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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/75173-0.txt b/75173-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6720d29 --- /dev/null +++ b/75173-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5482 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75173 *** + + + + + + SONS OF FIRE + + A Novel + + By Mary Elizabeth Braddon + + THE AUTHOR OF + + "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," "VIXEN," + "ISHMAEL," ETC. + + + _IN THREE VOLUMES_ + + VOL. I. + + LONDON + SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO. + LIMITED + STATIONERS' HALL COURT + + [_All rights reserved_] + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + + CONTENTS OF VOL. I. + + + I. A STRIKING LIKENESS + + II. ALLAN CAREW'S PEOPLE + + III. "A HOME OF ANCIENT PEACE" + + IV. "IN THE ALL-GOLDEN AFTERNOON" + + V. MORE NEW-COMERS + + VI. LIKE THE MOTH TO THE FLAME + + VII. "O THE RARE SPRING-TIME!" + + VIII. NOT YET + + IX. "SO GREW MY OWN SMALL LIFE COMPLETE" + + X. "OUR DREAMS PURSUE OUR DEAD, AND DO NOT FIND" + + XI. THE MASTER OF DISCOMBE + + + + + SONS OF FIRE. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + A STRIKING LIKENESS. + + +The meet was at the Pig and Whistle, at Melbury, nine miles off. Rather +a near meet--compared with the usual appointments of the South Sarum +hounds--the ostler remarked, as Allan Carew mounted a hired hunter in +the yard of the Duke's Head, chief, and indeed only possible inn for a +gentleman to put up at, in the little village of Matcham, a small but +prosperous hamlet, lying in a hollow of the hills between Salisbury +and Andover. He had only arrived on the previous afternoon, and he was +sallying forth in the crisp March morning, on an unknown horse in an +unfamiliar country, to hunt with a pack whose master's name he had +heard for the first time that day. + +"Can he jump?" asked Allan, as he scrutinized the lean, upstanding +bay; not a bad kind of horse by any means, but with that shabby, +under-groomed and over-worked appearance common to hirelings. + +"Can't he, sir? There ain't a better lepper in Wiltshire. And as +clever as a cat! We had a lady staying here in the winter, Mrs. +Colonel Parkyn, brought two 'acks of her own, besides the colonel's +two 'unters, and liked this here horse better than any of 'em. She was +right down mashed on him, as the young gents say." + +"I wonder she didn't buy him," said Allan. + +"She couldn't, sir. Money wouldn't buy such a hunter as this off my +master. He's a fortune to us." + +"I hope I may be of Mrs. Parkyn's opinion when I come home," said +Allan. "Now then, ostler, just tell me which way I am to ride to get to +the Pig and Whistle by eleven o'clock." + +The ostler gave elaborate instructions. A public-house here, an +accommodation lane there--a common to cross--a copse to skirt--three +villages--one church--a post-office--and several cross-roads. + +"You're safe to fall in with company before you get there," concluded +the ostler, whisking a bit of straw out of the bay's off hind hoof, and +eyeing him critically, previous to departure. + +"If I don't, I doubt if I ever shall get there," said Allan, as he rode +out of the yard. + +He was a stranger in Matcham, a "foreigner," as the villagers called +such alien visitors. He had never been in the village before, +knew nothing of its inhabitants or its surroundings, its customs, +ways, local prejudices, produce, trade, scandals, hates, loves, +subserviencies, gods, or devils. And yet henceforward he was to be +closely allied with Matcham, for a certain bachelor uncle had lately +died and left him a small estate within a mile of the village--a +relative with whom Allan Carew had held slightest commune, lunching or +dining with him perhaps once in a summer, at an old family hotel in +Albemarle Street, never honoured by so much as a hint at an invitation +to his rural retreat, and not cherishing any expectation of a legacy, +much less the bequest of all the gentleman's worldly possessions, +comprising a snug, well-built house, in pretty and spacious grounds, +with good and ample stabling, and with farms and homesteads covering +something like fifteen hundred acres, and producing an income of a +little over two thousand a year. + +It need hardly be stated that Allan Carew was not a poor man when this +unexpected property fell into his lap. + +The children of this world are rarely false to the gospel precept--to +every one which hath shall be given. Allan's father had changed his +name, ten years before, from Beresford to Carew, upon his succession +to a respectable estate in Suffolk, an inheritance from his maternal +grandfather, old Squire Carew, of Fendyke Hall, Millfield. + +Allan, an only son, was not by any means ill provided for when his +maternal uncle, Admiral the Honourable Allan Darnleigh, took it into +his head to leave him his Wiltshire property; but this bequest raised +him at once to independence, and altogether dispensed with any further +care about that gentleman-like profession, the Bar, which had so far +repaid Mr. Carew's collegiate studies, labours, outlays, and solicitude +by fees amounting in all to seven pounds seven shillings, which sum +represented the gross earnings of three years. + +So, riding along the rustic high-road, in the clear morning air, under +a sapphire sky, just gently flecked with fleecy cloudlets, Allan Carew +told himself that it was a blessed escape to have done with chambers, +and reading law, and waiting for briefs; and that it was a good thing +to be a country gentleman; to have his own house and his own stable; +not to be obliged to ride another man's horses, even though that other +man were his very father; not to be told after every stiffish day +across country that he had done for the grey, or that the chestnut's +legs had filled as never horse's legs filled before, nor to hear any +other reproachful utterances of an old and privileged stud-groom, who +knew the horses he rode were not his own property. Henceforth his +stable would be his own kingdom, and he would reign there absolute and +unquestioned. He could choose his own horses, and they should be good +ones. He naturally shared the common creed of sons, and looked upon +all animals of his father's buying as "screws" and "duffers." His own +stables would be something altogether different from the drowsy old +stables at home, where horses were kept and cherished because they were +familiar friends, rather than with a view to locomotion. His stud and +his stable should be as different as if horses and grooms had been bred +upon another planet. + +He loved field-sports. He felt that it was in him to make a model +squire, albeit two thousand a year was not a large revenue in these +days of elegant living and Continental holidays, and eclectic tastes. +He felt that among his numerous nephews, old Admiral Darnleigh had +made a wise selection in choosing his god-son, Allan Carew, to inherit +his Wiltshire estate. He meant to be prudent and economical. He had +spent the previous afternoon in a leisurely inspection of Beechhurst. +He had gone over house and stables, and had found all things so well +planned, and in such perfect order, that he was assailed by none of +those temptations to pull down and to build, to alter and to improve, +which often inaugurate ruin in the very dawn of possession. He thought +he might build two or three loose boxes on one side of the spacious +stable-yard. There were two packs within easy reach of Matcham, to say +nothing of packs accessible by rail, and he would naturally want more +hunters than had sufficed for the old sailor, who had jogged out on his +clever cob two or three times a week, and had gone home early, after +artful riding and waiting about the lanes, or to leeward of the great +bare hills, and in snug corners, where a profound knowledge of the +country enabled him to make sure of the hounds. Allan's hunting-stable +would be on a very different footing; and although Beechhurst provided +ample accommodation for a stud of eight, Allan told himself that one of +his first duties would be to build loose boxes. + +"I shall often have to put up a couple of horses for a friend," he +thought. + +The morning was lovely, more like April than March. The bay trotted +along complacently, neither lazy nor feverishly active, but with an air +of knowing what he had to do for his day's wage, and meaning honestly +to do it. Allan was glad that his road took him past Beechhurst. +Possession had still all the charm of novelty. His heart thrilled with +pride as he slackened his pace to gaze fondly at the pretty white +house, low and long, with a verandah running all along the southern +front, admirably placed upon a gentle elevation, against the swelling +shoulder of a broad down, facing south-west, and looking over garden +and shrubbery, and across a stretch of common, that lay between +Beechhurst and the high-road, and gave a dignified aloofness to the +situation; seclusion without dulness, a house and grounds remote, but +not buried or hidden. + +"Nothing manorial about it," mused Allan; "but it certainly looks a +gentleman's place." + +He would naturally have preferred something less essentially modern. He +would have liked Tudor chimneys, panelled walls, and a family ghost. +He would have liked to know that his race had taken deep root in the +soil, had been lords of the manor centuries and centuries ago, when +Wamba was keeping pigs in the woods, and when the jester's bells mixed +with the merry music of hawk and hound. Admiral Darnleigh, so far as +Wiltshire was concerned, had been a new man. He had made his money in +China, speculating in tea-gardens, and other property, while pursuing +his naval career with considerable distinction. He had retired from +active service soon after the Chinese war, a C.B. and a rich man, had +bought Beechhurst a bargain--during a period of depression--and had +settled down in yonder pretty white house, with a small but admirable +establishment, each member thereof a pearl of price among servants, +and had there spent the tranquil even-tide of an honourable and +consistently selfish life. He had never married. As a single man, he +had always felt himself rich; as a married man he might often have +felt himself poor. He had heard Allan at five and twenty declare that +he had done with the romance of life, and that he, too, meant to be a +bachelor; and it may be that this boyish assertion, carelessly made +over a bottle of Lafitte, did in some measure influence the Admiral's +choice of an heir. + +Allan's father and mother were of a more liberal mind. + +"You are in a better position than your father was at your age," said +Lady Emily Carew, on her son's accession to fortune. "I hope you will +marry well--and soon." + +There was no thought of woman's love, or of married bliss, in Allan +Carew's mind, as he rode through the lanes and over a common, and +across a broad stretch of open down to the Pig and Whistle. He was +full, not of his inner self, but of the outer world around and about +him, pleased with the pleasant country in which his lot was cast, +wondering what his new neighbours were like, and how they would receive +him. + +"I wonder whether the South Sarum is a hospitable hunt, or whether the +members are a surly lot, and look upon every stranger as a sponge and +an interloper," he mused. + +He had ridden alone for about half the way, when a man in grey fustian +and leather gaiters, who looked like a small tenant farmer, trotted +past him, turned and stared at him with obvious astonishment, touched +his hat and rode on, after a few words of greeting, which were lost in +the clatter of hoofs. + +He had ridden right so far by the aid of memory; he now followed +the man in grey, and, taking care to keep this pioneer in view, +duly arrived at a small rustic inn, standing upon high ground, and +overlooking an undulating sweep of woodland and common, marsh and +plain, one of those picturesque oases which diversify the breadth of +wind-swept downs. The inn was an isolated building, the few labourers' +cottages within reach being hidden by a turn of the road. + +Hounds and hunt-servants were clustered on a level green on the other +side of the road, but there was no one else upon the ground. + +Allan looked at his watch, and found that it was ten minutes to eleven. + +The man in grey had dismounted from his serviceable cob, and was +standing on the greensward, talking to the huntsman. Huntsman and whips +had taken off their caps to Allan as he rode up, and it seemed to +him that there was at once more respect and more friendliness in the +salutation than a stranger usually receives--above all a stranger in +heather cloth and butcher boots, and not in the orthodox pink and tops. +The man in grey, and the hunt-servants, were evidently talking of him +as he sat solitary in front of the inn. Their furtive glances in his +direction fully indicated that he was the subject of their discourse. + +"They take a curious interest in strangers in these parts," thought +Allan. + +Two minutes afterwards, a stout man, with a weather-beaten red face +showing above a weather-beaten red coat, rode up with two other men. +Evidently the master and his satellites. + +"Hulloa!" cried the jovial man, "what the deuce brings you back so much +sooner than Mrs. Wornock expected you? She told me there was no chance +of our seeing you for the next year. When did you arrive? I never heard +a word about it." + +The master's broad doeskin palm was extended to Allan in the most +cordial way, and the master's broad red face irradiated kindliest +feelings. + +"You are under a misapprehension, sir," said Allan, smiling at the +frank, friendly face, amused at the eager rapidity of speech which had +made it impossible for him to interrupt the speaker. "I have never yet +enjoyed the privilege of a day with the South Sarum, and this is my +first appearance in your neighbourhood." + +"And you ain't Geoffrey Wornock," exclaimed the master, utterly +discomfited. + +"My name is Carew." + +"Ah, your voice is different. I should have known you were not Geoff if +I had heard you speak. And now, of course, when one looks deliberately, +there is a difference--a difference which would be more marked, I dare +say, if Wornock were here. Are you a relation of Wornock's?" + +"I never heard the name of Wornock in my life until I heard it from +you." + +"Well, I'm--dashed," cried the master, suppressing a stronger word as +premature so early in the day. "Did you see the likeness, Champion?" +asked the master, appealing to one of his satellites. + +"Of course I did," replied Captain Champion. "I was just as much +under a delusion as you were--and yet--Mr. Carew's features are not +the same as Wornock's--and his eyes are a different colour. It's the +outlook, the expression, the character in the face that is so like our +friend's--and I think that kind of likeness impresses one more than +mere form and outline." + +"Hang me if I know anything about it, except that I took one man for +the other," said the master, bluntly. "Well, Mr. Carew, I hope you will +excuse my blunder, and that we may be able to show you some sport on +your first day in our country. We'll draw Wellout's Wood, Hamper, and +if we don't find there we'll go on to Holiday Hill." + +Hounds and servants went off merrily across the down, and dipped into +a winding lane. A good many horsemen had ridden up by this time, with +half a dozen ladies among them. Some skirmished across the fields, +others crowded the lane, and in this latter contingent rode the master, +with his hounds in front of him, and Carew at his side. + +"Are you staying in the neighbourhood?" he asked; "or did you come by +rail this morning? A long ride from Matcham Road station, if you did." + +"I am staying at the Duke's Head, at Matcham; but I only arrived +yesterday. I am going to settle in your neighbourhood." + +"Indeed! Have you bought a place?" + +"No." + +"Ah, going to rent one. Wiser, perhaps, till you see how you like this +part of the country." + +"I have had a place left me by my uncle, Admiral Darnleigh." + +"What! are you Darnleigh's heir? Yes, by-the-by, I heard that +Beechhurst was left to a Mr. Carew; but I've a bad memory for names. +So you have got Beechhurst, have you? I congratulate you. A charming +place, compact, snug, warm, and in perfect order. Stables a trifle +small, perhaps, for a hunting man." + +"I am going to extend them," said Allan, with suppressed pride. + +"Then you are going to do the right thing, sir. The only part in +which Beechhurst falls short of perfection is in the stables. Capital +stables, as far as they go, but it isn't far enough for a man who wants +to hunt five days a week, and accommodate his hunting friends. Besides, +the owner of Beechhurst ought to be in a position to take the hounds at +a push." + +"I hope it may be long before that push comes," said Allan. + +"Ah, you're very kind; but I'm not so young as I was once, nor so rich +as I was once--and--the Preacher says there's a time for all things. My +time is very nearly past, and your time is coming, Mr. Carew. When do +you establish yourself at Beechhurst?" + +"I am going back to London to-morrow to settle a few matters, and +perhaps have a look round at Tattersall's, and I hope to be at +Beechhurst in less than a fortnight." + +"I shall do myself the pleasure of calling upon you. Any wife?" + +"I am still in the enviable position my uncle enjoyed till his death." + +"A bachelor? Ah! that won't last long. It's all very well for a +sun-dried old sailor to keep the fair sex at arm's length; but +_you_ won't be able to do it, Mr. Carew. I give you till our +next hunt-ball for a free man. You've no notion what complexions our +Wiltshire women have--Devon can't beat 'em--or what a lot of pretty +girls there are within a fifteen-mile drive of Matcham." + +"I look forward with a thrill of mingled rapture and apprehension to +your next hunt-ball." + +"It'll be here before you know where you are. We have postponed it till +the first of May. We shall kill our May fox on the thirtieth of April, +and dance on his grave on the first." + +"I shall be there, my lord," said Allan, as Lord Hambury galloped off +after his huntsman, who had just put the hounds into the covert. + +A whimper proclaimed that there was something on foot, five minutes +afterwards, and the business of the day began--a goodish day, and a +long one--two foxes run to earth, and one killed in the twilight. It +was seven o'clock when Allan Carew arrived at the Duke's Head, hungry +and thirsty, and not a little bored by having been obliged to explain +to various people that he was no relation to Geoffrey Wornock. + +He had been too much bored at this enforced reiteration to make any +inquiries about this double of his in the course of the day, or during +the long homeward ride; but when he had taken the edge off his appetite +in his cosy sitting-room at the Duke's Head, he began to question the +waiter, as he trifled with the customary hotel tart, a hollow cavern of +short crust roofing in half a bottle of overgrown gooseberries. + +"Do you know Mr. Wornock?" + +"Yes, sir; know him uncommonly well. Wonderful likeness between him and +you, sir; thought you was him till I heard you speak." + +"Our voices are different, I am told." + +"Yes, sir, there's a difference. It ain't much--but it's just enough to +make one doubtful like. Your voice, begging your pardon, sir, ain't as +musical as his. Mr. Wornock's is a voice that would charm a bird off a +tree, as the saying is. And then, after the first glance, one can see +it ain't the same face," pursued the waiter, thoughtfully. "You've got +such a look of him, you see, sir. That's what it is. One don't stop +to think of the shape of a nose or a chin. It's the look that catches +the eye. I suppose that's what people means by a speaking countenance, +sir," added the waiter, garrulous, but not disrespectful. + +"Has Mr. Wornock any land in the county?" asked Allan. + +"Land, sir? Yes, sir," replied the waiter, with a touch of wonder at +being asked such a question. "Mr. Wornock is Lord of the Manor of +Discombe, sir--a very large estate--and a fine old house, added to by +Mr. Wornock's grandfather. The old part was built in the time of King +Charles, sir, and the new part is very fine and picturesque--and the +gardens are celebrated in these parts, sir--quite a show place--but +Mrs. Wornock never allows it to be shown. She lives very secluded, +don't give no entertainments herself, nor visit scarce anywheres. They +do say that she was not right in her mind for some years after Mr. +Wornock's birth, but that's six and twenty years ago, and there may not +be any truth in the report. Gongozorla, sir, or cheddar?" + +"Neither, thanks. Are the Wornocks an old family?" + +"Very old family, sir. Old Saxon name. Came over with Edward the +Confessor." + +"And who was Mrs. Wornock?" + +"Ah, there's a little 'itch there, sir. Nobody knows who Mrs. Wornock +was, or where she came from--and they do say she wasn't county, which +is a pity, seeing that the Wornocks had always married county prior to +that marriage," added the waiter, proud of his concluding phrase. + +"Mr. Wornock is abroad, I understand. Where?" + +"Inja, sir. Cavalry regiment, the Eighteenth South Sarum Lancers." + +"Strange for a man owning so fine a property to go into the army." + +"Well, sir, don't you see, the life at the Manor must have been a +very dull one for a young gentleman. No entertainments. No staying +company. Mrs. Wornock, she don't care for nothink but music--and, +after all, sir, music ain't everythink to a young man. He 'unted, and +he 'unted, and he 'unted, from the time he 'ad legs to cross a pony. +Wherever there was 'ounds to be follered, he follered 'em. But hunting +ain't everythink in life, and it don't last long," added the waiter, +philosophically. + +"Mrs. Wornock, as dowager, should have withdrawn to her Dower-house, +and left the young man free to be as jovial as he liked at the Manor." + +"Ah, that may come to pass when he marries, sir, but not before. +Mr. Wornock is a devoted son. He'd be the last to turn his mother +out-of-doors. And he's almost as keen on music as his mother, I've +heard say; plays the fiddle just like a professional--and the organ." + +"Well," sighed Carew, having heard all he wanted to hear, "I bear no +grudge against Mr. Geoffrey Wornock because he happens to resemble me; +but I wish with all my heart that he could have made it convenient to +live in any other neighbourhood than that in which my lot is cast. That +will do, waiter; I don't want any more wine. You may clear the table, +and bring me some tea at nine o'clock." + +The waiter cleared the table, in a leisurely way, made up the fire, +also in a leisurely way, and contrived to spend a quarter of an +hour upon work that might have been done in five minutes; but Allan +questioned him no further. He flung himself back in an easy-chair, +rested his slippered feet upon the fender, and meditated with closed +eyes. + +Yes, it was a bore, a decided bore, to have a double in the +neighbourhood. A double richer, more important, and altogether better +placed than himself; a double in a Lancer regiment--there is at once +chic and attractiveness in a cavalry soldier--a double who owned just +the fine old manorial estate, and fine old manorial mansion which he, +Allan, would have liked to possess. + +Beechhurst might be a snug little property; the house might be +perfection, as Lord Hambury had averred; but when a house of that +calibre is said to be perfect, the adjective rarely means anything more +than a good kitchen, and a convenient butler's pantry, roomy cellars, +and a well-planned staircase; whereas, to praise a fine old manor house +implies that it contains a panelled hall, and a spacious ballroom, a +library with a groined roof, and a music gallery in the dining-room. +After hearing of Wornock's old house, Allan felt that Beechhurst was +distinctly middle-class, and that his sailor uncle must have been +a poor creature to have found pride and pleasure in such a cockney +paradise. + +He jumped up out of his easy-chair, shook himself, and laughed aloud at +his own pettiness. + +"What an envious brute I am!" he said to himself. "I dare say, when +Wornock comes home, I shall find him a decent fellow, and we shall get +to be good friends. If we do, I'll tell him how I was gnawed with envy +of his better fortune before ever I saw his face." + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + ALLAN CAREW'S PEOPLE. + + +Allan Carew spent the best part of the following day at Beechhurst, +better pleased with his inheritance than he would confess even to +himself. The Admiral's Chinese experiences had not been without +tangible result. The hall was decorated with curios whose value +their present possessor could only guess, and if the greater part +of the house was prim and commonplace, there was one room which +was both handsome and original--this was the smoking-room and +library, a spacious apartment which the Admiral had added to the +original structure, and which was built on the model of a Mandarin's +reception-room. Yes, on the whole, Allan was inclined to think his lot +had fallen on a pleasant heritage. He went up to town in good spirits; +spent ten days in looking at hunting studs at Tattersall's, and made +his modest selection with care and prudence, content to start his +stable with four good hunters, a dog-cart horse, a pony to fetch and +carry, two grooms and a stable-help. + +The all-important business of the stable concluded, he went back to +Suffolk to spend Easter in the bosom of his family, and to tell his +father what he had done. There was perfect harmony of feeling, and +frankest confidence between father and son, and the son's regard +for the father was all the stronger because, under that quiet and +somewhat languid bearing of the Squire of Fendyke, Allan suspected +hidden depths. Of the history of his father's youth, or the history +of his father's heart, the son knew nothing; yet, fondly as he loved +his mother, the excellent and popular Lady Emily, he had a shrewd +suspicion that she was not the kind of woman to have won his father's +heart in the days when love means romance rather than reason. That +she possessed her husband's warm affection now, he, the son, was +fully assured; but he was equally assured that the alliance had been +passionless, a union of two honourable minds, rather than of two loving +hearts. + +There was that in his father's manner of life which to Allan's mind +told of a youth overshadowed by some unhappy experience; and a word +dropped now and then, in the father's talk of his son's prospects and +hopes, a hint, a sigh, had suggested an unfortunate love-affair. + +His mother was more communicative, and had told her son frankly that +she was not his father's first love. + +"You remember your grandmother, Allan?" she said. + +Yes, Allan remembered her distinctly--an elderly woman dressed in some +rich silken fabric, always black, with a silver chatelaine at her side, +on which there hung a curious old enamelled watch that he loved to look +at. A tall slender figure, a thin aquiline countenance, with