not even speak his name. - -“Nothing, dear aunt,” she answered. - -Madam Tutterville shook her head in troubled fashion, sighed and -withdrew. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - TREACHERIES OF SILENCE - - ——Slander, meanest spawn of Hell, - And woman’s slander is the worst...! - —TENNYSON (_The Letters_). - - -On the following morning Margery drew the curtains of Lady Lochore’s bed -and looked down upon her. - -It was ten o’clock, and not even the barred shutters, not even the heavy -hangings, could keep shafts of sunshine from piercing through. Lady -Lochore wanted to shut out the light and the day and the world: whatever -the news might be that the morning was to bring, whether of life or of -death, they were fearful to her. And now, though she knew well enough -whose eyes were fixed upon her, she feigned sleep. Margery, on her side, -perfectly aware of the pretence, drew a stool with ostentatious -precautions to the bedside, sat down and waited. But the feeling of -being watched became quickly intolerable. Lady Lochore rolled petulantly -over on her pillows. - -“What in God’s name do you want? Great heavens, one would imagine that -you at least would know better than to disturb me!” - -“My lady,” cooed Margery, “Sir David is awake.” - -Lady Lochore sat bolt upright and, under the thin cambric and lace that -fell in such empty folds over her bosom, the sudden leaping of her heart -was visible. - -“Awake!” - -“Yes, my lady—awake and up. I thought it my duty to let your ladyship -know.” - -“You have seen him! You——?” - -A horrible hope danced like a flame in her eyes; but even to Margery she -dared not speak the question that would make it patent. - -“Quite himself, yes, my lady,” went on the steady tones, answering as -usual the unspoken thought. There was a lengthy silence. Then Margery -began again: “Whatever drug Mrs. Marvel gave Sir David, it has done him -good, my lady. I’ve not known Sir David look so well, nor speak so dear -and sensible since before his—his great illness.” - -Mrs. Nutmeg had respectfully shifted her gaze from her ladyship’s -countenance to a knot of ribbons at her ladyship’s breast. But, -nevertheless, Maud Lochore felt that her criminal soul was being -mercilessly laid bare. - -“Leave me alone,” she said faintly, leaning back on her pillow and -turning her head away. - -“I think your ladyship had better get up,” said Margery Nutmeg, and -stood her ground. - - -By the time Maud Lochore, robed and tired, had sailed from her -apartments, with head set high and determined step, to seek her brother, -the housekeeper was able to retreat to her own room with the feeling -that the morning’s eloquence of insinuation had not been altogether -wasted. What though Fortune still seemed to favour Mrs. Marvel, the path -of that would-be mistress of Bindon might yet, after all, be made rough -enough to trip her. - - -Sir David turned his head as the door of the library opened, and Lady -Lochore was involuntarily brought to a halt in her indignant entry. -Those clear eyes! The steady, peaceful gaze was that of a man looking -upon health returned after long sickness. Margery was right. She was -right! Sir David was himself again; and the coiling, twisting serpents -within her seemed to nip at her heart in their thwarted fury. Hers had -been the hand to fill this magic cup! She could have laughed aloud for -the irony at it. Then there came a second thought, lashing her with an -unknown terror! Was God himself against her, that the poison which had -uselessly brought death and madness to so many besides old Simon, should -here have turned to a healing remedy? - -Sir David and the rector had been engaged in earnest converse for the -last hour. The matter of the challenge had first demanded their -attention. Sir David had, with a contemptuous smile, perused the letter -left on his table, had listened to Dr. Tutterville’s account of the -interview without comment and briefly dismissed the subject with the -announcement of his intention to send a messenger to Bath that day. His -whole treatment of the affair was such as vastly pleased the -old-fashioned spirit of the parson—a duly shaven parson, this morning, -who could not keep the beam of satisfaction from his glance every time -it rested upon his companion. - -And yet it was a rare complication of troubles they had to face. Three -deaths in the village, besides that of the poor old alchemist himself; a -case of madness, and one or two of minor brain disturbance. And a -general threatening resentment throughout the parish. Good cause indeed -had the spiritual and the secular masters of Bindon for consultation -together; little cause had they to welcome interruption. But both -gentlemen rose with due courtesy; and while the parson placed a chair, -Sir David took his sister’s hand and led her to it, inquiring upon her -health. - -She looked up at him without speaking, an exceedingly bitter smile on -her lips. Yes, there was no doubt about it: her brother stood before -her, master of himself, master of his fate once more. - -In the silence, the two men exchanged a glance as upon some pre-decided -arrangement. Then the rector spoke: - -“These sad events have necessarily postponed your departure; but, -believe me, my dear Maud, you will do well, and it is also David’s -opinion, to delay it no longer than this afternoon.” - -Lady Lochore clutched the arms of her chair. - -“We anticipate some excitement among the villagers,” pursued the parson. -“Then there is the ceremony to-morrow. You are unfortunately in no state -of health to risk painful emotions. And, in fact, David would not be -doing his duty did he not insist upon your being safely out of the way.” - -Lady Lochore rose stiffly. - -“And Mrs. Marvel?” - -The rector fell back a pace; the hissing word had struck him like a -stone. But Sir David stepped forward, a light flame mounting to his -brow. - -“Does David consider it his duty to have Mistress Marvel also removed -from this dangerous house?” she inquired, and her voice broke on a -shrill laugh. - -“Maud,” said her brother, almost under his breath, “have a care!” - -But Lady Lochore had let herself go; the serpents were hissing, ready to -strike. Glib words of venom fell from her lips: - -“His duty! Touching solicitude all at once for my humble self! ’Tis -vastly flattering, my God! What a model host, so preoccupied about his -guests! Excellent Rector, is this your work? A conversion you may well -be proud of: but is it not a little abrupt for security?” A hard cough -here cut the thread of her tirade. And the acrid taste of blood, -loathsome reminder of doom, brought her suddenly from irony to open -rage: “Yes, turn your sister out of the house! Turn your flesh and blood -from your doors! But house the wanton, cherish the abandoned wretch that -dares to call herself our kin, that brought under Bindon’s roof -practices that would disgrace Cremorne! Keep Mrs. Marvel, Sir David -Cheveral, put her tarnished honour in our mother’s place and you—and -you—you sanctimonious old man, give the blessing of the church upon that -degrading union! Oh, Mistress Marvel is a young, comely woman, and David -is indeed converted! This time, I am glad to see, he has been more -practical than with his other—lady!” - -“Silence!” - -It was not that the word rang very loud, or that Sir David’s mien was -threatening; but, as she herself had grasped the truth a little while -ago, that he was master. It seemed to her now as if she must wither -before him. Her voice, her laugh sank into the silence bidden. Then Sir -David turned: - -“She is mad!” he said, addressing the rector, and made a gesture with -his hand as if dismissing a subject painful in the abstract, but -unimportant to himself. - - -His sister’s glance followed his movement to alight upon Dr. -Tutterville. Then the cowering snakes reared their crests again. If he -had to be slain for it, the parson could not have kept a look of -perturbation, almost of guilt from his countenance; and the woman was -quick to see it. She pointed her finger at him: - -“Ask the reverend gentleman if I am so mad. Ask him if some account of -the virtues of his niece has not already reached his consecrated ears! -Oh, brother David, the mere stretching of a cloak is not quite -sufficient to hide scandal.” - -Scandal!—that evil word again! The more burningly it stung the parson, -the more gallantly he resisted the doubt. - -“Maud,” said he firmly; “hearing is one thing, believing, thank Heaven, -is another. Those who would assail Ellinor Marvel’s honour, I should be -inclined to rebuke much more severely than David has done. Madness? No, -Lady Lochore, but deliberate falsehood, the fruit of Envy, Malice and -all uncharitableness.” - -“Ellinor Marvel’s honour!” said Sir David. He repeated the words -steadily, then threw up his head and slightly uplifted his eyes and -looked away as if fixing some entrancing vision. - -Health of body and health of mind had, it seemed, been restored to him -by the cup of strange mixing. The morbid doubt, the fever, the long -oppression—all were gone. He had faith where he loved. The expression of -his face drove the furious woman nigh to the madness he had proclaimed. - -“Ellinor Marvel’s honour!” she repeated in her turn, “the honour of a -woman, who receives her lover in her room at midnight!” - -The rector gave a short groan; it might have been horror or indignation. -Sir David merely turned to stare at his sister; then he smiled in -contemptuous pity. - -“Oh, David, David!” cried Lady Lochore, shaking in an agony of laughter -and rage, “whom do you think to take in with these hypocritical airs, -this ostrich concealment? It is, of course, your interest to hush things -up. Naturally! But—” - -He would not permit her to finish: - -“Naturally it is my interest,” he said, hotly, “to defend a woman whom I -know to be as innocent of what you accuse her as I am myself; in whose -honour I believe as in my own.” - -In the diplomacy of life, how often does the course of fate turn to -unexpected channels upon the mere speaking of one word. At the strenuous -instant of the conflict of purpose, how far-reaching may be the -consequence of one phrase, perhaps pronounced too soon, or left unsaid -too long! - -Had David not thus cut short the speech on his sister’s lips, her very -next word would have rendered the object of her hatred the best service -that at such a strange juncture could have been devised; and she would -at the same time have dashed for ever the success of her last desperate -scheme. The revealing accusation that still hung on her tongue was -barely arrested in time. With her familiar gesture, she had to clap her -hand to her mouth. - -“Why, great God! He knows nothing! he remembers nothing! First madness, -then long, long sleep! Old man, I thank thee for that fantastic drug!” - - -Over her gagging hand Lady Lochore’s eyes danced with a flame so fierce -and unholy that the bewildered and unhappy parson shuddered. He felt -instinctively as if the meshes of the web which seemed to have been -skilfully flung round Ellinor were tightening in remorseless hands. The -very deliberation, the sudden calmness which presently came over Lady -Lochore filled him with a yet deeper foreboding. She dropped her hand, -stood a moment, tall and straight and dignified, as if wrapt in thought, -her countenance composed: a noble looking woman, in spite of the ravages -of disease, now that the unlovely mask of fury had fallen from her. Then -she turned to Sir David, who had deliberately seated himself at his -papers as if for him the discussion were ended, and said: - -“Since neither brother nor kinsman believe my word worthy of credit, I -am forced to bring other testimony—much as I should wish to spare myself -and this house the humiliation.” - -She stretched her hand to the bell-rope, and the parson upon an impulse -of weakness for which he immediately chided himself, stretched out his -own to arrest her. But David, without looking up from his writing, said -gently: “Let her call up whom she will.” And Lady Lochore demanded Mrs. -Nutmeg’s appearance. - -“My friends,” she added, after a spell of brooding silence, once more -addressing her brother, “have been so summarily turned out of this house -that their immediate evidence is unobtainable. A letter to Bath, -however, would produce their attendance or their answer by writing if——” - -But at this point Margery knocked at the door. Slowly Sir David looked -up: - -“I may as well tell you at once,” said he, “that were you to fetch -witnesses from the four corners of the globe, there is but one person’s -word which I would be willing to take in this matter—and hers I do not -intend to ask for.” - -The rector gazed in astonishment upon the determined speaker. This -confidence, he thought, showed almost like a new phase of eccentricity; -it was as exaggerated in its way as the previous universal distrust of -humanity and more likely to be followed by a reaction. Sir David had but -shortly before informed him that since the moment when he had received -the sleeping draught from Ellinor’s hand, he had not met her. His -attitude seemed the more inexplicable. But Dr. Tutterville was now all -anxious to clear up this strange matter; for, since Lady Lochore’s -excited entrance upon the scene, he had become convinced that Ellinor -was the victim of some cunning conspiracy, and was increasingly ashamed -of his own previous misgivings. - -“Nay, David,” he cried, interposing sudden authority, “that is not fair -to Mrs. Marvel. She must have the opportunity of self-vindication; she -must be urged to speak that word which we indeed do not need, but -without which, slanderous tongues will continue to wag. See, yonder she -goes,” he added, pointing through the window. - -David then, without a word, rose and went to the open casement; he -beckoned and called: - -“Ellinor! Can you come to me?” - -Margery Nutmeg took a few humble steps aside and remained in a shadowy -corner. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - GONE LIKE A DREAM - - ... My sweet dream - Fell into nothing. - Ah, my sighs, my tears, - My clenched hands;—for, lo! the poppies hung - Dew-dabbled on their stalk, the ousel sung - A heavy ditty, and the sullen day - Had chidden herald Hesperus away - With leaden looks. - —KEATS (_Endymion_). - - -Ellinor entered the room. - -“The heartless wretch!” thought Lady Lochore, with the marvellous -inconsequence of hatred, “her old father lying dead and she in all these -colours!” - -But the next glance showed her that the only colours Ellinor wore were -those that cannot be doffed at will—gold of hair, rose of cheek, blue of -eye and dazzling white of throat. The flower had opened wide to the sun -of great love! The presence of death itself cannot rob the living thing -of the beauty of its destined hour. - -Ellinor’s arms, moreover, were full of branching leaves and strange -blossoms. She had had the womanly thought to lay upon her father’s body -a wreath made of the plants he had loved. Purple and mauve, crimson and -orange, with foliage of many greens, it was a sheaf of rich hues she -held against her black dress; and she seemed to bring with her into the -room all the breath of the Herb-Garden and all its imprisoned sunshine. - -She had walked straight in, seeking and seeing no one but David. He was -still standing and, as she halted he moved nearer to her. For a while -they were silent, gazing on each other. And her beauty seemed to grow -into brighter and brighter radiance.—Every woman is a goddess once at -least in her life. But Ellinor stood upon her Olympian height but for a -short moment. - -“Mrs. Marvel!” - -At the first sound of Lady Lochore’s voice, at the sight of Margery’s -face, she fell from her pinnacle, suddenly and piteously. Why were -these, her enemies, here, and why had she been convened into their -presence? Why did the rector sit there like a judge and wear that uneasy -countenance? Her brain whirled. It could fasten on no settled thought. -But in the great crisis of life what woman trusts to thought when she -can feel! Ellinor felt:—this bodes evil! Yet David had looked at her -with beautiful eyes of faith and gladness. Her fate was in his hands, -what then had she to fear? She turned her glance again upon him. In -spite of her boding heart she trusted. - -“Mrs. Marvel,” said Lady Lochore. “I have considered it my duty to speak -to my brother on the subject of the painful episode of the other night.” - -Ellinor crimsoned to the roots of her hair, to the tips of her fingers. -She dropped her eyes. Yet in the midst of all the agony of woman’s -modesty outraged before the man she loved, there remained a deep -sweetness of anticipation in her heart. She waited, motionless, for the -touch of his hand, the sound of his voice that should proclaim her his -bride. She waited. The silence enveloped her like a pall. Lady Lochore -laughed and the blood rushed back to Ellinor’s heart. - -“David!” - -There was everything in that cry, everything in the look she cast upon -him, to appeal to a man’s chivalry, to his honour, to his love: the -pride of the innocent woman, the reproach of the wronged woman, the -trust of the loving woman. And David spoke: - -“You need say nothing, Ellinor, need not condescend to answer.” - -Alas, what vindication was this! - -“Does Mrs. Marvel deny then,” resumed Lady Lochore, “that she was -discovered two nights ago——” - -David lifted his hand and his voice in a superb unison of anger: - -“Be silent. It is I who deny it! And let that suffice!” Then he went on -rapidly, with more self-control yet still vibrating with indignation: “I -know this to be a base lie, an iniquitous conspiracy. Your motives, my -poor sister, are but too obvious! Your treatment of our kinswoman who -has brought comfort and gladness to my house, has been odious from the -first moment of your uninvited presence here. This is the climax! Now -hear my last word:—not only is Mrs. Marvel, as I know her, incapable of -desecrating the hospitality she honours me by accepting, but she is -incapable of harbouring an unworthy thought.” - -David’s countenance was lit by every generous impulse. Yet each -vindicating word fell upon Ellinor’s ear like the sounds of her death -sentence—death to both honour and happiness! A chasm was opening before -her feet, the depths of which she could not yet fathom. One thing alone -was dawning upon her moment by moment, with more inexorable light—_David -did not know! All this had been but a dream to him._ And even as a dream -he remembered nothing. _He did not remember!_ Unconsciously she repeated -to herself, even as Lady Lochore awhile before: _Madness and then -sleep!_ He knew nothing of his own vows of love to her, he knew nothing -of his own words of passion! _He did not know; and her lips were -sealed!_ - -At first Lady Lochore wondered whether David were playing a deep and -subtle game; whether the two were in collusion. But a glance from his -transfigured countenance to Ellinor’s stricken look, the sight of the -rector’s evident perturbation, her own knowledge of the crystal truth of -her brother’s character, promptly dispelled the doubt. The game was -hers! - -“All well and good,” said she. “Your cavalier attitude, most romantic -David, is fit to grace the pages of the latest Scotch novel! But allow -me to point out that it will not pass current in the every day world. -Besides the fact that these eyes of mine and those of my friends beheld -a scene in Mrs. Marvel’s room the like of which our honourable house -never sheltered before, Margery Nutmeg can tell you how she heard an -adventurous climber mount to Mrs. Marvel’s window. How Joyce, your -head-keeper, met Colonel Harcourt, skulking through the park at -midnight—” - -Dr. Tutterville started. David made no movement, but something in his -very stillness showed that the words had struck him. - -“Mr. Villars, again, could have informed you, how he came upon Mr. -Herrick and Colonel Harcourt brawling on the bridge an hour later, both -in torn garments and as highly incensed one against the other, as only -rivals——” - -“Needless, all this,” said Ellinor, in a low clear voice. She had flung -back her head and stood, white as death, but composed, holding herself -as proudly as a queen. “I deny nothing. It would be useless to deny, did -I wish it, what Lady Lochore and her friends and Mrs. Nutmeg have seen -for themselves.” She paused, then resumed, gaining firmness in voice and -manner: “I give you the truth, in so far as I am myself concerned. Judge -of me as you will. Barnaby escaped from his room after my father had -locked him up, climbed up to my window, where I let him in—” - -“Barnaby,” exclaimed the parson with a loud burst of relieved laughter. -“’Pon my word, a pretty storm in a tea-cup, Maud Lochore!” - -Lady Lochore grew grey, save for the bloody fingerprint of death upon -either cheek. - -“And was it Barnaby,” she hissed, “whom you covered with your cloak, to -hide him from our eyes?” - -Ellinor flung a glance of a sad, yet lovely self-abnegation upon David -before she answered: - -“No, it was not Barnaby.” - -For all its melancholy ring of renunciation the word could not have -fallen from her lips in a tone of more exquisite sweetness had it been -an avowal of love in the ear of the only one who had a right to demand -it. The love that makes the willing martyr, as well as the pride that -can face ignominy, had enabled her to surmount the failing of her heart -over this bitterness. Was she not bound to silence by a thousand -shackles of loyalty, of woman’s reticence, of elementary delicacy, of -love for him? The sacrifice was for him. He must never know that it was -his madness that had wronged her in the world’s eyes. Her hand could not -deal this blow to his fastidious honour. _Moreover, had it not been all -a dream?_ How did she know that, waking, he could love her as he had -loved her in his dream? Nay, his very defence of her, his calmness and -freedom from jealousy seemed to her aching heart to argue a mere -friendliness incompatible with passion. Thus for herself, too, her pride -could endure to stand with tarnished fame before him, but could not -stoop to demand the reparation she knew he would so quickly have -offered. She went on, steadily ignoring alike the rector’s shocked -distress, Lady Lochore’s triumph and Margery’s insolent silence. - -“After Barnaby had taken refuge with me—some one, a man, entered my -room. He did not know what he was doing. And because of that I shall -never tell his name.” - -Lady Lochore quailed before the high soul and generous heart of the -woman she was ruining; and quailing, abashed, shamed in her own -tempest-tossed desperate nature, hated her but the more. - -The poor rector clacked his tongue aloud in dismay, chiding himself for -his over-zeal. He had meant to straighten matters, and, lo, they were -more inextricably knotted than ever! Here was a mystery to which he had -not the beginning of a clue. No man of his mind and heart could look -upon Ellinor and deem her a wanton as she now stood; and yet both her -self-accusation and her reticence proclaimed how deeply she must love -the unknown man she could thus shield with her own honour. Was this the -end of all their fond secret hopes for Bindon! - -Now David gazed at Ellinor almost as if the old dream-palsy had returned -upon him. As in a dream, too, he seemed to see again some past picture -which had foretold this hour. Thus on the first day of her return to -Bindon had he seen her pass from sunshine and colour and brilliancy into -darkness; seen the goddess turn to a pale woman in a black dress. Was -this what his house had brought upon her! - -His eyes dilated with pity, his whole being seemed to become broken by -pity, given over to pity, till, for the moment, there was no room for -any other feeling. Pity of the man for the woman, of the strong for the -weak. He sank back into his seat and shaded his eyes with his hand. He -could not look upon that high golden head abased. - -But Ellinor had lost little of her proud bearing. Love is royalty, and -royalty can walk to the scaffold as if to the throne. - -“I cannot think,” she said with a pale smile, “that Lady Lochore can -have any further need of my testimony.” - -“Stay, stay!” cried Dr. Tutterville. “There is more in this than meets -the eye. Ellinor, you have let yourself be caught in some cunning trap!” - -“Uncle Horatio,” answered she, “you are right. Yes, things are not as -you think.” - -And upon this enigmatic phrase she left them. - - -Lady Lochore went straight up to her child. She told herself she was -extraordinarily happy. She had been providentially saved from fratricide -and yet had encompassed her end:—Ellinor’s position at Bindon had at -last been rendered untenable. And her boy’s inheritance was safe! She -hugged him, teased him, rollicked with him till he shrieked with joy. -But for all that her heart was well-nigh as heavy within her as it had -been upon her awakening; if she had not her brother’s death on her -conscience, it could not acquit her of all share in Master Simon’s -sudden end. David and he had shared the same cup—that was servant’s talk -all through the house. And how much did Margery know? That inscrutable -woman was now at her elbow; and the sleek and meaning words that fell -from her lips, the very feeling of her shadowy presence irritated the -guilty woman almost beyond bounds. Yet she could not, dared not, dismiss -this Margery. - - -David lifted a grave face from his shielding hands, looked at Dr. -Tutterville and then, arrested by a gesture the words brimming on the -elder man’s lips: - -“Hush! Do not let us discuss this now.” - -The parson, wondering, saw him sort his papers and lay them aside, then -ring the bell, and again send for Margery. Sir David looked at her for a -brief moment as she stood before him apparently wrapt in her usual smug -composure, but, by the twitching of her hands and the furtive working of -her lips, betraying some hidden agitation. - -“Margery Nutmeg,” said her master then, “in an hour you leave my house -and my service.” A sudden livid fury came over the woman’s face. But -David’s gesture, his determined speech bore down the inarticulate -protest that broke from her. “It is useless to attempt to make me alter -my decision. I know how you have considered me bound by promise to your -husband, and how you have traded upon it. That promise, in so far as I -consider it binding, I shall keep till you die. You shall receive fit -and sufficient maintenance from me. But in my house or upon my estate -you shall dwell no more.” He dismissed her with a wave of the hand, -merely adding: “If you present yourself at the bailiffs office in an -hour, you will receive your money. Go!” - -And Margery went, without another word. - -“Ah, David,” said the reverend Horatio admiringly, “had you but done -this earlier!” And in his heart was the thought, based upon too -unsubstantial ground to put it into words: “Then things would surely not -stand now at this pass!” - -Sir David made no reply. He did not even seem to hear. He was seated at -his writing table, inditing a letter of reply to Colonel Harcourt’s -friend. As he wrote, the crimson of a deep, slow-burning resentment -mounted to his face. - - -Lady Lochore’s enforced departure fitted in well enough in her mind with -the new turn of events. Now that Master Simon was dead, Ellinor’s -residence at Bindon became an impossibility so soon as she herself had -gone. To be sure Madam Tutterville might give her niece harbourage; but -Lady Lochore was quite satisfied that if she had failed to convince the -rector of Mrs. Marvel’s frailty the rector’s wife had been more easy to -deal with. Therefore she hurried on her preparations with a sick desire -to escape from surroundings charged with such ugly memories. Even as the -four horses drew the travelling chaise up to the door she stood ready in -the hall, feverishly hustling her servants. - -Sir David was there too, attentive to speed his sister’s parting, but -certes, with even less warmth than he had welcomed her arrival. She -spoke her bitterly sarcastic word of thanks. He answered by the cold -wish that her health might have been benefited, according to her hopes, -by her visit to her home of old. This time even the kiss upon the hand -was omitted. But as he was leading her across the threshold, her mood -changed hysterically: - -“David,” said she, in a panting whisper, “oh, no, you cannot let me go -like this! Some day you’ll thank me for having saved you ... for you are -saved a second time.” She could not keep the taunt out of her mouth. -“After all, I am your only sister, and this is the last time we shall -ever meet. I am dying!” - -“My only sister died to me ten years ago,” said David. His tone was -quite unmoved; and he added, almost in the same breath: “There is a high -wind rising, you had better wrap your cloak over your mouth.” - -She struck away in fury the hand that held hers, ran down the steps -alone, and sprang into the carriage, where, seizing the child, she held -him up at the window in a sort of vengeful mute defiance that, louder -than any shriek, spoke her secret meaning: “Fool, you shall not keep -this hated flesh and blood from ruling in your place some day!” - -As the wheels began to crunch round in the gravel, she suddenly became -aware of a dull grey face and black eyes looking upon her out of the -shade of the opposite seat. It was not her maid! A shudder ran through -her frame. She stared without speaking. - -But Margery’s voice was silky as ever: - -“Asking your pardon, my lady, I made so bold. Mamselle Josephine is in -the other coach. Sir David has dismissed me. But I knew your ladyship -would offer me a home and welcome, seeing that it is my devotion to your -ladyship that’s lost me my bread and my station in my old age. I made so -bold,” repeated Mrs. Nutmeg, and the veiled threat was all the more -awful to the listener because of the unemotional tone, “knowing your -ladyship’s heart as I know it.” - -“Mamma,” cried the spoilt child, “let me go! I don’t like your cold -hands!” - -And thus, with Nemesis by her side, Lady Lochore left Bindon-Cheveral -for the last time, and drove through the gathering storm on her speedy -way to die Valley of the Shadows. - - -Ellinor took her last look at her father’s face and laid the wreath of -herbs at his feet and a sprig of his Euphrosinum, fatal plant! upon his -breast. - -Madam Tutterville, in wifely solicitude for her Horatio’s unphilosophic -depression, had insisted on his returning with her to the rectory. -Without her, Ellinor could not remain at Bindon. But even had it not -been so, to abide as David’s guest would have been the one thing to -render her trouble unbearable. And there was nothing in the last cruel -details that precede the returning of earth to earth to make her desire -to linger in the death-chamber. She, therefore, accepted her aunt -Sophia’s offer of hospitality. Had she not been all absorbed in her own -troubles the lady’s altered manner, and the rebuffingly Christian spirit -in which the invitation was offered, might have struck her painfully. -But she was past noticing such things. - -The falling dusk of that miserable day found her at the door of the -tower-wing, Barnaby at her side loaded with her modest baggage, -Belphegor ruffled and protesting under her arm. She was dry-eyed: there -is an arid misery the desolation of which no well-spring can relieve. In -this silent company she sallied out. - -A dumb boy, and a cat! After these months of full life, after her -gorgeous dream of happiness—this was all that was left her. The road -that had opened before her, alluring, fantastic almost in its promise, -had led to this desolation. - - -The Star-Dreamer sat by the open coffin in the laboratory, his head -bent, his hands clasped upon his knees, holding between them the sprig -of the Euphrosinum which he had absently taken from the heap of wild -flowers that lay on his old friend’s breast. He was absorbed in thought. - -A great silence was in the room erstwhile so filled with a thousand -minute sounds of restless energy. Extinct the hearth; extinct the -furnace which for over twenty years had glowed night and day; mute all -the little voices, cold the matras and crucibles, all as silent and as -cold, as extinguished as the once eager brain of their master. But the -watcher’s mind was seething with keen thoughts, busy sorrows. He had -lost her—she was gone! She who had come like a lovely vision to this -house when it was held as under a spell of twilight dreaming; who had -reanimated it with her own life; who had brought, as she had promised, -sunshine into its dusk, fresh air into its stagnation, sweetness where -the must had lain; she was gone from his sweet hopes, gone in sorrow and -shame! Her bright head dimmed as even now was his star under the clouds -that were gathering thick and thicker with the brooding storm. - -And he, the Star-Dreamer? He had been called back from his unnatural -life of solitude, step by step had been brought down from his height, -had been taught once more to see the fairness of earth, had been made to -feel the desire of the eyes, to hear the cry of his forgotten manhood: -all to the end of this vault, this chamber of death, this knowledge of -loss. Yet, no! She had once said to him in an unforgettable hour: -“Sometimes a harboured sorrow is only fancied, not real; and it may be -that real adversity must come to make us see it.” And now he felt that -she had been right. His reawakened virility was strong within him. True, -he had for a second time, and in middle life, been struck to the heart; -yet, strange working of Fate! the new sorrow seemed not only to drive -away the last remnant of the old, but actually to strengthen and arm him -again for the fight of life. Although from his long sleep he had carried -forth no conscious memory of a dream, that hour spent in Ellinor’s room -when, in the body’s weakness, his spirit had come so close to hers, had -left an ineffaceable stamp upon his mind. He had asked her, in trouble: -“Can I trust you?” She had answered him: “To the death,” and he had -believed. And now, though he had seen her stand self-accused before him, -he believed still. - -The crisis often heralds the cure. He was cured of his strange palsy of -mind, of his infirmity of purpose, of his sick melancholy. He was a -fighting man again in a world where everything must be fought for, above -all things happiness. Cured—aye, but too late! She, the joy he might but -a few weeks before have taken for his own, she had passed from his -gates. - -Cured, made strong again.... How? By what? In that soothing draught, of -whose nature he had known nothing, but which her own hand had prepared, -had she steeped a branch of that wondrous plant which held so many -unknown properties? Had that given him a new life and sanity while it -had brought death or madness to others? Ah, no! The transformation was -her own doing. She had found him weak and ignorant of the one beauty of -life, and left him strong, awakened. Awakened, but desolate. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - GREY DEPARTURE - - Here then she comes.—I’ll have a bout with thee: - Devil, or devil’s dam!... - Blood will I draw on thee—thou art a witch! - And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv’st! - —SHAKESPEARE (_Henry VI._) - - -The next morning, at an hour unwontedly early for such a ceremony, they -laid Master Simon’s remains to rest in the family vault. The discontent -in the village, aroused by the series of mishaps attendant on the -simpler’s last experiments and fostered of late by Margery’s subtle -calumnies, had been fanned to fury by her last round of farewell visits. -The death of the warlock himself had little effect in assuaging the -new-risen hatred which now was aimed at his living daughter. - - -It was a morning of weeping skies; a fine rain-shroud enveloped the -land; Bindon looked desolate enough to be mourning a mightier scion than -this poor eccentric old child. The creepers clung to the tower and the -ruins, like sodden garments. The blurred panes looked like tear-dimmed -eyes. The dripping flag of Bindon-Cheveral hung at half-mast, so limp -and darkened with wet that it might have been a funeral scarf. - -The ceremonial was performed before a congregation pitiable in its -tenuity. Beyond the sexton, the clerk, old Giles and sobbing Barnaby, -not another human being escorted the dead student to his last home, save -the narrow circle of his own kinsfolk. Not one of the many he had helped -in life, or of the many he had healed, could remember his debt of -gratitude, so little did the many lives he had saved weigh against those -few he had lost. - -Good Doctor Tutterville officiated with something less than his usual -dignity. He was painfully distracted. There were two or three raw graves -yawning, without, in the little wet churchyard, that felt to his kind -heart as if they had been dug into it. He was anxious too; his ear was -strained for the dreaded sound of angry voices breaking in upon the -sanctity of his dead. The words of the solemn service escaped his lips -in haste, and he breathed a sigh of relief when at last the great stone -was rolled back into its place and, the keys being returned to his own -possession, he knew his old friend’s remains were safe from desecration. - -When he emerged from the vestry with David beside him, both -instinctively looked round for Ellinor. But she was gone, and Madam -Tutterville, her round face for once the image of dissatisfaction, could -or would give them no information on the subject. Her high nostril and -short answer quite sufficiently indicated that she regarded Ellinor’s -departure and their curiosity concerning it as equally unbecoming. - -“No doubt you will find her at the rectory, if you wish,” she remarked -with a snort. - -But here old Giles, who had betaken his way back to the House—the -thought of his restored keys and the comfort of a glowing glass on such -a morning luring him to a sort of shuffling trot—returned hastily to the -church, emotion of a very different kind lending speed to his clogged -limbs: - -“They were up at the house,” he explained, panting, “a score of them, -and even more on the way! They were in the Herb-Garden; they had sworn -to leave standing neither stick nor leaf! They had broken into Master -Simon’s laboratory, laying about them like mad! They meant to leave no -bottle or powders of the sorcerer to poison any more of them!” - -Sir David and the rector looked at each other as the same thought -flashed into each brain: Ellinor! - -Then they started off running. It was a fearful possibility that the -daughter might have returned to either of her father’s haunts; and the -thought of the danger to which she was exposed amid an angry, ignorant -rabble was hardly to be framed in words. - - -But Ellinor had had but little time to bestow on the sensibility of -grief. - -An interview which her aunt had inflicted upon her the previous night -had taught her that the last day’s events had left her poorer even than -she had reckoned. Her hope had been to find a few days’ harbourage in -the rectory and the counsel of friends, before sailing further on the -bitter waters of life. She had hoped—God knows what a woman will hope, -so long as she is in the neighbourhood of her beloved! But Madam -Tutterville’s very first words had called her pride in arms. - -The lady had gathered good store of awful texts and apposite instances -wherewith to lace her discourse; and before a tithe of them had been -delivered, Ellinor, scarlet-faced and writhing, had felt herself sullied -in all her chastest instincts by the mere fact of listening. - -Madam Tutterville looked upon this case as well within her competence: -she had not consulted with her lord. But her self-sufficiency -overreached her purpose. It was little likely that her pragmatic methods -should have extracted the humble and full confession from her niece -which seemed to be demanded by every authority, old or new, even had the -young widow’s steadfastness been less complete than it was. - -Above the turmoil of Ellinor’s emotions one thing soon became clear: not -an hour longer than possible could she remain under this roof. The bread -of Madam Tutterville would stick in her throat. The cold charity of -strangers would be sweet compared with the bounty of one that could -think so meanly of her own kin. Ellinor was indignant, Madam Tutterville -severe; so true it is that where most the human of all feelings is -concerned, the best and most tender-hearted woman seems suddenly -merciless. They parted in anger. - -Early then, on this most gloomy day, had Ellinor taken all her measures. -Her available funds were small, but she had saved enough from those -limited stores which her father had handed over to her to provide for -the immediate future. She had, besides, the capital of splendid health, -of indomitable will and energy; so that, for her modest material needs -Ellinor Marvel, though now a poor woman once more, had no anxiety. But, -oh, for the needs of her heart—that passionate awakened heart that had -learned to want so much! It was worse than death to have to tear herself -from Bindon. - -Nevertheless, unfalteringly, with the secrecy of one who will not be -prevented, she considered and carried out her plans. A place was -privately retained on the Bath and Devizes coach which passed every -morning before the gates of Bindon. Her few garments were gathered and -packed. A letter to the rector was left to be delivered after her -departure. It briefly stated that she felt it impossible to remain at -Bindon, and promised to communicate with him later on. - -Unnoticed, she slipped away through the shadows of the little church; -and after consigning her small effects to Barnaby (and picking up, on a -sudden tender thought of her father, the anxious Belphegor) she struck -across the wet grass towards the park entrance, followed by the dismal -tolling of the Bindon church bell. - -The hood of her cloak pulled over her face, its folds wrapped round her, -she sped through the misting rain, so plunged in thought as scarcely to -notice, until within a few paces, the knot of village folk advancing up -the avenue. - -Then she halted, unpleasantly struck by something strange and -threatening in their demeanour. They were coming along at a great rate, -like people belated, talking eagerly among themselves, and with fierce -gesture. There were some eight or ten of them: an elderly man with a -long draggled streamer of black crape tied to a bludgeon, a couple of -lanky lads fighting over the possession of a pitchfork, and the rest -women, one of whom dragged a child by the hand. - -Upon the instant that Ellinor and Barnaby halted they were recognised, -and a shout went up that made her blood run cold. The next moment she -was surrounded, and the words of execration hurled at her fell with -almost as stunning effect as the blows they seemed to presage. - -“Witch! Poisoner! Murderer of poor people! She’s trying to run away! It -was she planted the poison bush: burn her with a faggot of it! She’s in -league with the Devil, and that’s the Devil’s imp. The witch and her -boy! Seize her, duck her!” - -Angry hands were outstretched, and Ellinor, with energies suddenly -restored by the realisation of danger, stepped back against one of the -mighty beeches, holding out the wide cloak to shield Barnaby. A new howl -broke out at the sight of her burden. - -“The witch and her cat! Burn her! Burn them!” - -“Give me back my wife!” cried the man with the bludgeon. - -“And where’s good Mrs. Nutmeg?” shrieked an old hag. - -“See, Jamesie,” exclaimed the woman with the child, “spit upon her! It -is she who bewitched your poor daddy!” - -The child hurled a stone which fell short of its aim. This was the -signal for the passage from anger to frenzy; and it would have fared ill -with Master Simon’s three innocent associates, had not it been for an -unexpected aid. Barnaby’s face was already streaming with blood, and -Ellinor had received on her arm a vicious blow—which Jamesie’s mother, -armed with a flint, had levelled at Belphegor—when the sound of an -authoritative shout produced a sudden halt. The sight of the keeper, -advancing at full run from his gate-lodge and significantly handling his -gun, immediately altered the complexion of affairs. Yet he had not come -a moment too soon, nor was there one to be lost; for already a few -stragglers, drunk with the triumph of destruction, were running down the -avenue towards them from the Herb-Garden. - -“Stand back!” cried the keeper. “Stand back, John Mossmason, or I’ll -plug you! And you, Joe Barnwall, if you don’t drop that pitchfork you’ll -never dig a turnip again, or my name is not keeper!” - -The broad cord-clad back was now between Ellinor and her foes. Keeping -his barrels levelled at the rioters, he whispered to her over his -shoulder: - -“Run, ma’am, run and get into the lodge!” - -At that instant the note of the post-horn rang out upon the air; the -Bath and Devizes coach was passing through the village. - - -The younger of the two discontented gentlemen who occupied damp outside -seats on the coach that day and had been looking forth in dudgeon upon a -world of dudgeon, never ceased in after years to recall the tale of that -ride as one fit for walnuts and wine. - -“It was raining cats and dogs, and by ill-luck (as I thought then), I -and an elderly old buck had to put up with outsides: it was packed -inside. Well, sir, I was cursing pretty freely by the time we were -drawing Devizes. And when the coachman said he had to pick up a -passenger at the gates of Bindon-Cheveral, I was getting a curse out of -that, for an irregularity—when, gad, the words died on my tongue! - -“A woman, sir, the loveliest woman these eyes were ever laid upon (my -good lady is not here, I can say it in your ear), running, running for -her life, bare-headed in the rain! By George, that was hair worth gazing -at! She held a cat in her arms, like a baby, her cloak, half-torn from -her back, flying behind. She was making for our coach. After her, an -overgrown gawk of a lad, with a bloody sconce, lugging her bundles -anyhow, the most frightened hare of a fellow it has ever been my lot to -see—turned out afterwards, to be a kind of natural, deaf and dumb. But -she, gad! she was brave for both! A grand creature, ’pon my word! Inside -the park there was a prodigious deal of shouting and scuffling, and two -or three big devils with pitchforks yelling something about a witch. - -“‘Pray, gentlemen,’ says she, looking up at us, her eyes as blue as -forget-me-nots, her face as white as this napkin, but as calm as you or -I, ‘help me up,’ says she, ‘or they will kill me.’ And would you -believe, it, she hands the cat up first before she’d let any one extend -a hand to her? And the boy, he must come too! ‘I can’t leave him -behind,’ says she, ‘they would tear him to pieces.’ And, zounds, sir, if -it had not been for a keeper fellow with a gun who ran up and locked the -wicket gate in their very faces, some of those lads meant murder or I -never saw it written on a human face. Then it was: ‘On with you John!’ -Off went the horn. Off went we, the inside females screeching like mad, -and the devils at the gate bellowing like wild beasts after their -prey.... - -“‘Well, this is a rum go!’ says the coachman, as he tucks the cat -between his boots. ‘I always thought this here place of the Cheverals -was asleep; dang me if it hasn’t wakened up with a vengeance!’ - -“A witch, sir, they’d called her. Not so far wrong there! Between you -and me and the bottle I’ve never been able to forget her. A strange -creature—all the women I’ve known would have gone off in a screaming fit -or a swoon. Not she. The first thing she does is to whip open one of her -little bundles and out with her handkerchief, and wipe and bind the -boy’s broken head as he squatted beside her; and then she turns to me on -the other side and hands me a scarf, and says she: ‘Would I be so kind -as to tie it round her arm, as tight as might be.’ And then I saw an -ugly gash in the pretty white flesh. ‘A hit with a stone,’ she says. And -not another word could I get, nor the other old boy (who was green with -jealousy at her speaking with me), nor John the coachman, though he -called her ‘my dear,’ and was as round as round with her, a fatherly -sort of man that any young female might confide in. - -“She just pulled her hood over her face and lay back folding her arms, -the sound one over the hurt one, and sat staring at the gray wet walls -of Cheveral park as we skirted them. Her face looked like a white rose -in the black shadow, and by and by, I saw the great tears begin to -gather and roll down her cheeks one by one. I tell you, sir, my heart’s -not a particularly soft one, but it made it ache. - -“Well, we set her down and her cat and her boy at York House. She paid -the boy’s fare and thanked us. I thought she was going in at the -York—but she went up without another word by Bartlett street. And I -never saw her again, nor heard more of her story.—Pass the bottle.” - - - - - THE STAR DREAMER - - - - - BOOK IV - - - Haunted by the starry head - Of her whose gentle will has changed my faith - And made my life a perfumed altar flame. - TENNYSON (_Maud_) - - - - - CHAPTER I - AH ME, THE MIGHT-HAVE-BEEN! - - I cry to vacant chairs and widowed walls, - My house is left unto me desolate. - —TENNYSON (_Aylmer’s Field_). - - -Bindon woods were growing yellow. After an early and glorious summer, -rain had set in with much wind and storm, and though it was but the -first of September, the country had already begun to don its autumn -livery. - -Sir David, returning from a devious pilgrimage, rode slowly up the -avenue. There was the scent of fallen leaves in the air and the ground -beneath the tread of his horse’s feet was sodden and spongy. It was a -sad and cloudy afternoon, with just now a brief respite between two -gusts of wind and rain, a streak of blue in the watery sky above the -soaking land. He had come fast and far; his horse was mud-bespattered, -his riding-boots discoloured to the knees. Both rider and steed seemed -dejected: so comes a man home from fruitless quest. - -At the bend of the way, where the rectory walls skirted the avenue, Dr. -Tutterville suddenly stood forth. From afar, and with anxious eyes, the -parson and the squire scrutinised each other’s bearing, and it hardly -needed the melancholy greeting: - -“No news!” - -“No news!” to confirm the impression of failure. - -The reverend Horatio had, during the last four weeks of anxiety and -fruitless search, lost some of his comfortable rotundity, some of his -placid ease of manner. The iron grey of his hair had lightened a little -more towards silver. He laid his hand upon the rider’s muddy knee and -paced beside him towards the house. After a little silence a melancholy -converse began. - -“Wherever the poor child may be,” said the parson, “at any rate you are -satisfied that she has not fallen into the hands either of that -evil-living man, Colonel Harcourt, or of that light-spirited youth, Mr. -Luke Herrick. That at least should be a consolation.” - -Yet he sighed as he spoke and looked questioningly at the other. But -David’s face became still more darkened. - -“As I wrote to you,” he replied, after a little pause and with a sort of -repugnance, “I had Colonel Harcourt’s movements closely traced from the -moment of his leaving the ‘Cheveral Arms’ to the moment of our meeting -in Richmond Park, and afterwards. Ellinor and he——” He broke off then, -with a sudden irritation: “Great God,” he cried, “it was infamous to -suspect her of favour to that man.” - -Dr. Tutterville shook his head. - -“The best and the purest,” said he, “are often and naturally the most -easily deluded, David. I suspect her of nothing more than——” - -But seeing Sir David wince he did not conclude his phrase. There fell -another silence, emphasised by the sucking sound of the horse’s hoofs on -the moist pathway and the dripping of the leaves over their heads. Then -the rector began again plaintively: - -“The fair creature had grown into my old heart! Without her Bindon is -desolate! At any rate you are satisfied,” he repeated in a tone of the -most uncomfortable indecision, “and also as regards Mr. Herrick.” - -Anger began to creep to the rider’s brow once more. But he mastered -himself and answered calmly enough: - -“My dear doctor, I have written all this to you; do not bring me over -the weary ground again. Harcourt is now in bed, being nursed for his -second wound. I mentioned, did I not, that he had scarce recovered from -the ball I left in his shoulder—ah, doctor, I used to have a steadier -hand—before he had a second encounter, this time with Mr. Herrick.” - -“I confess,” said the parson, with a melancholy shake of the head, “that -it is precisely this second meeting which reawakened all my doubts. You -know I had never been disposed to consider Colonel Harcourt seriously in -the matter, deeming it so much more probable that Ellinor should have -been attracted by the younger gentleman. And I had most earnestly -trusted that, the latter being (or I am no judge of character) an -honest-hearted youth, affairs were by no means past remedy.” - -“You are right,” answered David, “Mr. Herrick is an honourable man. I -saw him the day before his meeting with Harcourt. What passed between us -is sacred to both. Suffice it: I am satisfied.” - -The parson sighed and again shook his head. - -“Satisfied!” he echoed. “Would I could feel satisfied about the welfare -of that poor child; nay, about any one detail of the whole incredible -business! At first I could have sworn.... You see, since her flight all -my theories are upset. There is only one thing clear, and that is the -emptiness of our lives without her!” - -Thereupon the younger man’s passion burst forth. He struck the saddle -bow with his clenched hand: - -“In Heaven’s name, spare me any more of this! My God, man, do you not -think I feel it at least as much as you? If she had grown into your -heart, how had it been with mine?” - -“Forgive me,” interposed the other in alarm at his companion’s -vehemence. (Was this the old brain-sick David back again, was the old -story of Bindon House to begin once more?) “Forgive me,” he repeated. “I -had no idea....” - -“No idea!” The rider looked down upon his companion with a bitter smile. -“And did I not hear you boast, but a moment ago, that you could read the -human countenance? No idea that I loved Ellinor! Why, man, have I not -loved her since the first instant these eyes beheld her, ah, me, nearly -a year ago! with the lamplight shining on her golden head! And her blue -eyes—her blue eyes!” - -With the inexplicable shyness of the man for his fellow-human, the -parson almost recoiled from the vision of passion unexpectedly laid bare -before him. But like those mountain-chasms filled with mist to the -wayfarer’s eye, save when a rare and sudden gust of wind allows their -depth to be fathomed for a moment, the deeps of Sir David’s heart were -swiftly veiled again. He resumed the thread of his thought, in a -composed manner, though somewhat dreamily, as if speaking to himself -rather than to a listener: - -“I came down that first night from my tower, I remember, eyes and mind -dazed by the glory of that new star which I was so inordinately elated -at having been the first to see, and I thought,” with a little laugh at -once tender and exceedingly melancholy, “that another miracle—I was in -the mood for miracles—had been wrought for me, and that the star in the -firmament had taken living shape on earth!” - -“In the name of goodness, what prevented you from telling her so then!” -exclaimed the parson with sudden testiness. “Aye, David, and sparing us -all this sorrow? You could have won her easily enough.” - -“Because I was mad, I suppose. Oh, my dear old friend, never protest! I -am sane again now, sane enough at least to know how mad I have been—call -it by what euphemistic name you like. I might have won her, but did not -know myself, could not trust myself. I believed I had done with human -love, you know. I had consecrated myself to worlds beyond this one. She -came to call me down from my unnatural life. She spoke to me, with sweet -human voice, of lovely human things; she laid her tender hand on mine. -It was my madness that I dulled my ears, that I made no answer to her -touch. And yet there was happiness, ah, God, what happiness, in it all! -Then came that last strange night! What happened to me I cannot recall. -But ever since then I have been so sane, that, before God, I could -almost wish the old folly back now that I have lost all. The curse of -common sense is on me: I can no longer lose myself in visions on my -tower. There stands Bindon, my house, my desolate house, an empty shell, -full of echoes. Before me lies a desolate, empty life, full of memories. -Everything, everything speaks of her, calls for her! Nothing can ever be -sweet to me for the want of her. Once she said to me: ‘David, David, why -is your heart empty, why are there no children round your knee!’ And I -made answer: ‘Never can such things be for me.’ And then she wept over -me.... You are right, sir, I might have won her. Sometimes, reason -notwithstanding, under the pulse of vague, elusive memories I cannot -fix, I think that in spite of all she loved me.” - -The parson started again and flung an apprehensive glance at the -speaker. The latter noted it; and the cold desolation of his voice -changed for a light tone of irony that was somehow quite as melancholy: - -“But never fear, dear sir, this is no return of madness. Who can fathom -a woman’s heart? All lies shrouded in mystery and, as you say, we know -but one thing:—that we have lost her!” - - -“Strange is it not?” began David once more, “that I should remember so -clearly every word she ever said to me, though my poor brain was so sick -at the time! But indeed it seems to me as if, until the moment when -first a mantle of gorgeous dream enwrapt me round and then a blank, a -blessed blank fell on me and in it I lost as in a great sea all the -miserable wreckage of my wasted life—it seems to me, I say, as if my -illness was that I remembered too much, too constantly, too vividly, for -mental health. And now I remember still, yet not as of old with torture -of shame and fury, but as if memories of her were all that life has left -of sweetness.” He reined in his horse, and, gazing straight before him -as at the rift of blue between the heavy clouds, went on still dreamily: -“Strange, does it not seem to you? Strange even to myself! And I who -could not trust her, when her every look and smile was for me, now I -trust her, although, standing before us all, she would not defend her -woman’s fame by one word.” - -They had reached the bridge that led across the moat to the yards. Here -David, having hailed a stableman from a distance, dismounted and -delivered over his horse. - -“Give me your arm, doctor,” said he, “I am stiff from the saddle and -cold from my thoughts. I dread the going in; let us prolong our way -sufficiently to put my dull blood in movement again. Yes, my kind old -friend,” he went on, in answer to a shrewd look, “it is even so; I dread -the moment of crossing my threshold where there is nought to greet us -but whispers of the might-have-been.” - -“Man was never meant to live alone,” said Tutterville sententiously. -“How often have I not told you so?” - -Leaning on the parson’s arm, David impelled him towards the narrow path -that led to the fateful Herb-Garden. The wind had risen again; a -rainstorm was impending. Overhead the branches were shaken as by an -angry capricious hand; shreds of green foliage, and now and then an -isolated prematurely yellow leaf, fluttered athwart them as they went. - -Sir David halted with a start as they came into the open space under the -yew-tree. Where the ancient gateway had, with delicate curvet and -strength of iron, guarded the forbidden close, was now a gap, ugly as a -wound, beyond which the stretch of devastated garden lay raw to the -gaze. Against the broken-down wall the useless unhinged doors lay -propped. - -“I have had nothing done to this place since you left,” said the rector, -breaking the heavy pause. “I thought that perhaps your wish would -coincide with mine; that you would give orders to have these precincts -cleared and levelled, and thrown in with the rest of the grounds, so -that even its unhappy memory might die out among us. Over those new -graves in the churchyard the sod is growing green again; and in the -hearts of our poor ignorant village folk, resignation to the will of -Providence, and repentance and shame for their cowardly turbulence, has -taken the place of all angry feelings. I may tell you now, David, how -grateful they all are for your not pursuing them with punishment.” - -“Pah!” interrupted Sir David with impatient contempt. “What were the -wretches to me—since I had heard she had escaped! What care I but to -find her again!” - -The parson halted disconcerted. Sir David had abruptly left his side to -walk rapidly up to the gates and examine them. Then he turned. His look -and demeanour had something of the singularity of former days. And from -his distance: - -“Rase these walls!” he cried. “Sweep these memories!... Have I not just -said to you that memory is all that I have left! This wall shall be -built up, these gates hung again; and no hand but mine shall touch what -remains of those beds that she tended and planted. No feet but mine -shall tread the paths her feet have pressed. Here shall all lie as -secret and desolate as my life without her.—Let us go!” - -Worthy Dr. Tutterville walked on in silence. His warm heart was too -sincerely grieved for his eccentric companion to resent his present -attitude; at the same time he was conscious of a humanly-irritated -regret that the present form of eccentricity should not have manifested -itself a little earlier. Presently Sir David took up the thread of the -conversation where the rector had left it. - -“So your good parishioners are grateful for my indulgence,” he said, -with something approaching a sneer. “Let them thank the Providence to -whom, as you tell me, they are beginning to be resigned, that He -protected the object of their hatred from them! Had I not received the -keeper’s word that she was safe and sound, I would have left no stone -unturned to make every scoundrel of them know the full penalties of the -law touching assault and housebreaking. They complained of poison ... -they would have learned something of gallows! But their offence to me -was not worth the trouble their punishment would entail. She escaped—let -them be!” - -“These are hard words,” said the parson disturbed, and he was about to -add all the excuses he had already found for his flock in the trouble -they had themselves endured and in the evil influence of Margery among -them, when David interrupted again: - -“I am a hard man, it seems! Well, I need be, to endure life.” - -And Dr. Tutterville wisely held his peace. - -The two friends proceeded towards Bindon House in silence. The reverend -Horatio was now pondering over certain phrases of David’s which seemed -ever and again, like the lightning that on a dark night flashes out upon -the bewildered wayfarer, one instant to show him the road, only to leave -him the next hopelessly groping in the mire. - -“If she had grown into your heart, how had it been with mine!... Why, -man, I have loved her since the first instant! First I was wrapt in -gorgeous dreams, and then there came the blank. Then came the blank—then -came the _blank_.” The phrase recurred, with meaning insistence like the -burden of a catch. Presently he gave a kind of start. If he dared but -connect these flashes! If he but dared hazard his unsteady steps upon -the astonishing road they seemed to reveal! But he kept his peace. - -In spirit David was back in the Herb-Garden, not the poor, dishonoured, -bruised place upon which he had just turned his back, but the garden of -that wondrous dawn where he and Ellinor had wandered into such a lovely -land. He yearned for the moment when the guardian gates should be erect -once more and the key of them within his hand.—Therein, as a man locks -up the casket that holds the faded flowers, the crushed letters, all -that fate has left him of his love, would he hold close for evermore the -tenderest memory of his life. - - - - - CHAPTER II - A MESSENGER OF GLAD TIDINGS - - Oh, my love, my breath of life, where art thou! - —KEATS (_Endymion_). - - -Sir David turned into the library and flung himself into a chair with a -sigh that was almost a groan. And Dr. Tutterville could have echoed it -as he looked round:—the ghosts that Ellinor had chased had all returned -with the dust on the window-pane, with the dead flowers in the bowl, -with the stagnant atmosphere of a fireless unaired room. The very books -seemed to have lost their souls, to have become but matter, telling of -nought but the futility of all things. Dimness and desolation brooded -again over the house. - -The parson tried to pump up some consoling phrase, stopped midway, -coughed, went to the window and began to tap aimlessly on the pane. A -selfish, elderly longing seemed to draw him back towards his own cosy -fireside, where no haunting regret had ever quite extinguished the light -of sunny Greek or philosophic Latin; where melancholy assumed no sterner -guise than the placid analytic countenance of old Burton. He glanced -again at the long figure in the chair, now bent in utter weariness, and -the inner voice asked anxiously in a whisper: “How long will the -new-found sanity last in such conditions as these?” - -Into this brooding came a sudden clamour from without. It was the voice -of Madam Tutterville calling upon her spouse with every note of -impatience and exultation; and a moment later the lady herself appeared -in the doorway, panting but radiant. - -“Horatio, my dear doctor! Good gracious, man, what are you doing here? I -have sought you everywhere as the spouse of the canticle sought the -goat. Oh, my goodness, let me sit down and find breath! I have news!” - -News! On her entrance, David had drawn himself slowly together with -lustreless eye and turned vaguely to greet the new-comer, but her last -words brought him to her side with a spring that overtook even his -exclamation. - -“News!” he echoed. And the two men looked at each other. What could news -mean to them but one thing? - -Madam Tutterville tottered to a chair, untied her hat-strings, let her -hands drop upon her comfortable knees, and turned her eyes from one -eager face to the other. Her own full-moon countenance was irradiated -with a harvest-like glow. The infantile smile of her best moods was upon -her lips. - -But woman will remain woman no matter how clothed with superfluous -flesh. Sophia positively coquetted with the moment, dallied with her own -consciousness of power as complacently as any slim chit of eighteen. She -vowed she was tired to death; pettishly requested Horatio not to hang -over her: she was hot, she was stifling. She then, in a tone of -promising importance, announced that she was back from Bath (for her -autumn shopping), and then broke off to stare at David as if she had but -just become aware of his presence, and to comment upon his unexpected -return with exasperating interest. - -“And what news have you brought?” quoth she, with emphasis. - -Bitter disappointment set its mark on David’s face. - -“Have you found traces of Ellinor?” pursued the lady. - -David drew back, shaking his head; but the parson found a different -meaning in his wife’s bantering tone. He caught her plump hand. - -“Ah, excellent Sophia!” said he. “I might have known you would come to -the rescue, as ever! You have heard of the child!” - -Madam Tutterville was no longer able to control the tide of her triumph: - -“Heard of her? Traced—found her—seen her! But this hour come from her! -Have held her in these arms!” - -Her voice rose with ever increasing flourish till it broke upon the -over-high note. - -The next instant she was clasped in her lord’s embrace; and, as she -sobbed with joy upon his shoulder, it may be that even the worthy -gentleman’s own eyes grew wet. David stood quite still, in that -intensity of stillness which cloaks an intensity of emotion. When the -worthy couple had recovered from their effusiveness, Madam Tutterville, -now with full gusto, began to narrate her story: - -“You see, dear Horatio, I could not but feel that you regarded me to -blame for poor Ellinor’s flight. And perhaps you are right, doctor, for -I fear, in my anxiety, I did indeed fail to observe the scriptural rule -that silence is a most excellent thing in woman: A melancholy breach of -my usual rule of life——” - -“Yes, dear,” said the parson blandly, “and so it was in Bath, Sophia——” - -“Pray, my dear doctor, allow me time to speak. I do not mind admitting -to you that the expedition to Bath was undertaken less with a view to -the store-room (though you did require the Spanish olives), than——” she -paused. “There has been a coldness in your eye this past month, Horatio. -Oh, yes, my dear doctor, there is no use in denying! And, well, well, I -grant you, it was a very sad thing, whatever we might have to reproach -her with, to think of that poor young thing cast upon the world. You -have always laughed at my presentiments; but, as the prophet says, there -are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio——” - -“For God’s sake,” interrupted David suddenly, “this is torture! Where -did you see Ellinor? How is she?” - -Madam Tutterville started, less at the words than at the tone. She -stared a second blankly at the speaker, then meekly replied: - -“I found her at Bath. She actually was no further than Bath! In a little -lodging. She has been ill, poor dear, but now is strong again. Oh, poor -child, she has suffered!” - -David turned away. But the parson interposed eagerly: - -“And was she alone? Has she told you all?” - -Whereat Madam Tutterville was not a little irate. - -“Alone, sir—what are you thinking of! I pray you remember, she is my own -niece.” She checked herself. “Alone, yes, indeed save for the two dumb -things, Belphegor and Barnaby. And as for telling me.... What do you -take me for? Do you suppose I should be plaguing her with questions at -such a moment? And it’s my belief,” asserted Aunt Sophia energetically, -“that she’ll never tell anyone anything. When I as much as hinted again -that she might confide in my bosom, she closed her lips and neither man -nor mortal could have drawn a word from her; no, not if they had put her -on the rack!” - -“Singular,” mused the parson. But there was a latent illumination in his -eye. - -After a while, which was a long while to the impatience of her two -hearers, Madam Tutterville had told all she had to tell: - -She had traced Ellinor, “in a luminous fashion,” she averred; first by -the sight of the unmistakable Belphegor washing his face on the window -ledge of a quiet little grey house in a quiet little back street up -which Providence (as she piously expressed it), in the shape of a stupid -chairman, had inadvertently led her. So struck was she at the remarkable -resemblance to her old cat-acquaintance, she noted in the four-legged -philosopher seated among certain dead geraniums, that she had, upon an -impulse, arrested her progress. And here (as she took some trouble to -point to her spouse) her intelligence had given that effective aid to -the designs of Providence, without which the Heavenly Hints would have -been thrown away. No sooner had she called a halt than Barnaby himself -appeared on the doorstep with a basket on his arm. And after that it was -but a short way from the chair to the poor room: and Ellinor was -gathered to her arms! - -But, to all their questioning, in which indeed it seemed the rector for -the most part voiced Sir David’s eagerness, beyond the capital fact of -the discovery of the truant, Madam Tutterville could give them but -little information concerning Ellinor herself; none as to her plans. She -had been ill. She was well again. She looked pale, but not sickly; was -very silent; refused to come back to the rectory; was in no want, and -had prospect of employment. What work and where, she avoided telling. -The utmost Madam Tutterville had been able to extract from her was the -solemn promise not to leave Bath without further communicating with her; -and this was on the understanding that Madam Tutterville would then take -Barnaby into the rectory—since it was now safe to do so. - -“And did she ever speak of David?” asked the reverend Horatio, his eye -just blinking across to the latter’s white face. - -“Oh, she asked me how he was ... just at the end. I was actually on the -doorstep when she caught me by the arm: ‘How is David, aunt?’” quoth -she. - -Madam Tuttervile’s tone expressed the mystification which something -singular in her niece’s manner seemed to have evoked. - -“I told her he was away in London. Believing, of course, that you were -still there, David. And I told her how well you are. What wonderful -accounts we had to give of you. Quite, quite your old self, before—Ah!” - -She broke off a little disconcerted at the allusions to which her tongue -was drifting. - -“And Ellinor said?” inquired the parson gently, this time keeping his -gaze away from his friend’s face. - -“Ellinor!” The lady’s visage became wrinkled into fresh lines of -perplexity. “Poor dear child! I fear she is very weak and nervous still. -‘I am so glad, so glad!’ she said, that was all.... But, do you know, I -verily believe that, as she closed the door on me, I heard her sob. I -had it in my heart to go back but, dear Horatio, she had pushed the -bolt!” - -Madam Tutterville turned from her contemplation of the doctor’s -determinedly impassive features to stare at David. And whatever she then -saw, it seemed all at once to procure her the liveliest, yet the most -agreeable, surprise. On the verge of an outcry, she checked herself, -nodded, pursed her lips, rolled an eye of weighty meaning at her lord, -and rising, remarked with an air of abnormal detachment, that it was -getting late and she had had a vast of fatigue. - -The parson, with a gesture of acquiescence, turned to David. - -“Good evening, then,” said he. - -And with a little burst of feeling which sat very well on his dignity, -he turned back to look admiringly at his wife. - -“How beautiful over the hills,” he exclaimed, “are the feet of the -messenger of glad tidings!” - -Madam Tutterville glanced down at her sandals and smiled with -whole-hearted delight and pride. But the rector, instead of following up -his leave-taking, halted on his way to the door, lost in profound -reflection. She respected the mood for an appreciable moment, then -called on him, first tenderly, then with a shade of impatience. - -“My dear love,” said he, when roused at last, “I pray you, wait for me -in the parlour. There are now, I remember, a few words I must say to -David. I will not keep you above a minute, my beloved Sophia.” - -As the door closed the parson stood a little while in silence beside -David’s motionless figure, regarding him gravely. Then said he: - -“David! What is Bindon without Ellinor?” - -David slowly turned his eyes. - -“Why do you say that to me? Do I not know? Have I not felt it? Did you -not yourself see what the moment of crossing my desolate threshold was -to me! Did you not come with me into this empty room and hear its -emptiness howl for her like the emptiness of my heart? Oh, for the sound -of the rustle of her dress—of the least of her footfalls on the stairs!” -He broke off, and suddenly lost his concentrated composure in a cry: -“I’d give my soul to have her back!” - -At this the parson was not shocked. Indeed he smiled more genially than -if his companion had expressed the most pious resignation. - -“Fortunately,” said he, “the price need not be so great!” - -For a moment, in the glimmering dusk, David stared. Then catching his -meaning, gave an inarticulate exclamation and sprang towards the door, -where laughing now, the elder man laid hands on him. - -“What! Is it boot and saddle, and spur and away? A Lochinvar! A very -Lochinvar! Nay, nay, we are boys no longer, David. That is the right -spirit, man, but we must act more circumspectly. Remember, it is a -wounded bird, mysteriously wounded, and must be approached gently and -touched tenderly. Nay, never look like that! Lord, what weak children -this love doth make of men! See, David, leave me but one day to work for -you. Trust the older head. Age has its privileges: the old man can step -in where the lover must stand aloof. As for you, get you to your stars: -the clouds are driving off, ’tis like to be a clear night. Get you to -your stars and dream!” - -And as the Star-Dreamer made a gesture of indignant denegation the other -broke again into a chuckling laugh. - -“To your tower!” he insisted. “I never bade you dream only of heavenly -things—go dream, in your endless spaces, of the sweetest thing on -earth!” - - -“Horatio,” began Madam Tutterville with great solemnity. They had -reached the shade of the avenue and the lady, while leaning -affectionately on the rector’s arm, had maintained up to this an -unwonted silence—“Horatio,” said she, “you will no doubt scarcely credit -it, but, without vanity, I may say that this has been a day of special -revelation between myself and the Lord. I have observed. I have noted. -There are certain signs. A woman’s eye, my dear sir, is quick in these -matters. In fact, Horatio, I really believe David is in love with -Ellinor.” - -“My dear Sophia, you do not say so!” - -“Indeed, doctor, but I do. Ah, you smile, you shake your head! Well, -well, it would be strange, I grant, and something contradictious of fate -that this should come to pass at last, which we have both so much -desired, when one may say it would only seem now but an added -complication. But (pray let me finish, Horatio), who are we that we -should doubt the power of Providence? ‘He can make the wilderness -blossom like the rose.’” - -“A beautiful text, Sophia, and quoted with commendable accuracy! -Nevertheless,” returned the parson, “I would most earnestly advise you -not to confide these very extraordinary suppositions of yours to any -other human being. I have so high an opinion of your acumen, Madam -Tutterville, and you have so brilliantly acquitted yourself to-day, that -it would be a thousand pities to spoil so bright a record by these -wild—these altogether feminine imaginings.” - -The poor lady acquiesced with a chastened air. When her Horatio adopted -this decisive tone her submission was unqualified. - -She did not speak again till they had reached the mellow mossy wall of -the rectory orchard. Then she hazarded, in a small voice, that she dared -say Dr. Tutterville would only laugh at her again, but she could not -rest easy in her conscience without telling him that the more she had -thought of the matter lately, and especially since her recent interview -with Ellinor, the more the conviction had grown in her mind that the -poor, pretty dear had been the victim of some base conspiracy. “That -Margery!... not to speak of Lady Lochore——” - -The rector halted, seized his wife by both hands, and exclaimed in a -tone of genial admiration that brought back with a leap all her -self-esteem: - -“Sophia, there speaks your wise head! And,” he added, pressing the hands -he held: “there speaks my Sophia’s kind heart.” - -And arm-in-arm once more, and both smiling, they crossed the peaceful -threshold of their home. - - - - - CHAPTER III - NOT WORDS, BUT HANDS MEETING - - ... Indeed I love thee: come - Yield thyself up: my hopes and thine are one: - Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself; - Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me. - —TENNYSON (_The Princess_). - - -The rector passed half the night in that solitude which was ever -respected by his wife as devoted to elegant study. But his energies were -occupied by subjects neither classic nor biblic, nor yet philosophic. It -was the diplomatic composition of one short letter that kept him -employed into the deep hours. - -The purpose of this missive was so close to his heart, the matter was so -delicate; so necessary was it to display some guile, that the erudite -gentleman had seldom set his wits a more difficult task. - -The finished draft was of a masterpiece of its kind, though one could -hardly say that the impression it conveyed to the reader adhered closely -to actual fact. But, as it certainly conveyed the impression desired by -the reverend Horatio, he read it over with great complacency before -folding and sealing it. And when he retired at last to his couch, his -conscience was more placid than altogether became a divine of the -Anglican church, who had just been guilty of dealing in Jesuitical -casuistry. - -About six o’clock the next evening, as the rector sipped his -after-dinner cup of bohea, he made casually the following announcement -to his spouse: - -“My love, I despatched a messenger to Bath by the coach this morning.” - -Madam Tutterville put down her spoon and looked up eagerly. - -“Indeed, doctor?” - -“Yes, Sophia. I discovered that there was positively not another pinch -of macabaw in my _tabatière_.” - -The lady examined him sharply. Then before his impassive countenance her -own fell considerably. - -“It is a pity,” she remarked with some dryness, “that you did not make -that discovery before I started yesterday.” - -“It is, perhaps,” said the rector. - -There was a slight pause; then the gentleman rose. “A lovely evening,” -said he. “I think, Sophia, I will stroll down the park and meet the -coach on its return.” - -“My dear doctor, after dinner rest awhile.” - -“I am pining, Sophia, for that _rapee_—or did I say macabaw? There’s not -a pinch, not a pinch.” - -As he passed out into the little garden, he said to himself: - -“I am growing positively Machiavelian!” And thereat the abandoned rector -breathed in the soft air, luxuriously. - -It was a lovely evening, as he had said. September had been drifting on, -in peace and suavity; and, this day, summer seemed to pause and watch -the coming of inevitable autumn as a beautiful woman pauses and looks -down the hill of life with a sweet resignation that lends her a new -pathetic charm, unknown to the pride of her June or even to the -exquisite promise of her April. The light was golden-yellow over the -grass, where the shadows of the elms lay long. Now and then an -early-withered leaf crackled under the parson’s foot. The rooks were -cawing for their last muster of the day; the kine were lowing towards -far-off byres. There was a tramp of feet along the road without the -walls and the distant sound of voices. The whole air was full of the -music of evening home-comings. A sense of peace descended on the good -man’s soul, he bared his grey-crowned head and looked up at the placid -sky, and felt a kind of faith in happiness. - -It was to him as if the striving, the heat and the burden of the day had -passed from their lives, and God’s best gift, rest, was about to be -bestowed at last. - - -Even as he was drawing near the gates, Ellinor was alighting from the -coach, pale, tired, anxious-eyed, followed by a dusty Barnaby, who -carried under his arm a cross Belphegor. They hurried through the wicket -into the green arms of the park. Obedient to his mistress’s gesture, the -dumb boy with his burden struck immediately across the grass towards the -rectory, while she paused to draw a deep breath and taste for a spell -the sad delight of being once more in that beloved enclosure, which had -been, and was still, all the world to her. - -Presently she was startled to find the reverend Horatio at her side. - -“Thrice welcome!” cried he, and there was unwonted emotion in his rich -kind voice. She was folded in a paternal embrace. But, with both hands -upon his shoulders, she drew back, to scan his countenance; and her eyes -shot mingled joy and reproach upon him for that he looked so hale and -placid. The while his gaze pitied the narrower oval of her flower face, -the paled cheek that had been so warm-tinted, the shadowed eyes that had -been so bright. - -“My dear, my dear,” he said, “you look very ill!” - -“And you, Uncle Horatio, singularly well!” She drew still further from -him as she spoke. And suddenly a rush of indignant blood dyed her -pallor. “Why have you brought me here?” she cried. “If—oh, sir, this is -not right or kind!” With agitated gesture she sought a letter in her -reticule. “Indeed, sir, you must have deceived me!” - -But the rector smiled on unperturbed. There was no guilt, but rather an -expression of self-approval, writ upon his every line. Ellinor unfolded -a letter: - - “My child, will you come and help nurse back to health a sick and - weary man? I would not summon you, but that I know your kind heart, - and that you give us love for love. I think the sight of you will go - far towards making a cure. I shall expect you to-morrow.—Your old - UNCLE HORATIO.” - - “P. S.—You will think that the sickness is sudden—not so sudden, - perhaps! I will not say that it may not be dangerous, if your help is - withheld.” - -In resentful tones Mrs. Marvel read out this artful billet. The rector -showed no sign of confusion. - -“Oh, uncle!” said she, when she had finished. - -“Well, child,” he returned, and tucked her rebellious arm under his own, -“well, here has Bindon got you again, and here shall Bindon hold you!” - -She went a little way by his side in silence. Bindon grass was tender to -her feet and Bindon airs balmy to her face. Bindon woods, gathering -close about her, seemed to fold her round with a sense of security and -faithful guardianship—David’s Bindon, full of him, though empty just -now, as she thought, of his dear presence. God, was it not all too -sweet? Was not her mad heart too insensately throbbing with that -poisoned sweetness of it—and to what end? She wrenched her hand from the -close pressure of his elbow: - -“Why have you played me this cruel trick? Why have you lured me here on -a pretence?” she asked again, resentfully. - -Before the passion of her distress, parson Tutterville dropped the -amiable banter of speech and manner and became grave. - -“My dear child,” he answered, taking both her hands in his— “there was -no pretence. There is a sick man here who needs you very much, sorely -indeed!” - -His meaning flashed into her soul almost before the words had left his -lips. She formed the word: “David!” And he felt her tremble violently. - -“I understood David was away,” she said. “He is ill?” - -He was shocked at himself for the anxiety he had unwittingly caused; -and, moved to the very core by this depth of feeling he had hitherto -barely guessed at: - -“Forgive me, child,” he said gently. “David returned yesterday. He is -not sick in body—no,” hastily reading yet whiter terror on her face, -“nor yet in mind, thank God! But he is sick at heart.” - -“Sick at heart!” - -“Aye, for want of you!” - -Once more Ellinor crimsoned, but this time it was the “lovely banner of -love” that flaunted on her poor white face. - -“Did David send for me?” - -The cry smote the good man now with its sound of irrepressible joy. -Short as their interview had been, he felt ever more strongly how clumsy -were even his well-meaning fingers upon this delicate thing—a woman’s -heart. “One man only,” he said to himself, “has the right to play on -that lute—that is the man she loves.” And aloud: - -“No, David does not know,” he replied. - -“Then why am I here-what will he think?” - -She looked wildly round, almost as if she would have started running -back all those miles to her hiding-place. The rector laid a restraining -hand upon her shoulder. She turned on him fiercely. - -“You should not have brought me here!” - -“My child, you should never have left us!” - -When there was that tone in Horatio Tutterville’s voice and that look in -his kind eye, his rarely exercised authority made itself irresistibly -felt. Ellinor’s reproachful anger was turned to a filial pleading: - -“Dear uncle, how could I remain, how can I remain?... after ... after——” -Her lips trembled: they could not frame the words of the odious charge -which still lay against her fair fame. - -“And have we been so wanting towards you, Ellinor, all this time, that -you feel there is not one of us to whom you could give your confidence?” - -She gave a little cry as if the reproach had stabbed her. - -“Ah, no! Tis not like that! Oh, Uncle Horatio, it is because I cannot -speak. If you knew, you would be the first to see that I cannot speak.” - -Then all the shrewd surmises that had been floating in Dr. Tutterville’s -brains ever since David’s own confession assumed the complexion of -certainty. No need for him to pry further. He knew. At least he knew -quite enough. His first triumph at his own sagacity was succeeded by a -gush of admiration for the steadfast self-abnegation of the woman. - -“Keep your secret, child,” he said tenderly. “We are all, mark me, all, -quite ready to trust you.” - -But Ellinor no longer heard him. She was looking past him, towards the -house. Her eyes had become fixed—then dilated. She shivered again -slightly, and then she stood quite still. David, with long, quick -strides, was coming across the chequered shade and light of the avenue. - -Horatio Tutterville caught his breath slightly and stepped back against -the bole of a vast-girthed elm so as to sink his noticeable personality -almost out of sight. The crisis had come sooner than he expected. He had -planned it to be under Bindon’s roof—well, it was fated to be under the -arches of Bindon’s trees! Now were the matters passing out of his -muddling hands. Now was the crucial moment of the two lives on which he -hung all his own hopes, the lives of those who were to him son and -daughter, to whom he looked to be the crown of his old age. Good man, -his ambition was selfless enough: all he asked of these two was to be -happy! From behind the springing twigs he watched, with a beating heart. - -When her lover was within a few paces of her, Ellinor, moved by some -uncontrollable impulse, went forward to meet him. She took a hasty step -or two and then stood, hands outstretched. And David saw her, with a -shaft of yellow light striking her white forehead and flaming in her -enaureoled hair, poised in lovely waiting for his welcome—even as, now -nearly a year ago, he had first seen her and deemed that his beauteous -star-vision had taken human shape. - -There were no words—their hands met. There was no surprise in his eyes: -only a great joy. - -“Something drove me hither,” he said presently, “and it was you! The -whole day I could not rest, and you were coming home, coming back to me! -Oh, Ellinor, never leave us again! We are dead without you, Bindon and -I!” - -She looked up at him with brimming eyes, eyes as blue as his star. - -“Never again,” she returned, “if you and Bindon want me!” - -Then David bent and laid his lips upon hers. And hand-in-hand, gravely -they walked together through the trees. - -The parson looked after them, a broad smile upon his lips. Then he wiped -his forehead and then he wiped his eyes. Then he came out from his -discreet place and blew deep a puffing breath of relief. How he had -plotted and planned; how cautiously and tortuously he had worked for -this; how many convincing speeches he had rehearsed; how many intricate -scenes, tearful or passionate, through which his tact alone was to pilot -the sensitive lovers.... And behold! It was so simple! Oh, simple. Not a -word of explanation, no start, no cry, no inquiry, no tears!—They met -and clasped hands and kissed. And yet how natural it all was! The -inevitable coming together of two who could not live without each other. - -“I will allow them a couple of hours of paradise,” said the rector -importantly to himself, as, quite forgotten, he turned in the opposite -direction, “before calling them to earth again. I will even bring the -news to Sophia and bid her prepare the guest-chamber.” - -“A special licence,” thought the reverend gentleman, professionally, as -he reached his garden gate. “Only a special licence, I believe, will -meet the requirements of the case.” His hand on the latch he began to -laugh softly: “I have certainly been on the verge of wiliness. It is -fortunate that Sophia will have a vast deal to occupy her mind before -the nuptials, for I am not going to spoil these wondrous results by one -word. Poor Sophia, I fear there are certain explanations which are -destined to be for ever withheld from thee!” - -He could afford to feel superior over the thought of her unsatisfied -curiosity, his superior acumen having put him out of reach of any such -mortifying situation. The reverend Horatio knew Ellinor’s secret, and -was content that she should keep it. He would not even allow himself to -speculate upon whether she would reveal it to David; and if so, in what -manner. That was part of the sacredness of their future life. It -belonged to the sanctuary which every lover keeps for the beloved, and -into which, not even with uncovered feet or bowed head, might the most -reverent stranger dare to enter. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - A DREAM OF WOODS AND OF LOVE - - Has our whole earth gone nearer to the glow - Of your soft splendours, that you look so bright? - _I_ have climbed nearer out of lonely Hell. - Beat, happy stars, timing with things below, - Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell. - —TENNYSON (_Maud_). - - -Five days went like a dream over Ellinor’s head. And when she woke up -upon the sixth and saw the daylight grow upon the panelled wall of her -room at the rectory, and knew it was the day that would see her David’s -wife, she still felt as if she were in a dream. But it was a dream of -great peace. All conflict, all violent emotion, all sense even of having -to decide for herself, had gone from her. She was being guided and -willingly went, without a single anxious thought for the future. - -As in a dream she allowed Madam Tutterville, who fluttered between -smiles and tears, to robe her in her wedding garment. “Wear your grey -gown,” David had once said to her. And so she was clothed this day in -the colour he had liked. - -Dream-like still was the simple ceremony in Bindon’s mossy little -church, where a very solemn and reverent rector gave their union the -blessing of God from the depth of his fatherly heart. - -Coming down the aisle she noted with a vague smile what a monstrous -white tie, what a cauliflower of a button-hole, adorned the figure of -old Giles; how sheepishly some village notabilities were peeping at the -new lady of Bindon as she paused to lay her wedding flowers on the stone -that had but so lately been shifted for the laying to rest of Bindon’s -sorcerer; how deeply these same good people curtsied—deepest those who -had been most anxious to bring faggots for a witch’s pyre; how loud a -cheer gave Joe Barnwall, whose pitchfork thrust had nearly ended all -weal and woe for her but a month ago; with what strenuous childish -importance the chubby hand that had flung stones at her, now helped to -strew flowers before her bridal foot! - -Then a golden day at the rectory—long and yet strangely short. There was -a wonderful wedding feast of four—which the rector vastly commended. -They had the first pears from the rector’s pear-tree. And the rector and -his lady quoted, after their special fashion, to their heart’s content. -The rector gave a toast and made a little speech, with as much gusto, as -felicitous a turn of phrase and as elegant a delivery as if he had been -presiding at the most select gathering Oxford dignity could produce. - -At sunset, however, the moment fixed by herself for walking forth with -her husband to her home, Ellinor suddenly awoke—awoke to the fact that -she was married to her beloved, that she was his and he was hers, for -ever; that they were starting on their new life together—and yet that -there still was something between them! - -Her secret was still untold; that secret once so heavy, now so glad; -that secret which once she had guarded with so anxious watch upon -herself, which now the minutes were all too slow till she could set it -free! - -He had not asked for it: he never would. Better than all, he was content -to believe in her. He, whom a diseased mistrust of his fellow-creatures -had driven from the world for the best part of his life, could show to -her, now in circumstances so extraordinary, this beautiful blind -confidence. Oh, how she loved him for it! How rich, since he loved her -thus, should be his reward! How happy was she in this planning of the -supreme moment of his joy! So, with the touch of the rector’s fatherly -hand upon her brow, and aunt Sophia’s last tear-bedewed kiss upon her -cheek; with her familiar old grey cloak wrapped round her wedding -finery, and the little bunch from the Herb-Garden (Barnaby’s quaint -offering) sweet upon her breast, she passed forth from the little -autumnal orchard into the vast green spaces of the park. Close against -David she pressed, leaning upon him, walking in thought-laden silence. -In silence too he went, respecting her mood; but each time he turned his -face upon her under the yellow light, she marked its radiance; and in -the quivering trouble of her joy all the web of her pretty schemes -seemed shaken apart, so that she was fain to begin to weave afresh. - -It was a lemon and orange sunset reflected round the sky—the sunset that -presages storm—and the wind was already high and tore with swelling -organ-chant through the trees of the avenue; a great mild west wind, -booming up from the woods, hurling past them with a beat as of wide soft -wings and rushing on with its song of triumph. - -“Let us go by the wood,” said Ellinor. He turned to her quickly, the -glory of the sinking day in his eyes. - -“To you too, then,” he said, “this is a good hour! Listen to our wedding -choral that the wind now sings in the arches of these trees.” - -They turned across the turf towards where elm and ash, oak and scented -pine made a night of their own already, though at the top of many a -swaying bough the thrush and the blackbird still piped to the gleaming -west; though the rooks were still circling and the first star shone no -brighter than a small white daisy in a strip of eastward sky, faintly -green like a fairy field. In the woody depths they drew yet closer -together. Here, though the wind-voices were never hushed at all, but -kept up their chant continuously overhead, the lower spaces seemed so -still, that the lovers almost thought to go in silence beneath a canopy -of sound. They heard the faintest leaf whisper as they passed it, and -the tiniest twig snap beneath their tread. Suddenly David halted. - -“Strange,” said he, passing his hand across his brow. “How often there -has come upon me of late a memory as of a dream—a dream of woods and of -you. A dream of woods and of love! And yet you were not with me. Nay, -now it comes back; you were not with me, but I was going to you; and the -trees were all speaking of you and bidding me haste to you. A mad dream, -but sweet!” - -He would have clasped her to him but she, who had listened with her -heart beating so happy-fast that it would scarce let her draw breath, -held him away with soft hands: - -“Oh, David,” she panted, “think back on that dream again!” - -“It is gone,” he answered, smiling, “the reality is so much sweeter!” - -She stood still holding him from her and yet to her, with a delicate -touch. His words had suddenly cleared before her a golden path: the -heart that loves has its own flashes of genius.—Yes, it should be so, -she resolved. - -She drew a long breath. Without another word she passed her arm within -his again and led him on. He allowed himself to be guided whither she -would in glad obedience; all she did this hour was well done for him. - -It was full night when they left the dim aisles of trees and the high -sighing choirs, and emerged into the windswept fields. Ellinor looked up -at the sky: - -“It will be a night of stars,” she said. “Thank God!” - -“Ah, love,” he answered her, “my heaven is on earth to-night!” - -She nodded her head, with a flickering enigmatic smile; and in another -spell of silence she brought him, through the shrubbery tangle, to that -spot where, across the ivied ruined walls and the spaces of the -Herb-Garden, the light from her gable-window had been wont to shine out -through the summer nights. - -“David,” she whispered—he could feel how she trembled beside him as she -spoke, could almost hear the flutter of her heart through her -voice—“will you do all I bid you to-night?” - -“Surely,” he made answer with infinite gentleness. - -“Then, David, will you wait till from here you can see my light, the -light in the window of my old room! And then, David, when the light -shines, will you come to me there?” - -Close though they stood together in the gloom, neither could see the -other’s face but as a dim whiteness. Yet, at these words, Ellinor felt -how the serenity that her husband’s countenance had worn all the evening -was broken up and swept away by a storm of passion—a passion as wide in -its strength and yet as tender as the wild west gale that now in its -rush embraced them and passed on, hymning. - -He bowed his head, because he could not trust himself in words, and -because the other answer he would have given her, the answer of -straining arms and eager silent lips, she once again eluded. - -The next instant he was alone with the choir of the elements, the great -gathering company of the stars, and his own tumultuous thoughts. - - -Ellinor was back in the little room that had held her as child and -widow; that now received her, a bride trembling on the verge of joy. - -No one had expected the lady of Bindon to go back to this humble nest. -There was a great belighted and beflowered apartment awaiting her in -state, somewhere in the house; whereas here, shutters were barred and -all was in darkness, spiced of lavender and dried roses. She laid down -the lamp she had culled from a wall on her secret way, and set about her -preparations with the haste that will not stay to think. - -Off with the grey satin robes that she had trailed across the dew-sprent -grass and the brown wood paths; down with the curls and twists and the -high-jewelled combs wherewith Madam Tutterville had so lovingly adorned -her bridal head.... All her glorious hair in one loose unbound coil; -thus——! Now, from the recesses of yonder press the white loose -long-folded wrapper which, in her mourning flight, she had deemed -unsuitable for the small trunk of the working woman. And now, over all, -the great grey cloak once more! - -This done, she lifted the lamp again and held it while she stood a -second before the mirror. Yes! so must she have looked, upon that night -of false joy—that night of delusions and terrors. But truly, not with -that fire of expectancy in her eye, those chasing blushes and pallors on -her cheeks, that flock of rosy smiles that no effort of will could keep -away for long! - -Now was the moment come to unbar the shutters and set the casement wide, -to let in the breath of the late honeysuckle, the exotic fragrances of -poor Master Simon’s ravaged garden—to let out, across the wide spaces, -the summoning beams of her lamp! - -She held it aloft a moment, then lit a rushlight: for in not one detail -must she omit anything of that Lammas-night’s dream-scene to be -re-enacted, this time with awakened senses, to the assuring of their -great comfort. And then, between the inner and the outer rooms she -stood, bare-footed, waiting, listening—the one anguished moment of that -happy day! - -And yet not long had she to wait. With incredible speed came the sounds -for which her heart yearned so fiercely; light, unfaltering steps, -approaching along the echoing stone passage; the door of the outer room -opening, it seemed, at the same instant ... and David stood before her, -out of the darkness! David, with shining eyes, the heavy hair tossed -back from his forehead, with the pungent breath of the night woods -hanging about his garments. - -“Come in, David,” said she and strove to make her tones as placid in her -tremulous expectancy as, on that other night, they had been in her -desperate courage. - - -She stepped back into the inner room as she spoke, and he followed. Ah, -here the parallel ceased! Followed her, not with the dilated gaze of the -sleep-walker, unknowing, unconscious; but as the strong man crosses the -threshold of his beloved’s chamber, in passionate reverent realisation. - -From her taper she lit all the candles, and then turned to him with a -smile that quivered upon thrust-down tears. - -“Sit down, dear cousin, and we can talk a little; but not for long”—here -the smile, emboldened, became tender, faintly mischievous— “but not -long, for we both must sleep!” - -A second he had watched her unexpected ways with amazement: but at her -words, arrested on his impulse towards her, he stood and again clasped -his forehead. His eye ran over her figure from loosened hair to bare -feet. - -“The dream again!” he said in a whisper. A sort of bewilderment, a -trouble gathered upon his splendour of happiness. - -Ellinor broke in quickly: she must not keep her beloved in perplexity. -Every word of what she wanted to say was imprinted on her memory; no -need here to hesitate. She leaned towards him, a lovely Sibyl, finger on -lip, and poured her mysterious message into his soul. - -“Remember,” said she, “remember, David, the blessed cup I gave you and -how it set you free. It ran like fire through your veins, it drove you -out into the wood, under the singing trees. Those trees took voices: ‘Go -to her,’ they sang, and waved their arms. They ran with you, and you -came, leaping over the mountains. Love, you have come, and you are free, -free to love me!” - -“Ellinor!” he cried, and caught her hands in his. Ever nearer she bent -to him, ever more tenderly. Oh, surely never man heard words so sweet, -so sweetly spoken on his bridal night! - -“You knew I was waiting for you, in my white garments, with my light -burning. You knew that, because of my faithful heart.” - -When she said this, even as before on that Lammas-tide, he kissed both -her hands. But he had no word for her. Yet she saw how the radiance of -her dawn strove with the clouds of his doubt and darkness. - -“Always, since first we met,” she went on, “have our hearts been singing -to each other. I have stood beside you on your tower ... perhaps you did -not know it always,” the tears brimmed to her lashes, but the dimple by -her smile was arch as she paraphrased his unforgettable words to suit -her woman’s lips: “In the dawn you sought me in the garden....” - -She was halting now, stammering a little. He had dropped her hand. - -“What trial is this!” he cried. “What test do you put me to? Your words -bring me back to the past and sweet, though they are, there is trouble -mingled with them. Ellinor, why drive me back to dreams when I am at -last awake! Ellinor, Ellinor, the past is gone but the present I will -hold!” - -He caught her in his arms, strong arms of love. This in sooth was no -dream-wooer! - -“But, David,” she said, “it is because of the present that I want you to -go back to the past. Oh, David, for love of me, go back to that night -when you took the cup from my hand and you had a long, long sleep! Did -you not dream?” - -The tide of crimson that rushed into her face at these words was -reflected in flame upon his. He would soon know now. The gossamer veil -which still divided him from the truth was being rift. Yet a last -diffidence kept down the cry of understanding on his lips. And still -they were seeking hers in passionate silence. But that kiss which he -would fain have had; that kiss which might have been the kiss of -revelation, Ellinor held in reserve to be the seal of their acknowledged -joy. She turned her head to glance out of the window. - -The great moment of her life had struck at last. The very harmony of the -heavens seemed to be working for its record. The stars, in their -passionless courses, had had strange influence over the life of that -poor child of earth; and now it was as if they that had mocked her were -making gracious atonement. Serene and aloof, the stately measure that -had held at midnight the new-gemmed Northern Crown over the lovers’ mad -meeting on that past Lammas-tide, was now unfolding at the ninth hour -the self-same aspect of glory over their bridal joy. Against the line of -David’s tower, just emerging out of blackness, the light of the new -star, even as she looked, glided forth upon them. - -“See, love,” she called, and gently turned his face towards the -casement: “See, our Star—” - -And, as he looked, he saw. Deep into his soul dropped the tender beam; -and with it a revelation that seemed to fire where it struck. He gave a -loud cry: “The dream, the dream!” then fell at her feet. “So strong, so -chaste, so silent!... Oh, my wife!” - -The tears streamed down her face as she stooped to raise him to her -lips. - -“The dream-life is over, David. We stand upon the threshold of the -golden chamber. Shall we not enter?” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STAR DREAMER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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. 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} -</style> - </head> - <body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The star dreamer, by Agnes Castle</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The star dreamer</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A romance</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Authors: Agnes Castle</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Egerton Castle</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 5, 2023 [eBook #69711]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STAR DREAMER ***</div> - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE STAR DREAMER</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='border'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='xlarge'>BY THE SAME AUTHORS</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><em>By Egerton Castle</em></div> - </div> -</div> - - <dl class='dl_1'> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Young April</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Light of Scarthey</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Marshfield the Observer</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Consequences</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>English Book-Plates</span>—Ancient and Modern (<em>Illustrated</em>) - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Schools and Masters of Fence.</span> A History of the Art of the Sword - from the Middle Ages to the Nineteenth Century. (<em>Illustrated</em>) - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Jerningham Letters.</span> (<em>With Portraits</em>) - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Le Roman du Prince Othon.</span> A rendering in French of R. L. - Stevenson’s <span class='sc'>Prince Otto</span>. - </dd> - </dl> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><em>By Agnes and Egerton Castle</em></div> - </div> -</div> - - <dl class='dl_1'> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Pride of Jennico</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Bath Comedy</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The House of Romance</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Secret Orchard</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Star Dreamer</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Incomparable Bellairs.</span> (<em>In the Press</em>) - </dd> - </dl> - -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_frontispiece.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>THE HERB-GARDEN<br><br><em>An ancient gateway, looking as though it were closed forever ... and, through the bars, the wild, imprisoned garden....</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c003'>THE STAR DREAMER<br> <span class='xlarge'><em>A ROMANCE</em></span></h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>BY</div> - <div><span class='large'>AGNES <span class='fss'>AND</span> EGERTON CASTLE</span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'><em>Authors of</em></span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'>“THE PRIDE OF JENNICO,” “YOUNG APRIL,” “THE SECRET ORCHARD,” “THE HOUSE OF ROMANCE,” “THE BATH COMEDY,” ETC.