silvery +hair arrayed in feathery curls under a honiton cap. She had been always +kind to him; but no kindness could dispel the awe which she inspired. + +"I used to dream of her," he said. "Had she a frightening voice, do you +think? She was mixed up in most of my childish nightmares." + +"Poor Allan!" laughed his mother. "She was an excellent woman, but +she loved to command; and one can't command affection, not even the +affection of a child. It was she who made your father marry me. +He liked me, and I liked him, and we had been playfellows; but we +should never have thought of marrying if your grandmother had not, +in a manner, insisted upon it. She told George that I was deeply in +love with him; and she told me that George was devoted to me; and so +we could not help ourselves. And, after all," she went on, with a +comfortable sigh, "it has answered very well. I don't think we could +possibly be fonder of our home, or of each other, than we are. And +your father has his books, and his shooting and fishing, and I have my +farm and my schools--and," with a sudden gush of tenderness, "we both +have you. You ought to be fond of us, Allan. You are the link that +makes us one in heart and mind." + +Allan was fond of them. Both parents had been undeviating in their +indulgence, and he had given them love without stint. But it may be +that he loved the somewhat silent and reserved father with a profounder +affection than he gave to the open-hearted and loquacious mother. +That vague consciousness of a secret in his father's life, of sorrows +unforgotten, but never told, had evoked the son's warmest sympathy. All +that Allan had ever felt of sentiment or romantic feeling hitherto, he +had felt for his father. It is not to be supposed that he had reached +five and twenty without some commerce with Cupid, but his loves had +been only passing fancies, sunbeams glancing on the surface of life's +current, not those deep forces which change the course of the river. + +The characters of father and mother were distinctly marked in their +acceptance of Allan's good fortune. Lady Emily saw only the sunny +side of the inheritance. She was delighted that her son should have +ample means and perfect independence in the morning of life. She was +full of matrimonial schemes on his behalf. Decidedly he ought to +marry, well and quickly. An only son, with an estate in possession, +and another--his patrimonial estate--in prospective. It was his duty +to found a family. She marshalled all the young women she knew in a +mental review. There must be good family--a pure race, untarnished by +the taint of commerce, unshadowed by hushed-up disgrace--divorces, +bankruptcies, turf scandals. There should be money, because even the +two estates would not make Allan a rich man, as the world reckons +wealth nowadays; but they would give him a respectable platform from +which to demand the hand of an heiress. He could woo the wealthiest +without fear of being considered a fortune-hunter. + +"It is sad to think you will like your own place better than this," +said Lady Emily in her cheerfullest voice, "and that we shall hardly +see you except at Christmas and Easter; but it is so nice to know that +you are in a position to marry as early as you like without being under +any obligation to your father; for, indeed, dear, what with his library +and my farm, there would have been very little margin for a proper +establishment for you." + +"My dearest mother, why harp upon matrimony? I have made up my mind to +follow my uncle's excellent example." + +"My poor brother!" sighed Lady Emily. "He was in love with the belle +of the season--a foolish pink and white thing, with one long curl +streaming over her left shoulder, and a frock that you would laugh at, +if you could see her to-day. Of course Allan's chances were hopeless--a +younger son, with a commander's pay, eked out by a pittance from his +father. She used to ride in the Row with a plume in her hat--half a +Spanish fowl--quite the right thing, I assure you, at that time. +Your uncle was twelve years older than I, you know, Allan; and I was +still in short petticoats when he went off to China broken-hearted. +Of course she wouldn't have him, though she said he was the best +waltzer in London. Her people wouldn't let her look at him even, from a +matrimonial point of view." + +Allan went to church with his mother on Easter morning--attended two +services in the fine old church, which seemed much too grand and too +big for the tiny town--her loving heart swelling with pride at having +such an admirable son. Her friends had always been fond of him; but now +it seemed to her there was a touch of deference in their kindness. They +had liked him as _her_ son, and the inheritor of Fendyke Hall; but +perhaps they liked him even a little better now that he was his own +master, a man of independent means. + +He accompanied Lady Emily in her weekly visit to the schools; he +assisted in dealing out Easter gifts to the school-children, and +distributed half a dozen pounds of the very strongest obtainable +tobacco among his male acquaintance in the village of Fendyke--a +village consisting of a rectory, three picturesque farmhouses, a still +more picturesque water-mill and miller's house, a roomy old barn-like +inn, said to have once given shelter to good Queen Bess, and a good +many decent cottages grouped in threes and fours along the broad, level +road, or scattered in side lanes. + +The morning of Easter Monday was given to an inspection of Lady +Emily's white farm--that farm which, next to her son, was the greatest +pride and delight of her innocent and strictly rural life. Here, +all buildings and all creatures were of an almost dazzling purity. +White horses at the plough, a white fox-terrier running beside it, +white birds in the poultry-yard, white cows in the meadow--cows from +Lord Cawdor's old white Pembroke breed, cows from Blickling Park and +Woodbastwick--white cottages for bailiff and farm-labourers, white +palings, white pigs, and white donkeys, a white peacock sunning +himself on the top of the clipped yew-hedge in the bailiff's garden, +white tulips, white hyacinths in the flower-beds. To procure all this +whiteness had cost trouble and money; but there are few home-farms +which give as much delight to their possessors as this white farm gave +to Lady Emily Carew. She had as much pride in its perfection as the +connoisseur who collects only Wedgwood, or only Florentine Majolica, +has in his collection. It is not so much the actual value of the thing +as the fact that the thing is unique, and has cost the possessor years +of patience and labour. Lady Emily would take a long journey to look at +a white cow, or to secure the whitest thing in Brahmas or Cochin Chinas. + +It was a harmless, simple, womanly hobby, and although Lady Emily's +farm was a somewhat costly toy, it served to give her status in the +neighbourhood, and it provided labour for a good many people, who +were well housed and well looked after, and whose children astonished +the school-inspectors by the thoroughness of their education. No +incompetent master or mistress could have held on in the schools where +Lady Emily was a power. She cultivated a friendly familiarity with the +man and woman who taught her cottage children; she asked them to quiet, +confidential luncheons three or four times in a quarter; she sounded +their opinions, plucked out the heart of their mystery, lent them +books, stuffed them with her own ideas, and, in a manner, made them her +mouthpiece. Intensely conservative as to her opinions and prejudices, +and with an absolute loathing for all radical and revolutionary +principles; she was yet, by the beneficence of her nature, more liberal +than many a professing demagogue, and would fain have admitted all +her fellow-creatures to an equal share in the good things of this +life. Her warm heart was full of compassion for the hard lives she saw +around her--hard even where the condition of the agricultural labourer +was at its best--and it was her delight to introduce into these hard +lives occasional glimpses of a happier world--a world of pleasure +and gaiety, laughter and frolic. Lady Emily's Christmas and Whitsun +balls for the villagers and servants; Lady Emily's May-day feast for +the children; Lady Emily's midsummer picnic and harvest-home; and Lady +Emily's fairy fir-tree, which reached to the ceiling of the boy's +schoolroom, every branch laden with benefits--these were events which +broke the slow monotony of each laborious year, joys to dream of and +to remember in many a dull week of toil. Second only to these festive +gatherings in helpfulness were Lady Emily's coal and blanket society, +savings bank, and mothers' meeting--the last a friendly, familiar +gathering held in a spacious old building which had been a brewery in +the days when every country gentleman's household brewed its own beer. +Once a week, through the winter season, Lady Emily sat in the old +brewery, with a circle of cottagers' wives sewing industriously, while +she talked and read to them. Tea and bread-and-butter, a roaring wood +fire, and a bright lamp, were the only material comforts provided; but +these and Lady Emily's friendly welcome and pleasant talk, with the +short story chosen out of a magazine, and the familiar chapter of the +New Testament, read far better than vicar or curate read it in church, +sufficed to make the mothers' meeting a cheerful break in the cottage +matron's busy week. She went back to her homely hearth cheered and +encouraged. Lady Emily had told her the latest news of the great busy +world outside Fendyke, had given her a recipe for a new savoury pie of +ox-cheek and twopenny rice, or a new way of making barley broth; or +had given her a "cutting" for her tiny flower-garden, or had cut out +her new Gari_bawl_di. Lady Emily had been to her as a friend and +counsellor. + +The village remembered with a shudder that long dreary winter when +the great house was empty, while Mr. Carew and his wife were in +Egypt--ordered there by the doctors, after a serious illness of the +squire's. + +Much had been done for the sick and the poor even in that desolate +winter, for the housekeeper had been given a free hand; but no +one could replace Lady Emily, and the gaiety of Fendyke had been +extinguished. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + "A HOME OF ANCIENT PEACE." + + +The hunting was nearly over by the time Allan Carew had established +himself at Beechhurst and completed his stud. The selection of half a +dozen hunters had given him an excuse for running up to London once or +twice a week; and he had revelled in the convenience of express trains +between Salisbury and Waterloo as compared with the slow and scanty +train service between Fendyke and Cambridge, which made a journey from +his native village a trial of youthful patience. + +London was full of pleasant people at this after-Easter season, so +Allan took his time at Tattersall's, saw his friends, dined them, or +dined with them, at those clubs which young men most affect, went to +his favourite theatres, rode in the Park, and saw a race or two at +Sandown, all in the process of buying his horses; but at last the stud +was complete, and his stud-groom, a man he had brought from Suffolk, +the man who taught him to ride, had shaken a wise head, and told his +young master to stop buying. + +"You've got just as many as you can use, Mr. Allan," he said, "and if +you buy another one, it 'ud mean another b'y, and we shall have b'ys +enough for me to keep in order as it is." + +So Allan held his hand. "And now I am a country gentleman," he said, +"and I must go and live on my acres." + +Everybody in the neighbourhood wanted to know him. He was under none +of the disadvantages of the new man about whom people have to ask +each other, "Who is he?" He came to Matcham with the best possible +credentials. His father was a man of old family, against whose name no +evil thing had ever been written. His mother was an earl's daughter; +and the estate which was his had been left him by a man whose memory +was respected in the neighbourhood--a man of easy temper and open hand, +a kind master, and a staunch friend. + +Allan found his hall-table covered with cards when he returned from his +London holiday, and he was occupied for the next fortnight in returning +the calls that had been made for the most part in his absence. To a +shy young man this business of returning calls in an unknown land +would have been terrible--invading unfamiliar drawing-rooms, and +seeing strange faces, wondering which of two matrons was his hostess +and which the friend or sister-in-law--an ordeal as awful as any +mediæval torture; but Allan was not shy, and he accepted the situation +with a winning ease which pleased everybody. When he blundered--and +his blunders were rare--he laughed at his mistake, and turned it +into a jest that served to help him through the first five minutes +of small-talk. He had a quick eye, and in a room full of people saw +at a glance the welcoming smile and extended hand which marked his +hostess. "Quite an acquisition to the neighbourhood," said everybody; +and the mothers of marriageable daughters were as eager to improve the +acquaintance as Jane Austen's inimitable Mrs. Bennett was to cultivate +the irreproachable Bingley. + +In the course of that round of visits Allan contrived to find out a +good deal about the neighbourhood which was henceforward to be his home. + +He discovered that it was, above all, a hunting neighbourhood; but that +it was also a shooting neighbourhood; and that there was bad