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/title.jpg' alt='' class='ig001'> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>NEW YORK</div> - <div>FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY</div> - <div>PUBLISHERS</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='small'><span class='sc'>Copyright, 1903,</span></span></div> - <div><span class='small'><span class='sc'>By</span> EGERTON CASTLE.</span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'><em>All rights reserved.</em></span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'>PUBLISHED IN JANUARY, 1903.</span></div> - <div class='c002'><span class='small'>Press of</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>Braunworth & Co.</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>Bookbinders and Printers</span></div> - <div><span class='small'>Brooklyn, N. Y.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><span class='large'>TO</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>LADY STANLEY</span></div> - <div>(DOROTHY TENNANT)</div> - <div class='c004'>HERSELF SO GRACIOUS AN IMPERSONATION OF GIFTED AND GENEROUS WOMANHOOD, THIS STORY OF A WOMAN’S INFLUENCE IS DEDICATED, IN ESTEEM, SYMPATHY, AND FRIENDSHIP, BY THE AUTHORS</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0'> - <tr> - <td class='c006' colspan='2'><span class='sc'>The Argument</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_vii'>vii</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006' colspan='2'><span class='sc'>Introductory</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_ix'>ix</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'> </td> - <td class='c009'> </td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='3'>BOOK I.</td></tr> - <tr> - <th class='c008'><span class='small'>CHAPTER</span></th> - <th class='c009'> </th> - <th class='c007'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>I.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Fair, Young Capable Hands</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>II.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Mass of Selfishness</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_13'>13</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>III.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Rustling Leaves of Memory</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_18'>18</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>IV.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Back at a New Door of Life</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_24'>24</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>V.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Quenchless Stars Eloquent</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_34'>34</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VI.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Eyes, Blue as His Star</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_40'>40</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>New Roads Unfolding</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_50'>50</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Warm Heart, Superfluous Wisdom</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_56'>56</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>IX.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Healing Herbs, Warning Texts</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>X.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Compact and Acceptance</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_73'>73</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XI.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Laying the Ghosts</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Kindly Epicure</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_92'>92</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'> </td> - <td class='c009'> </td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='3'>BOOK II.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>I.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Midsummer Sunrise</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_105'>105</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>II.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'><em>EUPHROSINE</em>, Star-of-Comfort</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>III.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Queen of Curds and Cream</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_120'>120</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>IV.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Open-Eyed Conspiracy</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_127'>127</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>V.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Evil Prompter, Jealousy</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VI.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Perfect Rose, Drooping</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_150'>150</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Nods and Wreathéd Smiles</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_157'>157</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Grey Gown and Red Roses</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_164'>164</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>IX.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Rider Into Bath</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_174'>174</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_vi'>vi</span> </td> - <td class='c009'> </td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='3'>BOOK III.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>I.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Little Master of Bindon</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_181'>181</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>II.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Tottering Life and Fortune</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_188'>188</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>III.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Straws on the Wind</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>IV.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Shock and a Revelation</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_200'>200</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>V.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Silent Night the Refuge</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_207'>207</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VI.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Lust of Renunciation</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_215'>215</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Shadows of the Heart of Youth</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_224'>224</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>VIII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Herb Euphrosine</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_232'>232</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>IX.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>An Ominous Jingle</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_239'>239</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>X.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Vague Desperate Scheme</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_245'>245</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XI.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Parlour of Perfume</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_252'>252</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>To Sleep—Perchance To Dream!</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_262'>262</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XIII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Thou Canst Not Say I Did It</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_274'>274</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XIV.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Jealous Watchers of the Night</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XV.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Simpler’s Euthanasia</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XVI.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>The Time is Out of Joint</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_297'>297</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XVII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Treacheries of Silence</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_311'>311</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XVIII.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Gone Like a Dream</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_319'>319</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>XIX.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Grey Departure</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_331'>331</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'> </td> - <td class='c009'> </td> - <td class='c007'> </td> - </tr> - <tr><td class='c010' colspan='3'>BOOK IV.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>I.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Ah Me, the Might-have-been!</span></td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_341'>341</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>II.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Messenger of Glad Tidings</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_350'>350</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>III.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>Not Words, but Hands Meeting</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_359'>359</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c008'>IV.</td> - <td class='c009'><span class='sc'>A Dream of Woods and of Love</span>,</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_367'>367</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE ARGUMENT</h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>I have clung</div> - <div class='line'>To nothing, lov’d a nothing, nothing seen</div> - <div class='line'>Or felt but a great dream! O I have been</div> - <div class='line'>Presumptuous against love, against the sky,</div> - <div class='line'>Against all elements, against the tie</div> - <div class='line'>Of mortals each to each....</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>... Against his proper glory</div> - <div class='line'>Has my soul conspired; so my story</div> - <div class='line'>Will I to children utter, and repent.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>There never lived a mortal man, who bent</div> - <div class='line'>His appetite beyond his natural sphere</div> - <div class='line'>But starv’d and died....</div> - <div class='line'>Here will I kneel, for thou redeemest hast</div> - <div class='line'>My life from too thin breathing: gone and past</div> - <div class='line'>Are cloudy phantasms!</div> - <div class='line in42'>—<span class='sc'>Keats.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_ix'>ix</span> - <h2 class='c005'>INTRODUCTORY</h2> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='sc'>Concerning Bindon-Cheveral.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><em>An ancient gateway, looking as though it were closed -for ever; with its carved stone pillar bramble-grown, its -scrolled ironwork yielded to silence and immobility, to -crumbling rust—and through the bars the wild imprisoned -garden....</em></p> - -<p class='c013'><em>The haunting of the locked door, of the condemned -apartment in a house of life and prosperity, how unfailingly -it appeals to the romantic fibre! Yet, more suggestive -still, in the heart of a rich and trim estate, is the forbidden -garden jealously walled, sternly abandoned, weed-invaded, -falling (and seemingly conscious of its own -doom) into a rank desolation. The hidden room is enigmatic -enough, but how stirring to the fancy this peep of -condemned ground, descried through bars of such graceful -design as could only have been once conceived for the -portals of a garden of delight!—Thus stands, in the midst -of the nurtured pleasaunces of Bindon-Cheveral, the curvetting -iron gate leading to the close known on the estate -as the Garden of Herbs—a place of mystery always, as -reported by tradition; and, by the legend touching certain -events in the life of one of its owners, a place of somewhat -sinister repute. Even in the eyes of the casual -visitor it has all the air of</em></p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'><em>Some complaining dim retreat</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>For fear and melancholy meet.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_x'>x</span><em>And in truth</em> (<em>being fain to pursue the quotation -further</em>)</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'><em>I blame them not</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Whose fancy in this lonely spot</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Was moved.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'><em>Ancient haunts of men have numberless tongues for -those who know how to hear them speak; therein lies -the whole secret of the fascination that they cast, even -upon the uninitiated. Those, on the other hand, whose -minds are attuned to the sweetness of “unheard melodies” -turn to such places of long descent with the -joy of the lover towards his bridal chamber, for the -wedding of fantasy with truth. Divers, indeed, and -many, might be the tales which the walls of Bindon-Cheveral -could tell, from what remains of its old battlements -to the present mansion.</em></p> - -<p class='c012'><em>Its front, which the passer-by upon the turnpike-road -may in leafless winter-time descry at the end of the long -avenue of elms, has the peaceful and rich stateliness -of the Jacobean country seat—but there is scarce a stone -of its grey masonry, with its wide mullioned windows, -its terrace balustrades and garden stairways, that has not -once been piled to the arrogant height from which the -Bindon Castle of stark Edward’s times looked down upon -the country-side. The towers and walls are gone; but -the keep still stands, sleeping now and shrouded under -centuries of ivy—a kindly massive prop to the younger -house, its descendant. The ornamental waters were once -defensive moats: red they have turned with other than -the sunset glow, and secretly they have rippled to different -causes than the casting of a careless stone or the -leap of the great fat carp after a bait. Where the pleasure-grounds -are now stretched in formal Italian pride -spread, centuries back, the outer bailey of the once -famous, now forgotten, stronghold.</em></p> - -<p class='c013'><em>Stirring would be the Romance of old Bindon I could -recount, as old Bindon revealed it to me—many the tales -<span class='pageno' id='Page_xi'>xi</span>of love, of deeds, of hatred, of ambition. I could tell -brave things of the builder of the Castle, and how he held -the keep in defiance of Longshanks’ royal displeasure; -or of the Walter, Lord of Bindon, Knight of the Garter, -High Treasurer to the last Lancaster, and of his fortunes -between the Two Roses; or yet of his grandson, beheaded -after Hexham; and, under Richard Crookback, of the -transfer of the good lands of Bindon to the “Jockey of -Norfolk” who perished on Bosworth Field.—And these -would be tales of clash of steel and waving banner as -well as of wily diplomacy. Great figures would stalk -across my page; it would be shot with scarlet and gold, -royal colours; and high fortunes, those of England herself, -would be mingled with the lesser doings of knight -and baron.</em></p> - -<p class='c012'><em>I could set forth the truth touching some of those inner -tragedies, now legendary, that the warlike walls once -witnessed after the first Tudor had restored the estate of -Bindon to the last descendant of its rightful owner, a -Cheveral, whereby the line of Bindon-Cheveral joined on -the older branch.—There was the Agnes Cheveral of the -ballad singers—“so false and fair”—who left the tradition -of poison in the wine cup as a fate to be dreaded by -the Lords of Bindon.—And there was the Sir Richard -who kept his childless wife a life-long prisoner in the -topmost chamber of that keep now so placidly dreaming -under its creepers!</em></p> - -<p class='c012'><em>Or I could reel you a bustling Restoration narrative of -the doing of the Edmund Cheveral known in the family -as Edmund the Spendthrift, who had roamed England, -hunted and fasting, with Charles; had stagnated with -him, had junketed and roystered in Holland. He it was -who brought over the shrewish little French wife and -her great fortune, and also foreign notions of display, -to old English Bindon. He it was who pulled down the -gloomy loopholed walls, built the present House, laid -out the park and the renowned gardens; who introduced -the carp into the pacific moat after the fashion of French -<span class='pageno' id='Page_xii'>xii</span>châteaux; and who, bitten with fanciful scientific aspiration—a -friend of Rupert and a member of the Royal -Society—laid out in a sunken and wall-sheltered part of -the old fortified ground an inner pleasaunce of exotic -plants and shrubs, after the manner of Dutch Physick-Gardens.</em></p> - -<p class='c012'><em>Or would you have the story of the new heir—a silent, -dark man—and of his mystic Welsh wife and of the -new wealth and strain of blood that came with her -into the race? Or again, no doubt for those who -care to hear the call of horn and hounds, to see the -port pass over the mahogany; who find your three-bottle -man the best company and the jokes of the stable and of -the gun-room the only ones worth cracking with the -walnut, there were a pleasant rollicking chapter or two -to be chronicled anent the generation of fox-hunting, hard-living -Squires who kept Bindon prosperous, made its -cellars celebrated and its hospitality a byword.</em></p> - -<p class='c013'><em>And yet, my fancy lingers upon the spot where it was -first awakened; dwells on the story of the deserted Physick-Garden, -with its closed exquisitely-wrought gate, its -mystery and its melancholy; with its wildness wherein -lies no hint of sordidness, but rather a fascinating, elusive -beauty. It is of this that I fain would write.</em></p> - -<p class='c012'><em>Standing barred out, in this still autumn twilight, as -the first stars flash out faintly on the deepening vault; -gazing upon its overgrown paths, where the leaves of so -many summers make rich mould; inhaling its strange -fragrances, the scent of the wholesome decay of nature -mixed with odd spices that come from far lands; hearing -the wild birds cry as they fly free in its imprisoned space—it -seems to me as if the spirit of my romance dwelt in -these, and I could evoke it.</em></p> - -<p class='c013'><em>A tale of well-nigh a century ago; when George III. -lay dying.—It was a strangely silent Bindon then; and -the whole house seemed to lie under much such a spell -<span class='pageno' id='Page_xiii'>xiii</span>as now holds its Herb-Garden. Yet those same garden paths, -if wild, were not deserted; and the gate, -though locked to the world at large, still rolled upon its -hinges for one or two who had the key.</em></p> - -<p class='c012'><em>In those days of slow journeys and quick adventure, -had you been a traveller on the turnpike-road between -Devizes and Bath, you could not, looking over the park -wall from your high seat, but have been struck by the -brooding, solitary look that lay all upon this great House, -with its shuttered windows and upon these wide lands, so -rich, yet so lonely.</em></p> - -<p class='c012'><em>The driver of the coach would, no doubt, have pointed -with his whip; his tongue would have been ready to wag—was -not Bindon one of the wonders of his road?</em></p> - -<p class='c012'>“<em>Aye, you might well say it looked strange! There -were odd stories about the place, and odd folk living -there, if all folk said were true. The owner, Sir David -Cheveral (as good blood as any in the county, and once as -likely a young man as one could wish to see), had turned -crazy with staring at the stars and took no bit nor sup -but plain bread and water. That was what some said; -and others that he was bewitched by an old kinsman of -his that lived with him—an old, old man, bearded like a -Jew, who could not die, and who practised spell-work on -the village folk. That was what others said. Anyhow, -they two lived in there quite alone; one on his tower, the -other underground. And that was true. And the flowers -bloomed in the garden, and the fruit ripened on the walls; -there were horses in the stables and cattle in the byres -(the like of which could not be bettered in Wiltshire); -the whole place was flowing with milk and honey, as they -say, and the only ones to use it all were the servants! Oh, -there the servants grew fat and did well, while the master -looked up to the skies and grew lean.</em>”</p> - -<p class='c012'><em>And presently, to the sound of your driver’s jovial laugh -the coach would bowl clear of the long grey walls, emerge -from under the overhanging branches; and then the well-known -stretch of superb scenery suddenly revealed at the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_xiv'>xiv</span>bend of the road would perhaps so engross your attention -that your transient traveller’s interest in the eccentric, -world-forsaking master of Bindon-Cheveral would no -doubt have evaporated.</em></p> - -<p class='c013'><em>But pray you who travel with me to-day give me longer -patience. I have to tell the story of Bindon’s awakening.</em></p> - -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE STAR DREAMER</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>BOOK I</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart.</div> - <div class='line in22'><span class='sc'>Wordsworth</span> (<cite>Sonnets</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE STAR DREAMER</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> - <h3 class='c015'>CHAPTER I<br> <span class='large'>FAIR, YOUNG, CAPABLE HANDS</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>Alone and forgotten, absolutely free,</div> - <div class='line'>His happy time he spends, the works of God to see</div> - <div class='line'>In those wonderful herbs which here in plenty grow,</div> - <div class='line'>Whose sundry strange effects he only seeks to know,</div> - <div class='line'>And choicely sorts his simples got abroad,</div> - <div class='line'>And dreams of the All-Heal that is still on the road....</div> - <div class='line in30'>—<span class='sc'>Drayton</span> (<cite>Polyolbion</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>On that evening of the autumnal equinox Master -Simon Rickart—the simpler or the student as -he liked to call himself, the alchemist as many -held him to be—alone, save for the company of his cat, -in his laboratory at the foot of the keep, was luxuriating -as usual in his work of research.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The black cat sat by the wood fire and watched the -man.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As Master Simon moved to and fro, the topaz eyes -followed him. When he spoke (which he constantly did -to himself, under his voice and disjointedly, after the -wont of some solitary old people) they became narrowed -into slits of cunning intelligence. But when the observations -were personally addressed to his Catship, Belphegor -blinked in comfortable acknowledgment. “As wise as -Master Simon himself,” the country folk vowed: and -indeed, wherever the fame of the alchemist had spread -through the country-side, so had that of the alchemist’s -cat.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>There were two fires in the laboratory. One of timber, -that roared and crackled its life away and sank into an -ever increasing heap of fair white ash. In the vault-like -room this fire burned year in year out on a hearth hewn -many feet into the deep wall; and from many points of -view Belphegor found it vastly more satisfactory than the -other fire, which generally engrossed the best of his -master’s attention. That was a stealthy red glow, nurtured -on a wide stove built into another wall recess, -sheltered behind a glass screen under a tall hood:—a -fire productive of the strangest smells, at times evil, -but as often sweet and aromatic: a fire also productive -on occasions of coloured vapours and dancing -flamelets of suspicious nature. There, as the cat knew, -happened now and again unexpected ebullitions, disastrous -alike to the nerves and to the fur. In his kitten -days, Belphegor, led ostensibly by overpowering affection -but really by the constitutional curiosity of his genus, -had been wont to accompany his chosen master behind -the screen. He knew better now. And there was a bald -spot near the end of his tail, where no amount of licking -on his part, no cunning unguent of Master Simon’s himself -could to this day induce a hair to grow again.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The old man had closed the door of the stove; rearranged, -crown-like, a set of glass vessels of engaging -shapes: alembics and matrasses, filled with decoctions of -green and amber, gorgeous colours shot with the red reflection -of the fire; tucked a baby-small porcelain crucible -in its fireclay cradle and banked the glowing cinders -around it. The touch of the wrinkled hands was neat, -almost caressing. After a last look around, he emerged, -blowing a breath of content:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Everything in good trim, so far, for to-night’s work, -my cat.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And Belphegor blinked both eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Faint vapours, herb-scented, voluptuous, rose and -circled to the groined roof. The log fire on the hearth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>had fallen to red stillness. In the silence, delicate sounds -of bubbling and simmering, little songs in different keys, -gurgles as of fairy laughter, became audible.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hark to it!” said the simpler, and bent his ear with -a smile of satisfaction. He spoke in a monotonous undertone, -not unlike the muttering of the sleep-walker—“Hark -to it! There is a concert for you—new tunes -to-night, Belphegor. Strange, delightful! There is not -a little plant but has its own voice, its own soul-song. -Hark, how they yield them up! Good little souls! Bad -little souls, some of them, he, he! Enough in that retort -yonder to make helpless idiots, or dead flesh of a hundred -lusty men. Dead flesh of eleven such fine cats as -yourself and one kitten, he, he! Yet—for properly directed, -friend Belphegor, vice may become virtue—enough -here to keep the fever from the homestead for three -generations....”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The old man moved noiselessly in his slippers across -the stone floor, flung a couple of fresh logs on the sinking -hearth, then stretched out his frail hands to the blaze -and laughed gently. The flame light played fantastically -on his shrunken figure:—a being, it would seem, so ætherealised -that it scarcely looked as if blood could still -be circulating beneath that skin, like yellow ivory, -tensely stretched over the vast, denuded forehead and -the bold, high-featured face. Mind alone, one would -have thought, must animate that emaciated body; mind -alone light up those steel-blue eyes with such keenness -that, by contrast with the age-stricken countenance, they -shone with almost unearthly vitality.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The cat stretched himself, yawned; then advanced, -humping his back and bristling, to rub himself against -his master’s legs. The fire roared again in the chimney, -a score of greedy tongues licking up the last drops of -sap that oozed forth, hissing, from the beech logs.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aha,” said Master Simon, bending down somewhat -painfully to give a scratch to the animal’s neck, “that’s -the fire-song you prefer. I fear, I fear, Belphegor, you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>will never rise beyond the grossest everyday materialism!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Purring Belphegor endorsed the opinion by curling up -luxuriously on his head and stretching out his hind paws -to the flame. The little scene was an allegory of peace -and comfort. The old man, straightening himself, remained -awhile musing:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, it is good music—a song of the people. All -of the stout woods of Bindon, of the deep English earth, -of the salt English airs. No subtle virtue in it: a roaring -good tune, a homely smell and a heap of ash behind—but -all clean, my cat, clean!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He gathered the folds of his dressing-gown around -him; a garment that had once been wondrous fine and set -in fashion (in the days of his elegant youth) by no less -a person than his present Majesty, King George IV., -but now so stained, so singed and scorched and generally -faded, that its original hues were but things of memory.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And now we shall have a quiet hour before supper. -What a good thing, my cat, that neither you nor I are -attractive to company! The original man was created -to be alone. But the fool could not appreciate his bliss, -and so he was given a companion—a woman, Belphegor, -a woman!—and Paradise was lost.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Again Master Simon chuckled. It was a sound of -ineffable content, weirdly escaping through the nostrils -above compressed lips. He took up a lighted candle, -stepped carefully over the cat and, selecting between his -fingers a key from a bunch at his girdle, approached a -wooden press that cut off an angle of the room.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This was built of heavily carved black oak, secured -with sturdy iron hinges; had high double doors and small -peeping keyholes, suggestive of much cunning. It was -a press to receive and keep secrets. And yet, when the -panels were thrown open, nothing of more formidable -nature was displayed than rows upon rows of inner -drawers and shelves, the latter covered some with philosophical -instruments, others displaying piles of neatly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>ticketed boxes, ranks of phials, and sealed tubes of -various liquids or crystals that flashed in the light with -prismatic scintillation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Holding the candle above his head the old man -selected:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The box of Moorish powder from Tangiers—the -bottle of Java Water—the paste of <em>Cannabis Arabiensis</em>—the -<em>Hippomane Mancenilla</em> gum of Yucatan.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He placed the materials on a glass tray and carried -them over to the working table.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Excellent Captain Trevor! The simple fellow has -never done thanking me for curing him of his West -Coast fever with a course of <em>Herba Betonica</em>; he, he! the -common, ignored, humble Wood Betony. Thanking me—he, -he! Never did a pinch of powder bring better -interest...! Oh, my cat, I’m a mass of selfishness! -And here I have at last the Java Water and the -Yucatan gum!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The cat roused himself, walked sedately but circuitously -across the room, leaped up and took his position -with feet and tail well tucked in on the bare space left, -by right of custom, where the warmth of the lamp should -comfort his back.</p> - -<p class='c012'>On Master Simon’s table lay a row of small covered -watch-glasses, thin as films, each containing a small heap -of some greenish crystalline powder. A pair of chemical -scales held out slender arms within the walls of its glass -case. The neat array looked inviting.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With a noise as of rustling parchment the simpler -rubbed his hands; he was in high good humour. The -tall clock at the end of the room wheezed out the ghost -of nine beats, and the strangled sounds seemed but to -point the depth of the environing silence. For the thick -walls kept out all the voices of nature, and at all times -enwrapt the underground room with a solemn stillness -that gave prominence to its whispers of secret doings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nine o’clock!” muttered the self-communer. “Another -hour’s peace before even Barnaby break in upon us -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>with his supper tray. Hey, but this is a good hour! -This is luxury. I feel positively abandoned! Not a -soul in this whole wing of Bindon, save you and me—unless -we reckon our good star-dreamer above—good -youth with his head in the clouds. Heigh ho, men are -mostly fools, and all women! Therefore wisely did I -choose my only familiar—thou prince of reliable confidants.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The man stretched out his hand and caressed the -beast’s round head. Belphegor tilted his chin to lead -the scratching finger to its favourite spot.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hey, but man must speak—it is part of his incomplete -nature—were it only to put order in his ideas, to -marshall them without tripping hurry. And you neither -argue nor contradict, nor give a fool’s acquiescence. -You listen and are silent. Wise cat! Now, men are -mostly fools ... and all women!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon lifted the phial of Java Water, a fluid -of opalescent pink, between his eye and the light. He -removed the stopper and sniffed at it. Then compared -the fragrance with that of the Moorish powders, and -became absorbed in thought. At one moment he seemed, -absently, on the point of comparing the tastes in the -same manner, but paused.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, sir, not to-night,” he murmured. “We must -keep our brain clear, our hand steady. But it will be an -experiment of quite unusual interest—quite unusual.... -I am convinced the essential components are -the same.—Belphegor! Keep your nozzle off that gallipot! -Do you not dream enough as it is?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He pushed the turn-back cuffs still further from his -attenuated wrists, and with infinite precaution addressed -himself to the manipulation of his watch-glasses, silver -pincers and scales: the final stage of weighing and apportioning -the result of an analytical experiment of already -long standing was at hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His great white eyebrows contracted. Now, bending -close, he held his breath to watch the swing of the delicate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>balance; now with fevered fingers he jotted notes -and figures. At times a snapping hand, a clacking -tongue, proclaimed dissatisfaction; but presently, widening -his eyes and moistening his lips, he started upon a -fresh clue with renewed gusto.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The clock had ticked and jerked its way through the -better part of the hour when the weird muttering became -once more audible:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Curious, curious! Yet it works to my theory. Now -if these last figures agree it will be proof. Pshaw, the -scales are tired. How they fidget! Belphegor, my friend, -down with you, the smallest vibration would ruin my -week’s work. Down! Now let us see. As seventy-three -is to a hundred and twenty-five ... as seventy-three -is to a hundred and twenty-five.... A -plague on it!” exclaimed Master Simon pettishly, without -looking up. “There’s that Barnaby, of course in the -nick of wrong time!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>The door at the dim end of the room had been opened -softly. A puff of wood smoke had been blown down -the chimney. A tiny draught skimmed across the table; -the steady lamplight flickered and cast dancing shadows; -and Master Simon’s tense fingers trembled with irritation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“All to begin again. Curse you, Barnaby! You’re -deaf, I can curse you, thank Providence!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Without turning round he made a hasty, forbidding -gesture of one hand. The door was shut as gently as -it had been opened.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon gave a deep sigh, and still fixedly eyeing -the scales, stretched his cramped hands along the -table for a moment’s rest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now, now? Ha—Ho—What? Sixty-nine to eighty-two? -Impossible! Tchah! Those scales have the palsy—nay, -Simon Rickart, it is your impotent hand. Old -age, old age, my friend ... or stormy youth, -alas!” His muttering whisper rose to louder cadence. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>“Had you but known then, in your young folly, the -chains you were forging, for your aged wisdom! But -sixty to-day, and this senile trembling! Not a shake of -that hand, Simon, but is paying for the toss of the cup; -not a mist in that brain but is the smoke of wanton, bygone -fires. Well vast is the pity of it! Had you but the -hand now of that dreamer up above! Had you but the -virtue of his temperate life! And the fool is staring at -his feeble twinklers ... worshipping the unattainable, -while all rich Nature, here at hand, awaits the explorer. -Oh, to feel able to trace Earth mysteries to the -marrow of Man; to hold the six days’ wonder in one -single action of the mind ... and to be foiled at -every turn by the trembling of a finger!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He leaned back in his chair, long lines of discouragement -furrowing his face.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Behind him, in the silence, barely more audible than -the simmering sounds of the fires and the lembics, there -was a stir of another presence, quiet, but living. But -Master Simon, absorbed in his own world of thought, -perceived nothing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With closed eyes, he made another effort to conquer -the rebellious weakness of the flesh and bring it into -proper subjection to the merciless vigour of the mind. -At that moment the one important thing on earth to the -old student was the success of his analysis. And had the -Trump of Doom begun to sound in his ears, his single -desire would still have been to endeavour to conclude it -before the final crash.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Light footfalls in the room—not caused by Belphegor’s -stealthy paws, certainly not by Barnaby’s masculine foot—a -sound as of the rustle of a woman’s garments, a -sound unprecedented for years in these consecrated precincts, -failed to reach his faculties. Once more he drew -his chair forward, leant his elbows on the table, and, -stooping his head so that eyes and hands were nearly -on the same level, set himself to the exasperatingly delicate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>task of minute weighing. And the while he muttered -on with a droll effect of giving directions to himself:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The right rider, half a line to the right. That should -do it this time! Too much—bring it back! Faugh, out -of all gear! Too much back now. Fie, fie, confusion -upon my spinal cord—nerves, muscles, and the whole old -fumbling fabric!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Here, two hands, with unerring swoop like that of an -alighting dove, came out of the dimness on each side of -the bent figure, and with cool, determined touch -gently withdrew the old man’s hot and shaking fingers -from their futile task.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon’s ancient bones shook with a convulsive -start; a look of intense amazement passed into his straining -eye, then the faintest shade of a smile on his lips. -But, characteristically, he never turned his head or otherwise -moved: the business at hand was of too high import. -He sat rigid, silently watching.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The interfering hands now became busy for a space -with soft unhurried purpose. Beautiful hands they were, -white as ivory outside and strawberry pink within, taper-fingered -and almond-nailed; not too small, and capable -in the least of their movements. Compared to those other -hands that now lay, still trembling in pathetic supineness, -where they had been placed, they were as young shoots, -full of vital sap, to the barren and withered branch. A -woman’s warm presence enfolded the student. A young -bosom brushed by his bloodless cheek. A light breath -fanned his temples. A scent as of lavender bushes in -the sun, of bean fields in blossom, of meadowsweet among -the new-mown hay; something indescribably fresh, an -out-of-door breath as of English summer, spread around -him, curiously different from the essences of his phials -and stills. But Master Simon had no senses, no thought -but for the work those busy hands were now performing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The right rider, to the right, just half a line?” said -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>a voice, repeating his last words in a tranquil tone. “A -line—those little streaks on the arms are lines?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon assented briefly: “Yes.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The fingers moved.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Enough, enough!” ordered he. “Now back gently -till the needle swings evenly.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The pulse of the scales, hitherto leaping like that of a -frightened heart, first steadied itself into regularity and -then slowed down into stillness. The long needle pointed -at last to nought. The white hands hovered a second.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not another touch!” faintly screamed the old man.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He craned forward, his body again tense; gazed and -muttered, wrote and rapidly calculated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, yes, yes! Seventy-three to a hundred and -twenty-five—I was right—Eureka! The principles of -the two are the same. Right! Right!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now Simon Rickart, rubbing his hands, turned round -delightedly.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER II<br> <span class='large'>A MASS OF SELFISHNESS</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>... Such eyes were in her head;</div> - <div class='line'>And so much grace and power, breathing down</div> - <div class='line'>From over her arch’d brows, with every turn</div> - <div class='line'>Lived thro’ her to the tips of her long hands....</div> - <div class='line in26'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>The Princess</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>“Well, Father?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon started. His eyes shot -a look of searching inquiry at the young -woman who now came round to the side of the high -table, and bent down to bring her fresh face to a level -with his.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor? Not Ellinor, not my daughter...!” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor. The only daughter you ever had. The only -child, as far as I know!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The tranquil voice had a pleasant, matter-of-fact note. -The last words were pointed merely by a sudden deep -dimple at the corner of the lips that spoke them. But -it was trouble, amounting to agitation, that here took -possession of the father. He pushed his chair back from -the table, rubbed his hands through his scant silver locks, -tugged at his beard.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You’ve come on ... on a visit, I suppose?” -he said presently, with hesitation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have come to stay some time—a long time, if I -may.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But—Marvel, but your husband?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dead.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The dimple disappeared, but the voice was quite unaltered. -She had not shifted her position.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>“Dead?” echoed Master Simon. His eyes travelled -wonderingly from her black stuff gown—a widow’s gown -indeed—to the head with its unwidow-like crown of hair; -to the face so youthful, so curiously serene, so unmournful.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her hands were lightly clasped under the pointed white -chin. Here the father’s eyes rested; and from the chaos -of his disturbed mind the last element of his surprise -struggled to the surface and formulated itself into another -question:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Where is your wedding ring?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I took it off.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor Marvel straightened her figure.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Father,” she said, “we have always seen very little -of each other, but I know you spend your life as a -searcher after truth. Since we are now, as I hope, to live -together, you will be glad to take notice from the first -that I have at least one virtue: I am a truthful woman. -It will save a good deal of explanation if I tell you now -that, when the coach crossed the bridge this evening and -I threw into the waters of the Avon the gold ring I had -worn for ten miserable years, I said: ‘Thank God!’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Simon Rickart took a stumbling turn up and down -the room: his daughter stood watching him, motionless. -Then he halted before her and broke into a protest, by -turns incoherent, testy, and plaintive.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come to stay—stay a long time! But, this is folly! -We’ve no women here, child, except the servants. David -wants no women about him. I don’t want any women -about me! There’s not been a petticoat in this room -since you were last here yourself. And that, that’s ten -years ago. You will be very uncomfortable. You have no -kind of an idea of what sort of existence you are proposing -to yourself. I am a mass of selfishness. I should -make your life a burden to you. Be reasonable, my dear! -I am a very old man. Pooh, pooh, I won’t allow it! You -must go elsewhere. Hey, what?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I cannot go elsewhere, I have no money.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>“No money! But Marvel! But the fortune I gave -you? Tut, tut, what folly is this now?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gone, gone—and more! He would have died in the -Fleet had we not escaped abroad. The guineas I have -now in my purse are the last I own in the world. All -my other worldly goods are in the couple of trunks now -in the passage.” She stopped, and remained awhile silent, -then in a lower voice and slowly: “Look at me, father,” -she added, “can I live alone?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He looked as he was bidden. He, the man who had not -always been a recluse, the whilom man of the world who -in older years had taken study as a hobby, the man of -bygone pleasures, appraised her ripe woman’s beauty with -rapid discrimination. Then into the father’s eyes there -sprang a gleam of something like pride—pride of such a -daughter—a light of remembrance, a struggling tenderness. -The next moment the worn lids fell and the old -man stood ashamed:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I beg your pardon, my dear,” he said, gravely, and -sank into his chair.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She came round and looked down at him a moment -smiling.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You never heard me walk all about the room,” she -said, “I have a light tread. And I’ll always wear stuff -dresses here.” Then, more coaxingly: “I don’t think -you’ll find me much in the way, father. I’ve got good -eyes, I am remarkably intelligent”—she paused a second -and, thrusting out her hands under his brooding gaze, -added with a soft laugh: “And you know I’ve steady -hands!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He stared at the pretty white things. Faintly he murmured:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But I’m a mass of selfishness!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then I’ll be the more useful to you!” she cried gaily -and laid first her cool, young cheek, then her warm, young -lips upon his forehead.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The sap was not yet dead in the old branch, after all. -Master Simon’s body had not become the mere thinking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>machine he fain would have made it. There was blood -enough still in his old veins to answer to the call of its -own. Memories, tender, remorseful, all human, were -still lurking in forgotten corners of a brain consecrated, -he fancied, wholly to Science; memories which now -awoke and clamoured. Slowly he stretched out his hand -and touched his daughter’s cheek.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Poor child!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor Marvel now drew back quietly. Master Simon -passed a finger across his eyes and muttered that their -light was getting dim.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The lamp wants trimming,” she said, and proceeded -to do it with that calm diligence of hers that made her -activity seem almost like repose. But she knew well -enough that neither sight nor lamp was failing; and she -felt her home-coming sanctioned.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At this point something black and stealthy began to -circle irregularly round her skirts, tipping them with -hardly tangible brush, while a vague whirring as of a -spinning-wheel arose in the air. She stepped back: the -thing followed her and seemed to swell larger and larger, -while the whirrs became as it were multiplied and punctuated -by an occasional catch like the click of clockwork.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, look father!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a gay note in her voice. Master Simon -looked, and amazement was writ upon his learned countenance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Belphegor likes you!” he exclaimed, pulling at his -beard. “Singular, most singular! I have never known -the creature tolerate anyone’s touch but my own or -Barnaby’s.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Hardly were the words spoken when, with a magnificent -bound, Belphegor rose from the floor and alighted -upon her shoulder—at the exact place he had selected -between the white column of the throat and the spring -of the arm—and instantly folded himself in comfort, his -great tail sweeping her back to and fro, his head caressing -her cheek with the touch of a butterfly’s wing, his enigmatic -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>eyes fixed the while upon his master. Ellinor -laughed aloud, and presently the sound of Master Simon’s -nasal chuckle came into chorus. He rubbed his hands; -he was extraordinarily pleased, though quite unaware of -it himself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor sat on the arm of his winged elbow-chair—his -“Considering Chair,” as he was wont to describe it—and -looked around smiling.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Still at the same studies, father? How sweet it -smells in this room! It looks smaller than I remember -it. I once thought it was as big as a cathedral. But I -myself felt smaller then. How long ago it seems! And -what is that discovery that I came just in time for?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Rickart engaged willingly enough in the track -of that pleasant thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, my dear, simply that an old surmise of mine -was right. Ha, ha, I was right.... The active -principle of <em>Geranium Cyanthos</em> with the root of which, -as Fabricius relates—Fabricius, the great Dutch traveller -and plant-hunter—the Kaffir warlocks are said to cure -dysentery.... It is positively identical with a -similar crystalline substance which I have for many years -obtained from <em>Hedera Warneriensis</em>—the species of ivy -that grows about the ruins of Bindhurst Abbey, of which -mention is made by Prynne....”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Thus he rambled on with the selfish garrulity of the -old man in the grip of his hobby; presently, however, he -fell back to addressing himself rather than his listener, -and gradually subsided into reflectiveness. And once -more silence drew upon the room.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER III<br> <span class='large'>RUSTLING LEAVES OF MEMORY</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>... The garden-scent</div> - <div class='line'>Brings back some brief-winged bright sensation</div> - <div class='line'>Of love that came and love that went.</div> - <div class='line in24'>—<span class='sc'>Dobson</span> (<cite>A Garden Idyll</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Long drawn minutes, ticked off by the slow beat -of the laboratory clock, dropped into the abysm -of the past.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon, sunk in his chair, his head bent on his -breast, had fallen into a deep muse. His eyes, fixed upon -the face of his daughter—fair and thrown into fairer -relief by Belphegor’s black muzzle nestling close to it—had -gradually gathered to themselves that blank, unseeing -look which betrays a mind set upon inner -things.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor sat still, her shapely hands folded on her lap. -She was glad of the rest, for this was the end of a -weary journey. She was glad, also, of the silence, which -gave room to her clamourous thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Home again! The only home she had ever known. -For those last ten years seemed only like one hideous, interminable -voyage in which she, the unwilling traveller, -had been hurried from port to port without one hour -of rest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>To this house of peace, encircled by a triple ring of -silence—the great walls, the still waters of the moat, and -the vast, stately park with its mute army of trees—she -had first been brought at so early an age that any recollections -of other hearth or roof were as vague as those of a -dream-world. But vivid were the memories now crowding -back of her former life here—memories of rosy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>healthy childhood.—Aunt Sophia’s kind, foolish face and -her indulgent, unwise rule. Baby Ellinor rolling again -on the velvet sward and pulling off the tulip blossoms by -the head; child Ellinor ranging and roaming in stable and -farm, running wild in the gardens.... Nearly all -her joys were somehow mingled with gardens; with the -rosary in the pleasure-grounds, which she roamed every -day of the summer; with the old kitchen garden, where -she devoured the baby-peas and the green gooseberries; -with the Herb-Garden—the mysterious, the strictly forbidden, -the alluring Herb-Garden, her father’s living -museum of strange plants!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Between high walls it lay: a long, narrow strip, running -down to the moat on one side and abutting to the -blind masonry of the keep on the other. Here her father—an -ever more remote figure, and for some reason unintelligible -to her child’s mind, ever more detached from -the common existence of the house, took his sole taste -of air and sunshine. How often, peeping in through the -locked iron gates, she had watched him, with curiosity -and awe, as he passed and re-passed amid the rank luxuriance -of the herbs and bushes, so absorbed in cogitation -that his eyes, when they fell upon the little face behind -the bars, never seemed to see it.—The Herb-Garden! -Naturally, this one spot (where, it seemed, grew the fruit -of the knowledge of good and evil) had a vastly greater -attraction for the small daughter of Eve than the paradise -of which she had the freedom. Aunt Sophia had -warned her that the leaf of any one of those strange herbs -might be death! Yet visit the Herbary she often -did, all parental threats and injunctions notwithstanding, -by a secret entrance through the ruins of the -keep.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Strange that her thoughts should from the very hour -of her return home hark back so much to the Herb-Garden! -No doubt there was suggestion in all the sweet -smells floating now around her. She thought she recognised -<em>Camphire</em> and <em>Frangipanni</em>; but there were others -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>too, known yet nameless; and they brought her back to -the fragrant spot, the delights of which had so long been -forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her memories were nearly all of solitary childhood. -Sir David, the young master of Bindon, the orphan cousin -to whom Simon Rickart was in those days humourously -supposed to play the part of guardian, entered but little -into them, and then only as a grave Eton boy, disdainful -of her torn frocks, of her soiled hands, her shrill joyousness. -He and his sister Maud kept fastidiously aloof.... -Maud of the black ringlets and the fine frocks, -who from the first had made her little cousin realise the -gulf that must exist between the child of the poor -guardian and the daughter of the House.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But later came a change.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was Miss Ellinor—a tall maiden, suddenly alive to -the desirableness of ordered locks and pretty gowns; and -young Sir David began to assume importance within her -horizon. How these fleeting memories, evoked by the -essence of Master Simon’s distilling, were sailing in the -silence of the room round Ellinor’s head!</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was during his University years. The young master -brought into his house every vacation an extraordinary -stir of eager life. There came batches of favoured companions, -varying according to the mood of the moment:—youthful -philosophers who had got so far beyond the -most advanced thought of the age as to have lost all footing; -or exquisite young dandies, with lisps and miraculously -fitting kerseymere pantaloons and ruffles of lace -before which Miss Sophia opened wide mouth and eyes; -or again, serious, aristocratic striplings of earnest political -views.</p> - -<p class='c012'>During these invasions Aunt Sophia suddenly developed -a spirit of prudence quite unknown to her usual -practice, and Miss Ellinor, much to her disappointment, -was kept studiously in the background. Upon this head -cousin David entered suddenly into the narrow circle -of her emotions. Chafing against the unwonted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>restraint, Ellinor one day defied orders, and boldly -presented herself at the breakfast-table while her cousin -and two young men of dazzling beauty, all in hunting -pink and buckskins, were partaking of chops and coffee -under the chaste ægis of Miss Sophia Rickart’s ringlets.</p> - -<p class='c012'>How well Ellinor could recall the startling effect of -her entrance. She had walked in with that boldness -which girlish timidity can assume under the spur of a -strong will. Miss Sophia had gaped. Three pairs of -eyes were fixed upon the intruder. David’s serious gaze, -always so enigmatic to her. Then the Master of Lochore’s -red-brown orbs.—They were something of the -colour of his auburn hair. She had come under their -range before, and had hated them and him upon a sudden -instinct, all the more perhaps for the singular attachment -which David was known to have found for him.—The -third espial upon her was one of soft, yet piercing -blackness: she was pulled-up in her would-be nonchalant -advance as by an invisible barrier. David, long and lean -in his red and white, had risen and come across to her -with great deliberation. He had taken her hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cousin Ellinor,” he had said, in a voice of most gentle -courtesy, “you have been misinformed: Aunt Sophia -did not request your presence.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He had bowed, led her out across the threshold, bowed -again, and closed the door. There had been a shout from -within, expostulation and laughter. And she, without, -had stamped her sandalled foot and waited to hear no -more. With tears of bitter mortification streaming down -her cheeks she had rushed to her beloved old haunt in -the Herb-Garden, carrying with her an odious vision of -her cousin’s face as it bent over her; of his grave eyes, -so strangely light in contrast with the dark cheek; of the -satirical twist of his lips and the mock ceremony of his -manner.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But she had taken with her also another vision; and -that was then so consoling that, as she marched to and -fro among the fragrant bushes that were growing yellow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>and crisp under autumn skies, she was fain to let -her mind dwell lingeringly upon it. It was the black -broad stare of surprised admiration in young Marvel’s -eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Many a time, in the subsequent days, did the walls of -the forbidden gardens enfold her in their secrecy—but -not alone. He of the black eyes had heard of the secret -entrance and was by her side many a time—Aye, and -many a time, in the years that followed, had Ellinor told -herself, in the bitterness of her heart, how far better it -would have been for her then to have sucked the poison -of the most evil plant that had clung appealingly round -her as she brushed by, listening to young Marvel’s wooing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Those were days of courtship: an epidemic of sentiment -seemed to have spread through Bindon. Handsome, -ease-loving, bachelor parson Tutterville developed -a sudden energy in the courtship which had stagnated -for years between him and Aunt Sophia, on whose round -cheeks long-forgotten roses bloomed again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And David too! From one day to the other Sir David -Cheveral had received, it seemed, fair and square in his -virgin heart, virgin for all the brilliant and fast life he -seemed to lead, the most piercing dart in Love’s whole -quiver. He was one of those with whom such wounds -are ill to heal. Poor David!</p> - -<p class='c012'>In the prevailing atmosphere he of the black eyes had -got his own way easily enough. Marriage bells were the -music of the hour. Parson Tutterville led the way to -the altar with Miss Sophia’s ringlets drooping upon his -arm. Ellinor promptly followed, with lids that were not -easily drooped cast down under the blaze of the drowning -black stare. Ellinor the child, confident little moth throwing -her soul against the first alluring flame, to its torture -and undoing!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Well, all that was past! She had revived. She was -back at the door of life, stronger and wiser. But David? -David was also alone. After scaling to the pinnacle of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>the most exalted, devouring passion, he had had to go -down into the valley again, alone, carrying the sting in -his heart. Alone, always, she had heard. Poor David!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No!—Happy David,” said Ellinor aloud.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER IV<br> <span class='large'>BACK AT A NEW DOOR OF LIFE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Joy’s recollection is no longer joy</div> - <div class='line'>While sorrow’s memory is sorrow still!</div> - <div class='line in20'>—<span class='sc'>Byron</span> (<cite>Doge of Venice</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>“Eh?” said the old man.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He fixed his gaze once more upon his -daughter, and stared at her for a moment as -if her comely presence were but some freakish play of -his own senses.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Father?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The knotted wrinkles became softened into an unwilling -smile.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I spoke aloud, didn’t I?” said she. “It must be -an inherited trick! I was thinking of David. He never -thought more of marriage?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Marriage!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Will he never marry, father?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David, marry! Oh, pooh! David, wise man, has -consecrated his youth to his pursuit. Pity, though, he -did not choose a more satisfactory one!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Marvel lifted Belphegor from her shoulders to -the floor and drew her chair closer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You mean his star-gazing? He sits in his tower all -night, peering at the skies, ‘and dreams all day, like -an owl.’ That’s what Willum said when I questioned -him just now. Do you also call his a foolish pursuit?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He’s a visionary, a dreamer,” answered the other -testily. “A splendid mind, the vigour of a young brain ... and to waste it on the stars, on distant worlds -with which no telescope can ever bring him into any useful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>contact, from which no nights of study, were he to -live as long as Methuselah, will ever enable him to gain -one single grain heavy enough to weigh down that scale -there, that scale which as you saw, will not even bear a -breath unmoved! And all this world, child, all this -world!” In his enthusiasm the old man had risen and -now was pacing the room. “This teeming, inexhaustible -world of ours, full of marvellous, most subtle secrets yet -submissive to our investigation, from the mass that blocks -out our horizon to the tiniest atom that, even beneath this -glass,”—he was now by his work-table and his fingers -caressed the microscope—“is scarce visible to the eye, all -obedient to the same laws and amenable to our ken! With -all these treasures at his hand, awaiting him, he throws -away his life on the unattainable, on the stars, on moonshine!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The faded dressing-gown flapped about the speaker’s -lean legs as he walked; his white hair swung lightly over -his bent shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor looked after him with eyes of amusement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The short of it,” said she, “is that he prefers his -telescope to your microscope.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Fancy to fact, girl! Dreams to reality! Speculation -to uses! Ah, what should we not have done, we two, -had he been willing to work down here instead of up -there!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With a growl Master Simon returned to his sweet-smelling -furnace and began mechanically to feed the fires -with charcoal. She heard him mutter, as if to himself:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Work with me? Why, I hardly ever even see him! -David’s a ghost, rather than a man—a ghost that rises -with the evening shades and disappears at dawn; that -never speaks unless you charge him!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor remained silent a while, pondering. Presently -she said, in the voice of one who sees in what to others -seems incomprehensible a very simple proposition:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He lives, it would appear, uplifted in thoughts beyond -the sordid things of earth. He knows no disillusion, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>for the unattainable star will never crumble to ashes in -his hand. He will never see of what ugly clay the distant -and glorious planet may, after all, be made! I say: -happy David ... not to have married his first -love.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tush! Don’t you believe that David ever thinks of -love.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He made an impatient motion with the bellows and cast -over his shoulder a look of severity, of surprise that a -person who had shown herself capable of managing the -rider on his scale should endeavour to engage him in the -discussion of such trivialities in this appallingly short -life.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Their glances met. It was his own spirit that looked -back to him, brightly defiant, out of eyes as brilliant and -as searching as his own, and as blue.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“These things, these unconsidered trifles of hearts -and hopes and sorrows, they’re quite beneath notice, are -they not, father? You know no more of the woman -that drove poor David to the top of his tower—the David -I remember was not a recluse—than you did of the -dashing, handsome youth to whom you handed over your -only child ... that she might live happy ever -after!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The widow laughed. But it was with a twist of her -ripe, red mouth and a harsh sound like the note of an -indignant bird.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The old man, remained arrested for a space, stooping -over the stove with the bellows poised in his hand, as if -the meaning of her words were slowly filtering to his -brain. Then, letting his implement fall with a little -clatter, he shuffled back towards his daughter and stood -again gazing at her, his lips moving noiselessly, his eye -dim and troubled. Master Simon’s mind, trained to such -alertness in dealing with a certain set of ideas, groped -like that of a child in the endeavour to lay hold of the -new living problem.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At length he put out a trembling finger and timidly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>laid it for a second on her hand. She looked up at him -with an altered expression, infinitely soft and womanly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am afraid,” said he quickly, as if ashamed of the -breakdown of his own philosophy, “I am afraid you -have suffered, my girl.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I never complained while it lasted,” she answered. -“I shall not complain now that it is over.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He gathered the skirts of his gown more closely about -him and regarded her from under his shaggy eyebrows -with an expression of deadly earnestness in singular -contrast with his appearance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You spent long nights in tears, child, longing for -the sound of his step?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How do you know?” she answered, flashing at him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Your mother did,” he sighed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There fell a heavy pause, during which Belphegor sang -with the simmering phials a quaint duet as fine as a -gossamer thread.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Until the morning dawned, when I dreaded the sound -of that step,” said the widow at last.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon frowned more deeply. New wrinkles -gathered on his countenance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A worthless fellow! A wastrel, a gambler, a reprobate! -And you doing your wife’s part of screening and -mending, nursing and paying. Aye, aye, I know it all. -It was your mother’s fate.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And did my mother get cursed for her pains, and -struck?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The old man started as if the word had indeed been a -blow.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, no,” he cried sharply. “Ah, no, not that, never -that!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor came close and laid her hands on his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Bad enough, God knows,” he repeated, shaking his -head. “Heedless and selfish—but that, never!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She looked at him, long and tenderly. When she -spoke her tones and words were as full of deliberate comfort -as her touch.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>“Father,” she said, “compare yourself no more to -that man. Your mind and his—what his was—are as the -poles asunder. My mother’s life and mine, as Heaven -and Hell. I did my duty to the end: whilst he lived, I -lived by his side. He is dead—let him be forgotten! -Life, surely, is not all bitterness and ashes,” she added a -little wistfully. Then, with a return of brightness: “I -have come back to you. I don’t know what I should have -done if I had not had you. But here I am. This is -the opening hour of my new life!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The clock, in its dumb way, struck the hour of ten.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Surely, father,” said Ellinor suddenly, “one of your -little pots is rocking!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a spirt of aromatic steam, in the midst of -which white head and golden head bent together over -the furnace; and young eyes and old eyes, so strangely -alike, were fixed upon the boiling mysteries of the pharmacopic -experiment. An adroit question here, a steadying -touch there of those admirable hands and Master -Simon, forgetting all else, began to direct and once more -to explain—explain with an eager flow of words very -different indeed from his disjointed solitary talk.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Chemistry or alchemy—how were the whimsical old -student’s laboratory pursuits to be described? Chemist -he was undoubtedly, by exactness of knowledge; but -alchemist, too, by the visionary character of his scientific -enthusiasm, though he himself derided the suggestion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Powder of projection? Nonsense, nonsense!” he -would have cried. “Not in the scheme of our world. -Much use to mankind if gold became cheaper than lead!... -Elixir of Life? Again preposterous! Given -birth, death is Nature’s law.... But pain and -premature decay—ah, there opens quite another road!—that -is the physician’s province to conquer. And if one -seeks but well enough for the <i><span lang="la">panacea</span></i>, the <em>universal -anodyne</em>, the true <em>nepenthes</em>, eh, eh, who knows? Such -a thing is undoubtedly to be found. Doubtless! Have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>we not already partially lifted up the veil? <em>Opium</em> -(grandest of brain soothers!) and <em>Jesuit’s Bark</em> and the -<em>Ether</em> of Frobœnius, and Sir Humphry’s <em>laughing gas</em>! -Yet those are but partial victors; the All-Conqueror has -yet to be discovered.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Such a discovery Master Simon (who was first of all -a botanist) had settled in his mind was to be made in -the veins of some plant or other; and, therefore, with all -the ardour of the student of mature years racing against -Time, he now devoted all his energies to this special -branch of investigation. Hence, perhaps the forgotten -title of “simpler” was the most appropriate to this follower -of Boerhaave and Hales. In the absorbing delight -of his hobby he was given to experiment recklessly upon -himself as well as upon others, after the method of that -other fervent student of old, Conrad Gessner; and whatever -the result, noxious or beneficent, he generally found -in it confirmation of some theory.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If the juices of certain herbs can produce melancholia, -or the fury of madness, or idiocy, why should we not -find in others the soothing of oblivion, or the stimulus to -exalted thought, or the spur of genius? Why not,” he -would say, “But life’s so short, life’s so short....”</p> - -<p class='c013'>The door was opened noiselessly. Barnaby, the <i><span lang="la">famulus</span></i>, -clutching the tray, stood staring, open mouthed, in -upon them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hang that boy!” said Master Simon testily and, pretending -not to notice the interruption, proceeded with his -disquisition on the admirable things he meant to extract -from Camphire or Henne-weed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Is that all they give you for supper, father?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had walked up to the tray which had been deposited -on a corner of the table.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A jug of ale!” she exclaimed with disfavour. “Small-ale—and sour at that, I’ll be bound!” She poured a -few drops into the tumbler, sipped and grimaced. “Pah! -Bread—heavy and yesterday’s. Cheese! Last year’s, I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>should say—and simply because the mice wouldn’t have -any more of it!” Indignation rose within her as she -compared this treatment of her father with memories of -Bindon’s hospitality in bygone days. “And an apple!” -she added, with scathing precision.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Most wholesome,” suggested the simpler, deprecating -interference.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Wholesome!” she snorted. “Upon the theory of -the dangers of over-eating, I suppose! And what a -jug—what a tumbler!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Barnaby is rather clumsy,” apologised his master. -“Apt to break a good deal. So I, it was I, begged Mrs. -Nutmeg to provide us with stout ware.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What old Margery!—old Margery Nutmeg still -here!” A shadow fell upon Ellinor’s face—the next -moment it was gone. “Ugh! How I always hated that -woman! I had forgotten all about her. It is a way I -have: I forget the unpleasant! Well!” with a laugh, -“now I understand. But I’ll warrant her well-cushioned -frame is not supported upon the diet of wholesomeness -meted out to you! Heavens! but what is this dreadful -little mess in the brown bowl?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Belphegor’s supper,” answered his master with rebuking -gravity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They treat him no better than they do you, father!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She paused, took the edge of the tablecloth between -her taper finger and thumb and thrust out a disdainful -lip.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What a cloth! Not even quite clean!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Nutmeg has limited us. Barnaby has an unfortunate -propensity for upsetting things,” humbly interposed -the philosopher.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then Barnaby, whoever he is, ought to be soundly -trounced,” asserted Mrs. Marvel.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She wheeled round on the boy, who still stared at her -with round eyes—but her father laid an averting hand -upon her arm.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>“Hush,” he said, inconsequently lowering his voice, -“the poor lad is deaf and dumb.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Deaf and dumb, your servant?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Fresh amazement sprang to her face, succeeded by a -lightening tenderness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He suits me, child,” cried the old man, hurriedly. -“Pray do not attribute to me any foolish philanthropy, -I’m a——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She interrupted him with a gay note:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A mass of selfishness, of course—Who could doubt -it, who knew you an hour? Well, I am a mass of selfishness, -too. Oh, I am your own daughter, as you’ll discover -for yourself very soon! And such frugality as -Master Simon is made to practise will never suit Mistress -Ellinor. Can your appetite for these, these wholesome -things, bide half an hour, father?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Without awaiting the answer, she placed Belphegor’s -portion on the floor, handy to his convenience, then -whisked up the tray, bestowed a nod and a radiant smile -upon Barnaby (that made him her slave from henceforth) -and briskly left the room. Barnaby automatically -followed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon rubbed his bald head and tugged at his -beard. Belphegor was stamping on the hearth rug with -a monstrous hump and bristling tail, preparatory to addressing -himself to his supper.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So here we are, with a female about us after all, my -cat! But she seems an exceptionally reasonable person—quite -a remarkable woman.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His eye fell on the notes of his experiment, and a -crinkling smile spread upon his countenance. “There -is something about the touch of a woman’s hand,” he -murmured, and promptly became absorbed again.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“I have not been very long, have I?” said Ellinor, -when in due course she returned, followed by Barnaby -with a tray.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>The student lifted his hand warningly without withdrawing -his eyes from his array of figures.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Never fear,” said she, “your table shall be sacred.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She fetched a large round stool and motioned to Barnaby -to deposit his burden thereon. It was a tray of -mightily increased dimensions, graced with damask (a -little yellow, perhaps, from the long hoarding, but fine -and pure), laden with cut crystal, with purple and gold -china. The light of a pair of silver candlesticks gleamed -on the red of wine, on the flowery whiteness of bread, -on the engaging pink of wafer slices of ham and the -firm primrose roll of a proper housewife’s butter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Shall we not sup?” said Mistress Marvel.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She poured into the diamond-cut glass a liquor of exquisite -fragrance and colour, and placed it in her father’s -hand. And, as he raised it to his lips almost unconsciously, -a faint glow, like the spectre of the ruby in his -glass, crept upon the pallor of his cheek.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What is this?” he exclaimed, in interested tones, -holding out the beaker to the light.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not small-ale!” laughed she. “Not small beer whatever -it be! I have seen,” she added musingly, whilst her -father contemplated her with astonishment, “I have -seen strange things at Bindon since I arrived this evening, -and could scarce obtain admittance in the unlit courtyard, -(old watchman Willum recognised me, that was at least -something). At the front door, dark, cold, forbidding, -not one servant in attendance! I had to enter the house -like a thief, by the back ways. It seems like a house -under a spell! Ah, very different from the Bindon of -old! But I have seen nothing stranger than the servants’ -hall, whither Barnaby took me in silence—a good lad, -your Barnaby,” and she cast a friendly glance over her -shoulder at the still figure behind her. “I don’t know,” -she resumed, taking up the fork, “whether they treat -David as they treat you, his cousin, but they look well -after themselves!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>She laughed, but a colour of anger had mounted again -to her brow.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Margery is away, it seems; so old Giles tells me. He -was bringing up the wine for supper. Are you listening, -father? Wine for the servants’ supper! And lighting -these candlesticks! And if they consider cheese and ale -good enough for you, do not think they misunderstand -the meaning of good cheer. So we made the raid—and -here you have some of their fare. Drink sir!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER V<br> <span class='large'>QUENCHLESS STARS ELOQUENT</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>O, who shall tell what deep inspirèd things</div> - <div class='line'>Thou speakest me, when, tranquil as the skies,</div> - <div class='line'>O Night, I stand in shadow of thy wings,</div> - <div class='line'>And with thy robe of suns fulfil mine eyes!</div> - <div class='line in16'>—<span class='sc'>E. Sweetman</span> (<cite>The Star-Gazer</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>It is no unusual thing for a man whom human love -has betrayed and left bare; whose life some violent -human passion has robbed of all savour, to turn -for consolation to the things of heaven. This is what, in -course of time, had befallen Sir David Cheveral, when -his youthful dream of happiness had fled before a bitter -awakening. But the heaven to which he had turned was -not that “Realm beyond the Stars” pictured by the faith -of ages, but that actual region above and about our globe, -as mysterious a world, perhaps, and as little heeded by -the bulk of mankind; that immensity peopled by other -suns and earths, ruled by a harmony so vast and grandiose -that the thought of centuries is but beginning to grasp -it; that universe of space and time, as unfathomable to -our finite groping senses and as appealing to imagination -and reason both as any realm of eternity pictured by -the poets of any creed!</p> - -<p class='c012'>The worlds outside the earth, then, seemed for years -to have given to his desolate spirit, gradually and absorbingly, -all that the world of earth has in different -ways to give to man.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The dome of heaven was David Cheveral’s mistress. -To his phantasy, a mistress ever variable and ever loved; -whether chastely remote, ridden by the fine silver crescent, -emblem of virginity; or passionate, low-brooding, full-mooned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>and crimson, pregnant with autumn promise; or -yet high and cold, in winter magnificence, sparkling with -the jewels that are beyond dreams of splendour; or yet -again veiled and indifferent; or stormy, cloud-wracked -with the anger of the gods; condescending now with exquisite -intimacy, anon passing as irrevocably as Diana -from her shepherd. Who that had once loved such a -mistress could ever turn back to one of earth again? -So thought the star-dreamer of Bindon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And this esthetic passion was at the same time his art -and his life-work. It filled not only heart, but mind. -Endless was the lesson to be learned, opening the road -endlessly to others; untiring the labour to be expended; -his own the genius to divine, to grasp, to translate; and -his also every gratification, every reward! So thought -the star-dreamer. He had drifted into a life of study -and contemplation as solitary men drift into eccentricity; -and if in its all absorbing tendency there lurked madness -of a sort, there was a harmonious method in it; -and to him, at least (precious boon!), it spelt peace of -soul.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Every day’s work of such a study meant a fresh conquest -of the mind, noble and peaceful. Mighty conceptions -unfolded themselves to an ever-soaring intellect and -thrust back more and more the pigmy doings of this -small earth into their proper insignificance. Meanwhile -his sight was rejoiced with beauty ever renewed. The -music of the spheres played its great harmonies to his -fastidious ear; the rhythm of a universal poetry, too -exquisite to find expression in mere words, settled upon -a mind ever attuned to vastness, till the drab miseries -of humanity seemed well-nigh fallen away, and the petty -fret of everyday life, the chafing, the disillusion, the -smart of pride, the cry of the senses, were as forgotten -things.—His soul was filled with visions.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Now on this evening, while Master Simon in his laboratory -underground was being called by unexpected claims -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>from his own line of abstraction, something equally -startling had occurred to Sir David Cheveral in his observatory.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was pacing his airy platform on the top of the keep, -under an exquisite and pensive sky of most benign charity. -Never had he felt himself more uplifted to the empyrean, -more detached from a sordid world, than at the beginning -of this watch. Deep beyond deep spread the blue vasts -above him. As the lover knows the soul of his beloved, -so his vision, unaided, pierced into the heart of mysteries -that even through the telescope would be veiled to the -neophyte.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Upon her moonless brow this autumnal night wore a -coronal of stars that might have shamed her later glories. -The Heavenly Twins and Giant Orion beginning the -southward ascent in splendid company; Aldebaran, fiery-red -eye of the Bull; the tremulous pearly sheen of the -Pleiades; the grand, upright cross of Cygnus, planted -in the very stream of the Milky Way, and, slowly sinking -towards the West, the gracious circlet of the Northern -Crown—when had Night’s greater jewels shone with -more entrancing lustre upon the diaper of her endless -lesser gems!</p> - -<p class='c012'>David Cheveral turned from one field of beauty to another; -anon reckoning his treasures with a jealous eye, -anon letting the vast beauty mirror itself in his soul as -in a placid pool.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But rapture is ever tracked by fatigue: it seems to be -an envious, miserly law of our finite nature that every -spell of exaltation must be paid for by despondency. -Melancholy is but the weariness either of mind or of -body: often of both. The airs were variable and cold, -and food had not passed his lips for many hours; yet -he had no conscious hankering for the warm hearthstones -beneath him; no conscious desire for the touch of -a fellow hand or the sound of a human voice. But, by -slow degrees there crept upon him an unwonted and -profound sadness.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>A familiar catch-phrase of Master Simon’s:—“And -life’s so short! and life’s so short!”—had begun to haunt -his thoughts, to whisper in his ear, lulled though it was -by the voice of solitude. A sense of his own limitations -before this illimitable began to oppress him. So much -beauty and but one sense with which to possess it: but -weak mortal eyes and an imperfect vision, inferior even -to that of many an animal! To feel within oneself the -intellect, the power to conceive the creations of a God, -and to know that one’s ignorance was still as vast as the -field of knowledge offered ... the pity of it! With -every gracious night such as this to glean a little more of -the rich harvest—and life so short that, were one to live a -cycle beyond the allotted span, the truth garnered in the -end would be but as motes glinting here and there in -floods of light!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Such revolts give way to lassitude. The useless -“Why?” is inevitably succeeded by the “<i><span lang="it">Cui bono?</span></i>”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The astronomer who was too much of a poet—the -star-dreamer, as men called him—drew a deep sigh. He -had been tempted from his self-allotted task of calculation -as a lover may be tempted to dally in adoration of -his beloved. He now turned to go back to his table, -but as he did so was once more arrested in spite of -himself by the fascination of the great dome.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As it is the desire of man to possess what he finds -most beautiful, so is it the instinct of the poet, of the -painter, of the musician, to express and give again to -the world the captured ideal.—The pain of impotency -clutched at the dreamer’s heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But of a sudden he started; his sad eyes became alert -and fixed.—An event that happens but at rarest times -in the history of human observation had taken place under -his very gaze.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A new gem had been added to the splendours of the -heavens!</p> - -<p class='c012'>His languid pulses beat quicker. He passed his hand -across his brow; no, it was not the overworked student’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>hallucination! Did he not know every aspect of the -constellation, of the evening, of the hour? Sooner -might a woman miscount her jewels, a collector his treasures, -than he misread the face of his idol! It was no -fancy. There, above the Northern Crown, a new star—a -fire of surpassing radiance had flashed out of his sky -even at the moment of his looking.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He had seen it suddenly blossoming, as if it were into -his own garden, like a magic flower from some hidden -bud. An unknown light had pulsed into existence where -darkness hitherto had reigned.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A new star had been born! His soul caught up the -fire of its brilliance. It was as if his transient faithlessness -had been beautifully rebuked; his faintness of heart -driven forth by a glance of his beloved’s eyes. Nay, it -was as if, in some fashion, his mystic espousal had brought -forth life. To him had been given what is not given to -man once in a cycle—to receive the first flash of a world!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Inexpressibly stirred, filled with enthusiasm, he hurried -to his instruments and with eager hand turned the great -lenses upon the apparition.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Out of the chasm of those inconceivable spaces—from -the first contemplation of which, it is said, the neophyte -recoils with something like terror—broke, swirling, the -splendour of a star where certainly no star had ever been -seen before. <em>His star!</em> Breaking from the darkness, it -sailed across the field of his vision, radiant, sapphire, -gorgeously, exquisitely blue!</p> - -<p class='c013'>To every man who lives more in the spirit than in the -flesh there come moments when the <i><span lang="la">afflatus</span></i> of the gods -seems to descend upon him; moments of intuition, inspiration -or hallucination, when he sees things not revealed -to the ordinary mortal. What, in his sudden exalted -mood, David Cheveral saw that night was never -vouchsafed to him again. It was beyond anything he -could ever put into words; almost, in saner moments, he -shrank from putting it into thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>When at length he descended from his altitudes and -touched earth again, though still as in a trance, he entered -a record of the discovery on his chart. Every -student of the heavens knows that a new star is oftener -than not temporary and may fade away as mysteriously -as it has blazed forth. His next care, although it was -against his habits to invite the company of his fellow -creature, was instinctively to seek another witness to the -event.</p> - -<p class='c012'>However man may cut himself adrift from his kin, -the impulses of his nature remain ever the same in critical -moments. A joy is not complete until it is shared; a -triumph is savourless until it is acclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c013'>He was still dazed from the strain of watching, from -the gloom of the black tower stairs and of the long unlit -passages when he reached the basement rooms that were -Master Simon’s province at Bindon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Pushing open the heavy oaken door, he stood a moment -looking in.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was cheerful candle-gleam where he was wont -to find dimness; a gay sound of laughter and words -where silence used to reign; and instead of Master -Simon’s bent grey head, there rose before his sight, haloed -with light, so white and pure as almost to seem luminous -itself, a young forehead set in a radiance of crisp, fiery-gold -hair. His eyes encountered the beam of two unknown -eyes, exquisitely blue. Blue as his star!</p> - -<p class='c012'>And he thought he still saw visions; thought that his -star had as suddenly and sweetly taken living shape here -below as above in the unattainable skies.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VI<br> <span class='large'>EYES, BLUE AS HIS STAR</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——Dwelt on my heaven a face</div> - <div class='line'>Most starry-fair, but kindled from within</div> - <div class='line'>As ’twere with dawn!</div> - <div class='line in16'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>The Lover’s Tale</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>On the new-comer’s entrance Ellinor looked up. -The smile was arrested on her lips and her -eyes grew grave with wonder: there was something -curiously unsubstantial, something almost fantastic -in the man that stood thus, framed in the gaping darkness -of the doorway.</p> - -<p class='c012'>That pale head, refined to ætherealisation, with its -masses of dense, black hair; that straight figure, unusually -tall and seeming taller still by reason of its exceeding -leanness, romantically draped in the folds of a sable-lined -cloak; above all, those eyes, under penthouse brows, -singularly light and luminous in spite of their deep-setting, -gazing straight at her, through her and beyond -her—the eyes of the dreamer, or rather of the seer! In her -surprise she failed for the moment to connect with this -apparition the forgotten identity of the “cousin David” -she had known in her girl days; the smooth-cheeked lad—dandy, -fox-hunter, poet, politician—but in every phase, -image of assertive and satisfied youth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon broke the spell of the singular moment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, David,” quoth he, “dazed—moonstruck as usual? -Awake, good dreamer, awake! There have been fine -happenings here below while you were frittering God’s -good time, blinking at your stars!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He rose from his seat and shuffled round the table with -quite unusual alertness. A glass of the vintage served -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>to him by his daughter had brought a transient fire into -the sluggish veins. As he tapped David on the arm, the -latter turned his abstracted gaze upon him with a new -bewilderment: the bloodless simpler, with a pink glow -upon his cheek, with skull-cap rakishly askew on his -bald head, with a roguish gleam in his usually keenly-cold -eye—unwonted spectacle!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We’ve done great things to-night,” repeated the old -gentleman excitedly. “That experiment, David, successfully -carried through at last! It is exactly as I -surmised—you remember? The Geranium of the Hottentot, -Fabricius’ plant and our Ivy here—contain the same -principle! Ah, that was worth finding out, if you like!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His bony fingers beat a triumphant tattoo on David’s -motionless arm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What do you say to that?” insisted Master Simon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The astronomer was still silent. The light in his eyes -had faded; but they brightened again when he brought -them back upon Ellinor. This time, however, they were -less distant, less dreamily amazed, more humanly -curious.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And I have drunk wine,” pursued Master Simon. -An unctuous chuckle ran through his ancient pipe. -“Ichor from the veins of a noble plant, <em>Vitis Vinifera</em>, -David, compounded of dew and earth juices, sublimated -by sunshine.... Beautiful cryptic processes!” He -paused, closed his eyes over the inward vision, and then -added with solemn simplicity: “It is chemically richer, -that’s obvious, I may say it is altogether superior as a -cerebral stimulant to table-ale. That was her opinion.” -He jerked his thumb in the direction of Ellinor. “And -I endorse it.... I endorse it. She——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She?” interrupted Sir David. His voice was deep -and grave, and Ellinor then remembered vaguely that -even as a child she had liked the sound of it. A new -flood of old memories rushed back upon her; she rose to -her feet and came forward quickly, stretching out both -her hands:</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>“Cousin David, don’t you know me?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To be sure,” cried her father gaily, “I have been extremely -remiss. This is Ellinor, our little Ellinor. Shake -hands with Ellinor. She’s come to stay here. So she says.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He stopped upon the phrase and pulled at his beard, -flinging a quick, doubtful look at the master of the house. -“I told her we, neither of us, are good company for -women that—in fact, it is impossible for thinking men, -such as we are, to have a high opinion of her sex, but”—he -waved his arm with a magisterial gesture—“I have -already discovered, and you know my diagnoses are -habitually correct, that my daughter is an unusually -intelligent, sensible person, and that we might no doubt -both benefit by her company.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If cousin David will allow me to stay,” said Ellinor -gently.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was standing quite motionless in the same attitude, -her hands outstretched, bending a little forward, her face -slightly uplifted—for tall as she was she had to look -up to meet her cousin’s eyes. Repose was so essentially -one of her characteristics, that there was nothing suggestive -either of awkwardness or of affectation in this arrested -poise of impulsive gesture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The heavy cloak fell from David as he unfolded his -arms and, hardly conscious of what he was doing, slowly -took both her hands. Her fingers closed upon his in a -grasp that felt warm and firm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s right,” said Master Simon. “Why, you were -big brother and little sister in the old days. Kiss her -David.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The magic Burgundy was still working wonders; for -the moment this old fantastic being had gone back thirty -years in geniality, in humanity. “Kiss her, David,” he -repeated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The dark and pale face of Sir David, severe yet gentle, -bent over Ellinor.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Half-laughing, half-startled, yet with a feminine unwillingness -to be the one to attach importance to a cousinly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>greeting, she turned her cheek towards him. But the -kiss of the recluse, was—she never knew whether by design -or accident—laid slowly upon her half-opened, -smiling lips.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Had anyone told Ellinor Marvel who, during four -years had cried at love and during six years more had -railed at it, that her heart would ever be stirred in the -old, sweet mad way because of the touch of a man’s -lips, she would, in superb security, have scorned the -suggestion. Yet now, when she turned away, it was to -hide a crimsoning face and a quickening breath.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Nay, such a flutter, as of wild birds’ wings, was in -her breast, that she vaguely feared it could not escape -the notice even of Master Simon’s happy abstractedness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>When she again looked at his kinsman, she found that -he had been pressed into a chair beside hers; and that -her father, with guileless hospitality, was forcing upon -his host a glass of his own choice vintage.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But, as she looked, she thought she could note a flush, -kindred to her own, slowly fading from David’s forehead, -and, in the hand he extended passively for the glass, -ever so slight a trembling. The next moment she was -full of doubt: his reserve seemed complete, his presence -almost austere. And she blushed again, for her own -blushes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As if to a silent toast, Sir David drained the goblet; -then turning his eyes upon her:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are welcome, Ellinor,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The young widow started at the words, and her discomposure -increased. There occurred to her for the -first time a sense of the strange position in which she had -placed herself; of her impertinence in thus coolly announcing -her intention of taking up her residence at -Bindon, without even the formality of asking its owner’s -leave. But after listening a while to the disjointed conversation -that now had become engaged between her -father and David, the quaintness and sweetness of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>relationship between the two men—the unconscious manner -in which such whole-hearted hospitality was bestowed -and received without any sense of obligation on -one side, or of generosity on the other, struck her deeply, -and brought at once a smile to her lips and a mist to -her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To every law there are special exceptions,” remarked -Master Simon, sententiously. “David may be quite convinced -that I should not have entertained the idea of -permitting any ordinary young person of the opposite -sex to take up her abode under our studious roof. But -a few moments have convinced me, as I said before, that -Ellinor may be classed among the abnormal—the abnormal -which, as you know, David, can be typically -represented as well by the double-hearted rose as by the -double-headed calf.” He paused to enjoy the conceit, -then insisted: “Represented, I say, by the beautiful no -less than by the monstrous.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“By the beautiful indeed,” echoed the astronomer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor glanced at him quickly. But his gaze, though -fixed upon her eyes, was so abstracted, that she could not -take the words to herself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Altogether her cousin’s personality baffled her. He -had not been one minute beside her, before, in her -woman’s way, she had noted every detail of his appearance; -noted, approved, and wondered.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This recluse, indeed, seemed to bestow the most fastidious -care on his person. At a glance she had marked -the long, slender hands, white and shapely, the singularly -fine linen, the fit and texture of the sombre clothes of a -past mode that clung to his spare, but well-knit limbs. -The contrast between this choiceness, which would not -have misfitted a dandy of the Town, and his dreamer’s -countenance offered a problem which was undoubtedly -fascinating.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was also something of pride of blood in her approval -of his high-bred air; and, at the same time, a sufficient -consciousness of the remoteness of their kinship -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>to make the memory of his lips upon hers a troubling -one. Added to this, there was a baffling impression in -the atmosphere of apartness from the world which enwrapped -him. His eyes—what did they see as they -looked at her so long, so straight? Not the living Ellinor: -no man could so look on a woman, as man on woman, -without passion or effrontery! Not once had he smiled. -With all his courtesy—a courtesy that sat on him as becomingly -as his garments—hardly had he noticed her -ministration to plate or glass. The carelessness, also, -with which he accepted her arrival, without an inquiry -as to its cause, without the smallest show of interest in -her past and present circumstances, stirred her imagination, -whilst it vexed her vanity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I believe,” she thought, “he has even forgotten I -have ever been married. Nay I vow,” thought she, a -little amused, a good deal piqued, “it is a matter of -serene indifference to cousin David whether I be maid, -wife, or widow!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor, my girl,” said the old man, pushing his plate -from him, “this sort of thing is well enough for once -in a way, and more particularly as my work, thanks to -your timely assistance, is concluded for the night. But -I must not be tempted to such an abandonment to the -appetites another evening!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very well, father,” answered she demurely, while a -dimple crept out, as she surveyed his unfinished slice of -ham and the fragments of his bread.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“As to the wine,” pursued he, “it is another matter. -I will not deny that wine, producing this pleasant exhilaration -(were it not accompanied by the not disagreeable -langour which I now feel, and which is the result -of my own self-indulgence) might stimulate the brain to -greater lucidity than does the usual liquor provided by -Mrs. Nutmeg. It is quite possible,” he went on, leaning -back in his chair while the lamplight played on the -shrunken line of his figure, on the silver beard, and the -diaphanous countenance. “It is quite possible that even -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>as the plant requires sun-rays to produce its designed -colour, so the veins of man may require this distillation -of sun-heat and sun-light to liberate to the utmost his -potential forces. David, we may both be the better of -this drinkable sunshine!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>As he spoke, he meditatively sipped and gazed at the -glass which his daughter had unobtrusively refilled.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The astronomer had been crumbling the white bread -and eating and drinking much in the same frugal and half -unconscious manner as the simpler; it seemed as if spirits -so attuned to secluded paths of thought could scarce condescend -to notice the material needs.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But upon Master Simon’s last remark, Sir David put -down his beaker.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Drinkable sunshine!” he cried, the light of the enthusiast -leaped into his eye. He rose from the table as -he spoke. “Ah, cousin Simon, I have this night drunk -into my soul its fill of creating light.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pooh! With your cold stars,” scoffed the simpler, -once more eyeing the gorgeous colour of the wine against -the light.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The sun that raises from the soil and vivifies your -plants, that gives the soul to the wine you are drinking, -is one of the lesser stars,” said the astronomer gravely. -“The countless stars you deem so cold are suns—I have -to-night watched the birth of a new distant world of -fire.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” commented the other, calmly scientific. “A -phenomenon, like Ellinor here, rare, but possible.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I came down to tell you, to bring you back with -me to see it,” David continued, and Ellinor could detect -the exaltation of his thoughts in manner and voice. -“Come, master of the microscope and of the test-tube, -come and see the new star. Come and witness such a -wonder as those microscopes, those crucibles will never -show you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My good young friend,” exclaimed the aged student, -“while you, through your astrolabes, watch the revolving, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>the fading and growing of systems which you can neither -control nor make use of, I, through those second eyes and -those regulated fires, not only learn for the great benefit -of science at large, the workings of the atoms that absolutely -rule, nay, compose all life here below, but I can -direct and guide them in one direction, neutralise or -stimulate them in another, make them in short bring good -or evil to humanity. I delight my own brain, but I also -benefit the vast, suffering body of my kind.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The body, the body!” repeated the other, at once -sweetly and contemptuously but still with the fire in -his eye.</p> - -<p class='c012'>On his side Master Simon chuckled and rubbed his -hands over his irrefutable arguments.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then Sir David said again, almost as if he had not -before proffered the request:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come, cousin, I want you to look at my new star.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not I,” laughed Master Simon, tossing down the -last drop of his second glass with the quaintest air of -“abandonment,” wrapping his faded gown about him -and folding himself in it as in a mantle of luxurious -egotism. “Not I? Shall I spoil all these excellent impressions -and bring my poor old bones back to a sense -of age and infirmity by dragging them up your cold -stairs to the top of your tower, there to stand in your -draughty box and let all the winds of heaven find out my -weak points—for the pleasure of gaping at a speck of -light than which this lamp here is not less handsome, -while immeasurably more useful? No, Sir David!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor laid her hand upon her cousin’s arm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“May I come?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She spoke upon the true feminine impulse which cannot -bear to see the avoidable disappointment inflicted; -a feeling which men, and wisely, cultivate not at all in -their commerce with each other.</p> - -<p class='c012'>David, again back in spirit with the heavens, turned -upon her much the same look he had given her upon his -first entrance. Then, as he stood a second, to all outward -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>appearance impassive and detached, a curious feeling -as of the realisation of some beautiful dream took -possession of his senses. The fragrant breath of the distilled -and sublimated herbs, “yielding up their little souls, -good little souls!” in aromatic dissolution, filled his -nostrils as with an extraordinary meaning. The sound -of his kinswoman’s voice, the touch of her hand, the -subtle, out-of-door freshness of her presence in this warm -room—all these things struck chords that had long been -silent in his being. And the glance of her eyes! It was -as blue as his star!</p> - -<p class='c012'>He took her fingers with a certain grace of gesture, -born it might be of the forgotten minuets of his adolescent -days, and prepared to lead her forth. But at the -door he paused.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“As your father says, it is cold upon my tower.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>So speaking, he placed upon her shoulders his own -cloak of furs. And, as he drew the folds together under -her chin, their eyes met again. She looked very young -and very fair. For the first time that evening he smiled.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Big brother and little sister!” he said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now, for some reason which at the moment Ellinor -would stoutly have refused to define even to herself, -the words were in no way such as it pleased her to hear -from his lips. But the smile that lit up the darkness and -austerity of his countenance like a ray of light, and altered -its whole character into something indescribably gentle, -went straight to her heart and lingered there as a memory -sweet and rare.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon watched the door close upon them with -an expression at once humourous and philosophically disapproving. -Belphegor, sharpening his claws on the -hearthrug, glanced up at his master with a soundless -mew, as after all these distractions and disturbances the -well-known quiet muttering fell again upon the air.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I took her for the <i><span lang="la">rara avis</span></i>,” said the old man to -himself, “but, I fear me, what I thought at first was the -black swan may prove but a little grey goose after all! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>handmaid to that poor loony, with his circles and degrees -as to assist me—me! And after displaying such an intelligent -interest, too ...! Alas, my cat, ’tis -but a woman!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VII<br> <span class='large'>NEW ROADS UNFOLDING</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>The stars at midnight shall be dear</div> - <div class='line'>To her; and she shall lean her ear</div> - <div class='line'>In many a secret place ...</div> - <div class='line'>And beauty born of murmuring sound</div> - <div class='line'>Shall pass into her face.</div> - <div class='line in16'>—<span class='sc'>Wordsworth</span> (<cite>Lyrical Poems</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The first hour which Ellinor spent with David, uplifted -from the gloomy earth into the bosom -of the night—they were so unutterably alone, -amid the sleeping world with the great, watchful company -of the stars!—was one, she knew, that would alter -the whole course of her life; the pearly colour of which -would thenceforth tint her every emotion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Not indeed that one word, one touch, one look even -of his could lead her to believe she had made on the man -anything approaching the impression that she herself had -felt. On the contrary, the apartness which had been -noticeable even under the genial circumstances of the -meal shared together in the light and warmth of Master -Simon’s room became intensified when they entered the -solitude, the mystic atmosphere of his high, silent retreat.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And yet she knew that she would not by one hair’s -breadth have him different! In the whirlpool of the fast -existence into which, like a straw, her young life had -been tossed, there was not one man—even during that -early period when “pinks” and “bucks,” undeniable -gentlemen, were her husband’s faithful companions—but -would have regarded the situation as an opportunity that, -“as you live,” should be gallantly taken advantage of. -But he—through the long passages of the house, up the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>narrow, winding stairs of the tower, he conducted her, -for all his absent-mindedness, as a courtier might conduct -his queen! When they reached the platform of the -keep, upon the threshold of the observatory she tripped -up against some unnoticed step, and would have fallen -had he not caught her in his arms. For an instant her -bosom must have lain against his heart, the strands of -her hair against his lips; and she honoured him for the -simplicity with which he supported her and gave her his -hand to lead her in.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A strange apartment, the like of which she had never -dreamed, this chosen haunt of her strange kinsman! -Wrapt in the sables that encompassed her so warmly, -her eye wandered, from the dome with its triangular slit -through which a slice of sky looked ineffably remote, -to the fantastic instruments (or so they seemed to her) -just visible in the diffuse light, with gleams here and -there of brass or silver, or milky polish of ivory.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She watched him move about, now a shadow in the -shadow, now with a white flicker from the lamp upon -the pale beauty of his face. She listened in the deep -night’s silence, now to the inexorable dry beat of the -astronomer’s clock, now to the grave music of his voice, -as he spoke words which, for all her comprehension of -their meaning, might have been in an unknown tongue, -and yet delighted her ear.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There is the mural circle, and yonder my altazimuth. -But what I wanted to show you is to be best seen in -this, the equatorial.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Under his manipulation the machine moved with a magic -softness of action—the domed roof turning with roll -of wheels to let in upon them a new aspect of space. She -reclined, as he bade her, on a couch. He adjusted the -pointing of the mighty lens, and then she made her -initiating plunge into the wonders of the skies.</p> - -<p class='c012'>First there came as it were upon her the great, black -chasm before which the soul is seized with trembling, the -infinitude of which the mind refuses to grasp—then a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>point of light or two—little fingers it seemed pointing -to the gulphs—then more and more, a medley of brilliancy, -of colours, torch-red, flaming orange, diamond -white, sailing slowly across the black field; then, -dropping straight into her brain, like the fall of a glorious -gem into a pool, carrying its own light as it comes—the -blue glory of Sir David’s new-born star.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Ellinor told herself, with a mingling of regret and -pride, that since her soul had received the message of -his star she understood David’s vocation. And, however -much she might wish in the coming days to draw him -back to the homely things of earth, she could never be -of those now who mocked or pitied.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A little later they stood upon the open platform together, -and he pointed out to her the exact place of the -marvel that had just been revealed to her. Again he -spoke words of little meaning to her, yet fraught it -seemed in their strangeness with deeper significance than -those of a familiar language; but as she listened it was -upon his transfigured countenance that all her wonder -hung.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See you, there, by Alphecca. Nay, you are looking -at Vega of the Lyre-Vega the beautiful she is called: -no wonder she draws your eyes! But lower them, Ellinor, -and look a shade to the right. Turn to Corona, -the Northern Crown.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With the abstraction of the enthusiast, he was quite -unconscious that to her uninitiated ear the names could -convey no sense, that to her uninitiated eye the aspect -of the sky could show nothing abnormal.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See, there, just to the right of Alphecca—oh, you -see, surely, the most beautiful—my star, virgin to man, -to the sight of this earth until to-night!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Still as he looked upward, she looked at him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The wind was blustering. The breath of the northwest -had swept the heavens clear before bringing up its -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>own phalanx of cloud and rain. The complaint of the -great woods, far below their feet, rose about them; the -thousand small voices of moving leaf and branch swelling -like the murmur of a crowd into one pervading sound. -Ellinor felt as if these voices of the earth were claiming -her while the astronomer’s ears were deaf.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Whilst they had remained within the observatory she -had shared for a moment some of his own exaltation, -heard the mysteries speaking to him, felt as if each star -that struck her vision was in direct and personal communication -with herself. But, once in the open air, as -she leant over the parapet, this sense fell away from her. -The heavens were chillingly remote, and remote was the -spirit of their high priest and worshipper. Indeed he was -gradually becoming oblivious of her presence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>After a prolonged silence she slipped out of his cloak -and quietly placed it upon his own shoulders. He gathered -the folds around him, crossed his arms with the -gesture of the man who suffices to himself—all unconsciously, -without even turning his eyes from their far-off -contemplation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And so she stole away from him—and sought her -father once more. But finding him peacefully asleep in -his high armchair, by a well-heaped fire and with the -dumb <i><span lang="la">famulus</span></i> in attendance, she made her way through -the deserted, silent house towards her own quarters, a -little saddened in her heart, and yet happy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A home-coming strange indeed, but strangely sweet.</p> - -<p class='c013'>With the quiet authority that so far had obtained for -her all she wanted this evening, she had, on her arrival, -bidden the only servant she could find prepare the chambers -that had been hers in the old days. To these little -gable-rooms, high perched in that wing of the house that -connected it with the ancient keep, she now at last retired. -Candle in hand, she stood still a moment, holding the light -above her head, and dreamily surveyed the place that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>had known the joyous hopes of her childhood. There -was an odd feeling in her throat akin to a rising sob -of tenderness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then she walked slowly round. It was like stepping -back into the past; like awakening from a fever sleep -of pain and toil.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Home—the reality! The rest was gone—over—of no -more consequence than a nightmare! And yet, interwoven -with this quiet sense of comfort and shelter, was -an eager little thread of hope in the new, unknown life -opening before her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>From her windows she could look up to the faint light -of the observatory at the top of the black mass of the -tower; and below it, she knew, the sheer depth of wall -ran down into the dim spaces of the Herb-Garden. She -gazed forth at the heavens. Never before this hour had -she seen in its depths anything but the skies of night or -the skies of day; now they were peopled with marvels. -Never could they seem empty or commonplace again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She watched for a moment, musingly, the rounded -dome on the distant platform where to-night she had beheld -so much in so short a time; where even now he was, -no doubt still working at his lofty schemes. Then she -tried to peer down through the darkness into her favourite -haunt of old, the Herb-Garden—the garden of healing -and poisons, where she had so disastrously plighted her -young troth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Shivering a little, for she was wearied with the long -journey and the emotions of the day, and it was late, she -drew back, closed the casements and sat down by the fire. -The place was all strange, yet familiar. The little narrow, -carved oak bed, the billowing feather quilt covered with -Indian chintz by Miss Sophia’s own hands, nothing had -changed in this virginal room after so many years but -the occupant herself. There was the armchair with the -faded cushions, and there her own writing table with the -pigeon-holes; aye, and the secret drawer where her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>lover’s scrawling protestations had been deposited with -trembling fingers....</p> - -<p class='c012'>The hand that wrote them—it had since been raised to -strike her! And the precious missives themselves? All -that was dust and ashes now; dust and ashes its memory -to Ellinor. Yet it was not all a dream after all; and -yonder stood the little cabinet, lest she forgot! It had -a secret look, she thought, of slyness and mockery.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She pulled her seat nearer the hearth. A wood fire -was sinking into red embers between the iron dogs. -Leaning her elbows on her knees, she gazed at it, and -mused, until the red faded to grey and the grey blanched -into cold lifelessness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was not of the child, of the girl, of the unhappy -wife that she now thought, but of the new roads that -opened before the free woman—roads more alluring, -more fantastic in their promise than even the ways in -which her early fancy had loved to roam.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was a change indeed from the sordid grey and drab -atmosphere of her recent experiences, to be dwelling once -more in this ancient mansion, the majestic interest of -which she had before been too young to realise; to find -herself adopted, with a simplicity that savoured more of -the fairy tale than of these workaday times, accepted as -their future companion by those two unworldly beings, -the star-gazing lord of Bindon and his quaint guardian -of old, the distiller of simples.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Yet it was not the thought of her father’s odd figure -and his venerable head and his droll sallies that occupied -her mind with such absorbing interest as to make her -forget the hour, the cold, and her fatigue; in truth it was -the memory of the tall, fur-clad figure, of the white hand, -and the luminous eyes, and the single moment of that -smile. Again she felt upon her lips the touch that had -made her heart leap, and again at the mere thought -flushed and shook.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VIII<br> <span class='large'>WARM HEART, SUPERFLUOUS WISDOM</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Of simples in these groves that grow</div> - <div class='line in2'>He’ll learn the perfect skill;</div> - <div class='line'>The nature of each herb to know</div> - <div class='line in2'>Which cures and which can kill.</div> - <div class='line in36'>—<span class='sc'>Dryden.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>When the fame of her housekeeperly prowesses -had gained for comely Miss Sophia Rickart -the unexpected offer of parson Tutterville’s -hand and heart—the divine had taken this wise step after -many years of bachelorhood and varied, but always intolerable -slavery to “sluts, minxes, and hags”—like the -dauntless woman she was, she resolved to prove herself -worthy of the promotion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Although her horizon had hitherto been bounded by -duck-pond to the north and dairy to the south, still-room -to the east and linen-cupboard to the west, she argued -that one so admittedly passed mistress in the arts of -providing for her neighbour’s body need have little fear -about dealing with the comparatively simple requirements -of his soul! It was, therefore, after but a short -course of study that she claimed to have graduated from -the status of scholar to that of qualified expounder. Indeed, -she was as pungently and comfortably stuffed with -undigested texts and parables as her plumpest roast ducks -with sage and onions.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Before long she began to consider herself, entitled by -special grace of state, to interpret <i><span lang="la">in partibus</span></i> the will -of the Almighty to less privileged individuals; and, in -course of time, the enthusiastic spouse succeeded in taking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>the more trivial parish cares almost as completely off the -parson’s hands as those of his household. What if, her -flow of ideas being in excess of memory and understanding, -the language of the Bindon prophetess were on occasions -the cause of much secret amusement to the scholarly -gentleman—one sip of her exquisite coffee was sufficient -to re-establish the balance of things!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sophia’s texts will do the villagers quite as much -good as mine,” he used to say, philosophically, and allow -himself an extra spell with his Horace or his <cite>Spectator</cite>, -whilst his wife sallied forth upon the path of war and -mission.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With a large garden hat tied somewhat askew under -the most amenable of her chins, with exuberant ringlets -bobbing excitedly round her face, Madam Tutterville, as -old-fashioned Bindon invariably called the parson’s lady—burst -in upon Ellinor’s breakfast the morning after the -latter’s arrival.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was a day of alternate moods, now with loud wind -voice and storm-tears lamenting, like Shylock, the loss -of its treasures; now, like prodigal Jessica, tossing the -gold shekels into space, making mock in sunshine of age -and sorrow, recklessly hurrying on the inevitable ruin.</p> - -<p class='c012'>That Madam Tutterville had on her way been pelted -with rain and buffeted with wind, her curls testified. -But Ellinor, as she rose from behind her table by the -open window, had the glory of a fresh sunburst on her -hair and in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had left her bed early, full of brisk plans which -concerned the greater comfort of her father’s life and -were also to reach as far as her cousin’s tower. But -even as she fastened the crisp ’kerchief round a throat -that shamed the cambric with its living white, she had -been handed a note from Master Rickart himself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This was pencilled on a slip of paper, one half of -which had obviously been devoted to some fugitive calculations, -and which ran therefore in a curious strain:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span><span class='sc'>My Dear Girl</span>,—Do not Ash: salts (50) : (20.1722...)</div> - <div class='line'>attempt I beg of you, to disturb traces of sulphur but not</div> - <div class='line'>me this morning. I shall be gaugeable Calcium as before in</div> - <div class='line'>engaged on important work re- the ratio 7.171 5.32</div> - <div class='line'>quiring the undivided attention 7027.001</div> - <div class='line'>which solitude alone can secure. Mem. try in Val. foetida.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor read and was dashed, read again and laughed -aloud.—Gracious powers what a pair of eccentrics had -her relatives grown into!</p> - -<p class='c012'>But she was in high spirits, and hope rose in her heart. -She was free from her chains; she was back from her -exile, home in England, home in the dearest spot of that -dear island! Her first outlook upon the world had been -into the closes of the Garden of Herbs; and it had been -to her as if the familiar face of a friend had looked back -at her unchanged, yet full of promise. The beauty of -the freshly-washed woods (still in their autumn coats -of many colours: from russet to lemon-yellow, from the -vermilion of the turning ash-leaf to the grey-white of -the fir needle), she drew it all into her long-starved soul, -even as she breathed in the wild purity of the air.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Therefore, as she had sat down to breakfast alone in -the gay Chinese parlour where once Miss Sophia had -reigned, the refrain of the song in her heart was an -undismayed, nay, joyous: “Wait, my masters, wait!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And therefore, also, as Madam Tutterville walked on -to the scene of her past dominion she found a merry, -hungry niece; and she was scandalised, for she had come -armed with texts wherewith to console the widow.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Him whom he loveth, he blasteth’!” she cried enthusiastically -from the threshold, “‘aye, even to the third -and fourth generation’—my afflicted Ellinor...!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stopped, stared, her manner changed with comical -suddenness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mercy on us, child, I must have been misinformed!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Misinformed, dear aunt!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They told me your husband was dead!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor came forward, kissed the lady on either wholesome -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>cheek, divested her of her wet shawl and exclaimed -at its condition.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tush, child, that is nought. ‘The sun shineth on -the evil and the rain raineth on the just.’ Matthew, my -dear.”—Madam Tutterville was on sufficiently good terms -with her authorities to justify a pleasant familiarity. -“They told me,” she repeated, “your husband was dead. -I shall chide cook Rachael for unfounded gossip. What -saith Solomon: ‘The tongue of the wise woman is far -above rubies.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor laughed, then became grave.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oliver is dead,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dead!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector’s lady fell into a chair, tossed her hat-strings -over her shoulders, and fixed her light, prominent eyes -upon her niece.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Your weeds?” she gasped.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I do not intend to wear any mourning but this black -gown.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, aunt, not another word upon the subject!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>For yet another outraged, scandalised moment, the -spiritual autocrat of Bindon glared. But the very placidity -of Ellinor’s determination was more baffling than -any other attitude could have been to one who, after all -ruled more by opportunity than capacity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘All flesh is hay,’” she remarked at length, in plaintive -tones. “We shall speak further of this anon. Now -tell me what are your intentions for the future?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor’s eyes and dimples betrayed mischievous amusement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you not think, aunt,” she asked, “that Bindon -would be the better for some one who could look after -it? The place seems to be going to rack and ruin!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Alas, my niece, since to a higher sphere I was called -forth from this house, ‘the roaring lion who walketh -about has entered in with seven lions worse than himself.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>Ellinor crossed the floor and suddenly surprised her -aunt’s dignity by falling on her knees beside her and -hugging her. And, hiding her sunny head on the capacious -shoulder, she made vain efforts to conceal the -inextinguishable laughter that shook her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, aunt, why, dear aunt! Oh! Oh! Oh! What -has happened since we parted? You’ve grown so—so -learned, so eloquent!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Despite the strength of Madam Tutterville’s brain, her -heart was never proof against attack. The clinging, -young arms awoke memories and tender instincts. And -while the comments upon her new attainments called a -smile upon her countenance (which made it resemble that -of a huge, complacent baby) she responded to the embrace -with the utmost warmth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Eh, Ellinor, poor little girl!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, Aunt Sophia, it’s good to be home again!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Once more they hugged; then Ellinor sat back on her -heels and Madam Tutterville resumed, as best she could, -the mantle of the prophetess.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You see, my dear, it having pleased the Lord to call -me into a place or state of spiritual supererogation, it -hath become necessary for me to frame the tongue according -to its vocation.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor nodded, compressing her dimples.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My brother Simon and your cousin David—God -knows I have done my best for them! But it is casting -pearls before—you know the scriptural allusion, my dear—to -endeavour to raise them to any sense of duty. The -place is indeed going to wrack and ruin. They are no -better than Amalakites and Ephesians. Between David’s -star-worshipping on the one side, like the Muezzin on -his Marinet, and your father’s black arts and other incomprehensible -doings in his cave of Adullam, my heart -is nearly broken. And yet, my dear child, I have not -failed, as Paul enjoins, with the word in reason and out -of reason. I fear for you, child in this Topheepot!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do not fear for me,” cried Ellinor; her voice was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>caught up by little titters. “Perhaps,” she added insinuatingly, -“if you advise me things may alter for the -better.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Advice shall not fail you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I shall coax cousin David to let me manage for -him.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor was still sitting on her heels. She now looked -up innocently at Madam Tutterville. And Madam Tutterville -looked down at her with a suddenly appraising -eye and was struck by a brilliant inspiration over which, -in her determination to keep to herself, she buttoned up -her mouth with much mystery.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had grown—there could be no doubt of that—into -a remarkably handsome woman. There was so much -gold in her hair, there were so many twists and little -misty tendrils, that one could hardly find it in one’s heart -to regret that it should so closely verge on the red. It -grew in three peaks and wantoned upon a luminously -white forehead.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She has the Cheveral eyebrows,” thought the parson’s -wife, absently tracing her own with a plump, approving -finger.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Of the charm of the little straight nose, of the pointed -chin, of the curves of the wide, eager mouth, there could -be no two opinions. Nothing but admiration likewise -for the lines of throat and shoulder and all the rest of -the lithe figure on the eve of perfection. It was the -beauty of the rose the day before it ought to be gathered. -Madam Tutterville gave a small laugh, fraught with -secret meaning.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Amen, child,” said she irrelevantly at last. “Yes, I -will have some corporal refreshment; you may give me -a cup of tea. But you will have your hands full, I can -tell you, with that Nutmeg—Oh, what a house of squanderings -and malversations has Bindon become since my -days!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I saw something of the state of affairs last night,” -said Ellinor, as she lifted the kettle from the hob on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>to the fire to boil again and emptied the contents of the -squat teapot into the basin.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville watched her with approval.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Another girl would have given me cold slop,” she -commented internally. “That husband of hers must have -been a brute!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Lord, Lord! I never see brother Simon and cousin -David, but what I think of Jacob’s dream of the lean -kine devoured by the fat ones.” Madam Tutterville, -contentedly sipping her tea, had settled herself for a -comfortable gossip. “But, there, so long as David is -clothed in purple and fine linen (I speak fictitiously, -child, as regards colour, for I do not think, indeed, I -ever saw David in purple) the servants may rob him as -they please. A strange man—never sees a soul, and -yet clothes himself like a prince. That old sinner Giles -goes to London twice a year and brings back trunks full, -all in the fashion of ten years ago. He’ll never use a -napkin twice, Ellinor—he don’t care if he never eats -but a bit of bread or drinks but water, but it must be -from the most polished crystal, the finest porcelain.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor listened without manifesting either amusement -or impatience. When her aunt paused she herself remained -silent for a while; then, in a low voice, she -asked:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what then occurred to change his whole life -in this manner?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville’s eyes became rounder than ever. -She shook her head with an air of the deepest gravity -and importance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do not ask me, my dear—do not ask me, for I may -not reveal it,” she said. And the next instant the truth -leapt from her guileless lips: “There are only three -people here that know the whole secret, and they never -would tell me, no matter how I tried. David himself, -your father and my Horatio.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The lady’s countenance assumed a pensive cast, as she -reflected upon this want of conjugal confidence.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>“His marriage was to have been soon after ours,” -observed Ellinor musingly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aye, child, so it was. But the girl David loved and -that Lochore man—well, well, I can only surmise. But -in the end there was devil’s work, fighting and duelling! -David was brought home wounded, mad, and like to die; -and for days and nights, my dear, Simon and Horatio -nursed him between them and would not let any one near -him while his ravings lasted—not even me, think of that! -Of course, my love,” she added comfortably, “it is not -that my Horatio has not the highest opinion of my discretion; -but he had to humour David, and he would die -rather than break his word even to a——” She paused, -and significantly tapped her forehead. “Well, well, the -poor lad got better at last, and then——Oh, if it were -not true no one could have believed it! Maud, his sister -(I never could endure her, with her bold black eyes and -her proud ways), nothing would serve her but she must -marry the very man who all but murdered her own -brother! She became Lady Lochore—that was all she -cared for! Pride was always eating into her! ‘Proud -and haughty scorner is her name, and her proud heart -stirreth up strife.’—Proverbs, dear.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And David?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David, when he heard the news, fell into the fever -again; worse than ever. Many was the night Horatio -never came home at all, expecting each morning to be -the last! It was a terrible time, but, thank the Lord, -he got well, if well it can be called. And then this -kind of thing began. He withdrew himself completely, -no one was ever admitted. Bindon became a waste and -a desert. He cannot forgive, child, and he cannot forget—and -that is the long and the short of it! Horatio has -secured an honest bailiff for the estate, ’twas all he could -avail—but, inside, that rogue Margery Nutmeg reigns -supreme! And, upon my soul, if something’s not done, -brother Simon and cousin David will be both fit for bedlam -before the end of the chapter!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>Here the flow of Madam Tutterville’s eloquence was -suddenly checked. She sniffed, she snorted; there was -a rattle of buckram skirts as of the clank of armour resumed. -With finger sternly extended she pointed in the -direction of the window—all the gossip in her again -sunk in the apostle.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor’s eyes followed the direction of the finger.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The casement gave upon a green-hedged path that led -from one of the moat-bridges to the courtyards behind -the keep. By this path the villagers were admitted to -Bindon House.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The head of a lame man bobbed fantastically across Ellinor’s -line of vision. This apparition was succeeded immediately -by that of a fiery shock of hair over which -met, in upstanding donkey’s ears, the ends of a red handkerchief -folded round an almost equally red expanse -of swollen cheek. The silhouette of a girl holding her -apron to one eye next flitted past.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In the name of Heaven,” exclaimed Ellinor, “is the -whole of Bindon sick this morning? And what brings -them to the house?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The evil one is still busy among them,” quoth the -parson’s wife oracularly, “and I grieve to say it is your -father who is his minister!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was something so irresistibly comic in the angry -disorder noticeable on the face, heretofore so kindly -placid, of Madam Tutterville, that her niece was again -overcome by laughter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do not laugh!” said the lady severely; “‘The mirth -of fools is as the cackle of thorns’—Ecclesiastes—We -may all have to laugh one day at the wrong side of our -mouths. I live in fear of a great calamity. There have -been mistakes already!” she added, lowering her voice -to a mysterious whisper, “as Horatio and I know.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had grown grave again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Even doctors are not infallible,” said she reproachfully. -“Is poor father the minister of evil because he -may have made a mistake?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>“Ah, child, that’s just it! Brother Simon is not a -doctor, he is—I don’t know what he is. He tries his -herbs and plants upon the village folk. They flock to -him and swallow his drugs because he bribes them, my -love, by playing on their heathen superstitions about -spells and fairies and bogles and what not. They believe -themselves cured because they believe him to be in -league with the powers of darkness—a warlock, Ellinor! -Bred in the bone, alas! Horatio may joke about it, but -so long as I have life I will combat that back-sliding -influence. God knows, it is ill and hard work. I am as -the voice of one crying in the wilderness to the locusts -and wild honey, but I’ll not lift my finger from the -plough now!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She rose. “Come child,” she commanded; and followed -by Ellinor, led the way downstairs and through -long passages to a small dairy room, the window of -which gave upon the outer entrance to Master Simon’s -laboratory.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Here, with tragic gesture, she halted, and bade her -niece look forth.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER IX<br> <span class='large'>HEALING HERBS, WARNING TEXTS</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Here finds he on the oak rheum-purging Polypode;</div> - <div class='line'>And in some open place that to the sun doth lie</div> - <div class='line'>He Fumitory gets, and Eyebright for the eye;</div> - <div class='line'>The Yarrow wherewithal he stays the wound-made gore,</div> - <div class='line'>The healing Tutsan then, and Plantaine for a sore.</div> - <div class='line in30'>—<span class='sc'>Drayton</span> (<cite>Polyolbion</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The lagging sun of autumn had travelled but a -small part of its ascent, and the green inner -courtyard of what was known as “the keep -wing” of Bindon, so stilly enclosed by its three tall walls -and the towering screen of the keep itself, was yet in -shadow—not the cheerless, universal grey of a clouded -sky, but the friendly, coloured shadiness that is the sunshine’s -own doing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Against the grey stone walls the spreading branches -of the blush-rose trees that had yielded of yore so much -sweetness to Ellinor’s childish grasp, clung, yellowing -and now but thinly clad, yet not all dismantled, with here -and there a wan flower or a brave rosebud to bear witness, -like the gems of poor gentility, to past riches.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The scene, the special savour of wet grass, the fragrant -breath of the dairy were of old familiar to Ellinor; but -not so the bench placed upon the flags alongside the wall, -with its row of dismal figures; not so the businesslike-looking -table, whereat, behind a score of gallipots and -phials, a basin of water and a basket full of leaves, stood -Master Simon in his flowing gown. He was gravely investigating -through his spectacles the finger which a boy -whimperingly upheld for his inspection. The while, -Barnaby, uncouthly busy, flitted to and fro between his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>master’s chair and the steps that led down to the laboratory.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor leant out of the window to gaze in surprise. -Here, then, was the work which her father could only -pursue in solitude! She now understood the nature of -this branch of his studies: the student was testing upon -the <i><span lang="la">corpus vile</span></i> of the willing population the virtues of his -simples! “Fortunately,” thought Ellinor, “such remedies -can proverbially do but little harm and often do much -good.” And she watched his doings with amused -interest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Madam Tutterville could not look upon them in -the same tolerant spirit. When she had numbered the -congregation, she stood a moment with empurpled cheeks -and rounded lips, inhaling a mighty breath of reprobation, -preparatory to launching forth the “word in reason and -out of reason” as soon as she saw her chance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now, Thomas Lane,” said the unconscious Master -Simon impressively, as he wrapped round the finger a -rag smeared with green ointment, “if you do as I bid -you the fairies won’t pinch your poor thumb any more; -let me see it next Tuesday. Who is next?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The buxom damsel, whom Ellinor had noted and who -still held the corner of her apron to her eye, advanced -and curtseyed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Deborah!” cried Madam Tutterville, recognising -with horror one of her model village maids.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon shot a swift glance upwards from under -his bushy brows; too well did he recognise the tones of -his sister’s voice. Ellinor had not deemed him capable -of looking so angry; and, unwilling to be associated with -any hostile interference, she moved away quietly from -her aunt’s side, left the room and proceeded to the courtyard -itself. She was drawn thither also by another -reason. There is the woman who shrinks from the sight -of sores and wounds; and there is the woman whose sensitiveness -takes the form of longing to lave and bind. -She was of the latter.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>When she reached the table the action had briskly -begun between Madam Tutterville and her brother. The -artillery on the lady’s side was characterised rather by -rapidity of delivery than by accuracy of aim. The old -man’s replies were few and short, but every shot -told.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Deborah, distracted between awe of the wizard’s cunning -and deference to a reproving yet liberal mistress, -stood whimpering between the two fires of words, her -apron making excursions from the sick to the sound eye. -Some of the patients grinned, others looked alarmed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Are ye not afraid of the Judgment?” Madam Tutterville -was saying, ever more fancifully biblical as her -wrath rose higher. “So it’s your eye that’s sore, Deborah! -I’m not surprised. Remember how Elijah the -sorcerer was struck blind by Peter!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Deborah wailed:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, ma’am, it wasn’t Peter, it was the cat’s tail!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The cat’s tail, Deborah! There is no truth in thy -bones!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tut, tut!” here interposed Master Simon. “Who -bid you go to the cat’s tail?—Sophia, life is short. You -are wasting an hour of valuable existence. Go away!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“’Tis the punishment of the deceitful man,” intoned -Madam Tutterville from her window as from a pulpit, -and emphatically pounded the sill. “‘By their figs ye -shall know them!’ This cat’s tail work is the fruit of -the tree of your black art, Simon Rickart, of your unholy -necrology!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The simpler’s voice cut in like a knife:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Who bid you rub your sore eye with a cat’s tail?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, sir, please, ma’am, Peter hadn’t anything to -say to it, indeed he hadn’t. But, please, ma’am, it was -parson’s brindled cat, and Mrs. Rachael—that’s the cook -at Madam’s, sir—she do tell me nothing be better for -a sore eye than the wiping of it with a brindled cat’s tail. -And please, ma’am, I held him while she did rub my -sore eye.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>“Mrs. Rachael!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>This was none less than Sophia’s own estimable cook, -who read her Bible as earnestly as Madam herself, and -was the stoutest church woman (and the best cook) in -the country; the model, in fact, of Madam Tutterville’s -making.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon was deftly laving the inflamed eye. And -into the silence allowed for this startling minute by his -sister’s discomfiture he dropped a few sarcastic words:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are fond of texts, Sophia.—Here is one for -you: ‘First cast the beam out of thine own eye.’ You -have an admirable way of applying them, pray apply -this: ‘Cast the sorcery out of thine own kitchen.’ Cats’ -tails, indeed! Now, remember, child! (has anyone got a -soft handkerchief) I am the only proper authorised magician -in this county. If you want magic, come to me -and leave Mrs. Rachael and her brindled receipts severely -alone. You understand what I mean; I am Bindon’s -sorcerer as much as parson is Bindon’s parson.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Here he seized the silk handkerchief which Ellinor -silently offered and began to fold it neatly on the table. -Next, from his basket he selected certain bright-green -leaves of smooth and cool texture. One of these he -clapped over the flaming orb, and tied the silk handkerchief -neatly across it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And with that upon your eye, my dear, you may -defy,” he remarked, maliciously, “even the witch and -her cat.—Let me see it next Friday.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The poor lady at the window was by no means willing -to admit defeat; but, nonplussed for the moment, she -babbled more incoherently than usual in the endeavour -to return the attack.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The Devil can quote scripts from texture!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But give him his due, Sophia, give him his due: he -can quote at least with accuracy! Ha, ha!—Now, Amos -Mossmason, come forward! I thought you’d come to me -at last! I have ready for thee a brew of the most superlative -quality! You’re pretty bad, I see, but we shall -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>have you dancing at the harvest-home. Here are seven -little packets, one for every day in the week in a cup of -water. The little plant, Amos, from which I have extracted -this precious stuff, was known to Hippocrates as -Chara Saxifraga (think of that!), and those wise and -learned men, the Monks of Sermano—”</p> - -<p class='c012'>At this Madam Tutterville again lifted up her voice, -and with such piercing insistence that it became impossible -to ignore her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now, indeed, has Satan revealed himself! Amos -Mossmason, beware! Have nought to do with these -Popish spells—it is thus the Scarlet Woman disseminates -poison!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>At the word poison the patient hurriedly dropped the -packets back on the table, and stared in dismay from -the lady of the church to the gentleman of science.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor, keeping well in the shadow of the window-ledge, -out of the range of her aunt’s vision, was startled -in the midst of her amusement by an unexpected thunder -in her father’s voice:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sophia,” he commanded, “go back to your home, -open your Bible and seek among the Proverbs for the -following text, to wit: ‘The legs of the lame are not -equal, so is a parable in the mouth of fools.’ ... -Thereupon meditate! You are a good creature, but weak -in the brain, and you do not know your place among -the people. Go!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville gave a small cry like that of a -clucking hen suddenly seized by the throat. She staggered -from the window and retired. To confound her by a -text was indeed to seethe the kid in its mother’s milk.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Amos,” said Master Simon, “don’t you be a fool -too; take your powders and begone likewise, and let -me hear of you next week. Now who will hold the -bandage while I dress Ebenezer Tozer’s sore ear?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will,” said Ellinor.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So you are there?” said the father, without astonishment. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>“Why, you seem always to be at hand when -wanted!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And Ellinor smiled, well content.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Madam Tutterville sat on a stool in the dairy, fanning -herself with her kerchief. She was in a sort of mental -swoon, unable as yet to realise the fact that she and the -church had been worsted before their own flock.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Presently, with deliberate step, emphasised by a -rhythmic jingle of keys, the housekeeper of Bindon appeared -in the doorway and looked in upon her in affected -astonishment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Margery Nutmeg had a meek and suave countenance -under a spotless high-cap unimpeachably goffered -and tied under her chin. Her cheeks looked surprisingly -fresh and smooth for her sixty-five years; her hair, -banded across her placid forehead, was surprisingly black. -Her eye moved slowly. She was neither tall nor short, -neither fat nor thin. Her hands were folded at her waist. -Anything more decent, more respectful, more completely -attuned to her proper position, it would be impossible -to imagine. Yet before this redoubtable woman, Bindon -House and village shook; and in spite of valiant denunciations -at a distance Madam Tutterville herself was -rather disposed to conciliate than to rebuke her when -they met.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was indeed no one at the present moment whom -she so little desired as witness to her discomposure. -Quite deserted by her usual volubility, she had no word -by which to retrieve the situation. It was almost an -imploring eye that she rolled over the fluttering kerchief. -She knew Margery Nutmeg.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ain’t you well, ma’am?” asked that dame, with -dulcet tones of sympathy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville tried to smile, gave it up, panted -and shook her head.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Don’t you, ma’am,” implored Margery, after a moment’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>unrelenting gaze, “don’t you, now, so agitate -yourself. It’s not good for you, Miss Sophia, I beg -pardon, I mean ma’am. It’s not indeed! And you so -stout and short-necked! Eh, we’re all sorry for you: the -way you’ve been treated, and before the villagers too! -But, there, Master Rickart is a very learned gentleman! -You ought to be more careful of yourself, ma’am, knowing -what a loss you’d be to us all! It do go to my -heart to hear your breath going that hard! Let me get -you a glass of buttermilk—’tis a grand thing for thinning -the blood.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville pushed away the officious hand and -moved past the steady figure with an indignant ejaculation:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Margery, you’re an impudent woman!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had not even the relief of a text upon her tongue. -Her florid cheek had grown pale as she tottered out again -through the now empty courtyard. Yes, it was a painfully -broad shadow that went by her side. She longed -for the comfort of her Horatio’s philosophic presence; -for the respectful atmosphere of her own well-ordered -household. But she dared not hurry: for there was no -doubt of it, her breathing was short.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER X<br> <span class='large'>COMPACT AND ACCEPTANCE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——Upon nearer view,</div> - <div class='line'>A spirit, yet a woman too!</div> - <div class='line'>And steps of virgin liberty—</div> - <div class='line'>Her household motions light and free</div> - <div class='line'>A countenance in which did meet</div> - <div class='line'>Sweet records, and promises as sweet.</div> - <div class='line in16'>—<span class='sc'>Wordsworth</span> (<cite>Lyrical Poems</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>“Dear, dear,” said Master Simon, “what can -have become of my ‘Woodville’?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor looked up from the little packet of -powdered herbs that for the last hour, in the stillness of -the laboratory, she had been weighing and dividing.—Great -had been her delight to find her help accepted without -fresh demur, for she was bent on making herself indispensable.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My ‘Woodville,’ child!” repeated Master Simon. -“Ah, true, true, it has been taken back to the library. -David is a good lad, but I could wish him less absolutely -particular about his books. Books are made for use, not -to show a pretty binding on a shelf! But stars and books—’tis -all he cares for!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor rose and slipped from the room. Well, she -remembered the old “Woodville,” in its grey-tooled -vellum with the thick bands and clasps. She knew its -very resting-place, between “Master Parkinson,” in black -gilt calf, and “Gerard’s Herbal,” in oaken boards.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Once outside she stretched her limbs after the cramping -work and began humming the refrain of a little song -that came back to her, she knew not how or why, as she -plunged into the loneliness of the rambling corridors:</p> -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>’Twas you, sir, ’twas you, sir!</div> - <div class='line'>I tell you nothing new, sir—</div> - <div class='line'>’Twas you kissed the pretty girl!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>At a bend of the passage she stopped: she thought she -heard a stealthy footfall behind, and her heart beat faster -for the moment with a sense of long-forgotten child-terrors. -Then the woman reasserted herself. Yet, as -she took up the burden of her catch again and walked on -steadily, Mrs. Marvel tossed her head in just the same -defiant manner as had been the wont of the child Ellinor, -who would have died rather than own to fear.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Dim was the library, but with a warm and golden -dimness that was as far removed from gloom as the -warm twilight of a golden day.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The scent of the burning wood upon the hearth mingled -with the spice of the old leather—Persian, Russian, Morocco, -Calf—with the pungency of the old parchment -and of the old print upon ancient paper. The air was -filled as with the breath of ages.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There is not one of our senses which so masterfully -controls the well-springs of memory as that rather contemned -and (in this our western hemisphere) uncultivated -sense of smell. With a rush as of leaping waters, the -founts of the past now fully opened upon Ellinor—bitter -and sweet together, as the waters of memory always are. -Here had she taken refuge many a time, in the days when -nothing stirred in the library but the fire licking the logs, -and (as she loved to fancy) the kind, honest spirits of -the dead.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Every imaginative child has its bugbear, self-created, -or imposed on its helplessness by the coward cruelty of -some older person. Her childish dreams had been -haunted by that perfectly respectable-looking and urbane -bogey, Margery Nutmeg. Under the housekeeper’s sleek -exterior she had instinctively felt an extraordinary power -of malice, and had always recoiled from her most coaxing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>approach with a repulsion that nothing could conquer. -Just now, as she came along the passage, she had vaguely -thought, just as in the old days, that Margery might be -secretly following her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She laughed at herself as she closed the door; but the -sound of the catching lock struck comfort in her heart, -and so did the enclosed feeling of sanctuary, of protection.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, dear old room!” she said aloud. “Dear old -books, dear friendly hearth! God grant this may indeed -be home at last!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She looked round, from the oriel window, purple-hung -with its deep recess; from its shelves, seat, and screen, -set apart like the side chapel of a cathedral for private -devotion, to the high-carved ceiling where, in faded -colours, the coat-of-arms of past Cheverals displayed -honours that could never fade. She kissed her hand to -the full length Reynolds of that Sir Everard Cheveral, -whose daughter had been her own mother, empanelled -above the stone mantelpiece. It was sweet to feel one -of such a house.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Again she spoke, half to herself, half to the mellow, -genial presentment of her ancestor:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You would have said that no daughter of Bindon -should seek refuge elsewhere but in the house of her -fathers.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, ma’am,” said a low voice at her elbow.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor started. A woman whom life had taught to -keep her nerves under control, it is doubtful whether -anything but the old terrors of her childhood would have -had the power to send the blood thus back to her heart. -Mrs. Nutmeg was at her elbow—Mrs. Nutmeg hardly -changed, with the same obsequious smile and deadly eye, -dropping another curtsey of greeting as their glances met, -and speaking in the familiar, purring manner:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Marvel, ma’am, begging you’ll forgive the -liberty in offering you my respectful welcome! I made -so bold as to follow you and trust you will excuse the -intrusion.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>“How do you do?” said Ellinor.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This, of all possible greetings, was the one she least desired. -She hated herself for her weakness; but as she -held out her hand, she shrank inwardly from the remembered -touch.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How do you do, ma’am?” responded the other, with -perfunctory humility. “I trust I see you well.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you,” said Mrs. Marvel over her shoulder, -more shortly than her wont, and turned to the shelf to -look for her father’s book.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the obnoxious presence was not so easily dismissed. -It followed her to the shelves; it stood behind her; it -breathed in her ear. After a minute of irritated endurance, -during which her mind absolutely refused to work, -Ellinor whisked round impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Asking your pardon, ma’am. But, as you are aware, -I was unable to attend to you last night, having only -returned this morning from Devizes. I must beg your -forgiveness for anything you might have to complain of, -not having been made aware that you were coming.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, everything was quite comfortable,” began Ellinor. -Then suddenly remembering her raid over-night, -she hesitated and fell silent.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, ma’am,” pursued the housekeeper, who, among -other uncanny characteristics, possessed that of answering -thoughts rather than words. “Yes, I was sorry indeed -to hear that you had to get things for yourself. I -am sure if Sir David knew, it would go near to make -Mr. Giles lose his place, that a guest should be treated -so—him that has the cellar key on trust, so to speak.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I shall explain to your master,” said Ellinor, after a -perceptible pause.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you, ma’am. Mr. Giles and me would be -obliged. No doubt my master will give me instructions. -But I should be grateful—having to provide, and gentlemen -liking different fare. (I ought to know their tastes -by this time, ma’am.) But ladies being otherwise, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>not proposing to lay before you what satisfies us humble -servants—I should be grateful to you, ma’am, to let me -know how many days your visit at the House is likely -to be.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Again there was silence. Ellinor stood looking down, -struggling against the feeling of helplessness that seemed -to be closing in upon her. Once more the undignified -side of her position reasserted itself. But she fought -against the thought. Why, between high-minded people -of the same blood should this sordid question of give and -take come to awaken false pride? Nay, could she not -actually serve David by her presence? The hand and -eye of a mistress were sorely needed here. Truly, she -had heard enough from Madam Tutterville, seen enough -herself on the previous night, to realise that Bindon House -had become but as a vast cheese in the heart of which the -rats preyed unrebuked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I cannot tell you yet,” said she steadily, though the -ripe colour still mounted in her cheeks.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery blinked softly like a cat, and, like a cat with -claws folded in, she stood. Her voice had a comfortably -shocked note as she replied:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you, ma’am.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That will do,” cried Ellinor.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, ma’am, thank you. No doubt. But until my -master gives me my instructions——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stopped; in the listening silence of the room a -slight noise had caught her ear. She looked slowly round -and Ellinor followed the direction of her eye. From -the window recess Sir David himself had emerged, pen -in hand, and now came towards them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Nutmeg passed the corner of her apron over her -lips and dropped her curtsey. Ellinor stood, her head -thrown back like a young deer, watching her cousin’s advance -with a look of confidence, though beneath her -folded kerchief her heart beat quick.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He took her hand, bent, and kissed it. Then retaining -it in his, turned upon the housekeeper. Ellinor, with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>the clasp of his fingers going straight to her heart, was -unable to shift her gaze from his face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You wish for instructions, Margery,” said he, “take -them now. You shall obey this lady as you would myself. -While she remains here you shall treat her as my -honoured guest. Long may it be! And further, if she -so pleases, Mr. Rickart’s daughter shall be looked upon -as mistress at Bindon. And what she does or orders to -be done shall be well done for me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery dipped humble acquiescence to each command.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had not thought those dreamy eyes of David’s -could give so cold and yet angry a flash. His brows were -hardly knitted, and his voice, though raised to extra -clearness, was singularly under control; yet she had a -sudden revelation, not only of present anger in the man, -but of an extraordinary capacity for strong emotion. -And she thought that if ever an evil fate should bring -her beneath his wrath, it would be more than she could -bear.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Go, now,” said Sir David, still addressing his servant, -“but remember, and let the household remember, that -though I prefer to watch the stars rather than your -doings, I am not really blind to what goes on.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am truly glad, sir, to be authorised to give the -servants any message from you,” said Mrs. Nutmeg.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She reached the door, paused and threw one of her -expressionless glances for no longer than a second or -two towards Ellinor; raising her eyes, however, no higher -than the knees. Then the door closed softly upon the -retreating figure.</p> - -<p class='c012'>David’s slightly slackened grasp was tightened for a -moment round his cousin’s fingers, then it relinquished -them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Forgive me, Ellinor,” said he, “a bad master makes -a bad host.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David,” said she, looking him bravely in the eyes, -“I have hardly a guinea in the world.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>“Oh,” he cried quickly, “you humiliate me——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She interrupted him in her turn, and as quickly:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, no, indeed do not think that because of what -she said I should seek such protestation from you. But -David, though I came here because it was the only refuge -open to me, I could not stay unless I had a task to do. -I saw last night—before I had been in dear old Bindon -an hour—that sadly you want one honest servant here. -Let me be that servant to your house; let me be at least -now what Aunt Sophia was. I can do the work.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had flushed and paled as she spoke, but gained -confidence towards the end; and she looked what she -felt herself to be, a strong, capable woman.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His eye dwelt upon her, not as last night in exaltation -that amounted to hallucination, but as one whose -deep and restless sadness finds an unsought peace.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Will you, indeed?” he said at last. “Will you indeed -take under your gracious care my poor, neglected -house?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Their eyes met again. It was a silent compact. After -a little pause:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you not think I am very brave to be ready to face -Margery?” she asked, with a mischievous dimple.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At this his rare smile flashed out—that smile before -which she felt, as she had already over-night, that, in -her heart, she abdicated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, I know Margery well,” he said, “but her husband -was my father’s faithful man, and to keep her was -a promise to his dying ears. She knows it and trades on -it. I am not—do not believe it,” he added, “quite the -lunatic cousin Simon would make me out. At least, I -have my lucid moments. This is one. I have profited -by it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So have I,” said Ellinor with a lovely smile of gratitude -that robbed the words of any flippancy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>They turned together, tall woman behind tall man, -the crest of her copper curls on a level with his eyes. -Thus they traversed together the great length of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>room. Once she paused, mechanically to draw a bunch -of dead roses from a dried-up vase—roses placed there, -God knows how many summers ago! He marked the -action by a glance. Almost unconsciously she lifted the -powdering flowers to her lips, inhaling their faint, ghostly -fragrance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As they passed the window recess where, unknown to -the new-comers, he had been sitting at his work, he -stopped in his turn to lay a paper-weight on the loose -sheets that were scattered on the table. A great map, -from Hevelius’s Atlas of the Stars, lay outspread, and -displayed its phantom-like constellation figures. Ellinor -bent down to look.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See,” said he gravely, placing his finger on the regal -crown that the genial old astronomer had lovingly designed -for <em>Corona Borealis</em>—“see, it is there that the -new star has come into being; a fresh gem to the Crown -of the North, fairer even, with its sapphire glance, than -Margarita the pearl——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She looked up, inquiringly:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Your star?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My star,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her words pleased him, and he marked the earnest -brilliancy of her blue eyes. His answering look, though -unconsciously, was tender as a caress; and she felt it -most sweetly. The crumbling rose-leaves scattered themselves -in powder upon his papers. She brushed them impatiently -away with a superstitious feeling that the past -was already too much with her, too much with him. -And as she leaned over the table, the live, real, blushing -rose that she had gathered in the courtyard that morning -loosened itself from her bosom and fell softly on the -outmost sheet of the manuscript notes. Here David’s -hand had sketched boldly the wreath-like constellation -that had borne him an unexpected blossom.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor saw her flower lie upon it with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Could Hevelius have seen his crown so enriched—but -it is given to few to chronicle a name in the Heavens! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>A star may appear and then wane, but not this one, not -this one!” He spoke half to himself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“When was the last great star born?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Before this old Hevelius’ day,” said David. He -drew another map from under the tossed book and flung -it open for her, never heeding that it rested on the petals -of her rose. “But see here, 1660—on a day of rejoicing -for England—the King had returned to his own—what -seemed to many to be a new star appeared, brightly -burning. Flamsteed named it, out of the joy of the -people, <i><span lang="la">Cor Caroli</span></i>—the Heart of Charles.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The heart of Charles,” she repeated. “It is pretty. -What will you call yours?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I dare not name it yet,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dare not?” she echoed astonished.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Lest it should belie me—fade and leave me the -poorer,” he answered.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There came a silence. The clock punctuated the fitful -rushing sound of the wind round the house, ticked off -a minute of life for Ellinor as full of thought and as -pregnant of possibility, as sweet and as rich in promise -as any she had ever passed in her already eventful life.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had the impression of some extraordinary happiness -that might be hers; that yet was so elusive, so high, -so shy a thing, that it would melt away in the grasp of -human hands. She had, too, a little unreasonable foreboding, -because her rose lay crushed under his astronomy. -With a sigh at last, chiding herself for folly and dreams -unworthy of her new life—she who had offered herself, -and been accepted as his servant, no more—she moved -away from the table.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The action roused him. He went with her. On the -way to the door he made another halt, and indicated by a -slight gesture the urbane countenance of that common -ancestor whom Ellinor had addressed and who now, -lighted up by a capricious ray, seemed to look down -upon them with a living eye of favour. She stood confused -as she remembered how boldly, as if by right of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>kinship, she had claimed aloud in that silent room the -hospitality of Bindon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I only represent him here,” said he, divining her -thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, cousin David,” said she, “say what you will, my -father and I will always be deeply in your debt.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He turned and looked at her gravely.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Surely,” he answered, after a pause, “a man’s inheritance -is not solely his own. It is but a trust. It -is to be used and passed on. Those that come after -me,” added he musingly, “will not be the poorer, but the -richer for my unwonted mode of life. Yet, meanwhile, -Ellinor, you can help me to put to better purpose the -wealth yearly expended in this house. For there are -abuses in a household which only a woman’s hand can -reach.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They shall be reached then,” said she.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XI<br> <span class='large'>LAYING THE GHOSTS</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>Her eyes</div> - <div class='line'>Had such a star of morning in their blue</div> - <div class='line'>That all neglected places ...</div> - <div class='line'>Broke into music.</div> - <div class='line in20'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Aylmer’s Field</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Out of the warm library into the deserted, echoing -round-vaulted hall, on the walls of which broad -sheets of tapestry hung, dimly splendid, between -fluted pilasters of marble. It seemed to Ellinor, -when the swing door had fallen behind her with its -soft thud, as if they had left the nave of some church; -left a home-like refuge filled with living presences, benign -spirits and warm incense; to enter the coldness of -a crypt that spoke but of the tomb.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She shivered, and the gay smile faded on her lips. -Their footsteps fell forlorn upon the stone floor. David -now seemed to drift apart from her, to move unsubstantial -in these forsaken haunts of grandeur. But it -was her nature to re-act against such impressions. Her -alert eye noted the moth in the tapestry, the rust on the -armour, the dust lying thick on the white marble heads -and limbs of statues that kept spectre company in the -semi-darkness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” she cried suddenly, “what red fires we shall -have on these cold hearths! How the village maids shall -rub and scrub! How God’s good sunshine shall come -pouring in through those dull windows! How rosy this -Venus shall shine under the glow of the stained glass!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He turned to her, as if called by the sound of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>young voice back from the habitual grey dream that his -own silent home had come to be for him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See, cousin David, poor Diana too! She has not -felt on her breast a breath of sweet woodland air, I verily -believe, since—since I left the place myself these ten -years. She shall spring,” added Ellinor, after a moment’s -abstraction, “from a grove of palms. And when -the wind blows free, the shadow of the leaves shall fall -to and fro upon her and cheat her forest heart. At -least”—catching herself up as she noted his eye fixed -upon her with a strange look—“at least, Sir David, if -you will so permit.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He still looked at her musingly. In reality he was -going over the mere sound of her words in his mind, as -a man might recall the sweetness of a strain of music.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You shall have a free hand,” he said. “And, once -more, what you do shall be well done.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>An odd sense of emotion took hold of her, she knew -not why. More to conceal it than from any set intent, -she moved forward and turned the handle of the door -that, on the other side of the hall, led to the suite of -drawing-rooms. He followed close and they looked in -together. The vast abandoned apartment was full of -a musty darkness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Heavens!” she cried, “do they never open a -window?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Narrow slits of light darting in from the divisions in -the shutters cut through the heavy air and revealed, when -their eyes had grown accustomed to this deeper gloom, -the shapeless, huddled rows of linen-covered furniture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ghosts—ghosts!” said David under his breath.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With quick hands she unbarred a shutter and, her -impetuous strength making little of rusty resistance, flung -open the casement before he had had time to divine her -intention. He halted on his way to help her, arrested -by the gush of blinding light and the blast of wild wind, -that seemed to leap at his throat.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>“Oh,” she exclaimed, standing in the full ray and -breathing in—so it seemed to him—both the elements. -“Oh, the warm light, the sweet air!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A line of Shakespeare awoke in some corner of his -memory: “A thing of fire and air.” ... How -vividly it seemed to fit her then!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Without, the changeful day had turned to wind and -sun. She stood in the very shaft of the light, in the -flood of the breeze; he stood watching her from within, -in the gloom and the stagnation. Her black gown -fluttered and turned flame at the edges; alternately clung -to, and waved away from her straight limbs, now revealing, -now throwing into shadow the curves of a foot that, -in its sandal, pressed the ground as lithely as ever a -Diana’s arrested on the spring. The fresh airs engulfed -themselves under her kerchief into her white bosom. It -was as if he could watch them playing around her throat, -even as if he could see them fluttering and flattering her -hair.... Her hair! The sun’s sparkles had got -into it! Now it rose, nimbus-like; now it danced, a spray -of fire, back from her forehead; now again, under the -flying touches, it fell back and rippled like a cornfield -in the breeze.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This radiant creature! The more Sir David looked, -the further apart he felt his fate from hers. She seemed -to belong all to the dancing wind and the glad sun-light. -From such an one as he, from his melancholy, his -gloom, his fading life, she seemed as much cut off -as ever the unattainable stars from his wondering night -watch.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Thus they stood for the space of a minute. Then Ellinor -turned. Light and freshness now filled the great -room. The keen breath of the woods gaily drove into -corners and chased away the mouldy vapours, the vague, -shut-up breath of the old brocades, of the crumbling potpourris, -of the sandal-wood and Indian rose; even as the -light of Heaven drove the shadows back under the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>cabinets and behind the pillars, and awoke to life the gold -moulding and the fleur-de-lis on the white walls, the delicate -wreaths and tracery on the trellised ceilings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See, cousin David, the ghosts are gone!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the man had withdrawn to the shadow. There was -now no answering light in his eye. He had now no -phrase, tardy in coming, yet quick in the sympathy of -her thought, such as had before delighted her. What -had come to him? She gave a little laugh; the vigour, -the freedom from without had got so keenly into her -veins that she was as though intoxicated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I vow,” she cried, “you are like a ghost yourself! -Why, you look like a dim knight from the tapestry yonder -in the hall, wandering ...”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She broke off. The words were barely out of her -mouth before she had read upon his countenance that -they had struck some chord which it should have been -all her care to leave silent. It was not so much that his -pale face had grown paler or his deep eye more brooding, -it was more as if something that had been for a -while restored to life had once more settled into death; -as if an open door had been closed upon her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A ghost, indeed,” he said at last, after a silence, -during which she thought the sunshine faded and the -wind ceased to sing. “A ghost among ghosts!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!” she cried and quickly came close to him in -the shadow. The light passed from her face as the sun -sparkled away from her hair: a pale woman in a black -dress, she was now nothing more!</p> - -<p class='c013'>Imagination, that plant which wreathes with flowers -the open life of man, grows to mere clinging, unwholesome -luxuriance of stem and leaf in dark, secluded existences. -Sir David’s fanciful mind, disordered by too -long solitude, had become incapable of viewing in just -perspective the small events and transient pictures of -that every day world to which he had so persistently -made himself a stranger.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>The sudden difference in Ellinor’s appearance, following -as it did upon a deeply melancholy impression, struck -him as an evil portent.—This, then, was what would -happen to her youth and brightness, were fate to link -her life with one so unfortunate as he!</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stretched out her hand to touch him. The riddle -of his attitude baffled her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!” she repeated, pleadingly. He drew gently -back from her touch.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cousin,” he said, and she heard a vibration as of some -dark trouble in his voice, “keep to what sunshine this -old house will admit. But in God’s name do not seek -to explore its shadows.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But do you not see,” she cried, pointing to the open -window, “that all shadows give way before my hand?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He made no answer, unless a long look, inscrutable to -her, but yet that seemed to search into her very soul, -could be deemed an answer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come,” she went on resolutely. “Let us go through -this dim house of yours together, and see what can be -done. Ghosts!” she repeated, “the ghosts of Bindon -are rust and dust and emptiness and silence and neglect. -God’s light, dear cousin, and the wood airs, the birds’ -songs, soap and water, stout hearts and true, and good -company—give me but these and I’ll warrant you I’ll -lay your ghosts.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Into his earnest gaze came a sort of tender indulgence, -as for the prattle of a child.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come then,” said he, simply.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But she felt that now it was to humour her, and not -because she had reached the seat of his melancholy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>However, with heart and spirit as determined as her -step, she drew him with her through the long, desolate -rooms, leaving everywhere light and freshness where she -had found darkness and oppression. Then through the -ball-room, where the silence and the weighted atmosphere, -the shrouded splendour and the faded brilliancy made -doubly sad a space designed all for mirth and music. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>This feeling struck her in spite of her resolution; and -when, before passing out into the hall again, David paused -to look back and said, as if to himself: “Sometimes darkness -is best; at least it hides the void,” she had this time -no answer for him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Slowly they ascended the great oaken stairs that -creaked beneath their tread as if too long unused to -human steps. Slowly they paced the length of the picture -gallery, just illumined enough through drawn blinds -to show the little clouds of dust set astir by their feet -and to draw the pale faces of pictured ancestors from -the gloom of their canvas backgrounds. The shadowed -eyes, divined rather than seen in the delusive light, -seemed to follow Ellinor with wistful questioning: “What -will this child of ours do for our sorrowful house?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Slowly and silently they progressed through the long -suites of empty guest-chambers, where four-posters stood -like catafalques and unsuspected mirrors threw back at -them sudden phantom-like images of their own passing -countenances. At length Ellinor paused irresolute; then -she arrested David as he once more mechanically advanced -to unbar a shutter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay,” she said, “the rest shall sleep a few days more. -I have seen enough of the enchanted castle.” She tried -to laugh. “Not, mind you, that I doubt being able to -break its spell!” she added. But her laugh rang muffled, -even to herself, in an air that seemed too heavy to -hold it. She caught David by the sleeve, and dragged -him into the comparative cheerfulness of a corridor lit -at either end by a blessed gleam of blue sky.</p> - -<p class='c012'>They had reached once more the keep wing of the -house. There was stone beneath their feet, stone above -their heads, stone walls, ochre-washed on either side.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” cried she, a sudden wave of memory breaking -over her, called up by the vision through the deep hewn -windows. “How well I recollect! I used to play here. -This is the old nursery.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She flung open a narrow door; the long, low-ceiled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>room within was flooded with whitest light, for its -barred windows boasted no shutters. The shadows of -the tall trees outside danced like waters on the walls. -Cobwebs hung in festoons even in the yawning grate. -Two little beds stood covered with a patchwork quilt; a -headless rocking-horse was in one corner, a tiny wooden -chair in another. An empty nursery! As sad to look -on as an empty nest! Ellinor’s eyes brightened with -tears; a hot tide of passion, sprung of an inexplicable -mixture of feeling, rushed from her heart to her lips. -She turned almost fiercely on David, who had remained -in the doorway.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, why have you wasted your life?” she cried. -“Why have you turned your back on all the good things -God gives man? Why is your home desolate, your -hearth vacant, your heart solitary? David, David, this -house should never have been empty thus; there should -be children round your knee! What have you done with -your life?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The tears brimmed over and ran down her cheeks. -Then her strange passion fell away from her, and she -stood ashamed. He had started first and put up his -hand as if to thrust back her words. There was a long -silence. When he broke it, it was as one who speaks -upon the second thought, with the cold control that follows -an unadmitted emotion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For me such things will never be.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, why?” The cry seemed forced from her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He waved his hand with the gesture of the most complete -renunciation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Never,” he repeated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The word, she felt, was final. She gazed at him almost -angrily; then tears, caused now by mortification and confusion, -rose irresistibly again. To conceal them she -turned to the window, pulled open the queer little casement -and, leaning on her elbows, looked out in silence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Below her lay the Herb-Garden, with its variegated -autumn burden of berries, red or purple or sinister -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>orange; its groups of fantastically shaped leaves, turning -to tints not usually known in this sober clime; here a -patch, violet, nearly black; and there a streak of tropical -scarlet; elsewhere again mauve, verdigris-green—colours, -indeed, that village folk said, “no Christian plants ought -to produce.” The scents of them, as pungent yet different -in decay as ever in their blossom time, rose to -her nostrils mixed sweet and bitter, over-dulcet, poisonous -or aromatic-wholesome.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The sight and the smell were full of subtle reminiscence. -She felt her throbbing heart calm down, her hot -cheeks grow cool. In some mysterious way, now as in -her childhood, the Herb-Garden seemed to draw her and -to speak to her; to promise and withhold some fairy -secret, she knew not whether for joy or sorrow, but yet -incomparably sweet. As she gazed forth she noticed -the quaint figure of her father come into view from -behind a clump of bushes. He was attended by Barnaby, -who, under the direction of his master’s gesture, culled -leaves and flowers. Circling round the pair, Belphegor, -the black cat, could be seen gravely watching the proceedings. -There was something peaceful and world-detached -in the silent scene, and it brought back some of -that sense of rest and home-return which she had found -so blessed the previous night.</p> - -<p class='c012'>All at once she felt close to her the shadowing presence -of her cousin, and the next moment his touch upon her -shoulder sent her blood leaping.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For five years,” said David, “your father has been -looking for a certain plant. He says, Ellinor, that it is -the ‘True-Grace,’ the <em>Euphrosinum</em> of the ancients, called -by the primitive simplers at home, ‘Star-of-Comfort.’ -And its properties, as he believes, are to bring gladness -to the sore heart and the drooping spirit. But all traces -of it have been lost. If it still blooms, it blooms somewhere -unknown. Never an autumn passes but your -father plants fresh seeds, seeds that reach him from all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>parts of the world ... with fresh hope.” He -stopped significantly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She turned to him with wide eyes; he looked back at -her. Both his glance and voice were full of kindness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That would be a precious plant, would it not?” he -went on. “‘True-Grace’ ... ‘Star-of-Comfort.’ -Is there such a thing in this world? To your father its -discovery is what the quest of the Powder of Projection, -of the Elixir of Life was to the alchemist of old; -of Eldorado to the merchant-adventurer, of Truth to the -philosopher—does it exist? Will he ever find it?” Then -he added: “Who knows ... perhaps you will -have brought him luck.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And when he had said this his dark face was lit by -his rare smile.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What is it that could comfort you?” she cried, clasping -her hands.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His very gentleness brought her some comprehension -of a sadness illimitable as when the mists rise dimly -above vast seas and fall again. His face set into gravity -once more, his gaze wandered from her face out through -the little window to the far-off amethyst hills on the -horizon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To be able to forget ... perhaps,” he answered, -as if in a dream.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XII<br> <span class='large'>A KINDLY EPICURE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>——The easy man</div> - <div class='line'>Who sits at his own door; and, like the pear</div> - <div class='line'>That overhangs his head from the green wall,</div> - <div class='line'>Feeds in the sunshine ...</div> - <div class='line in16'>—<span class='sc'>Wordsworth</span> (<cite>Reflective Poems</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The fruit in the rectory garden, the pears from -the rector’s own tree, had all been culled; -Madam Tutterville had seen to that. And -where she ruled, if there was always abundance of the -choicest description, there was no waste.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector liked fruit to his breakfast. He belonged -to a generation who made breakfast an important meal; -an occasion for the feast of wit as well as of palate; for -the consorting of choice souls, the first freshness upon -them and the dew still sparkling upon the laurel that binds -the poet’s brow. The breakfast hour is one when the -mellow beam of good repose shines still in the eye, mitigating -the sarcasm of the man of humour, enhancing the -charm of the man of elegant parts, ripening the wits of -the learned. That hour (not unduly early, mind you) -when the morning has already gained warmth but not -lost crispness; when with pleasure and profit a party -of cultured gentlemen can meet, bloom as of peach on -well-shaven cheek—<i><span lang="fr">rasés à velour</span></i>, as the French barber -of those days quaintly had it—silk stocking precisely -drawn over re-invigorated muscle; and, thus meeting, -exchange the good things of the mutual mind with critical -sobriety, while discussing in similar manner the good -things of bodily refreshment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>They were good days when social convention countenanced -such hours of elegant leisure! Good times were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>they that still cherished the delicately dallying scholar, -the epicure in life and in learning; that admired the man -who knew how to sip and relish, and to whom essential -quality was of overpoweringly vaster importance than -quantity. A good age, when hurry was looked upon almost -as an ungentlemanly vice and the anxious mind of -business was held incompatible with culture!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Of such was the reverend Horatio Tutterville, D.D., -late Fellow of Oriel College, Oxford, Rector of Bindon. -And to him the breakfast hour was still sacred: an hour -of serene enjoyment to which he daily looked forward -as the great prize of life, and which prepared him for a -day of duties performed with admirable deliberation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>True, the fates had so marshalled his existence that -but few were the congenial friends who could now -and again come and share these pleasant moments under -the flickering shades of the pear-tree, or in the cosy -parsonage dining-room; sit at those tables—both round! -—which it was at once Madam Sophia’s pride and privilege -to supply with an exquisite and varied fare.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But little recked he of that; choice spirits there were -still with whom he could consort at any time; spirits -as rare as any who in Oxford Common-Room, in Town, -or in Cathedral precincts ever had communed with him. -Aye, and rarer! Spirits, moreover, ready at all hours -of the night or day, and always in gracious mood, to -yield their hoarded wisdom or sweetness to the lingering -appreciation of his palate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The choice of his morning’s companion always was -with Dr. Tutterville one of solicitude and discrimination. -A Virgil, or some other subtle singer of like brilliance, -on mornings when the sun was very hot and the sky -of Italian blue between the high garden walls; when -the bees were extra busy over the fragrant thyme beds, -and when some fresh cream cheese and honey and whitest -flour of wheat were most tempting on the fair cloth. -“Rare Ben Jonson,” perhaps, on a stormy autumn day, -when the wood fire roared up the chimney and a fine -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>old hearty English breakfast of the game pie or boar-head -order could be fitly topped up by a short, but -nobly creaming beaker of Audit ale.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Like so many men who have read sedulously in their -student days the reverend Horatio, now in his dignified -leisure, read little, but with nicest discrimination; and -in that little found an inexhaustible fund of unalloyed -contentment. He would also quote felicitously from his -daily reading as a man might from the conversation of -a valued friend.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It is indeed not every one who ever learns the art of -book-enjoyment. Your true reader must be no devourer -of books. To him the thought committed to the immortality -of print, crystallised to its shapeliest form, -polished to its best lustre, is one which demands and -repays lingering communion. If books are worth reading -at all, they should be allowed to speak their full meaning; -they should be hearkened to with deference. And -it was always in pages that compelled such honourable -attention that Dr. Tutterville sought that intellectual companionship -which made his country seclusion not only -tolerable, but blissfully serene.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville, whether from convenience to herself, -or (we had rather believe), from shrewd conception -of the proprieties and wifely respect for the moods of -her lord, never shared the forenoon repast. Indeed, she -had generally accomplished much business in household -or village before the learned divine emerged from that -sanctuary where the mysteries of his careful toilet and -of his early meditation were conducted in privacy and -decorum.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But it was on rare occasions indeed that she could -not snatch five minutes out of her multifarious occupations -for the pure pleasure of watching her Horatio’s -complacency as he sipped her coffee and his book.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Happy man, whose own capacity for enjoyment could -so gratify another’s!</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>On this particular morning—a week after the exciting -day of Ellinor Marvel’s return—Madam Tutterville, having -duly examined the weather-glass, scanned the sky -and personally tested the warmth of the air, deemed that -for perhaps the last time that year she might safely -set her rector’s breakfast in the garden.</p> - -<p class='c012'>For it was one of those days which a reluctant summer -drops into the lap of autumn; a day of still airs and -high vaulted skies, faintly but exquisitely blue; when, -red and yellow, the leaves cling trembling to the bough -from which there is not a puff of wind to detach them—and -if they fall, fall gently as with a little sigh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>On such a day the frost, that over-night has laid light, -white fingers everywhere, would be unguessed at but -for the delicate tart purity of the air, which the sunshine, -however it may warm it, cannot eliminate. A day -in which you might be cheated into thoughts of spring, -were it not for the pathos of the rustling leaf, the solitary -monthly rose, the boughs that let in so much more -heaven between them, and the lonely eaves where swallow -broods are rioting no longer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville, as we have said, knew her parson’s -tastes to a shade.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The round green table and rustic chair were therefore -set between that edge of sunshine and shadow that spelt -comfort. In her devoted soul the autumnal poetry was -translated into housewife practicality: into broiled partridge -still fizzling under the silver cover, a comb of -heather-honey, a purple bunch of grapes invitingly -stretched on their own changing leaves.</p> - -<p class='c012'>An hour later the good soul came forth again into the -garden to enjoy her reward. A covered basket on her -arm, that same plump, white member tightly folded with -its comrade over the crisp muslin kerchief and the capacious -bosom; the Swiss straw-hat, tied with a black -ribband under the chin, shading, but not concealing the -lace cap of fine Mechlin, the curls, and the rosy smiling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>countenance.... No unpleasing spectacle for any -reasonable husband’s eye! So thought the parson. As -her shadow fell across the patch of sunshine in front of -him, he looked up and smiled from the pages of his -book.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The companion of the morning was the Olympian who -has immortalised in beauty almost every theme and mood -of the human mind. It had struck the divine, whilst -inquiringly surveying his shelves, that the noble figure -of Prospero would be evoked with singular fitness on -this placid October morn. The volume—propped against -the glistening decanter of water—was one Baskerville’s -edition of Shakespeare and opened at Act IV. of the -Tempest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector, brought back from the green sward of -the wizard’s cell to his actual surroundings, smilingly -looked his inquiry as his spouse stood in patience before -him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, my delicate Ariel!” said he, with the most benevolent -sarcasm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Nor, as Madam Tutterville gazed down upon him, was -she behind him in conjugal complacency. Nay, as her -eyes wandered over the handsome countenance with the -classic firm roundness of outline, which might have -graced a Roman medal, her heart swelled within her -with a tender pride.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What a man is my Horatio!” she thought, not -without emphasis on the word “my.” For well she -knew how much her care had contributed to that same -rich outline.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Everything about this excellent man was ample. Ample -the wave of hair that rose in a crest from an expansive -brow and still sported a cloud of scented powder after -the fashion of his younger years. Ample the curve of -his high nose; ample the chin and nobly proportioned. -Ample the chest that gently swelled from under the -snowy ruffles to that fine display of broadcloth waistcoat -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>where dangled the golden seals and the watch that -methodically marked the flight of the rector’s golden -moments. But the rector’s legs had so far resisted -the encroachment of general amplitude. There the -only curve, one in which he took an innocent pride, -was a fine line that, under the meshes of well-drawn -silk hose, led from knee to heel with clean and elegant -finality.</p> - -<p class='c012'>No wonder that Madam Tutterville’s breast should -heave with the glory of possession.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her smile broadened, as she glanced from the well-picked -partridge bones to the plump fingers that now -toyed with the grapes. She noted also the reticent smile -that hovered on the divine’s lips, as if in sympathetic -answer to her own. Yet, though she beamed to see her -lord so content, the true inwardness of this same content -escaped her—naturally enough. What could Madam -Sophia know of that thousandth new elusive beauty he -had even now discovered in Prospero’s green and yellow -island? How could she guess that it had broken upon -his mental palate with a flavour cognate to that of the -luscious grapes she had provided? What could she -know of the spice of genial sarcasm that likened one of -her own vast proportions to the ministering sprite of -the amiable wizard—and yet saw a delightful modern -fitness in the comparison? Far indeed was she from -realising the endless amusement her conversation afforded -to a mind as accurate on one side as it was humourous -on the other.</p> - -<p class='c012'><i><span lang="la">Sermo index animi.</span></i> If speech be the mirror of the -mind, Doctor Tutterville’s mind revealed itself as elegant, -balanced, and polished. Nothing more orderly, more -concise, more jealously chosen than his word and enunciation. -Nothing, in short, could have been in more -absolute contrast to the hurling ambitious volubility of -his consort.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, Doctor Tutterville,” said madam, “did the bird -like you well!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>“The bird? Excellent well, Sophia. But first, or -last, your fine Egyptian cookery shall have the fame!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” said the lady, beaming, “Proverbs!—Yes. I -must say that for Solomon, he knew how to value a -wife.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No one was ever better qualified, my dear,” said the -parson kindly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was characteristic of the lady that, however unknown -the source of her husband’s illustrations, however unintelligible -his allusions, sooner would she have perished -than own it even to herself. And as he, in his original -enjoyment of her happy shots, was careful never to -correct her, the conversation of the admirable couple -proceeded with unchecked briskness on one side and ungrudging -appreciation on the other.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Doctor Tutterville drew his chair back from the table, -crossed his legs and prepared to enjoy himself, nothing -being better for the digestion than quiet laughter. -Madam deposited her basket, and selecting a snowy -churchwarden pipe from the box that reposed upon the -bench by the side of the pear-tree, proceeded to fill it -with Bristol tobacco out of a brass pot. Very lightly -did she stuff the bowl: for the Rector took his tobacco -as he took his other pleasures—a few light whiffs, the -best of the herb! “Once the freshness and fragrance -gone,” he was wont to say, “you might as well drink -wine after you had ceased to possess its flavour.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, my love?” said he, as he took the brittle stem -between his fore and second finger.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, Horatio,” said she, comfortably subsiding on -the bench. “I have been to Bindon, and, oh, my dear -Doctor, what a change has come over the place!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I remarked the improvement,” said the parson, “both -in sweetness and in light upon my visit three days ago. -That daughter of brother Rickart’s seems a capable -young woman.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Bring up a child,” quoth Madam Sophia, complacently. -“I flatter myself she does credit to my early -<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>training. You have not forgotten, Doctor, that ’twas -I who (as the scripture bids us) directed that young idea -how to shoot. I vow,” cried she, “I could not be setting -about things better myself. But, oh, Horatio, how are -the mighty humbled!... I refer to Margery Nutmeg.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Nutmeg’s manners are always so much too -humble for my liking,” said the divine, “that I presume -you allude thus rhetorically to her circumstances.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Certainly, my dear Doctor—<i><span lang="la">ex cathedrum</span></i>, as you -would say.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I never should, my dear. But let it pass.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You know what a thorn in the spirits these goings -on of hers have been to me and you will therefore lift -up your voice and rejoice, I feel sure, when I tell you -that my dear niece has now all the keys in her possession. -Margery has found her mistress again.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The divine laid down his pipe and the benign -amusement of his expression gave way to a look of -gravity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No doubt,” he said, after a pause, “you good ladies -know what you are doing. But personally, I should prefer -not to retain Mrs. Nutmeg on the premises if it was -my business to thwart her.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But madam, strong in a sense of victory over the -dreaded enemy, scouted the suggestion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That excellent girl, Ellinor, was actually having the -meat weighed and apportioned,” she announced triumphantly, -“at the very moment of my arrival this -morning. So Mistress Margery’s retail business hath -come to an end. A sheep killed every week, Horatio, -and pork in the servants’ hall! The woman was an -absolute Salomite! How often did I not remind her of -Paul’s warning! ‘Serve ye your masters with flesh in -fear and trembling.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The gentle merriment that Madam Tutterville was -happily wont to take as a token of approval in her lord, -here shook his goodly form.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>“But my voice was as that of the pelican in the wilderness. -Well, all her sweet smiles and curtseys this morning -would not take me in. She knows her day is over—though -she hides her rage.