blood +between the men who wanted to preserve pheasants and the men who wanted +to hunt foxes. From the point of view of the rights of property, the +shooters would appear to be in their right, since they only wanted to +feed and foster birds on their own land; while the hunting-man--were +he but the season-ticket-holding solicitor from Bloomsbury--wanted to +hunt his fox over land which belonged to another man, and to spoil that +other man's costly sport in the pursuit of a pleasure which cost him, +the season-ticket holder, at most a stingy subscription to the hunt he +affected. But, on the other hand, hunting is a strictly national sport, +and shooting is a selfish, hole-and-corner kind of pleasure; so the +hunting men claimed immemorial rights and privileges as against the +owners of woods and copses, and the hatchers of pheasants. + +Allan found another and more universal sport also in the ascendant at +Matcham. The neighbourhood had taken lately to golf, and that game +had found favour with old and young of both sexes. Everybody could +not hunt, but everybody could play golf, or fancy that he or she was +playing golf, or, at least, look on from a respectful distance while +golf was being played. The golf-links on Matcham Common had therefore +become the most popular institution in the neighbourhood, and the +scarlet coat of the golfer was oftener seen than the fox-hunter in +pink, and people came from afar to see the young ladies of Matcham +contest for the bangles and photograph-frames which the golf club +offered as the reward of the strong arm and the accurate eye. + +Allan, who could turn his hand to most things in the way of physical +exercise, was able to hold his own with the members of the golf club, +and speedily became a familiar figure on the links. Here, as elsewhere, +he met people who told him he was like Geoffrey Wornock, and who +praised Wornock's skill at golf just as other people had praised his +riding or his shooting. + +"He seems to be something of a Crichton, this Wornock of yours," Allan +said sometimes, with a suspicion of annoyance. + +He was sick of being told of his likeness to this man whom he had never +seen--weary of hearing the likeness discussed in his presence; weary of +being told that the resemblance was in expression rather than in actual +feature; that there was an indefinable something in his face which +recalled Wornock in an absolutely startling manner; while the details +of that face taken separately were in many respects unlike Wornock's +face. + +"Yet it is more than what is generally called a family likeness," +said Mrs. Mornington of the Grove, a personage in the neighbourhood, +and the cleverest woman among Allan's new acquaintances. "It is the +individuality, the life and movement of the face, that are the same. +The likeness is a likeness of light and shade rather than of line and +colour." + +There was a curious feeling in Allan's mind by the time this kind of +thing had been said to him in different forms of speech by nearly +everybody he knew in Matcham--a feeling which was partly irritation, +partly interest in the man whose outward likeness to himself might be +allied with some identity of mind and inclinations. + +"I wonder whether I shall like him very much, or hate him very much," +he said to Mrs. Mornington. "I feel sure I must do one or the other." + +"You are sure to like him. He is not the kind of man for anybody +to hate," answered the lady quickly; and then, growing suddenly +thoughtful, she added, "You may find a something wanting in his +character, perhaps; but you cannot dislike him. He is thoroughly +likeable." + +"What is the something wanting which you have found?" + +"I did not say I had found----" + +"Oh, but you would not have suggested that I might discover the weak +spot if you had not found it yourself!" + +"You are as searching as a cross-examining counsel," said Mrs. +Mornington, laughing at him. "Well, I will be perfectly frank with +you. To my mind, Geoffrey's character suffers from the fault which +doctors--speaking of a patient's physical condition--call want of tone. +There is a want of mental tone in Geoffrey. I have known him from a +boy. I like him; I admire his talents. He and my sons were at Eton +together. I have seen more of him perhaps than any one else in this +neighbourhood. I like him--I am sorry for him." + +"Why sorry? Has he not all the good things of this world?" + +"Not all. He lost his father before he was five years old; and his +mother is, I fear, a poor creature." + +"Eccentric, I understand." + +"Lamentably so--a woman who isolates herself from all the people whose +society would do her good, and who opens her door to any spirit-rapping +charlatan whose tricks become public talk. Poor thing! One ought not to +be angry with her, but it is provoking to see such a place as Discombe +in the possession of a woman who is utterly unable to fill the position +to which she has been elevated." + +"Who _was_ Mrs. Wornock before she became Mrs. Wornock? I have +heard hints----" + +"Yes, and you are never likely to hear more than hints," retorted +Mrs. Mornington, impatiently. "Nobody in this neighbourhood knows +who Mrs. Wornock was. No creature of her kith or kin has ever been +seen at Discombe. I don't suppose her son knows anything more of her +antecedents than you or I. Old Squire Wornock left Discombe about +seven and twenty years ago to drink the waters of some obscure spring +in Bohemia--a place nobody hereabouts had ever heard of. He was past +sixty when he set out on that journey, a confirmed bachelor. One would +as soon have expected him to bring back the moon as to bring a wife, +but to the utter stupefaction of all his friends and acquaintance, he +returned with a pretty-looking delicate young creature he had married +in Germany--at Dresden, I believe--and who looked much more like dying +within the next five years than he did." + +"Did he introduce her to his neighbours? Was she well received?" + +"Oh, she was received well enough. Mr. Wornock was not the kind of man +to marry a disreputable person. People took her on trust. She seemed +painfully shy, and her only merit in society was that she sang very +prettily. Everybody called upon her, but she did not respond warmly +to our advances; and about six months after her marriage there were +rumours of an alarming kind about her health--her mental health. Our +own good little doctor, dear old Mr. Podmore, who had attended three +generations of Wornocks, shook his head when he was questioned about +her. 'Was it serious?' people asked--for I suppose you know that in +a neighbourhood as rustic as ours, if the doctor's carriage is seen +at a particular house very often, people _will_ ask questions +of that doctor. Yes, it was very serious. We never got beyond that. +Mr. Podmore was loyal to his patient, fondly as he loves a gossip. +By-and-by we heard that Mr. Wornock had taken his young wife off to +Switzerland. He who in his earlier life had seemed rooted to the soil +was off again to the Continent, and Discombe was shut up once more. I'm +afraid we all hated Mrs. Wornock. In a neighbourhood like ours, one +detests anybody who disturbs the pleasant order of daily life. Dinners +and hunting-breakfasts at Discombe were an element in our daily lives, +and we resented their cessation. When I say we, I mean, of course, our +men-folk." + +"Were your men-folk long deprived of Mr. Wornock's hospitalities?" + +"For ever," answered Mrs. Mornington, solemnly. "The Wornocks had only +been gone half a year or so when we read the announcement of a son and +heir, born at Grindelwald in the depth of winter. A nice place for the +future owner of Discombe to be born in--Grindelwald--at the sign of +the Bear! We were all indignant at the absurdity of the thing. This +comes of an old man marrying a nobody, we said. Well, Mr. Carew, it was +ages before we saw anything more of the Wornocks. Geoffrey must have +been three or four years old when his father and mother brought him to +the house in which he ought to have been born--a poor little fragile +Frenchified object, hanging on to a French _bonne_, and speaking +nothing but French. Not one sentence of his native tongue did the +little wretch utter for a year or two after he appeared among us!" + +Allan laughed heartily at Mrs. Mornington's indignant recital of this +ancient history. Her disgust was as fresh and as vigorous as if she +were describing the events of yesterday. + +"Was he a nice child?" he asked, when they had both had their laugh. + +"Nice? Well, yes, he was nice, just as a French poodle is nice. He +was very active and intelligent--hyper-active, hyper-intelligent. He +frightened me. But the Wornocks and the Morningtons had been close +friends from generation to generation, so I could not help taking +an interest in the brat, and I would have been a cordial friend of +the brat's mother, for poor old Wornock's sake, if she would have +let me. But she wouldn't, or she couldn't, respond to a sensible, +matter-of-fact woman's friendly advances. The poor thing was in the +clouds then, and she is in the clouds now. She has never come down +to earth. Music, spirit-rapping, thought-reading, slate-writing--what +can one expect of a woman who gives all her mind to such things as +those?--a woman who lets her housekeeper manage everything from cellar +to garret, and who has no will of her own in her garden and hot-houses? +I have known Mrs. Wornock seven and twenty years, and I know no more of +her now than I knew when she came a stranger to Discombe. I call upon +her three or four times a year, and she returns my calls, and sits in +my drawing-room for twenty minutes or so looking miserable and longing +to go. What can one do with such a woman?" + +"Is it sheer stupidity, do you think?" + +"Stupidity! No, I think not. She has anything but a stupid expression +of countenance. She has an air of spirituality, as of a nature above +the common world, which cannot come down to common things. I am told +that in music she is really a genius; that her powers of criticism and +appreciation are of the highest order. She plays exquisitely, both +organ and piano. She has, or had, a heavenly soprano voice; but I have +not heard her sing since Geoffrey's birth." + +"She must be interesting," said Allan, with conviction. + +"She is interesting--only she won't let one be interested in her." + +"Can one get a look at her? Does she go to Matcham Church?" + +"Never. That is another of her eccentricities. She either goes to +that funny little old church you may have noticed right among the +fields--Filbury parish church--nearly six miles from Discombe, or she +drives thirteen miles to Salisbury Cathedral. I believe she sometimes +plays the organ at Filbury. That organ was her gift, by the way. They +had only a wretched harmonium when she came to Discombe." + +"I shall go to Filbury Church next Sunday," said Allan. + +"Shall you? I hope you are not forgetting the lapse of time. This +interesting widow is only interesting from a psychological standpoint, +remember. She must be five and forty years of age. Not even Cleopatra +would have been interesting at forty-five." + +"I am under no hallucination as to the lady's age. I want to see +the mother of Geoffrey Wornock. It is Geoffrey Wornock in whom I am +interested." + +"Egotistical person! Only because Geoffrey is like you." + +"Is there any man living who would not be interested in his double?" + +"Ah, but he is not your double! The village mind is given to +exaggeration. He has not your firm chin, nor your thoughtful brow. His +face is a reminiscence of yours. It is weaker in every characteristic, +in every line. You are the substance, he the reflection." + +"Now, you are laughing at my egotism, and developing my vanity." + +"No, believe me, no!" protested Mrs. Mornington, gaily. "I see you both +with all your defects and qualities. You have the stronger character, +but you have not Geoffrey's fascinating personality. His very faults +are attractive. He is by no means effeminate; yet there is a something +womanish in his nature which makes women fond of him. He has inherited +his mother's sensitive, dreamy temperament. I feel sure he would see +a ghost if there were one in his neighbourhood. The ghost would go to +him instinctively, as dogs go unbidden to certain people--sometimes +to people who don't care about them; while the genuine dog-lover +may be doing his best to attract bow-wow's attention, and failing +ignominiously." + +"Every word you say increases my interest in Mr. Wornock. In a +neighbourhood like this, where everybody is sensible and commonplace +and conventional, excepting always your brilliant self"--Mrs. +Mornington nodded, and put her feet on the fender--"it is so delightful +to meet some one who does not move just on the common lines, and is not +worked by the common machinery." + +"You will find nothing common about Geoffrey," said the lady. "I have +known him since he was a little white boy in a black velvet suit, and +he was just as enigmatical to me the day he left for Bombay as he was +on his seventh birthday. I know that he has winning manners, and that I +am very fond of him; and that is all I know about him." + + * * * * * + +Allan drove to Filbury on the following Sunday, and was in his place +in the little old parish church ten minutes before the service began. +The high oak pews were not favourable to his getting a good view of the +congregation, since, when seated, the top of his head was only on a +level with the top of his pew; but by leaving the door of the pew ajar +he contrived to see Mrs. Wornock as she went up the