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“<i><span lang="la">Malevolus animus abditos dentes habet</span></i>,” murmured -the parson.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed, my dear Doctor,” plunged the lady, “you -never said a truer word. But what could she expect?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And have you forgiven your brother for so incontinently -presuming to quote the scriptures against you -the other day?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, Doctor, you know I never bear malice. And, -dear sir, if you had but seen him, I vow you’d scarcely -know him. He hath a new dressing-gown and that dear, -excellent girl has actually prevailed on him to trim his -beard!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I hope,” said the parson, “the young lady will leave -something of my old friend. From the days of Samson I -mistrust woman when she begins to wield her scissors -upon man. And have Simon’s other peculiarities departed -from him with his patriarchal beard and ancient -garments?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed, my dear Doctor, he was quite a lamb. I -have promised him a volume of your sermons, that which -refers to the keeping of the first, second, and third commandments, -that he may see for himself how reprehensible -are his dealings with magic and such things. ‘Take a -lesson’ (I cried to him) ‘of my Horatio’!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was proceeding with ever increasing, ever more -tripping volubility and unction—“Model your life ever -upon the Decameron, and you will never be far wrong!” -But here a Homeric burst of merriment interrupted the -flow of her eloquence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The reverend Horatio lay back in his chair, while the -quiet garden close rang to the unwonted sound of sonorous -laughter. When at length, with catching breath -and streaming eyes, he found strength wherewith to -speak:</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>“Perdition, catch my soul, most excellent wretch, but -I do love thee!” quoted he, and was promptly off again -with such whole-hearted and jovial appreciation that, feeling -she must indeed have pointed her moral with telling -appositeness, his lady’s countenance became suffused with -crimson and was also irradiated by her peculiarly infantile -smile of conscious delight. She pursed her lips -to prevent herself from spoiling the situation by another -word.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what did brother Simon reply?” asked the -rector, as soon as he became able to articulate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” said she proudly, “you will be gratified, Horatio: -he looked very grave and seemed much impressed; -said he could not promise, but that he would think it over; -he would watch and see how you got on.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Loud rang the parson’s laugh again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Meanwhile,” shrieked Madam Sophia, triumphantly, -“he said he would prefer to study the question in the -original Italian—whatever he may have meant by that. -I cannot but feel there is promise.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Extraordinary, extraordinary!” said Horatio Tutterville. -“And David?” he asked presently. “Are -you going to enrol him as a follower of Boccacio?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Doctor,” smiled the lady, “I flatter myself -that I can follow you in the vernal tongue as well as -anyone—but when it comes to Hebrew, I plead the -privileges of my sex! This much I understand, however: -you refer to David. Well, he also is putting off the old -man. Doctor,” she clasped her hands and drew her large -countenance wreathed in smiles of mystery, close to his -ear to whisper: “This will end in marriage bells! Mark -my words.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thus the prophetess!” replied the rector, with the -scoff of the true man for the match-making feminine. -“Alas, my poor Sophia, there’s no marrying stuff in -David!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He wiped his eyes, and rose.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>“Well,” he said, “after the bee has sipped he must -to work.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You will find,” said she, “a fire in your study, your -books as you left them last night and a bunch of our -last roses where you love to see them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sedately the reverend Horatio moved towards the -peaceful precincts, where awaited him the pages of his -next Advent sermons—and perhaps also the manuscripts -of those delicate commentaries on Tibullus, long promised -to his Oxford publisher.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span></div> -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE STAR DREAMER</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>BOOK II</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>The night</div> - <div class='line'>Hath been to me a more familiar face</div> - <div class='line'>Than that of man; and in her starry shade</div> - <div class='line'>Of dim and solitary loveliness</div> - <div class='line'>I learned the language of another world.</div> - <div class='line in34'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER I<br> <span class='large'>MIDSUMMER SUNRISE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>... the blue</div> - <div class='line'>Bared its eternal bosom, and the dew</div> - <div class='line'>Of summer nights collected still to make</div> - <div class='line'>The morning precious: Beauty was awake.</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<span class='sc'>Keats</span> (<cite>Sleep and Poetry</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>A dawn in June: the dawn of a night that has -held no real blackness, but merged from a sky -of sapphire to one of grey pearl—sapphire so -starlit, that ever deeper deeps and ever bluer transparencies -seemed to unveil themselves to the watchers eye; -grey pearl pulsing into opal, shot with milky pinks, faint -greens, ambers and primroses.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Into the dewy morning world came Ellinor; down -through the long stone passages that still held night and -silence; out into this awakening, this freshness, this lightsomeness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The wonders of the summer dawn, day after day, bring -to the old Earth, as it were, a new creation. She awakes -and finds the forgotten paradise from which man, of -his own sluggard choice, shuts himself out with gates -of darkness and leaden bolts of sleep.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor, her fair face emerging from the folds of her -dark, grey-hooded cloak, came pearl-like as the young -day itself from the folds of the night. Her slender foot -left its print on the dew-moist path. She passed between -the stately flower-beds through the great formal pleasure-grounds -where, under the sunrise radiance, the masses -of geranium blooms were taking to themselves silvery -colours unknown to the later day; between the ranks of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>cypress and box, whose grotesque and fantastic shapes -were duskily cut out against the transparent sky one -moment and the next seemed fringed with green flame -as the level rays leaped at them; up the shrubbery walks, -where the white syringa was breaking into odorous stars, -scattering its scented dew upon her as she brushed the -outstretched branches; under the black and solemn shades -of the yew-trees, until she reached the gate that gave -access to the Herb-Garden.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She walked slowly, drinking in the loveliness of the -hour. The bees were humming loudly over the spicy -beds. The whole garden was full of sweet growing -hum and stir; of the flash of wet bird wings. Its strange -blossoms swaying in the capricious little breeze seemed -to hold private councils, then nod familiarly at her, welcoming -and beckoning on.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor stood, her hand still on the gate, her brow -towards the radiant east; the hood had slipped from her -head and a sun-shaft pierced her hair. She never crossed -the threshold of this garden without a curious sense of -something impending. And now, as she paused to breathe -its ever new fragrances, the happy humour in which -she had started on her quest for herbs (to be gathered -at the hour of sunrise, according to Master Gerard’s own -prescription) gave place to the old childish sense of -mysterious awe and attraction.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And as she stood, musing, the sound of a rapid step -was heard on this garden space, so far consecrate to herself -and to the wild things; a darker shadow detached itself -from the heavy shade of the yew-tree. She turned -round quickly to face it. Sir David was beside her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The purity of the morning,” he thought, “and the -dawn still in her eyes!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!” she cried, astonished; and a happy rose -leapt into her cheek.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I saw you,” he said, “from my tower.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She glanced up to the frowning grey stone mass that -was beginning to cast sharply its long shadow on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>sunlit garden—then she looked back at his face, pallid -and a little drawn. And if he had seen the dawn in -her eyes she saw in his shadow of the night watch.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” she cried and menaced him with her white -finger. “No sleep again, David! And your promise?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The stars lured me,” he answered, smiling faintly. -Ellinor, however, did not smile. The rose flush faded -slowly from her face. The stars lured him! Would -it then always be so? She gave a little sigh. Then, -without speaking, she drew a key from her reticule and -slipped it into the lock; it required the effort of both -her strong hands to turn it, but she would do it herself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay, cousin, it is a fancy of mine. I alone am -trusted with the keys of the sanctuary. It is I that shall -open to you the gate of our Herb-Garden.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>It fell back, groaning on its hinges; and she stood -inside, smiling again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come in, David.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you know,” he said, still standing on the threshold, -humouring her mood according to his wont, “that -I have actually never trodden this rood of ground before.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She clapped her hands with joy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then it is indeed I who will have brought you here,” -she cried. “That is right. Oh, cousin, don’t you know, -this is the enchanted garden, my garden! Ah, you did -not know that, lord of Bindon! You deemed it was -yours perhaps, though you never bethought yourself even -of visiting it. But it was given to me by a fairy, years -and years ago. And it is full of spells and dreams and -magic! I will tell you something: That night, when I -came back last autumn ... the first thing I did -when I went to my room was to open my window that -gives on the garden—you see that window there—and -I leant out over the whispering ivy leaves to greet my -garden. And in the dark of the night I heard it speak -to me. And it said: I am still yours—David, come in!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With one of his unconsciously courtly gestures to mark -that it was indeed on her invitation that he came upon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>her ground, he entered slowly, looking at her with a -little wonder. For this fantastic Ellinor was as new -to him as this day’s dawn. She guessed his thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I vow,” she said and seemed to shake off her fancy -as she might have brushed from before her face a floating -gossamer—“I vow that I am becoming infected with -some musing sickness! But between you, my cousin -star-gazer, and my good alchemist father, it were odd -if there were no such humour in the air. Hold my -basket, dear David, I will be practical again.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER II<br> <span class='large'><em>EUPHROSINE</em>, STAR-OF-COMFORT</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>She still took note that, when the living smile</div> - <div class='line'>Died from his lips, across him came a cloud</div> - <div class='line'>Of melancholy severe; from which again,</div> - <div class='line'>Whenever in her hovering to and fro,</div> - <div class='line'>The lily-maid had striven to make him cheer,</div> - <div class='line'>There brake a sudden beaming tenderness.</div> - <div class='line in26'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Elaine</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>“And do you not wish to know,” asked Ellinor, -“what has brought me with the dawn to -these gardens?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He had been watching silently by her side—watching -her, as here she snipped a bundle of leaves and there a -sheaf of blossoms, and mechanically extending the basket -that she might lay them therein. Now, after a fashion -of his, to which she had grown well accustomed, he let -fall a glance upon her as one bringing himself back -from a distance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She repeated her question, with a little pretence of -impatience.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I do not think that I wondered to see you,” he answered -slowly.—Fastidious as he was in his garb and -every exterior detail that concerned him, it was all as -nothing, Ellinor had learned to know, compared to his -mental fastidiousness. A silent man he was, but when -he spoke no words could serve him but such as could -clothe the truth to the most exquisite nicety. Could anyone -have been more ill equipped for the battle of life?</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I was standing on the tower,” he went on, “watching -the withdrawal of the stars and the rise of another -day. It is not often that I look to the earth. When the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>stars go, then, you see, the world is blank to me. But -this morning, I know not why, when the skies grew -faint I did look upon the earth and found it very fair. -And so I stood and watched and saw the colours grow. -Then you came forth into the midst of them; and somehow -I thought it was as if you were part of the beauty -of it all—part of the dawn; as if you were something -that the earth and I myself had unconsciously been waiting -for to complete the whole. Thus you see, Ellinor, -it did not enter into my mind to ask why you had come. -I sought you,” he smiled as he spoke, “also, indeed, I -know not why.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>As Ellinor listened her white eyelids had fallen over -her eyes, lower and lower, till the long lashes, black at -the base, upturned and tipped with gold at their ends, -cast shadows on her cheek. Her breast heaved with the -quickening of her breath. But at the last word she -looked up at him, and her eyes were sad.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, cousin, will you ever know?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was almost a cry; it had a ring of hidden bitterness -in it. Then, after a slight pause, she resumed her -snipping and became once more, as she had announced, -practical.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, now you shall be told why I am here. And -first, please understand that I combine with my duties of -housekeeper to the lord of Bindon, those of ’prentice or -familiar to the alchemist—simpler—sorcerer; in short, -to Master Simon, my father. Now, as you know,” she -pursued, assuming a mock orating tone, “my said father -spends now all his days and most of his night in extracting -divers salts, distilling essences, elixirs, what not—remedies -for which the village folk flock to him with -enthusiasm, and which being, praise Heaven, harmless -enough, are applied to their ills with varying success but -entire satisfaction to themselves. These remedies are -mostly grown in this garden.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She began to move down the path which led from bed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>to bed and which no foot but that of the simpler himself, -of the dumb boy Barnaby, or her own having hitherto -trod, was so narrow and encroached upon by the wild -luxuriance of the herbs and shrubs that she was fain -to walk in front of him and to speak over her shoulder. -And even then, beneath their feet, many a broken and -crushed simple gave forth its spicy ghost.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her face presented itself to him in different aspects -every moment. Now he caught but a rim of pearly cheek; -now a clear cut profile; now nearly the whole delicate -oval narrowed as she turned it towards him over her -shoulder, the white chin more pointed. Meanwhile she -spoke on gaily, with only here and there a pause to consider, -to select and cull.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I need not tell you, who have known my father so -many more years than I myself, that while he makes use -of the good old simple writers, Master Gerard, Master -Robert Turner, Master Parkinson and the rest, he scoffs -at what he calls their superstition. But I, having relieved -him from the task of gathering, find it my pleasure -to follow the quaint old directions in their least particular. -And when Master Gerard, for instance, says, ‘This herb -loseth its power unless it be gathered under the rays of -the moon in her first quarter’ why then, cousin David,” -she laughed, “under the rays of the moon in her first -quarter I gather it. Who knows if I do not please -thereby some honest ghost? Who knows if there be not -in very truth some hidden virtue in the hour? You will -have divined that the hour of sunrise is, on the same -authority, the only fit season for the culling of certain -other precious plants. And so I am here to cull betony -and ditander in the dew. (Betony, you must know, sir, -is of all simples, except vervaine, the most excellent, so -that it is an old say: ‘If you be ill, sell your coat and -buy betony.’)”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Here she pushed her way through a bed where thyme -had grown breast high. She came back again presently, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>flushed and be-pearled, merry with the breath of the -spices clinging to her garments, and with as much betony -as one hand could hold together. This she added to -the basket’s burden.</p> - -<p class='c012'>On ran her tongue the while:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” catching herself up abruptly and retracing her -way by a step, “the ditander is also blossoming, I see. -Father will be glad to see it. It is sovereign against the -wounds of arrows ‘shot from guns, and also for the -healing of poisoned hurts.’ You would never guess,” -she added, “that the juice of this modest little plant -is so powerful that, Master Gerard avers, ‘the mere smell -of it will drive away venomous beasts and doth astonish -them!’” Her laugh rang out, clear as crystal. “You -are not convinced, cousin. I would I could see more -speculation in that eye! What if I were to tell you -that the thing grows under the influence of Mars—would -it awaken more interest?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His grave lip was faintly lifted to a smile.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It might account at least for its virtue against -wounds of arrows,” said he.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay, there’s sarcasm in that tone,” she said, shaking -her head. “More respect, I beg of you, Sir David, -for this little borage. Does it not look quaint and simple -with its baby-blue flowers and its white downy stem? -Ah, I warrant me you have had borage in your wine ere -this—but you never knew why or how it came there! -Oh, sir, it is no less—on authority, mark me—than one -of the four great cordial flowers most deserving of -esteem for cheering the spirits. The other three are -the violet, the rose, and alkanet. And what the alkanet -is I should much like to know!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>... “You know so much,” he said, “that I -have no thought to spare for what you do not know.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sarcastic again—take care, cousin! Do not mock at -Jupiter’s own cordial. And I tell you more, sir: conjoined -with hellebore—black hellebore—that dark and -gloomy plant will, as one Robert Burton has it:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>‘Purge the veins</div> - <div class='line'>Of Melancholy and cheer the Heart</div> - <div class='line'>Of those black fumes that make it smart;</div> - <div class='line'>And clear the brain of misty fogs</div> - <div class='line'>Which dull our senses, our souls’ clogs....</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“It’s a favourite quotation of my father’s. Would -you drink of it, if I brewed it for you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There fell a sudden silence—a something dividing their -pleasant warmth of sympathy as of a chill breeze blowing -between them. And she knew a thoughtless word -had struck upon his hidden sore. She stood, as if -convicted, with eyes averted from his face. Then he -spoke:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Every man in his youth brews the cup of his own -life and spends his age in drinking of it, willy nilly. -Sometimes, I think, it is blind fate that has gathered -the ingredients to his hand. Sometimes I see they are -but the choice of his own perversity. But once brewed, -he must drink, be they bitter or sweet.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cousin—” she began timidly. Then, after her woman’s -way, courage came to her on a sudden turn of passion: -“I’ll not believe it!” she cried, flashing upon him. -“Throw the poison away, David. There is glad wine -yet in this beautiful world.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His face relaxed as he looked upon her; the gloomy -cloud passed from it. But the melancholy remained.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you remember,” said he, “for I too can quote—what -Lady Macbeth says: ‘All the perfumes of Araby -cannot sweeten this little hand!’ My bright cousin, -believe me, there is a bitterness which no sweetness that -ever was distilled, nay, I fear, not even such as you -could distil, can ever mitigate. Have you not learned,” -he added, and a certain inner agitation made his lips -twitch and the pupils of his eyes dilate and found a distant -echo in his voice as of some roaring waters deeply -hidden—“have you not learned, over your father’s crucibles -and phials, that the sweetest essence does but lose -its nature and become bitter too for ever, when mingled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>with but a few drops of the acrid draught. Ellinor, I -have warned you already.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She felt as if some cold hand had been laid on her -heart:—here spoke again the voice of the sick soul determined -to renounce. And here was the one man in -her whole world, to whom she would so fain give extravagantly. -There are natures to which love means taking -only; others to which it means giving all. How she would -have given! The ache of the tide thrust back upon her -heart rose to her very throat. She went white, even to -her brave lips. But still they smiled, as women’s lips -will smile in such straits.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You mind me,” she said, “that I was after all forgetting -to gather the hellebore. ’Tis a dark drug-plant, -cousin and loves the shade; and, if the old simplers speak -truth, it must be gathered before a ray of sun shall of a -morning have opened its green petals. I see that I must -hurry. Already the shadow of your grey tower is shortening -across the beds.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She took her basket from his arm, gave him a little -nod as of dismissal and passed quickly from him. He -let her go without a word or a gesture, standing still, -wrapt in himself, with eyes downcast. Those deep waters -in his soul, that for so many long years had lain black -and stagnant—what was it that had so stirred them of -late days, that they should rise in waves like the salt and -bitter sea and dash against his laboriously built dykes -of peace and renunciation?</p> - -<p class='c013'>Ellinor was long on her knees beside the hellebore, not -indeed that she was busy picking it, for her hands lay -idly before her. With eyes fixed unseeingly upon its -dark, poisonous looking tufts, she was tasting the savour -of a slow gathering tear. Suddenly she felt her cousin’s -presence again close upon her and began feverishly to -tear at the plant, every energy of her mind bent upon -concealing her weakness. In another moment, with a -sweetness that was almost overpowering, she knew that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>he was kneeling beside her, his shoulder to her shoulder, -his hands over hers.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear Ellinor,” he said softly in her ear, “I do not -like to see you touch this poisonous plant, let me——” -And then, breaking off, when she turned her face, so -close to his, as if irresistibly drawn to seek his glance: -“Forgive me!” he cried, with more emotion than she -had ever heard his measured tones express before. “By -what right am I always thus casting upon your happy -heart the shadow of my gloom!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her fingers closed passionately round his.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David,” she said, almost in a whisper, “don’t forget -I too have known suffering. David you were wrong -just now. The sweet and the bitter work together make -wholesome beverage. And see, for that do I gather hellebore -that it may blend with the borage. Did I not tell -you so? And—ah, forgive, but I must say it, sometimes -the bitterness and the sorrow are not real, only -fancied.... And then it may be that real adversity -must come to make us see it. And even then, if -we do see it, sweet are the uses of adversity!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, then, I could believe,” he answered her, and -his deep voice still thrilled with that note of emotion -that was so inexpressibly musical to her ear, “that if a -man were to be comforted by such as you, he might -find a sweetness even in adversity—that is,” he added -on a yet deeper note, “did he dare let himself be comforted.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She sighed and dropped her hands from his; took up -her basket and rose to her feet. He also rose hastily, as -if ashamed of his emotion, and once more wrapped -reserve around him like a mantle. Presently he said, in -that slightly jesting manner that never lost touch with -melancholy:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Your father has long been looking for the lost ‘Star-of-Comfort.’ -Your father is an amiable materialist and -believes that a right-chosen drug can minister to a mind -diseased. I fear me it will prove to him as frail a quest -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>as that of the Fern Seed of invisibility and the Lotos -of forgetfulness—and such like dreams of unattainable -good!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are wrong, wrong again!” Although the moisture -she scorned to brush away was still in her eyes, -the smile was on her lip once more; and the dimple by -it—a triumphant dimple.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How so?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, sir, you once were a truer prophet than now -you wot of. Did you not foretell to me, on the first day -of my return, that I might help him to find it? The -lost plant was, according to Master Ralph Prynne (of -fragrant memory) well-known at one time in the south -of France where, says he, upon diligent search it may -even now be discovered among ruins and rocks!” Here -she resumed her mock didactic manner. “‘It is my -belief,’ says he, ‘that the gay and singularly careless -temper of these peoples is due in great part to the ancient -custom of brewing it into the wine they did drink of—whereby -their sons and daughters did inherit the happy -tendencies engendered in themselves—and splenetic melancholy -which sits so black on many of our country is -never known among them.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A wondrous drug!” said David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So I thought,” she retorted; and, with a mocking -glance at him, went on: “And knowing how many indeed -stand in need of it here, I who had recently come -myself from the south of France, resolved to get him -the seed or root, if such were to be obtained. Master -Prynne gives a very detailed description and I have a -good memory. There was one, a wise woman I knew of, -who was learned in simples. In fine, sir, turn and -behold!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She twisted him round, led him a pace or two forward, -and pointed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>On a shallow bed, sloping to due south, screened from -the north and prepared with a kind of rockery clothed -with mingled sand and heather soil, a hardy-looking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>dwarf plant was growing in thick patches. And sundry -small but vigorous off-shoots, darting here and there -gave promise that they would soon cover the bed and -overhang its rocky borders. The full sunshine blazed -down upon it, and the minute bright and bold blossoms -that gemmed it already in places looked like stars of -bluish flame among the lustrous dark green leaves.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Behold!” repeated Ellinor, with a dramatic gesture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a stimulating aromatic fragrance in the air. -The morning sun which had just emerged from the edge -of the keep bore down upon them with an effulgence as -yet merely grateful. A band of puzzled bees was hovering -musically above the last attractive new-comer in -the herbary. David looked from the flourishing bed to -the straight, strong figure, the brave countenance of his -cousin.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And so you have succeeded,” he said with a look -of smiling wonder. “Succeeded where Master Simon -has sought in vain so many years! Everything you -touch seems to prosper.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Some realisation of that spirit of gay perseverance which -had been so beneficently active in his neglected house all -these months, beneath whose influence flowers of order -and brightness seemed to have sprung up, magic and -fragrant as the lost “Star-of-Comfort” itself, kindled -a new light in the eye he now kept fixed upon her. It -was a realisation, a sense of admiration, distinct from -the ever-present, albeit hardly-conscious attraction. He -looked back at the flame-starred creeping shrub.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So there blooms Master Simon’s True-Grace, this -<em>Euphrosinum</em>, his Star-of-Comfort, after all these years,” -he went on musingly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And the sense of her presence was intermingled with -the penetrating fragrance of the strange flower, the -music of bees and bird call, the fanning of the breeze, and -the warmth of the sun.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In Persian,” she resumed, “they call it <em>Rustian-al-Misrour</em>—the -‘Plant-of-Heart’s-Joy’ is the meaning of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>it, so Prynne tells us. It was brought to Europe by -the Crusaders, but lost in the destruction of monastery -gardens in England, and fell into disuse elsewhere—and -thus came to be regarded as a myth. But things -are not myths because we lose them,” she added wistfully. -“Who knows, sometimes the joy we deem lost -is under our hand.” She picked off a branchlet and -absently nibbled it. And her light breath, already sweet -as of clover or lavender, came wafted across spiced with -this new fragrance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well,” said he then slowly, “according to the bygone -simplers, there it lies. Ellinor, when you brew me -a cordial of the Star-of-Comfort, I shall drink it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I may mind you of that promise one day,” said she.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then, upon the little pause that ensued, she looked at -the shortening shadows and the skies and said, in her -womanly, careful manner, that it was time for her to -be in the dairy. At the garden gate, however, he -paused.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And under the influence of what star,” he asked, -“is the wondrous plant supposed to bloom?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She could not guess from his manner whether he spoke -in jest or in earnest, but she answered him mischievously, -as she turned the key in the lock: “Master Prynne was -silent on this point; and nowhere could I find news of it. -But we are quite safe, cousin David, for I planted the -first cutting myself under your new star.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He started ever so slightly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Did you indeed?” he murmured dreamily.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But I don’t know its name yet. Tell me, you must -have given your new star a name by now—for I think -it grows brighter night by night.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>In silence he let his deep gaze rest for a moment upon -her, then answered:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To me it is still nameless, though meaning things -beyond words.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He paused, and went on, still compassing her with -his absorbed look. “You and the star came to me together—shall -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>I not call it also,” with a gesture at the -flowering bed, “Euphrosine—Star-of-Comfort?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>These words, accompanied by the glance that seemed -to give them so earnest a significance, troubled Ellinor -strangely. She could find no response. She drew the -key from the lock and was moving forward with downcast -eyes when he laid his touch lightly upon her arm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you,” said he, “for admitting me into your -enchanted garden! Some morning when the dawn birds -are calling, or some evening before the stars come out, -may I knock at this gate again?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay, David,” cried she, with swift uplifted eyes, -holding out to him the key on the impulse of her leaping -heart, “this gate must never be locked for you! My -father has another—take this one!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His fingers closed upon her hand and then he took -the brown key and looked at it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For you and me alone,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She knew then that this hour they had spent together -in the dew-besprinkled closes was to him as sacred and -as sweet as it would ever be to her. But now he had -folded his lips together and went beside her in silence.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER III<br> <span class='large'>A QUEEN OF CURDS AND CREAM</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>And Enid brought sweet cakes to make them cheer,</div> - <div class='line'> · · · · ·</div> - <div class='line'>And stood behind and waited ...</div> - <div class='line'>And seeing her so sweet and serviceable,</div> - <div class='line'>Geraint had longing in him evermore</div> - <div class='line'>To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb</div> - <div class='line'>That crost the trencher as she laid it down.</div> - <div class='line in32'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Idylls</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>At the end of the lane, Ellinor took the path which -branched off to the courtyards; and, as she made -no movement of farewell or dismissal, the master -of the place, with great simplicity, followed her. These -courtyards were located in the most ancient part of Bindon, -where in mediæval days had been the inner bailey. -What remained of the lowered towers and curtains had -been utilised for the peaceful purposes of spences, bakehouses -and dairies.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As in the case of all buildings, the life of which has -gradually dwindled, these precincts had gathered to -themselves a mellow and placid picturesqueness. Long -tranquil years had clothed them with luxuriance. It -was as if the green tide of surrounding nature had taken -delight in reconquering the whilom bare array of stone -and mortar. Rampant ivies and wild creeping plants -had long ago stormed the half-razed ramparts from the -outside, and unchecked in their assault now pounced into -the yards over the roofs. On the inside the blush roses -were foaming up the grey walls; the square of grass in -this shaded spot was deeply green.</p> - -<p class='c012'>In the early light and the silence it was a scene of -singular placidity and fitted well with David’s unwontedly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>pleasant mood; mood of tired body and vaguely happy -mind. A few pigeons from the high-reared cot came -fluttering down and walked about, curtseying expectantly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Presently two milk-maids, in print frocks, sun bonnets -and clogs, clattered down some stairs and went in quickly -through the dairy door, agitated at perceiving the task-mistress -up before them. Their entrance broke the -musing spell of the two unavowed lovers. As they drew -near the open door of the house, the cool breath of the -dairy—a sort of cowslip breath, of much cleanliness, -mingled with the faintly acrid sweetness of the milk—came -to their nostrils. A row of shining pails were -ranged upon the low stone bench just outside the door. -A lad and maid hurried past, each carrying two more -foaming buckets.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor now became the decided, almost stern, mistress -of household matters. She counted the milk pails and -gave an order to each maid, who curtseyed and stood -at attention, but could not keep a roving, awestruck eye -from the unwonted spectacle of their master.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Rosemary, three pails for the dairy, as usual. Two -for the house: up with them, Kate! Sally, back to your -skimming as soon as you have filled the steward’s can -and carried in the pail for the parish dole out of the -sunshine. Stay a moment,” her tone and manner altered, -“leave one of those here—Cousin David, have you broken -your fast? Of course not! Then you and I, shall we -not do so now together? Nay, I shall be disappointed -if you refuse. You have made me queen of these realms—the -‘queen of curds and cream,’ as Doctor Tutterville -calls me—and all must obey me here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a stone porch jutting forth over the side -door that led into the passage. Within this refuge, on -either side, was set a stone bench under an unglazed -ogee window. Honeysuckle had intermingled its growth -with that of the climbing roses, and made there -a parlour of perfume. Hither Ellinor conducted the -lord of Bindon, and here he allowed himself to be installed, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>obeying her as one who walks in dreams and -is glad to dream on.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The maids had parted in noisy flight, each on her different -errand, starched gowns crackling, clogs clacking, -pails clinking as they went. Ellinor threw down her -cloak and her basket and disappeared, light as the lapwing, -rejoicing with all a woman’s joy to minister to -the beloved. She returned with a little wooden table, -which, smiling, she set before him and was gone again. -This time it was out into the yard and into the dairy, -and her head flashed in a sun-shaft. When she reappeared, -she was walking more slowly, and between her -hands was a yellow glazed bowl brimming with new-drawn -milk.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For you, Sir David,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was foaming and fragrant of clover blossom as he -lifted it to his lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And now,” she went on, “you shall taste of my -baking. I had a batch set last night and the rolls ought -to be crisp to a touch.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The following minute brought her back, flushed and -triumphant, bearing on a tray a smoking brown loaflet, -a ray of amber honey and a rustic basket full of strawberries. -She paused a second reflectively, and cried:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A pat of fresh-churned butter!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And again his eyes watched her cross the shaft of -sunshine and come back, and they were the eyes of a -man gazing on a dear and lovely picture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now, David, is this not a breakfast fit for a king?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He looked at the table and then at her; and then put -down the loaf his long fingers had been absently crushing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And you?” he asked and rose. “You—the queen?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I? Oh, I think I forgot myself. Oh, don’t get -up, David. Don’t, please! You cannot imagine how -much refreshed I shall feel when you have eaten. There, -then, I will sit beside you. But as there is no pleasure -in waiting upon oneself, I must call up a court menial. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>Katy! A bowl of milk for me. Rosemary, another roll -from the oven!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>This was to remain a memory of gold in Ellinor’s life. -Poets may sing as they will of the joys of mutual love -confessed. But there is an hour more exquisite yet in -man and woman’s life: the hour of love still untold. -The hour of trembling hopes and uncertainties; of -ecstasies hidden away in the inmost sanctuary of the -being; of dreams so much more beautiful than reality; -of thoughts that no words can clothe and music that no -instrument can render. Hour of doubt which is to certainty -as the dawn is to the day, as mystery is to revelation: -as much more enthralling, as much more exquisite.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Even as the soul is constrained by the body, so must -the ideal thought lose of its fragrance when limited to -the spoken word. But the very condition of life’s tenure -urges us to hasten ever onwards towards the success of -attainment. We may not sit and taste the full sweetness -of the present because our foreseeing nature and old Time -are spurring us on, on! This present of ours is fleeting -enough, God knows. Yet the miserable restlessness -within us robs us of the minute even while it is ours. -Thus the most perfect things in our lives will ever be -a memory. But when the golden hours have all tolled -for us, when the flowers are all withered, at least we -can look back and say: “That was my sunrise hour. ... That was my perfect rose!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>They spoke little to each other, but Ellinor saw the -lines of melancholy fade out of his face and become -replaced by soft restfulness. Tired he looked, the watcher -of the night, in the broad radiance of the day, but happy. -It was as if the fatigue itself brought a sense of -peace, lulling him to dreaminess and depriving him -of the energy to fight against the sweetness of the -moment.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>Suddenly, with the light tread of a cat, the squat -figure of Mrs. Nutmeg, in her decent widow’s black and -her snowy mutch, came upon them from the house. She -paused with a start of such extreme surprise that it was -in itself an impertinence, and the more galling because -it could not be resented. Ignoring the scarlet-cheeked -Ellinor, the housekeeper dropped her curtsey and offered -ostentatious excuses to Sir David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I humbly ask your pardon, sir. Indeed, sir, I had -no idea, or I would not have made so bold as to intrude. -I hope, sir, you’ll forgive me for disturbing you at such -a moment!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her eye roved as she spoke over the disordered table, -aside to Ellinor’s cloak and the basket of withering herbs; -then back to Ellinor herself, where it deliberately measured -every detail—the dusty shoe, the green stains on -the gown, the flushed brow, the disordered hair.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her unconscious master waved his hand a little impatiently -with his formal “Good morrow,” that was more -a dismissal than a greeting. Mrs. Nutmeg returned Sir -David’s brief salutation with another unctuous curtsey. -Withdrawing her glance from Ellinor, she fixed it upon -his face, with a vain attempt to throw an expression of -tender solicitude into the opaque white and the meaningless -black of her eye.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Excuse the liberty, sir,” she began again, “but do -you feel quite yourself this morning? It do go to my -heart to see how drawn and ill you be looking! I fear -these last months, sir, you haven’t been as usual. Not -at all. More has remarked it than myself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor rose.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It’s getting late, Margery,” she said, “and the cream -is not skimmed yet. Ring the bell for the girls.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, ma’am,” Margery curtseyed, her eyes still clinging -unwaveringly to her master’s face. This was now -turned upon her with a sudden frown.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you not hear?” said Sir David.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>They robbed him freely in his absence, this household -of his, but none could forget in his presence that he -was master.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir, yes ma’am. I ask your pardon,” said Mrs. -Nutmeg.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And this time there was flurry in her step as she moved -away, her list slippers padding on the flags. She cast -not another glance behind her; yet Ellinor felt chilled, -she knew not why. Upon the dial that had marked her -warm-tinted hour a grey shadow had fallen. She took up -her basket of herbs. Most of the perishable things were -already withering, but the dry vivacious stems of the Star-of-Comfort -flaunted their glossy leaves and their tiny -brilliant blossom undimmed. She noticed this, and was -superstitiously glad.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I must go, cousin,” she said, “but later, if you will, -I shall come and help on with the new chart.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She nodded and left him. As she moved across the -courtyard towards her father’s den, the maids, hustling -each other as they clacked into the dairy, looked after -her with inimical stare. Then one whispered to the other, -and the other nudged back, while the third surreptitiously -shook her mottled fist. And as Ellinor walked on with -steady step she knew it all. She knew that “the Queen -of curds and cream” sat on an insecure throne; and -that, were the power that had placed her there to be withdrawn -from her, many eager hands would be stretched -out to pull her into the mire.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But upon the first step leading down to the laboratory, -she turned and cast a glance back: in the deep shadow -of the porch David was still standing. Out of the dark -face the light eyes were watching her; when she turned, -he smiled and waved his hand. And her spirits rose -again as she ran down the stairs, to begin her long round -of various work. She had stuck a sprig of the Euphrosinum -in her kerchief; and during the whole day, -whether over crucible or household book, in linen closet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>or still-room, each time the scent of it was wafted -to her nostrils there came and went upon her lips a little -secret smile, as if the fragrant thing on her bosom were -but the symbol of some inner fragrance rising in little -fitful storms from her heart.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER IV<br> <span class='large'>OPEN-EYED CONSPIRACY</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Let me loose thy tongue with wine:</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line c002'>No, I love not what is new:</div> - <div class='line'>She is of the ancient house,</div> - <div class='line'>And I think we know the hue</div> - <div class='line'>Of that cap upon her brows!</div> - <div class='line in16'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Vision of Sin</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Old Giles, in the plate-room! Old Giles, butler of -Bindon and confidential servant to Sir David, -sunk in his wooden armchair and his head inclined -till his double chin rested on his greasy stock, surveying -with distasteful eye the mug of small-ale on the -table before him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A stout old man with a reddening nose may be no unpleasant -picture if superabundance of flesh and misplacement -of carmine bear witness to jollity and good cheer; -but oh lamentable spectacle if melancholy droop that ruby -nose; if fat cheeks hang disconsolate! Then for every -added ounce of avoirdupois is added a pound of misery. -Your melancholy thin man is fitted by nature to bear his -burden, but the sad fat man seems to deliquesce, to collapse—so -much in his case is affliction against the obvious -design of nature!</p> - -<p class='c013'>From the inner pantry door Margery stood a moment -and contemplated her fellow servant awhile, with an air -of deeper commiseration than her usually set visage was -wont to express. Then she carefully closed the door and -advanced to the table. In her rolled up apron she was -clasping something with both hands.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>“Eh,” she said, in a long drawn note, “it do go to my -heart, Mister Giles, to see you so cast down!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The butler rolled his lack-lustre eye from the mug -of beer to the housekeeper’s countenance; then his underlip -began to tremble.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” he answered, “that stuff is killing me, Mrs. -Nutmeg. The cold of it on my stomach! It’ll creep up -to my heart some of these nights, it will! And that will -be the end of poor old faithful Giles!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A tear twinkled on his vast cheek. He stretched out -his hand for the glass, gulped a mouthful of it and replaced -it on the table, drawing down the corners of his -mouth into a grimace not unlike that which in an infant -heralds a burst of wailing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cold, cruel, poisonous stuff, that lies as heavy as heavy! -Half a caskful, ma’am will not stimulate a man as much -as half a wineglassful of port-wine or sherry-wine. It’s -murder—that’s what it is!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Murder it is,” assented Margery. She took the glass -and threw its contents into the grate: sympathy personified. -Then she began to move about the room with an -air of so much mystery that Giles’ attention was faintly -roused in something external to himself and to the odiousness -of small-ale.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Nutmeg went to the pantry door, listened a moment -with stooped head, then released her right hand -from the enfolded object and turned the key in the lock. -Stepping to the high-set window, she next squinted east -and west, as if to make sure that no watchers were about; -then returned to the table, slowly unrolled her apron -and displayed to the butler’s astonished gaze a black -bottle, cobwebbed, dust-crusted, red-sealed—a bottle of -venerable appearance and, to the initiated, of Olympian -promise. With infinite precaution she tilted it into a -vertical position and placed it on the table, displaying in -so doing the dusty streak of whitewash which had -marked the upper side of its repose these twenty years. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>Into old Giles’ expressionless stare leaped a light of -rapturous recognition.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The Comet port, by gum! The port from the fifth -bin!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He raised himself in his chair and, as if sight were not -enough for conviction, began with trembling hands to -caress the bottle, and smacking his lips as if the taste -were already upon them. Margery surveyed him -with her head slightly on one side.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How—how did you get it?” he babbled, now sniffing -at the seal, his red nose laid fondly first on one side then -on the other.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Never you mind,” said she, “I’m not the one to stand -by and see old service drove to death by stinginess nor -yet by interference. There’s more where it came from.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The last bottle we drank together,” interrupted he, -“was the first to break in upon the sixth dozen. Six -dozen, minus one, seventy-one bottles. That makes——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Seventy bottles still,” said she. “Enough to warm -your heart again for many a long day.” She stooped, -and whipped out a corkscrew from one of her capacious -pockets.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Give me that bottle, Mister Giles.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She lifted it from his grasp. He raised his hands, protesting, -quivering.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For Heaven’s sake, don’t shake it, ma’am! Don’t -shake it! It’s thirty year old, if it’s a day. Oh, Lord, -Mrs. Nutmeg, give it to me, ma’am!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She cast one swift, contemptuous glance upon him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think my wrist is steadier than yours,” she remarked -drily, while with the neatest precision she inserted -the point of the corkscrew into the middle of the seal.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“’Tis the yale,” he palpitated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, aye,” said she, “the ale, of course.” She smiled -in her sleek way while she turned the corkscrew. “Here,” -she added, “is what will steady them for a while at -any rate.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>The cork came forth with a chirp that once more -brought the fire to the toper’s eye.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ho, ho!” he cried, every crease in his face that had -before spelt despondency now wreathing rapture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Wait a bit,” she bade him, still keeping her strong -hand on the bottle neck. She dived into the left pocket -and brought forth a short cut-glass beaker. “You’re -not going,” said she, “to drink Sir David’s Comet port -out of a mug!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She poured it out, gently tilting the venerable bottle. -He could hardly wait till the gorgeous liquid garnet had -brimmed to the edge, before grasping the glass. But -palsied as his hands were not a drop did they spill. A -mouthful first, to let the taste of it lie on his palate; -another to roll round his tongue; then unctuously, as -slowly as was compatible with the act of swallowing, the -ichor of the grape destined to warm a high-born heart -and to illumine the workings of a noble mind, was sent -to kindle the base fires of Sir David’s thieving old servant.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He took a deep-drawn breath of utter satisfaction, -reached for the bottle, boldly poured himself forth another -glass and drank again. Motionless, the woman -watched.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“As good a bottle,” said he garrulously, “as ever came -out of the bin! ’Twas of the laying of the good Sir -Everard—Sir David’s grandfather, you mark, Mrs. Nutmeg. -You wasn’t in these parts then. Ah, a judge of -wine he was. I tell ye I could pick every drop he had -bottled blindfold this minute, at the first taste. He and -Master Rickart, Lord, what wild times they had together! -Ah, he was a blade in those days, was old Rickart. -Now——’Tis well there’s someone left at Bindon that -knows the valley of precious liquor, for it’s been disgusting, -I assure you, ma’am. There’s master had nothing -but the light clary—French stuff—and not known the -differ these five years! Well, well, ’twould have broken -Sir Everard’s heart, but”—piously, “there’s one left as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>remembers him and his tastes. May I offer you a thimbleful, -Mrs. Nutmeg? ’Tis as good as a cordial!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was once more the man of importance: the steward -dispensing his master’s goods with a fine air of hospitality.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, Mister Giles, I thank you kindly,” said the lady. -Then she measured him again with one of her deep looks, -marked the hand which he was stretching out for the -port and suddenly whipped the desired object from its -reach. Her calculated moment had come.—The butler’s -limbs had lost their palsied trembling and there was some -kind of speculation in his eye.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, Mister Giles,” she said, as he gaped at her. “I -came here for a little chat, if you please. You’re feeling -more yourself again?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The memory of his injuries, forgotten for the brief -span of ecstasy, returned in full force. His lip drooped.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aye, ma’am, a little, a little. But I am sadly weak.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He pushed his glass tentatively forward, but she ignored -the hint.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I thought you was a-dying by inches before my eyes,” -she announced deliberately.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The red face opposite to her grew mottled grey and -purple. Mr. Giles began to whimper:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So I was, ma’am. So I be!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery sat down and, clasping the bottle with both -her determined hands, leaned her head on one side of it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Another month of small-ale,” she said, “would bring -you to your grave, Mister Giles. Aye, you may groan. -How many bottles be left of this old port? Seventy ye -said. And there be as good besides.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The East India sherry,” said he, the light of his one -remaining interest flickering up again in the aged sockets. -“Oh, it’s a beauty, that wine is! As dry, ma’am, and -as mellow!” He smacked his tongue. “And there’s the -Madeiry, got at the Dook of Sussex’s sale. ‘Royal wine,’ -says Sir Everard to me. And Royal wine it is! But you -know the taste of it yourself. Then there are the Burgundy -bins. Women folk,” said Mr. Giles, “have that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>inferiority, they can’t appreciate red wine. But there’s -Burgundy down in my cellars that I’d rather go to bed -on a bottle of as even of the Comet port.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery broke in with a short laugh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, yes,” said she; “I’ll warrant there is good stuff -in your cellars. But who’s got the key of them now, -if I may make so bold?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Once again the toper was brought up to the sense of -present limitations as by the tug of a merciless bit -cunningly handled. With open mouth and starting eyes -he paused, and the dark, senile blood rushed up to his -face. Then he struck the table with his hand:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That vixen of old Rickart’s, blast her!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And he—the daft old gentleman,” Margery’s voice -dropped soft, as oil trickling down to fire, “eating the -bread of charity, one may say, without so much as doing -a stroke of work to save the shame of it!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Blast him!” cried Giles, with another thump.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, yes, when I brought you that bottle, I told you -there was more where it came from. But the question -is, who’s to have it, Mr. Giles! Is it all to be for that -clever young lady and her crazy old father—that’s come -like cuckoos to settle at Bindon, and bamfoozle that poor -innocent gentleman, Sir David, and oust us as has served -him so faithful and so long?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, no, no!” cried old Giles, “blast ’em, blast ’em!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery put her finger to her lip with a long drawn -“Hush!” and glanced warningly round the room, though -indeed, stronghold as it was, there was little fear of the -sound escaping to the outer world. She then poured -out a measured half glass and pushed it towards the -butler, corked the bottle, placed it on the top of the safe; -and betaking herself once again to her inexhaustible -pockets, drew forth one after another and set in their -turn upon the table a small unopened bottle of ink, a -goose quill pen, of which she tested the nib, and a large -sheet of paper, which she unfolded and smoothed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now, Mr. Giles,” said she sharply.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>He was absently sucking his empty glass and started -to look upon her preparations uncomprehendingly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You write a fine hand,” said she, picking the stopper -out of the inkpot with the point of the corkscrew.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” said he, “my cellar book was a sight to see! -It’s lain useless these six months. But so long,” he said, -proudly but sadly, “as I kept the keys no one can say -but as I kept the book.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>So he had indeed, with a quaint fidelity; and amazing -reading it would have proved to the casual inspector, -who would have founded wild opinions of Sir David’s -and his cousin’s prowesses in the matter of toping.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you want the keys back?” asked Margery, in a -quiet whisper, “or is this to be the last bottle of port -you’ll ever taste?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He stared at her, his moist lip working. She seemed -to find the answer sufficient, for she motioned him into -his seat.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then you sit down and write,” said she, “and I promise -you Bindon shall get his rights again, and our good -master’s quiet, comfortable house be rid of her that -brings no good to it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Giles sat down submissively, dipped the quill into the -ink, manipulated it with the flourish of the proud penman; -then, squaring his wrists flat on the sheet, prepared -to start.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’d never have troubled you,” explained Margery, -apologetically, “had I had your grand education, Mr. -Giles.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Who be I to write to?” said Giles, with the stern -air of the male mind controlling the female one, as it -would wander from the point.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Again Margery whispered, not for fear of listeners, -but to give the allurement of mystery to her purpose:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To the Lady Lochore,” said she.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The pen dropped from Giles’ fingers, making a great -blot at the top of the sheet, which Margery, with clacking -tongue, deftly mopped up with a corner of her apron. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>Consternation and awe wrote themselves on the butler’s -face. Faithless old ingrate as he was, robbing with remorseless -system the hand that fed him, something of -family spirit, some sense of clanship, still existed in his -muddled mind. Enough of their master’s secrets had filtered -to the household for everyone to know that his only -sister had wedded the man who, under the pretending -cloak of friendship, had done him mortal injury; and that -from the moment she had thus given herself to his enemy, -the lord of Bindon had cut her off from his life. But -there were things beside, which old Giles alone knew; -which he had kept to himself, even after his long devotion -to the Bindon cellars had wreaked havoc upon the intelligence -of his conscience.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was but ten years back when a mounted messenger -had brought the tidings to Sir David of the birth of an -heir to the house of Lochore: heir also, as matters now -stood, to the childless house of Bindon. Giles had conducted -this messenger to Sir David’s presence. Giles had -stood by and watched his master’s pale face grow death -livid as he listened to the envoy’s tale, had seen him recoil -from even the touch of his kinsman’s letter. It was Giles -who had received the curt instructions: “Take the messenger -away, give him food, rest and drink, and let him -ride and bear back to Lord Lochore that letter he has -sent me.” And now old Giles looked up into Margery’s -inscrutable face, and cried with echoes of forgotten loyalty -in his husky voice:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Write to Miss Maud?—to my Lady, I mean. Nay, -nay, Mrs. Nutmeg, I’ll not do that!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” said Mrs. Nutmeg.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had been standing over his shoulder, showing more -eagerness than her wont, and licking her lips over the -words she was about to dictate to him, while a light shone -in her eyes that was never kindled so long as she was -under observation. At the check of his words the old -sleek change came over her. The curtain of impassiveness -fell over her countenance. The gleam went out in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>her eyes. She came quietly round, sat down, opposite -him and, folding her hands, let them rest on the table -before her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” said she, “it do go again the grain, don’t it, -Mr. Giles? And if it was not for Sir David——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Giles meanwhile, having pushed the writing materials -on one side, had risen and helped himself freely again -to the Comet port, drinking courage to his own half-repented -resolution, a babble of disjointed phrases escaping -from him in the intervals of his gulps. “No, he could -not go against Sir David—poor old man, not many years -to live—served his father’s father. Eh, and Sir Edmund -had put him into these arms; and he but a babe—the -greatest toper in the house, says Sir Edmund...” -Here there was a chuckle and a tear, and a fresh glass -poured out.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery never blinked towards the bottle. Unfolding -her hands, she presently began to smooth out the writing -paper, and by-and-bye began to speak. At first it was -a merely soothing trickle of talk. No one knew Mr. -Giles’ high-mindedness and nobility of character better -than she did; though, indeed, she herself was but a new-comer -at Bindon, compared to him—the third of his generation -in the service of the house, and himself the -servant of three Cheveral masters. By-and-bye, from -this primrose path of flattery she turned aside into -less smooth ground. Something she said of the -real duties of old service, of the mistaken duty -of blind submission. There was a dark hint of Sir -David’s helplessness, a prey to designing intruders—“and -him as easy to cheat as a child!” A tear here welled to -Mistress Margery’s eyelid; there was no doubt she spoke -as one whose knowledge was first hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mister Giles knew best, of course; but, in her humble -opinion, it was an old servitor’s bounden duty to let their -master’s nearest relative know. Here Margery became -very dark again; things are so much more terrible when -merely hinted at. The butler’s hand halted with the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>sixth glass on the way to his lips; he put it down again -untasted.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Who’s to look after Master, I should like to know?” -asked Margery boldly, “when you and I and all the old -faithful folk is turned out of Bindon, and that deep young -lady and Master Rickart reign alone, with their poisons -and their powders?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“By gum!” cried Giles, with a shout, thumping the -table, so that the precious wine this time slopped over its -barrier. “By gum! hand me that paper, and say your -say, ma’am, and I’ll write it!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The man was just tipsy enough already to be easily -worked up, and unable to analyse the means by which his -passion was roused; not too tipsy to be a perfectly capable -instrument in the housekeeper’s hands.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The following was the letter that Giles, the butler of -Bindon, wrote to “the Lady Lochore,” at her house in -London:</p> - -<p class='c017'><span class='sc'>My Lady.</span>—Trusting you will excuse the liberty and in the -hopes this finds your Ladyship well, as is the humble wish of the -writer. My Lady, I have not been the servant of your Ladyship’s -brother, my most honoured master, Sir David Cheveral -of Bindon, without knowing the sad facts of family divisions between -yourself and Sir David. But, my Lady, wishing to do -my duty by my master, as has always been my humble endeavour, -I should consider myself deaf to the Voice of Conscience, -did I not take the pen this day to let you know the -state of affairs at Bindon at this present time.</p> - -<p class='c017'>Master Rickart’s daughter, Mistress Marvel, has come back to -Bindon, to live, and my Lady, she and her father is now master -and mistress here. Sir David being such as my Lady knows he -is, different from other people, is no match for such.</p> - -<p class='c017'>My Lady, what the end of it will be no one can tell. None -of us like to think of it. What is said in the village and all over -the country already, is what I must excuse myself from writing, -not being fit for your Ladyship’s eyes. But as your Ladyship’s -father’s old and trusted servant, I am doing no less than my -bounden duty, in warning your Ladyship.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>Here Margery had halted, and flouted several eager -suggestions on the part of the faithful butler, who was -anxious to mention poisons and phials and black practises, -who, moreover, had wished to introduce after every sentence -a detailed account of the unmerited cruelty practised -upon himself in forcing him to give up the keys of the -family cellar, and express his intimate persuasion of the -restlessness thereby caused to the good Sir Everard’s -bones in their honoured grave. But Margery was firm; -and now, after due reflection, sternly commanded Mr. -Giles’ respects and signature. When this flourishing signature -at length adorned the page, Margery laid a flat -finger below it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Write: Post-Scriptum,” ordered she. “I humbly -trust your Ladyship’s little son is well. There was great -joy among us when we heard of his honoured birth. We -was, up to now, all used to think of him as the heir to -Bindon.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Here she hesitated again; but finally, true to her instinct -that suggestion is more potent than explanation, demanded -the folding of the letter, its addressing and sealing. -The latter duty she undertook herself, with the help -of the inexhaustible bag. And as she laid her thumb on -the hot wax, she smiled, well content, and allowed Giles -to finish the bottle and drown any possible misgivings.</p> - -<p class='c013'>As she left the room to watch for the post-boy, and -herself place the fruit of her morning labour in the bag, -Giles, with tipsy gravity and mechanical neatness, was -posting his too long disused cellar book up to date:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>June 24th., 1823.</div> - <div class='line in6'>Comet Port. Bin V. Bottle: One.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER V<br> <span class='large'>EVIL PROMPTER, JEALOUSY</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Great bliss was with them and great happiness</div> - <div class='line'>Grew, like a lusty flower, in June’s caress.</div> - <div class='line in30'>—<span class='sc'>Keats</span> (<cite>Pot of Basil</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>July over the meadows, sweeter in death than in life, -where the long grass lay in swathes and the bared -earth split and crumbled under the fierce sun. July -in the great woods, with leaves at their deepest -green, nobly still against the noble still azure, throwing -blocks of green shade in the mossy aisles and wondrous -grey designs of leaf and branch on the hardened ground. -July in the drowsy hum of the laden bee; in the birds’ -silence and the insects’ orchestra—those undertones of -sounds—everywhere; July in the sweet hearted rose, in -the plenitude of summer fulfilment. July over garden -and cornfield and purple moor....</p> - -<p class='c012'>So it had been all day, a long, gorgeous day, busy and -yet lazy, full to the brim of nature’s slow, ripe work. And -now the evening had come; the fires of the sunset had -cooled and a deep-bosomed sky had begun to brood over -the teeming earth, lit only by the sickle of a young moon -that had hung, ghost-like, in the airs the whole afternoon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The fields of heaven were yet nearly as bare of stars -as the meadows of their murdered flowers; but here and -there, with a sudden little leap like a kindling lamp, some -distant sun—white Vega or ruddy Arcturus—began to -send its gold or silver messages across the firmament -where the summer sun of our world held lingering monarchy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had spent a long hot day in the parsonage, helping -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>that pearl of housewives, Madam Tutterville, with the -potting of cherry jam. She had come home across the -fields with lagging step, drawing in the luxury of the -evening silence, the cool fragrance of the woods, the -beauties of the advancing night. She bore, as an offering, -a handsome basketful of rectory peaches, over which -her soul was grateful: a proper dish to set before him -in whose service she took her joy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>On re-entering the house, according to her usual wont, -she at first sought her father, but found the laboratory -empty of any presence save that of the herb-spirits singing -in the throat of the retort. She made no doubt then -but that the simpler had sought the star-gazer’s high -seat.</p> - -<p class='c012'>One result of her presence at Bindon had been the -gradual drawing together of the two men, with herself -as a centring link. David was more prone to come down -from his tower and her father to come up from his vault. -And she took a sweet and secret pleasure in the quite -unconscious sense of grievance they would both display -when her duty or her mood took her for any length of -time away from either of them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As she reached the foot of the tower stairs a hand was -placed upon her arm. She turned with that irrepressible -inner revulsion which always heralded to her Margery’s -presence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Asking your pardon, ma’am,” came the usual silky -formula, “may I inquire if you are going up to see my -master?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To be sure,” answered Ellinor quietly, though she -blushed in the dark. “Do you not see that I am going -up to the tower?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, ma’am,” said Mrs. Nutmeg, humbly. “I made -so bold as to trouble you, ma’am, not wishing to intrude -upon my master myself. The postman left a letter, -ma’am.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Nutmeg drew the object in question from under -her black silk apron. Very white it shone in the gloom:—a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>large, oblong folded sheet, with a black blotch in the -centre where sprawled an enormous seal.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“This letter, ma’am,” she repeated, “came this evening. -Would you be good enough to hand it yourself to my -master?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had a superstitious feeling that Margery Nutmeg -was one day, somehow, destined to bring misfortune -upon her; and it was this perhaps which always left her -discomfited after even the most trivial interview with -the housekeeper. But determinedly shaking off the sensation, -she slipped the letter in her basket and began the -ascent of the rugged stairs. No matter how tired she -might be, her foot was always light when it led her to -the tower, because her impatient heart went on before.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Leaving the basket in the observatory, she retained the -letter in her hand, instinctively avoiding any scrutiny of -its superscription, although seen here in the lamplight the -thought did strike her that it looked like a woman’s writing. -Sir David’s correspondence, as she knew, was so -scanty that the sealed missive might indeed mean an -event in their lives; and now the present was too full of -delicate happiness for her to welcome anything that might -portend change.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stood for a moment on the threshold of the platform, -looking out on the two figures silhouetted against -the sky. Her father, as usual in his gown, seated on the -stone ledge of the parapet, was speaking. David, leaning -against the wall with folded arms, was looking down at -him. Master Simon’s chuckle, followed by the rare low -note of the star-gazer’s laughter, fell upon her ear.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I do assure you,” the old man was saying, “it was -the very surliest fellow in the whole of Bindon village. -A complete misanthropist, a perfect curmudgeon! The -poor woman would come to me in tears, with sometime a -black eye, sometime a swollen lip—I have known her -actually cut about the occiput. ‘My poor creature,’ I -would say to her, ‘plaster your wound I can, but alter -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>your husband’s humours is at present beyond my -power.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not having yet re-discovered the ‘Star-of-Comfort,’” -interrupted David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The sound of that voice, gently sarcastic and indulgently -mocking, had become so dear to Ellinor that she -lingered yet for the mere chance of indulging her ear -again unobserved.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not having then re-discovered the <em>Euphrosinum</em>,” corrected -Master Simon, with emphasis on the word “then.” -“But that excellent young woman, my daughter, has -been of service to me there.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She has been of service everywhere.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>This tribute brought joy to the listener. Forced by -the turn the conversation was taking to disclose her presence, -she emerged upon the platform, but took a seat -beside her father’s in silence, the letter for the moment -quite forgotten in her pocket.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, there is Ellinor!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David had seen her coming first and was the first -to greet her. She thought, she hoped, there was gladness -in the exclamation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Eh, eh!” said Master Simon. “Back from the -prophetess’s jam-pots?” He fondled the hand she had -laid on his knee. “Did the virtuous woman open her -mouth with wisdom, while you, my girl, girded your -loins with strength? We were talking of you, my girl. -Ah, David, did I not do well for both you and me, when -I craved house-room at Bindon for this Exception-to-her-Sex?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David did not answer. But in the gloom she felt his -eye upon her, and her heart throbbed. Master Simon, -after a little pause, resumed the thread of his discourse.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ha, I am a mass of selfishness, a mass of selfishness! -And the plant of True Grace is found; the <em>Euphrosinum</em> -is found, Sir David Cheveral. Found, planted, culled and -tested.” The utmost triumph was in his accents. “Aye, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>my dear young man, you will be rejoiced to hear that -the effects of this most precious of simples have in no -wise been overrated by the writers of old. They have -far exceeded my most sanguine expectation. Why, sir, I -said to myself: this fellow, this John Cantrip with his -evil spleen, he has been marked by destiny for the first -experiment. I prepared a decoction, making it duly -palatable (for if you will remember your natural history, -even bears like honey), I bade the poor, much-tried wife—he -had just deprived her of both her front teeth—place -a spoonful daily in his morning draught. That was a -week ago. She came here this morning ... you -will hardly credit it——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The speaker paused, became absorbed in a delightful -memory and began to laugh softly to himself. And the -infection again gained the listener.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, sir, has the bear turned to lamb? And is the -dame content with the metamorphosis?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You will hardly credit it,” repeated the simpler, -rubbing his hands, “the silly woman was beside herself -with the most intemperate passion. There was no sort -of abuse she did not heap upon me. She swears I have -bewitched her husband and that she will have the law -of me. He, he! You must know, David, the fellow is a -carpenter; and, although his tempers were objectionable, -he was a good worker. Indeed, I gather that the exasperated -condition of his system found relief in the constant -hammering of nails, punching of holes, sawing and -planing of hard substance. But now——” Again delighted -chuckle and mental review took the place of -speech.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well?” asked Sir David. His tone was broken with -an undercurrent of laughter. Ellinor smiled in her dark -corner. She compared this David, interested and amused -in human matters, pleasant of intercourse himself and -appreciative of another’s company, to the man of taciturn -moods and melancholy, who fed on his own morbid -thought and fled from his fellow men—to the David of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>but a few months ago. She knew it was her woman’s -presence that had, as if unconsciously, wrought the -change.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well?” said Sir David again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear fellow,” cried Master Simon, breaking into -a louder cackle. “John Cantrip, as you say, has changed -from a bear into a lamb; at least from a sullen, dangerous -animal into an exceedingly pleasant, light-hearted one. -He sings, he whistles, he laughs—all that cerebral congestion, -that nervous irritation, has been soothed away -under the balmy influence of this valuable plant. The -excellent creature is able to take delight in his life, in -the beautiful objects of Nature around him. He admires -the blue sky, he rejoices in the seasonable heat, he embraces -his spouse—he will hang over his infant’s cradle -and express a tender, paternal desire to rock him to -slumber. Every happy instinct has been wakened, every -morose one lulled. Would I could induce the government -of this land to enforce in each parish the cultivation -of <em>Euphrosinum</em>. My good sir, we should have no more -need of prisons, or stocks, or gallows!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And yet you say,” quoth David, “that Mrs. Cantrip -is dissatisfied.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Most excellent David, from early days of the earth -downwards, the woman was ever the most unreasonable -of all God’s creatures. She wants the impossible, she -wants the perfection of things, which is not of this world. -Instead of rejoicing, this foolish person complains.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Complains?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, well, it seems the carpenter is now disinclined for -work. I endeavoured to explain to her that the morbid -reason for his love of hammering no longer exists. The -good fellow is placid and content and an agreeable companion. -But the absurd female is tearing her hair! -‘What,’ said I, ‘he has not struck you once since Saturday -week, and you do not rejoice?’ ‘Rejoice!’ she -screams. ‘And he’s not struck a nail either.’ ‘If this -happy effect continues,’ I assured her, ‘you will be able -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>to keep the remainder of your teeth.’ ‘I’ll have nothing -to put between them if it does,’ she responds. In vain -I represented to her, <i><span lang="la">mulier</span></i>—in short, that I, having done -my part, it was now hers to utilise these new dispositions -for her own ends. She must beguile him back to his -everyday duties with tender smiles and womanly wiles—the -female’s place in nature being to play this part towards -the ruder male. But it was absolutely impossible -to get her so much as to listen to me! She vowed that -she had lost all patience—which was indeed very patent—that -she had even clouted him (as she expressed it), -without producing any other result than a smile at her. -‘Grins,’ says she, ‘like a zany!’ and with the want of -logic of her sex, utterly fails to perceive what a triumphant -attestation she is making to the efficacy of my plant.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is extremely droll,” said David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Of course it will at once strike you,” pursued the old -student, “that the obvious course was to induce the dissatisfied -lady to partake of the soothing lotion herself. -But, would you believe it? She became more violently -abusive than ever at the bare suggestion!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed,” said Ellinor, interrupting, “not only did she -decline to make any acquaintance herself with the remedy, -but she brought back the jar, with all that was left of our -infusion, and vowed that she was well punished for dealing -with the Devil and his daughter. You know, cousin -David, I fear that I am rapidly gaining something of a -reputation for black art! I do not mind, of course. Only,” -she faltered a little, “a child ran from me in the village -this morning. I was sorry for that.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David’s face grew scornful. Popularity was so poor a -thing in his eyes, that popular hate was not, he deemed, -worth even a passing thought. But Ellinor, who could -not look upon the world from a tower and whose self-allotted -tasks lay, of necessity, much among the humble -many, had not this lofty indifference. She knew she had -already more enemies than friends. And she knew also to -what she owed the sowing of this hostility—not to her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>association with her father, whose eccentric experiments -in pharmacy on the whole worked to the benefit, and gave -an extraordinary zest to the lives, of the village community—not -to Madam Tutterville’s texts; for, indeed, -that good lady was so subjugated by her niece’s housekeeperly -qualifications that she elected for the nonce to -be blind to the daughter’s abetting of the father’s pursuits. -Well did Ellinor know to whom it was she owed -her growing ill-repute.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Yet the cloud in her sky, no bigger at first than a -woman’s hand, was growing, she felt, and was sufficient -already to cast a shadow. And now, as she sat in such -perfect content this summer night between her father -and her cousin, her duty and her love, and felt herself a -centre of peace and harmony, the mere passing remembrance -of Margery sufficed to make her heart contract.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With the thought of Margery, the recollection of her -commission leaped up in her mind. She laid the letter -on her knee, gazing down at its whiteness a moment or -two before she could overcome her extraordinary repugnance -to deliver it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Meanwhile Master Simon was flowing happily on again, -quite oblivious of the fact that neither David, whose gaze -had once more turned starward, nor his daughter, absorbed -in inner reflection, were paying the least heed -to his discourse.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Naturally, poor Cantrip will relapse. And he will -hammer wife and nails once more, and as energetically as -ever. But this is immaterial. The principle, my good -young people, you are both intelligent enough to see -at once, is firmly established. In another year the face -of Bindon will have changed. Beldam will scold no -more nor maiden mope. You yourself, David—we should -have no more of these heavy sighs, if——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Here Ellinor broke in, rising and holding out the letter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cousin David, I quite forgot—the post brought this -for you and I promised to give it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A letter,” said Sir David. He took it from her hand -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>and placed it on the stone parapet. “It is too dark to -read it now.” She fancied his voice was troubled, and -immediately there grew upon her an inexplicable jealous -desire that the letter should be opened in her presence, -that she might gain some hint of its contents.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will bring out a light,” she said and flew upon her -errand, returning presently with a little silver lantern -from the observatory. She placed it on the ledge; and -from the three glass sides its light threw cross shaped -beams, one uselessly into the dark space, one upon the -rough stone and the letter, one upon her own bending -face, pale and eager, with aureole of disordered hair.</p> - -<p class='c012'>From the darkness Sir David looked at her face first: -and it was as if the revealing light had shot into the mists -of his own heart.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The passion of love comes to men from so many different -paths that to each individual it may be said to -come in a new guise. To no one does it come as an -invited guest. It may be the chance meeting, the love -at first sight—“she never loved at all who loved not at -first sight.” But Shakespeare knew better than to advance -this as an axiom. ’Tis but the insolent phrase on -the lover’s mouth who deems his own passion the only -true one, the model for the world. Some, on the other -hand, find with amazement that long, long already, in -some sweet and familiar shape, love has been with them -and they knew it not. They have entertained an angel -unawares; and suddenly, it may be on a trivial occasion, -the veil has been lifted and the heavenly countenance revealed. -Others, like the poor man in the fable, take -the treacherous thing to the warmth of their bosom in all -trustfulness and only by the sting of it as it uncoils -know that they have been struck to the heart. Others, -again, as unfortunate, bolt their inhospitable doors upon -the wayfarer and perhaps, as they sit by a lonely hearth, -never know that it was love that knocked and went its -way, to pass the desolate house no more.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>To Sir David Cheveral, whose hot and hopeful youth -had been betrayed by life, this sudden apprehension of -love in his set manhood came, not in sweetness nor yet -in pain, but in a bewildering upheaval of all things -ordered—as an earthquake flinging up new heights and -baring unknown depths in the staid familiar landscape; -as a flash of light—“the light that never was on sea or -land,” after which nothing ever could look the same -again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It may, in one sense, be true that the man of pleasure -is an easier prey to his feelings than he who in asceticism -spends his days feeding the spirit at the expense of the -flesh; but it is true only because the former man is weak, -not because his passion is strong. By so much as the -deep river that has been driven to course between its own -silent banks is more mighty than the shallow waters that -expand themselves in a hundred noisy channels, by so -much is the passion of the recluse a thing more irresistible, -more terrible to reckon with than the bubble obsession of -the self indulgent.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But he who outrages Nature by excess in other direction, -by Nature herself is punished. The recluse of Bindon -was now to grapple with the avenging strength of -his denied manhood. By the leaping of his blood and -the tremor of his being, by the joy of his heart, which his -instinctive sudden resistance turned into as fierce an -anguish, by the heat that rushed to his brow, he knew -at last that love was upon him; and he knew that, were -he to resist love in obedience to so many unspoken vows, -victory would be more bitter than death.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As he looked with a haggard eye at the lovely transfigured -face, it was suddenly lost in the shadows again; -only a hand flashed forth into the light and this hand -held a letter, persisting. He passed his fingers over his -eyes and brushed the damp masses of hair from his forehead.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Will you not read your letter, cousin David?” asked -Ellinor.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>Mechanically he took the paper held out towards him. -She lifted the lantern, that its light might serve him: it -trembled a little in her grasp. And now his glance -dropped upon the seal. He stared, started, turned the -letter over and stared again. Then his warm emotion -fell from him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You,” said he, “you to bring me this!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She bent forward, the pale oval of her face coming -within the radius of the light again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have no wish to read this letter,” he went on.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a deep, a contained emotion in his air. All -was fuel to Ellinor’s suddenly risen unreasoning flame of -jealousy. That he should take the letter into his solitude, -maybe, that she should not know, never know—it was -not to be borne!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Read, read!” she cried, unconsciously imperative by -right of her passion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Their gaze met. His was gloomy and startled, then -suddenly became ardent. She saw such a flame leap -into his eyes that her own fell before them; then her -bold heart sank.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I would not have opened it. But it shall be as you -wish,” he answered. And as David broke the seal, -Master Simon’s curious, wrinkled face peered over his -shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ha,” said the old man, wonderingly, “The Lochore -arms.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David turned the letter in his hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“From your sister?” asked the simpler, with amazed -emphasis.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Once I called her so,” answered the astronomer, with -an effort that told of his inner repugnance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As one wakes from a fevered dream Ellinor awoke -from her brief madness. Her father’s placid tones, the -everyday obvious explanation fell upon her heart like -drops of cold water. But the reaction was scarcely one -of relief. How was it possible that she, Ellinor Marvel, -the woman of many experiences, of the cool brain and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>strong heart, should have yielded to this degrading folly, -this futile jealousy? What had she done! She shivered -as a rapid sequence of thought forced its logic upon her -unwilling mind. She had feared that the touch of some -woman out of his past should reach David now, at the -very moment when a lover’s heart was opening to her in -his bosom. Behold! she had herself delivered him over -to the one woman of all others she had most reason to -dread—the woman who, out of her own outrage upon -him had acquired the most influence over his life. It -seemed to Ellinor as if she herself who had so laboured -to call him to the present and lure him with hopes of -a brighter future, had now handed him back to the slavery -of the past.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The seal cracked under his fingers.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, no,” she cried, now springing forward on the -new impulse. “No, no, David, do not read it! Send it -back, like the others!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He flung on her a single glance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is too late,” he said, “the seal is broken.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, me,” cried Ellinor. “And we were so happy!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She remembered Margery’s sleek face as it had peered -at her in the shadows of the passage: “Will you be -good enough to hand this letter yourself to my master?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery had known that from her hand he would take -it. Margery had a devil’s instinct of the folly of men -and women.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VI<br> <span class='large'>THE PERFECT ROSE, DROOPING</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Such is the fond illusion of my heart,</div> - <div class='line'>Such pictures would I at that time have made;</div> - <div class='line'>And seen the soul of truth in every part,</div> - <div class='line'>A steadfast peace that might not be betrayed.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line c002'>So once it would have been—’tis so no more:</div> - <div class='line'>I have submitted to a new control,</div> - <div class='line'>A power is gone which nothing can restore....</div> - <div class='line in24'>—<span class='sc'>Wordsworth</span> (<cite>Elegiacs</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Sir David sat down upon the parapet, shifted the -lantern and began to read. Ellinor watched him, -the tumultuous beating of her heart gradually -sinking down to a dull languor. Master Simon was pacing -the platform, now conning over some chemical formula -to himself, now pausing to gaze upon the stars with -a good humoured sneer upon the futility of astronomy in -general and the absurdity of Sir David’s in particular. -A bat came and flapped with noiseless wings round the -lantern and was lost again in the darkness of the surrounding -deeps. It seemed to Ellinor a heavy space of -time, and still David sat with a contracted brow, motionless, -staring at the open sheet in his hand. At length he -raised his head. His eyes sought, not herself, but the -comrade of his long years of solitude.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cousin Simon!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The old man turned in his walk, a fantastic figure in -his flapping skirts as he shuffled forward out of the gloom. -Evidently he had perceived a note of urgency in Sir -David’s tone, for he came quickly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, lad!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>Ellinor had not yet heard that inflection of solicitude -in her father’s voice, but she recognised that it belonged -also to that past they all dreaded; and for the first -time she realised something of the ties that bound these -unlikely companions to each other.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cousin Simon,” said David with stiff lips, “she asks -me to receive her here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Who? Maud?—What! the heathen vixen! Don’t -answer her, don’t answer her!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David looked up. There was the stamp of pain -upon his features; and yet, as she told herself, it was -not so much pain as the loathing of one forced to contemplate -something of utter abhorrence. Both men, she -saw, were quite oblivious of her presence: the past was -now stronger about them than the present. As Sir -David made no answer beyond that dumb look, Master -Simon grew yet more vehement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pshaw! man, you’re not going to give way now after -all these years! The thing’s irreparable between you. -Why, David, what are you thinking of? How could -you bear it? Think for a moment what her presence -here would mean!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then Sir David spoke:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is not,” he said, “a question now, of my wishes. -So long as I felt justified in considering myself alone, I -had no hesitation. But to-night I have to face this: -What is my duty?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Eh? How, now!” Master Simon stuttered, and -could find no word. “Pooh! fudge!” He thrust out -a testy hand for the letter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Read!” said the master of Bindon, “and then you -will understand.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon seized the document and, stooping to the -light began to read the words aloud to himself, according -to his custom. Ellinor drew near and listened. Nothing -could have now kept her from yielding to her intense -desire to know.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Dear Brother,’” read the old gentleman (“Dear -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>Brother!—A dear sister she’s proved to you!”) “‘It -is very likely you may never read these lines’ (if that isn’t -a woman all over! ... where am I?) ‘according -to your heartless custom’—(Ha!” said Master Simon, -shooting a swift ironical look at Sir David from under -his ever-hanging eyebrows, “since when has Lady Lochore -become qualified to pronounce upon heartlessness? -Pooh!”)</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David made no reply. His eyes were fixed on -some inward visions. The simpler gave a snort, and -resumed his reading:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Oh, David, let me see my home once more!’ (No, -Madam!) ‘Let me come to you alone with my child. -I am ill——’ (Devil doubt her—they’re all ill when they -don’t get their way!) ‘I am ill, dying, and sometimes I -think that it is because you have not forgiven me. In -the name of our father, in the name of our mother,’ -(’pon my word, she’s a clever one!) ‘I have a right to -demand this! I must see my home before I die.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David’s compressed lips suddenly worked. He rose -and walked across to the other side of the platform, -where against the lambent sky, his form once more became -a mere silhouette. Master Simon proceeded quietly -to finish the letter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There’s a postscript,” he said, and read out: “‘You -cannot refuse me the hospitality of Bindon for a few -weeks, remember that I, too, am a child of the house.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Remember that I, too, am a child of the house!’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor repeated the words drearily to herself. That -was the key she herself had found to unlock the door of -Sir David’s hospitality.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Upon my soul,” said Master Simon, “I shall never -fall foul of the female intellect again!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He looked at Ellinor, and laughed drily.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” she cried, shocked at this inopportune mirth, -“she must not come here—we must prevent it!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Prevent it!” he cried irritably. “Do so, if you can, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>my girl. By the Lord Harry!” the forgotten expletive -of his jaunty youth leaped oddly forth over his white -beard, “she’s done the trick! Touch David upon his -honour, his family obligations! Ha! she knows it too. -A pest on you!” he went on, his anger rising suddenly, -“with your silly female inquisitiveness. ‘Read it, read -it!’ quoth she. Without you, Mrs. Marvel, he’d have -sent the precious missive back—unopened, like all the -others! Ha, that’s an astute one! ‘If you read these -lines,’ she writes. Well she knew that if he once did read -them she would win her game!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Beneath an impatient stamp one slipper fell off. -Thrusting his foot back into it, he began to hobble in -the direction of Sir David, muttering and growling as he -went, not unlike his own Belphegor when his cat-dignity -had been grievously offended. Disjointed scraps of his -remarks reached Ellinor, as she stood, disconsolate and -cold at heart, facing the probable results of her impulse:—“A -pretty thing ... disturbing the peace of the -house ... a mass of selfishness ... a pack -of silly women!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well,” said Sir David, turning round as his cousin -drew near.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why do you say ‘well’?” snapped the simpler. -“You know you’ve made up your mind already, and need -none of my advice.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A bitter smile flickered over Sir David’s face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Can you say after reading that letter that there is -any other course open to me?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Stuff and nonsense! A half-dozen excellent courses. -You can leave the letter unanswered. You can write to -the lady that these home affections come a little late in -the day. You can write, if you like, and forgive her by -post. You can take coach to London and forgive -her there, and.... But, in Heaven’s name, stem -the stream of petticoats from invading our peace -here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>“What,” exclaimed the younger man, a blackness as -of thunder gathering on his brow. “Do you, do you, -cousin Simon, bid me enter Lochore’s house!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Disconcerted, Master Simon lost his ill humour, though -to conceal the fact he still tried to bluster.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pooh! You’re not of this century. You’re mediæval, -quixotic! David, man, high feelings are not worn nowadays. -They have been put by, with knighthood’s armour. -Don’t forgive her then, lad. I am sure I see no reason -why you should.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Forgiveness!” echoed Sir David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had crept close to them once more. That bitter -ring in David’s voice smote her heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Forgiveness!” he repeated. “Does he who remembers -ever forgive? My sister is ill and craves to return -to her old home. Well, I recognise her right to its hospitality -and also to my courtesy as the dispenser of it. -More I cannot give her.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She’ll not ask for more!” interrupted the unconvinced -simpler. “Eh, eh! It is my fault, David: I might -have known how it would be. I brought in the first petticoat -and there the mischief began.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, father!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The tears sprang to Ellinor’s eyes. Sir David turned -round and seemed to become again aware of her presence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, no,” he said, “that is ungrateful.” He took -her hand. “She brought us sunshine,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But she missed from his pressure the tremulous touch -of passion; she missed from his eyes that flame she had -shrunk from and that now her heart would always -hunger for. Pure kindness, mild sadness—what could -her enkindled soul make now of such gifts as these? -With an inarticulate sound she drew her fingers from his -clasp; and, turning, fled downstairs again and back to -her room.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A taper was burning on her writing table, and in its -small meek circle of light a bowl of monthly roses displayed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>their innocent pink beauty. The latticed casement -was thrown open. In the square of sky a single silver -star pointed the illimitable distance. From the Herb-Garden -below rose gushes of aromatic airs, as, from some -secret cloister by night the voices of the dedicated rise -and fall. Vaguely, in her seething misery, she seemed to -recognise the special essence of the new plant giving to -the cool night the sweetness accumulated during the long, -hot hours of the day.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She sat down on the narrow bed, folded her hands on -her lap and stared dully forth at the square of sky and the -single star. Presently, almost without her own consciousness, -her bosom began to heave with long sighs and tears -to course down her cheeks. Where was now the strength, -the indifference to passing events which she boasted her -long battle with life had given her? Gone, gone at the -first touch of passion! Throughout a sordid marriage -she had remained virgin of heart, she had kept the virgin’s -peace—and now?</p> - -<p class='c012'>Alternations of pride and despair broke over her like -waves, salt and bitter as her own tears. How happy they -had been! And the unknown fiend, jealousy, had urged -her to break the still current of that sweet, restful half-unwitting -happiness of their life all three together—a current -flowing, she had told herself with conviction, to a -full tide of unimaginable bliss.</p> - -<p class='c012'>My God, how he had looked at her only that night! -And it was in that pearl of moments that she had thrust -his past back upon him and bade him, with her precious, -new-found power, read the letter that should never have -been opened. The perfect rose had been within her grasp. -It was her own hand that had flung it in the dust.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Master Simon, still shaking his head and muttering -disapproval, went slowly back to his laboratory.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The cunning jade!” he was grumbling, “she’s no -more ill than I am. Or if she be, a pretty business we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>shall have with her—a fine lady with vapours, and megrims, -and tantrums! I’ve not forgotten the ways of -them...!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But here an illuminating idea flashed upon his brain. -He stopped at the corner of a passage, cocking his head -like an old grey jackdaw. “Eh, but a fine lady in her -tantrums.... What a test for the virtues of my -paragon herb!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>All very well to rejoice at its efficacy upon the homely -rustic. Master Simon had experimented upon the homely -rustic too many years not to have developed a fine contempt -for his vile corpus; he was too true an enthusiast -not to long for something like a proper nervous system -upon which to work.</p> - -<p class='c012'>An air of returning good humour now settled upon -his face; and by the time he was seated at his table, he -had begun to wish his unwelcome cousin really a prey -to the most advanced melancholia, and was conning over -what phrases he could remember of her letter—delighted -when they seemed to point to that conclusion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And even if she be not pining away for sorrow, as -she would like poor David to believe, if I remember the -lady aright, she has as disordered a temper of her own -as John Cantrip himself.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VII<br> <span class='large'>NODS AND WREATHÉD SMILES</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>... Half light, half shade,</div> - <div class='line'>She stood, a sight to make an old man young.</div> - <div class='line in16'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Gardener’s Daughter</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Within Bindon house the next ten days were as -uneventful as those that had preceded this -night of emotional trouble; days similar in -routine, in outward tranquillity. But how unlike in -colour, in atmosphere! It was as if thunder-clouds had -chased all the summer peace; as if brooding skies had -taken the place of radiance and laughing blue; as if -close mists enshrouded the earth, robbing the woods of -living light and shade, dulling the tints of flower and -turf, contracting the horizon. The former days had been -days of many-hued hope; these now were days of drab -suspense. And ever and anon, in the listening stillness, -there came upon Ellinor’s inner senses, as from behind -hiding hills, the far-off mutter of a gathering storm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But in the outer world the summer still kept its glory, -the sky its undisturbed azure, the flowers their jewel hues. -Never had Bindon looked fairer, more nobly itself. -Preparations went on apace for the reception of the -visitor. Ellinor personally saw to every detail—she -piqued herself that no one could reproach her with not -carrying out to the finest line of conscientiousness her -duties as housekeeper of Sir David’s home. A little paler, -a little colder, more silently and with just a note of sternness, -she moved about her tasks. Nothing was made easy -for her: the household, scenting a possible change, became -more openly inclined to mutiny.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>Master Simon, also, seemed to become more exacting -in his demands upon her time. Sir David, on the other -hand, had withdrawn almost as completely as had been -his wont before her arrival. And her woman’s pride and -tact alike kept her from those raids upon his tower -privacy, which but a little time ago had caused him so -much pleasure, it seemed, and herself such infinite sweetness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was hard, too, to have to meet Margery’s paroxysm -of astonishment; Margery’s ostentatious outburst of joy -at the thought of “her dear young lady coming back -to her rightful place at last”; Margery’s insolence of -triumph as regarded “the interloper,” astutely conveyed -in such humble garments that to notice it would have -been but a crowning humiliation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Eh, to think, ma’am,” the ex-housekeeper would say -in her innocent voice, “that it should have been that very -letter I handed you myself, never dreaming, that’s brought -this blessed reconciliation about! It do seem like the -finger of the Lord. Ah, ma’am, but you must be glad -in your heart, to feel yourself the instrument of peace. -Who knows, if the master would have taken it from any -hand but yours, he that used to return them as regular -and just as fast as they came!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And then came parson and Madam Tutterville: he, as -beseemed the God-chosen and state-appointed minister of -the gospel of charity, most duly (and unconvincingly) -approving the proposed reconciliation; and, as man of the -world, most humanly and convincingly dubious of its results: -she, openly bewailing, with all her store of texts -and feminine logic, so inconvenient a hitch in her secret -plans.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had to receive them both. For the lower door -of Sir David’s turret stairs was bolted, and Master Simon -on his side had stoutly refused any manner of interview -with anyone so sturdily healthy as the rector, or so disdainful -of his remedies as the rector’s lady.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Under every law,” said Doctor Tutterville, “the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>Jewish, the Pagan, the Philosophic and the Christian in -its many variations, it has been enjoined upon our human -weakness that it is advisable to forgive: <i><span lang="la">Æquum est -peccatis veniam poscentem reddere rursus</span></i>.</p> - -<p class='c012'>So the rector, acknowledging his share of frailty—a -share so pleasant to himself and so inoffensive to others -that it was no wonder he showed little desire to repudiate -it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“One may forgive,” said Madam Tutterville sententiously. -“Heaven knows I should be the last to deny -that!”—this with the air of making a valuable concession -to the decrees of Providence—“But there is another -law: that chastisement shall follow misdoing. Was -not David punished through Jonathan’s hair?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson’s waistcoat rippled over his gentle laughter. -He was seated in one of the deep-winged library armchairs, -and while he spoke his eyes roamed with ever -renewed satisfaction over the appointments of the room—the -silver bowl of roses, fresh filled, the artistic neatness -of writing table, the high polish of oak and gilt -leather. His fine appreciation for the fitness of things was -tickled; his glance finally rested with complacency upon -the figure of the young woman herself—the capable young -woman who had wrought so many pleasing changes. And -as he looked he smiled: Ellinor was the culminating -point of agreeable contemplation amid exceedingly agreeable -surroundings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She toned in so well with the scene! The sober golds -and russets of the walls repeated their highest note in -her burnished hair. Her outline, as she sat, exactly corresponded -to the rector’s theory of what the female line -of beauty should be. He liked the close, fine texture of -her skin and the hues upon her cheeks, which fluctuated -from geranium-white to glorious rose. The proud curl -of her lip appealed to him; so did the sudden dimple. He -liked the direct gaze of her honest blue eyes, and he -was not unaware of the thickness and length of eyelashes -that seemed to have little points of fire on their tips.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>That scholarly gentleman’s admiration was of so lofty, -so philosophic a nature, that even his Sophia could have -found no fault with it. But as he yielded himself to it, -the conviction was ever more strongly borne in upon -him that his wife, in her impetuosity, had reached to a -juster conclusion concerning Ellinor than he in his own -ripe wisdom. He had treated her repeated remark that -“Here was just the wife for David, here the proper mistress -of Bindon,” with his usual good-natured contempt. -But to-day he saw Ellinor with new eyes. Yes, this was -a gem worthy of Bindon setting. This would be a noble -wife for any man; an ideal one for David—for fastidious -David, to whom the old epicure felt especially drawn, -although he recognised that one may make of fastidiousness -a fine art and not push the cult to the point of David’s -eccentricity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Here, then, was a woman fair enough to bring the Star-Dreamer, -the soaring idealist back to earth; wholesomely -human enough to keep him there in sanity and content, -once Love had clipped his wing.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Meanwhile Madam Tutterville was bringing a long dissertation -to an end. In it, by the help of the scriptures, -old and new, she had proved that while it was indubitably -David’s duty to forgive his sister up to a certain point, -it was likewise indubitably incumbent upon him to continue -to keep her in wholesome remembrance of her -offences by excluding her from Bindon, until——. Here -the lady became exceedingly mysterious and addressed -herself with nods and becks solely to her husband, ignoring -Ellinor’s presence, much after the fashion of nurses -over the heads of their charges.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“At least until that happy consummation of affairs, -Horatio, which you and I have so much discussed.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Ellinor,” she pursued, turning blandly to her -niece, who with a suddenly scarlet face was trying in -vain to look as if she had not understood, “be guided -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>by my advice, by my advice. It is extremely desirable, -I might say imperative, that things should remain at -present at Bindon House in what your good uncle would -term the state of quo, a Greek word, my dear, signifying -that it is best to leave well alone.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What is it you would have me do?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, my dear, seeing that everything has been going -on so nicely these months, and that Bindon has become -no longer like a family lunatic asylum, but quite a respectable, -clean house, and that Nutmeg thing reduced -to proper order, and David almost human, coming down -to meals just as if he were in his right mind (though -I’ve given up your father, my dear), I’m afraid that -in his case that clear cohesion of intellect which is so -necessary (is it not, Horatio?) is irrevocably affected.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She tapped her forehead and shook her head, murmured -something about the instance of John Cantrip, hesitated -for a moment, as if on the point of gliding off in -another direction, but saved herself with a heroic jerk.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I would be glad,” she went on, “to have had speech -of David myself; but since you tell me that is impossible, -Ellinor, I must be content with laying my injunctions -upon you. And indeed (is it not so, Horatio?) you are -perhaps the most fitted for this delicate task. The voice -of the turtle, my dear, is more likely to reach his heart -than the dictates of wisdom.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The voice of the turtle, aunt?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, my dear,” said Madam Tutterville, putting her -head on one side with a languishing air. “In the beautiful -imagery of Solomon the turtle—the bird, my love, -not the shell-fish—is always brought forward as the -emblem of female devotion.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I don’t see how that can refer to me!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor sprang to her feet as she spoke: the rector’s -gurgle of amusement was the last straw to her patience. -Angry humiliation dyed her face, her blue eyes shot -flames.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, don’t explain, I can’t bear it! But please, dear -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>aunt, please, don’t call me a turtle again! It’s the last -thing I am, or want to be!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She broke, in spite of herself, into laughter; laughter -with a lump in her throat.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Parson Tutterville had been highly entertained. Mrs. -Marvel was quite as agreeable to watch in wrath as in -repose. But he was a man of feeling.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think, Sophia,” he said, in the tone she never resisted, -“we will pursue the subject no further. However -we may regret any interruption to the present satisfactory -state of affairs, regret for David a visit that is -likely to prove distressing, we cannot but agree with -Mrs. Marvel that it is not her place to interfere.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He rose as he spoke. The morning visit was at an -end.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Even an encounter with Mrs. Nutmeg could not have -left Ellinor in a more irritated condition.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What do they all think of me?” she asked herself, -and pride forbade her to shed a single one of the hot -tears that rose to her lids.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What have I done?” was the question that next -forced itself upon a mind that was singularly truthful. -She had placed herself indeed in a position open to comment -and misinterpretation. And then and there she had -given herself up so wholly, so unrestrainedly to love that -she had actually come to measure the strength of her -attraction for her unconsenting lover against the strength, -or the weakness, of his will.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As she faced the thought, a sense of shame overcame -her. Had she not known how helpless both her father -and David would be without her, especially at this juncture, -she would have been sorely tempted to be gone as -she had come. It was not in her nature to contemplate -anything ungenerous, even for the gratification of that -strongest of passions in woman, self respect. But in her -present mood, even the rector’s well-meant, kindly words -recurred to sting—“It was not her place to interfere!” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>Well, she would keep her place, as David’s servant, and -not presume again beyond her duty!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Yes, and she would take that other place, too—the -woman’s place, the queen’s place, not to be won without -being wooed. If David wanted her now he must seek -her!</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VIII<br> <span class='large'>A GREY GOWN AND RED ROSES</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>And then we met in wrath and wrong.</div> - <div class='line'>We met, but only meant to part.</div> - <div class='line'>Full cold my greeting was and dry;</div> - <div class='line'>She faintly smiled ...</div> - <div class='line in20'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>The Letters</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Fain would Ellinor have avoided being present at -the reception of the guests. But Sir David -willed it otherwise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Bearing an armful of roses, she met him on the morning -of the arrival at the foot of the great stairs. She -had scarcely seen him since the night on the tower; and -hurt to her heart’s core, as only a woman can be, by -his seeming avoidance of her, she faced him with a front -as cold, a manner as courteously reserved as his own. -For it was a different David from any she had hitherto -known that now emerged from many days’ seclusion and -soul struggle.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What, ’tis you, cousin Ellinor!” He took her hand -and ceremoniously kissed it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a tone of artificiality about his words. This -perfunctory touch of his lips on her hand, this formal -bow, all these things belonged to that past of the lord of -Bindon, when society knew and petted him; and in that -past Ellinor felt with fresh acuteness that she had no part. -She drew her hand away.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I hope,” she said, “the arrangements may be to your -liking.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He glanced at her as if puzzled; then his eye travelled -over her figure—an exquisite model of neatness she always -was, but in this, her working gown, no more -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>fashionably clad than dairy Moll or Sue. He took up a -fold of her sleeve between his first and second finger.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My sister used to be a very fine lady,” said he gently.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And I am none,” cried Ellinor, flushing. Then, -gathering the roses into her arms and moving away: -“But it matters the less,” she added over her shoulder, -“as Lady Lochore and I are not likely to come much -across each other.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But David, this new David, a painful enigma to her, -touched her detainingly on the shoulder; and in his touch -was authority.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“On the contrary,” said he, “I beg you will see much -of my sister. Dispenser as you are of my hospitality, you -must needs see much of her.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The flush had faded. Proud and pale she looked at -him long, but his face was as a sealed page to her. What -was this turn of fortune’s wheel bringing, glory or abasement?</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I must keep my place,” insisted Ellinor.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That will be your place,” he answered. “Pray be -ready to receive my guests with me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She raised her eyes, startled, indeterminate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I and my frocks are poor company for great ladies,” -she said with a scornful dimple.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At that he smiled as one smiles upon a child.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You have a certain grey gown,” he said. And, after -a little pause, he added: “Some of those roses.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The fragrance of them had come over to him as they -moved with her breath. Once more she hesitated for a -second, then dropping her eyelids, she said, with mock -humility:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It shall be as you order,” and went up the stairs -with head erect and steady step, feeling that his gaze -was following her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She could hardly have explained to herself why this -attitude of David’s, this sudden proof of his strength in -forcing himself to become like other people, should cause -her so much resentment and so much pain. But she felt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>that this man of the world was infinitely far removed -from the absent star-gazer, from the neglected recluse -who had so needed her ministrations. The <i><span lang="fr">rôles</span></i> seemed -reversed. It was no longer she who was the protector, -the power directing events, no longer she who ruled by -right of wisdom and sweet common sense. David had -become independent of her. Hardest thing of all, to be -no longer indispensable to him! And yet even in this -unexpected cup of bitterness there was a redeeming -sweet: he had remembered her grey gown, he had noticed -that the roses became her.</p> - -<p class='c013'>My Lady Lochore arrived towards that falling hour of -the day when the shadows are growing long and soft, when -the slanting light is amber: it might be called the coloured -hour, for the sun begins to veil its splendour, so that -eyes, undazzled, may rejoice. The swallows were dipping -across the sward of golden-emerald and Bindon stood -proudly golden-grey in the light, silver-grey in the -shadows and against the blue.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This daughter of the house came back to it with a fine -clatter of horses and a blasting of post horns; followed -by a retinue of valets and maids; acclaimed along the -village street by shouting children, while aged gaffers -and gammers bobbed on their cottage door-steps and -showered interested blessings. (Margery had prepared -that ground in good time.) She was welcomed in stately -fashion by the chief servants and the master of the house -himself on the threshold of her old home.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor, half hidden behind the statue of Diana and its -spreading green, watched the scene, waiting for her own -moment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>How different had been, she thought to herself, the -return of poor Ellinor Marvel, that other daughter of -Bindon, upon the cold September night, solitary, travel-worn, -penniless, knocking in vain at the door her forefathers -had built, creeping round back ways like a beggar, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>with the bats circling by her in the darkness and the -watchdog growling at her from his kennel; unbidden, -entering her old house, unwelcomed.—Unwelcomed? -Was cousin Maud welcomed?</p> - -<p class='c012'>In her rustling thin silk spencer and her fluttering -muslin, with hectic, handsome face, looking anxiously out -from under the wide befeathered bonnet, Lady Lochore -advanced her thin sandalled foot on the step of the coach -and rested her hand upon David’s extended arm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This was their meeting after years of estrangement! -For a second she wavered, made a movement as if -she would fling herself into her brother’s arms; the -ribbons on her bosom fluttered—was it with a heaving -sob? She glanced up at David’s severe countenance and -suddenly stiffened herself. He bent and brushed the -gloved wrist with his lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sister, Bindon greets you!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She tossed her head, and her plumes shook. It seemed -to the watching Ellinor as if she would have twitched her -hand from his fingers; but he led her on. And the two -last Cheverals walked up the steps together.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The servants, Margery at their head, breathed respectful -whispers of welcome. The lady nodded haughtily and -vaguely. She stood in the hall and David dropped her -hand. His eye was cold, there was a faint sneer on -his lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Welcomed? Ah, no! Ellinor would not have exchanged -her dark night of home-coming for her cousin’s -golden ceremonious day. Ellinor had cared little at -heart—absorbed in her young freedom and her new confidence -in life—how she should be received, but the lord -of Bindon had looked into her eyes and bade her “welcome,” -and laid his lips, lips that could not lie, upon -hers.</p> - -<p class='c013'>When Ellinor emerged from behind her foliage screen, -Lady Lochore was struggling in Madam Tutterville’s -stout embrace. Sir David had summoned all his family -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>upon the scene; and—yes, actually it was her father (in -a wonderful blue anachronism of a coat) who was talking -so eagerly to the smiling rector that he seemed quite -oblivious of the purpose of his own presence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Aunt Sophia had prepared a fitting address for one -whom she had been long wont to regard (however regretfully) -as Jezebel. But, as usual, her sternness had -melted under the impulse of her warm heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My goodness, child,” she exclaimed, “you look ill -indeed!” and folded her arms about her wasted figure.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore disengaged herself unceremoniously.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Is that you, Aunt Sophy? Lord, you have grown -stout! Ill? Of course I am! And your jolting roads -are not likely to mend matters. Has the second coach -come up? Where’s Josephine? Where is my boy?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The second coach is just rounding the avenue corner,” -said Margery at her elbow, “please my lady.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore wheeled round. Her movements were -all restless and impatient, like those of a creature fevered. -“Goodness, woman, how you made me jump!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She put up her long handled eyeglasses and fixed the -simpler and the parson with a momentary interest. Her -white teeth shone in a smile soon gone. Hardly would -she answer the rector’s elegantly turned compliment; -but she vouchsafed a more flattering attention to Master -Simon, as he bowed with an antiquated, severe courtesy -that was quite his own.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“That’s cousin Simon! I remember him and all his -little watch-glasses, tubes, and things. I hope you’ve -got the little watch-glasses still, cousin. I used to like -you. You made Bindon rather interesting, I remember.” -She yawned, as if to the recollection of past dulness; an -open unchecked yawn, such as your fine lady alone can -comfortably achieve in company. “I hope you’ll make -some little nostrum for me, something nice smelling to -dab on a freckle, or kill a wrinkle with—I think I have -a wrinkle coming under my left eye.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She suddenly arrested the dropping impudent langour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>of her speech, clenched a fine gloved hand over the stick -of her eyeglass and stared fixedly: Ellinor had come out -and stood in a shaft of light, as she had an unconscious -trick of doing, seeking the warmth instinctively as any -frank young animal might.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A radiant thing she looked, grey-clad, with the gorgeous -crimson of a summer rose at her belt, her crisp -rebellious hair on fire, her chin and neck gold outlined.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Who is this?” said Lady Lochore, in a new voice, -as sharp as a needle. It was David who answered:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Our cousin, Ellinor Marvel!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How do you do,” said Ellinor composedly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was no attempt on either side at even a hand -touch. Lady Lochore nodded.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor is my good providence here,” continued Sir -David. “I should not have ventured to receive you in -this bachelor establishment had it not been for her presence. -But now everything, I am confident, will be as it -should be during the month that you honour this house -with your presence.” He enunciated each word with -determined deliberateness; it was like the pronouncing -of a sentence. Once again Ellinor felt the implacable -passion of the man under the set, controlled manner. -“If you should desire anything, pray address yourself -to cousin Ellinor,” he added.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore put down her eyeglasses and looked for -a second with natural angry eyes from one to the other. -She bit her lip and it seemed as if beneath the rouge -her cheek turned ghastly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had come prepared to fight and prepared to hate. -Yet this sudden rage springing up within her was not -due to reason but to instinct. It was the ferocious antipathy -of the fading woman for the fresh beauty; of -the woman who has failed in love for her who seems -born to command love as she goes. Lady Lochore could -not look upon her cousin’s fairness without that inner -revulsion of anger which not only works havoc with -the mind but distils acrid poison into the blood.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>The clatter of the second coach was heard without.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Give me the child, give me the boy!” cried Lady -Lochore. She made a rush, with fluttering silks, to the -doors. “No one shall show my boy to his uncle but -myself!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mamma’s own!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Could that be Lady Lochore’s voice? She came staggering -back upon them, clasping a lusty, kicking child -in her frail arms; the whole countenance of the woman -was changed—“A heartless, callow creature,” so Madam -Tutterville had called her, and so Ellinor had learned -to regard her. But even the legendary monster has its -vulnerable spot: there could be no mistaking Maud -Lochore’s passionate maternity. Ellinor drew a step -nearer, attracted in spite of herself; she could almost -have wished to see David’s face unbend. But its previous -severity only gave way to something like mockery, as he -looked at mother and child.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!” cried his sister, “David, this is my boy!” -There was a wild appeal in her voice, almost breaking -upon tears. “Edmund I have called him, after our -father, David. Edmund, my treasure, speak to your -uncle!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will, if you put me down!” The three-year-old boy -struggled to free himself from his mother’s embrace. -His velvet cap fell off and a cherub face under deep red -curls was revealed. Ellinor remembered how the Master -of Lochore’s red head had flashed through these very -halls in the old days, and she hardly dared glance at -David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ll stand down on my own legs, please!” said the -child. “And now I’ll speak.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He shook out his ruffled petticoat and looked up, and -his great, velvet brown eyes wandered from face to face. -The genial ruddiness, the benevolent smile of the good, -childless parson appealed to him first.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Good morning, mine uncle, I hope you’ll learn to -love——”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>Lady Lochore plunged upon him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, Edmund, no! not there! See boy, this is your -uncle.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She clutched at David’s sleeve, while Madam Tutterville’s -tears of easy emotion ran into her melting smile; -and quite unscriptural exclamations, such as “duck,” and -“little pet,” and “lambkin” fell from her delighted -lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Speak to uncle David, darling! David, won’t you say -a word to my child?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor could almost have echoed the wail—it cut into -her womanly heart to see David repel the little one. But -he bent and looked down searchingly into the little face. -At that moment the child, again struggling against the -maternal control, drew his baby brows together and set -his baby features into a scowl of temper. Sir David -looked; and in the defiant eyes, in the little set mouth, -in the very frown, saw the image of his traitor friend. -His own brows gathered into as black a knot as if he -had been confronting Lochore himself. He drew himself -up and folded his arms:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cease prompting the child, Maud,” said he, “let his -lips speak truth, at least as long as they may!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He turned and left them. The little Master of Lochore -was ill-accustomed to meet an angry eye or to hear a -disapproving voice. And, as his mother rose to her feet, -shooting fury through her wet eyes upon the discomfited -circle, he, too, glanced round for comfort and rapidly -making his choice, flung himself upon Ellinor and hid -his face in her skirts, screaming.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The clinging hands, the hot, tear-stained cheeks, the -baby lips, opened yet responsive to her kisses—Ellinor -never forgot the touch of these things. Almost it was, -when Lady Lochore wrenched him from her arms, as if -something of her own had been plucked from her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I want the pretty lady, I will have the pretty lady!” -roared the heir, as Josephine, the nurse, and Margery -carried him between them to his nursery.</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>As Lady Lochore, following in their wake, swept by -Ellinor, she gathered her draperies and shot a single -phrase from between her teeth. It was so low, however, -that Ellinor only caught one word. The blood leaped -to her brow as under the flick of a lash. But even alone, -in her bed at night, she would not, could not admit to -herself that it had had the hideous significance which -the look, the gesture seemed to throw into it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“So it is war!” said Lady Lochore, standing in the -middle of her gorgeous room, the flame of anger devouring -her tears. “Well, so much the better!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stood before the mirror, her chin sunk on her -breast, biting at the laces of her kerchief, while her great -eyes stared unseeingly at the reflection of her own sullen, -wasted beauty. War! On the whole it suited her better -than a hypocritical peace. Hers was not a nature that -could long wear a mask. She was one who could better -fight for what she loved than fawn. And now she had -got her foot into her old home at last; aye, and her -boy’s! After so many years of struggle and failure it -was a triumph that must augur well for the future.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Never had she realised so fully how prosperous, how -noble an estate was Bindon, how altogether desirable; -how different from the barren acres of Roy and the -savage discomfort of its neglected castle. To this plenty, -this refinement, this richness, these traditions, her splendid -boy was heir by right of blood. And she would -have him remain so! She laughed aloud, suddenly, scornfully, -and tossed her head with a ghost of the wild grace -that had made Maud Cheveral the toast of a London -season; a grace that still drew in the wake of the capricious, -fading Lady Lochore a score of idle admirers. -It would be odd indeed if the sly country widow, pink -and white as she was, should be a match for her, now -that they could meet on level ground.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>There came a knock at the door.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If you please, my lady,” said Margery, “humbly -asking your pardon for intruding, I hope your ladyship -remembers me. I’m one of the old servants, and glad -to welcome your ladyship back again to your rightful -place. And the little heir, as we call him, God bless -him for a beauty——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come in, woman,” cried Lady Lochore, “come in -and shut the door!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER IX<br> <span class='large'>A RIDER INTO BATH</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>It is not quiet, is not ease,</div> - <div class='line'>But something deeper far than these:</div> - <div class='line'>The separation that is here is of the grave.</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<span class='sc'>Wordsworth</span> (<cite>Elegiac Poems</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>If a woman, being in love, gain thereby a certain -intuition into the character of the man she loves, -the thousand contradictory emotions of that unrestful -state, its despairs, angers, jealousies, its unreasonable -susceptibilities, all combine to obscure her judgment; so -that, at the same time she knows him better than anyone -else can, and yet can be harsher, more unjust to -him than the rest of the world.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Thus Ellinor understood exactly what was now causing -the metamorphosis of David. She alone guessed the -struggle of his week’s seclusion, from which he had -emerged armoured, as it were, to face the slings and -arrows of the new turn of fate. She alone knew the -inward shrinking, the sick distaste which were covered -by this polished breast-plate of sarcastic reserve; knew -that this deadly courtesy was the only weapon to his -hand, and that he would not lay it aside for a second in -the enemy’s presence. At that moment when she had -seen him read in the child’s face the image of its father, -she had read in his own eyes the irrevocable truth of -those slow words of his under the night sky: “He who -remembers never forgives.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She felt, too, that his very regard for her made it incumbent -on him to treat her now as ceremoniously as his -other guest; that to have openly singled her out for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>notice, or privately to have indulged himself with her -company, would have been alike tactless and ungenerous. -But in spite of all reason could tell her, she felt hurt, -she was chilled, she gave him back coldness for coldness -and mocking formality for his grave courtesy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now and again his eyes would rest upon her, questioning. -But shut out from his night watch on the tower; -shut out by day from their former intimacy by his every -speech and gesture, Ellinor’s feminine sensibility always -overcame her clear head and her generous heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A few days dragged by thus; slow, stiff, intolerable -days. At last Lady Lochore threw off the mask insolently. -Towards the end of their late breakfast, after -an hour of yawns and sighs and pettish tossing of the -good things upon her plate, she suddenly requested of -her brother, in tones that made of the request a command, -permission to invite some guests.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Bindon shrieks for company,” said she, “and, thanks -as I understand, to Mrs. Marvel, it is fairly fit to receive -company. And, I know you like frankness, brother, I -will admit I am used to some company.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She flung a fleering look from Ellinor’s erect head to -the alchemist’s bent, rounded crown. (Master Simon was -deeply interested in Lady Lochore’s case, and as he entertained -certain experimental schemes in his own mind, -sought her company at every opportunity: hence his -unwonted appearance at meals.) Sir David slowly turned -an eye of ironic inquiry upon his sister; but his lips were -too polite to criticise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Anything that can add to your entertainment during -your short stay here,” said he, “must, of course, commend -itself to us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Had Ellinor been less straitened by her own passionate -pride, she might have stooped to pick up solace -from that little plural word.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then I shall write,” said Lady Lochore, with her -usual toss of the head. “If you’ll kindly send a rider -into Bath—there are a few of my friends yet there, I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>learn by my morning’s <i><span lang="es">courier</span></i>—I’ll have the letters ready -for the mail.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David went on slowly peeling a peach. For a -while he seemed absorbed in the delicate task. Then, -laying down the fruit, but without looking up from his -plate, he said:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I presume, before you write those letters that you -intend to submit the names of my prospective guests to -me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore flushed. She knew to what he referred; -knew that there was one guest to which the doors of -Bindon would never be opened in its present master’s -lifetime. She was angry with herself for having made -the blunder of allowing him to imagine for a moment -that she was plotting so absurd a move. She hesitated, -and then, with characteristic cynicism:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What!” she cried, “do you think I want that devil -here? No more than you do yourself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hey, hey!” cried Master Simon, startled from some -abstruse cogitation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Still Sir David looked rigidly down at his plate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“God knows,” pursued the reckless woman, “it’s little -enough I see of him now—but that is already too -much!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She paused, and yet there was no answer. Then with -her scornful laugh:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There’s old Mrs. Geary, the Honourable Caroline—you -remember her, David?—the Dishonourable Caroline, -as they call her in the Assembly Rooms; whether she -cheats or not is no business of mine, but she is the only -woman I care to play piquet with. There’s Colonel Harcourt -and Luke Herrick—they make up the four, and I -don’t think you’ll find anything wrong with their pedigree. -Herrick’s too young for you to know. Priscilla Geary -is in love with him—he’s a <i><span lang="la">parti</span></i>, as rich as he is handsome—and -I’ll want a bait to lure the old lady from -the green cloth at Bath. And if we have Herrick we -must have Tom Villars too, else Herrick will have no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>one to jest at. And besides, the creature is useful to -me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David interrupted her with a sudden movement. -He pushed his chair away from the table and, looking -up from the untouched fruit, fixed for a second a glance -of such weary contempt upon his sister that even her bold -eyes fell.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A Jew, a libertine, an admitted cheat—oh yes, I remember -Mr. Villars, Colonel Harcourt, and Mrs. Geary. -The younger generation, of whose acquaintance I have -not yet the honour, will no doubt prove worthy of such -elders!” He paused again, to continue in his uninflected -voice: “Since these are the sort of guests you most wish -to see at Bindon, you have my permission to invite them.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He rose as he spoke, giving the signal for the breaking -up of the uncomfortable circle. As Lady Lochore -whisked past Master Simon, in his antiquated blue garment, -she paused. She had a sort of liking for the old -man, odd enough when contrasted with the deadly enmity -she had vowed his daughter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Could you not discover,” she whispered, “a leaf or -a berry that might take some effect upon the disease of -priggishness? That new plant of yours. Did you not -say ... didn’t you call it the Star-of-Comfort? I -am sure it would be a comfort.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The effect of the whisper told upon a chest that occasionally -found the ordinary drawing of breath too much -for it. She broke off to cough, and coughed till her -frail form seemed like to be riven. Master Simon watched -her gravely.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I could give you something for that cough, child,” -said he. Then his withered cheek began to kindle, -“Something to soothe the cough first, and then, perhaps, -I—I—that restless temperament of yours, that dissatisfied -and capricious disposition—the Star-of-Comfort, indeed——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She shook her hand in his face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not I,” she gasped. “No more quackery for me! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>Lord, I’m as tough as a worm, Simon.” She laughed -and coughed and struggled for breath. “I believe if you -were to cut me up into little bits, I’d wriggle together -again, but I’ll not answer for poison.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She flung him a malicious look and flaunted forth, -ostentatiously oblivious of Ellinor—her habitual practise -when not openly insulting.</p> - -<p class='c013'>When Sir David and Master Simon were alone together -the old man went solemnly up to his cousin, and -laid his hand upon his breast.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David,” said he, “that sister of yours won’t live another -year unless she gives up the adverse climate of -Scotland, the impure air of the town and the racket of -fashionable life.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tell her so, then,” said Sir David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon drew back and blinkingly surveyed the -set face with an expression of doubt, surprise and unwilling -respect.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The woman’s ill,” he ventured at last.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Shall I bid her rest? Shall I cancel those letters of -invitation?” asked Sir David ironically.</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span></div> -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE STAR DREAMER</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>BOOK III</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Come down ... from yonder mountain heights.</div> - <div class='line'>And come, for Love is of the valley, come,</div> - <div class='line'>For Love is of the valley, come thou down!</div> - <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>The Princess.</cite>)</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER I<br> <span class='large'>THE LITTLE MASTER OF BINDON</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>She played about with slight and sprightly talk,</div> - <div class='line'>And vivid smiles, and faintly venom’d points</div> - <div class='line'>Of slander, glancing here and grazing there.</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Merlin and Vivien</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>In the terraced gardens, under the spreading shadows -of the cedar trees, was gathered a motley group. -Beyond that patch of shade the sun blazed down -on stone steps and balusters, on green turf and scarlet -geranium, with a fervour the eye could scarce endure. -The air was full of hot scents. On a day such as this, -Bindon of old was wont to seem asleep: lulled by the -rhythmic, rocking dream-note of the wild pigeons, deep -in its encircling woods. On a day such as this, the wise -rooks would put off conclave and it would be but some -irrepressible younger member of the ancient community -that would take a wild flight away from leafy shade and, -wheeling over the tree tops, drop between the blue and -the green a drowsy caw. But things were changed this -July at Bindon: these very rooks held noisy counsel in -mid air and discussed what flock of strange bright birds -it was that had alighted in their quiet corner of the world, -to startle its greens and greys, to out-flaunt its flower-beds -with outlandish parrot plumage, to break the humming -summer silence with unknown clamours.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“The Deyvil take my soul!” said Thomas Villars reflectively.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was sitting on the grass at Lady Lochore’s feet; -his long legs in the last cut of trousers strapped over -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>positively the latest boots. The slimness of his waist, -the juvenility of his manner, the black curls that hung -luxuriantly over his clean-shaven face, all this conspired -to give Mr. Villars quite an illusive air of youth, even -from a very short distance. Only a close examination -revealed the lines on the rouged cheek and the wrinkled -fall of chin that the highest and finest stock could not -quite conceal. The latest pedigree gave the year of his -birth as some lost fifty years ago—it also described the -lady who had presided at that event as belonging to the -illustrious Castillian house of Lara. But ill-natured -friends persisted, averred that this lady had belonged to -no more foreign regions than the Minories, and thus they -accounted for Tom’s black ringlets, for his bold arch of -nose, for his slightly thick consonants and his unconquerable -fondness for personal jewellery.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Villars was, however, almost universally accepted -by society: his knowledge of the share market was only -second to his astounding acquaintance with everyone’s -exact financial situation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Deyvil take my soul!” he insisted. Tom Villars was -fond of an oath as of a fine genteel habit.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I defy even the Devil to do that,” said Lady Lochore, -stopping the languidly pettish flap of her fan to shoot an -angry look at him over its edge.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why so, fairest Queen of the Roses?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tom Villars sold his soul to the Devil long ago,” -put in Colonel Harcourt. “It is no longer an asset.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Frankly fifty, with a handsome ruddy face under a -sweep of grey hair that almost gave the impression of the -forgotten becomingness of the powdered peruke, Colonel -Harcourt, of the Grenadiers, erect, broad-chested, pleasantly -swaggering, good humoured and yet haughty, proclaimed -the guardsman to the first glance, even in his easy -country garb.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sold his soul to the Devil?” echoed Luke Herrick, -lifting his handsome young face from the daisies he was -piling in pretty Priscilla Geary’s pink silk lap. “Sold -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>his soul, did he? Uncommon bargain for Beelzebub and -Co.! I thought the firm did better business.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are quite wrong,” said Lady Lochore, looking -down with disfavour upon the countenance of her victim, -who feigned excessive enjoyment of the ambient wit and -humour. “The Devil cannot take Tom Villars’ soul, nor -could Tom Villars sell it to the Devil, for the very good -reason that Tom Villars never had a soul to be disposed -of.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A shout of laughter went round the glowing idle -group.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Cruel, cruel, lady mine!” murmured the oriental -Villars, striving to throw a fire of pleading devotion into -his close-set shallow eyes as he looked up at Lady Lochore -and at the same time to turn a dignified deaf ear upon -his less important tormentors. “In how have I offended -that you thus make a pincushion of my heart?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Villars knew right well that with Lady Lochore, -as with the other fair of his acquaintance, his favour fell -with the barometer of certain little negotiations. But it -was a characteristic—no doubt maternally inherited—that -soft as he was upon the pleasure side of nature, when it -came to business, he was invulnerable.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At this point Mr. Herrick burst into song. He had a -pretty tenor voice:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Come, bring your sampler, and with art</div> - <div class='line'>Draw in’t a wounded heart</div> - <div class='line'>And dropping here and there!</div> - <div class='line'>Not that I think that any dart</div> - <div class='line'>Can make yours bleed a tear</div> - <div class='line'>Or pierce it anywhere——</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>This youth was proud of tracing a collateral relationship -with the genial Cavalier singer, whom he was fond -of quoting in season and out of season. He was a poet -himself, or fancied so; cultivated loose locks, open collars -and flying ties—something also of poetic license in other -matters besides verse. But as his spirits were as inexhaustible -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>as his purse—and he was at heart a guileless boy—there -were not many who would hold him in rigour.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore looked at him with approval, as he lay -stretched at her feet, just then pleasantly occupied in -sticking his decapitated daisies into Miss Priscilla’s uncovered -curls—a process to which that damsel submitted -without so much as a blink of her demure eyelid.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Heart!” echoed Lady Lochore. She had received -that morning a postal application for overdue interest, -and Tom Villars had been so detachedly sympathetic that -there were no tortures she would not now cheerfully have -inflicted upon him. “Heart!” she cried again, “why -don’t you know what is going to happen, when the poor -old machine that is Tom Villars comes to a standstill at -last——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There will be a great concourse of physicians,” broke -in Colonel Harcourt, whose wit was not equal to his -humour, “and when they’ve taken off his wig and his -stays and cut him open——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Out will fall,” interrupted Herrick, “the portrait of -his dear cousin Rebecca—whom he loved in the days of -George II.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Be she likewise one of those</div> - <div class='line'>That an acre hath of nose——’”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>“The physician will find a dreadful little withered fungus,” -pursued Lady Lochore, unheeding.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Which,” lisped Priscilla, suddenly raising the most -innocent eyes in all the world, “which they will send to -Master Rickart to find a grand name for, as the deadliest -kind of poison that ever set doctors wondering. And -sure, ’tisn’t poison at all! Master Rickart will say, but -just a poor kind of snuff that wouldn’t even make a cat -sneeze.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Villars had met Miss Priscilla Geary upon the -great oak stair this morning; and, examining her through -his single eyeglass, had vowed she was a rosebud, and -pinched her chin—all in a very condescending manner.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>“I think you’re all talking very great nonsense,” remarked -the Dishonourable Caroline.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Geary was comfortably ensconced in a deep garden -chair. Now raising her large pale face and protuberant -pale eye from a note-book upon which she had been -making calculations, she seemed to become aware for the -first time of the irresponsible clatter around her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mr. Villars,” she proceeded, in soft gurgling notes -not unlike those of the ringdove’s, “I have been just -going over last night’s calculations and I think there’s a -little error—on your side, dear Mr. Villars.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Villars scrambled to his feet, more discomfited by -this polite observation than by the broad insolence of the -others’ banter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Madam, I really think, ah—pray allow me—we -went thoroughly into the matter last night.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The little pupils in Mrs. Geary’s goggling eyes narrowed -to pins’ points.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I do not think anyone can ever accuse me of inaccuracy,” -she cooed with emphasis. “Come and look for -yourself, Mr. Villars. You owe me still three pounds -nine and eightpence—and three farthings.”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Bianca let</div> - <div class='line'>Me pay the debt</div> - <div class='line'>I owe thee, for a kiss!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>sang the irrepressible Herrick—stretching his arms dramatically -to Priscilla, and advancing his impudent comely -face as if to substantiate the words—upon which she -slapped him with little angry fingers outspread; and Lady -Lochore first frowned, then laughed; then suddenly -sighed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Peep-bo, mamma!” cried a high baby voice.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Every line of Lady Lochore’s face became softened, at -the same time intensified with that wonderful change -that her child’s presence always brought to her. But her -heavy frown instantly came back as she beheld Ellinor, -hatless, bearing a glass of milk upon a tray, while, from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>behind the crisp folds of her skirt, the heir-presumptive -of Lochore (and Bindon) peeped roguishly at his mother.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick sprang to his feet. Colonel Harcourt turned -his brown face to measure the new-comer with his frank -eye and then rose also.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hebe,” said he, looking down with admiration at the -fresh, sun-kissed cheek and the sun-illumined head, -“Hebe, with the nectar of the God!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He took the tray from her hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Give me my milk,” said Lady Lochore. “Edmund, -come here! Come here, darling. Are you thirsty? You -shall drink out of mother’s glass. Come here, sir, this -minute! Really, Mrs. Marvel, you should not take him -from his nurse like this!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With a shrill cry the child rushed back to Ellinor and -clutched her skirt again, announcing in his wilful way -that he would have no nasty milk, and that he loved the -pretty lady. Ellinor had some little ado to restore him -to his mother. Then, seeing him firmly captured at last -by the end of his tartan sash, she stood a moment facing -Lady Lochore’s vindictive eyes with scornful placidity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My father hopes you will drink the milk, cousin -Maud,” said she, “and if you would add to it the little -packet of powder that lies beside it on the tray, he bids -me say that it would be most beneficial to your cough.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>For all response Lady Lochore drank off the glass; -then handed back the tray to Ellinor as if she had been a -servant, the little powder conspicuously untouched. -Ellinor looked from one to the other of the two men; -then with a fine careless gesture passed her burden to -Herrick, and, without another word, walked away up -the terrace steps.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick glanced after her, glanced at the tray in his -hand, and breaking into a quick laugh, promptly thrust -it into Colonel Harcourt’s hands and scurried off in -pursuit. Colonel Harcourt good-humouredly echoed the -laugh, as he finally deposited the object on the grass, then -stood in his turn, gazing philosophically after the two -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>retreating figures that were now progressing side by side, -while Lady Lochore and her son out-wrangled Mrs. Geary -and Mr. Villars.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“’Pon my soul,” said Colonel Harcourt, “<i><span lang="la">vera incessu -patuit Dea</span></i>. That woman walks as well as any I’ve ever -seen!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore caught the words, and they added to the -irritation with which she was endeavouring to stifle her -son’s protestation that he hated mamma.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ll have you know who’s master, sir!” she cried, pinning -down the struggling arms with sudden anger.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’m master. I am the little Master of Lochore—and -Margery says I’m to be the little master here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The mother suddenly relaxed her grasp of him and sat -stonily gazing at him while he rubbed his chubby arm and -stared back at her with pouting lips. The next moment -she went down on her knees beside him, and took him up -in her arms, smothering him with kisses.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Darling, so he shall be, darling, darling!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A panting nurse here rushed upon the scene.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Wretch!” exclaimed my lady, “you are not worth -your salt! How dare you let the child escape you. Yes, -take him, take him!—the weight of him!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She caught Harcourt’s eye fixed reflectively upon her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come and walk with me,” she commanded.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I was two by honours, you remember,” cooed Mrs. -Geary.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am positive, the Deyvil take my soul, Madam! But -’tis my score you are marking instead of your own!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Deserted Priscilla sat making reflective bunches of -daisies. She had not once looked up since Herrick so unceremoniously -left her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The sky was still as blue, the grass as green, the flowers -as bright, the whole summer’s day as lovely; but fret -and discord had crept in among them.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER II<br> <span class='large'>TOTTERING LIFE AND FORTUNE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'>... Loathsome sight,</div> - <div class='line'>How from the rosy lips of life and love</div> - <div class='line'>Flashed the bare grinning skeleton of death!</div> - <div class='line'>White was her cheek; sharp breaths of anger puff’d</div> - <div class='line'>Her nostrils....</div> - <div class='line in20'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Merlin and Vivien</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>With head erect, Lady Lochore walked on between -the borders of lilies. The path was so -narrow and the lilies had grown to such height -and luxuriance that they struck heavily against her; and -each time, like swinging censers, sent gushes of perfume -up towards the hot blue sky.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Colonel Harcourt went perforce a step behind her, just -avoiding to tread on her garments as they trailed, dragging -the little pebbles on the hot grey soil. Now and -again he mopped his brow. He liked neither the sun -on his back nor the strong breath of the flowers, nor this -aimless promenade. But, in his dealings with women, he -had kept an invariable rule of almost exaggerated -deference in little things, and he had found that he could -go further in great ones than most men who disdained -such nicety.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Suddenly Lady Lochore stopped and began to cough. -Then she wheeled round and looked at Harcourt with -irate eyes over the folds of her handkerchief she was -pressing to her lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Anthony Harcourt possessed a breast as hard as -granite, withal an easy superficial gentlemanly benevolence -which did very well for the world in lieu of deeper -feeling; and a great deal better for himself. He was quite -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>shocked at the sound of that cough; still more so when -Lady Lochore flung out the handkerchief towards him -with the inimitable gesture of the living tragedy and -showed it to him stained with blood.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Look at that, Tony,” said she, “and tell me how long -do you think it will be before I bark myself to death?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her cheek was scarlet and her eyes shone with unnatural -brilliance in their wasted sockets. She swayed a little -as she stood, like the lilies about her; and indeed she herself -looked like some passionate southern flower wasting -life and essence even as one looked at her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come out of this heat,” said Harcourt. He took her -left arm and placed it within his; led her to a stone bench -in the shade. She sat down with an impatient sigh, -passed the back of the hand he had held impatiently over -her wet forehead and closed her eyes. In her right hand, -crushed upon her lap, the stained cambric lay hidden.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Is not this better,” said her companion, as if he were -speaking to a child, “out of that sunshine and the sickly -smell of those flowers? Here we get the breeze from the -woods and the scent of the hay. A sort of little heaven -after a successful imitation of the infernal regions.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If you mean Hell, why don’t you say Hell?” said -Lady Lochore. She laughed in that bitterness of soul -that can find no expression but in irony. “Bah!” she -went on, half to herself. “It’s no use trying not to believe -in Hell, my friend; you have to, when you’ve got it -in you! Look here,” she suddenly blazed her unhappy -eyes upon him. “Look here, Tony—honour, now! How -long do you give me?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>All the man’s superficial benevolence looked sadly at -her from his handsome face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am no doctor.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Faugh! Subterfuge!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, then, at the rate going, not three months,” said -he. “But, with rational care, I’ve no doubt, as long as -most.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not three months!” She clenched her right hand -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>convulsively and glanced down at the white folds escaping -from her fingers as if they contained her death warrant. -“Thank, you, Tony. You’re a beast at heart, like the rest -of us, but you’re a gentleman. I am going at a rapid rate, -am I not? Oh, God! I shouldn’t care—what’s beyond -can’t be worse than what’s here. But it’s the child!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The man made no answer. He had the tact of all situations. -Here silence spoke the sympathy that was deeper -than words. There was a pause, Lady Lochore drew her -breath in gasps.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It’s a pretty state of affairs here,” she said, at last, -with her hard laugh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You mean——?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I mean my sanctimonious brother and his prudish -lady!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Surely——?” He raised his eyebrows in expressive -query.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not she!” cried Lady Lochore in passionate disgust. -“I would think the better of her if she did. No, she’s -none of those who deem the world well lost for love. -Oh, she’ll calculate! She’ll give nothing for nothing! -She’s laid her plans.” Lady Lochore began reckoning -on three angry fingers uplifted. “There’s the equivocal -position—one; my brother’s diseased notions of honour—two; -her own bread-and-butter comeliness—three. She’ll -hook him, Tony. She’ll hook him, and my boy will go a -beggar! Lochore has pretty well ruined us as it is.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I should not regard Sir David as a marrying man, -myself,” said the colonel soothingly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No,” said she, “the last man in the world to marry, -but the first to be married on some preposterous claim! -Look here, Tony, we are old friends. I have not walked -you off here to waste your time. You know that my fortunes -are in even more rapid decline than myself. There’s -the child; he is the heir to this place. Before God, what -is it to me, but the child and his rights! I’ll fight for them -till I die. Not much of a boast, you say, but when a -woman’s pushed to it, as I am”—her voice failed her. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>There was something awful in the contrast between the -energy of her passion and the frailness of her body and in -the way they reacted one upon another.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Poor soul!” said Colonel Harcourt to himself—and -his kind eyes were almost suffused.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tony, Tony!” she panted in a whisper of frantic intensity, -“you can help. Oh, don’t look like that! I know -I’m boring you, but I’ll not bore anyone for long. Think -what it means to me! Fool! As if any man could understand! -Don’t be afraid, I won’t ask anything hard of you. -Only to make love to the rosy dairymaid, to the prim -housekeeper, to the pretty widow. Why, man, you can’t -keep your wicked eyes off her as it is!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He leaned back against the bench, crossed one shapely -leg over the other, closed his eyes and laughed gently to -himself. Lady Lochore, bending forward, measured him -with a swift glance, and her lips parted in a sneer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You’re but a lazy fellow. You like your peach growing -at your elbow. You’ve been afraid of hurting my -feelings ... you have been so long regarded as -my possession! Oh, Tony, that’s all over now. Listen—if -you don’t know the ways of woman, who does? The -case is very plain: that creature is planning to compromise -David. I know how you can make love when you -choose, and I know my fool of a brother. I’ll have her -compromised first! And then——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She pressed her hands to her heart, then to her throat; -for a moment or two the poor body had struck work. -Only her eyes pleaded, threatened.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And then? Before the Lord, you ladies!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>For all his <i><span lang="fr">bonhommie de viveur</span></i>, Colonel Harcourt, of -the First Guards, was known about Town to be a good -deal of “a tiger,” as the cant of the day had it; and he -held a justified reputation as an expert with the “saw-handle -and hair-trigger.” Conscious of this, he went on:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Truly, Maud, it may well be said there’s never a man -sent below but a woman showed the way! But is there -not something a little crude in your plan?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>“Crude! Have I time to be mealy-mouthed? I’m not -asking you anything very hard, God knows! Merely to -follow your own bent, Tony Harcourt; you have had your -way with me, but that is over now, and you know it. I -want you to devote yourself to that piece of country bloom -instead. In three months you know what I shall -be!...”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Maud.... And then?” He was -amused no longer: Lady Lochore was undeniably crude. -“A regular conspiracy!” he went on. But, after a moment’s -musing, a gleam came into his eye. “What of it!” -he cried, “all’s fair in love and war—a soldier’s motto, -and it has been mine! And as for you, why, your spirits -would keep twenty alive!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She laughed scornfully.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It sounds better to say so, anyhow,” she retorted. “I -don’t want any mewing over me. So it’s a bargain, Tony? -For old sake’s sake you’ll go against all your principles -and make love to a pretty woman? And we’ll have this -new Pamela out of the citadel. We’ll have this scheming -dairy-wench shown up in her true colours! My precious -brother, as you know, or you don’t know, has got some -rather freakish notions about women. He’s had a slap in -the face once already, and it turned him silly. Disgust -him of this second love affair, he’ll never have a third -and I shall die in peace. You have marked the affectionate, -fraternal way in which he treats me! I had to force -my way back into this house. He’ll never forgive me for -marrying Lochore—and as for Lochore himself, to the -trump of doom David will never forgive him for.... -Bah! for doing him the best turn one man ever did another!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what was that?” asked the colonel, with a slight -yawn.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What you and I are going to do now,” said my Lady. -She smoothed her ruffled hair, folded her stained kerchief -and slipped it into her bag; rose, and looked down smiling -once more at the man, her fine nostrils fluttering with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>her quick breath in a way that gave a singular expression -of mocking cruelty to her face. “Lochore saved Sir David -from marrying beneath him.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And how did he accomplish that?” asked the colonel, -rising too.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was now a faint flutter of curiosity in his breast -The reasons for Sir David’s eccentricity had once been -much discussed. Lady Lochore took two steps down the -path, then looked back over her shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In the simplest way in the world,” she answered. -“He gave a greedy child an apple, while my simpleton of -a brother was solemnly forging a wedding ring.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why”—the colonel stared, then laughed—“my -Lady,” said he “these are strange counsels! Why—absurd! -How could I think the plump, pretty Phyllis -would as much as blink at an old fogey like me. And, as -for me——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Again Lady Lochore turned her head and looked long -and fully at the speaker.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, Tony!” she said slowly at last. “Tony, Tony!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Colonel Harcourt tried in vain to present a set face -of innocence; the self-conscious smile of the gratified <i><span lang="fr">roué</span></i> -quivered on his lips. He broke into a sudden loud laugh -and wagged his head at her. She dropped her eyelids -for a second to shut out the sight.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And she bit into the apple?” asked the colonel, presently.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“With all her teeth, my dear friend. Heavens! isn’t -the world’s history but one long monotonous repetition? -With us Eves, everything depends upon the way the -fruit is offered. And that is why, I suppose, it is seldom -Adam and his legitimate orchard that tempts us. Reflect -on that, Tony.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With this fleer, and a careless forbidding motion of -her hand, she left him standing and looking after -her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a mixture of admiration and distrust in his -eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>“By George, what a woman!” said he. “Gad, I’m -glad I am not her Adam, anyhow!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then his glance grew veiled, as it fixed itself upon an -inward thought, and a slow complacent smile crept upon -his face.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER III<br> <span class='large'>STRAWS ON THE WIND</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>... I feel my genial spirits droop,</div> - <div class='line'>My hopes all flat....</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<span class='sc'>Milton</span> (<cite>Samson Agonistes</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>“I never heard you, my dear Doctor, preach better!” -said Madam Tutterville.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the worthy lady’s countenance was overcast -as she spoke; and the hands which were smoothing and -folding the surplice that the parson had just laid aside -were shaking. The reverend Horatio turned upon his -spouse with a philosophic smile. The lady did not use to -seek him thus in the sacristy after service unless something -in the Sunday congregation seemed to call for her immediate -comment. On this particular morning he well knew -where the thorn pricked; for he himself, mounting to the -pulpit with the consciousness of an extra-polished discourse -awaiting that choice Oxford delivery which had so -rare a chance of being appreciated, had not seen without -a pang of vexation that the Bindon House pew was -empty save for its usual occupant—Mrs. Marvel. Having -promptly overcome his small weakness and proceeded -with his sermon with all the eloquence he would have bestowed -on the expected cultivated, or at least fashionable, -audience, he was now all the more ready to banter his -wife upon her distress.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What is the matter, dear Sophia?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“An ungrateful and reprobate generation! He that -will not hear the church, let him be to thee as the heathen -and the publican!” cried Madam, suddenly rolling the -surplice into a tight bundle and indignantly gesticulating -with it.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>“How now! has Joe Mossmason been snoring under -your very nose, or has Barbara——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tush, tush, Doctor! You know right well what I -mean. Was not that empty pew a scandal and a disgrace? -Bindon House full of guests and not one to come and -bend the knee to their Lord!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And admire my rolling periods, is it not so, my faithful -spouse?” quoth the parson good-naturedly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I took special care to remind them of the hour of -service last night; not, indeed, that I ever expected anything -of Maud; although she might well be thinking that -in every cough she gives she can find the hand-writing on -the wall. Amen, amen, I come like a thief in the night!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson’s eyelids contracted slightly, but he made -no reply. Seating himself in the wooden armchair, he began -with some labour to encircle his unimpeachable legs -with the light summer gaiters that their unprotected, silk-stocking -state demanded for out-door walking.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Horatio, what are you doing? Allow me!” -She was down on her knees in a second; and while, with -her amazing activity of body, she wielded the button-hook, -her tongue never ceased to wag under the stress of -her equally amazing activity of mind.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But that card-playing woman—that Jezebel—one -would have thought she’d have had the decency to open a -prayer-book on the day when the commandments of the -Lord forbid her to shuffle a pack; she’s old enough to -know better!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’m not so sure,” said the reverend Horatio, complacently -stretching out the other leg, “that she interprets -the Sabbath ordinance in that spirit.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Horatio!” ejaculated the outraged churchwoman, -“you do not mean to insinuate that such simony could -take place within our diocese as card-playing on the Sunday?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think, from what I have seen from the Honourable -Mrs. Geary, that she is likely to show more interest in -the card-tables than in the tables of Moses.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>He laughed gently.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Talking of Moses,” cried Madam Tutterville, feverishly -buttoning, “there’s that Mr. Villars—one would -have thought he would come, if only to show himself a -Christian.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But she was careful, even in her righteous exasperation, -not to nip her parson’s tender flesh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you, Sophia!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He rose and reached for his broad-brimmed hat; then -suddenly perceiving from his wife’s empurpled cheek and -trembling lip that the slight had gone deeper than he -thought, he patted her on the shoulder and said in an -altered manner:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come, come, Sophia, let us remember that fortunately -we are not responsible for the shortcomings of Lady -Lochore’s guests. Indeed, from what I saw last night, -it is a matter of far deeper moment to consider the effect -of their presence upon those two who are dear to us at -Bindon.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You mean, Doctor?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I did not like David’s looks, my dear. I fear the -strain and the disgust, and the effort to repress himself, -are too much for him. And besides”—he paused a moment—“I don’t know that I altogether liked Ellinor’s -looks either.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Horatio! I thought I had never seen her so -gay and so handsome.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Too gay, Sophia, and too handsome. So Mr. Herrick -and Colonel Harcourt not to speak of that pitiable -person, Mr. Villars, seem to find her. She appears to me -to take their admiration with rather more ease than is -perhaps altogether wise in a young woman in her position. -I do not say,” he went on, bearing down the lady’s horrified -exclamation—“I do not go so far as yourself in -surmising that David had formed any serious attachment -in that quarter; but then, you see, it might have ripened -into one. There is no doubt there was a singular air of -peace and happiness about Bindon before this most undesirable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>influx. But last night David’s eyes——” He -broke off, readied for his cane and moved towards the -porch.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear sir,” panted Madam Tutterville after him, -“you have plunged me in very deep anxiety! We seem -indeed, as Paul says, to be going from Scyllis to Charybda! -Pray proceed with your sentence—David’s eyes?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the parson had already repented.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay, it is after all but a small matter. All I mean -is that this noise, this wrangling, this frivolity, this trivial -mirth, which is, after all, but the crackling of thorns, is -peculiarly distasteful to such a man as David, and I was -only sorry that your niece should seem to countenance it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will speak to her,” announced Madam Tutterville. -“I will instantly seek her.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay,” said her lord, “my dear Sophia, here we have -no right to interfere. Ellinor has sufficient experience of -the world to be left to her own devices. I understand that -Colonel Harcourt and Mr. Herrick are neither of them a -mean <i><span lang="la">parti</span></i>, and, unless I am seriously mistaken, the -younger man at least is genuinely enamoured. By what -right can we permit our own secret wishes, our own rather -wild match-making plans, to step in here?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, dear!” sighed Sophia. “And we were so comfortable!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The two stood arm-in-arm at the lych-gate and absently -watched the last of their parishioners straggling homeward -in groups through the avenue trees. Suddenly -Madam Tutterville touched her husband’s arm and pointed -with a dramatic gesture in the direction of the House.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Two tall slight figures were moving side by side across -the sunlit green. Even as the rector looked a third, emerging -from the shadows of the beeches, joined them with -sweeping gestures of greeting.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They have been, I declare, lying in wait for Ellinor ... and there she goes off between them, Sunday morning and all!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>Deeply shocked and annoyed was Madam Tutterville.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think,” said the parson, “that I will take an hour’s -rest in the garden. I would, my dear Sophia, you had as -soothing an acquaintance, on such an occasion as Ovid.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER IV<br> <span class='large'>A SHOCK AND A REVELATION</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Into these sacred shades (quoth she)</div> - <div class='line'>How dar’st thou be so bold</div> - <div class='line'>To enter, consecrate to me,</div> - <div class='line'>Or touch this hallowed mould?</div> - <div class='line in8'>—<span class='sc'>Michael Drayton</span> (<cite>Quest of Cynthia</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Ellinor sat on the stone bench in the Herb-Garden, -gazing disconsolately at the flourishing bed of -<em>Euphrosinum</em>—at the Star-of-Comfort—and reviewing -the events of the past days with a heavy and discomforted -heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It is but seldom now that she could find a few minutes -of solitude, so many were the claims upon her time. For, -besides the household duties and Master Simon’s unconscious -tyranny, she was subjected to a kind of persecution -of admiration on the part of Bindon’s male guests. There -were times, indeed, when Colonel Harcourt’s shadowing -attendance became so embarrassing that she was glad to -turn to the protection which the boyish worship of Luke -Herrick afforded.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With the former she felt instinctively that under an -almost exaggerated gentleness and deference there lurked -a gathering danger; whereas the youthful poet, however -exuberant in his devotion, was not only a harmless, but a -sympathetic companion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>While she was far from realising the peril in which she -stood where her dearest hopes were concerned, she felt the -difficulty of her position increase at every turn. Forced by -David’s wish into the society of his visitors, she was there -completely ostracised by the ladies after an art only -known to the feminine community. Thus she was thrown -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>upon the mercies of the gentlemen, and they were extended -to her with but too ready charity. It would not -have been in human nature not to talk and laugh with -Luke Herrick when Miss Priscilla was going by, her -little nose in the air. It was impossible not to accept -with a smiling grace the chair, the footstool, the greeting -offered to her with a mixture of paternal and courtierlike -solicitude, amid the icy silence and the drawing away -of skirts whenever she entered upon the circle.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now and again, perhaps, her laugh may have been a -little too loud, her smile a shade too sweet; but she would -not have been a woman had the insulting attitude of the -other women not led her to some reprisals. Moreover -there was a deep sore place in her soul which cried out -that he who should by rights be her protector held himself -too scornfully aloof; nay, that he actually included her -now and again in the cold glance which he swept round -the table upon his unwelcome guests. To the end of the -chapter a woman will always seize the obvious weapon -wherewith to fight the indifference of the man she loves, -and nine times out of ten it is herself she wounds therewith.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The basket that was to hold the health of the village -was still empty by her side. Absently she fingered a sprig -of wormwood—meet emblem, she thought, of her present -mood. Indeed, Ellinor’s thoughts were not often so bitter. -Not often was her brave spirit so dashed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There came a light rapid step behind her, a burst of -laughter; and, as she turned, the triumphant face of Herrick -met her glance at so slight a distance from her own -that she drew back in double indignation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why have you followed me?” she exclaimed indignantly. -“You know that no one is allowed here!”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“How can I choose but love and follow her</div> - <div class='line'>Whose shadow smells like mild pomander?</div> - <div class='line'>How can I choose but——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>The gay voice broke off suddenly, and a flush—fellow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>to that of Ellinor, yet one of engaging embarrassment, -overspread the singer’s face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, sir?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>How stern, how stiff, how unapproachable, this woman -whom nature had made of such soft lovely stuff! Luke -Herrick stooped, lifted a corner of her muslin apron, and -carried it humbly to his lips.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“How could I choose but kiss her! Whence does come</div> - <div class='line'>The storax, spikenard, myrrh and labdanum?”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>he went on, dropping his recitative note for what was -almost a whisper. From his suppliant posture he looked -up with eyes in which the man pleaded, yet where the -boy’s irrepressible, irresponsible mischievousness still -lurked. It was impossible not to feel that anger was an -absurd weapon against so frivolous a foe. Moreover -she liked him. There was something infectious in his -mercurial humour, something attractive in the honest boy -nature that lay open for all to read. There was something -of a relief, also, to be obliged to jest and to laugh. -To be near him was like meeting a breeze from some lost, -careless youth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Why, after all, should she not try and forget her own -troubles? What was the Herb-Garden to him, to David, -that, with a fond faithfulness she should insist on keeping -it consecrate to the memory of one dawn! He who had -begged for the key of it—what use had he made of the -gift? How many a golden morning, how many a pearly -day-break, how many an amethyst evening, had she -haunted the scented enclosure—always alone!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I’ll not say a single little word,” he urged. “I’ll be -as mute as a sundial, if you’ll only let me bask in your -radiance! I’ll just hold your basket and your scissors, -and I’ll chew every single herb and tell you whether its -taste be sweet, sour or bitter, if you’ll only give me a -leaf between your white fingers. And then if I die——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He thumped his ruffled shirt and languished.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How did you get in?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>But though her tone was still rebuking, he laughed -back into her blue eyes. He made a gesture: she saw the -traces of moss, of lichen and crumbling mortar upon his -kerseymere, the rent in his lace ruffle, the tiny broken -twig that had caught his crisp curl.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah,” she cried, “you have found my old secret scaling -place.... Did you land in the balm bed?” she -asked, laughing.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Colonel Harcourt, in search of Ellinor, looked in -through the locked gate and knocked once or twice, then -called gently. But, though he could hear bursts of -laughter and the intermingling sounds of voices in gay -conversation, he could see nothing but the strange herb-beds -and bushes, intersected by narrow paths, overhung -by swarmlets of humming bees and other honey-seeking -insects; and no one seemed to hear him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As he stood, smiling to himself in good humoured cynicism, -the tall figure of his host, with bare head, came -slowly out of the laurel walk that led to the open plot -before the gate. Sir David seemed absorbed in thought. -And it was not until he was within a pace or two of the -other man that he suddenly looked up.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Good morning!” said the colonel genially. “A -lovely day, is it not? Queer place, that old garden of -weeds—our friend, Master Simon’s herbary, as I understand. -The gate is locked, I find.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>As he spoke, Colonel Harcourt scanned the set, pallid -face with a keen curiosity. It required all a sick woman’s -disordered fancy (he told himself) to imagine that this -cold-blooded student, this walking symbol of abstractedness -should be in danger of being led away into romantic -folly. The soldier’s full smiling lips parted still more -broadly, as he went on to reflect that, whatever designs -the pretty widow might have upon her cousin’s fortune, -her warm splendid personality was scarce likely to be attracted -by “this long, thin, icy, fish of a fellow!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David had inclined his head gravely on the other’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>greeting. When the hearty voice had rattled off its -speech, he answered that he regretted that it was the rule -to admit no visitors to the Herb-Garden. And then drew -a key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock, so -completely ignoring his guest’s persistent proximity, that -the colonel, as a man of breeding would have felt it incumbent -upon him to retire, had he not special reasons for -standing his ground.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed!” said he. “Forbidden ground?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, the plants are many of them deadly poison. It -is a necessary precaution.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No doubt—quite right. Very prudent. But—what -about the charming Mrs. Ellinor Marvel, the beauteous -widow, the bewitching and amiable cousin, whom you are -fortunate to have as companion in this romantic house?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David dropped his hand from the key, turned and fixed -his grave eyes on the speaker. Their expression was -merely one of waiting for the next remark. The colonel -hardly felt quite as assured of his ground as before, but -he resumed in the same tone of banter:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I saw her going there just now. Is it quite safe to -let so precious a being into such dangerous precincts?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The remark ended with that laugh upon the hearty note -of which so much of his popularity rested. Most people -found it impossible not to respond to this breezy way of -Colonel Harcourt’s. But there was not a flicker of change -upon Sir David’s countenance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Yet, when he spoke, after coldly pausing till the other’s -mirth should have utterly ceased, and remarked that his -cousin, Mrs. Marvel, was associated with her father’s -scientific investigations and therefore was the only person, -besides the speaker himself, whom he allowed to make -use of the garden, the colonel felt that his insinuation had -been understood and rebuked by a courtesy severer than -anger. His resentment suddenly rose. The easy contempt -with which he had hitherto regarded the uncongenial -personality of his host, flamed on the instant into -active dislike; and he was glad to have a weapon in his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>hand which might find a joint in this irritatingly impenetrable -armour.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed!” cried he, ruffled out of his usual commanding -urbanity.—Trying to smile he found himself sneering. -“Indeed? Aha, very good, I declare! It is worth -while living on a tower to be able to retain those confiding -views of life! It has never struck you, I suppose—the -stars are doubtless never in the least irregular in their -courses, but young and charming widows have little ways -of their own—it has never struck you that this forbidden -wilderness might be an ideal spot for rendezvous?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David shot at the speaker a look very unlike that -far-off indifferent glance which was all he had hitherto -vouchsafed him. This sudden, steel-bright, concentrated -gaze was like the baring of a blade. Dim stories of the -recluse’s romantic and violent youth began to stir in Harcourt’s -memory. He straightened his own sturdy figure -and the instinctive hot defiance of the fighter at the first -hint of an opposing spirit ran tingling to his stiffening -muscles.</p> - -<p class='c012'>So, for a quick-breathing moment, they fixed each -other. Then, through the drowsy humming summer stillness -rang from within the Herb-Garden the note of Herrick’s -singing voice:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Go, lovely rose and, interwove</div> - <div class='line'>With other flowers, bind my love.</div> - <div class='line'>Tell her too, she must not be,</div> - <div class='line'>Longer flowing, longer free——”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c012'>The melody broke off. There was a burst of laughter; -and then Ellinor’s voice, with an unusual sound of young -merriment in it, sprang up into hearing as a crystal fountain -springs into sight:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Foolish boy, there are no roses here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David started. His eyes remained fixed, but they no -longer saw. In yet another moment he had turned away -and was gone, leaving Colonel Harcourt staring after -him.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>“’Pon my life,” said the <i><span lang="fr">roué</span></i> to himself, “the woman -was right—My God, he’s mad for her!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Upon a second and more composed thought, he began -to chuckle and feel his own personality resume its lost importance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The situation is becoming interesting,” he thought. -His eye fell on the key, forgotten in the lock and he broke -into a short laugh. He then unlocked the gate, slipped -the key into his pocket and walked into the garden.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I had no idea,” he said, addressing the balm beds, as -he passed them, “that I could be such a useful friend to -my Lady.”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER V<br> <span class='large'>SILENT NIGHT THE REFUGE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>My life has crept so long on a broken wing</div> - <div class='line'>Thro’ cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear,</div> - <div class='line'>That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing:</div> - <div class='line'>My mood is changed, for it fell at a time of year</div> - <div class='line'>When the face of night is fair on the dewy downs</div> - <div class='line in22'>... and the Charioteer</div> - <div class='line'>And starry Gemini hang like glorious crowns</div> - <div class='line'>Over Orion’s grave low down in the west.</div> - <div class='line in36'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Ellinor had had, perforce, so busy an afternoon -(to make up for time lost in the morning) that, -marshalled by Lady Lochore, all the guests were -already at table when she came in that night.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stood a moment framed in the doorway, a brilliant -apparition. Despite its many candelabras and the soft -light that still poured into it through open windows, the -great room—oak-panelled and oak-ceiled—was of its -essence richly dark. Nearly black were those panels, -polished by centuries to inimitable gloss and reflecting the -flames of the candles like so many little yellow crocuses.—Such -walls are the best background for fair women and -fine clothes; for roses and silver and gold.</p> - -<p class='c012'>This evening Ellinor had been moved—though she -hardly knew why—to discard her severely simple gowns -for a relic of the early days of her married life, a garment -of a fashion already passed. In the embroidered fabric -she was clothed as a flower is clothed by its sheath. A -narrow white satin train with a heavy border of little -golden roses fell from her shoulders in folds that accentuated -her height. The classic cut, that laid bare a sweep -of neck and arm that not another woman in the county -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>could boast, became her as simplicity does royalty. The -mingling of the white and gold was repeated by her skin -and hair. As she cast a last look at herself, in the mirror -before leaving her room, a smile of innocent delight had -parted her lips. She had seen herself beautiful—how -beautiful she was, she herself indeed did not know. She -had thought of David and had been glad. The ever more -open admiration with which both Herrick and Colonel -Harcourt had surrounded her throughout the day had -stimulated her in some strange, but very feminine and -quite pure, manner, to make better use of these gifts of -hers to pleasure the eyes of the man she loved.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now Lady Lochore was the first to see her on her entrance. -She put up her eyeglasses and stared, and then -dropped them with a pale convulsion which turned the -next moment to a vindictive smile.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Colonel Harcourt followed the direction of her eyes and -positively started with a frank stare of delight. He -wheeled boldly round to feast his eyes at ease; the action -and the attitude were almost equivalent to applause. Then -it seemed to Ellinor that every head was turned, that -every eye was upon her; and her innocent assurance suddenly -failed her. Timidly she shot a glance towards the -head of the table. Alas! everyone was looking at her, -except him whose gaze alone meant anything. All her -childish pleasure fell from her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She advanced composedly enough, however, and took -the only vacant seat, which was between the colonel and -young Herrick, vaguely responding to their advance. After -a while a sort of invincible attraction made her look -up. She met David’s eyes—met the chill of death where -she had expected the warmth of life!</p> - -<p class='c012'>What had happened? Her heart seemed to wither -away, the smile was paralysed on her lips; the flowers, the -lights, the flashes of silver and colour, the babel of talk -about her—it all became nightmare, an unreal world of -mocking shadows, in which one thing only was horribly -and intensely alive, the pain of her sudden misery. After -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>a moment, however, some kind of self-possession returned. -The pressing exigency that weighs upon us all, of preserving -our bearing in company, no matter whether soul or -body be at torture, forced her to answer the running fire -of remarks that seemed to be levelled at her with diabolical -persistency.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Even the kind, friendly presence of the rectory pair -seemed destined that night to add to her difficulty; for -while uncle Horatio was quoting Greek at her across the -table, Madam Tutterville was assuring her neighbors that -if Mrs. Marvel was unpunctual for once she was nevertheless -the faithful virgin with lamp in excellent condition, -who knew how to trim her wicks; and was, in fact, the -strong woman of Proverbs who got up early.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“One rose in the fair garden was missing, and I missed -her!” said the rector, poetically, while he turned an affectionate -glance upon his niece.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear uncle Horatio,” said she, “I had rather be -greeted by you than acclaimed by a court.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Horrible, horrible cruel to poor adoring courtiers!” -murmured Colonel Harcourt in her ear.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At any moment, that confidential lowering of the voice, -that bold intimacy of the gaze would have excited -Ellinor’s swiftest rebuke; but now she only laughed nervously -as she endeavoured to rally in reply to Herrick’s -equally low-pitched, but quite guileless show of interest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What is the matter with you?” he was whispering; -“you went as white as a sheet just now. Has anyone -annoyed you? Do tell me!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I, white—what nonsense!” she cried; and her voice -rang a little louder and harder than usual in her effort, -while the rush of blood that had succeeded her momentary -faintness left an unusual scarlet on both cheeks. “Why, -I am burning! And so would you be if you had spent the -day between the alembic stove and the kitchen!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Perhaps,” said Miss Priscilla, lifting her innocent -eyes to shoot baby-anger across at the neglectful Herrick, -“perhaps,” she said, in her small soft voice, “it also was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>sitting so long in the sun in the Herb-Garden, that’s given -you that colour. There’s Mister Luke has got the match -of it himself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore gave a loud laugh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Marvel has so many irons in the fire!” she suggested.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor looked round the table. She seemed to remain -the centre of notice: on the part of the women (with the -exception of aunt Sophia) an inimical, almost vindictive -notice; while, where the men were concerned, she could -not turn her gaze without meeting glances of undisguised -hot admiration. Instinctively, as if for help, she again -sought David’s gaze, and again was thrown back into indescribable -terror and bewilderment by his countenance. -Only once through all the phases of gloom, discouragement, -renunciation that his soul had passed through in -her company, had she seen his features wear that deathlike -mask—it was when he had battled with himself before -reading his sister’s letter. And now this repudiation, nay, -this contempt of things, was directed—she felt it with a -nightmare sense of inevitableness—towards herself. -Herself!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Oh, the torture of that long elaborate repast, the nauseating -weariness of the ceaseless round of dishes, the -inane ceremonies of wine-taking, the glass clinking, the -jokes, the laughter, the compliments, the struggle to -parry the spiteful or the too ardent innuendo, to laugh -with the rest at Aunt Sophia’s happy inaccuracy, to respond -to her proud congratulations over the success of -each remove! Ellinor’s life had not been an easy one; -but no harder hour had it ever meted out to her than this.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Parson Tutterville had suddenly become grave and -silent. His kind, shrewd gaze had wandered several -times from the gloom of David’s countenance to the flush -upon Ellinor’s cheek. Then, with fixed eyes, fell into a -reflection so profound that—most unusual occurrence in -the amiable epicure’s existence—the superb wine before -him waited in vain to whisper its fragrant secret, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>the most artistic succulence was left untasted upon his -plate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>When the party at length broke up, he himself, in a -coign of vantage, caught Ellinor’s arm as she passed him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear child,” he said under his voice, “something -must have happened! I have not seen David look like -this since the old evil days—the Black Dog is sitting on -his shoulder with a vengeance! What is it?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor’s lip quivered. She shook her head, words -failed her. A shade of severity crept into the rector’s -face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Have you quarrelled?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Again the mute reply.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Have you nothing to tell me? Ah, child, take care; -David is not like other men! His mind is a complicated -piece of machinery—and the common tools, Ellinor, will -only work havoc here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor’s sore heart was stabbed again. She understood -the veiled rebuke; and the injustice of it so hurt -her that to hide her tears, she broke from the kind hand -and rushed from the room in the wake of the disdainful -petticoats that had just swept by her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Parson Tutterville looked after her with puzzled air; -then, sighing, returned to the table. Here David was dispensing -the hospitality of Bindon’s matchless cellar, discoursing -to his guests in a mood of irony so bitter yet so -intangible as to fill the rector with fresh alarm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The reverend Horatio took his seat at the right of -the master; and, without a spark of interest, watched the -pale hand busy among the decanters fill his beaker. He -would, indeed, have preferred not to put his lips to it, had -the exigencies of the social moment but permitted it, so -utterly had that smile of David’s turned its flavour for -him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“By George!” exclaimed the colonel, flinging himself -luxuriously back in his chair and speaking with the enthusiasm -of an experienced sensualist, “by George, a -glorious tipple! Enough to turn the whitest-livered cur -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>into a hero! Come, come, gentlemen, we must not let -such grape juice run down our throats unconsecrate, as -if we were beasts. Let us dedicate every drop of it.—A -toast, a toast!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He had reached that agreeable state which should be -the aim of the expert diner at this crucial moment of the -repast. He had eaten well and had drunk wisely; and -was now on the fine border line where the utmost enjoyment -of the sober man merges into the first elevation -of spirit of the slightly intoxicated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I propose our amiable host,” he went on, just as -Herrick, springing to his feet and raising his glass exclaimed:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There can be here but one worthy toast—the fair -ones of Bindon.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Our Queens, our Goddesses, our Nymphs, our -Angels!” interrupted Villars, with his usual inspiration.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Our fair ones!” echoed David, rising also; “indeed -nothing could be more just than that we should devote -the blood wrung from the grape that makes, as Colonel -Harcourt truly says, heroes of mankind, to woman, that -other spring of all our noble actions. Is it not so, my -gallant Colonel?