narrow aisle--nave +there was none, the pews forming a solid square in the centre of the +church. Yes, he was assured that slim, graceful figure in a plain +grey cashmere gown and grey straw bonnet must be Mrs. Wornock and no +other. Indeed, the inference was easily arrived at, for the rest of +the congregation belonged obviously to the small tenant-farmer and +agricultural-labourer class--the women-folk homely and ruddy-cheeked, +the men ponderous, and ill at ease in their Sunday clothes. + +The lady in the grey gown made her way quietly to a pew that occupied +the angle of the church nearest the pulpit and reading-desk--the old +three-decker arrangement, for clerk, parson, and preacher. Mr. Wornock +was patron of the living of Filbury and Discombe, and this large, +square pew had belonged to the Wornocks ever since the rebuilding of +the church in Charles the Second's reign, a year or two after the +manor-house was built, when the estate, which had hitherto been an +outlying possession of the Wornocks, became their place of residence, +and most important property. + +Allan could see only the lady's profile from his place in the body +of the church--a delicate profile, worn as if with long years of +thoughtfulness; a sweet, sad face that had lost all freshness of +colouring, but had gained the spiritual beauty which grows in thought +and solitude, where there are no vulgar cares to harass and vex the +mind. A pensive peacefulness was the chief characteristic of the face, +Allan thought, when the lady turned towards the organ during the _Te +Deum_, listening to the village voices, which sang truer than +village voices generally do. + +Allan submitted to the slow torture of a very long sermon about +nothing particular, on a text in Nehemiah, which suggested not the +faintest bearing on the Christian life--a sermon preached by an elderly +gentleman in a black silk gown, whose eloquence would have been more +impressive had his false teeth been a better fit. After the sermon +there was a hymn, and the old-fashioned plate was carried round by +a blacksmith, whom Allan recognized as a man who had fastened his +hunter's shoe one day at a forge on the outskirts of Filbury, in the +midst of a run; and then the little congregation quietly dispersed, +after an exchange of friendly greetings between the church door and the +lych-gate. + +Allan's gig was waiting for him near the gate, and a victoria, on +which he recognized the Wornock crest--a dolphin crowned--stood in the +shade of a row of limes, which marked the boundary of the Vicarage +garden. Allan waited a little, expecting to see Mrs. Wornock come out; +and then, as she did not appear, he re-entered the churchyard, and +strayed among moss-mantled tomb-stones, reading the village names, the +village histories of birth and death, musing, as he read, upon the long +eventless years which make the sum of rustic lives. + +The blue pure sky, the perfume of a bean-field in flower, the hawthorns +in undulating masses of snowy blossom, and here and there, in the +angles of the meadows, the heaped-up gold of furze-bushes that were +more bloom than bush--all these made life to-day a sensuous delight +which exacted no questionings of the intellect, suggested no doubt as +to the bliss of living. If it were always thus--a crust of bread and +cheese under such a sky, a bed in the hollow of yonder bank between +bean-field and clover, would suffice for a man's content, Allan +thought, as he stood on a knoll in God's acre, and looked down upon +the meadows that rose and fell over ridge and hollow with gentle +undulations between Filbury and Discombe. + +What had become of Mrs. Wornock? He had made the circuit of the +burial-ground, pausing often to read an epitaph, but never relaxing +his watchfulness of the carriage yonder, waiting under the limes. The +carriage was there still, and there was no sign of Mrs. Wornock. Was +there a celebration? No; he had seen all the congregation leave the +church, except the mistress of that curtained pew in the corner near +the pulpit. + +Presently the broad strong chords of a prelude were poured out upon the +still air--a prelude by Sebastian Bach, masterful, imposing, followed +by a fugue, whose delicate intricacies were exquisitely rendered by +the player. Standing in the sunshine listening to that music, Allan +remembered what Mrs. Mornington had told him. The player was Mrs. +Wornock. He had seen the professional organist and schoolmaster leave +the church with his flock of village boys. Mrs. Wornock had lingered +after the service to gratify herself with the music she loved. He +sauntered and loitered near the open window, listening to the music +for nearly an hour. Then the organ sounds melted away in one last long +rallentando, and presently he heard the heavy old key turn in the +heavy old lock, and the lady in grey came slowly along the path to the +lych-gate, followed by a clumsy boy, who looked like a smaller edition +of the blacksmith. Allan stood within a few yards of the pathway to +see her go by, hoping to be himself unobserved, screened by the angle +of an old monument, where rust had eaten away the railing, and moss +and lichen had encrusted the pompous Latin epitaph, while the dense +growth of ivy had muffled the funeral urn. Here, in the shadow of +ostentation's unenduring monument, he waited for that slender and still +youthful form to pass. + +In figure the widow of twenty years looked a girl, and the face which +turned quickly towards Allan, her keen ear having caught the rustle +of the long grass under his tread, had the delicacy of outline and +transparency of youth. The cheek had lost its girlish roundness, and +the large grey eye was somewhat sunken beneath the thoughtful brow. +Involuntarily Allan recalled a familiar line-- + + "Thy cheek is pale with thought and not with care." + +That expression of tranquil thoughtfulness changed in an instant as +she looked at him; changed to astonishment, interrogation, which +gradually softened to a grave curiosity, an anxious scrutiny. Then, as +if becoming suddenly aware of her breach of good manners, the heavy +eyelids sank, a faint blush coloured the thin cheeks, and she hurried +onward to the gate where her carriage had drawn up in readiness for her. + +Her footman, in a sober brown livery, was holding the gate open for +her. Her horses were shaking their bridles. She stepped lightly into +the victoria, nodded an adieu to the schoolboy who had blown the organ +bellows, and vanished into the leafy distance of the lane. + +"So that is my double's mother. An interesting face, a graceful figure, +and a lady to the tips of her fingers. Whether she is county, or not +county, Geoffrey Wornock has no cause to be ashamed of his mother. +Nothing would induce me to think ill of that woman." + +He brooded on that startled expression which had flashed across Mrs. +Wornock's face as she looked at him. Clearly she, too, had seen the +likeness which he bore to her son. + +"I wonder whether it pains her to be reminded of him when he is so far +away," speculated Allan, "or whether she feels kindly towards me for +the sake of that absent son?" + +This question of his was answered three days later by the lady's own +hand. Among the letters on Allan's breakfast-table on Wednesday morning +there was one in a strange penmanship, which took his breath away, for +on the envelope, in bold brown letters, appeared the address, Discombe +Manor. + +He thrust all his other letters aside--those uninteresting letters +which besiege the man who is supposed to have money to spend, from +tradesmen who want to work for him, charities who want to do good for +him, stock-jobbers who want to speculate for him--the whole race of +spiders that harassed the well-feathered fly. He tore open the letter +from Discombe Manor, and his eye ran eagerly over the following lines:-- + + "DEAR SIR, + + "People tell me that you are kind and amiable, and I am emboldened + by this assurance to ask you a favour. Etiquette forbids me to call + upon you, and as I rarely visit anybody, it might be long before we + should meet casually in the houses of other people; but you can, + if you like, gratify a solitary woman by letting her make your + acquaintance in her own house; and perhaps when my son comes home + on leave, the acquaintance, so begun, may ripen into friendship. I + dare say people have told you that you are like him, and you will + hardly wonder at my wishing to see more of a face that reminds me + of my nearest and dearest. + + "I am generally at home in the afternoon. + + "Very truly yours, + "E. WORNOCK." + +"E. Wornock!" he repeated, studying the signature. "Why no +Christian name? And what is the name which that initial represents? +Eliza, perhaps--and she sinks it, thinking it common and +housemaidish--forgetting how Ben Jonson, by that housemaidish name, +does designate the most glorious of queens. Possibly Ellen--a +milk-and-waterish name, with less of dignity than Eliza; or Emily, my +mother's name--graceful but colourless. I have never thought it good +enough for so fine a character as my mother. She should have been +Katherine or Margaret, Gertrude or Barbara, names that have a fulness +of sound which implies fulness of meaning. I will call at Discombe +Manor this afternoon. Delay would be churlish--and I want to see what +Geoffrey Wornock's home is like." + +The afternoon was warm and sunny, and Allan made a leisurely circuit of +the chase and park of Discombe on his way to Mrs. Wornock's house. + +The beauty of the Manor consisted as much in the perfection of detail +as in the grandeur of the mansion or the extent of gardens and park. +The mansion was not strikingly architectural nor even strikingly +picturesque. It was a sober red brick house, with a high, tiled +roof, and level rows of windows--those of the upper story were the +original lattices of 1664, the date of the house; but on the lower +floors mullions and lattices had given place to long French windows, +of a uniform unpicturesque flatness, opening on a broad gravel walk, +beyond which the smooth shaven grass sloped gently to the edge of a +moat, for Mrs. Wornock's house was one of those moated manor-houses +of which there are so few left in the south of England. The gardens +surrounding that grave-looking Carolian house had attained the ideal +of horticultural beauty under many generations of garden-lovers, the +ideal of old-fashioned beauty, be it understood; the beauty of clipped +hedges and sunk lawns, walls of ilex and of yew, solemn avenues of +obelisk-shaped conifers, labyrinths, arches, temples and arcades of +roses, tennis-lawns and bowling-greens, broad borders of old-fashioned +perennials, clumps and masses of vivid colour, placed with art that +seemed accidental wherever vivid colour was wanted to relieve the +verdant monotony. + +If the gardens were perfect, the house, farm, and cottages were even +more attractive in their arcadian grace, the grace of a day that is +dead. Quaint roofs and massive chimney-stacks, lattices, porches, +sun-dials, gardens brimming over with flowers, trim pathways, shining +panes, everywhere a spotless cleanliness, a wealth of foliage, an +air of prosperous fatness, bee-hives, poultry, cattle, all the signs +and tokens of dependents for whom much is done, and whose dwellings +flourish at somebody else's expense. + +Allan noted the cottages which bore the Wornock "W" above the date of +the building--he noted them, but lost count of their number--keepers' +lodges in the woodland which skirted the park--gardeners' or +dairy-men's cottages at every park gate; farmhouse and bailiff's house; +cottages for coachmen and helpers. At every available angle where +gable, roof, and quaint old chimney-stack could make a picturesque +feature in the landscape, a cottage had been placed, and the number of +these ideal dwellings suggested territorial importance in a manner more +obvious than any effect made by the mere extent of acreage, a thing +that is talked about but not seen. Discombe Chase, the Discombe lodges, +and the village and school-houses of Discombe were obvious facts which +impressed the stranger. + +That sweetly pensive face of Mrs. Wornock's had slain the viper envy +in Allan's breast. When first he rode through those woods and over +those undulating pastures and by those gables embowered in roses and +wisteria, or starred with the pale blue clematis, he had felt a certain +sour discontent with his own good fortune, about which people, from +his mother down to the acquaintance of yesterday, prattled and prosed +so officiously. He was sick of hearing himself called a lucky fellow. +Luck, forsooth! what was his luck compared with Geoffrey Wornock's? +That a bachelor uncle of his, having scraped together a modest little +fortune, and not being able to carry it with him to the nether-world, +should have passed it on to him, Allan, was not such a strange event as +to warrant the running commentary of congratulation that had assailed +his ear ever since he came to Matcham. No one congratulated Geoffrey +Wornock. Nobody talked of _his_ good luck. He had been born in +the purple, and people spoke of him as of one having a divine right +to the best things that this earth can give--to a Carolian mansion, +and chase and park, and wide-spreading farms. There seemed to Allan +Carew's self-consciousness an implied disparagement of himself in +the tone which Matcham people took about Geoffrey Wornock. They in a +manner congratulated him on his likeness to the Lord of Discombe Manor, +and insinuated that he ought to be proud of himself because of this +resemblance to the local