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hear him, hear!” cried innocent Herrick, beating the -table with an excited hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>David’s glacial eye fell for a moment on the hot boy-face, -and there flickered in it a kind of faint pity. So, -one might fantastically fancy, would a spirit recently rent -from the body by an agonising death, look from its own -corpse upon those who had yet to die.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Let us drink,” said David, and raised his glass, “to -Woman! Without her what should we know of ourselves, -of our friends, of the treasures of the human heart -and the nobility of the human mind, of honour, of purity, -of faithfulness!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Dr. Tutterville looked up at the speaker, resting his -hand on the table in the attitude of one prepared to spring -forward in an emergency. As David’s voice rang out -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>ever more incisive he was reminded of the breaking of -sheets of ice under the stress of dark waters below.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A moment, please,” here intervened Colonel Harcourt’s -mellow note. “Friend Herrick’s excellent suggestion, -and our host’s most eloquent adoption of it, can -yet (craving your pardon, gentlemen) be amended. Let -us not dilute the enjoyment of this excellent moment—let -us concentrate it, as good Master Simon would say. -Gentlemen, this glass not to women, but to the one -woman! Come, parson, up with you! Fie—what would -Madam Tutterville say? And he has but given half his -heart who fears to proclaim its mistress. Hoy! Gone -away! And out on you if you shy at the fence! I drink -to Mistress Marvel—to the marvel of Marvels, aha!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He tossed down his glass, looking coolly at David, while -Herrick, leaning forward with the furious eyes of the -young lover stung, glared across the table and balanced -his own glass in his hand with an intent which another -second had seen carried out, had not the parson’s fingers -quietly closed upon his; had not the parson’s voice murmured -in his ear:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Remember, my young friend, that the imprudent -champion is a lady’s greatest enemy.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>This while Villars, on his side, sputtering into silly -laughter, protested that fair play was a jewel and that -if Harcourt had stolen a march upon him, he Villars -might yet be in “at the death!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David stood still, glass in hand, dangerously still, while -his eyes first wandered round the table, from face to -face, and then beyond out to the midsummer twilight sky -that shone through the parted folds of the curtains. -And then the parson, who was watching him, saw a -marvellous change come over the bitter passion of his -face. It was as if the mask had fallen away. The -rigid composure, the tense lines relaxed, the sombre eye -was lit with a new light; and ethereal peace touched the -troubled forehead.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Wondering, the divine turned to the window also; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>followed the direction of David’s abstracted gaze and saw -how, in the placid primrose space, the first evening star -had lit her tender little lamp.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a moment’s curious silence in the great -room. Then, from David’s hand the glass fell, breaking -on the mahogany; and the ruby wine was spilled in a -great splash and ran stealthily, looking like blood. And -the host, the lord of Bindon, with head erect and eyes -fixed upon visions that none could even guess at, turned -and left them all—without a word.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Re-acting against the unusual sensation that had almost -paralysed them, Bindon’s guests raised a shout of -protest, and Harcourt sprang angrily towards the closing -door. But the parson again interposed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I pray you,” he said, with a dignity that imposed -obedience, “I pray you let Sir David depart. He has -gone back to his tower, and there no one must disturb -him. He leaves you to your own more congenial company.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Colonel Harcourt broke into a boisterous laugh as he -sank back into his chair, and reached for the bottle.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pity for the good wine spilt—that’s all,” he cried. -“But ’twas wasted anyhow upon such a dreamy lunatic!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Unceremoniously he filled himself another brimmer, -and reflecting a moment—</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Now to my Lady Lochore!” said he at length slowly, -“and to the wish of her heart!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Doctor Tutterville looked at him askance. Then, after -a moment, he too rose, and with an old-fashioned bow all -round, left the room.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VI<br> <span class='large'>THE LUST OF RENUNCIATION</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>O purblind race of miserable men,</div> - <div class='line'>How many among us at this very hour</div> - <div class='line'>Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves</div> - <div class='line'>By taking true for false or false for true!</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Geraint and Enid</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Ellinor went straight from the dining-room to -seek her father in his peaceful retreat. Courage -failed her to face the company any longer that -night; she had, moreover, a longing to be with one who -at least would not misunderstand her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But, on the very threshold, her heart sank. It hardly -needed Barnaby’s warning clutch at her gown from where -he sat like a statue of watchfulness, just inside the door, -his shake of the head and mysterious finger on lip to show -her that her coming was inopportune. The very atmosphere -of the room forbade interruption. The air seemed -full of floating thoughts, of whispering voices and -stealthy vapours; of these singular aromas that to -her were like the letters of a strange language which she -had hardly yet learned to spell. Up to the vaulted roof -the whole space was humming with mysterious activity; -a thousand energies were in being around some secret -work. And there, master-brain and centre power, her -father, seated at his table, like a mimic creator evolving -a world of his own out of the forces of his chaos!</p> - -<p class='c012'>She came forward a step or two. His underlip was -moving rapidly; and broken, unintelligible words dropped -from time to time among the whispering vapour-voices -all about him, like stones into a singing fountain. Now -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>he lifted his blue eyes, stared straight at her—and saw -her not!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Once or twice before she had known him in this state of -mental isolation; she was aware that his brain was wound -up to an extraordinary pitch, and that to interfere with -its operations or endeavour now to bring its thoughts into -another current would be at once useless to herself and -cruel to him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Alas! He had been at his mysterious drugs again—those -unknown powers that were beginning to fill her -with secret terrors. She had more than once implored him -to deal no more with them; but she might as well have -implored a Napoleon to desist from planning conquest as -the old chemist from experimenting upon himself or -others.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She turned, and looked questioningly at Barnaby, who, -by some strange dog-like intuition, never failed to remain -within sight of his master at such moments. And the lad’s -expressive pantomime convinced her that her surmises -were right. With a new anxiety added to her burden, -she withdrew.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As she stood a moment outside the door, in deep despondency, -she heard footfalls coming rapidly down the -long passage which led from the tower-wing to the main -body of the house. Her heart leaped: her heart would -always echo to the sound of that step, as an untouched -lute will answer to the call of its own harmony. It was -David!</p> - -<p class='c012'>His brow uplifted, his gaze fixed, he came swiftly out -of the shadow into the little circle of light; passed her so -closely as nearly to brush her with his sleeve and crossed -into the darkness again. And she heard the beat of his -foot on the tower stairs in the distance, mount, mount, -and die away. As little as her father, had he been aware -of her presence!</p> - -<p class='c012'>She pressed her hands against her breast; and the taste -of the tears she would not shed lay bitter on her tongue, -the grip of the sob she would not utter left strangling -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>pain in her throat. Poor all-human thing, with all her -human passions, human longings, human weakness, -what was she to do between these two visionaries!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then, in the natural revolt of youth repressed, she -came to a sudden resolution. Her father was old; and, -besides, he had drugged himself to-night till nothing lived -in him but the mind. But David was young, young like -herself! What was to hinder from following him again -to his altitude; from calling upon him, by all the blood of -her beating heart to the blood of his own, to come back -from that spirit-world where she could not stand beside -him—back to her level, where only a little while ago he -had found a green and flowering resting-place? Then she -would let him look into her soul. Then, with a tender -hand, she would take that mask from his face. Then the -hideous incomprehensible shadow that had come between -them would fly before the light of truth, and (even to -herself she could hardly formulate the sweetness of that -hope into words) before the revelation of Love!</p> - -<p class='c012'>She caught up her heavy satin train and her gossamer -muslins and ran, as if flying from her own hesitation, up -the great stone stairs without a pause to listen to the beating -of her heart, across the threshold of that room where, -upon that first evening of tender memory, she had tripped -and been caught against his breast.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was not in the observatory. She sought the platform. -She had known that she would find him there: -and there indeed he stood, even as pictured in her mind, -with folded arms and looking up at the sky. She looked -up also, and was jealously glad, in her woman’s heart, -that, so radiant was the summer moon to-night, those -shining rivals of hers were but few and faint to the eye.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She laid her hand upon his arm; he turned, without a -word, stared a second:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had meant to call him back to earth, but not like -this! Here was again the incomprehensible look that had -rested upon her at dinner, but with an added fierceness of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>anger so foreign to all she had known of him that she felt -as if it slashed her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, what has happened? David, what have I done?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She clasped and wrung her hands. On her heat of -pleading his answer fell like ice.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Done?” he echoed, with that pale smile that seemed -to mock at itself; “done, my fair cousin? Nothing in -truth that anyone—I least of all—could find fault with. -It would be as wise to chide the winds for shifting from -north to south as to hold a woman responsible for her own -nature.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His light tones was in startling contrast with the flame -of his eye. All unaware of any incident of the day that -could have afforded ground for this change, she found -as yet no clue in his words to guide her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David, David—what is it?” she cried again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>In the anguish of her desire to break down the barrier -between them, to get close to his soul again, she stepped -towards him, hardly noticing that he drew back from -her until he was brought up by the parapet of the platform. -When he could retreat no further, he threw out -his hand with a forbidding gesture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stood obedient but bewildered, as a child that is -threatened though it knows not why. The winds of the -summer night played with the tendrils of her hair and -softly blew the fair white fabric of her gown closer -against her, while the tide of moon rays, pouring over her -bare shoulders and arms, glorifying the smooth skin with -a radiant gleam as of mother-of-pearl, flashed back in -scintillations from the burnished embroideries of her -robes; so that, with the heaving of her breast and the -tremor which shook her whole frame, she seemed to be -enveloped with running silver fires.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Something—a passion, a mad desire—flickered into the -man’s face, as if, for an instant, a hidden fire had leapt -up. The next instant this was succeeded by the former -cruel gaze of contempt and anger, the more intense because -so icily controlled. Once more measuring her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>from head to foot, he murmured, with an extraordinary -bitterness of accent:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Are all women either fools or wantons?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>One moment indeed she swayed as if she would have -fallen; but instantly she recovered herself, and, with a -movement, full of pride and dignity, stooped to gather -the folds of her heavy train into her hands and fling them -across those shoulders and arms she had so innocently -left bare to walk in beauty before him. That the man -she loved could have looked, could have spoken such -insult, oh, no hand could ever draw the blade from out -her heart! There would it remain and rust till she died. -Her cheeks—nothing but death indeed would ever cool -them again, she thought. And no waters, no snow, no -fire would cleanse her white garments from the mud he -had just cast at them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She turned upon him, her arms folded under the -swathes of satin.</p> - -<p class='c012'>They were no longer master of the place and voluntary -servant; no longer rich lord of the land and recipient -of his bounty; no longer the protector and the protected—no -longer even the secretly beloved and the loving—they -were man and woman upon the equality in which -Nature had placed them in their young life. Man and -woman, alone in the night, under the great open sky, -the wide star-pointed heaven, high-uplifted above the -land, far apart from any living creature, unrestrained -by any convention, any extraneous touch; face to face, -so utterly man and woman alone on this high peak of -passion, that it almost seemed as if their bodily envelope -must fall away also and leave naked soul to naked soul. -And yet, such lonely things has God made us in spirit, -He who nevertheless said: “It is not good for man to be -alone,” that when two souls meet in conflict and there is -no tender hand touch, no meeting of lip to lip to draw the -two together without words (we are always so betrayed -by the treachery of word!) the difference in each soul is -so essential that it seems as if nothing could ever bring -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>them into union again. And there are battles in life -which the soul traverses as utterly single as that final battle -of all which each one of us is doomed to fight alone.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!” cried Ellinor, “explain!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was a command, enforced by eye and tone. So had -Ellinor never looked before upon David; so had her voice -never rung in his ear.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Explain!” he echoed. “Of what value can the -opinions of this poor fool among men, this recluse, this -dreamer be to you, what consequences can you attach -to them? Go back to the gay circle to which your nature -belongs! There is your centre. Have I not seen it this -month? Did I not see it to-day—to-night? What have -we really in common, you and I?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A glimmer of comprehension began to dawn upon Ellinor’s -mind. But, sweetly stirring as it might have been -at another moment to know David jealous, his mistrust -came too closely upon his offence to avail. It was but -added fuel to her wrath.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How unjust!” she cried. “How ungenerous, how -untrue!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His haggard eye rested upon her with a sudden doubt -of himself. Yet it was but as the pause before the widening -rent in the breach—the pressure of the pent-up feelings -on their unnatural height was too much now for -the already weakened defences. The torrents were loose! -He began, in hoarse, rapid, whispering voice:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, how you must laugh—you women that make us -dance like puppets as you hold the strings!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then, suddenly, as with a crash and almost a cry, -came the first leap of the flood.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why do you seek me? Could you not be content to -have brought into my peace—God knows how hardly -won!—this disturbance, this trouble, this disillusion? -Have you not shown me once again that no woman, however -kind, can be true; however fair but must be false; -however straight-limbed, but must be tortuous of mind; -however sweet to draw a man to her but must be black -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>at heart! Is not that enough? I had gone back to my -stars, back to all they mean to me; they had called me -from among that ignoble crew where you—oh, incredible! -seem to have found yourself so well! I had gone back -to them, to their serenity, to their high communion.... -Why did you call me down? Take your false troubling -beauty from this my own peace ground!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But David! But, dear cousin, what insanity is this?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No,” he cried, with outflung hands beating back the -sudden tender relaxation in her voice, the loosening movement -of her folded arms under their mantle. “No,” -he repeated loudly and harshly. “Once deceived where -I most loved! Again deceived where I most trusted! -Deceived again where nature, common blood, and family -honour, should have most bound to faithfulness—it is -enough! I have done with life. I will never again risk -my hard-won peace of mind—life’s most precious possession—upon -the frail stake of another’s loyalty. I have -no friend, I have no sister. Ellinor, I will love no -woman!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His loud voice suddenly sank; and towards the last -sentences, with a falling of her high spirit of anger, she -saw him resume the old unnatural look, the old passionless -tone of detachment and renunciation. The phrase -with which he concluded rang in her ears more like a -knell of all her secret hopes than the conventional offence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh,” said she, and the clear sweet note was shot -through with a tremor of pain, “neither friend nor kin -nor love? It is a hard sentence, David! Is it not as -bad to mistrust truth as to break troth?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But though her words were gentle she felt herself more -aloof as she spoke than at any moment of their interview. -Their two souls were drawing away from each -other in the storm as the same wind and the same waves -may part consorting vessels.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She moved, as to leave him, when he arrested her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You know the story of my life,” said he. “Stay, -Ellinor, the night is mild.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>He put out his hand; but hesitated, and did not touch -her. The frenzy of passion had left him, with that sudden -change of mood that marks the fevered brain. She -sat down on the parapet without a word. The night -was mild, as he had said; yet, even under her improvised -mantle she was cold—cold to the soul.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now he had sealed the vial of her love. And, unless his -hand knew the cunning of it and could break it open -again, sealed it must remain till death. Had he but looked -upon her first as now, but spoken as now, how different -she might have made it! But even with his eyes upon her -once more kind, and his voice in her ear once more gentle; -with his hand trembling upon the stone of the bench, -but a tiny span from hers; with the atmosphere of his -presence enfolding her, she felt that they were still drifting -apart further and further across the waste of waters.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What have I said to you to-night?” he asked, and -drew his hand across his brow. “Forgive me, you have -always been very good to me. I owe you a great deal.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She smiled with a welling bitterness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If you speak of owing,” she said, “I owe you the -very bread I eat.” “And never felt it till to-night,” she -added in her heart, but could not speak those words -aloud because, in spite of everything, she loved him with -that woman’s love that is kept tender by the mother instinct.—She -could not hurt him who had hurt her so -much.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His troubled gaze on her widened and then became -abstracted.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have become a creature of the night,” said he, almost -as if to himself. “For, by the light of day I cast -such shadows as I go, that nothing, I think, could prosper -near me. Always I have paid such toll for every good -that it had been better I had never known it. The old -curse is still upon me. Even for the comfort of your -smile, Ellinor, I have had to pay.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She drew a breath as if she would speak, but closed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>her lips proudly again. She could not plead for his happiness, -for now that meant pleading for herself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Let me tell you,” said he once more, “what life has -done to me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am listening,” she replied coldly, after a pause.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you—you are always patient with me. It is -the last time that I shall ever bring a human being into -my confidence, but I think you have a right to know, -Ellinor, why I have been so moved to-day; to know how -it is that events have once more shown me my own unfitness -to mix with my fellow-creatures.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He paused a second, then went on, resentment once -more threatening in his voice like distant thunder.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I cannot do with the meanness, the small duplicities, -the little treacheries. Oh, God, duplicity is never small, -and to me there is no little treachery. Ellinor, let but -the tiniest rift be sprung in the crystal, and its note can -never ring pure again. Oh, Ellinor, had you forgotten -that?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He stared at her with a new passion of reproach. But -she sat, marble-still, with downcast lids: a cold white -thing in the moonlight. And that passion of his that -might just then have broken into tenderness, like a wave -upon a gentle beach, recoiled upon itself as it met the -barrier of her high hard pride.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He rose, thrust his nervous hands through his hair, -pulling the heavy locks back from his brow. Then he -began to speak very rapidly; sometimes turning towards -her, as if his emotion must find an object; sometimes in -lower tones, as if communing with himself; sometimes -again throwing his words, as it were, into space. And -thus he made his indictment against the mysterious powers -that had ruled his fate.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VII<br> <span class='large'>SHADOWS OF THE HEART OF YOUTH</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Be mine a philosopher’s life in the quiet woodland ways,</div> - <div class='line'>Where, if I cannot be gay, let a passionless peace be my lot.</div> - <div class='line'>Far off from the clamour of liars, ...</div> - <div class='line'>And most of all would I flee from the cruel madness of love,</div> - <div class='line'>The poison of honey-flowers, and all the measureless ills!</div> - <div class='line in36'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Maud</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The moon, fulfilling its lower summer circuit, -had moved already a considerable span upon -the wondrous measure that, to the watcher, -seems imperceptibly slow, and yet, like the passing of the -hour, asserts itself with such irrevocable swiftness. The -night had deepened from pale sapphire to dark amethyst. -Below, all around, the great woods at Bindon, silver-crested -southwards, whispered; and the light airs that -stirred them gathered sweets from the rose-gardens and -spices from the Herbary before reaching the two on -their tower. These airs, Ellinor thought, must pass on -their way again, heavy with the sighs of her heart!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“On such a night,” what might not have been this -meeting! With life all before them yet, what perversity -was it to spend this silvery hour in the story of old and -ugly wrongs; when God had made a heaven so fair, an -earth so scented and a woman’s heart so true, to see all -with distorted vision and consort with the remembrance -of injury until the voice of no better comrade could make -itself heard!</p> - -<p class='c012'>He told her with how high a heart he had set forth -on life; and indeed she well remembered his gallant -figure in the pride of youth, his lofty idealism and his -fine intolerant scorn. She remembered, too, the witty -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>mocking countenance, the cold green eye, the dark, -auburn head of the Master of Lochore.—Lochore! Ellinor -had instinctively dreaded and hated him. But with -David he had taken the lead in everything; the relentless -strength of the elder man’s nature had transformed him -into a kind of hero for the younger, at a time when -student-brains are peopled with ideals of the highest -pitch in all things, be it love or sport, war or friendship. -David’s reflective temperament was fascinated by a spirit -of essential joyousness and fierceness.—In but a few -words David touched on his past romantic affection for -this Cosmo Lochore. It was with a sneer, as if the ghost -of his own green youth had risen up before him and -he could have withered it for his contemptible folly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then,” he went on, “came the long-promised month -on the moors, at the edge of the Lochore Forest. Cosmo, -in his kilt, at early dawn ... to see his crest of hair -and his eagle feather flame in the first shaft of light! I -don’t suppose that any feelings can ever be quite so pure, -so strong, so ideal, as this sort of boy adoration for the -man. Ideal!” repeated David, and struck with his -buckled shoe against a fernlet that had found a home for -itself between two stones of the tower flooring and cast -a little shadow in the moonlight.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor saw how he set his foot upon it, and thought -the action symbolic.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ideal!” cried he, gibing at himself. “That is my -curse, you see, that I cannot even now, accept life as it is! -Fie! How ugly is all reality to me! What is in the -doom of corruption that we carry in the flesh compared -to the doom of corruption in the spirit? No! Rather -this stone at my feet and the stars above my head!” He -lifted, as he spoke, his face towards the sky; but it caught -now no reflection of serenity, only light upon its own -trouble. “I was an idealiser in friendship—how much -more when it came to love!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Impassively as she held herself, she could not control -a slight start, a quick look at him. He was gazing beyond -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>her, as if out there, in the night, the phantom of his first -lost love had arisen before him. And when he went on -speaking after a pause, it was as if he were addressing -not Ellinor, but her—the Unknown—who had brought -short joy and lasting sorrow into his life. Oh! Ellinor -had been a fool not to have known how deep it had gone -with him, since, after all these long years his every word, -every action, bore witness to it! And yet, as she now -looked at his face, she told herself she had not known it.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“A little creature—a kind of sprite, as light as a little -brown bird, as lissom, as hardy as a heather blossom!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Thus, from the unknown past, Ellinor’s rival rose before -her: to be light, to be little, to be swift and lissom and -brown—that was the way into his heart!... In -every inch of her own splendid frame the listening woman -felt great and massive, marble-white and still.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He paused. His mind was miles and years away. She -caught her breath with a sigh that sounded so loud in -her own ears that she tried to cover it with a laugh. -Quickly the man wheeled round upon her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There is humour in my tale, is there not?” cried he, -and his look and tone cut like the lash of a whip. “But -give me your patience—the cream of the humour has yet -to come!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, David,” cried she in anger. “If I am not light -of body, neither am I light of mind!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>If one like Colonel Harcourt, who understood the ways -of women, had heard this cry, how knowing would have -been his smile! What could David see of the heart laid -bare? He looked upon her face and marked it scornful. -The anger in her voice had struck him, but the wail of -it had passed him by.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do I accuse you women?” he exclaimed. “Why -should I! Have you not been made to match us men? -The night that Lochore and I lost our way upon the moor -and found refuge under the roof where she dwelt was -the beginning of my instruction in life! Ah, God! The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>old story—I fell in love as I had fallen in friendship. It -had been sweet to me to look up and feel myself protected -by one like Lochore, stronger and better, as I -thought, than myself. I thought it was ineffably sweet -to find something so much weaker, so much smaller than -I; something I could protect, something that looked up -to me; brown eyes that seemed as true as they were deep—and -scarlet lips that could kiss with such innocently -ardent kisses....”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A fresh wave of anger swept through Ellinor’s veins. -There came to her an almost overpowering impulse to -spring to her feet, throw away her cloak and stand forth -in her scorn, in her pride of life, in her wholesome humanity. -Those unknown lips, those scarlet lips ... disowned -now as they were, had still power to sting her. But she -sat immovable, and let jealousy and love work their torture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You must think me mad,” cried David, with another -abrupt change, “to inflict the old story upon you, the -trite old story all the world knows. You know, Ellinor, -you know.” He now addressed her with a personal, almost -violent, directness. The matter seemed once more -to lie between him and her alone. “I loved her, and she -said she loved me. I was to make her my wife—my -wife! Lochore mocked first, then stormed. We had our -first quarrel; he swore he would prevent this madness. -I was strong against him with a new strength—the -strength of love against friendship.... Friendship! -I forgave him, because I thought I must forgive -such friendship! I left her. She wrote tender -letters. I was to claim her in a few weeks. Suddenly -I got a longing for her that could not be denied: a -poet’s longing—the poet that lies in the heart of every -lad of twenty! And then, do you need to be told how -there was murder done upon that poet, murder upon -the dreamer! upon his trust and his faith, upon his every -hold on life? Had it been but on his wretched flesh! -But that they let live!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>He now bent over her, a bitter laugh upon his lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There was a certain walk, Ellinor, sacred to our love. -All those weeks I had dreamed of it, of the primrose sky -and the meeting of our lips—in my ideal way!” He -laughed aloud. “I ran to it straight. I had not gone -two steps when I heard there on that consecrated spot, a -laugh. The sound of her laughter so much more joyous -than ever she had laughed for me—the sound of her -voice, high and bright. And mingling with it, in familiar -jests and tenderness the sound of a man’s voice——” -He stopped, and fixed her; then, once more drawing back, -laughed again: “I had thought it was consecrated -ground, you see!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His ironic fury, as yet contained, was so intently -pointed at herself that it could not but be revealing. -The reproach of betrayal, then, was not to the little brown -thing of the moor, but to her—to the great white woman!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Could it be possible? What insanity! And yet what -sweetness! He had known, then, of that infraction in their -own Herb-Garden this morning! Jealousy! There is -no jealousy without love ... oh, then, she could -forgive him all!</p> - -<p class='c012'>She rose, drawing a deep, joyous breath, and answered -the indictment as she had taken it to herself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what of it, David?” said she. Trembling upon -her lips was almost that surrender which it is a woman’s -pride never to offer. “What of it?” And she would -have added—“A woman cannot always be guardian of -the outer world, however consecrated she may hold certain -gardens. But so long as her heart remains inviolate, -so long as that remains consecrate, what does anything -else matter?” But he had quickly caught up her spoken -word with a fresh outburst of frenzy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What of it?” he echoed. “You may well ask the -question. Is it not a thing that happens every day? You -are right, the man who would live in the world must -close his ears to what is not meant for them; as he must -shut his eyes, no matter how flagrant the treachery, that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>is spread out before him. And then, no doubt, he may -find the world a vastly pleasant place. That is the proper -doctrine. Oh, and ’tis the natural one, for we are all made -cowards? I myself, when I heard, I ran from the sound. -I threw myself upon the moor that evening. I thrust -my fingers into my ears. I reasoned with myself against -what I knew was the truth—that is what people call -reason. And I said what you have said: What of it!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a moment’s silence. Then his voice rang -out once more:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But I could not!” He struck his breast. “I could -not. There is something here even now in this dead -heart of mine that must live in me as long as the spirit -is in me. The truth, the truth! I cannot lie to myself, I -cannot believe in another’s lies—I had heard, I must see. -I rose from the ground, it was drenched with dew. It -was night. Something led me, angel or demon. There -was fire-light leaping up against the window. I looked -in—I saw. Oh, you woman, turn away your false, compassionate -eyes, for one thing I have sworn that I will -never look on a woman’s treachery again!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David,” cried Ellinor again, “remember that I am -of your blood!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aye, of my blood. The mockery of fate is complete: -betrayed by friendship, betrayed by love, betrayed by my -own blood——!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes—Maud, my sister, that is my own blood, is it -not? Maud laughed, oh, she laughed! She came and -sat by the side of my bed, the wound that Lochore’s bullet -had made was yet green in my lung—for the memory of -our old friendship he could not even do me the mercy to -shoot straight—and she, my own sister ... my -blood! She was to marry the man whose hand was red -and whose soul was black, the man who had openly -flaunted about Town, as the latest Corinthian, the girl -that was to have been his friend’s bride, and boasted that -he had done me what he called the best service one man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>could do another. ‘Why, fool, you owe him eternal -gratitude,’ said Maud. It was a huge joke!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Terrified, Ellinor stood looking at him. If her pride -had allowed her to reason with him earlier, perhaps it -might have availed. Now she felt that any words of hers -would be worse than useless. As well try to reason away -ague or delirium.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My friend, my love, my kin, you see!” he cried. -“History repeats itself. You, you,” he came close to -her with a frenzied gesture as if to overwhelm her with -reproach, “you, my kin, you who came into my solitude -as my friend, you whom some blind madness has kept -whispering to me was to be my love, you would combine -in your single person the three traitors that stabbed my -youth!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She never knew if she had screamed, or if it was only -the cry of her heart that suddenly rang in her ears. But -she seized and clung to his descending hand as it would -have waved her from him for ever.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, no, David, no!” she repeated, the denegation in -a voice as frenzied as his own. And suddenly her ice of -pride melted and the tears came streaming from her eyes. -At the sight the man seemed to come back in some way -to his senses. The cold hand she held became more -human warm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tears?” he said in an altered voice. “Have I caused -you tears? Ah, don’t cry, Ellinor! I must not blame -you; it is only that the world is not made for me, nor I -for the world. Forgive me and forget. You are what -you are. I am what I am.” He drew his hand from hers, -turned his glance away. “To-night, as you sat, so resplendent, -so pleased with the flattery and the admiration -of these ... these creatures; so decked out, so -different, the scales fell away from my eyes. I saw the -new course of self-deception I had entered upon; and it -was very bitter. I have had no sleep this month. The -past has been brought back upon me. I knew that it -would be so—and dreaded it. Forgive me, Ellinor!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>He took her hand and led her, as he spoke, back into -the observatory and towards the stairs. She felt she -was being dismissed from her high place in his life.</p> - -<p class='c012'>When they reached the tower stair he said again: -“Forgive me, forget.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And as he spoke he dropped her hand. And she ran -from him into the shelter of the darkness.</p> - -<p class='c013'>She wept through the night. But, heavy as was the -darkness about her soul, in it shone one star at least. -Jealous! He was jealous ... and without love -there is no jealousy.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER VIII<br> <span class='large'>THE HERB EUPHROSINE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Had’st thou but shook thy head or made a pause</div> - <div class='line'>When I spake darkly ...</div> - <div class='line'>Or turned an eye of doubt upon my face</div> - <div class='line'>As bid me tell my tale in express words....</div> - <div class='line in26'>—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare</span> (<cite>King John</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Before her mirror the next morning Lady Lochore -sat wrapt in sullen thoughts, thoughts of impotent -anger, of failure, punctuated now and again by -glances at her own ravaged countenance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had dwelt in Bindon well-nigh her allotted month, -and she had accomplished nothing—unless an increase of -David’s eccentricity and a marked accentuation of his -antipathy towards herself could be reckoned a gain! The -sands were running low. But it was not the span of the -time that remained hers at Bindon (for she had no intention -of leaving of her own accord and hardly believed -the dreamer would find the energy to expel her, if, indeed, -he were even aware of the consummation of time)—it -was the span of her own life.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The sands were running very low. Meanwhile she -had not conciliated David, nor had she ousted Ellinor. -She had not even compromised her. Herrick was sighing -<i><span lang="fr">pour le bon motif</span></i> (young fool!) and in vain. Harcourt -<i><span lang="fr">roué</span></i> and duellist, “he who ought to have rid me,” thought -she, raging, “of one or the other in a week,” had made -no more progress than might old Villars himself. -“Lochore did his business better!” she said half-aloud, -and broke into a solitary laugh of inexpressible bitterness.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>There came a tap at the door and Margery entered. -Lady Lochore wheeled round, but it was idle to try and -read any tidings upon the housekeeper’s impassive face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well,” cried she, imperiously waving away the usual -morning inquiries. “Well, speak, woman! Have you -something to tell me at last?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed, my lady, very little. Everything is much as -usual. I am sorry to see your ladyship looking so ill. -There do seem to be sickness about the house this morning, -to be sure! Master Rickart indeed took to drugging -himself last night—though that’s nothing new—and -Barnaby sat up with him and lies in a dead sleep on the -mat this minute outside the laboratory door just like a -dog.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pshaw! Go on.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sir David, he was not himself yesterday, so Mr. Giles -tells me; and a bad night he had too. Eh! He paced that -platform, my lady, right through from midnight to dawn. -Not a wink of sleep did I have either with hearing -through the window the sound of his steps and knowing -him so tormented, poor gentleman! That was after Mrs. -Marvel had left him!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore struck the table with her beringed hand -and started to her feet.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Marvel!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery began to pleat a corner of her apron.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, my lady. She was up with him there on the -tower till nigh midnight.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“On the tower!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, yes, my lady. Not that that’s anything new -either. She used to be half the night with him sometimes. -But that was before your ladyship came. She -stopped going this last month. But last night—eh, my -lady, they did talk! I could hear the sound of their voices—she -has great power with Sir David—has Mrs. Marvel.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore sat down again. Her fingers closed on -the muslin of the dressing-table. Helplessly and hopelessly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>her haggard eyes looked forth into a black prospective. -Oh, she had failed—failed!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“’Tis indeed a sad day for Bindon,” said Margery -after a pause, as if in answer to Lady Lochore. “No -wonder your ladyship is anxious. There are times when -I do think we’ll have some dreadful catastrophe here. If -it’s nothing worse there’ll be an accident with them drugs, -as sure as fate. Master Rickart will be poisoning some -of the poor folk again, or himself, maybe, or, indeed, -it might be Mrs. Marvel, she that’s always in with him.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore started ever so slightly and turned round -sharply. Never had Margery looked more benevolent, -more virtuous.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, that’s what I do be saying to myself,” pursued -the housekeeper. “Somebody will be found dead, and -nobody to fix the blame on, with the way things are going -on.” (The pupils of Lady Lochore’s eyes narrowed like a -hawk’s.) “And when I see Mrs. Marvel going about, -so young and fresh and strong, and sure of herself:—‘Maybe -it will be you,’ thinks I.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, get away with you!” cried Lady Lochore, and -buried her head on her hands with a frenzied gesture.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“Shall we go and look through the bars into the little -paradise of poisons?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>When Colonel Harcourt had suddenly made this suggestion -to his friends, as they lay, in somewhat discontented -mood, under the shade of the spreading cedar tree -this oppressive summer day, he had cast a meaning glance -towards Lady Lochore and she had risen with alacrity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Excellent!” she cried, when at the forbidden gate -Harcourt produced the key with a flourish.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She knew of David’s difference with the colonel on the -previous day; and though it had sunk into insignificance -before the news of Ellinor’s return to the tower, she was -now as the drowning creature that clutches at straws-Colonel -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>Harcourt was a noted shot. And she clapped her -hands when the gate rolled back on its hinges. She had -no need to be told that the dangerous Mrs. Marvel was -busy among the herbs within.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick, moodily striding beside the Dishonourable -Caroline, gave but the most perfunctory ear to a discourse -upon the inductions to be drawn from a partner’s -first play of trumps—with especial reference to certain -crimes of his own committed the previous night. He -started as he saw Harcourt’s action.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No—no!” he exclaimed. “I understand that this -would be an indiscretion.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You will perhaps allow me,” said Harcourt blandly, -“to make use of a key delivered over by no less a person -than our host himself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mr. Herrick thinks it more discreet to climb over the -wall!” suggested Priscilla. She had a happy faculty -for being spiteful with a rosebud look of innocence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What, Luke!” cried Lady Lochore, seizing the young -man by the arm and dragging him towards the entrance, -“so cast down! Was the fair widow then hard of approach -to-day? Pluck up heart, lad. What! You a -poet, you a little nephew of the original Herrick, and not -know that when a woman assumes the defensive she is -just considering the question of surrender? Why, what -a lady this is! Eh, Priscilla, poor you and poor me must -hide our diminished heads!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She broke into a jeering laugh as the girl crimsoned and -tossed her chin; her great hollow eyes danced, brighter -even that those of the lover in his renewed confidence; -her cheeks flamed a deeper scarlet than those of the mortified -girl herself. She sketched a favorite gavotte step -or two, as she gave her hand with a flourish to Colonel -Harcourt that he might lead her across the forbidden -threshold.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor, seated on the stone bench, with her empty -basket before her, staring with unseeing eyes at the little -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>bluish stars that spread all over the bed where flourished -the herb Euphrosine, was suddenly disturbed from her -melancholy musing.</p> - -<p class='c012'>These loud voices, this trivial laughter! By what freak -of irresponsible folly were these few roods of ground -(which now she had as much interest to keep inviolate, -as ever Vestal virgin to keep her flame alive) to be again -invaded? The intruders were actually in the garden: and -no spot of it was hidden from David’s tower! She had -just been chiding herself for her thoughtlessness of the -previous day in permitting for a moment Herrick’s uninvited -presence; for her light-mindedness in having found -transient amusement in his company. Had she now failed -again in faithfulness, was it possible that she could have -omitted to lock the gate behind her? She hurriedly felt -for her key; it hung on the ribbon of her apron. Then -she rose upon an impulse: David had made her guardian -here, she would keep the trust.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With head held high and with determined step, she -went to meet them. She lifted her voice boldly as she -came within speaking distance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Lady Lochore, if you found the gate open, this garden -is none the less forbidden to visitors, by your brother’s -wish. I must beg you all to leave it!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore, her white teeth gleaming between her -parted lips, her deep eyes insolently fixed upon her cousin’s -face, listened without a word. Then:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“<i><span lang="fr">Calmez-vous, ma chère</span></i>,” said she, “the gate was -opened for us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Chide me!” Colonel Harcourt thrust his handsome -presence to the front. “It would be sweet to be chidden -by those rosy lips. The next best thing, I declare, to -being——” He paused, let his eye finish the phrase with -bold suggestion, and then concluded humourously, with -an almost farcical hesitation and change of tone: “praised -by them!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a new freedom in his manner and Ellinor -was prompt to feel it. She remembered as with a dim -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>sense of nightmare those burning glances, unnoticed then, -which had fixed her last night. What had she done to -forfeit the respect even of this hitherto courteous and -kindly gentleman? She stepped back as he approached -and looked at him icily.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Whether you opened the gate or found it opened, I -must repeat, Colonel Harcourt, that your presence here -is a breach of courtesy—to your host and to me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Smiling, Colonel Harcourt opened his mouth to speak. -But Lady Lochore intervened.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How well you know my brother’s mind, Mrs. Marvel!” -she jeered. “But you see, even men change their -minds sometimes. Colonel Harcourt, show the lady with -whose key you opened the gate.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sir David’s own key,” confirmed the colonel blandly, -as he held it aloft. “We are not quite the trespassers -you think.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David gave it to you?” Her eyes were dark with -trouble as she said the words, less as a question than as -if she were setting forth her own grief. Harcourt did -not answer for a moment. Then, slipping the key into -his pocket with a laugh:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gave?” he cried. “Gave is hardly the word. He -abandoned it to me. People change their minds, as my -lady says. Sir David may once have wished to keep -this curious spot sacred to himself——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And to Mistress Marvel, but now you may all eat -the forbidden fruit!” cried Lady Lochore, with a glance -first at the three men and then at Ellinor. “Sir David -has at last found that it is not worth keeping to himself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick, quick to perceive that Ellinor was being baited -yet unable to gather the clue to the purpose which seemed -to underlie her tormentor’s words, now came forward.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But surely,” he urged, blushing ingenuously, “it is -enough for us if Mrs. Marvel does not wish our presence.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Almost before Lady Lochore’s hard laugh had time to -ring out, Ellinor answered:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, no,” she said. The exceeding bitterness of her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>humiliation drew down the lips that tried to smile. -“Pray, what can it be to me? I was only guardian. I -am relieved of my trust.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She made a sort of little curtsey, half-ironic. And then -moved away from them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But she was not destined to carry her bursting heart -to solitude this morning.—Master Simon, his white hair -fluttering, the tassel of his velvet cap swinging, the skirts -of his dressing-gown flapping as he advanced with a high -jerky step quite unlike his usual slow shuffling gait, -emerged from the shade of the yew-tree, even as she -stood on the threshold of the gate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>One glance at his wildly-lighted eye and the flush on -his cheek bones, sufficed to convince Ellinor of the cause -of this extraordinary infraction of his rule of life. He -was still under the influence of the last night’s drug; or, -worse still perhaps, of some new one. He waved his arm -at her and at the group beyond.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Admit me among you, ladies!” he cried, in a high -thin tone. “I will tell you all great news! Daughter, -child, this hour strikes a new era in the world’s history! -The herb Euphrosine has given me back my youth!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And, to complete the fantastic scene, Belphegor, every -hair bristling, tail erect, eyes aflame with green phosphorescence, -sprang from the bushes and performed a wild -saraband around his master, uttering uncouth little cries.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon broke into shrill laughter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ask Belphegor if we have not found the secret of -youth restored!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER IX<br> <span class='large'>AN OMINOUS JINGLE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Within the infant rind of this weak flower</div> - <div class='line'>Poison hath residence, and medicine power.</div> - <div class='line in14'>—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare</span> (<cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The old man good-humouredly, but firmly, resisted -his daughter’s anxious endeavours to lead him -back to his room. He entered the garden, established -himself on the bench, and, waving a branch -of the beloved herb to emphasise his words, embarked -upon a profuse discourse upon its properties. The -others gathered round him in curiosity and amusement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor could not leave him a prey to the freakish -humours of the company at such a moment. His brain -seemed to work with an extraordinary clarity and vigour, -his worn frame seemed to have regained an energy and -elasticity it could not have known these twenty years. -And the contrast between his aspect of æthereal age and -the youthful exuberance of joy now written on his features -struck her as alarming in the extreme.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her anxiety was not lessened when Master Simon now -wound up his first oration by proclaiming that, after -various long hours of work, he had at last extracted so -pure an essence of the <em>Euphrosine</em> that one drop had sufficed -to produce this result upon himself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then, surely, father,” she cried, “you have prepared -a dangerous drug! Out of its beneficence you must have -drawn a deadly poison——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore had seated herself on the bench on the -other side of the old student. She evinced a great interest -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>in his remarks; encouraged him by exclamation, laughter -and question to further garrulity. At Ellinor’s words -she lifted her head with a sudden quick movement, like -that of a stag on the alert. And into her eyes flashed a -look so eager, and so evil, that she herself, in consciousness -of it, instantly dropped the lids over them. She felt -Harcourt’s glance upon her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Poison,” said she, feigning to yawn. “Oh, fie! then -I’ll have none of your remedy.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Priscilla, idly turning the pages of the “Gerard” -which Ellinor had left out of her hand on the sundial, -stood silent, shooting glances by turns at Harcourt and -Herrick. The former, standing with folded arms behind -Ellinor, the latter, lying stretched on the hot soil at her -feet, seemed too thoroughly content with their posts to -be lured from them. But at Ellinor’s exclamation, the -little circle had been stirred.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Poison?” echoed Master Simon in his turn. “Tush! -Ellinor, I am ashamed of you! By this time you should -know better. Is not every medicine, nay, every distilled -spirit, poison in certain degrees? And how about Opium? -How about Digitalis, Aconite and Laurel, Mercury and -Antimony? Pooh! What need of names?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Even in love a poison lies!” murmured Herrick, and -looked up languishingly at Ellinor’s unseeing face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No doubt,” said Harcourt, in a most indifferent voice, -“so wise a philosopher as Master Simon always locks -up his poisons!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Child,” pursued the old man, “I tell you, this herb -which was lost to the world, but which you yourself found -again, planted and nurtured, is destined to be the greatest -boon mankind has yet known! The older students had -some hints of its powers, some glimmering of its uses. -But it wanted the resources of modern methods of modern -chemistry to develop them. I have now reduced its -essence to the most convenient form. A drop, one drop a -day—ah, ladies and gentlemen, farewell to all your miseries!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>“Is it not wonderful!” cried Lady Lochore. She -clasped her hands and looked keenly at the old man; and -he, anxious to improve the occasion upon so earnest a -believer and so interesting a case for experiment, now -gave her his undivided attention.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor, with a sigh of impatience, rose, and, taking -up her basket, proceeded to her neglected work of plant -gathering, here and there consulting a pencilled list that -was pinned to the handle. Herrick was promptly at her -side.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What are you going to make of those?” he asked, -plucking in his turn a leaf from every plant that her scissors -had visited.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A febrifuge for an old woman in the village. It is -promised for to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>“And if I do—I have half a mind to come into your -den and let you give it to me yourself—what effect could -one drop have on me?” Lady Lochore was saying. And -the old man answered:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It would arrest the disease that is ravaging your -strength and at the same time stimulate your nerves; so -that, waste ceasing, all the energies of your body would -unite in building up strength and health again.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How truly delightful!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Your restlessness would vanish. This morbid mental -condition, which is so apparent, would become replaced -by a calm, cheerful, contented frame of mind—like -mine!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Sir! How my friends would bless you!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In the course of a few months——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Months? La! I can’t wait months. I’ll have five -drops a day.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“God forbid! That would defeat its own end. To -stimulate is one thing, but to over-excite——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Would five drops over-excite me?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indubitably. If one has already so potently invigorating -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>an effect, five drops would produce a most undesirable -condition of mental super-excitement—most undesirable!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then ten drops?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Colonel Harcourt,” cried Priscilla pettishly, “pray -come to my rescue: there’s a wasp on my book!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The colonel obeyed the summons, but without any extraordinary -alacrity; Lady Lochore’s conversation with -Master Simon was unexpectedly interesting.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ten drops?” Master Simon was explaining. “Madness -probably. More than ten, paralysis, no doubt. -Twenty? Oh, twenty would be stillness for evermore—Death!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Having duly murdered the wasp, Colonel Harcourt was -chagrined to find that the new student of pharmacopœia -seemed to have already had enough of her lesson. She -had risen to her feet and was standing deeply reflective. -Her great eyes were roaming from side to side, yet unseeing. -Her lips were moving noiselessly. He went up -to her. An unusual gravity was upon his smooth countenance. -He bent to her ear:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What are you saying to yourself?” he whispered.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She started, flashed round half in anger, half in mockery; -then their glances met and her face grew hard.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I was merely conning over to myself,” answered she, -“our dear old necromancer’s last pregnant utterance; it -sounds like a popular rhyme:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>One drop gladness,</div> - <div class='line'>Ten drops madness,</div> - <div class='line'>Twice ten a living death</div> - <div class='line'>After that no more breath.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>Have I not put it into a useful jingle for you?” she -cried, interpellating the old man.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Master Simon, deeply absorbed in watching -Belphegor, as the beast stretched and yawned and rolled -restlessly in the sun, never turned his head. Colonel -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>Harcourt laid a finger on her wrist, and drew her away -from the others.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What are you planning now?” he asked, in the same -repressed undertone as before.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Planning?” she echoed, and crossed his searching -gaze with one of stormy defiance. “Oh, my dear confidant, -do you not know all my inmost secrets? <i><span lang="fr">Dieu</span></i>, how -you stare! Two drops gladness, ten drops madness. Let -me give you some of the stimulant—say three drops—’twould -stir your sluggish wits. Do, I pray you, accompany -me to the laboratory, and with these fair hands -I will measure you a dose from the magic phial. Oh, -how Master Simon will love me if I bring him a new -patient! Believe me, it will do you a vast service, my -dear sir, you have grown dull and slow of late—very -slow.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Out of her laughing face her eyes looked fiercely. He -walked away from her; paused, with his back upon them -all, to ponder. Then he frowned, and after that shrugged -his shoulders.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What a fool you are, Antony Harcourt,” said he to -himself, “to have let yourself be mixed up with this -woman’s business! I vow you’ll pack!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore had returned to the bench and was again -sitting beside Master Simon, and once more brooding. -Tragedy was writ in large letters all over her wasted, -death-stricken figure. Above all things the colonel hated -tragedy. Violent emotions were so ill-bred, tiresome. -What could not be accomplished with a gentlemanly ease, -that, by the Lord, was not for him! A love intrigue, well -and good. And if there were tears at the end of it, so -long as they were not shed upon his waistcoat—and none -knew better how to avoid that—here was your man. But -when it came to—“By Gad!” thought Colonel Harcourt, -with fresh emphasis, “the place is getting too hot for -me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And back again he came to his resolution; this time -fixed.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>“I will take my leave of all this to-night. But, faith! -I’ll part friends with the pretty widow.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>After her spasmodic fashion Lady Lochore now suddenly -resumed her wild humours. She smiled as she -saw how the two cavaliers were now again in close attendance -upon Ellinor; smiled at the deserted Priscilla; -and finally, at the sight of two figures approaching from -the direction of the entrance, broke into open laughter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>David in the strange comradeship of Villars!</p> - -<p class='c012'>David, jealous and wrathful, coming to rescue his invaded -garden, suspicious of Ellinor’s faithlessness—a -possible quarrel! For the mere mischief of it, it was -enough to make Lady Lochore laugh. And laugh she did.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER X<br> <span class='large'>A VAGUE DESPERATE SCHEME</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Now let it work: mischief thou art afoot!</div> - <div class='line'>Take thou what course thou wilt.</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare</span> (<cite>Julius Cæsar</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>“Ah, David,” cried Master Simon, in excited -greeting, “you come very well to complete -our pleasant party—you come well! ’Tis the -red-letter day in the calendar of my life. See that flourishing -growth?” He waved his spray in the direction of -the parent bed. “It is bearing fruit, lad! Seed of -health, for the future generation! My long life has borne -its fruit at last! Euphrosine ... Gladsome Wort ... Etoile-de-Bon-Secours ... Star-of-Comfort -indeed! Behold a more useful constellation than -any of yours, aha! I can cry <em>Eureka</em>! I can sing <i><span lang="la">Nunc -dimittis</span></i>. ’Tis the Elixir of Genius!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David threw a wondering glance at his old friend, -but was arrested before he could speak in reply. Miss -Priscilla put out her hand in shy greeting. (Sir David -and she had never exchanged but a bow before; but it -was quite evident that retiring people could not get on -in this world.) David, taking off his wide-brimmed hat, -bowed mechanically over the little hand, and Priscilla -looked quickly up as he bent over her. But as she looked, -she shrunk back. She could not have believed that any -one should be so pale and yet be alive and walk abroad -and smile. She flew to Herrick’s side and caught his -arm upon the impulse of the moment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, Miss Pris?” said the young poet. If his eyes -were not lover-like, they were kind; his cheek was ruddy-brown, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>his lip was red. Priscilla clung to the sturdy arm -she had captured.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It’s never you, my brother?” cried Lady Lochore. -“What brings you among us frivolous humans at this -unwonted hour? Have you come to turn us out of -paradise with a flaming sword?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor, who had been anxiously gazing at David, -thrust herself forward in a manner quite unlike her -usual reserve.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David,” she cried, “you are ill!” She laid her -hand a second upon his. “Father,” she went on, turning -round appealingly, “do you not see? Cousin David is -ill.” And as Master Simon took no heed, but rambled on -in fresh rhapsodies, she and David remained a moment as -if alone.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They had your key, David,” she said, speaking -rapidly, “and forced their way in. I have never opened -the gate of our garden to a human being since you and I -were here together.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He turned to her, and seemed to bring, from a great -distance, his mind to bear upon her words. Then his -eyes softened, became almost tender as they rested upon -her face. After a little pause, during which he was quite -oblivious of the curious looks cast from all sides upon -him, he answered in a low voice:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you. I think I understand now.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then he turned—bracing himself in mind and body—and -swept the company with the gaze of the master and -the host.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I forgot my key in the gate, it seems, and you all -took advantage of the circumstance—Oh, pray, not a -word, Colonel Harcourt! Indeed, Mr. Herrick, do not -misunderstand me. I should be infringing the most -elementary tenets of hospitality did I wish to deny such -honoured guests when it seems they had set their hearts -on so trifling a pleasure. Pray remain in the garden, -pray use it as much as you wish—to-day. I have no -doubt,” he went on with a sarcastic smile, “that you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>will all be heartily sick of it before nightfall. Meanwhile, -since to-morrow sees the end of your visit to my -house, I am the more glad to gratify you in this instance.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a slight pause. Harcourt exchanged a look -with Herrick and shrugged his shoulders; then he turned -his glance towards Lady Lochore. Her face was livid, -but for the hectic patch on either cheek.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A <i><span lang="fr">congé</span></i>, as neatly given as ever I heard!” whispered -Herrick to Priscilla, while his cheek reddened.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Very courteous, very courteous indeed!” cried Villars -in his cracked voice, making two or three quick -bows in Sir David’s direction.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My sister,” said David, taking up his unfinished -thread of speech, in the same decided tone, “was good -enough to promise me a month out of her gay existence. -I should be indeed ungrateful if I did not appreciate the -manner in which she has brought so much life and animation -into our seclusion, and I must be deeply indebted -to her for the well-chosen company she has collected for -this purpose under my roof.” Here he made a grave -inclination in which his astonished guests were all included. -“But all good things come to an end; and to-morrow -will see Bindon deserted of its lively guests, see -us resuming the former quiet tenor of our lives with what -heart we may.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He smiled again as he concluded.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick, in boyish huff, walked abruptly off with Priscilla -still on his arm. Villars followed in their wake, -anxious to discuss so extraordinary a situation. Lady -Lochore wheeled round and caught Harcourt by the arm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tony, will you submit to such treatment?” she -whispered fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c012'>For a moment Harcourt looked at her, with a curious -green gleam in his eye:—the affable <i><span lang="fr">roué</span></i> was also -“something of a tiger,” as David’s sister had not forgotten. -But the next instant he shrugged his shoulders -and detached himself from her grasp with some show -of annoyance. Ellinor stood beside her cousin, face uplifted, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>pride of him, joy for herself exulting within her. -But David suddenly put his hands to his forehead:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If I do not get some sleep at last,” he murmured -with a distraught air, “I shall go mad!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Father,” she cried sharply once more alarmed. “Look -to David, he is ill!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon woke up this time like the hound to the -sound of the horn, and came forward with quite a new -expression of acuteness and gravity on his face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And, by my faith!” exclaimed Lady Lochore, in -fury, “this passes endurance! With your leave, Mrs. -Marvel, if David is unwell, he has his sister to see to -him.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She pushed past Master Simon, who, however, put -her back with a decided hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“One minute, Madam, this good lad will be seen to -by him who has done so these many years—and in much -graver circumstances, as you may remember.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Abashed, yet still raging, she stood back.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A trifle of fever,” said the simpler, shooting scrutiny -at his patient’s face from under his drawn bushy eyebrows. -“Hot and cold, flame and shiver? Eh, eh. I -can read you like a book. Never has my insight been -clearer. We’ll make you a draught, we’ll have you a -new man. Ellinor shall brew you an anodyne. Eh, what? -Come now, you’ll have to drink it. What’s that?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David was speaking, but not to Master Simon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will drink it if she gives it to me,” he said dreamily. -It was to Ellinor he turned.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And perhaps a drop—eh, child?—just one drop of -the Elixir!” continued the old man, ruminating and -chuckling again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not one,” said Ellinor to herself. “Vervaine and -violet, and perhaps one poppy head.” “David,” she pursued -aloud, “no hand but mine shall mix this cup.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And, with a swift foot she departed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The Elixir?” exclaimed Lady Lochore, taking up -Master Simon’s word; and seizing a fold of his gown -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>pulled at it like a spoiled child to force his attention. -“Don’t forget you have promised me first some of that -marvellous remedy. Look at me! Don’t you think I -want a new lease of life? The present one is pretty well -run out anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She tried to smile, but her lips only twitched convulsively. -There was desperation in her eye. Master -Simon, instantly bestowing upon her the concentrated, -almost loving, attention which a willing patient never -failed to arouse in him, noted these symptoms, those of a -soul well nigh as mortally sick as the body; noted them -with joyous confidence. The greater the need the greater -the triumph. What a subject for the grand panacea!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, you’ll give me a little bottle. You’ll give me -some, now, into my hands—now—dear cousin!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will myself measure you what is required, myself -watch!” replied Simon. “Then, after I——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She broke in upon his complacent speech.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Don’t you know that we are turned out to-morrow!” -she screamed. “Have you not heard David dismissing -his dying sister from her father’s door!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Sir David, slowly moving in Ellinor’s wake, never -even turned his head at this wild cry. Lady Lochore -caught herself back with surprising strength of will.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Supposing you were to take me to your mysterious -room now—old Rickart?” she wheedled. “Since we -have so little time, the sooner the better to begin this -magic treatment. I’ve never been in that room of yours, -you know, since I was a brat—I do want my little -bottle!” she reiterated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The simpler was flattered by her words to the choicest -fibre of his soul. The mental intoxication had got hold -of him once more. She was right, a thousand times right! -She knew better than that lunatic brother of hers. The -first maxim of all intelligent existence was to take the -good that came, and without delay. Delay, delay! More -lives lost, more discoveries lost, empires lost, souls lost by -hesitation than by any other crime.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>She hooked her arm in his gaily.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To your cavern we will go!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Half ways towards the house, Colonel Harcourt suddenly -drew alongside with Sir David. They were -separated from the rest of the company by the turn of -the path. The guest spoke twice before he could awaken -his host’s attention to his proximity. But the second -interpellation was so peremptory that David started from -his fevered abstraction and came to a halt, with an angry -look and very much alive to the occasion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, Colonel Harcourt?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The colonel was, on the instant, his urbane self once -more.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Forgive my interrupting you in the midst of your -lofty cogitations; but, as it is my purpose to leave your -hospitable house to-day, and not to-morrow, I will even -say farewell to my genial entertainer, and proffer my -thanks for a hearty welcome and a no less hearty speeding.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Farewell, then, sir,” said David coldly. “Yet one -word more, before we part,” he added, with sternness: -“If hosts have duties toward their guests, Colonel Harcourt—you -have reminded me of it—do not yourself -forget again that guests have a duty toward their hosts. -That key, of which you unwarrantably——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A lesson, sir? By Heaven!——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“May you take it so, Colonel Harcourt.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The colonel’s face became purple, but Sir David was -angry too: and the white heat is even more deadly than -the red. The guardsman, actor in endless honourable encounters, -had learned to know his match when he met -him; and, as the beast passion within him cooled to -merely human pitch, he was seized with a kind of grudging -admiration. Here he could no longer sneer and contend. -Nay, here, as a gentleman, he must show himself -worthy of his antagonist.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>Bowing his still crimson face with as good a grace -as he could assume:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then, no farewell yet, Sir David; to our next meeting,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The lord of Bindon raised his hat and passed on whilst -his guest remained standing.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XI<br> <span class='large'>A PARLOUR OF PERFUME</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>O magic sleep! O comfortable bird</div> - <div class='line'>That broodest o’er the troubled sea of the mind,</div> - <div class='line'>Till it is hushed and smooth!...</div> - <div class='line in30'>—<span class='sc'>Keats</span> (<cite>Endymion</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The atmosphere of Master Simon’s laboratory was -much the same, winter or summer. No extreme -of heat or cold could penetrate this crypt, deep -set as it was in the foundations of the keep; and, though -against the long narrow windows, cut into the wall on -the level of the moat, one could see the slender spikes -of reed and rushy grass perpetually trembling in the -airs, there was but little direct sunshine. Sometimes, -however, downward thrusts, like spears, when Sol was -high; or again when he was about to sink a level shaft, -rose-red in winter, amber glowing in summer, would -come driving in through the vaulted spaces, high above -Master Simon’s head and show to the eye that cared to -notice, how dim and vapour-heavy was all the room -below.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The two fires then came not amiss. Despite the flame -on the open hearth and the glow of the little furnace, -Lady Lochore, as she entered, shivered after the hot -sunshine.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How dark it is with you!” she cried. “And what -strange odours! Ha! It smells of poison here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To treat the unknown as unwholesome is the animal -instinct,” said the chemist, didactically, with a glance of -contempt. “How differently does it affect the intellectual -being! Fortunately it is in man’s power to extract good -or bad from everything. Listen! Every one of those -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>little apparatus simmering over yonder is yielding up -juices for healing. Did I choose, child—there might indeed -be death in those retorts; just as there is death -in fire and water, in air and in sun. These things are -our servants, and we use them. Poison! How you -women prate of poison! Timorous souls!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I, prate of poison?” exclaimed Lady Lochore. “I, -timorous! Where is my phial, sir? Oh, I’ll show you -if I am afraid!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She advanced upon him swiftly through the half light -to which her eyes had not yet become accustomed, and -instantly belied her own words by a violent start and -scream. Out of the recess where murmured the furnace -fires, Barnaby illumined by the lurid glow, with elf locks -hanging and face and hands blackened, suddenly -emerged in his peculiar noiseless fashion; on his shoulder -was Belphegor still all a-bristle and with phosphorescent -eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you keep devils here, too?” she screeched.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The dumb boy made an inarticulate sound and stared -at the lady. Who shall say the thoughts that revolved in -that brain relentlessly shut off from communion with -the rest of the world? In those beings who are deprived -of certain senses the remaining wits seem often to become -proportionately acute! Nobody could walk so -softly, touch so gently as Barnaby; and nobody could -see so swiftly, so deeply. He started back in his turn -and glowered. This was the first time he had looked -into the visitor’s face; her hectic cheek, her roving eyes, -her eager teeth glimmering between ever parted lips—they -liked him not. Or, perhaps, who can say, it was the -soul behind those eyes that liked him not.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon chuckled.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Poisons and devils!... my good Herbs! My -faithful Barnaby! A deaf and dumb lad, my dear, nothing -more! But we shall have these nerves of yours in -vastly different trim, even before the day is out. Come -here to the table and sit you down. Nay, now, if you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>laugh like that, how can we discuss in reason, how can -I trust you with this precious stuff?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore made a violent effort to repress the -nervous tremor that still shook her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“When I’ve had my first dose,” she said, artfully, -“I shall be so much better that you will trust me with -anything.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>This betokened so excellent a spirit that Master Simon -could not be expected to show further disapproval. How -could he, indeed, feeling in his own veins a new ichor of -life, in his own brain an increased lucidity, in his temper -so grand a mood of confidence and decision? He had -seated the lady in his own chair and was seeking in the -press for the new essence, when Barnaby arrested his -attention by a timid hand. The lad pointed significantly -to the cat which he was now nursing against his breast. -Master Simon glanced at the animal’s staring coat, its -protruding eye, noted the quick breathing and touched -the hot ear. Belphegor growled fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The old man’s countenance became clouded for a moment; -a shade as of misgiving crept into his eye.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come, come cousin,” rose the complaining note of his -new patient’s voice; and Master Simon waved Barnaby -away with peremptory gesture.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The boy slunk back with his burden and the simpler -lifted the precious phial from its shelf.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Here,” said he, bearing it over to the table with infinite -care, and admiring its orange colour against the -light, “here is the Elixir.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>When Ellinor came down the steps into the laboratory, -she found her father still holding forth in the highest -good humour, and Lady Lochore listening with bent -head in an attitude of profound attention. At the sound -of her step he broke off with an excited laugh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aha, Ellinor, the cure has begun! She’s better, she’s -better already. Look at her. Ah, you doubted, you, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>my daughter, you who worked with me side by side! -Out on you, you of little faith! This is to be my best -case. In a month’s time you will see what you will see.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore had risen from her chair and, fixing -Ellinor with unfathomable looks, in the same measure as -she drew nearer drew slowly back herself.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“By the lord, to see her come, in her hateful youth -and strength, in her pride—and I, I to have failed!” -These were the words of the interior voice. With a -convulsive movement she lifted her hand, pressed the -little phial where it lay against the wasted bosom. And -the pain of that pressure was, of a sudden, fierce joy. -Failed? Not yet! Her glorious boy was not to go a -beggar whilst such creatures as that rode!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Like a tingling fire the exultation of that single drop -of magic cordial began to course through her. She had -hated Ellinor before she knew her, with the instinctive -hatred of the destined enemy. The instant she had set -eyes upon the fresh face, the placid brow, the serious -quiet eyes, this instinctive hatred had surged into a living -passion that was like a wild beast ever ready to spring. -And if now she were to slip the leash and let the leopard -go, who could punish her, dying woman as she was? -What evil would it bring upon her, were it ever known? -Aye, who would ever be the wiser (as Margery said) in -this house of craziness where people dabbled with unknown -poisons at their own fantasy?</p> - -<p class='c012'>Thus the muttering voice within. Then it was hushed -upon the silence of a resolution.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Lady Lochore,” said Ellinor, “I must warn you, that -drug is not safe!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Be silent!” exclaimed Master Simon, angrily.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore did not answer, for she was seized with -laughter.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear father,” insisted Ellinor. She had come round -to the old man and had laid her hand caressingly upon -his shoulder, “I have nothing but mistrust for your new -Elixir. You have taught me too much for me not to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>realise its danger. If you were not now under its influence -yourself, I know you would see it too. Even a -mere infusion of the leaves has so strange an effect, that -I have ceased—forgive me, dear—to let the villagers -have it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The simpler threw off her touch in high displeasure.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A woman all over!” he muttered. “Fool indeed that -I was to think there could be an exception to the ineptitude -of the sex! A pretty helpmate for a man of science! -But I went myself to the village to-day. Aye!” the -fanatic light once more shone under the white eyebrows. -“There were many who needed it. Wait, Ellinor, wait! -My discovery shall speak for itself—shall refute——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Good God!” cried Mrs. Marvel, aghast, and turned -instinctively to Lady Lochore, “what will be the outcome -of this?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore laughed again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Marvel,” she gibed, “has developed all of a -sudden a mighty dread of scientific investigation. Out -upon such paltry spirit! She should take a lesson by -my valour, should she not, most wise and excellent -alchemist? And if a little mistake does occur now and -again, ’tis but the more instructive, all in the interest of -mankind. Now, Mistress Marvel, would not that console -you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Still clasping her hand over the phial in her breast, -Lady Lochore now moved towards the door—slowly, for -the little voice within was beginning to speak again, and -she had to listen as she went. There was a new jingle -rustling in her brain:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Ten drops madness</div> - <div class='line'>Twenty stillness,</div> - <div class='line'>And after that ... blackness!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>It should be easy!... Yes, it should be easy ... -in a dish of tea! What a round throat the hussy has!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, father,” said Ellinor’s clear voice, “I must see -to David’s sleeping draught.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>Lady Lochore in the doorway started and turned round. -All at once a light shone into her brain as if some invisible -hand had turned the lens of a lantern upon it: -David’s sleeping draught—David.... Of course! -How clear the whole thing lay before her! She had -been about to be clumsy, stupid, inartistic. But now.... -Oh, truly this one drop of the old man’s Elixir -had been a drop of genius.... “The secret of -genius,” had the old man said! Ellinor—what of Ellinor! -Merely a thing in the way; a stone to trip up the step -of her son’s fate. Throw it aside, and who shall say how -soon another might not cast the beloved lad to earth? -Aye, and when she would not be there to help. David—it -was David!... Who could reckon on the doings -of such a madman as David now this wooing mood -had been started?</p> - -<p class='c012'>Presently, with slow steps, she came down the room -once more.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor, bending over her fragrant infusion, felt a -shadowing presence and looked round, to find Lady -Lochore at her shoulder. It was in the dim and vapoury -corner behind the screen lit only by the glow of the charcoal. -An impression of gleaming eyes and of teeth from -which the lips were drawn back for one moment troubled -her vaguely; but the next she was full of pity. “Poor -creature! How ill she is, and how restless!” she -thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Is that the stuff?” inquired Lady Lochore, laughing -aimlessly like a mischievous child. And Mrs. Marvel -answered her gently, as if it had been indeed a child who -questioned:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, does it not smell sweet? An old recipe, ‘The -Good Woman’s Brew’; Vervaine, Red Lavender and -Violet, Thyme, Camphire, and a sprig of Basil.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She now placed the vessel on a low shelf close at hand, -and began deftly lifting out the sodden herbs with a glass -rod. Little jets of aromatic steam rose and circled about -her. Lady Lochore followed her, and once again bent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>over her shoulder. Barnaby seated, cross-legged, in the -darkest corner near the furnace and nursing humpy -Belphegor, stared at the two women with all the might -of his wistful eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What are you doing?” asked Lady Lochore.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Surely you see: clearing these grosser leaves away -before finally straining.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, let me!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor laid down the rod and looked at the speaker -with mingled surprise and anxiety. “I hope in Heaven,” -she was thinking, “that my father has given her no more -than the one drop.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do let me,” insisted Lady Lochore and laid a burning -finger on the other’s cool hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, certainly if it pleases you. Meanwhile I will -get the cup,” said Ellinor and turned away.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had hardly had time to take down the chosen -goblet from a cupboard, when there came a strange and -sudden uproar from behind the screen.—A growl like -that of a wild beast from Barnaby, a snarl from Belphegor, -a wild shriek from Lady Lochore.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Help, help!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor sprang to the rescue. But her father had already -forestalled her. When she reached the spot he -was in the act of plucking the dumb boy’s great hands -from Lady Lochore’s throat. Lady Lochore was talking -volubly, in a high hysterical voice, between laughing and -crying:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He’s mad, I think! These afflicted creatures are -never safe! He wants to murder me. I was just stirring -David’s potion, as she told me, and he sprang on me like -an ape. Ah, God! I am nearly strangled! Fortunately,” -she added, with a shrieking laugh, “David’s -precious potion is safe!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had been clasping both hands over her breast, and -now rapidly passing one hand over the other, drew the -folds of her kerchief closer about her throat; for glancing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>down, she had seen a small yellow stain upon the lace, and -quickly covered it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But what can have happened?” exclaimed Ellinor, -“Barnaby is the gentlest creature....”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Gentle, however, seemed hardly a word to apply to the -lad at the moment. Struggling in Master Simon’s grasp, -mouthing, gesticulating, uttering ghastly sounds, Barnaby -seemed indeed to justify Lady Lochore’s epithet—mad.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“He must be shut up!” cried Master Simon, and, -with unwonted harshness, shook the boy as he led him -away by the collar.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now Barnaby crouched down and whimpered. The -old man paused:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It’s possible he may have been at my drugs,” said he, -looking at his servant curiously. “So—it will be interesting -to watch. I will make the rogue show me by -and by which it is he has been after. Strange! That -would be the first time!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For God’s sake, lock him up, lock him up!” screamed -Lady Lochore, suddenly breaking into fury. “One’s -life’s not safe in this lunatic asylum, between your potions -and your idiots. Lock him up, I say, or I’ll not dare -trust myself alone another minute. I ought to be thankful, -surely,” she turned sneering upon Ellinor, “that -David’s hospitality ends for us to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come, come,” said Master Simon, as if the afflicted -creature could hear him. So deep engrained was the -habit of submissiveness, that it needed but the pressure -of the old man’s finger to lead the culprit to the little -room off the laboratory. Master Simon pointed with his -finger and Barnaby crawled in, much as a dog retires -to his kennel against his will, pausing to cast imploring -glances back. But as the chemist closed the door and -turned the key, there came a fresh outburst from within, -followed by a muffled sound of sobs and cries.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Master Simon stood a moment with reflective eye, muttering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>to himself: he had an unwilling notion that the -famous Euphrosinum Elixir might have something to -say to these unpleasant symptoms.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Sir David came into the laboratory. He was seeking -Ellinor; he looked neither to the right nor to the left, -nor seemed aware of any other presence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear Ellinor,” said he, taking both her hands in his, -“I feel more and more weary—and sleep would be most -blessed. Give me the promised cup.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear David,” said Ellinor, starting from him, “it -is ready.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore watched them a moment, darkly intent. -Then she came striding down the length of the room with -great steps, her silken skirts swishing from side to side. -She halted before the simpler:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Good evening and good-bye, cousin!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Stay a moment,” said he perturbedly. “That -phial——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What of it?” she cried, and her eyes shot defiance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have been thinking, my child—not that I have any -doubt of it, for it is a grand drug—but I have been thinking -it might be better, perhaps, if I prepared a more diluted -solution. Give me back that bottle.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not for the world!” said she harshly, and fingered -the empty bottle in her bosom. “What, can you not -trust me? Oh, it’s precious, precious!” Her voice rang -again with wild note. “It has given me back my life.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>She turned to gaze once more, with chin bent down and -half-closed eyes, at the figures of Ellinor and David at -the distant end of the room. “Look, look! She pours -his draught into the cup. From her hand he takes it! -‘Dear Ellinor, sleep would be most blessed to-night.’ -He drinks! He will sleep——” So the interior voice, -shrill in the silence of her soul. Then aloud:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Good evening, cousin Simon, and good-bye!” she -repeated.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>She again took up her interrupted way. As she drew -nearer to the door:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And good-bye to you, David, sleep well!” she called -from the threshold upon a strange high pitch.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Master Simon looked after her, shook his head, drew -a deep breath of doubt through his nostrils and ran his -hand distractedly through his beard. He was very tired, -and felt a certain confusion in his head, succeeding the -exhilaration of an hour ago. Belphegor was humped in -a corner. Nothing seemed to be going quite according -to calculations. David passed him with a quick step. “I -am going to sleep,” said he, in a curious still voice, as -he went by.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sleep! It was a pleasing suggestion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor,” said the old man plaintively, “if there is -any of that calming decoction left, I think I might do -well to partake of it myself to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There is a whole cup still,” said Ellinor, and turned -back to the shelf.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XII<br> <span class='large'>TO SLEEP—PERCHANCE TO DREAM!</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>My heart a charmed slumber keeps</div> - <div class='line'>And a languid fire creeps</div> - <div class='line'>Through my veins to all my frame,</div> - <div class='line'>Dissolvingly and slowly: soon</div> - <div class='line'>From thy rose-red lips my name</div> - <div class='line'>Floweth. And then, as in a swoon,</div> - <div class='line'>With dinning sounds my ears are rife.</div> - <div class='line'>My tremulous tongue faltereth.</div> - <div class='line'>I lose my colour, I lose my breath,</div> - <div class='line'>I drink the cup of a costly death</div> - <div class='line'>Brimmed with delirious draughts of warmest life!</div> - <div class='line in28'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Eleänore</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Ellinor brought so weary a body, so weary a -mind to bed that night, that almost as soon as -her head touched the pillow she fell into a deep -dreamless sleep.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But before long a dim consciousness of trouble -began to stir within her mind, a feeling of sorrow and -oppression to bring sighs from her breast. There was -in her ears a sound as of lamentation and tears. At first -this was vaguely interwoven with her own sub-acute consciousness -of distress; but presently, and suddenly it -seemed, it became so insistent that she started and sat -straight up in bed, eyes and ears alert, staring and listening.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was her custom to keep both her windows uncurtained -at night, so that, waking, she might exchange a -look with his stars, and sleeping, let them look at her. -One window was always wide open. Like a flower, she -craved for all the light and air that heaven and earth -could give.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>She sat and stared and listened. Not from her own -heart, as she at first thought, did these sounds of trouble -ring in her dream: attuned to trouble as it was, her heart -had but echoed another’s misery. Something—what was -it? Nothing human, surely—was appealing, calling with -moans and whines, like that of some piteous trapped animal -that clamours to the unhearing skies. Aye, and that -square of closed moonlit window, where there should be -but the silhouette of an ivy spray or two, was blocked -out by some monstrous shape. Again she thought it was -nothing human, though the casement shook and there -were sounds of taps as if from desperate hands. Her -pulses beat thick and hard in her temples and she had a -moment’s paralysing terror. But she was at least a fearless -woman. The next instant she sprang out of bed, and -wrapping herself in the cloak that lay to her hand, she -seized the rushlight and advanced boldly. Before raising -an alarm she would see for herself what the thing was.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had not reached within a yard of the window, when -with an exclamation of mingled relief and astonishment, -she laid the light aside and sprang forward and flung -open the casement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Barnaby!” she cried, and drew the boy by main force -into the room.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He fell like a dead weight at her feet, exhausted, unable -to sustain himself, his hands feebly closing upon the -hem of her garment as if thereby clinging to safety.</p> - -<p class='c013'>On the wall of the Herb-Garden the young poetaster -Herrick had sought a sentimental seat from which he -could feast his love-lorn gaze on the windows of Mrs. -Marvel’s chamber; and, watching the tiny flickering light -within rise and sink against the naked panes, feast his -heart on God knows what innocently passionate dreams.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was an ideal night for such dreamings; and the -Italian-soft airs that blew upon young Romeo’s cheek -could scarcely have been more tender than this English -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>Lammas-night breath that gently fanned young Luke’s -ardour. A night of nights to sit lost in luxurious despair, -to rock a fancied sorrow and a fanciful love with poetic -metre and rhyme; to weave the sacred thought of the -lady’s bower with the melancholy of the moonlit hour, -the sob of unrequited love with the plaint of the night-bird -in the grove.</p> - -<p class='c012'>To this idyllic love-dream what an awakening! -Shattering these ideals how brutal, how horrid a reality!</p> - -<p class='c012'>There came running steps in the shaded garden paths, -a black, furtive figure across a white-lit garden space; and -then—Herrick looked and rubbed his eyes like a child and -looked again before he could believe—a man’s figure, to -his distressed vision tall and largely proportioned, climbing, -yes, ye gods! climbing up, up, the ivy ropes, up -to that window where his own fancy hardly dared to-night -to reach, albeit with such reverend haltings, with -such swoonings almost from its own temerity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The night picture swam before his eyes. He gripped -the stones on either side of him. When the mists cleared, -he must look again. He looked and saw a white figure, -all white even as he had held her to be—all white above -the world—was it a minute, was it a lifetime ago? The -white figure opened its arms, drew into its embrace the -dark visitor. All the whiteness seemed to become lost -in the blackness. Black, too, it grew before the eyes of -the youthful poet—black the whole world and black his -heart!</p> - -<p class='c012'>He let himself drop from his perch down into the -herb-beds. And there he lay, crushing vervaine and -balsam and sweet thyme into aromatic death. There he -lay a long, long time.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Mistress Margery Nutmeg had tied her goffered nightcap -under her decent chin and laid her respectable head -upon a chaste pillow with all her usual expectation of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>that rest which is the reward of an excellent conscience. -But (as she afterwards averred) the first strange thing -in a night which was to prove one of the strangest at -Bindon-Cheveral was that she could not sleep. She felt, -she said, as if the Angel of Death was beating his wings -about the House; and whenever she closed her eyes she -saw rows of little phials before her; and, considering she -was so much accustomed to poor dear Master Rickart’s -odd ways, it was the most curious thing of all that she -could not get the thought of Poison out of her head. At -last she could almost have believed she was beginning to -doze when there came sounds without her window as of -a tapping, a scratching, a scraping, a rustling.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She listened; there was no mistake. Out of bed she -got. Out of the window she looked!</p> - -<p class='c013'>In Lady Lochore’s boudoir, despite the midnight hour, -the candles were still burning in goodly array, illuminating -round the green board four tired faces, the play of -eight hands, the flutter of cards and the flash of dice. -Two of these faces showed greedy interest: the wax-like -pale-orbed countenance, to wit, of the Dishonourable -Caroline and the oriental visage of Villars. But the third, -Lady Lochore’s, fever-spotted and haunted, beheld the -capricious fortunes of chance ebb or flow with equal indifference. -What cared she whether gold grew in a -little pile beside her, or whether she had to jot down sums -no banker would credit now to the name of Lochore? As -little for the game, as little for loss or profit, as small -Priscilla herself, whose black-rimmed eyes pleaded for -bed, who took no pains to conceal her yawns and played -her cards as if she were already in a dream.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Yet Lady Lochore was eager to keep company about -her to-night. She was the first to insist on the fresh -round; the first to press the willing elderly gamblers to -another cast. It seemed as if she wanted to throw her -heart into the excitement; to hear the rattle of the dice -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>and her own loud laugh; to force herself to interest in -her opponents’ wrangles; to pin her attention to the -adding of points and the deduction of loss and gain—as -if she welcomed anything that might drown the small -insistent whisper at her ear. Anything to drive away -the vision of the great four-post bed waiting for her in -the night’s solitude.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Crouching at Ellinor’s feet, Barnaby was trying to tell -her, to tell her something, to get her aid for something, -with all the agonised effort of the human soul struggling -to find expression through limitations worse than those of -the brute animal. Deaf and dumb, and so vital a message -to be conveyed!</p> - -<p class='c012'>With patience as pitiful as the creature was pitiable, -Ellinor bent and tried in vain to understand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>How he had come to seek her in so perilous a fashion -she had, however, no difficulty in divining. It was but -too likely that Master Simon in his present condition -had been oblivious of his prisoner, insensible of his cries -and knocks. But, with his ape-like activity, the lad -could escape easily enough through the window; and she -was herself the only person from whom he could confidently -seek help. All that she could understand readily -enough. But why should he require this help?