magnate. + +To-day, however, Allan forgot all those infinitesimal vexations which +in the beginning of his residence at Matcham had made the name of +Wornock odious to him. His thoughts were full of that pale sad face, +the wasted cheeks, the heavy eyelids, the somewhat sickly transparency +of complexion, the large violet eyes, which lit up the whole face as +with a light that is not of this world. It was the most spiritual +countenance he had ever seen--the first face which had ever suggested +to him the epithet ethereal. + +He remembered what society had told him about Mrs. Wornock; her +encouragement of spirit-rapping people and thought-reading people, +and every phase of modern super-naturalism; her passion for music--a +passion so absorbing as almost to pass the border-line of sanity; +at least in the opinion of the commonplace sane. He wondered no +longer that such a woman had held herself aloof from the hunting, and +shooting, and dinner-giving, and tea-drinking population scattered +within a radius of eight or ten miles of Discombe; the people with +whom, had she lived the conventional life of the conventional rural +lady, she should have been on intimate terms. She was among them, but +not of them, Allan told himself. + +"Surely I am not in love with a woman old enough to be my mother!" he +thought, between jest and earnest, as he drove up to the house. "I have +not thought so persistently of any woman since I was sick for love of +the dean's pretty daughter, fairest and last of my calf-loves." + +He was not wholly in jest, for during the last three days the lady's +image had haunted him with an insistency that bordered on "possession." +It was as if those dark grey eyes had cast a spell upon him, and as +if he must needs wait until the enchantress who held him in her mystic +bands should unweave her mystery and set his thoughts at liberty. + +The hall door stood open to the summer air and the afternoon sun. A +large black poodle, with an air of ineffable wisdom, was stretched near +the threshold; a liver-and-white St. Bernard sunned his hairy bulk upon +the grass in front of the steps; and on the broad terrace to the right +of the house a peacock spread the rainbow splendour of his tail, and +strutted in stately slowness towards the sun. + +"House and garden belong to fairyland," thought Allan. "The enchantress +has but to wave her wand and fix the picture for a century. We may +have extended the limit of human life a hundred years hence, and +Mrs. Wornock's age may count as girlhood, when some gay young prince +of fifty-five shall ride through the tangled woodland to awaken the +sleeper. Who can tell? 'We know what we are, but we know not what we +may be.'" + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + "IN THE ALL-GOLDEN AFTERNOON." + + +The hall door stood wide open to the sunlight, sufficiently guarded by +that splendid brute, the St. Bernard. + +A middle-aged footman in the sober Wornock livery came at the sound of +the bell, the St. Bernard watching the visitor with grave but friendly +eyes, and evidently perfectly aware of his respectability. + +Mrs. Wornock was at home. A slow and solemn butler now appeared upon +the scene, and led the way to a corridor which opened out of the hall; +and at the end of this corridor, like Vandyke's famous portrait of +Charles the First at Warwick Castle, the full-length portrait of a +young man in a hunting-coat looked Allan Carew in the face. + +In spite of all he had been told about his likeness to the owner of +Discombe, the sight of that frank young face looking at him under the +bright white light fairly startled him. For the moment it seemed to him +as if he had seen his own reflection in a cheval-glass; but as he drew +nearer the canvas the likeness lessened, the difference in the features +came out, and he saw that the resemblance was less a likeness than a +reminiscence. Distance was needed to make the illusion, and he could +understand now why his new friends of the hunting-field should have +taken him for Wornock on that first morning when he rode up to them as +a stranger. + +The portrait was by Millais, painted with as much _brio_ and +vigour as the better-known picture of the young Marchioness of Huntley. +Mr. Wornock was standing in an old stone doorway, leaning in an easy +attitude against the deep arch of the door, hunting-crop, cigar-case, +and hat on a table in the background, standing where he had stood on +many a winter morning, waiting for his horse. + +There was a skylight over this end of the corridor, and the portrait of +the master of the house shone out brilliantly under the clear top-light. + +The butler stopped within a few paces of the portrait, opened a low, +old-fashioned door, and ushered Mr. Carew into a spacious room, at +the further end of which a lady was sitting by an open window, beyond +which he saw the long vista of an Italian garden, a cypress avenue, +where statues were gleaming here and there in the sunshine. There was +a grand piano on one side of the room, an organ on the other; books +filled every recess. This spacious apartment was evidently music-room +and library rather than drawing-room, and here, amidst books and music, +lived the lonely lady of the house. + +She came to meet him with a friendly smile as he advanced into the +room, holding out her hand. + +"It was very good of you to come so soon," she said, in her low, +musical voice. "I wanted so much to see you--to know you. Yes, you are +very like him. One of those accidental likenesses which are so common, +and yet seem so strange. My husband had a friend who was murdered +because he was like Sir Robert Peel; but my son is not a public man, +and he has no enemies. You will run no risks on account of your +likeness to him. + +"I am grateful to the likeness which has given me the honour of knowing +Mrs. Wornock," said Allan, taking the seat to which she motioned him, +as she resumed her low chair by the window. + +"Indeed, you have no reason. I am a very stupid person. I go nowhere, I +see very few people; and the people I do see are people whom you would +think unworthy of your interest." + +"Not if you are interested in them. They cannot be unworthy." + +"Oh, I am easily interested! I like strange people. I like to believe +strange things. Your friend, Mrs. Mornington, will tell you that I am a +foolish person." + +"You have seen Mrs. Mornington lately?" questioned Allan. + +"Yes; she was here yesterday afternoon. She is always bright and +amusing, and I always feel particularly stupid in her society. She is +always bright and amusing, and I always feel particularly stupid in her +society. She talked of you, but I did not tell her I wanted to make +your acquaintance. She would have offered to make a luncheon-party for +me to meet you--or something dreadful of that kind." + +"You have a great dislike to society, Mrs. Wornock?" he asked, keenly +interested. + +Her manner was so fresh and simple, almost childlike in its confiding +candour, and her appearance was no less interesting than her manner. +It is the fashion of our day for women of five and forty to look +young, even to girlishness; but most women of five and forty are +considerably indebted to modern art for that advantage. Here there was +no art. The pale, clear fairness of the complexion owed nothing to the +perfumer's palette. No _poudre des fées_ blanched the delicate +brow; no _rose d'amour_ flushed the cheek; no _eau de Medée_ +brightened the large violet eyes. The lines which thought and sorrow +had drawn upon the fair brow were undisguised, and in the soft, pale +gold of the hair there were threads of silver. The youthfulness of the +face was in its colouring and expression--the complexion so delicately +fair, the countenance so trustful and pleading. It was the countenance +of a woman to whom the conventionalities and jargon of modern life were +unknown. + +"You saw my son's portrait in the corridor?" said Mrs. Wornock. + +"Yes. It struck my untutored eye as a very fine picture--almost as +powerful as the Gladstone and the Salisbury, which I remember in the +Millais collection at the Grosvenor." + +"But as for the likeness to yourself, now--did that strike you as +forcibly as it has struck other people?" + +"I confess that as I stood in the hall I was inclined to exclaim, 'That +is I or my brother!' But as I came nearer the picture I saw there was +considerable diversity. To begin with, your son is much handsomer than +I." + +"The drawing of his features may be more correct, but you are quite +handsome enough," she answered, with her pretty friendly air, as if she +had been his aunt. "And your face is more strongly marked than his, +just as your voice is stronger," she added, with a sigh. + +"Your son is not an invalid, I hope?" + +"An invalid! No. But he is not very strong. He could not play football. +He hated even cricket. He is passionately fond of horses, and an ardent +sportsman; but he can be sadly idle. He likes to lie about in the +sunshine, reading or dreaming. I fear he is a dreamer, like his mother." + +"He is not like you, in person." + +"No." + +"He is like his father, no doubt." + +"You will see his father's picture, and you can judge for yourself. +Well, we are to be friends, are we not, Mr. Carew? And you will come +to see me sometimes; and if you ever have any little troubles which can +be lightened by a woman's sympathy, you will come and confide them to +me, I hope." + +"It will be very sweet to be allowed to confide in so kind a friend," +said Allan. + +"My son will be home for his long leave before the end of the year, and +I want you to make him your friend. He is very amiable," again with a +suppressed sigh. "Come, now it is your turn to tell me something about +yourself. This room tells you all there is to be told about me." + +"It tells me you are very fond of music." + +"I live for it. Music has been my companion and consoler all my life." + +"And I hope you will let me hear you play again some day." + +"Again? Ah, I forgot! You were in the churchyard last Sunday while I +was playing. Did you listen?" + +"As long as you played. I was under the open window most of the time." + +"You are fond of organ music?" + +"As fond as an ignorant man may be. I know nothing of the subtleties of +music. I have never been educated up to Wagner or Dvorak. I love the +familiar voices--Mozart, Beethoven, Verdi, Gounod, Auber even, and I +adore our English master of melody, Sullivan. Does that shock you?" + +"Not at all. I will play his cantata for you some day. If you have +nothing better to do with your time this afternoon, I should like to +show you my garden." + +"I shall be enchanted. I am enchanted already with that long straight +walk, those walls of cypress and yew, that peacock sunning his emerald +and sapphire plumage by the dial. In such a garden did Beatrice hide +when Hero and her ladies talked of Benedick's passion; in such a garden +did Jessica and Lorenzo loiter under the moonlight." + +"I see you love your Shakespeare." + +"As interpreted by Irving and Ellen Terry. The Lyceum was the school in +which I learnt to love the bard. An Eton examination in Richard the +Second only prejudiced me against him." + +"Mr. Wornock was a great Shakespearian." + +They were in the garden by this time--sauntering with slow footsteps +along the level stretch of turf on one side of the broad gravel walk. +At the end of the cypress avenue there was a semicircular recess, shut +in by a raised bank, and a wall of clipped yew, in which, at regular +intervals, there were statues in dark green niches. + +"Mr. Wornock brought the statues from Rome when he was a young man. +The gardens were laid out by his grandfather nearly a century ago," +explained Mrs. Wornock. + +Allan noticed that she spoke of her husband generally as "Mr. Wornock." + +"That amphitheatre reminds me a little of the Boboli gardens," said +Allan; "but there is a peacefulness about this solitude which no public +garden can have." + +Three peacocks were trailing their plumage on the long lawns between +the house and the amphitheatre, and one less gorgeous but more +ethereal, a bird of dazzling whiteness, was perched, with outspread +tail, on an angle of the cypress wall. + +The lady and her companion strolled to the end of the lawn, and crossed +the amphitheatre to a stone temple, open on the side fronting the +south-western sun, and spacious enough to accommodate a dozen people. + +"If you had a garden-play, how delightfully this temple would serve for +a central point in your stage," said Allan, admiringly. + +"People have asked me to lend them the gardens for a play--'Twelfth +Night,' or 'Much Ado about Nothing;' but I have always said no. I +should hate to see a crowd in this dear old garden." + +"Yet there are people who would think such a place as this created on +purpose for garden-parties, and who would desire nothing better than a +crowd of smart people." + +Mrs. Wornock shuddered at the mention of smart people. + +"A party of that kind would be misery for me," she said. "And now +tell me about yourself, and your relations. Mrs. Mornington told me +that your father and mother are both living, and that you inherited +Beechhurst from your uncle. I remember seeing Admiral Darnleigh years +and years ago, when everything at Discombe and at Matcham was new to +me. It must be sad for your mother to lose you from her own home." + +"My mother is not given to sadness," Allan answered, smiling. "She is +the best and kindest of mothers, and I know she loves me as dearly as +any son need desire; but she is quite resigned to my having my own home +and my own interests. She would argue, perhaps, that