</p> - -<p class='c012'>As a first thought she endeavoured to discover if he -were hungry; he vehemently shook his head. He almost -struck from her hand the glass of water she, misled by -his repeated gesture of one in the act of drinking, -then held to his lips. He was obviously in sore need of -restorative, but the mental distress overshadowed the -physical. Now his plucking fingers began to urge her -to the door: he pointed, dragged himself a little way -on his hands and knees, like a dog, came back and again -pulled her towards it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor might have been more alarmed had she not remembered -his attack on Lady Lochore, and been persuaded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>that the poor fellow was still suffering from the -effects of her father’s mania for experiment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She resolved at length to humour the boy as far as -she could, and at the same time, from her own little -pharmacy downstairs, to obtain some harmless sedative -and then coax him into bed again. Drawing her cloak -more closely over her white garb, she took up the rushlight -in one hand and extended the other to Barnaby, -who in joy staggered to his feet and precipitated himself -forward.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As they entered the ante-room there came from the -stone passage without a sound of unfaltering steps, approaching -with singular rapidity. They hardly seemed -to halt a second upon the threshold of the outer door -before its lock was turned and it opened before them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor glanced at Barnaby in surprise, and marked a -sudden terror in his face that infected her in spite of -herself. But the next instant, as she looked round to -see Sir David standing before her, sprung as it were out -of the blackness, the feeling gave way to a glow of courage. -Ellinor’s heart always rose to the fence. Barnaby, -however, remained very differently impressed; the human -soul in him seemed to wither away in fear. Like an -animal before some abnormal manifestation of nature, he -crept back, cowering, with eyes fixed on the new-comer’s -face, to the further corner of the inner room.</p> - -<p class='c012'>So impossible a situation was it that her cousin should -seek her in her own apartment at midnight, that it hardly -needed the look on his face to convince her that something -was strangely wrong.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Faint as was the gleam of colour thrown by the rushlight -she held aloft, his countenance appeared to her all -transfigured; so much so that she had an unreasoning -impression that his white face itself diffused radiance in -the gloom. His heavy hair was tossed away from his -forehead as if wild fingers had played with it. Fragments -of moss, a withered leaf here and there, clung to -his garments; but it did not need this evidence to tell -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>Ellinor that he was straight from the woods—the breath -of the trees and of the deep night emanated from him, -fresh and pungent, indescribable.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!” she cried, retreating step by step from -his advance. “I thought, I hoped you had been asleep!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Asleep!” he answered. He tossed his hair from -his brow. “Nay, Ellinor I have but just awakened -from a long, long sleep: from a sleep like the sleep of -death.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Notwithstanding his pallor, he looked strong and -young; the tired lines and the unconscious frown of sorrow -were smoothed away. Slowly she had stepped back -into the inner room and he had followed eagerly. She -had little thought at the moment for transgressed conventions. -Every energy of her being was absorbed in -the desire so to deal with him as to give no shock to -a brain acting under some inexplicable influence. She -instinctively felt that he must be treated even as the -sleep-walker who has above all things to be guarded -against sudden waking.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Assuming a look of perfect calmness, she lit her candles -and made him welcome with a smile as if her white bedchamber -had been a drawing-room, and she, in her -cloaked nightdress, had worn garments of state.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sit down, dear cousin, and we can talk a little—but -not long, for we both must sleep.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His eye clung to her, as she moved about, with an unfaltering -gaze of delight. So had she seen him look at -his stars! In her turmoil of doubt and anxiety there was -an under movement, as of a long conceived joy that had -strength to stir at last. Even if he were distraught, he -loved her! But the impression that things were ill with -him soon devoured every other.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I, sit down!” he cried. “I, sleep! Nay, Ellinor, -do you not understand! I have been in bondage all this -time, and now this blessed cup you gave me has set -my soul free. First it ran like fire through my veins. It -drove me out into the woods, I ran among the singing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>trees. I cannot tell how it was with me, but I felt strength -growing within my soul. There was struggle, there was -pain, but this giant strength grew up. I fought. One -by one I broke the rusting chains that so long have bound -me—I threw the links away! Memories, doubt, hate, -despondency, I cast them all by! I stood in the glade, -looked up to the stars. I was free—free, Ellinor, free -to act, free to speak. To love you, to love you...! -Then the trees took voice: ‘Go to her!’ they said, and -waved their arms towards you. They ran with me. -Straight as the arrow from the bow, I started, leaping -over the mountains. And now, Ellinor, love, I have -come!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He drew near to her as he spoke, and in his hands, -cold as ice, he held both hers. She would not have drawn -away if she could. About herself with David she had -not a second’s doubt; by a look, she knew, she could -have thrown him to her feet.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His words flowed on like ceaseless music. Was woman -ever wooed by lips so eloquent and so beautiful, with -touch so passionate and yet so reverent! The pity of it: -it was only a dream!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I knew you were waiting for me in your white garments, -with your light burning. I knew you would open -your inner door for me. Oh, faithful heart!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now he raised both her hands and brushed them with -his lips one after the other but so lightly that she hardly -knew the caress. Then she felt his arms hover about her -like wings: the shadow of a lover’s embrace. He bent -his face close to hers. His voice, through passionate -inflexions, sank to an undertone of tenderness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You have stood beside me on my platform at night. -You did not know it always, but you were always there! -You have stood beside me in the dawn, and in the dawn -I sought you in the garden. Ah, that morning I would -have broken my chains and awakened to freedom if I -could! Always, since that first night, my heart has -been singing to you, though my lips were silent. But -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>you heard, did you not, the song of my heart? I heard -the song of yours, Ellinor, through all the evil things -that beat around me, demons of the past that put troubles -and discords between two songs that should ever rise -together. Do not say anything—do not tell me anything -of those dark hours!” he went on, arresting her as she -was about to speak. The serenity of his own countenance -became disturbed for a moment, its radiance overclouded. -He fixed her, with piercing question:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Can I trust you?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And, her true eyes on his, she made answer:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To the death!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He drew a long deep breath; and, with both hands, -made a gesture as if thrusting back victoriously some -spectre enemy. Smiling, and with exultation clanging -in his voice:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See, see,” he cried, “how they fade, how they melt -away! Freedom is ours!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now he flung his arm around her and strained her to -his breast. To be held to his heart and feel the passion -of his embrace—it ought to have brought to her that -sweet ecstasy of trouble, which to a pure woman is sacred -to her only love. But to Ellinor this moment was perhaps -the cruellest of her life. Must love remain to her -ever but a dream, that only in dream, or in delirium, -she should be wooed! Her dominant thought, however, -was still for David. She saw him, like the sleep-walker -of the legend, advancing along a perilous bridge beneath -which lay the chasm of madness or death.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, God,” she cried in her soul, “let not mine be -the hand to thrust him down!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then, as if in answer to her prayer, there came upon -her through the open window, like a promise of peace, -the vision of the night’s sky. Just against the black edge -of the tower, emerging even as she looked, appeared pure -and bright and steady the effulgent light of the new star.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See, David,” she said, and turned his face from its -ardent seeking of her own, “there are the stars, there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>is your Star, looking in upon us! Shall we not go and -look at her from the tower. Surely she is even more -radiant than usual!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>For a second his passion resisted the gentle touch; then -all at once she felt his frenzied grasp relax. She drew -a long breath! She slipped from his relaxing hold as the -mother slips her arm from under her sleeping child. A -change came over his face; a wistful expression of -struggle and doubt as between reason and madness. But -the next instant the wild light flamed up again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The star!” he whispered, then loudly repeated: “My -star!” and stretched out his arms to it, with the airy -unmeasured gesture of the delirious.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her heart stood still. Like a fire or a fever, his exaltation -had but leaped up the higher for the momentary -check.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor, my star! The world’s desire, my love—I -come to you!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He made a spring towards the window, and paused. -With arms still wide outstretched, he looked like some -god poised before taking wing for endless space. She -flung herself against him, and forced him back from the -window.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David—Beloved...!” And, almost with relief, -she felt the second danger of his passion close round -her again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My star!” he repeated exultingly. His voice rang -out now with high unnatural note, now sank to rapid -whispering. “Sweet miracle—the star that shines in -my sky and walks in beauty beside me! You remember, -you remember, Ellinor,” he whispered, “we had met already, -that first night, spirit to spirit, my soul to yours, -O Star, before we met in the flesh!” He laughed in -joy, and she felt the scalding tears rush up to her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, poor David!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, I knew you at once! There you shone out of the -dim old room, as you had shone out of my black spaces. -Your brow of radiance, your hair of fire! And your eyes—oh, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>blue, blue! Ellinor, you remember! I kissed you—my -star! I held you and I kissed you.” The whisper -now sank so low that she could hardly follow his words. -A tremor had come into the arms that encompassed her. -She felt as if a weakness, a dimness, were gathered upon -him. “That night we opened the door and stood upon -the threshold of the golden chamber. Why did we not -go in? I do not know. Shall we not go in now? -Ellinor, bride, give me again your lips, those lips that -have haunted me waking and sleeping. Ellinor!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The last articulate words broke way almost upon a -moan. He was breathing with panting effort. Suddenly -he swayed, and she upheld him. Then he failed altogether, -and she guided his fall—strong as she was, it was -all she could do—till he lay stretched his length on the -floor at her feet. Then she knelt beside him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His eyes looked up at her, pleading through the mists -that were thickening over them. His lips, without sound, -formed the prayer for her kiss. She knew not what -despair was coming upon her. The apprehensions, vague -yet so evil, that had yet been gathering thick about her -all this strange acute hour, seemed now massed into one -terrible tangible shape: in a second she must look upon -its awful face. Well, what she could still give her beloved -in life—that she would give from her breaking -woman’s heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And bending down, she laid her lips upon his.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She thought it was the kiss of death. He smiled -faintly, his eyelids fell. Like a child, he turned his head -upon his arm and drew a long deep sigh as of the peace -of repose after unutterable restlessness. She crouched -down close to watch for the moment of the passing of -all she loved.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Once before she had seen another strong man’s life -go from him as she knelt by his side; had known the -very instant between the last heaving of his breast and -its eternal stillness. And she thought now, that when -that minute should again strike for her and she should -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>wait for the sound of the breath that was never to come, -her own life would be driven out under the pressure of -that slow agony!</p> - -<p class='c013'>So prepared was she for horror that she could hardly -credit her own senses when presently it was borne in -upon her that his respiration was becoming gradually -deeper and more assured, that his pallid face was assuming -a more natural look. She slid her trembling -fingers upon his hand; it was warm and humanly relaxed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was alive! He was asleep! The Spectre of Terror -had fled from before her without unveiling its countenance. -She had thought their kiss was the kiss of death, -and behold, it was as the kiss of Life!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Yet the tide of relief, passionate as it was, could not -carry away with it all doubt and fear. He was deaf to -her call, insensible to the pressure of her fingers. Even -as she knew that no man in ordinary circumstances could -fall thus suddenly from waking into slumber, she knew -that this was the unconsciousness of the drugged.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XIII<br> <span class='large'>THOU CANST NOT SAY I DID IT</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>O! my fear interprets. What! is he dead?</div> - <div class='line in24'>—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare</span> (<cite>Othello</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Across a lively interchange of words between Mrs. -Geary and Mr. Villars, across Lady Lochore’s -shrill laughter and malicious intervention, there -fell a silence. It was as if a shadow had suddenly eaten -up the light. Lady Lochore became rigid, and the dice-box -dropped from her hand.—All looked towards the -door. There stood a broad and placid figure, white-capped -and white-aproned, with folded hands; a figure -surely the very sight of which should have brought comfort -and confidence. But Lady Lochore stared at it with -terror on her face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, my lady, could I speak with you a minute?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David’s sister rose slowly and moved like an automaton -across the room. She lifted her hand to her contracted -throat.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am sorry to tell you, my lady, there is something -seriously amiss.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore spread out her arms as if groping for -support. Her dry tongue clicked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I knew there was no use going to Sir David,” continued -the unctuous whisper.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David! The blackness suddenly passed away from -before Lady Lochore’s eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sir David, woman!” She clutched the housekeeper’s -wrist and pinched it sharply.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, my lady.” Margery looked mildly surprised. -“Him being always lost in stars, so to speak, and locked -up in his tower.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>“Then he’s not ill?” Lady Lochore flung the servant’s -hand away from her. She drew a deep breath, then -gave a little rasping laugh. What news she had hoped -for? Relief and disappointment ran through her like -cross currents.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ill, my lady? Sir David? Thank God, no! Not -as I know, my lady.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery did not often show emotion beyond a -well fixed point. But she was surprised; she really -was.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, my lady,” began the whisper again, and Lady -Lochore bent for a moment a scornful ear. Then her -laughter rang out again, louder this time.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Excellent Nutmeg! What a story! You have been -having toasted cheese for supper, sure!—Listen, good -people: some one has been trying to break into Margery’s -sacred chamber. Oh, fie, Mrs. Nutmeg!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her pale lips seemed withered with her forced merriment -as she turned upon the trio still sitting round the -green cloth. The gamblers halted in their renewed -wrangle to give her an impatient attention. Little Priscilla, -arrested in a yawn, twisted a small weary face over -her shoulder to stare.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not my chamber,” said Mrs. Nutmeg, raising her -voice slightly, but otherwise quite unmoved.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Not yours.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, my lady—the chamber over mine.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Marvel’s!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And once more Maud Lochore’s hysterical mirth broke -forth. The next instant it was suddenly hushed, and -stillness fell again upon them. Priscilla rose from the -table and came forward three steps impetuously, then -halted, crimsoning to the roots of her hair, clasping and -unclasping her hands. The Dishonourable Caroline -looked at her daughter for a second with a pale, hard eye, -then said in a repressive tone curiously at variance with -the meaning of her words:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thieves and housebreakers; we shall all be murdered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>in our beds! Let the men be called! Let search -be made! Come, Priscilla.” She slowly waddled round -to the girl’s side. “You shall remain in my room till -the miscreants are captured. No doubt some of the -gentlemen would stay within call.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The gentlemen—where are they?” asked Lady -Lochore. Then bending her brow darkly on Margery: -“But why did you not call the men?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery pleated her apron.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Please, your ladyship,” she answered, in that sort -of whisper that is more effectively heard than the natural -voice, “it was no thief, whoever it was. He knocked -at Mrs. Marvel’s window and the window was opened -to him.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore gave a cry, a cry charged with a curious -triumph as well as a stabbing remorse. Was her enemy -delivered into her hands after all! Then that secret -minute in the laboratory, that dire deed of impulse and -opportunity, it had all been useless! For a brief black -space she fought the thought in her heart. Well, who -could tell, after all? Old Rickart was mad, mad as a -hatter; and his theories, his famous discoveries might -well prove but moonshine spun from his own crazy brain, -while she, poor fool, was wearing out her short remnant -of life with leaps and bounds, with senseless terrors, with -weak repentances for a deed that perhaps had never -been done! And if it were done? Up sprang her indomitable -spirit. If it were done, it was well done! And, -done or no, the hour of personal vengeance was vouchsafed -her at the moment she had ceased to hope for it, -least expected it. She would not be Maud Lochore, -with the strength of death upon her, did she not use -it to the full.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Old Villars rose from his seat, his face working with -varied emotions: anger, greedy curiosity, low vindictive -pleasure. The Dishonourable Caroline packed her -daughter’s arm firmly under her own.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is time for bed,” she asserted.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>But Priscilla wrenched herself from her mother’s -grasp and stamped her foot.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Where is Mr. Herrick?” she exclaimed, and burst -into tears.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Meanwhile Lady Lochore was speaking in broken -sentences of ejaculation and command: “Shame, disgrace -upon the House of Bindon! How dared the creature -bring her wanton ways under our roof? But it was -well, order should be put to it all.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Take these candles, Margery,” she ordered, “and -lead the way. My good friends, I crave your support. I -am a daughter of this house. I have to defend its -honour and expose those who would bring shame upon it. -You see, you have all seen: I stand alone. My poor -brother—” But her voice broke. Again the awful sickening -qualm that she had been fighting against all the -evening seized upon her. Of him she could not nerve herself -to speak. Savagely rallying her strength, she took up -her candle. “I must have some disinterested witnesses,” -she went on. “Come and see me pluck the mask from a -smooth hypocrite’s face. What’s the child sobbing for? -Why doesn’t she go to bed as she is bid? Is she so very -anxious to see Mrs. Marvel’s Romeo?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With a cruel little laugh she passed on, disdaining Villars’ -eagerly proffered arm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you, but you had better follow behind, most -faithful cavalier. How strange that both the other gentlemen -should be missing! But we shall soon know -which has the best excuse.”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Ellinor knelt brooding over her beloved, now cold to -the heart again with the doubt how this might end, now -reassured by the depth of his repose. There was nothing -stertorous in the long easy breathing. A natural moisture -had gathered on the sleeper’s brow. The fluttering -irregularity of the pulse was settling down under her -fingers into fuller, slower measure. That the “Good -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>Woman’s” sleeping draught which she had herself prepared -for David could produce so potent an effect was, -she knew, impossible. But, however produced, it seemed, -so far, beneficial.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was for a space of time, almost happiness to see him -sleep and in such peace, with the shadow of the smile her -kiss had called up still upon his lips; to feel herself so -necessary to him; to be alone with him and her secret -in the night.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Not yet had she time to examine the wild conjectures -flitting through her mind; not yet time to face the problem -of saving her good name and his gentleman’s honour -from the consequences of this most innocent love meeting. -She wanted to taste this exquisite relief, to rest her soul -upon the brown-gold wings of hope before taking up her -burden again.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Suddenly an insolent knock on the panel of her door -startled her from her contemplation. She had but the -time to spring to her feet; and upon the flash of a single -thought, to unfasten her cloak and fling it hastily over -David’s body, before the knock was repeated louder and -the door thrown open.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore stood on the threshold.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Behind her was a peering group. Ellinor, in the first -moment of strained fancy, saw a thousand lights, a thousand -staring eyes, a sea of faces. The next instant the -tide of blood began slowly to ebb from her brain. She -felt herself strong, cold, indifferent. She knew she stood -in night-garb before them all, she knew that the covered -figure lay in full line of sight, in full light. She did not -care. All her energies were concentrated in one fierce resolve: -she would save the honour of this helpless man, -no matter at what cost. So long as she had life and could -stand before him, no one should lift that cloak to see -who lay beneath it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She took her post and faced the intruders:—Lady Lochore, -with harpy countenance, craning forward, greedy -of vengeance; Mr. Villars, with goatish face, looking over -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>her shoulder, greedy of scandal; Margery with stony -eyes, holding the candelabra up aloft to shed more light -upon her enemy’s shame; Mrs. Geary, staring with pallid -orbs.... Ellinor clenched her arms over her heaving -breast.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But they who had expected so different a scene, and -thought to find a panting young Romeo behind a curtain -or a suave experienced Don Juan ready with explanations, -a languorous Juliet or a distraught Elvira, halted almost -with fear before the strange spectacle:—the prone figure, -quite still, covered away, more sinister in its suggestion -than even the sight of death; the menacing woman nobly -robed from the spring of her full throat to the arch of -her bare foot in heavy white folds, who, in her strength -and purity, might have been a model for the vestal virgin -guarding her sacred fire.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore’s indictment froze unspoken upon her -lips; her face became set as in a mask of terror; the -hand flung out in gesture of vindictive reprobation, finger -ready pointed in scorn, shook as with palsy. Her eye -quailed from the stern beauty of Ellinor’s face and -dropped to the dark mask on the floor; there, clear -of the folds, lay a slender hand, helpless and relaxed, -with the gleam of a well-known signet-ring -upon the third finger. Her mouth dropped open, -her terrified eyes almost started from their sockets. -She flung a bewildered look around, and met full the -accusing glare of Barnaby’s gaze fixed upon her from -the shadow of the window curtain. Barnaby, monstrous -figure, as if her crime itself had taken shape, to call for -retribution!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Lady Lochore, what do you seek here? Have you -not done evil enough already in this house!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor’s voice pierced with direct accusation to Lady -Lochore’s soul. For a second the guilty woman fairly -struggled for breath. Margery saved her from self-betrayal:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Her ladyship has surely seen enough!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>Their eyes met. These words, too, were capable of a -terrible undermeaning. But the housekeeper contrived -to convey through her expressionless gaze a sense of support. -If this woman knew the secret, she knew it as an -accomplice; there was help in the thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are right,” cried Lady Lochore shrilly, “we have -seen enough! Forgive me, my friends, for having -brought you to such a spectacle. Back, back, shut the -door. I forbid—I forbid anyone to make a step forward. -Leave the creature to her shame. Oh, it is horrible!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She beat them back with her hands as she felt Villars’ -eager pressure on one side and the slow, steady advance -of Mrs. Geary on the other. She knew that their fingers -itched to raise the veil of that cloak. If they had raised -it, she must have gone mad!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery firmly closed the door.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Really, my dear Lady Lochore,” complained Villars, -“I think the matter should be further investigated. I -can understand your delicate repugnance, but positively -that figure on the floor—Deyvil take me—it looked like -a corpse!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Fool, do you not see it was a ruse, a trick? Ah, it -has made me sick—it is too disgusting——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She wiped the sweat from her brow, and then in truth -shuddered as from a deadly nausea.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Geary, breathing hard and fanning herself with -her handkerchief, had fixed her gaze on the speaker’s -face. Her ideas moved very slowly, but they were -sure.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear, your whole behaviour is incomprehensible,” -she said. “Mr. Villars is quite right. The matter should -be investigated. Who, and in what condition, is the man -under that woman’s cloak? It is our duty to elucidate -the matter. Where is Mr. Herrick?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And for that matter, where is Colonel Harcourt?” -sneered Mr. Villars.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You shall not dare!” screamed Lady Lochore. She -arrested a retrograde movement on either side with violently -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>extended arms. “Out—back to your rooms, all of -you! Are you devils, that you should want to gloat—”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery laid her left hand warningly on her elbow, -and Lady Lochore broke off abruptly. What had she -said? She had no idea herself. She could have flung -herself on her face and shrieked aloud. The fearful deed -was done! There could now be no more doubt. The -brand of Cain was on her brow! Her death-sweat would -not wash it off! It was burnt into the very bone!</p> - -<p class='c013'>She had thrust her guests into the passage with as little -ceremony as Lady Macbeth dismissing the feasters. -When the door of Ellinor’s outer room was closed between -them and that something with Sir David’s signet-ring, -the clutch at her heart relaxed a little and she could -draw her breath with more ease. A sort of apathy began -to creep over her. Margery was speaking and she could -listen:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Her ladyship being so delicate, it is quite natural -she should be upset. It is her ladyship’s way to act on -impulse. But to find such doings under her ladyship’s -own roof, so to speak, and the person a close relation of -the family! Mistress Marvel is a very clever lady, and -whether the gentleman were drunk or asleep—” she -looked up a second swiftly at Lady Lochore, and resumed -the soothing trickle of speech, “her ladyship is quite -right. So long as she knows how she stands with regard -to Mrs. Marvel, there had better be no open scandal, -such as leads,” said Margery piously, “to gentlemen’s -duels and the like.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There now came a patter of feet, a flutter of soft garments, -a sobbing, uplifted voice—</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What was it? Which of them was it?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Priscilla!” Mrs. Geary caught her daughter’s wrist -and the girl gave a cry of pain. “Disobedient child, -back to your room!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Priscilla whimpered and writhed; but the lady maintained -her firm grasp and, with dignity accepting a candle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>from Margery’s candelabra, turned and marched the -truant down the passage that led to her apartments.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Bowing and smirking, Mr. Villars, whose further advice -and proffers of help were ruthlessly cut short by an -impatient wave of Lady Lochore’s hand, had no resource -but to betake himself with his triple light in the direction -of his own quarters. He had no idea of letting matters -rest there, but feigned nevertheless immediate submission.</p> - -<p class='c012'>They parted in the round gallery where three corridors -met—two belonging to the modern house, the third leading -to the tower-wing which had been the territory of -their raid. Mrs. Nutmeg looked awhile after the bobbing -lights; then, with a pensive smile upon her lips, -laid down the candelabra, and after some effort, for it -was not usually moved, closed the heavy oaken door -which shut off the tower-wing from the newer parts -of the Bindon House; locked it, and in silence placed -the key in her apron pocket. Lady Lochore stared at -her uncomprehendingly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is as well, my lady, to know that no one can get in -or out of the keep end—except through the window! -The lower door I locked myself and Sir David of course -has his key. But it is to be hoped that none of the disturbance -reach him on his tower, poor gentleman!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The horror returned to Lady Lochore’s eyes; how -much did this secret, impassive woman really know of -to-night’s deeds?</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Margery!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, my lady, it is a grand night for the stars,” said -Margery. And as the other groaned: “Will your ladyship -come to bed?” she went on; “I humbly hope you -have not let Master Rickart give you any of his queer -drugs; you don’t look yourself. He has a kind of stuff, -I have heard tell, that upsets people’s brains, fills them -with queer fancies, like nightmare, so to speak. And -there’s been madness in the village already. Master -Rickart will have a deal to explain, I’m thinking. There, -my lady, you’re shivering. Come to bed!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>Lady Lochore suffered herself to be led to her room; -to be unclothed and assisted into the great four-post bed. -Margery’s presence, her touch, was agony to her, and -yet, when she left the room, Lady Lochore could have -shrieked after her. But she closed her lips, closed her -eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At last she was shut in alone with her own conscience. -She had never before been afraid, this woman who had -been ready to take death as recklessly as she had taken -life. After a while, she crawled out of bed and into the -adjoining room. Above the throbbing of her pulses and -her own gasping respiration she could hear the light -breathing from the cot. Noiselessly she parted the curtains -and let an opalescent ray of moon in upon the little -sleeper.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Surely, surely, when she looked upon him for whom -she had done it—her boy, whom a fool and a wanton -would have conspired to keep out of his rights!—this -horrible agony would leave her. She would be proud of -her own courage, proud to have been strong enough to -act. Crime! What was crime? The crime had been to -try and defraud her child! “Ten drops madness!” How -many drops could that phial have contained? Madness! -Well, he had method enough in his madness to remember -the way to his mistress’s arms!... “After that -darkness”—the long, long Darkness! Her teeth chattered. -What then? It was but retribution if his long -sleep came upon him thus! Ah, they had caught the -scheming widow red-handed. Red-handed was the word—oh, -the hussy’s conscience was not so clear either! -Why had she covered him up from their sight? Let her -answer for it, she and her poisoning old father! But -what was this fantastic water? Surely it was his hideous -drug, little as she had had of it, that drove out this -clammy sweat upon her, made her heart sink—sink with -this awful sickness, filled her brain with those black fleeting -shadows that even the child’s warm presence could -not conjure away.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>She closed her eyes, for it was almost as if the unconscious -baby-visage added to her terror. But a glare swam -before her inner vision, and out of it and in the midst of -it, in some horrible fashion, Barnaby’s face with accusing -eyes looked forth. What had brought Barnaby -in Mrs. Marvel’s room—Barnaby who knew? She put -her hands to her throat as if she still felt the clutch of -his fingers upon it. The next instant, with a spasm of -relief, she had almost called aloud with guilty Macbeth—“Thou -canst not say I did it!” Let the deaf and dumb -boy point and mouth and gibber, what he had seen he -never could bear witness to.... Deaf and dumb—oh -rare!</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stood beside the cot and gazed with a desperate -tenderness upon it. There now slept the lord of Bindon! -His fortune was secured, and by her deed. She bent her -head to kiss the little chubby hand. But before her lips -had reached it she shuddered back:—between her and her -child’s hand rose the vision of another hand, pale, limp, -with a signet-ring.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XIV<br> <span class='large'>JEALOUS WATCHERS OF THE NIGHT</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Fie on’t! Oh fie! ’Tis an unweeded garden</div> - <div class='line'>That’s gone to seed: things rank and gross in nature</div> - <div class='line'>Possess it merely....</div> - <div class='line in12'>... Frailty thy name is woman!</div> - <div class='line in26'>—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare</span> (<cite>Hamlet</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>It was late at night when Colonel Harcourt dismounted, -stiff and tired, in front of the <em>Cheveral -Arms</em>. He had successfully sought at Bath a pair -of friends who were to call upon Sir David on the morrow; -but he had, somewhat morosely, declined their -proffered hospitality. For some ill-defined reason he had -been drawn back to Bindon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The sleepy landlord had but a poor supper to serve: -<i><span lang="la">per contra</span></i> an excellent bottle of wine. One, indeed, that -so curiously resembled the Clos-Royal of which the colonel -had approved at Bindon House that, as he tasted it, -he found himself sardonically regretting that he had not -pressed a more handsome gratuity into old Giles’s -palm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Indeed, he soon called for another bottle. Yet he was -in no better a humour after the cracking of the second -seal. The thoughts seething in his brain remained as -dark and heavy as the liquor in his glass, but were far -from being as generous.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His physical equilibrium was disturbed. It had always -been a part of Antony Harcourt’s power with men, as -with women, that no matter how seriously they might -take him, he should take himself and them with gentlest -ease. But to-night he was a prey to two passions that -would not let their presence be denied. A passion of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>resentment against his whilom host; a longing to feel -his own hand striking that cold, pale cheek, or yet to see -a thin stain of blood upon that affectedly old-fashioned -waistcoat spreading and running down, whilst he should -smile and wonder that it should actually show red.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The other passion! He was in love with the widow -Marvel—as damnably in love as the raw boy, Herrick, -himself, with the added torture of the <i><span lang="fr">roué</span></i> who has -never yet known denial, of the materialist who can console -himself with no poetic fancies and can dull his senses -with no falutin of sensibility.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A month ago, if anyone had told him that his elegant -person should house two such wild beasts, he would not -have thought the suggestion even worth the trouble of a -smile. Now, as he lay back on his wooden chair, eyeing -the ruby in his glass with a deep, vindictive eye, Colonel -Harcourt felt his savage guests tear at him, and was in -as dangerous a mood as ever undid a fool or made a criminal. -All at once the heat of the room, of the wine, of his -own fierce mood, stifled him. He rose, lit himself a cigar, -and sallied out, bare-headed and uncloaked, into the -sweet, still night.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The inn stood a little apart from the village—a gunshot -distance from the gates of Bindon Park. Colonel -Harcourt paced a few steps down the moonlit white road -and paused, drawing reflective puffs, feeling almost without -noticing how grateful was the cool air upon his head, -hearing without listening the mysterious whisper of the -trees on the other side of the park walls. He moved his -cigar from his lips and hesitated.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then, on an impulse that was as sudden as it was purposeless, -he turned off from the hard road, silver in the -moonlight, and struck over the stile into the darkness of -the narrow, tree-shaded path that led to the church on -the grounds. From this, giving the Rectory a wide berth, -he branched off, and, aimlessly enough, directed his steps -towards the House. Twelve strokes of the night floated -gravely from the little square church tower. A dog bayed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>in the village and was answered in deeper note from Bindon -stable-yards. On went Antony Harcourt fitfully, -slowly, now pausing, now beating time with steady footfall -to an evil little pipe of song that the dark secret -world and his own heart seemed to take up, one after -the other, like a catch.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A dry stick snapped sharply under his feet, the light -of a lantern flashed upon his face, a hand fell heavily -on his shoulder. It was one of the keepers, who instantly -apologised profoundly to Bindon’s personable guest and -sped him on his way with a reverential “Good-night, -sir,” succeeded by a stare and a shrug. The ways of -gentle-folk were strange.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Burgundy is a wine that long remains hot in the blood. -Colonel Harcourt’s pulses were throbbing. A curious -excitement pervaded his being. Like the sails of a mill -under a fitful breeze, anon his brain whirled with plans, -anon seemed to stagnate, unable to formulate a thought. -He found himself at last standing at the entrance of the -ruins, at the back of the Herb-Garden. Before him the -tower-wing of the house cut the shimmering star-shine -with pointed gable, with massed chimney stack, with the -huge black square of the keep, all fantastically picked -out by stripes of moonlight. The curious exotic spices of -the Herb-Garden rose against his nostrils.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He flung upwards a look of scorn:—was the brain-sick -star-gazer even now at his telescope? Upon the -sweep of his downward glance an illumined window -caught and arrested his attention. He made a rapid calculation -from the gables—Mistress Marvel’s window!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore still kept them at late hours it seemed, -in this whilom sleepy house! The fair widow was doubtless -but just disrobing for the night. As he gazed somewhat -sentimentally—what tricks will Clos-Royal and the -witchery of a Lammas-night play even with a middle-aged -gentleman of vast experience and acute sense of -humour!—suddenly he started and stared, open mouthed -upon a curse.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>Something black and tall and slight, a man’s figure, had -appeared against the bright open window, cutting it -across with outstretched arms and, almost at the same -moment, something dimly pale and of soft outline, a -woman’s figure, flung itself between his eyes and the -unexpected vision. He caught a glimpse of white bare -arms. Then all vanished again as if it had not been, -and there was naught but the lighted window, open to -the night, confiding, innocent, tranquil.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Colonel Harcourt gnashed his teeth and cursed long -and deep within himself. For all his libertine theories -and Lady Lochore’s denunciations he had never doubted -for a moment but that Mrs. Marvel’s favours were a -prize as yet untouched. And now—behold! One more -audacious than himself had slily reached up and plucked -the golden fruit!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“By the Lord, I’ll run that Lovelace to earth!” This -was the first articulate thing out of his fury.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He began scrambling through the ruins in his frantic -desire to reach a closer point of view. A dangerous way, -in truth, but one that would perchance prove more dangerous -by daylight, since the perils that are unknown do -not exist and the god of chance proverbially favours the -reckless. Colonel Harcourt risked his life a score of -times and knew it not. Hot in his determination, he -scarcely felt the hurt when he fell; and, when he spurned -the crumbling, slipping stone beside him, the sound of -its drop into unknown vaults evoked no image of what -he himself had escaped. As little had he heeded the song -of the bullet in his ear or the roar of the mine beside -him when he had led his lads up the French lines at -Barrosa, a dozen years before. Torn, panting, bruised, -he landed at length safely on a poison-plot of the Herb-Garden. -Even as he looked up again the light at the -gable-end window went out.</p> - -<p class='c012'>With that light went out his own heat of disappointed -passion. <i><span lang="fr">Homme à bonnes fortunes</span></i> as he was, he was -not the man to care to come second anywhere. Mrs. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>Marvel’s chief charm after all had been her unattainableness. -The colonel, as he stood in the moonlight, -was all at once a sober man. It seemed to him now that, -culminating with that second bottle, he had gradually -been getting drunk this whole fantastic fortnight.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What, in all the devils’ names, did it really matter -that a weak-minded recluse should slight him and his -fellow guests, that he should have taken upon himself -this absurd challenge, from which there was now no -retreat? What was there in the country widow? And -why should he have seen red because of the timely discovery -that she was wanton and not virtuous? And -how the devil was he to get out of this infernal garden?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A pretty situation wherein to bring his forty-eight -years’ experience and his thirteen stone of flesh! As he -ruefully felt over his bruised body and damaged garments, -his fingers struck against a hard outline in his -waistcoat pocket. The key! He gave a soft chuckle. It -was a poor end to a summer night’s venture, but an undoubted -relief to be able to extricate oneself in commonplace -fashion by walking out through an open gate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Wrapping his philosophical humour round him as the -best cloak to cover his sense of moral dilapidation, he -was cautiously picking his way, when he became aware -of a hasty footstep behind him. As he turned round, the -moonlight showed him a tall, slender black figure, a -haggard, white face!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Luke Herrick!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Colonel Harcourt!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The older man was the first to speak. He was not -astonished—only (he told himself) highly amused. There -was a tone in his voice, however, which belonged less to -amusement than to some biting desire to use the keenest-edged -weapon wits could provide.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How fortunate that I should have the key of the -gate and be able to let you out, Mr. Herrick!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He began to fumble for the lock in the darkness of -that shaded spot, and laughed as he felt the young man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>press forward suddenly behind him and then draw back -a step with a hissing breath. The gate creaked on its -hinges. Colonel Harcourt, with a gesture the mocking -courtesy of which was lost in the night, invited the other -to proceed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“After you, sir. Why do you hesitate? It is quite -fit that dashing youth should take precedence of middle-age -on certain occasions.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick clenched his fist; then with a desperate effort -regained control of his most sore and injured self and -stalked out of the garden, spurning that earth his feet -would tread for the last time.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You walk late, my young friend,” resumed Harcourt, -as he joined him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So do you, sir!” cried Herrick thickly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The colonel laughed with quite a mellow sound. In -proportion as Herrick’s discomfiture became manifest his -own geniality returned.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Our ways lie together as far as the moat-bridge,” -remarked he.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick made no reply. What though she had fallen, -and fallen to such an one, she was still a woman; and -through him, who had worshipped her, shame should not -come upon her. Let Harcourt mock and jeer in his triumph, -he would be patient ... till a fitter moment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“By George! our little Romeo is discreet,” thought -the colonel. “But I’ll loosen your tongue yet, you -dog!—A charming night!” quoth he aloud. “Delightful -last remembrance to carry away with one, is it -not?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick paused for an appreciable instant; then steadily -took up his way again, still in silence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I presume you leave to-morrow?” pursued the elder -man. “Our good host——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You, I presume,” interrupted Herrick, “intend to -remain, at least in the neighbourhood!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>They were in the thickest shade of the shrubbery, but -each knew the other’s eye upon him. Their attitude, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>morally, was like that of men fencing in the dark, feeling -blade on blade yet never venturing a full thrust.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are right. I do not leave just yet. In truth, -I have a transaction to complete before I altogether withdraw -from this delightful spot. But you——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I, sir?” echoed Luke, breathing quickly through his -nostrils.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, you——” Harcourt laughed good-humouredly, -almost paternally. “I was going, I declare, to commit -the folly, unpardonable in my years, of offering a young -man advice. I was going to say, my good lad, that from -the poetic point of view, your visit here must have been -so inspiring, so, what shall I say? so eminently successful, -that it would be a thousand pities for you to prolong -it. Disillusion,” he added, with a light sigh, “swiftly -follows upon joy.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Herrick chewed a thousand savage retorts, but let not -one escape beyond his clenched teeth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You have doubtless a vast experience, sir,” he responded -at last; and the colonel was forced to admit -in his own mind that his adversary was stronger than -he had deemed him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>In this mood they reached the moat-bridge, and the -full-spaced moonlight. Then both paused, and, for the -first time, saw each other clearly. The imaginary rivals -stood a moment and took stock of each other’s tell-tale -appearance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“By the Lord,” thought Colonel Harcourt, running -his eye sardonically over the dark stains on Herrick’s -handsome evening suit, his tossed and dishevelled hair, -“it is all correct and complete! He’s had to come down -by the window! The deuce!... I who thought the -situation would have suited me!” He had another quiet -laugh which enraged the youth almost beyond endurance. -For one voluptuous moment Herrick saw himself -laying this triumphant elderly Lothario at his feet. For -every stain, for every rent in that riding suit, for every -stone scratch on those heavy boots—brute beast, who -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>could enter thus into his lady’s presence!—he should -feel the cuffing of an honest fist! Nor were Colonel -Harcourt’s next words likely to conduce to the young -man’s self-control.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Most poetical Herrick,” he said, “you have lost your -hat, and you are in sad need of a brush!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For the matter of that, sir, where is your hat? And -as for requiring a brush——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then he clenched his fist, this time for a most deliberate -purpose. The situation was undoubtedly strained. Suddenly -a piping voice drew their attention to quite a new -quarter.—Upon the other side of the moat-bridge stood -the quaint be-frilled, be-ringletted, tightly be-pantalooned -figure of Mr. Villars. And even as they gazed this -worthy hobbled across and came close to them, his face -under the moonlight visibly quivering with excitement.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Harcourt! ... Luke, my poor lad!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>They turned upon him like angry dogs disturbed in -the preliminaries of a private quarrel. The colonel’s -somewhat precarious and thin-spread geniality was not -proof against this witness of his inexplicable plight.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My good friends,” pursued Villars, the mystification -on his countenance giving way to a gloating delight as -he looked from one to the other, “what has happened? -This has been indeed a night of adventures! We thought -you had gone to Bath, Colonel. Luke, lad, the ladies -have missed you—at least some of them, he—he—he!” -The skin of his dry hands crackled as he rubbed them. -“This is extraordinary. This is something quite romantic, -he—he!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mr. Villars,” interrupted Harcourt suddenly, “is it -not time you were in your beauty sleep, and your hair -in curl papers?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He turned his broad back upon the inquisitive gentleman -and fixed Herrick for a couple of seconds with a -hard straight look.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Colonel Harcourt,” cried the boy hotly in answer, “I -am at your service.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>“Mr. Herrick,” returned the other, “you are an understanding -youth. I regret to be unable to respond just -now as I should wish. But in a few days perhaps—I -have a good memory.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His tone was now as hard as his eye. He nodded -towards the speechless poet with a little wave of the -hand that was full of significance. Then without further -noticing Mr. Villars, he turned on his heel and walked -away towards the trees where he was instantly swallowed -in the black shadows.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As Herrick stood glaring after him into space, his -wrist was seized and a wrinkled eager face was thrust -offensively close to his.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear boy, I know all about it—all about it. The -Deyvil! But that was a brilliant idea of yours to fox -under that cloak. Her suggestion, eh? Naughty boy. -Lucky dog, he—he! But what about the colonel, eh? -What? You don’t mean to say the pretty widow has -two——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>In the great silence of this hour before the dawn the -sound of a master slap rang out sharp as a pistol shot; -and the echo of it came back like a jeer from the terrace -walls.</p> - -<p class='c013'>“A raving lunatic,” said Villars to himself with wry -lips, as he nursed his cheek and blankly watched Herrick -stride towards the house. “Certainly not worth taking -the least notice of!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Nevertheless, if that young man’s paper ever fell into -his hands!</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Herrick was taking to his rooms a heart heavy -enough to have satisfied even the financier’s vindictiveness.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XV<br> <span class='large'>A SIMPLER’S EUTHANASIA</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Tired, he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er.</div> - <div class='line in28'>—<span class='sc'>Pope</span> (<cite>Essay on Man</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Ellinor, after hastily donning a few garments, -stole on light foot in her visitors’ wake and -reached the cross-door at the instant when, -on the other side, the key was being turned by Margery. -There she waited in the darkness until voices and footsteps -had died away beyond, when, feeling for the old -disused bolt on the inside, she drew it into its socket. -Then she ran back to her own room. She had arduous -work to perform before Margery should have time to -return round by all the basement passages to the keep wing -and resume her office of spy. She had, by some -means or other, to convey David back to his tower so -that none should ever know the truth of this night’s -events—none but he and she.</p> - -<p class='c012'>How with her unaided strength she was to achieve -this she did not stop to consider: it must be done. As -she re-entered the room it was a joyful relief to find -Barnaby kneeling on the floor beside Sir David.—Barnaby! -In the agitation of the night she had forgotten his -presence. Barnaby—the ideal silent helper.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The dumb lad looked up, nodded, then pillowed his -cheek on his hand, closed his eyes, drew a few deep -breaths in pantomime of sleep and nodded again. She -knelt down for a moment beside him and laid her hand -lightly on David’s brow and over his heart. It was in -truth a deep, and it seemed a healing, sleep. Then she -rose to her purpose. And in a shorter space of time than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>she had dared to hope, Barnaby with her help had safely -laid Sir David on the couch in the observatory. A pillow -was placed under his head, his furred cloak over his feet; -and still he slept like a tired-out soldier.</p> - -<p class='c012'>After a quick look round, Ellinor closed the rolling -dome and shut out the sky, drew the heavy curtains -before the door, and, satisfied that all was as well as she -could make it, was hurrying forth again when Barnaby -arrested her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He had been passive enough under her imperative demand -for help, but now, to her surprise, the old look of -distress and pleading had returned upon his face. Again -he plucked her by the sleeve and gesticulated, then -stopped short, pointed to the sleeper, and once more -made that gesture of conveying something to his lips -which he had repeated so often after his attack on Lady -Lochore that afternoon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor stood still, palsied by the lightning stroke that -flashed into her brain: she had divided the cup between -David and her father! Now she knew who it was -Barnaby was seeking help for with such persistence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The space of time between the moments when she fled -from David’s side and reached the threshold of the laboratory -was ever a blank in Ellinor’s memory. She had -no consciousness even of Barnaby’s piteous joy at being -at last understood, of the long passages, the steep, winding -stairs, down and ever down. She never knew that -she had crossed Margery coming up with lighted candle, -and staring at them in blank amazement. She only knew -that, when she stood upon the threshold of the room that -had received her with so dear a welcome, there in his -chair, under the light of the lamp, sat Master Simon, his -grey head fallen forward on his breast. He seemed profoundly -and peacefully asleep—just as she had left David. -But even before she had laid her hand on his forehead to -find it stone cold, she knew in her heart that her father -was dead.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>Squatting on the old man’s knee, Belphegor gazed at -her inquiringly with yellow eyes.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Out of warm slumber, tinted like his books with rich -and sober hues of fawn and russet, with here and there -a glint of faded gold, Parson Tutterville was roused in -the chill encircling dawn by a cry beneath his windows—a -wild and urgent cry that drew him from his down -before he was well awake:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Uncle Horatio, for God’s sake!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And as he thrust his night-capped head out of the casement, -he asked himself if he had not suddenly wandered -into a terrible dream, for the voice went on:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My father is dead, and David, for aught I know, is -dying!”</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XVI<br> <span class='large'>THE TIME IS OUT OF JOINT</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Thou Ghost,” I said, “and is thy name To-day?—</div> - <div class='line'>Yesterday’s son, with such an abject brow!—</div> - <div class='line'>And can To-morrow be more pale than thou?”</div> - <div class='line'>While yet I spoke, the silence answered: Yea,</div> - <div class='line'>Henceforth our issue is all grieved and grey....</div> - <div class='line in24'>—<span class='sc'>Rossetti</span> (<cite>The House of Life</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The morning after Master Simon’s death was -filled for Parson Tutterville with sadder and -more responsible duties than any in his experience. -Before a stormy scarlet sun had well cleared the -eastern line of the hill he was standing with Mr. Webb -(the country practitioner) by the body of his life-long -friend, and listening to the professional verdict on the -obvious fact.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The medical man, a not particularly sagacious specimen -of his order, who had for many years treated Master -Rickart’s pursuits with the contempt of prejudice, discovered -no specific symptoms of any known toxic, declared -the death to be perfectly natural and announced -his intention of so certifying it. This decision was, in -the circumstances, too desirable not to be accepted with -alacrity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Leaving Ellinor at the head of the truckle-bed whereon -lay the shrunken figure with the waxen, silver-bearded -face—the one so pitiably small under the white sheet, the -other so startlingly great with the peace of the striving -thinker who has attained Truth at last—the Doctor of -Divinity led the Doctor of Medicine away, and hurried -him from the side of the dead to that of the living patient. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>As he mounted the weary stairs, his mind was uncomfortably -haunted by the remembrance of Ellinor’s haggard -and wistful eyes, of her unnatural composure. She -had not shed a tear, though the rector’s own eyes had -overflowed at the sound of Barnaby’s sobs. With dry -lips she had told him a brief, bald story:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My father was making experiments all day with his -new extract. I divided the sleeping draught between -him and David. Barnaby called me in the night. I -found my father dead. When I tried to rouse David, I -could not. He lies in a deep sleep in the observatory.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His insistent questions could draw no further detail -from her. It was almost like a lesson learnt off by heart; -each time she replied in exactly the same words.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Webb, who had been almost brutally superficial -upon the cause of his old antagonist’s death, became extremely -learned and involved over Sir David’s case. But -the parson, accustomed by his calling to the sight of the -sick, was happily able to see for himself that David’s -sleep, though abnormally profound, was restful; he -promptly took it upon himself to interfere when the doctor -offered to proceed to blistering and blood-letting as -a rousing treatment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Somewhat unceremoniously he insisted on his withdrawal; -and, returning himself to the observatory, stood -gazing at his friend for some time before determining on -the step of sending a post-boy into Bath for a more noted -physician. As the divine was thus pondering, David suddenly -opened his eyes, saw and recognised him, without -surprise; smiled and fell asleep again. And Dr. Tutterville -felt greatly reassured. Whatever the cup may have -contained that Ellinor had divided between the star-dreamer -and the simpler, here it was evident that nature -was working her own cure and that no other physician -was needed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Upon this the parson carefully piloted Dr. Webb out of -the tower-wing and delivered him to Giles to be ministered -unto as the hour required. Then he sent a note to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>his good lady, bidding her come and take up her post by -David’s couch until he could himself relieve her watch. -His heart was much eased.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was on his way to bring his consoling report to -Ellinor, when, at a corner of the passage, he heard his -name called in a hoarse whisper, and, looking round, beheld -Lady Lochore, ghastly-faced, in her flaming brocade -dressing-gown.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How is it with——” she cried. Something seemed to -click in her throat, she could not pronounce the name. -But Dr. Tutterville thought that her twitching hand -pointed towards the laboratory door. He shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Alas, I fear there is nothing to be done!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her lips framed the word:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dead!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then she swayed and he had to uphold her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come, come!” said he soothingly, yet shuddering all -over his comfortable flesh to feel what skeleton attenuation -lay between his hands. “My dear child, do not -give way to this. There is nothing, there can be really -nothing alarming about the passing away of one who has -attained the allotted span. Poor Simon!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She reared herself with extraordinary energy to fix -eyes full of fierce questioning upon him. He went on:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank God, I can quite reassure you about David—”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She echoed the name with what was almost a shriek; -then caught the end of her hanging sleeve and thrust it -to her mouth, as if to keep any further sound from escaping.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Did you not know?” asked the rector. “We were -in much anxiety, but whatever noxious drug was——” -he stopped unwilling to raise the question.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He saw a terror come into those strange fixed eyes. -Quite bewildered himself, he proceeded again, trying to -reassure the woman:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David’s in no danger, thank Heaven!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Dropping her hand, Lady Lochore turned upon the astonished -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>rector a countenance of such fury that he -stepped back hastily as from a madwoman.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank Heaven!” she repeated with a laugh, that -made his blood run cold. The next instant she turned -and fled from him, once more stopping her mouth with -her sleeve; in spite of which the sound of her hysterical -mirth continued to echo back to him down the vaulted -passage after she had turned the corner. The rector -remained lost in thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She is very ill—dying!” he told himself. “Lord, -thy hand is heavy on this house!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Even in the secrecy of his soul he was loth to search -into the weird feeling now encompassing him, that there -was more than illness in Lady Lochore’s face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson hoped that, under the reaction of the good -news he brought her, Ellinor might obtain the relief of -tears. But in this he was disappointed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thank you,” she said, in a whisper; and sat down -again upon the bench from which, upon his entrance, -she had risen rigidly and as if bracing herself for a final -blow. Her clenched hands relaxed; while the left lay -passive on her knee, she began with the right absently to -pat and fondle the folds of sheet that lay over her -father’s cold breast.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Dr. Tutterville looked at her in puzzled silence. The -action was full of a woman’s tenderness, yet he intuitively -felt that the thoughts behind the faintly drawn -brow, under the marble composure, were not occupied -with a daughter’s sorrow. He felt he had been denied -a confidence of vital importance. Strange things -had taken place in the house, of which he had yet no -explanation. Gently he laid the warm comfort of his -clasp upon the woman’s hand and stayed its futile caress.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear child, what is it? Can I not help?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She started, and flung a swift look at his wise and -grave face. There came a sort of fear also in her eyes. -Fear into the true eyes of Ellinor! Then she fell back -into her abstraction.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>“Thank you,” she repeated in a slow dreamy tone. “I -can wait.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was pondering over the inexplicable word, when -a new call drew him to other cares. “Two gentlemen,” -a servant informed him, “had driven over from Bath -and were demanding to see Sir David. They had not -seemed satisfied on being told that Sir David was not -well enough to receive visitors.” Visitors for Sir David! -So unwonted an event these ten years that even the rector -was moved to curiosity as he hastened to wait on the -callers.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Pacing the library were found an elderly man of military -bearing and haughty countenance, in befrogged coat -and smart Hessians, and a slight, fair youth—in the extreme -of the fashion, with an eyeglass on a black ribband, -miraculous kerseymeres, a velvet waistcoat embroidered -with gold and silver roses, and a fob with more seals and -watches than any one person could require. The elder -stranger turned to the younger with a sarcastic smile as -the door opened; and then, with a slight bow, addressed -the new-comer.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sir David Cheveral, I presume,” he began, and -stopped short.</p> - -<p class='c012'>His eyes rested in amaze upon the clerical silk hose; -ran swiftly up to the long clerical waistcoat, over its -gentle undulation across the unmistakable neckband, to -stop at last with angry insolent stare upon the clerical -countenance, handsome, dignified and self-possessed despite -a fasting morning and unshaven chin. Then he -flung another quizzical look at the younger man and -shrugged his shoulders; whereat the latter gave vent to -a shrill titter and vowed with a lisp that in all his life, -by gad, he had never come across anything so rich!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To whom have I the honour—?” asked Dr. Tutterville.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Before we waste our breath, sir, and take you away -from the thoughts of your next sermon, one word.” -Thus the military gentleman, with the tone of one in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>superior form of courtesy mockingly addressing an inferior -species. “Do you represent here Sir David -Cheveral?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sir David,” said the parson, with that serene ignoring -of impertinence which is its best rebuke, “is -unable this morning, either to receive visitors himself or -to instruct a delegate.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>For a third time the visitors exchanged looks.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A curious indisposition, evidently,” remarked the -elder, slapping his Hessians with his cane. “Cursed -curious!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Deuced opportune, by gad!” added the younger.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, sir,” said Dr. Tutterville, turning so suddenly -and severely upon the youth that he started back a couple -of paces. “No, young man, not opportune. There is -death in this house, and the master of it is wanted for -more important matters than either you or your friend -can possibly have to communicate—I wish you good -morning.” And he wheeled upon his heel with an elastic -bounce.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Before he had reached the door, however, the strident -voice of the well-booted visitor arrested him:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Tis, of course, your trade, sir, to preach the peace. -But the mere gentleman is prejudiced in favour of honour -being considered first. However, if Sir David Cheveral, -who cannot but have been prepared for our visit, -has deputed you in the interest of holy peace, perhaps -you will kindly bestow upon us now sufficient of your -reverend time to enable us to gather what form of apology -Sir David——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The reverend Horatio again turned round, this time -slowly, and showed to this trivial sneering pair a Jove-like -countenance, which the wrath of natural humanity -and the reprobation of the church combined to empurple.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He allowed the weight of his silent rebuke to press -upon them sufficiently long for their grins to give place -to looks of anger. Then he spoke. And although under -the silk meshes of his stockings the very muscles were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>quivering with the intensity of his feelings, never in hall -or pulpit had the parson delivered himself to better effect. -Yet his discourse was extremely brief:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Gentlemen—forgive me if, not having the advantage -of your acquaintance, I am forced to address you thus -indeterminedly—as regards the honour of Sir David -Cheveral, my kinsman:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="la">Falsus Honor juvat et mendax infamia terret</span></i></div> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="la">Quem nisi mendosum et mendacem?</span></i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>You may possibly fail to follow me. I will translate -liberally: The dog—aye, and the puppy—may bark at -the moon, it will not affect her brightness.... As -regards an apology, I will take upon myself to allow you -to convey this one to your principal, whoever he may be, -convinced from what I know of Sir David that he will -not repudiate the form of it:—If, as I gather, he is -called upon to give a lesson in honourable dealing to -some friend of yours, he regrets having to postpone that -duty for a short while. The delay, allow me to assure -you, will but the better enable him to fulfil his part when -the time comes. You will find paper and all that is necessary -upon yonder table. You can write your communication -to Sir David, and I will undertake to see that it is -delivered at a fitting moment.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“’Pon my soul,” said the elder ambassador, turning -to his satellite as the door closed upon the clergyman’s -dignified exit—“that’s a game old cock!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dog! by Jove—aye, and puppy!” growled the -younger man.</p> - -<p class='c012'>On the other side of the oak the rector had halted, -rubbing his unusually bristly chin, and uncomfortably -mindful of certain remarks from the still small voice -within concerning next Sunday’s sermon that was to be -upon the beatitude: “Blessed are the peacemakers.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will change my text,” thought the rector. “It -were a sorry thing for a scholar and a clergyman if there -were no issues from such accidental straits! ‘Ye shall -<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>smite them hip and thigh!’ Yes, that will do. That will -meet the case.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The excellent gentleman had scarcely settled this delicate -point with his conscience when he was intercepted -by Mrs. Geary. The lady was in a high state of indignation, -first at a death having actually been allowed to -take place in a house where she was guest, secondly and -especially at Lady Lochore having locked herself up in -her own apartments and rudely denied her admittance. -She now demanded instant means of departure for herself -and her daughter; for her man and her maid. This -the rector, with joy, promised to provide forthwith; and -even suggested that the remaining gentlemen of the -party might make use of the same conveyance with both -pleasure and profit to all concerned. But even as he was -congratulating himself upon an easy riddance of at least -one difficulty, he was plunged into a far deeper state of -perturbation by a most unexpected word:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mr. Herrick has already gone,” sniffed Priscilla, who -stood at her mother’s elbow. Her face was swollen with -crying; she spoke in a small vindictive voice which drew -the parson’s attention to her in mild surprise.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Geary tossed her head:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am glad to hear it,” she remarked icily, “and I am -surprised you should have suggested his accompanying -us.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear madam,” protested the rector, who found -the look of meaning in the lady’s protuberant eye exceedingly -discomforting. “My dear madam?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“After last night’s scandal,” said she in her deepest -bass.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Last night’s scandal!” he echoed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hush!” she cried, “I will not have the innocence of -my child further contaminated——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Contaminated, madam!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Contaminated, sir! Ask Mrs. Marvel, Dr. Tutterville! -Ask your niece!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She brushed past, hustling Priscilla before her.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>“A most unpleasant female,” thought the parson, endeavouring -to dismiss Mrs. Geary from his mind. But -she had left a disturbing impression, which was presently -to be heightened. In response to a message, courteous, -but firm, informing him at what hour the chaise would -await him, Mr. Villars next presented himself before the -rector and interrupted him in the midst of some of his sad -business details.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sir?” said the parson, at the same time arresting -by a gesture the withdrawing of the bailiff with whom he -was then in consultation. “In what can I be of service?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Dr. Tutterville, I came to offer my services -to you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are vastly obliging, Mr. Villars. The best service -friends can render a house of mourning is to leave -it to itself.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sad business—sad business this! Deyvilish!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Good-bye, sir, I trust you may have a pleasant journey. -Good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“One word, dear and reverend sir. How is—how is -Mrs. Marvel?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Bearing up fairly well, I thank you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am rejoiced. Rejoiced. After so many emotions! -Ah, I was going to suggest that it might perhaps be of -some advantage, some advantage, perhaps, to Mrs. Marvel, -were I to defer my departure for a day or two. I -would gladly do so if——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I cannot conceive,” interrupted Dr. Tutterville, “any -circumstance that would make this probable.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Villars hemmed meaningly, looked at the bailiff’s -stolid countenance, and winked importantly at the rector. -But as the latter remained unresponsive, Mr. Villars proceeded -with a point of acrimony in his tone:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No doubt Mrs. Marvel has already given satisfactory -explanation of last night’s——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sir,” interposed Dr. Tutterville, opening the study -door, “you force me to remark that my time is -valuable.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>“Your wife’s niece, sir, I understand.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mr. Villars, the chaise will be ready in half an -hour.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dr. Tutterville, you are making a mistake. I might -have been of some use. Of use, sir, as a witness, in this -unfortunate scandal——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mr. Villars, I am a clergyman, and this is a house -of mourning. But——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mr. Villars slipped suddenly like an eel through the -half-open door; for there was something ominously unclerical -both in the parson’s eye and in the twitching of his -right hand. But as Horatio Tutterville sat down to his -table and beckoned once more to the bailiff, the word -scandal weighed heavily on his heart.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Half an hour later, the comforting vision of Madam -Tutterville’s round countenance rose upon his cold distress -like a ruddy sunrise over a winter scene. But, -though she brought him upon a fair tray, crowned with a -most fragrant aroma, restoratives for the inner man as -well as excellent tidings of her patient in his tower, she -had a further budget of news which was to add considerably -to the burden of his day.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear doctor,” she said with effusion, and for once -unscripturally, “I came the instant I received your note. -David is sleeping like a lamb. You need have no anxiety -there. I shall instantly return to him. But there is no -use in the world in your making yourself ill too. You -were off without bite or sup this morning, and not one -has thought of making you so much as a cup of tea! The -world is a vastly selfish place, and I am surprised at Ellinor. -Drink this coffee, my dear doctor. I have prepared -some likewise for David—’tis a sovereign restorative. -Nay, and you must eat too.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector smiled faintly. The prospect was in sooth -not ungrateful. And now that his attention was drawn to -it, the unusual vacuity within became painfully obvious.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Excellent Sophia!” he murmured.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>Her coffee was always incomparable. It may be a moot -point whether, in moments of man’s trouble, the woman -who ministers to the creature-comforts is not the truer -helpmate than the transcendental consoler.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville watched her lord partake in silence. -That in itself was a notable thing. She showed little of -her usual satisfaction in his appetite; and that was -ominous. Her whole person was clouded over with an -anxiety which could not be attributed to her brother’s -death; a trial indeed she had promptly dismissed with -two tears and one text. As soon as the rector appeared -sufficiently fortified, Madam Tutterville drew a deep -breath; no more odious task could be assigned to her -than that of having to bring trouble to her Horatio.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is my duty to tell you, doctor, that there have -been several calls for you this morning. I went through -the village to ascertain for myself and I found indeed -some cases of serious illness. The widow Green died -suddenly last night. Joe (the hedger) has gone raving -mad; it took four men to bind him with ropes and lock -him in a barn. I heard his screams myself. Mossmason -seems struck with a kind of palsy. Penelope Jones and -old——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In God’s name,” cried the reverend Horatio, springing -to his feet, “stop, woman, or I shall go crazy -myself! What can have happened? How have we all -sinned against Heaven to be thus stricken upon the same -day!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville pursed her mouth for an awful -whisper:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They say,” she breathed, “that poor Simon went all -round the place yesterday with some of his dreadful little -bottles.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector clapped his hands on his knees:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then have we indeed been mad to let him have his -way so long!” For an instant the learned man looked -helplessly at his wife: “What is to be done?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A doctor,” she murmured.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>“A doctor—Sophia, you’re a woman in a thousand. -Not that noodle we’ve had here just now, but the best -opinion from Bath. I shall despatch a post-boy. My -poor simple flock!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He had reached the door when she caught him by the -skirts of his coat.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They are raging against poor Simon in the village, -and against Ellinor. It might well end in a riot. Had -you not better warn constables and the headborough?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He turned upon his heel in fresh dismay. Then resuming -courage:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay, nay, I must see what I can do myself first!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Madam Tutterville looked unconvinced.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I believe they would tear Ellinor in pieces, were she -to go out among them to-day. I have had to warn her. -Horatio—Horatio, have you seen Ellinor?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Dr. Tutterville nodded. For some undefined reasons -he would have given worlds not to be obliged to discuss -Ellinor just now. He tried to slip his portly person -through the door, but the hand of his spouse was still -restraining.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Do you think she could have been given any of that -dreadful stuff too? She is so strange in her manner. -And the servants are saying such extraordinary things—not -that I would allow them to do so before me—but I -could not help hearing.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With one mute look of reproach the rector wrenched -himself away.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Lord, Lord,” he was saying to himself in a grim -spirit of prophecy, as he hurried towards the stables: -“There will be but too much time I fear by and by, for -the drawing to light of poor Ellinor’s affairs whatever -they may be.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Love is the crown of life: a life without love is a life -wasted. Not necessarily must the love that crowns be -that of lovers: love of saint for God, of soldier for -captain, of comrade for comrade, of student for master, -of partisan for King; or, again, love for the abstract -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>object, of artist for art; of patriot for country, of philanthropist -for the cause, of seekers for science—one such -great love in a life is sufficient to fill it to the brim, to -absorb all its energy. But how few are capable of the -passion that shall crown them heroes or saints, leaders of -thought or of men! Though every man and every woman -avidly claim to possess in the full the power of natural -love, <em>the real lover is a genius</em>. And genius, of its essence, -is rare. To nearly all it is given to strum the tune, to -how few is it given to bring forth the full harmony!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor had one of those rare natures especially designed -for the heights and the deeps of love. It had been -for many years her curse that some indefinable charm, -quite apart from her beauty and strength, should, wherever -she went, make her the desire of men’s eyes. But -she herself had passed as untouched by the flame, -through her too early marriage and the ordeals to which -she had been recklessly exposed, as true gold through -the test-furnace.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now, like a wave that has been gathering from the -fulness of the ocean’s bosom, the great waters had broken -over her and were sweeping her on.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As she sat by her father’s body she tried to force the -image of her loss upon her mind—in vain. One single -idea absorbed her; the whole energy of her being was -with David. Anon she recalled every instant of his fantastic -wooing of the previous night. Anon she would -be seized with an agony of terror about his present condition. -Again she would float away in a vague warm -dream of the moment when he should awaken.... -Awaken and remember! People addressed her, and she -answered mechanically; but, even while answering, forgot -the speaker’s presence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>When Madam Tutterville came to conduct her to her -room that night, Ellinor was aware that she had walked -through a group of whispering and pointing servants; -and she was indifferent. She felt that the good lady herself -was looking at her with strange, anxious gaze; and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>she merely smiled vaguely back. Her soul was in the -tower.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville wore a grave countenance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Have you nothing to say to me, Ellinor?” she asked -at length.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor hesitated a second; she wanted to beg for a -share in the watch by David’s side; wanted to hear repeated -once more the last reassuring news. But the -deeper the passion the more closely the woman draws the -veil about her; she could not even speak his name.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nothing, dear aunt,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville shook her head in troubled fashion, -sighed and withdrew.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XVII<br> <span class='large'>TREACHERIES OF SILENCE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——Slander, meanest spawn of Hell,</div> - <div class='line'>And woman’s slander is the worst...!</div> - <div class='line in20'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>The Letters</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>On the following morning Margery drew the curtains -of Lady Lochore’s bed and looked down -upon her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was ten o’clock, and not even the barred shutters, -not even the heavy hangings, could keep shafts of sunshine -from piercing through. Lady Lochore wanted to -shut out the light and the day and the world: whatever -the news might be that the morning was to bring, whether -of life or of death, they were fearful to her. And now, -though she knew well enough whose eyes were fixed upon -her, she feigned sleep. Margery, on her side, perfectly -aware of the pretence, drew a stool with ostentatious precautions -to the bedside, sat down and waited. But the -feeling of being watched became quickly intolerable. Lady -Lochore rolled petulantly over on her pillows.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What in God’s name do you want? Great heavens, -one would imagine that you at least would know better -than to disturb me!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My lady,” cooed Margery, “Sir David is awake.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore sat bolt upright and, under the thin -cambric and lace that fell in such empty folds over her -bosom, the sudden leaping of her heart was visible.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Awake!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, my lady—awake and up. I thought it my duty -to let your ladyship know.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You have seen him! You——?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A horrible hope danced like a flame in her eyes; but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>even to Margery she dared not speak the question that -would make it patent.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Quite himself, yes, my lady,” went on the steady -tones, answering as usual the unspoken thought. There -was a lengthy silence. Then Margery began again: -“Whatever drug Mrs. Marvel gave Sir David, it has -done him good, my lady. I’ve not known Sir David look -so well, nor speak so dear and sensible since before his—his -great illness.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Mrs. Nutmeg had respectfully shifted her gaze from -her ladyship’s countenance to a knot of ribbons at -her ladyship’s breast. But, nevertheless, Maud Lochore -felt that her criminal soul was being mercilessly laid -bare.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Leave me alone,” she said faintly, leaning back on -her pillow and turning her head away.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I think your ladyship had better get up,” said Margery -Nutmeg, and stood her ground.</p> - -<p class='c013'>By the time Maud Lochore, robed and tired, had sailed -from her apartments, with head set high and determined -step, to seek her brother, the housekeeper was able to -retreat to her own room with the feeling that the morning’s -eloquence of insinuation had not been altogether -wasted. What though Fortune still seemed to favour -Mrs. Marvel, the path of that would-be mistress of Bindon -might yet, after all, be made rough enough to trip -her.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Sir David turned his head as the door of the library -opened, and Lady Lochore was involuntarily brought to -a halt in her indignant entry. Those clear eyes! The -steady, peaceful gaze was that of a man looking upon -health returned after long sickness. Margery was right. -She was right! Sir David was himself again; and the -coiling, twisting serpents within her seemed to nip at -her heart in their thwarted fury. Hers had been the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>hand to fill this magic cup! She could have laughed -aloud for the irony at it. Then there came a second -thought, lashing her with an unknown terror! Was -God himself against her, that the poison which had uselessly -brought death and madness to so many besides -old Simon, should here have turned to a healing remedy?</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David and the rector had been engaged in earnest -converse for the last hour. The matter of the challenge -had first demanded their attention. Sir David had, with -a contemptuous smile, perused the letter left on his table, -had listened to Dr. Tutterville’s account of the interview -without comment and briefly dismissed the subject with -the announcement of his intention to send a messenger to -Bath that day. His whole treatment of the affair was -such as vastly pleased the old-fashioned spirit of the -parson—a duly shaven parson, this morning, who could -not keep the beam of satisfaction from his glance every -time it rested upon his companion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And yet it was a rare complication of troubles they -had to face. Three deaths in the village, besides that of -the poor old alchemist himself; a case of madness, and -one or two of minor brain disturbance. And a general -threatening resentment throughout the parish. Good -cause indeed had the spiritual and the secular masters of -Bindon for consultation together; little cause had they -to welcome interruption. But both gentlemen rose with -due courtesy; and while the parson placed a chair, Sir -David took his sister’s hand and led her to it, inquiring -upon her health.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She looked up at him without speaking, an exceedingly -bitter smile on her lips. Yes, there was no doubt about -it: her brother stood before her, master of himself, master -of his fate once more.</p> - -<p class='c012'>In the silence, the two men exchanged a glance as -upon some pre-decided arrangement. Then the rector -spoke:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“These sad events have necessarily postponed your -departure; but, believe me, my dear Maud, you will do -<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>well, and it is also David’s opinion, to delay it no longer -than this afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore clutched the arms of her chair.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“We anticipate some excitement among the villagers,” -pursued the parson. “Then there is the ceremony to-morrow. -You are unfortunately in no state of health -to risk painful emotions. And, in fact, David would not -be doing his duty did he not insist upon your being safely -out of the way.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore rose stiffly.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And Mrs. Marvel?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector fell back a pace; the hissing word had -struck him like a stone. But Sir David stepped forward, -a light flame mounting to his brow.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Does David consider it his duty to have Mistress -Marvel also removed from this dangerous house?” she -inquired, and her voice broke on a shrill laugh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Maud,” said her brother, almost under his breath, -“have a care!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Lady Lochore had let herself go; the serpents -were hissing, ready to strike. Glib words of venom fell -from her lips:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“His duty! Touching solicitude all at once for my -humble self! ’Tis vastly flattering, my God! What a -model host, so preoccupied about his guests! Excellent -Rector, is this your work? A conversion you may well -be proud of: but is it not a little abrupt for security?” -A hard cough here cut the thread of her tirade. And the -acrid taste of blood, loathsome reminder of doom, brought -her suddenly from irony to open rage: “Yes, turn your -sister out of the house! Turn your flesh and blood from -your doors! But house the wanton, cherish the abandoned -wretch that dares to call herself our kin, that -brought under Bindon’s roof practices that would disgrace -Cremorne! Keep Mrs. Marvel, Sir David Cheveral, -put her tarnished honour in our mother’s place and you—and -you—you sanctimonious old man, give the blessing -of the church upon that degrading union! Oh, Mistress -<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>Marvel is a young, comely woman, and David is -indeed converted! This time, I am glad to see, he has -been more practical than with his other—lady!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Silence!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was not that the word rang very loud, or that Sir -David’s mien was threatening; but, as she herself had -grasped the truth a little while ago, that he was master. -It seemed to her now as if she must wither before him. -Her voice, her laugh sank into the silence bidden. Then -Sir David turned:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She is mad!” he said, addressing the rector, and -made a gesture with his hand as if dismissing a subject -painful in the abstract, but unimportant to himself.</p> - -<p class='c013'>His sister’s glance followed his movement to alight -upon Dr. Tutterville. Then the cowering snakes reared -their crests again. If he had to be slain for it, the parson -could not have kept a look of perturbation, almost of -guilt from his countenance; and the woman was quick -to see it. She pointed her finger at him:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ask the reverend gentleman if I am so mad. Ask -him if some account of the virtues of his niece has not -already reached his consecrated ears! Oh, brother -David, the mere stretching of a cloak is not quite sufficient -to hide scandal.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Scandal!—that evil word again! The more burningly -it stung the parson, the more gallantly he resisted the -doubt.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Maud,” said he firmly; “hearing is one thing, believing, -thank Heaven, is another. Those who would -assail Ellinor Marvel’s honour, I should be inclined to -rebuke much more severely than David has done. Madness? -No, Lady Lochore, but deliberate falsehood, the -fruit of Envy, Malice and all uncharitableness.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor Marvel’s honour!” said Sir David. He repeated -the words steadily, then threw up his head and -slightly uplifted his eyes and looked away as if fixing -some entrancing vision.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>Health of body and health of mind had, it seemed, -been restored to him by the cup of strange mixing. The -morbid doubt, the fever, the long oppression—all were -gone. He had faith where he loved. The expression of -his face drove the furious woman nigh to the madness -he had proclaimed.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor Marvel’s honour!” she repeated in her turn, -“the honour of a woman, who receives her lover in her -room at midnight!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector gave a short groan; it might have been -horror or indignation. Sir David merely turned to stare -at his sister; then he smiled in contemptuous pity.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, David, David!” cried Lady Lochore, shaking -in an agony of laughter and rage, “whom do you think -to take in with these hypocritical airs, this ostrich concealment? -It is, of course, your interest to hush things -up. Naturally! But—”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He would not permit her to finish:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Naturally it is my interest,” he said, hotly, “to defend -a woman whom I know to be as innocent of what -you accuse her as I am myself; in whose honour I believe -as in my own.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>In the diplomacy of life, how often does the course of -fate turn to unexpected channels upon the mere speaking -of one word. At the strenuous instant of the conflict of -purpose, how far-reaching may be the consequence of one -phrase, perhaps pronounced too soon, or left unsaid too -long!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Had David not thus cut short the speech on his sister’s -lips, her very next word would have rendered the object -of her hatred the best service that at such a strange -juncture could have been devised; and she would at the -same time have dashed for ever the success of her last -desperate scheme. The revealing accusation that still hung -on her tongue was barely arrested in time. With her -familiar gesture, she had to clap her hand to her -mouth.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why, great God! He knows nothing! he remembers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>nothing! First madness, then long, long sleep! Old -man, I thank thee for that fantastic drug!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>Over her gagging hand Lady Lochore’s eyes danced -with a flame so fierce and unholy that the bewildered and -unhappy parson shuddered. He felt instinctively as if -the meshes of the web which seemed to have been skilfully -flung round Ellinor were tightening in remorseless -hands. The very deliberation, the sudden calmness which -presently came over Lady Lochore filled him with a yet -deeper foreboding. She dropped her hand, stood a moment, -tall and straight and dignified, as if wrapt in -thought, her countenance composed: a noble looking -woman, in spite of the ravages of disease, now that the -unlovely mask of fury had fallen from her. Then she -turned to Sir David, who had deliberately seated himself -at his papers as if for him the discussion were ended, -and said:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Since neither brother nor kinsman believe my word -worthy of credit, I am forced to bring other testimony—much -as I should wish to spare myself and this house -the humiliation.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stretched her hand to the bell-rope, and the parson -upon an impulse of weakness for which he immediately -chided himself, stretched out his own to arrest her. But -David, without looking up from his writing, said gently: -“Let her call up whom she will.” And Lady Lochore -demanded Mrs. Nutmeg’s appearance.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My friends,” she added, after a spell of brooding -silence, once more addressing her brother, “have been -so summarily turned out of this house that their immediate -evidence is unobtainable. A letter to Bath, however, -would produce their attendance or their answer by -writing if——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But at this point Margery knocked at the door. Slowly -Sir David looked up:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I may as well tell you at once,” said he, “that were -you to fetch witnesses from the four corners of the globe, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>there is but one person’s word which I would be willing -to take in this matter—and hers I do not intend to ask -for.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector gazed in astonishment upon the determined -speaker. This confidence, he thought, showed almost -like a new phase of eccentricity; it was as exaggerated -in its way as the previous universal distrust of humanity -and more likely to be followed by a reaction. Sir David -had but shortly before informed him that since the moment -when he had received the sleeping draught from -Ellinor’s hand, he had not met her. His attitude seemed -the more inexplicable. But Dr. Tutterville was now -all anxious to clear up this strange matter; for, since -Lady Lochore’s excited entrance upon the scene, he had -become convinced that Ellinor was the victim of some -cunning conspiracy, and was increasingly ashamed of his -own previous misgivings.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Nay, David,” he cried, interposing sudden authority, -“that is not fair to Mrs. Marvel. She must have the -opportunity of self-vindication; she must be urged to -speak that word which we indeed do not need, but without -which, slanderous tongues will continue to wag. See, -yonder she goes,” he added, pointing through the window.</p> - -<p class='c012'>David then, without a word, rose and went to the -open casement; he beckoned and called:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor! Can you come to me?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Margery Nutmeg took a few humble steps aside and -remained in a shadowy corner.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XVIII<br> <span class='large'>GONE LIKE A DREAM</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>... My sweet dream</div> - <div class='line'>Fell into nothing.</div> - <div class='line'>Ah, my sighs, my tears,</div> - <div class='line'>My clenched hands;—for, lo! the poppies hung</div> - <div class='line'>Dew-dabbled on their stalk, the ousel sung</div> - <div class='line'>A heavy ditty, and the sullen day</div> - <div class='line'>Had chidden herald Hesperus away</div> - <div class='line'>With leaden looks.</div> - <div class='line in26'>—<span class='sc'>Keats</span> (<cite>Endymion</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Ellinor entered the room.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The heartless wretch!” thought Lady Lochore, -with the marvellous inconsequence of -hatred, “her old father lying dead and she in all these -colours!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the next glance showed her that the only colours -Ellinor wore were those that cannot be doffed at will—gold -of hair, rose of cheek, blue of eye and dazzling -white of throat. The flower had opened wide to the sun -of great love! The presence of death itself cannot rob -the living thing of the beauty of its destined hour.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor’s arms, moreover, were full of branching leaves -and strange blossoms. She had had the womanly thought -to lay upon her father’s body a wreath made of the plants -he had loved. Purple and mauve, crimson and orange, -with foliage of many greens, it was a sheaf of rich hues -she held against her black dress; and she seemed to -bring with her into the room all the breath of the Herb-Garden -and all its imprisoned sunshine.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had walked straight in, seeking and seeing no -one but David. He was still standing and, as she halted -he moved nearer to her. For a while they were silent, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>gazing on each other. And her beauty seemed to grow -into brighter and brighter radiance.—Every woman is a -goddess once at least in her life. But Ellinor stood upon -her Olympian height but for a short moment.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Marvel!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>At the first sound of Lady Lochore’s voice, at the -sight of Margery’s face, she fell from her pinnacle, suddenly -and piteously. Why were these, her enemies, here, -and why had she been convened into their presence? Why -did the rector sit there like a judge and wear that uneasy -countenance? Her brain whirled. It could fasten on no -settled thought. But in the great crisis of life what -woman trusts to thought when she can feel! Ellinor -felt:—this bodes evil! Yet David had looked at her -with beautiful eyes of faith and gladness. Her fate was -in his hands, what then had she to fear? She turned -her glance again upon him. In spite of her boding heart -she trusted.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Marvel,” said Lady Lochore. “I have considered -it my duty to speak to my brother on the subject of -the painful episode of the other night.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor crimsoned to the roots of her hair, to the tips -of her fingers. She dropped her eyes. Yet in the midst -of all the agony of woman’s modesty outraged before the -man she loved, there remained a deep sweetness of anticipation -in her heart. She waited, motionless, for the -touch of his hand, the sound of his voice that should -proclaim her his bride. She waited. The silence enveloped -her like a pall. Lady Lochore laughed and the -blood rushed back to Ellinor’s heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was everything in that cry, everything in the -look she cast upon him, to appeal to a man’s chivalry, to -his honour, to his love: the pride of the innocent woman, -the reproach of the wronged woman, the trust of the -loving woman. And David spoke:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You need say nothing, Ellinor, need not condescend -to answer.”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>Alas, what vindication was this!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Does Mrs. Marvel deny then,” resumed Lady Lochore, -“that she was discovered two nights ago——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David lifted his hand and his voice in a superb unison -of anger:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Be silent. It is I who deny it! And let that suffice!” -Then he went on rapidly, with more self-control yet still -vibrating with indignation: “I know this to be a base -lie, an iniquitous conspiracy. Your motives, my poor -sister, are but too obvious! Your treatment of our kinswoman -who has brought comfort and gladness to my -house, has been odious from the first moment of your -uninvited presence here. This is the climax! Now hear -my last word:—not only is Mrs. Marvel, as I know her, -incapable of desecrating the hospitality she honours me -by accepting, but she is incapable of harbouring an unworthy -thought.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David’s countenance was lit by every generous impulse. -Yet each vindicating word fell upon Ellinor’s ear -like the sounds of her death sentence—death to both -honour and happiness! A chasm was opening before her -feet, the depths of which she could not yet fathom. One -thing alone was dawning upon her moment by moment, -with more inexorable light—<em>David did not know! All -this had been but a dream to him.</em> And even as a dream -he remembered nothing. <em>He did not remember!</em> Unconsciously -she repeated to herself, even as Lady Lochore -awhile before: <em>Madness and then sleep!</em> He knew -nothing of his own vows of love to her, he knew nothing -of his own words of passion! <em>He did not know; and -her lips were sealed!</em></p> - -<p class='c012'>At first Lady Lochore wondered whether David were -playing a deep and subtle game; whether the two were -in collusion. But a glance from his transfigured countenance -to Ellinor’s stricken look, the sight of the rector’s -evident perturbation, her own knowledge of the crystal -truth of her brother’s character, promptly dispelled the -doubt. The game was hers!</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>“All well and good,” said she. “Your cavalier attitude, -most romantic David, is fit to grace the pages of -the latest Scotch novel! But allow me to point out that -it will not pass current in the every day world. Besides -the fact that these eyes of mine and those of my friends -beheld a scene in Mrs. Marvel’s room the like of which -our honourable house never sheltered before, Margery -Nutmeg can tell you how she heard an adventurous -climber mount to Mrs. Marvel’s window. How Joyce, -your head-keeper, met Colonel Harcourt, skulking through -the park at midnight—”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Dr. Tutterville started. David made no movement, but -something in his very stillness showed that the words -had struck him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mr. Villars, again, could have informed you, how he -came upon Mr. Herrick and Colonel Harcourt brawling -on the bridge an hour later, both in torn garments and -as highly incensed one against the other, as only -rivals——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Needless, all this,” said Ellinor, in a low clear voice. -She had flung back her head and stood, white as death, -but composed, holding herself as proudly as a queen. -“I deny nothing. It would be useless to deny, did I -wish it, what Lady Lochore and her friends and Mrs. -Nutmeg have seen for themselves.” She paused, then -resumed, gaining firmness in voice and manner: “I give -you the truth, in so far as I am myself concerned. Judge -of me as you will. Barnaby escaped from his room after -my father had locked him up, climbed up to my window, -where I let him in—”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Barnaby,” exclaimed the parson with a loud burst of -relieved laughter. “’Pon my word, a pretty storm in a -tea-cup, Maud Lochore!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore grew grey, save for the bloody fingerprint -of death upon either cheek.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And was it Barnaby,” she hissed, “whom you covered -with your cloak, to hide him from our eyes?”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>Ellinor flung a glance of a sad, yet lovely self-abnegation -upon David before she answered:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, it was not Barnaby.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>For all its melancholy ring of renunciation the word -could not have fallen from her lips in a tone of more -exquisite sweetness had it been an avowal of love in the -ear of the only one who had a right to demand it. The -love that makes the willing martyr, as well as the pride -that can face ignominy, had enabled her to surmount the -failing of her heart over this bitterness. Was she not -bound to silence by a thousand shackles of loyalty, of -woman’s reticence, of elementary delicacy, of love for -him? The sacrifice was for him. He must never know -that it was his madness that had wronged her in the -world’s eyes. Her hand could not deal this blow to his -fastidious honour. <em>Moreover, had it not been all a dream?</em> -How did she know that, waking, he could love her as -he had loved her in his dream? Nay, his very defence of -her, his calmness and freedom from jealousy seemed to -her aching heart to argue a mere friendliness incompatible -with passion. Thus for herself, too, her pride -could endure to stand with tarnished fame before him, -but could not stoop to demand the reparation she knew -he would so quickly have offered. She went on, steadily -ignoring alike the rector’s shocked distress, Lady Lochore’s -triumph and Margery’s insolent silence.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“After Barnaby had taken refuge with me—some one, -a man, entered my room. He did not know what he was -doing. And because of that I shall never tell his name.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Lady Lochore quailed before the high soul and generous -heart of the woman she was ruining; and quailing, -abashed, shamed in her own tempest-tossed desperate -nature, hated her but the more.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The poor rector clacked his tongue aloud in dismay, -chiding himself for his over-zeal. He had meant to -straighten matters, and, lo, they were more inextricably -knotted than ever! Here was a mystery to which he had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>not the beginning of a clue. No man of his mind and -heart could look upon Ellinor and deem her a wanton as -she now stood; and yet both her self-accusation and her -reticence proclaimed how deeply she must love the unknown -man she could thus shield with her own honour. -Was this the end of all their fond secret hopes for Bindon!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now David gazed at Ellinor almost as if the old dream-palsy -had returned upon him. As in a dream, too, he -seemed to see again some past picture which had foretold -this hour. Thus on the first day of her return to -Bindon had he seen her pass from sunshine and colour -and brilliancy into darkness; seen the goddess turn to a -pale woman in a black dress. Was this what his house -had brought upon her!</p> - -<p class='c012'>His eyes dilated with pity, his whole being seemed to -become broken by pity, given over to pity, till, for the -moment, there was no room for any other feeling. Pity -of the man for the woman, of the strong for the weak. -He sank back into his seat and shaded his eyes with his -hand. He could not look upon that high golden head -abased.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Ellinor had lost little of her proud bearing. Love -is royalty, and royalty can walk to the scaffold as if to -the throne.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I cannot think,” she said with a pale smile, “that -Lady Lochore can have any further need of my testimony.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Stay, stay!” cried Dr. Tutterville. “There is more -in this than meets the eye. Ellinor, you have let yourself -be caught in some cunning trap!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Uncle Horatio,” answered she, “you are right. Yes, -things are not as you think.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And upon this enigmatic phrase she left them.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Lady Lochore went straight up to her child. She told -herself she was extraordinarily happy. She had been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span>providentially saved from fratricide and yet had encompassed -her end:—Ellinor’s position at Bindon had at last -been rendered untenable. And her boy’s inheritance -was safe! She hugged him, teased him, rollicked with -him till he shrieked with joy. But for all that her heart -was well-nigh as heavy within her as it had been upon -her awakening; if she had not her brother’s death on her -conscience, it could not acquit her of all share in Master -Simon’s sudden end. David and he had shared the same -cup—that was servant’s talk all through the house. And -how much did Margery know? That inscrutable woman -was now at her elbow; and the sleek and meaning words -that fell from her lips, the very feeling of her shadowy -presence irritated the guilty woman almost beyond -bounds. Yet she could not, dared not, dismiss this -Margery.</p> - -<p class='c013'>David lifted a grave face from his shielding hands, -looked at Dr. Tutterville and then, arrested by a gesture -the words brimming on the elder man’s lips:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Hush! Do not let us discuss this now.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson, wondering, saw him sort his papers and -lay them aside, then ring the bell, and again send for -Margery. Sir David looked at her for a brief moment -as she stood before him apparently wrapt in her usual -smug composure, but, by the twitching of her hands and -the furtive working of her lips, betraying some hidden -agitation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Margery Nutmeg,” said her master then, “in an hour -you leave my house and my service.” A sudden livid fury -came over the woman’s face. But David’s gesture, his -determined speech bore down the inarticulate protest -that broke from her. “It is useless to attempt to make -me alter my decision. I know how you have considered -me bound by promise to your husband, and how you have -traded upon it. That promise, in so far as I consider it -binding, I shall keep till you die. You shall receive -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>fit and sufficient maintenance from me. But in my house -or upon my estate you shall dwell no more.” He dismissed -her with a wave of the hand, merely adding: “If -you present yourself at the bailiffs office in an hour, -you will receive your money. Go!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And Margery went, without another word.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, David,” said the reverend Horatio admiringly, -“had you but done this earlier!” And in his heart -was the thought, based upon too unsubstantial ground -to put it into words: “Then things would surely not -stand now at this pass!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David made no reply. He did not even seem -to hear. He was seated at his writing table, inditing a -letter of reply to Colonel Harcourt’s friend. As he wrote, -the crimson of a deep, slow-burning resentment mounted -to his face.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Lady Lochore’s enforced departure fitted in well enough -in her mind with the new turn of events. Now that -Master Simon was dead, Ellinor’s residence at Bindon -became an impossibility so soon as she herself had gone. -To be sure Madam Tutterville might give her niece harbourage; -but Lady Lochore was quite satisfied that if -she had failed to convince the rector of Mrs. Marvel’s -frailty the rector’s wife had been more easy to deal with. -Therefore she hurried on her preparations with a sick -desire to escape from surroundings charged with such -ugly memories. Even as the four horses drew the travelling -chaise up to the door she stood ready in the hall, -feverishly hustling her servants.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David was there too, attentive to speed his sister’s -parting, but certes, with even less warmth than he had -welcomed her arrival. She spoke her bitterly sarcastic -word of thanks. He answered by the cold wish that her -health might have been benefited, according to her hopes, -by her visit to her home of old. This time even the -kiss upon the hand was omitted. But as he was leading -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>her across the threshold, her mood changed hysterically:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David,” said she, in a panting whisper, “oh, no, you -cannot let me go like this! Some day you’ll thank me for -having saved you ... for you are saved a second time.” -She could not keep the taunt out of her mouth. “After -all, I am your only sister, and this is the last time we -shall ever meet. I am dying!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My only sister died to me ten years ago,” said David. -His tone was quite unmoved; and he added, almost in the -same breath: “There is a high wind rising, you had -better wrap your cloak over your mouth.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She struck away in fury the hand that held hers, ran -down the steps alone, and sprang into the carriage, where, -seizing the child, she held him up at the window in a sort -of vengeful mute defiance that, louder than any shriek, -spoke her secret meaning: “Fool, you shall not keep this -hated flesh and blood from ruling in your place some -day!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>As the wheels began to crunch round in the gravel, -she suddenly became aware of a dull grey face and black -eyes looking upon her out of the shade of the opposite -seat. It was not her maid! A shudder ran through her -frame. She stared without speaking.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Margery’s voice was silky as ever:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Asking your pardon, my lady, I made so bold. Mamselle -Josephine is in the other coach. Sir David has dismissed -me. But I knew your ladyship would offer me a -home and welcome, seeing that it is my devotion to your -ladyship that’s lost me my bread and my station in my -old age. I made so bold,” repeated Mrs. Nutmeg, and -the veiled threat was all the more awful to the listener -because of the unemotional tone, “knowing your ladyship’s -heart as I know it.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Mamma,” cried the spoilt child, “let me go! I don’t -like your cold hands!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And thus, with Nemesis by her side, Lady Lochore -left Bindon-Cheveral for the last time, and drove through -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>the gathering storm on her speedy way to die Valley of -the Shadows.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Ellinor took her last look at her father’s face and laid -the wreath of herbs at his feet and a sprig of his -Euphrosinum, fatal plant! upon his breast.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville, in wifely solicitude for her Horatio’s -unphilosophic depression, had insisted on his returning -with her to the rectory. Without her, Ellinor -could not remain at Bindon. But even had it not been -so, to abide as David’s guest would have been the one -thing to render her trouble unbearable. And there was -nothing in the last cruel details that precede the returning -of earth to earth to make her desire to linger in -the death-chamber. She, therefore, accepted her aunt -Sophia’s offer of hospitality. Had she not been all absorbed -in her own troubles the lady’s altered manner, and -the rebuffingly Christian spirit in which the invitation -was offered, might have struck her painfully. But she -was past noticing such things.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The falling dusk of that miserable day found her at -the door of the tower-wing, Barnaby at her side loaded -with her modest baggage, Belphegor ruffled and protesting -under her arm. She was dry-eyed: there is an -arid misery the desolation of which no well-spring can -relieve. In this silent company she sallied out.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A dumb boy, and a cat! After these months of full -life, after her gorgeous dream of happiness—this was all -that was left her. The road that had opened before her, -alluring, fantastic almost in its promise, had led to this -desolation.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The Star-Dreamer sat by the open coffin in the laboratory, -his head bent, his hands clasped upon his knees, -holding between them the sprig of the Euphrosinum -which he had absently taken from the heap of wild -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>flowers that lay on his old friend’s breast. He was absorbed -in thought.</p> - -<p class='c012'>A great silence was in the room erstwhile so filled with -a thousand minute sounds of restless energy. Extinct -the hearth; extinct the furnace which for over twenty -years had glowed night and day; mute all the little voices, -cold the matras and crucibles, all as silent and as cold, as -extinguished as the once eager brain of their master. -But the watcher’s mind was seething with keen thoughts, -busy sorrows. He had lost her—she was gone! She -who had come like a lovely vision to this house when -it was held as under a spell of twilight dreaming; who -had reanimated it with her own life; who had brought, as -she had promised, sunshine into its dusk, fresh air into -its stagnation, sweetness where the must had lain; she -was gone from his sweet hopes, gone in sorrow and -shame! Her bright head dimmed as even now was his -star under the clouds that were gathering thick and -thicker with the brooding storm.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And he, the Star-Dreamer? He had been called back -from his unnatural life of solitude, step by step had been -brought down from his height, had been taught once -more to see the fairness of earth, had been made to feel -the desire of the eyes, to hear the cry of his forgotten -manhood: all to the end of this vault, this chamber of -death, this knowledge of loss. Yet, no! She had once -said to him in an unforgettable hour: “Sometimes a -harboured sorrow is only fancied, not real; and it may be -that real adversity must come to make us see it.” And -now he felt that she had been right. His reawakened -virility was strong within him. True, he had for a second -time, and in middle life, been struck to the heart; -yet, strange working of Fate! the new sorrow seemed -not only to drive away the last remnant of the old, but -actually to strengthen and arm him again for the fight -of life. Although from his long sleep he had carried -forth no conscious memory of a dream, that hour spent -in Ellinor’s room when, in the body’s weakness, his spirit -<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>had come so close to hers, had left an ineffaceable stamp -upon his mind. He had asked her, in trouble: “Can -I trust you?” She had answered him: “To the death,” -and he had believed. And now, though he had seen her -stand self-accused before him, he believed still.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The crisis often heralds the cure. He was cured of -his strange palsy of mind, of his infirmity of purpose, -of his sick melancholy. He was a fighting man again -in a world where everything must be fought for, above -all things happiness. Cured—aye, but too late! She, -the joy he might but a few weeks before have taken for -his own, she had passed from his gates.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Cured, made strong again.... How? By what? -In that soothing draught, of whose nature he had known -nothing, but which her own hand had prepared, had -she steeped a branch of that wondrous plant which held -so many unknown properties? Had that given him a -new life and sanity while it had brought death or madness -to others? Ah, no! The transformation was her -own doing. She had found him weak and ignorant of -the one beauty of life, and left him strong, awakened. -Awakened, but desolate.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER XIX<br> <span class='large'>GREY DEPARTURE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Here then she comes.—I’ll have a bout with thee:</div> - <div class='line'>Devil, or devil’s dam!...</div> - <div class='line'>Blood will I draw on thee—thou art a witch!</div> - <div class='line'>And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv’st!</div> - <div class='line in26'>—<span class='sc'>Shakespeare</span> (<cite>Henry VI.</cite>)</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The next morning, at an hour unwontedly early -for such a ceremony, they laid Master Simon’s -remains to rest in the family vault. The discontent -in the village, aroused by the series of mishaps -attendant on the simpler’s last experiments and fostered -of late by Margery’s subtle calumnies, had been fanned -to fury by her last round of farewell visits. The death -of the warlock himself had little effect in assuaging the -new-risen hatred which now was aimed at his living -daughter.</p> - -<p class='c013'>It was a morning of weeping skies; a fine rain-shroud -enveloped the land; Bindon looked desolate enough to -be mourning a mightier scion than this poor eccentric -old child. The creepers clung to the tower and the ruins, -like sodden garments. The blurred panes looked like -tear-dimmed eyes. The dripping flag of Bindon-Cheveral -hung at half-mast, so limp and darkened with wet that -it might have been a funeral scarf.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The ceremonial was performed before a congregation -pitiable in its tenuity. Beyond the sexton, the clerk, old -Giles and sobbing Barnaby, not another human being -escorted the dead student to his last home, save the narrow -circle of his own kinsfolk. Not one of the many he -had helped in life, or of the many he had healed, could remember -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>his debt of gratitude, so little did the many -lives he had saved weigh against those few he had -lost.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Good Doctor Tutterville officiated with something less -than his usual dignity. He was painfully distracted. -There were two or three raw graves yawning, without, -in the little wet churchyard, that felt to his kind heart as -if they had been dug into it. He was anxious too; his -ear was strained for the dreaded sound of angry voices -breaking in upon the sanctity of his dead. The words -of the solemn service escaped his lips in haste, and he -breathed a sigh of relief when at last the great stone -was rolled back into its place and, the keys being returned -to his own possession, he knew his old friend’s remains -were safe from desecration.</p> - -<p class='c012'>When he emerged from the vestry with David beside -him, both instinctively looked round for Ellinor. But -she was gone, and Madam Tutterville, her round face -for once the image of dissatisfaction, could or would give -them no information on the subject. Her high nostril -and short answer quite sufficiently indicated that she -regarded Ellinor’s departure and their curiosity concerning -it as equally unbecoming.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No doubt you will find her at the rectory, if you -wish,” she remarked with a snort.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But here old Giles, who had betaken his way back to -the House—the thought of his restored keys and the comfort -of a glowing glass on such a morning luring him to -a sort of shuffling trot—returned hastily to the church, -emotion of a very different kind lending speed to his -clogged limbs:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“They were up at the house,” he explained, panting, -“a score of them, and even more on the way! They were -in the Herb-Garden; they had sworn to leave standing -neither stick nor leaf! They had broken into Master -Simon’s laboratory, laying about them like mad! They -meant to leave no bottle or powders of the sorcerer to -poison any more of them!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>Sir David and the rector looked at each other as the -same thought flashed into each brain: Ellinor!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then they started off running. It was a fearful possibility -that the daughter might have returned to either -of her father’s haunts; and the thought of the danger -to which she was exposed amid an angry, ignorant rabble -was hardly to be framed in words.</p> - -<p class='c013'>But Ellinor had had but little time to bestow on the -sensibility of grief.</p> - -<p class='c012'>An interview which her aunt had inflicted upon her -the previous night had taught her that the last day’s -events had left her poorer even than she had reckoned. -Her hope had been to find a few days’ harbourage in the -rectory and the counsel of friends, before sailing further -on the bitter waters of life. She had hoped—God knows -what a woman will hope, so long as she is in the neighbourhood -of her beloved! But Madam Tutterville’s very -first words had called her pride in arms.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The lady had gathered good store of awful texts and -apposite instances wherewith to lace her discourse; and -before a tithe of them had been delivered, Ellinor, scarlet-faced -and writhing, had felt herself sullied in all her -chastest instincts by the mere fact of listening.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville looked upon this case as well within -her competence: she had not consulted with her lord. -But her self-sufficiency overreached her purpose. It was -little likely that her pragmatic methods should have extracted -the humble and full confession from her niece -which seemed to be demanded by every authority, old or -new, even had the young widow’s steadfastness been less -complete than it was.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Above the turmoil of Ellinor’s emotions one thing soon -became clear: not an hour longer than possible could -she remain under this roof. The bread of Madam Tutterville -would stick in her throat. The cold charity of -strangers would be sweet compared with the bounty of -one that could think so meanly of her own kin. Ellinor -<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>was indignant, Madam Tutterville severe; so true it is -that where most the human of all feelings is concerned, -the best and most tender-hearted woman seems suddenly -merciless. They parted in anger.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Early then, on this most gloomy day, had Ellinor taken -all her measures. Her available funds were small, but -she had saved enough from those limited stores which -her father had handed over to her to provide for the -immediate future. She had, besides, the capital of splendid -health, of indomitable will and energy; so that, for her -modest material needs Ellinor Marvel, though now a poor -woman once more, had no anxiety. But, oh, for the needs -of her heart—that passionate awakened heart that had -learned to want so much! It was worse than death to -have to tear herself from Bindon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Nevertheless, unfalteringly, with the secrecy of one -who will not be prevented, she considered and carried -out her plans. A place was privately retained on the -Bath and Devizes coach which passed every morning -before the gates of Bindon. Her few garments were -gathered and packed. A letter to the rector was left to -be delivered after her departure. It briefly stated that -she felt it impossible to remain at Bindon, and promised -to communicate with him later on.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Unnoticed, she slipped away through the shadows of -the little church; and after consigning her small effects -to Barnaby (and picking up, on a sudden tender thought -of her father, the anxious Belphegor) she struck across -the wet grass towards the park entrance, followed by the -dismal tolling of the Bindon church bell.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The hood of her cloak pulled over her face, its folds -wrapped round her, she sped through the misting rain, -so plunged in thought as scarcely to notice, until within -a few paces, the knot of village folk advancing up the -avenue.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then she halted, unpleasantly struck by something -strange and threatening in their demeanour. They were -coming along at a great rate, like people belated, talking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>eagerly among themselves, and with fierce gesture. There -were some eight or ten of them: an elderly man with a -long draggled streamer of black crape tied to a bludgeon, -a couple of lanky lads fighting over the possession of a -pitchfork, and the rest women, one of whom dragged -a child by the hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Upon the instant that Ellinor and Barnaby halted they -were recognised, and a shout went up that made her -blood run cold. The next moment she was surrounded, -and the words of execration hurled at her fell with almost -as stunning effect as the blows they seemed to -presage.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Witch! Poisoner! Murderer of poor people! She’s -trying to run away! It was she planted the poison bush: -burn her with a faggot of it! She’s in league with the -Devil, and that’s the Devil’s imp. The witch and her -boy! Seize her, duck her!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Angry hands were outstretched, and Ellinor, with energies -suddenly restored by the realisation of danger, -stepped back against one of the mighty beeches, holding -out the wide cloak to shield Barnaby. A new howl broke -out at the sight of her burden.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The witch and her cat! Burn her! Burn them!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Give me back my wife!” cried the man with the -bludgeon.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And where’s good Mrs. Nutmeg?” shrieked an old -hag.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See, Jamesie,” exclaimed the woman with the child, -“spit upon her! It is she who bewitched your poor -daddy!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The child hurled a stone which fell short of its aim. -This was the signal for the passage from anger to frenzy; -and it would have fared ill with Master Simon’s three -innocent associates, had not it been for an unexpected aid. -Barnaby’s face was already streaming with blood, and -Ellinor had received on her arm a vicious blow—which -Jamesie’s mother, armed with a flint, had levelled at Belphegor—when -the sound of an authoritative shout produced -<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>a sudden halt. The sight of the keeper, advancing -at full run from his gate-lodge and significantly handling -his gun, immediately altered the complexion of affairs. -Yet he had not come a moment too soon, nor was there -one to be lost; for already a few stragglers, drunk with -the triumph of destruction, were running down the avenue -towards them from the Herb-Garden.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Stand back!” cried the keeper. “Stand back, John -Mossmason, or I’ll plug you! And you, Joe Barnwall, -if you don’t drop that pitchfork you’ll never dig a turnip -again, or my name is not keeper!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The broad cord-clad back was now between Ellinor -and her foes. Keeping his barrels levelled at the rioters, -he whispered to her over his shoulder:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Run, ma’am, run and get into the lodge!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>At that instant the note of the post-horn rang out -upon the air; the Bath and Devizes coach was passing -through the village.</p> - -<p class='c013'>The younger of the two discontented gentlemen who -occupied damp outside seats on the coach that day and -had been looking forth in dudgeon upon a world of -dudgeon, never ceased in after years to recall the tale -of that ride as one fit for walnuts and wine.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It was raining cats and dogs, and by ill-luck (as I -thought then), I and an elderly old buck had to put up -with outsides: it was packed inside. Well, sir, I was -cursing pretty freely by the time we were drawing Devizes. -And when the coachman said he had to pick up -a passenger at the gates of Bindon-Cheveral, I was getting -a curse out of that, for an irregularity—when, gad, -the words died on my tongue!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A woman, sir, the loveliest woman these eyes were -ever laid upon (my good lady is not here, I can say it in -your ear), running, running for her life, bare-headed in -the rain! By George, that was hair worth gazing at! She -held a cat in her arms, like a baby, her cloak, half-torn -<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>from her back, flying behind. She was making for our -coach. After her, an overgrown gawk of a lad, with a -bloody sconce, lugging her bundles anyhow, the most -frightened hare of a fellow it has ever been my lot to see—turned -out afterwards, to be a kind of natural, deaf -and dumb. But she, gad! she was brave for both! A -grand creature, ’pon my word! Inside the park there -was a prodigious deal of shouting and scuffling, and two -or three big devils with pitchforks yelling something about -a witch.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Pray, gentlemen,’ says she, looking up at us, her -eyes as blue as forget-me-nots, her face as white as this -napkin, but as calm as you or I, ‘help me up,’ says she, -‘or they will kill me.’ And would you believe, it, she -hands the cat up first before she’d let any one extend a -hand to her? And the boy, he must come too! ‘I can’t -leave him behind,’ says she, ‘they would tear him to -pieces.’ And, zounds, sir, if it had not been for a keeper -fellow with a gun who ran up and locked the wicket gate -in their very faces, some of those lads meant murder or -I never saw it written on a human face. Then it was: -‘On with you John!’ Off went the horn. Off went -we, the inside females screeching like mad, and the -devils at the gate bellowing like wild beasts after their -prey....</p> - -<p class='c012'>“‘Well, this is a rum go!’ says the coachman, as he -tucks the cat between his boots. ‘I always thought this -here place of the Cheverals was asleep; dang me if it -hasn’t wakened up with a vengeance!’</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A witch, sir, they’d called her. Not so far wrong -there! Between you and me and the bottle I’ve never -been able to forget her. A strange creature—all the -women I’ve known would have gone off in a screaming -fit or a swoon. Not she. The first thing she does is to -whip open one of her little bundles and out with her handkerchief, -and wipe and bind the boy’s broken head as -he squatted beside her; and then she turns to me on the -other side and hands me a scarf, and says she: ‘Would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>I be so kind as to tie it round her arm, as tight as might -be.’ And then I saw an ugly gash in the pretty white -flesh. ‘A hit with a stone,’ she says. And not another -word could I get, nor the other old boy (who was green -with jealousy at her speaking with me), nor John the -coachman, though he called her ‘my dear,’ and was as -round as round with her, a fatherly sort of man that any -young female might confide in.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“She just pulled her hood over her face and lay back -folding her arms, the sound one over the hurt one, and -sat staring at the gray wet walls of Cheveral park as -we skirted them. Her face looked like a white rose in -the black shadow, and by and by, I saw the great tears -begin to gather and roll down her cheeks one by one. I -tell you, sir, my heart’s not a particularly soft one, but -it made it ache.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, we set her down and her cat and her boy at -York House. She paid the boy’s fare and thanked us. -I thought she was going in at the York—but she went up -without another word by Bartlett street. And I never -saw her again, nor heard more of her story.—Pass the -bottle.”</p> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span></div> -<div class='chapter ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE STAR DREAMER</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div> - <h2 class='c005'>BOOK IV</h2> -</div> -<div class='lg-container-b c011'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in4'>Haunted by the starry head</div> - <div class='line'>Of her whose gentle will has changed my faith</div> - <div class='line'>And made my life a perfumed altar flame.</div> - <div class='line in30'><span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Maud</cite>)</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER I<br> <span class='large'>AH ME, THE MIGHT-HAVE-BEEN!</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>I cry to vacant chairs and widowed walls,</div> - <div class='line'>My house is left unto me desolate.</div> - <div class='line in18'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Aylmer’s Field</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Bindon woods were growing yellow. After an -early and glorious summer, rain had set in with -much wind and storm, and though it was but the -first of September, the country had already begun to don -its autumn livery.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David, returning from a devious pilgrimage, rode -slowly up the avenue. There was the scent of fallen -leaves in the air and the ground beneath the tread of his -horse’s feet was sodden and spongy. It was a sad and -cloudy afternoon, with just now a brief respite between -two gusts of wind and rain, a streak of blue in the watery -sky above the soaking land. He had come fast and far; -his horse was mud-bespattered, his riding-boots discoloured -to the knees. Both rider and steed seemed dejected: -so comes a man home from fruitless quest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At the bend of the way, where the rectory walls skirted -the avenue, Dr. Tutterville suddenly stood forth. From -afar, and with anxious eyes, the parson and the squire -scrutinised each other’s bearing, and it hardly needed the -melancholy greeting:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No news!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No news!” to confirm the impression of failure.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The reverend Horatio had, during the last four weeks -of anxiety and fruitless search, lost some of his comfortable -rotundity, some of his placid ease of manner. The -iron grey of his hair had lightened a little more towards -<span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>silver. He laid his hand upon the rider’s muddy knee -and paced beside him towards the house. After a little -silence a melancholy converse began.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Wherever the poor child may be,” said the parson, -“at any rate you are satisfied that she has not fallen into -the hands either of that evil-living man, Colonel Harcourt, -or of that light-spirited youth, Mr. Luke Herrick. -That at least should be a consolation.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Yet he sighed as he spoke and looked questioningly at -the other. But David’s face became still more darkened.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“As I wrote to you,” he replied, after a little pause -and with a sort of repugnance, “I had Colonel Harcourt’s -movements closely traced from the moment of his -leaving the ‘Cheveral Arms’ to the moment of our -meeting in Richmond Park, and afterwards. Ellinor -and he——” He broke off then, with a sudden irritation: -“Great God,” he cried, “it was infamous to suspect her -of favour to that man.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Dr. Tutterville shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The best and the purest,” said he, “are often and -naturally the most easily deluded, David. I suspect her -of nothing more than——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But seeing Sir David wince he did not conclude his -phrase. There fell another silence, emphasised by the -sucking sound of the horse’s hoofs on the moist pathway -and the dripping of the leaves over their heads. Then the -rector began again plaintively:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The fair creature had grown into my old heart! -Without her Bindon is desolate! At any rate you are -satisfied,” he repeated in a tone of the most uncomfortable -indecision, “and also as regards Mr. Herrick.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Anger began to creep to the rider’s brow once more. -But he mastered himself and answered calmly enough:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear doctor, I have written all this to you; do -not bring me over the weary ground again. Harcourt is -now in bed, being nursed for his second wound. I mentioned, -did I not, that he had scarce recovered from the -ball I left in his shoulder—ah, doctor, I used to have a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>steadier hand—before he had a second encounter, this -time with Mr. Herrick.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I confess,” said the parson, with a melancholy shake -of the head, “that it is precisely this second meeting -which reawakened all my doubts. You know I had never -been disposed to consider Colonel Harcourt seriously in -the matter, deeming it so much more probable that Ellinor -should have been attracted by the younger gentleman. -And I had most earnestly trusted that, the latter -being (or I am no judge of character) an honest-hearted -youth, affairs were by no means past remedy.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You are right,” answered David, “Mr. Herrick is an -honourable man. I saw him the day before his meeting -with Harcourt. What passed between us is sacred to -both. Suffice it: I am satisfied.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson sighed and again shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Satisfied!” he echoed. “Would I could feel satisfied -about the welfare of that poor child; nay, about any one -detail of the whole incredible business! At first I could -have sworn.... You see, since her flight all my -theories are upset. There is only one thing clear, and -that is the emptiness of our lives without her!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Thereupon the younger man’s passion burst forth. He -struck the saddle bow with his clenched hand:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In Heaven’s name, spare me any more of this! My -God, man, do you not think I feel it at least as much as -you? If she had grown into your heart, how had it been -with mine?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Forgive me,” interposed the other in alarm at his -companion’s vehemence. (Was this the old brain-sick -David back again, was the old story of Bindon House to -begin once more?) “Forgive me,” he repeated. “I had -no idea....”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No idea!” The rider looked down upon his companion -with a bitter smile. “And did I not hear you -boast, but a moment ago, that you could read the human -countenance? No idea that I loved Ellinor! Why, man, -have I not loved her since the first instant these eyes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>beheld her, ah, me, nearly a year ago! with the lamplight -shining on her golden head! And her blue eyes—her -blue eyes!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>With the inexplicable shyness of the man for his fellow-human, -the parson almost recoiled from the vision -of passion unexpectedly laid bare before him. But like -those mountain-chasms filled with mist to the wayfarer’s -eye, save when a rare and sudden gust of wind allows -their depth to be fathomed for a moment, the deeps of -Sir David’s heart were swiftly veiled again. He resumed -the thread of his thought, in a composed manner, -though somewhat dreamily, as if speaking to himself -rather than to a listener:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I came down that first night from my tower, I remember, -eyes and mind dazed by the glory of that new -star which I was so inordinately elated at having been -the first to see, and I thought,” with a little laugh at -once tender and exceedingly melancholy, “that another -miracle—I was in the mood for miracles—had been -wrought for me, and that the star in the firmament had -taken living shape on earth!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“In the name of goodness, what prevented you from -telling her so then!” exclaimed the parson with sudden -testiness. “Aye, David, and sparing us all this sorrow? -You could have won her easily enough.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Because I was mad, I suppose. Oh, my dear old -friend, never protest! I am sane again now, sane -enough at least to know how mad I have been—call it -by what euphemistic name you like. I might have won -her, but did not know myself, could not trust myself. -I believed I had done with human love, you know. I -had consecrated myself to worlds beyond this one. -She came to call me down from my unnatural life. -She spoke to me, with sweet human voice, of lovely -human things; she laid her tender hand on mine. -It was my madness that I dulled my ears, that I -made no answer to her touch. And yet there was happiness, -ah, God, what happiness, in it all! Then came -<span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>that last strange night! What happened to me I cannot -recall. But ever since then I have been so sane, that, -before God, I could almost wish the old folly back now -that I have lost all. The curse of common sense is on -me: I can no longer lose myself in visions on my tower. -There stands Bindon, my house, my desolate house, an -empty shell, full of echoes. Before me lies a desolate, -empty life, full of memories. Everything, everything -speaks of her, calls for her! Nothing can ever be sweet -to me for the want of her. Once she said to me: ‘David, -David, why is your heart empty, why are there no children -round your knee!’ And I made answer: ‘Never -can such things be for me.’ And then she wept over me.... -You are right, sir, I might have won her. Sometimes, -reason notwithstanding, under the pulse of vague, -elusive memories I cannot fix, I think that in spite of all -she loved me.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson started again and flung an apprehensive -glance at the speaker. The latter noted it; and the cold -desolation of his voice changed for a light tone of irony -that was somehow quite as melancholy:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But never fear, dear sir, this is no return of madness. -Who can fathom a woman’s heart? All lies -shrouded in mystery and, as you say, we know but one -thing:—that we have lost her!”</p> - -<p class='c013'>“Strange is it not?” began David once more, “that I -should remember so clearly every word she ever said to -me, though my poor brain was so sick at the time! But -indeed it seems to me as if, until the moment when first -a mantle of gorgeous dream enwrapt me round and then -a blank, a blessed blank fell on me and in it I lost as in -a great sea all the miserable wreckage of my wasted life—it -seems to me, I say, as if my illness was that I remembered -too much, too constantly, too vividly, for mental -health. And now I remember still, yet not as of old with -torture of shame and fury, but as if memories of her were -all that life has left of sweetness.” He reined in his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>horse, and, gazing straight before him as at the rift of -blue between the heavy clouds, went on still dreamily: -“Strange, does it not seem to you? Strange even to -myself! And I who could not trust her, when her every -look and smile was for me, now I trust her, although, -standing before us all, she would not defend her -woman’s fame by one word.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>They had reached the bridge that led across the moat -to the yards. Here David, having hailed a stableman -from a distance, dismounted and delivered over his horse.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Give me your arm, doctor,” said he, “I am stiff from -the saddle and cold from my thoughts. I dread the going -in; let us prolong our way sufficiently to put my dull -blood in movement again. Yes, my kind old friend,” he -went on, in answer to a shrewd look, “it is even so; I -dread the moment of crossing my threshold where there -is nought to greet us but whispers of the might-have-been.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Man was never meant to live alone,” said Tutterville -sententiously. “How often have I not told you -so?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Leaning on the parson’s arm, David impelled him -towards the narrow path that led to the fateful Herb-Garden. -The wind had risen again; a rainstorm was -impending. Overhead the branches were shaken as by -an angry capricious hand; shreds of green foliage, and -now and then an isolated prematurely yellow leaf, fluttered -athwart them as they went.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Sir David halted with a start as they came into the open -space under the yew-tree. Where the ancient gateway -had, with delicate curvet and strength of iron, guarded -the forbidden close, was now a gap, ugly as a wound, -beyond which the stretch of devastated garden lay raw -to the gaze. Against the broken-down wall the useless -unhinged doors lay propped.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I have had nothing done to this place since you left,” -said the rector, breaking the heavy pause. “I thought -that perhaps your wish would coincide with mine; that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>you would give orders to have these precincts cleared and -levelled, and thrown in with the rest of the grounds, so -that even its unhappy memory might die out among us. -Over those new graves in the churchyard the sod is -growing green again; and in the hearts of our poor ignorant -village folk, resignation to the will of Providence, -and repentance and shame for their cowardly turbulence, -has taken the place of all angry feelings. I may -tell you now, David, how grateful they all are for your -not pursuing them with punishment.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pah!” interrupted Sir David with impatient contempt. -“What were the wretches to me—since I had heard -she had escaped! What care I but to find her again!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson halted disconcerted. Sir David had abruptly -left his side to walk rapidly up to the gates and -examine them. Then he turned. His look and demeanour -had something of the singularity of former days. -And from his distance:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Rase these walls!” he cried. “Sweep these memories!... -Have I not just said to you that memory -is all that I have left! This wall shall be built up, these -gates hung again; and no hand but mine shall touch what -remains of those beds that she tended and planted. No -feet but mine shall tread the paths her feet have pressed. -Here shall all lie as secret and desolate as my life without -her.—Let us go!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Worthy Dr. Tutterville walked on in silence. His -warm heart was too sincerely grieved for his eccentric -companion to resent his present attitude; at the same -time he was conscious of a humanly-irritated regret that -the present form of eccentricity should not have manifested -itself a little earlier. Presently Sir David took -up the thread of the conversation where the rector had -left it.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“So your good parishioners are grateful for my indulgence,” -he said, with something approaching a sneer. -“Let them thank the Providence to whom, as you tell -me, they are beginning to be resigned, that He protected -<span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span>the object of their hatred from them! Had I not received -the keeper’s word that she was safe and sound, I would -have left no stone unturned to make every scoundrel of -them know the full penalties of the law touching assault -and housebreaking. They complained of poison ... -they would have learned something of gallows! But their -offence to me was not worth the trouble their punishment -would entail. She escaped—let them be!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“These are hard words,” said the parson disturbed, -and he was about to add all the excuses he had already -found for his flock in the trouble they had themselves -endured and in the evil influence of Margery among -them, when David interrupted again:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am a hard man, it seems! Well, I need be, to endure -life.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And Dr. Tutterville wisely held his peace.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The two friends proceeded towards Bindon House in -silence. The reverend Horatio was now pondering over -certain phrases of David’s which seemed ever and again, -like the lightning that on a dark night flashes out upon -the bewildered wayfarer, one instant to show him the -road, only to leave him the next hopelessly groping in -the mire.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“If she had grown into your heart, how had it been -with mine!... Why, man, I have loved her since -the first instant! First I was wrapt in gorgeous dreams, -and then there came the blank. Then came the blank—then -came the <em>blank</em>.” The phrase recurred, with meaning -insistence like the burden of a catch. Presently he -gave a kind of start. If he dared but connect these -flashes! If he but dared hazard his unsteady steps upon -the astonishing road they seemed to reveal! But he kept -his peace.</p> - -<p class='c012'>In spirit David was back in the Herb-Garden, not the -poor, dishonoured, bruised place upon which he had just -turned his back, but the garden of that wondrous dawn -where he and Ellinor had wandered into such a lovely -land. He yearned for the moment when the guardian -<span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>gates should be erect once more and the key of them -within his hand.—Therein, as a man locks up the casket -that holds the faded flowers, the crushed letters, all that -fate has left him of his love, would he hold close for -evermore the tenderest memory of his life.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER II<br> <span class='large'>A MESSENGER OF GLAD TIDINGS</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Oh, my love, my breath of life, where art thou!</div> - <div class='line in32'>—<span class='sc'>Keats</span> (<cite>Endymion</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Sir David turned into the library and flung himself -into a chair with a sigh that was almost a -groan. And Dr. Tutterville could have echoed it -as he looked round:—the ghosts that Ellinor had chased -had all returned with the dust on the window-pane, with -the dead flowers in the bowl, with the stagnant atmosphere -of a fireless unaired room. The very books seemed -to have lost their souls, to have become but matter, telling -of nought but the futility of all things. Dimness and -desolation brooded again over the house.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson tried to pump up some consoling phrase, -stopped midway, coughed, went to the window and began -to tap aimlessly on the pane. A selfish, elderly longing -seemed to draw him back towards his own cosy fireside, -where no haunting regret had ever quite extinguished -the light of sunny Greek or philosophic Latin; -where melancholy assumed no sterner guise than the -placid analytic countenance of old Burton. He glanced -again at the long figure in the chair, now bent in utter -weariness, and the inner voice asked anxiously in a whisper: -“How long will the new-found sanity last in such -conditions as these?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Into this brooding came a sudden clamour from without. -It was the voice of Madam Tutterville calling upon -her spouse with every note of impatience and exultation; -and a moment later the lady herself appeared in the doorway, -panting but radiant.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Horatio, my dear doctor! Good gracious, man, what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>are you doing here? I have sought you everywhere as -the spouse of the canticle sought the goat. Oh, my goodness, -let me sit down and find breath! I have news!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>News! On her entrance, David had drawn himself -slowly together with lustreless eye and turned vaguely -to greet the new-comer, but her last words brought him -to her side with a spring that overtook even his exclamation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“News!” he echoed. And the two men looked at each -other. What could news mean to them but one thing?</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville tottered to a chair, untied her hat-strings, let her hands drop upon her comfortable knees, -and turned her eyes from one eager face to the other. -Her own full-moon countenance was irradiated with a -harvest-like glow. The infantile smile of her best moods -was upon her lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>But woman will remain woman no matter how clothed -with superfluous flesh. Sophia positively coquetted with -the moment, dallied with her own consciousness of power -as complacently as any slim chit of eighteen. She vowed -she was tired to death; pettishly requested Horatio not to -hang over her: she was hot, she was stifling. She then, -in a tone of promising importance, announced that she -was back from Bath (for her autumn shopping), and -then broke off to stare at David as if she had but just -become aware of his presence, and to comment upon his -unexpected return with exasperating interest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And what news have you brought?” quoth she, with -emphasis.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Bitter disappointment set its mark on David’s face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Have you found traces of Ellinor?” pursued the -lady.</p> - -<p class='c012'>David drew back, shaking his head; but the parson -found a different meaning in his wife’s bantering tone. -He caught her plump hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, excellent Sophia!” said he. “I might have -known you would come to the rescue, as ever! You have -heard of the child!”</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>Madam Tutterville was no longer able to control the -tide of her triumph:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Heard of her? Traced—found her—seen her! But -this hour come from her! Have held her in these arms!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her voice rose with ever increasing flourish till it -broke upon the over-high note.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The next instant she was clasped in her lord’s embrace; -and, as she sobbed with joy upon his shoulder, it may be -that even the worthy gentleman’s own eyes grew wet. -David stood quite still, in that intensity of stillness which -cloaks an intensity of emotion. When the worthy couple -had recovered from their effusiveness, Madam Tutterville, -now with full gusto, began to narrate her story:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You see, dear Horatio, I could not but feel that you -regarded me to blame for poor Ellinor’s flight. And perhaps -you are right, doctor, for I fear, in my anxiety, I did -indeed fail to observe the scriptural rule that silence is a -most excellent thing in woman: A melancholy breach of -my usual rule of life——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, dear,” said the parson blandly, “and so it was -in Bath, Sophia——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Pray, my dear doctor, allow me time to speak. I -do not mind admitting to you that the expedition to Bath -was undertaken less with a view to the store-room -(though you did require the Spanish olives), than——” -she paused. “There has been a coldness in your eye this -past month, Horatio. Oh, yes, my dear doctor, there -is no use in denying! And, well, well, I grant you, it -was a very sad thing, whatever we might have to reproach -her with, to think of that poor young thing cast upon -the world. You have always laughed at my presentiments; -but, as the prophet says, there are more things -in Heaven and earth, Horatio——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“For God’s sake,” interrupted David suddenly, “this -is torture! Where did you see Ellinor? How is she?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville started, less at the words than at -the tone. She stared a second blankly at the speaker, -then meekly replied:</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>“I found her at Bath. She actually was no further -than Bath! In a little lodging. She has been ill, poor -dear, but now is strong again. Oh, poor child, she has -suffered!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David turned away. But the parson interposed -eagerly:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And was she alone? Has she told you all?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Whereat Madam Tutterville was not a little irate.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Alone, sir—what are you thinking of! I pray you -remember, she is my own niece.” She checked herself. -“Alone, yes, indeed save for the two dumb things, -Belphegor and Barnaby. And as for telling me.... -What do you take me for? Do you suppose I should be -plaguing her with questions at such a moment? And -it’s my belief,” asserted Aunt Sophia energetically, “that -she’ll never tell anyone anything. When I as much as -hinted again that she might confide in my bosom, she -closed her lips and neither man nor mortal could have -drawn a word from her; no, not if they had put her on -the rack!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Singular,” mused the parson. But there was a latent -illumination in his eye.</p> - -<p class='c012'>After a while, which was a long while to the impatience -of her two hearers, Madam Tutterville had told all -she had to tell:</p> - -<p class='c012'>She had traced Ellinor, “in a luminous fashion,” she -averred; first by the sight of the unmistakable Belphegor -washing his face on the window ledge of a quiet little -grey house in a quiet little back street up which Providence -(as she piously expressed it), in the shape of a -stupid chairman, had inadvertently led her. So struck -was she at the remarkable resemblance to her old cat-acquaintance, -she noted in the four-legged philosopher -seated among certain dead geraniums, that she had, upon -an impulse, arrested her progress. And here (as she took -some trouble to point to her spouse) her intelligence had -given that effective aid to the designs of Providence, -without which the Heavenly Hints would have been -<span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>thrown away. No sooner had she called a halt than -Barnaby himself appeared on the doorstep with a basket -on his arm. And after that it was but a short way from -the chair to the poor room: and Ellinor was gathered to -her arms!</p> - -<p class='c012'>But, to all their questioning, in which indeed it seemed -the rector for the most part voiced Sir David’s eagerness, -beyond the capital fact of the discovery of the truant, -Madam Tutterville could give them but little information -concerning Ellinor herself; none as to her plans. She had -been ill. She was well again. She looked pale, but not -sickly; was very silent; refused to come back to the rectory; -was in no want, and had prospect of employment. -What work and where, she avoided telling. The utmost -Madam Tutterville had been able to extract from her -was the solemn promise not to leave Bath without further -communicating with her; and this was on the understanding -that Madam Tutterville would then take Barnaby -into the rectory—since it was now safe to do so.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And did she ever speak of David?” asked the reverend -Horatio, his eye just blinking across to the latter’s -white face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, she asked me how he was ... just at the -end. I was actually on the doorstep when she caught me -by the arm: ‘How is David, aunt?’” quoth she.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tuttervile’s tone expressed the mystification -which something singular in her niece’s manner seemed -to have evoked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I told her he was away in London. Believing, of -course, that you were still there, David. And I told her -how well you are. What wonderful accounts we had to -give of you. Quite, quite your old self, before—Ah!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She broke off a little disconcerted at the allusions to -which her tongue was drifting.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And Ellinor said?” inquired the parson gently, this -time keeping his gaze away from his friend’s face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor!” The lady’s visage became wrinkled into -fresh lines of perplexity. “Poor dear child! I fear she -<span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span>is very weak and nervous still. ‘I am so glad, so glad!’ -she said, that was all.... But, do you know, I -verily believe that, as she closed the door on me, I heard -her sob. I had it in my heart to go back but, dear Horatio, -she had pushed the bolt!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville turned from her contemplation of -the doctor’s determinedly impassive features to stare at -David. And whatever she then saw, it seemed all at once -to procure her the liveliest, yet the most agreeable, surprise. -On the verge of an outcry, she checked herself, -nodded, pursed her lips, rolled an eye of weighty meaning -at her lord, and rising, remarked with an air of -abnormal detachment, that it was getting late and she -had had a vast of fatigue.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson, with a gesture of acquiescence, turned to -David.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Good evening, then,” said he.</p> - -<p class='c012'>And with a little burst of feeling which sat very well -on his dignity, he turned back to look admiringly at his -wife.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“How beautiful over the hills,” he exclaimed, “are -the feet of the messenger of glad tidings!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville glanced down at her sandals and -smiled with whole-hearted delight and pride. But the -rector, instead of following up his leave-taking, halted -on his way to the door, lost in profound reflection. She -respected the mood for an appreciable moment, then -called on him, first tenderly, then with a shade of impatience.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear love,” said he, when roused at last, “I pray -you, wait for me in the parlour. There are now, I remember, -a few words I must say to David. I will not -keep you above a minute, my beloved Sophia.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>As the door closed the parson stood a little while in -silence beside David’s motionless figure, regarding him -gravely. Then said he:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David! What is Bindon without Ellinor?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>David slowly turned his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>“Why do you say that to me? Do I not know? Have -I not felt it? Did you not yourself see what the moment -of crossing my desolate threshold was to me! Did you -not come with me into this empty room and hear its emptiness -howl for her like the emptiness of my heart? Oh, -for the sound of the rustle of her dress—of the least of -her footfalls on the stairs!” He broke off, and suddenly -lost his concentrated composure in a cry: “I’d give my -soul to have her back!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>At this the parson was not shocked. Indeed he smiled -more genially than if his companion had expressed the -most pious resignation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Fortunately,” said he, “the price need not be so -great!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>For a moment, in the glimmering dusk, David stared. -Then catching his meaning, gave an inarticulate exclamation -and sprang towards the door, where laughing now, -the elder man laid hands on him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What! Is it boot and saddle, and spur and away? A -Lochinvar! A very Lochinvar! Nay, nay, we are boys -no longer, David. That is the right spirit, man, but we -must act more circumspectly. Remember, it is a -wounded bird, mysteriously wounded, and must be approached -gently and touched tenderly. Nay, never look -like that! Lord, what weak children this love doth make -of men! See, David, leave me but one day to work for -you. Trust the older head. Age has its privileges: the -old man can step in where the lover must stand aloof. -As for you, get you to your stars: the clouds are driving -off, ’tis like to be a clear night. Get you to your stars -and dream!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And as the Star-Dreamer made a gesture of indignant -denegation the other broke again into a chuckling -laugh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To your tower!” he insisted. “I never bade you -dream only of heavenly things—go dream, in your endless -spaces, of the sweetest thing on earth!”</p> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>“Horatio,” began Madam Tutterville with great solemnity. -They had reached the shade of the avenue and -the lady, while leaning affectionately on the rector’s arm, -had maintained up to this an unwonted silence—“Horatio,” -said she, “you will no doubt scarcely credit it, but, -without vanity, I may say that this has been a day of -special revelation between myself and the Lord. I have -observed. I have noted. There are certain signs. A -woman’s eye, my dear sir, is quick in these matters. In -fact, Horatio, I really believe David is in love with -Ellinor.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear Sophia, you do not say so!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Indeed, doctor, but I do. Ah, you smile, you shake -your head! Well, well, it would be strange, I grant, and -something contradictious of fate that this should come -to pass at last, which we have both so much desired, -when one may say it would only seem now but an added -complication. But (pray let me finish, Horatio), who -are we that we should doubt the power of Providence? -‘He can make the wilderness blossom like the rose.’”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A beautiful text, Sophia, and quoted with commendable -accuracy! Nevertheless,” returned the parson, “I -would most earnestly advise you not to confide these very -extraordinary suppositions of yours to any other human -being. I have so high an opinion of your acumen, Madam -Tutterville, and you have so brilliantly acquitted yourself -to-day, that it would be a thousand pities to spoil so -bright a record by these wild—these altogether feminine -imaginings.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The poor lady acquiesced with a chastened air. When -her Horatio adopted this decisive tone her submission was -unqualified.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She did not speak again till they had reached the -mellow mossy wall of the rectory orchard. Then she -hazarded, in a small voice, that she dared say Dr. Tutterville -would only laugh at her again, but she could not rest -easy in her conscience without telling him that the more -she had thought of the matter lately, and especially since -<span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>her recent interview with Ellinor, the more the conviction -had grown in her mind that the poor, pretty dear -had been the victim of some base conspiracy. “That -Margery!... not to speak of Lady Lochore——”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The rector halted, seized his wife by both hands, and -exclaimed in a tone of genial admiration that brought -back with a leap all her self-esteem:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sophia, there speaks your wise head! And,” he -added, pressing the hands he held: “there speaks my -Sophia’s kind heart.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And arm-in-arm once more, and both smiling, they -crossed the peaceful threshold of their home.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER III<br> <span class='large'>NOT WORDS, BUT HANDS MEETING</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>... Indeed I love thee: come</div> - <div class='line'>Yield thyself up: my hopes and thine are one:</div> - <div class='line'>Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself;</div> - <div class='line'>Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.</div> - <div class='line in22'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>The Princess</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>The rector passed half the night in that solitude -which was ever respected by his wife as devoted -to elegant study. But his energies were occupied -by subjects neither classic nor biblic, nor yet philosophic. -It was the diplomatic composition of one short -letter that kept him employed into the deep hours.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The purpose of this missive was so close to his heart, -the matter was so delicate; so necessary was it to display -some guile, that the erudite gentleman had seldom set -his wits a more difficult task.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The finished draft was of a masterpiece of its kind, -though one could hardly say that the impression it conveyed -to the reader adhered closely to actual fact. But, as -it certainly conveyed the impression desired by the reverend -Horatio, he read it over with great complacency -before folding and sealing it. And when he retired at -last to his couch, his conscience was more placid than altogether -became a divine of the Anglican church, who -had just been guilty of dealing in Jesuitical casuistry.</p> - -<p class='c012'>About six o’clock the next evening, as the rector sipped -his after-dinner cup of bohea, he made casually the following -announcement to his spouse:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My love, I despatched a messenger to Bath by the -coach this morning.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Madam Tutterville put down her spoon and looked up -eagerly.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>“Indeed, doctor?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Yes, Sophia. I discovered that there was positively -not another pinch of macabaw in my <i><span lang="fr">tabatière</span></i>.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The lady examined him sharply. Then before his impassive -countenance her own fell considerably.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is a pity,” she remarked with some dryness, “that -you did not make that discovery before I started yesterday.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is, perhaps,” said the rector.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There was a slight pause; then the gentleman rose. -“A lovely evening,” said he. “I think, Sophia, I will -stroll down the park and meet the coach on its return.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear doctor, after dinner rest awhile.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am pining, Sophia, for that <i><span lang="es">rapee</span></i>—or did I say -macabaw? There’s not a pinch, not a pinch.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>As he passed out into the little garden, he said to himself:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I am growing positively Machiavelian!” And -thereat the abandoned rector breathed in the soft air, -luxuriously.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was a lovely evening, as he had said. September -had been drifting on, in peace and suavity; and, this day, -summer seemed to pause and watch the coming of -inevitable autumn as a beautiful woman pauses and looks -down the hill of life with a sweet resignation that lends -her a new pathetic charm, unknown to the pride of her -June or even to the exquisite promise of her April. The -light was golden-yellow over the grass, where the shadows -of the elms lay long. Now and then an early-withered -leaf crackled under the parson’s foot. The -rooks were cawing for their last muster of the day; the -kine were lowing towards far-off byres. There was a -tramp of feet along the road without the walls and the -distant sound of voices. The whole air was full of the -music of evening home-comings. A sense of peace descended -on the good man’s soul, he bared his grey-crowned -head and looked up at the placid sky, and felt a -kind of faith in happiness.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span>It was to him as if the striving, the heat and the burden -of the day had passed from their lives, and God’s best -gift, rest, was about to be bestowed at last.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Even as he was drawing near the gates, Ellinor was -alighting from the coach, pale, tired, anxious-eyed, followed -by a dusty Barnaby, who carried under his arm a -cross Belphegor. They hurried through the wicket into -the green arms of the park. Obedient to his mistress’s -gesture, the dumb boy with his burden struck immediately -across the grass towards the rectory, while she -paused to draw a deep breath and taste for a spell the -sad delight of being once more in that beloved enclosure, -which had been, and was still, all the world to her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Presently she was startled to find the reverend Horatio -at her side.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Thrice welcome!” cried he, and there was unwonted -emotion in his rich kind voice. She was folded in a -paternal embrace. But, with both hands upon his shoulders, -she drew back, to scan his countenance; and her -eyes shot mingled joy and reproach upon him for that -he looked so hale and placid. The while his gaze pitied -the narrower oval of her flower face, the paled cheek -that had been so warm-tinted, the shadowed eyes that -had been so bright.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear, my dear,” he said, “you look very ill!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And you, Uncle Horatio, singularly well!” She -drew still further from him as she spoke. And suddenly -a rush of indignant blood dyed her pallor. “Why -have you brought me here?” she cried. “If—oh, sir, this -is not right or kind!” With agitated gesture she sought -a letter in her reticule. “Indeed, sir, you must have deceived -me!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But the rector smiled on unperturbed. There was no -guilt, but rather an expression of self-approval, writ upon -his every line. Ellinor unfolded a letter:</p> - -<p class='c017'>“My child, will you come and help nurse back to health a sick -and weary man? I would not summon you, but that I know your -<span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>kind heart, and that you give us love for love. I think the sight -of you will go far towards making a cure. I shall expect you to-morrow.—Your -old <span class='sc'>Uncle Horatio</span>.”</p> - -<p class='c017'>“P. S.—You will think that the sickness is sudden—not so -sudden, perhaps! I will not say that it may not be dangerous, if -your help is withheld.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>In resentful tones Mrs. Marvel read out this artful -billet. The rector showed no sign of confusion.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, uncle!” said she, when she had finished.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Well, child,” he returned, and tucked her rebellious -arm under his own, “well, here has Bindon got you -again, and here shall Bindon hold you!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She went a little way by his side in silence. Bindon -grass was tender to her feet and Bindon airs balmy to -her face. Bindon woods, gathering close about her, -seemed to fold her round with a sense of security and -faithful guardianship—David’s Bindon, full of him, -though empty just now, as she thought, of his dear presence. -God, was it not all too sweet? Was not her mad -heart too insensately throbbing with that poisoned sweetness -of it—and to what end? She wrenched her hand -from the close pressure of his elbow:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Why have you played me this cruel trick? Why -have you lured me here on a pretence?” she asked -again, resentfully.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Before the passion of her distress, parson Tutterville -dropped the amiable banter of speech and manner and -became grave.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My dear child,” he answered, taking both her hands -in his— “there was no pretence. There is a sick man -here who needs you very much, sorely indeed!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>His meaning flashed into her soul almost before the -words had left his lips. She formed the word: “David!” -And he felt her tremble violently.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I understood David was away,” she said. “He is -ill?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He was shocked at himself for the anxiety he had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>unwittingly caused; and, moved to the very core by -this depth of feeling he had hitherto barely guessed -at:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Forgive me, child,” he said gently. “David returned -yesterday. He is not sick in body—no,” hastily reading -yet whiter terror on her face, “nor yet in mind, thank -God! But he is sick at heart.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sick at heart!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Aye, for want of you!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Once more Ellinor crimsoned, but this time it was the -“lovely banner of love” that flaunted on her poor white -face.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Did David send for me?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The cry smote the good man now with its sound of -irrepressible joy. Short as their interview had been, he -felt ever more strongly how clumsy were even his well-meaning -fingers upon this delicate thing—a woman’s -heart. “One man only,” he said to himself, “has the -right to play on that lute—that is the man she loves.” -And aloud:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“No, David does not know,” he replied.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then why am I here-what will he think?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She looked wildly round, almost as if she would have -started running back all those miles to her hiding-place. -The rector laid a restraining hand upon her shoulder. -She turned on him fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You should not have brought me here!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“My child, you should never have left us!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>When there was that tone in Horatio Tutterville’s voice -and that look in his kind eye, his rarely exercised authority -made itself irresistibly felt. Ellinor’s reproachful -anger was turned to a filial pleading:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Dear uncle, how could I remain, how can I remain?... -after ... after——” Her lips trembled: -they could not frame the words of the odious charge -which still lay against her fair fame.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“And have we been so wanting towards you, Ellinor, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>all this time, that you feel there is not one of us to whom -you could give your confidence?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She gave a little cry as if the reproach had stabbed -her.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, no! Tis not like that! Oh, Uncle Horatio, it -is because I cannot speak. If you knew, you would be -the first to see that I cannot speak.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then all the shrewd surmises that had been floating in -Dr. Tutterville’s brains ever since David’s own confession -assumed the complexion of certainty. No need for him -to pry further. He knew. At least he knew quite -enough. His first triumph at his own sagacity was succeeded -by a gush of admiration for the steadfast self-abnegation -of the woman.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Keep your secret, child,” he said tenderly. “We are -all, mark me, all, quite ready to trust you.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>But Ellinor no longer heard him. She was looking -past him, towards the house. Her eyes had become fixed—then -dilated. She shivered again slightly, and then -she stood quite still. David, with long, quick strides, -was coming across the chequered shade and light of the -avenue.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Horatio Tutterville caught his breath slightly and -stepped back against the bole of a vast-girthed elm so -as to sink his noticeable personality almost out of sight. -The crisis had come sooner than he expected. He had -planned it to be under Bindon’s roof—well, it was fated -to be under the arches of Bindon’s trees! Now were the -matters passing out of his muddling hands. Now was -the crucial moment of the two lives on which he hung -all his own hopes, the lives of those who were to him -son and daughter, to whom he looked to be the crown -of his old age. Good man, his ambition was selfless -enough: all he asked of these two was to be happy! -From behind the springing twigs he watched, with a -beating heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>When her lover was within a few paces of her, Ellinor, -moved by some uncontrollable impulse, went forward to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span>meet him. She took a hasty step or two and then stood, -hands outstretched. And David saw her, with a shaft -of yellow light striking her white forehead and flaming -in her enaureoled hair, poised in lovely waiting for his -welcome—even as, now nearly a year ago, he had first -seen her and deemed that his beauteous star-vision had -taken human shape.</p> - -<p class='c012'>There were no words—their hands met. There was no -surprise in his eyes: only a great joy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Something drove me hither,” he said presently, “and -it was you! The whole day I could not rest, and you -were coming home, coming back to me! Oh, Ellinor, -never leave us again! We are dead without you, Bindon -and I!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She looked up at him with brimming eyes, eyes as -blue as his star.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Never again,” she returned, “if you and Bindon -want me!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then David bent and laid his lips upon hers. And -hand-in-hand, gravely they walked together through the -trees.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The parson looked after them, a broad smile upon his -lips. Then he wiped his forehead and then he wiped his -eyes. Then he came out from his discreet place and -blew deep a puffing breath of relief. How he had plotted -and planned; how cautiously and tortuously he had -worked for this; how many convincing speeches he had -rehearsed; how many intricate scenes, tearful or passionate, -through which his tact alone was to pilot the sensitive -lovers.... And behold! It was so simple! Oh, -simple. Not a word of explanation, no start, no cry, no -inquiry, no tears!—They met and clasped hands and -kissed. And yet how natural it all was! The inevitable -coming together of two who could not live without each -other.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“I will allow them a couple of hours of paradise,” said -the rector importantly to himself, as, quite forgotten, he -turned in the opposite direction, “before calling them to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span>earth again. I will even bring the news to Sophia and -bid her prepare the guest-chamber.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“A special licence,” thought the reverend gentleman, -professionally, as he reached his garden gate. “Only a -special licence, I believe, will meet the requirements of -the case.” His hand on the latch he began to laugh -softly: “I have certainly been on the verge of wiliness. -It is fortunate that Sophia will have a vast deal to occupy -her mind before the nuptials, for I am not going to -spoil these wondrous results by one word. Poor Sophia, -I fear there are certain explanations which are destined -to be for ever withheld from thee!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He could afford to feel superior over the thought of -her unsatisfied curiosity, his superior acumen having -put him out of reach of any such mortifying situation. -The reverend Horatio knew Ellinor’s secret, and was content -that she should keep it. He would not even allow -himself to speculate upon whether she would reveal it to -David; and if so, in what manner. That was part of -the sacredness of their future life. It belonged to the -sanctuary which every lover keeps for the beloved, and -into which, not even with uncovered feet or bowed head, -might the most reverent stranger dare to enter.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHAPTER IV<br> <span class='large'>A DREAM OF WOODS AND OF LOVE</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c014'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Has our whole earth gone nearer to the glow</div> - <div class='line'>Of your soft splendours, that you look so bright?</div> - <div class='line'><em>I</em> have climbed nearer out of lonely Hell.</div> - <div class='line'>Beat, happy stars, timing with things below,</div> - <div class='line'>Beat with my heart more blest than heart can tell.</div> - <div class='line in32'>—<span class='sc'>Tennyson</span> (<cite>Maud</cite>).</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c016'>Five days went like a dream over Ellinor’s head. -And when she woke up upon the sixth and saw -the daylight grow upon the panelled wall of her -room at the rectory, and knew it was the day that would -see her David’s wife, she still felt as if she were in a -dream. But it was a dream of great peace. All conflict, -all violent emotion, all sense even of having to -decide for herself, had gone from her. She was being -guided and willingly went, without a single anxious -thought for the future.</p> - -<p class='c012'>As in a dream she allowed Madam Tutterville, who -fluttered between smiles and tears, to robe her in her -wedding garment. “Wear your grey gown,” David had -once said to her. And so she was clothed this day in the -colour he had liked.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Dream-like still was the simple ceremony in Bindon’s -mossy little church, where a very solemn and reverent -rector gave their union the blessing of God from the -depth of his fatherly heart.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Coming down the aisle she noted with a vague smile -what a monstrous white tie, what a cauliflower of a -button-hole, adorned the figure of old Giles; how sheepishly -some village notabilities were peeping at the new -lady of Bindon as she paused to lay her wedding flowers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>on the stone that had but so lately been shifted for the -laying to rest of Bindon’s sorcerer; how deeply these -same good people curtsied—deepest those who had been -most anxious to bring faggots for a witch’s pyre; how -loud a cheer gave Joe Barnwall, whose pitchfork thrust -had nearly ended all weal and woe for her but a month -ago; with what strenuous childish importance the chubby -hand that had flung stones at her, now helped to strew -flowers before her bridal foot!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Then a golden day at the rectory—long and yet -strangely short. There was a wonderful wedding feast -of four—which the rector vastly commended. They had -the first pears from the rector’s pear-tree. And the -rector and his lady quoted, after their special fashion, to -their heart’s content. The rector gave a toast and made -a little speech, with as much gusto, as felicitous a turn -of phrase and as elegant a delivery as if he had been -presiding at the most select gathering Oxford dignity -could produce.</p> - -<p class='c012'>At sunset, however, the moment fixed by herself for -walking forth with her husband to her home, Ellinor suddenly -awoke—awoke to the fact that she was married to -her beloved, that she was his and he was hers, for ever; -that they were starting on their new life together—and -yet that there still was something between them!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Her secret was still untold; that secret once so heavy, -now so glad; that secret which once she had guarded with -so anxious watch upon herself, which now the minutes -were all too slow till she could set it free!</p> - -<p class='c012'>He had not asked for it: he never would. Better than -all, he was content to believe in her. He, whom a diseased -mistrust of his fellow-creatures had driven from the -world for the best part of his life, could show to her, -now in circumstances so extraordinary, this beautiful -blind confidence. Oh, how she loved him for it! How -rich, since he loved her thus, should be his reward! How -happy was she in this planning of the supreme moment -of his joy! So, with the touch of the rector’s fatherly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>hand upon her brow, and aunt Sophia’s last tear-bedewed -kiss upon her cheek; with her familiar old grey cloak -wrapped round her wedding finery, and the little bunch -from the Herb-Garden (Barnaby’s quaint offering) -sweet upon her breast, she passed forth from the little -autumnal orchard into the vast green spaces of the park. -Close against David she pressed, leaning upon him, walking -in thought-laden silence. In silence too he went, respecting -her mood; but each time he turned his face -upon her under the yellow light, she marked its radiance; -and in the quivering trouble of her joy all the web of -her pretty schemes seemed shaken apart, so that she -was fain to begin to weave afresh.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was a lemon and orange sunset reflected round the -sky—the sunset that presages storm—and the wind was -already high and tore with swelling organ-chant through -the trees of the avenue; a great mild west wind, booming -up from the woods, hurling past them with a beat as of -wide soft wings and rushing on with its song of triumph.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Let us go by the wood,” said Ellinor. He turned to -her quickly, the glory of the sinking day in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“To you too, then,” he said, “this is a good hour! -Listen to our wedding choral that the wind now sings in -the arches of these trees.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>They turned across the turf towards where elm and -ash, oak and scented pine made a night of their own already, -though at the top of many a swaying bough the -thrush and the blackbird still piped to the gleaming west; -though the rooks were still circling and the first star -shone no brighter than a small white daisy in a strip of -eastward sky, faintly green like a fairy field. In the -woody depths they drew yet closer together. Here, -though the wind-voices were never hushed at all, but kept -up their chant continuously overhead, the lower spaces -seemed so still, that the lovers almost thought to go in -silence beneath a canopy of sound. They heard the -faintest leaf whisper as they passed it, and the tiniest -twig snap beneath their tread. Suddenly David halted.</p> - -<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>“Strange,” said he, passing his hand across his brow. -“How often there has come upon me of late a memory -as of a dream—a dream of woods and of you. A dream -of woods and of love! And yet you were not with me. -Nay, now it comes back; you were not with me, but I -was going to you; and the trees were all speaking of -you and bidding me haste to you. A mad dream, but -sweet!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He would have clasped her to him but she, who had -listened with her heart beating so happy-fast that it would -scarce let her draw breath, held him away with soft hands:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Oh, David,” she panted, “think back on that dream -again!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It is gone,” he answered, smiling, “the reality is so -much sweeter!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She stood still holding him from her and yet to her, -with a delicate touch. His words had suddenly cleared -before her a golden path: the heart that loves has its -own flashes of genius.—Yes, it should be so, she resolved.</p> - -<p class='c012'>She drew a long breath. Without another word she -passed her arm within his again and led him on. He -allowed himself to be guided whither she would in glad -obedience; all she did this hour was well done for him.</p> - -<p class='c012'>It was full night when they left the dim aisles of trees -and the high sighing choirs, and emerged into the windswept -fields. Ellinor looked up at the sky:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“It will be a night of stars,” she said. “Thank God!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ah, love,” he answered her, “my heaven is on earth -to-night!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She nodded her head, with a flickering enigmatic -smile; and in another spell of silence she brought him, -through the shrubbery tangle, to that spot where, across -the ivied ruined walls and the spaces of the Herb-Garden, -the light from her gable-window had been wont to shine -out through the summer nights.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“David,” she whispered—he could feel how she trembled -beside him as she spoke, could almost hear the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>flutter of her heart through her voice—“will you do -all I bid you to-night?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Surely,” he made answer with infinite gentleness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Then, David, will you wait till from here you can see -my light, the light in the window of my old room! And -then, David, when the light shines, will you come to -me there?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>Close though they stood together in the gloom, neither -could see the other’s face but as a dim whiteness. Yet, -at these words, Ellinor felt how the serenity that her husband’s -countenance had worn all the evening was broken -up and swept away by a storm of passion—a passion as -wide in its strength and yet as tender as the wild west -gale that now in its rush embraced them and passed on, -hymning.</p> - -<p class='c012'>He bowed his head, because he could not trust himself -in words, and because the other answer he would -have given her, the answer of straining arms and eager -silent lips, she once again eluded.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The next instant he was alone with the choir of the -elements, the great gathering company of the stars, and -his own tumultuous thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c013'>Ellinor was back in the little room that had held her -as child and widow; that now received her, a bride trembling -on the verge of joy.</p> - -<p class='c012'>No one had expected the lady of Bindon to go back -to this humble nest. There was a great belighted and -beflowered apartment awaiting her in state, somewhere -in the house; whereas here, shutters were barred and all -was in darkness, spiced of lavender and dried roses. -She laid down the lamp she had culled from a wall on -her secret way, and set about her preparations with the -haste that will not stay to think.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Off with the grey satin robes that she had trailed -across the dew-sprent grass and the brown wood paths; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>down with the curls and twists and the high-jewelled -combs wherewith Madam Tutterville had so lovingly -adorned her bridal head.... All her glorious -hair in one loose unbound coil; thus——! Now, -from the recesses of yonder press the white loose long-folded -wrapper which, in her mourning flight, she had -deemed unsuitable for the small trunk of the working -woman. And now, over all, the great grey cloak once -more!</p> - -<p class='c012'>This done, she lifted the lamp again and held it while -she stood a second before the mirror. Yes! so must she -have looked, upon that night of false joy—that night of -delusions and terrors. But truly, not with that fire of -expectancy in her eye, those chasing blushes and pallors -on her cheeks, that flock of rosy smiles that no effort of -will could keep away for long!</p> - -<p class='c012'>Now was the moment come to unbar the shutters and -set the casement wide, to let in the breath of the late -honeysuckle, the exotic fragrances of poor Master Simon’s -ravaged garden—to let out, across the wide spaces, the -summoning beams of her lamp!</p> - -<p class='c012'>She held it aloft a moment, then lit a rushlight: for -in not one detail must she omit anything of that Lammas-night’s -dream-scene to be re-enacted, this time with -awakened senses, to the assuring of their great comfort. -And then, between the inner and the outer rooms she -stood, bare-footed, waiting, listening—the one anguished -moment of that happy day!</p> - -<p class='c012'>And yet not long had she to wait. With incredible -speed came the sounds for which her heart yearned so -fiercely; light, unfaltering steps, approaching along the -echoing stone passage; the door of the outer room opening, -it seemed, at the same instant ... and David -stood before her, out of the darkness! David, with -shining eyes, the heavy hair tossed back from his forehead, -with the pungent breath of the night woods hanging -about his garments.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Come in, David,” said she and strove to make her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>tones as placid in her tremulous expectancy as, on that -other night, they had been in her desperate courage.</p> - -<p class='c013'>She stepped back into the inner room as she spoke, and -he followed. Ah, here the parallel ceased! Followed -her, not with the dilated gaze of the sleep-walker, unknowing, -unconscious; but as the strong man crosses the -threshold of his beloved’s chamber, in passionate reverent -realisation.</p> - -<p class='c012'>From her taper she lit all the candles, and then turned -to him with a smile that quivered upon thrust-down -tears.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Sit down, dear cousin, and we can talk a little; but -not for long”—here the smile, emboldened, became tender, -faintly mischievous— “but not long, for we both -must sleep!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>A second he had watched her unexpected ways with -amazement: but at her words, arrested on his impulse -towards her, he stood and again clasped his forehead. -His eye ran over her figure from loosened hair to bare -feet.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The dream again!” he said in a whisper. A sort of -bewilderment, a trouble gathered upon his splendour of -happiness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>Ellinor broke in quickly: she must not keep her beloved -in perplexity. Every word of what she wanted to say -was imprinted on her memory; no need here to hesitate. -She leaned towards him, a lovely Sibyl, finger on lip, and -poured her mysterious message into his soul.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Remember,” said she, “remember, David, the blessed -cup I gave you and how it set you free. It ran like fire -through your veins, it drove you out into the wood, under -the singing trees. Those trees took voices: ‘Go to her,’ -they sang, and waved their arms. They ran with you, -and you came, leaping over the mountains. Love, you -have come, and you are free, free to love me!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Ellinor!” he cried, and caught her hands in his. -Ever nearer she bent to him, ever more tenderly. Oh, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>surely never man heard words so sweet, so sweetly spoken -on his bridal night!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“You knew I was waiting for you, in my white garments, -with my light burning. You knew that, because -of my faithful heart.”</p> - -<p class='c012'>When she said this, even as before on that Lammas-tide, -he kissed both her hands. But he had no word for -her. Yet she saw how the radiance of her dawn strove -with the clouds of his doubt and darkness.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“Always, since first we met,” she went on, “have our -hearts been singing to each other. I have stood beside you -on your tower ... perhaps you did not know it -always,” the tears brimmed to her lashes, but the dimple -by her smile was arch as she paraphrased his unforgettable -words to suit her woman’s lips: “In the dawn you sought -me in the garden....”</p> - -<p class='c012'>She was halting now, stammering a little. He had -dropped her hand.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“What trial is this!” he cried. “What test do you -put me to? Your words bring me back to the past and -sweet, though they are, there is trouble mingled with -them. Ellinor, why drive me back to dreams when I am -at last awake! Ellinor, Ellinor, the past is gone but the -present I will hold!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>He caught her in his arms, strong arms of love. This -in sooth was no dream-wooer!</p> - -<p class='c012'>“But, David,” she said, “it is because of the present -that I want you to go back to the past. Oh, David, for -love of me, go back to that night when you took the -cup from my hand and you had a long, long sleep! Did -you not dream?”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The tide of crimson that rushed into her face at these -words was reflected in flame upon his. He would soon -know now. The gossamer veil which still divided him -from the truth was being rift. Yet a last diffidence kept -down the cry of understanding on his lips. And still -they were seeking hers in passionate silence. But that -kiss which he would fain have had; that kiss which might -<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>have been the kiss of revelation, Ellinor held in reserve -to be the seal of their acknowledged joy. She turned -her head to glance out of the window.</p> - -<p class='c012'>The great moment of her life had struck at last. The -very harmony of the heavens seemed to be working for -its record. The stars, in their passionless courses, had -had strange influence over the life of that poor child of -earth; and now it was as if they that had mocked her -were making gracious atonement. Serene and aloof, the -stately measure that had held at midnight the new-gemmed -Northern Crown over the lovers’ mad meeting -on that past Lammas-tide, was now unfolding at the -ninth hour the self-same aspect of glory over their bridal -joy. Against the line of David’s tower, just emerging -out of blackness, the light of the new star, even as she -looked, glided forth upon them.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“See, love,” she called, and gently turned his face towards -the casement: “See, our Star—”</p> - -<p class='c012'>And, as he looked, he saw. Deep into his soul dropped -the tender beam; and with it a revelation that seemed -to fire where it struck. He gave a loud cry: “The dream, -the dream!” then fell at her feet. “So strong, so chaste, -so silent!... Oh, my wife!”</p> - -<p class='c012'>The tears streamed down her face as she stooped to -raise him to her lips.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The dream-life is over, David. We stand upon the -threshold of the golden chamber. Shall we not enter?”</p> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004'> -</div> -<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> - -<div class='chapter ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STAR DREAMER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. 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