were I to marry I +must have a house of my own, and that my establishment at Beechhurst is +only a little premature." + +"You are very much attached to your mother?" + +"Very much--and to my father." + +"Your tone as you say those words tell me that your father is the +dearer of the two." + +"You have a quick ear for shades of meaning, Mrs. Wornock." + +"Pray do not think me impertinent. I am not questioning you out of +idle curiosity. If we are to be friends in the future, I must know and +understand something of your life and your mind. But perhaps I bore +you--perhaps you think me both eccentric and impertinent." + +"My dear Mrs. Wornock, I am deeply touched that you should offer to be +my friend. Be assured I have no reserve, and am willing--possibly too +willing--to talk of myself and my own people. I have no dark corners +in my life. My history is all open country--an uninteresting landscape +enough. But there is no difficult going--there are no bogs or risky +bits over which the inquiring spirit need skim lightly. Your ear did +not deceive you, just now. Fondly as I love my mother, I will freely +confess that the bond that draws me to my father is the stronger +bond. In the parrot jargon of the day, his is the more interesting +'personality.' He is a man of powerful intellect, whose mind has +done nothing for the good of the world--who will die unhonoured and +unremembered except by his familiar friends. There is one question I +have asked myself about him ever since I was old enough to think--a +question which I first asked myself when I began to read classics +with him in my school vacations, and which I had not finished asking +myself when his untiring help had enabled me to take a first-class in +the Honour School. To me it has always been a mystery that a man of +wide attainments and financial independence should have been utterly +destitute of ambition. My father was a young man when he married; he is +still in the prime of life; and for six and twenty years he has been +content to vegetate in Suffolk, and has regarded his annual visit to +London as more of an affliction than a relief. It is as if the hands +of life's clock had stopped in the golden noon of youth. I have told +myself again and again that my father's life must have been shadowed +by some great sorrow before his marriage, young as he was when he +married." + +Mrs. Wornock listened intently, her head slightly bent, her clasped +hands resting on her knee, her sensitive lips slightly parted. + +"You say that your father married young," she said, after a brief +silence, in which she seemed to be thinking over his words. "What do +you call young in such a case?" + +"My father was not three and twenty when he married--two years younger +than I am at this present hour--and yet the idea of matrimony has +never shaped itself in my mind. But you must not infer from anything +I have said that my father's has been an unhappy marriage. On the +contrary, he is devoted to my mother, and she to him. I cannot imagine +a better assorted couple. Each supplies the qualities wanting in the +other. She is all movement, impulse, and spontaneousness. He is calm +and meditative, with depths of thought and feeling which no one has +sounded. They are perfectly happy as husband and wife. But there is +a shade of melancholy that steals over my father in quiet, unoccupied +hours, which indicates a sorrow or a disappointment in the past. I have +taken it to mean an unhappy love-affair. I may be utterly wrong, and +the shadow may be cast by a disappointed ambition. It is not unlikely +that a man of powerful intellect and lymphatic temperament should feel +that he had wasted opportunities, and failed in life. It is quite easy +to imagine ambition without the energy to achieve." + +She made no comment upon this, but Allan could see in her eager +countenance that she was intensely interested. + +"Is your mother beautiful?" she asked timidly. + +It seemed a foolish and futile question; and it jarred upon that +serious thought of his parents which had been inspired by her previous +questioning. But, after all, it was a natural question for a woman to +ask, and he smiled as he answered-- + +"No, my mother is not beautiful. I am not guilty of treason as a son +if I confess that she is plain, since she herself would be the first +to take offence at any sophistication of the truth. She has never +set up for being other than she is. She has a fine countenance and +a fine figure, straight as a dart, with a waist which a girl might +acknowledge without a blush. She dresses with admirable taste, and +always looks well, after her own fashion, exclusive of beautiful +features or brilliant colouring. She is what women call stylish, and +men distinguished. I am as proud as I am fond of her." + +"Will she come to see you in your new home?" + +"Most assuredly my mother will pay me a visit before the summer is +over, and I shall be charmed to bring you and her together." + +"And your father? Will not he come?" + +"I don't know. He is very difficult to move. He is like the lichen +on the old stone walls at home. He takes no particular interest in +chairs and tables; he would care not a fig for my new surroundings. +Besides, he saw Beechhurst years ago, when the Admiral was building and +improving. He has no curiosity to bring him here; and as for his son, +he knows he has only to want me for me to be at his side." + +After this there came a silence. Certainly Mrs. Wornock was not gifted +as a conversationalist. She sat looking straight before her at the long +perspective of lawn and cypress, broad gravel walk, and narrow grass +plots, all verging to a point at which the old house rose square and +grey, crowned with cupola and bell. The peacocks strutted slowly along +the narrow lawn. The waters of a fountain flashed in the warm sunlight. +It was a garden that recalled Tivoli, or that old grave garden of the +Vatican, with its long level walks and prim flower-beds, in which +the Holy Father takes his restricted airing. In the Vatican pleasure +grounds there are peacocks and clipped hedges, and smooth greensward, +and formal cypress avenues, and quaint arbours; but the hum of Rome, +the echoes of the Papal Barrack, the rush of the Tiber are near; and +not even in that antique garden can there be this summer silence, +profound as in the enchanted isle where it seemeth always afternoon. + +"Tell me more about yourself, your childhood, your youth," Mrs. Wornock +asked suddenly, with an air of agitated impatience which took Allan by +surprise. + +Mrs. Mornington had prepared him for a certain eccentricity in the +lonely lady of Discombe; but the strangeness of her manner was even +more than he had expected. + +"There is very little to tell about my own life," he said. "I have +lived at home for the most part, except when I was at Eton and +Cambridge. My father helped me in all my studies. I never had any other +tutor except at the University. My home life was of the quietest. +Fendyke is twenty miles from Cambridge, but it seems at the end of the +world. The single line of rail that leads to it comes to a full stop. +The terminus stands in the midst of a Dutch landscape--level fields +divided by shallow dykes, a river so straight that it might as well +be a canal, water-mills, pollarded willows, broad clean roads, and +fine old Norman churches large enough for a city, no Sunday trains, +and not many on lawful days. A neat little town, with decent shops, +and comfortable inns, and a market which only awakens from a Pompeian +slumber for an hour or two on Fridays. A land of rest and plenty, +picturesque cottages and trim cottage gardens, an air of prosperity +which I believe is real. So much for our town and surroundings. For the +family mansion picture to yourself a long low house, built partly of +brick and partly of wood, with chimney-stacks that contain brick enough +for the building of respectable houses, and which have defied the gales +sweeping down from the Ural mountains--there is nothing, mark you, +between Fendyke and the Urals--ever since Queen Elizabeth was young +enough to pace a pavan." + +"You must be fond of an old house like that." + +"Yes, I am very fond of Fendyke. I even love the surrounding country, +though I can but wish Nature had not ironed the landscape with her +mammoth iron. She might have left us a few creases, a wrinkled meadow +here and there." + +"I have heard that people born in Norfolk and Suffolk have an innate +antipathy to hills." + +"That may be. Indeed, I have noticed in the East Anglians a kind of +stubborn pride in the flatness of their soil. But I have not that +perverted pride in ugliness, since I was not born in Suffolk." + +"Indeed!" + +"No. My father lived in Sussex--at Hayward's Heath--at the time of his +marriage, and for half a dozen years after my birth. Fendyke came to +him from his maternal grandfather, who left the estate to his daughter +and heiress, and to her son after her, who was to assume the name and +arms of Carew when he succeeded to the property. My father's name was +Beresford." + +There was no reply--no further questioning on Mrs. Wornock's part--and +for some minutes Allan abandoned himself to the dreamy silence of the +scene, content to watch the peacocks on the lawn, and to listen to the +splash of the fountains. + +Then suddenly the silence surprised him, and he turned to look at +his companion. Her head had fallen back against the wall of the +summer-house, her eyes were closed, and her face was white as death. +She was in a dead faint; and they were at least a quarter of a mile +from the house. + +The situation was awkward for Allan, though there was nothing in so +simple a matter as a fainting-fit to surprise him. He knew that there +are women who faint at the smallest provocation, in a crowded room, in +the sunshine, at church, anywhere. Here the sunshine was perhaps to +blame; that delicious pure sunlight in which he had been basking. + +He gave a long Australian cooe, long enough and loud enough to have +brought help in the wilderness, and assuredly calculated to attract +some gardener at work within call. Then he bethought himself of the +fountain, and ran to get some water in his hat. + +At the first dash of water, Mrs. Wornock opened her eyes, with a little +sobbing sigh, and looked at him as if wondering who and what he was. + +"I knew he would have answered my prayer," she murmured brokenly, +"spirit to spirit, ghost to ghost." + +It seemed a worse kind of faint than Allan had supposed, for now her +mind was wandering. + +"I fear the sun was too warm for you," he said, standing before her +in painful embarrassment, half expecting some indication of absolute +lunacy. + +"Yes, yes, it was the sun," she answered nervously. "The glare is so +strong this afternoon; and this summer-house is shadeless. I must go +back to the house. It was very foolish of me to faint. I am so sorry. I +hope you won't consider me a very silly person." + +"My dear Mrs. Wornock, I have never heard that a fainting-fit on a warm +summer afternoon is a sign of silliness." + +"No, it is a thing one cannot help, can one? But it must have been so +unpleasant for you. Ah, here is one of the gardeners," as a man came +hurrying towards her, with a scared countenance. "There is nothing the +matter, Henry. I am quite well now, Mr. Carew, and I can walk back to +the house. And so your father's original name was Beresford. Does he +call himself Beresford-Carew?" + +"Yes, in all important documents; but he is a man too careless of forms +to trouble himself much about the first name; and it has fallen into +disuse for the most part, Carew being the name of honour in our county. +He is known at Fendyke and in the neighbourhood simply as Squire Carew. +I sign myself Beresford-Carew sometimes, when I want to distinguish +myself from the numerous clan of Carews in Devonshire and elsewhere. +Will you take my arm to go back to the house?" + +"Yes"--timidly and faintly--"I shall be very glad of your support." + +She put her hand through his arm, and walked slowly and silently by his +side. Returning consciousness had brought back very little colour to +her face. It had still an almost unearthly pallor. She walked the whole +distance without uttering a word. A faint sigh fluttered her lips two +or three times during that slow promenade, and on her drooping lashes +Allan saw the glitter of a tear. For some reason or other she was +deeply moved; or it might be that her fainting-fits always took this +emotional form. He saw her safely seated on her own sofa, with footman +and maid in attendance upon her, before he took a brief adieu. + +"You'll come and see me again, I hope," she said, with a faint smile, +as she gave him her hand at parting. + +"I shall be most happy," he murmured, doubtful within himself whether +he would ever hazard a repetition of this agitating finale to an +afternoon call. + +To be interrogated about himself and his surroundings, with an eager +curiosity which was certainly startling, and then to find himself +_tête-à-tête_ with an unconscious fellow-creature was an ordeal +that few young men would care to repeat. + +When he described his visit next day to Mrs. Mornington, she only +shrugged her shoulders and said decisively, "Hysteria! Too much money, +too much leisure, and no respectable connections. If there is one woman +I pity more than another that woman is Mrs. Wornock." + +"If ever I call on her again it must be with you or with my mother," +said Allan. "I won't face her alone." + +Although he came to this decision about the lady, he found himself not +the less disposed to dwell upon her image during the days and weeks +that followed his afternoon at Discombe; and more than once he asked +himself whether there might not be some more cogent reason for her +fainting-fit than the sun's warmth or the sun's glare--whether that +deep interest which she had evinced in all he could tell her of home +and parents might not be founded on something more serious than an idle +woman's idle curiosity. + +Could it be that he had lighted upon some trace of that mystery in his +father's past life--that mystery which, without tangible evidence, he +had always imagined as the key-note to his father's character in later +years? She had fainted immediately upon his telling her his father's +former name. Was that a mere coincidence of time, or was the name the +cause of the fainting-fit? + + * * * * * + +Lady Emily arrived on a visit to her son while he was pondering +this unanswerable question about Mrs. Wornock, and he caught at the +opportunity. He hardly allowed his mother time to inspect his house and +gardens, and the small farm which supplied his larder, and to give her +opinion upon the furnishing of the rooms and the arrangement of the +flower-beds and lawns, before he suggested taking her to call upon his +neighbour at Discombe. + +"But why, Allan? why should I call upon this Mrs. Wornock, when I am a +stranger in the land?" argued his mother. "If there is any question of +calling, it is Mrs. Wornock who must call upon me." + +"Ah, but this lady is an exception to all rules, mother. She calls upon +hardly anybody, and she has begged me to go and see her, and I feel a +kind of hesitation in going alone--a second time." + +He stopped in sudden embarrassment. He did not wish to tell his mother +about the fainting-fit, though he had described the thing freely to +Mrs. Mornington. He had thought more seriously of the circumstance +since that conversation, and he was inclined to attach more importance +to it now than at that time. + +"I think you would be interested in Mrs. Wornock, mother," he urged, +after a pause, during which Lady Emily had been pacing the room from +window to wall with the idea of suggesting a bay to be thrown out +where there was now only a flat French casement. + +"Allan, you alarm me. I think you must be in love with this eccentric +widow. You told me she was very rich, didn't you? It might not be a bad +match for you." + +"Perhaps not, if Mrs. Wornock had any penchant for me; and if I wanted +a wife old enough to be my mother. Do you know that the lady has a son +as old as I am?" + +He reddened at the thought of that son, whose likeness to Beresford +Carew was startling enough to surprise Lady Emily, and might possibly +occasion unpleasant suspicions. And yet accidental likenesses are so +common in this world that it would be weak to be scared by such a +resemblance. + +Would he be wise in taking his mother to Discombe? Perhaps not. He had +made up his mind to take her there, wisely or foolishly. He wanted to +bring her plain common sense to bear upon Mrs. Wornock's fantastic +temperament. + +"My mother is the shrewdest woman I know," he told himself. "She will +read Mrs. Wornock's character much better than I can." + +Lady Emily was the soul of good nature, and was particularly free from +the trammels of conventionality; so, when she found her son had the +matter at heart, she waived all question of the caller and the called +upon, and allowed Allan to drive her to Discombe on the afternoon after +her arrival at Beechhurst; and the drive and the approach to the Manor +were very agreeable to her. + +"You are really prettier hereabouts than we are in Suffolk," she said +condescendingly; "but you have not our wide expanse of field and +meadow, our open horizon. Those high downs have a cramping effect on +your landscape--they narrow your outlook, and shut you in too much. +Your sunsets must be very poor, in a broken-up country like this." + +The weather was more sultry than on Allan's previous visit. Summer had +ripened, the roses were in bloom, and the last purple petal had fallen +in the rhododendron jungle through which they drove to the Manor House. + +Mrs. Wornock was at home. Vain for the footman to deny it, even had he +been so minded, for the deep-toned music of the organ was pealing along +the corridor. The chords which begin Beethoven's Funeral March for the +Burial of a Hero crashed out, solemnly and slowly, as Lady Emily and +her son approached the music-room; and when, at the opening of the +door, the player stopped suddenly, the silence was more startling than +the music had been. + +Startling, too, to see the fragile form of the player, and the +semi-transparent hands which had produced that volume of sound. + +"I had no idea you were so fine a musician, Mrs. Wornock," Lady Emily +said graciously, after the introduction had been got over, the lady of +Discombe standing before her timidly in the broad sunlight from the +open window, so fragile, so youthful-looking, so unlike the mistress +of a great house, and the chief personage in a rustic parish. "My son +was eloquent in your praise, but he forgot to tell me of your musical +talent." + +"I don't think I have much talent," answered Mrs. Wornock, +hesitatingly. "I am very fond of music--that is all." + +"There is a great deal in that ALL. I wish my love of music--and Allan +knows I prefer a good concert to any other form of entertainment--would +enable me to play as you do, for then I could take the place of the +stupidest organist in England at our parish church." + +Lady Emily was making conversation, seeing that Mrs. Wornock's lips +were mute and dry, as if she were absolutely speechless from fright. +A most extraordinary woman, thought Lady Emily, shy to a degree that +bordered on lunacy. + +The talk had all to be done by Allan and his mother, since Mrs. +Wornock's share in it was hardly more than monosyllabic. She assented +to everything they said--she contradicted herself over and over again +about the weather, and about the distinguishing features of the +surrounding country. She agreed with Lady Emily that the hills spoiled +the landscape; she assented to Allan's protestation that the hills +were the chief charm of the neighbourhood. She rang for tea, and when +the servants had brought tables and tray and tea-kettle, she sat as in +a dream for ever so long before she became conscious that the things +were there, and that she had a duty to perform. Then she filled the +cups with tremulous hands, and allowed Allan to help her through the +simplest details. + +Her obvious distress strengthened Allan's suspicions. There must be +some mystery behind all this embarrassment. Mrs. Wornock could hardly +behave in this way to every stranger who called upon her. Of all women +living no one was less calculated to inspire awe than Lady Emily Carew. +Good humour was writ large upon her open countenance. The milk of human +kindness gave softness to her speech. She was full of consideration for +others. + +Distracted by the music of the organ, Lady Emily had not even glanced +at the Millais portrait which faced her as she walked along the +corridor. It was, therefore, with unmixed astonishment that she +observed a photograph on an easel conspicuous on a distant table--a +photograph which she took to be the likeness of her son. + +"I see you have given Mrs. Wornock your photo, Allan," she said. "That +is more than you have done for me since you were at the University." + +"Go and look at the photo, mother, and you will see I have not been so +wanting in filial duty." + +Lady Emily rose and went over to the table in the furthermost window. + +"No, I see it is another face; but there is a wonderful look of you. +Pray who is this nice-looking young man, Mrs. Wornock? I may call him +nice-looking with a good grace, since he is not my son. His features +are more refined than Allan's. The modelling of the face is more +delicate." + +"That is my son's portrait," answered Mrs. Wornock, "and it is thought +a good likeness. He is like Mr. Carew, is he not? Almost startlingly +like; but the resemblance is less striking in the picture than in the +living face. It is in expression that the two faces are alike." + +"I begin to understand why you are interested in my son," said Lady +Emily, smiling down at the face on the easel. "The two young men might +be brothers. Pray how old is this young gentleman?" + +"He will be six and twenty in August." + +"And Allan was twenty-five last March. And is Mr. Wornock an only son, +like my Allan?" + +"Yes. I have only him. When he is away, I am quite alone--except for my +organ and piano. I try sometimes to think they are both alive." + +"What a pity you have no daughter! A place like this looks as if it +wanted a daughter. But you and I are in the same desolate condition. +Allan is all I have--and my white farm." + +"Mother, why not my white farm and Allan?" said her son laughingly. "If +you knew more of my mother, Mrs. Wornock, if you knew her in Suffolk, +you would be very likely to think the farm first and not second in her +dear love. Perhaps you, too, are interested in farming." + +Mrs. Wornock smiled a gentle negative, and gave a glance at the triple +keyboard yonder, which was eloquent of meaning. A glance which seemed +to ask, "Who could waste time upon cowhouse and poultry-yard when all +the master-spirits of harmony are offering their mysteries to the +faithful student?" + + * * * * * + +"Well, mother, how do you like the mistress of Discombe?" asked Allan, +as they drove homeward. + +"She is very refined--rather graceful--dreadfully shy," answered his +mother, musingly; "and I hope you won't be angry with me, Allan, if I +add that she seems to me half an idiot." + +"You saw her to-day at a disadvantage," said Allan, and then lapsed +into meditative silence. + +Had he not also seen this strange woman at a disadvantage when she +fainted at the mention of his father's name--the name his father +had borne in youth, not the name by which he was known now? Her +fainting-fit might have had no significance in his eyes if it had not +followed upon her eager questioning about his father. And whatever +suspicions had been excited by that first visit were intensified by +Mrs. Wornock's manner in the presence of Lady Emily. Such obvious +embarrassment--a shyness so much more marked than that with which she +had received him on his first visit--could hardly exist without a +deeper cause than solitary habits or nervous temperament. + +The likeness between Geoffrey Wornock and himself might have meant no +more than the likeness between Mr. Drummond and Sir Robert Peel; but +that likeness, taken in conjunction with Mrs. Wornock's extraordinary +interest in his father, and most noticeable embarrassment in receiving +his mother, might mean a great deal--might mean, indeed, that the cloud +upon his father's life was the shadow of a lifelong remorse, the dark +memory of sin and sorrow. It might be that within the years preceding +his marriage George Beresford had been involved in a guilty intrigue +with Mr. Wornock's young wife. + +To believe this was to think very badly of this gentle creature, who +used the advantages of wealth and position with such modest restraint, +whose only delight in life was in one of the most exalted of life's +pleasures. To believe this was to think Mrs. Wornock a false and +ungrateful wife to a generous husband; and it was to believe George +Beresford a vulgar seducer. + +If there is one fallacy to which the non-legal mind is more prone +than another it is its belief in its power to estimate the value of +circumstantial evidence. Allan Carew tried his father and Mrs. Wornock +by the evidence of circumstances, and he found them guilty. + +"My mother shall never cross that woman's threshold again!" he decided, +angry with himself for having taken Lady Emily to Discombe. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + MORE NEW-COMERS. + + +Allan recalled the story which Mrs. Mornington had told him of +Mr. Wornock's marriage, and the mysterious birth of his son and +heir--mysterious in that it was a strange thing for an English +gentleman with a fine estate to carry off his wife to a foreign country +before the birth of her first child, and to remain an exile from home +and property until his son was three years old. Mystery of some kind--a +secret sorrow or a secret shame--must have been at the root of conduct +so unusual; and might not that secret include the story of the young +wife's sin? + +Allan Carew had heard of husbands so beneficent as to forgive that sin +which to the mind of the average man lies beyond reach of pardon; +husbands who have taken back runaway wives, and set the fallen idol +once again in the temple of home-life; husbands who, knowing themselves +old, ugly, and unlovable, have palliated and pardoned the passionate +impulses of undisciplined girlhood, the sin in which there has been +more of romantic folly than of profligate inclination; husbands who +have asked themselves whether _they_ were not the darker sinners +in having possessed themselves of creatures so lovely and so frail, so +unadapted for a passionless, workaday union with grey hairs and old +age. It might be, Allan thought, that Mr. Wornock was one of these, +and that he had conveyed his young wife away from the scene of her sin +and the influence of her betrayer, and had hidden her shame and his +dishonour in that quiet valley among the snow-peaks and the glaciers. +But if Mrs. Wornock had so sinned in the early days of her married life +there must be people at Matcham who would remember the lover's presence +at Discombe, even although his real character had been undiscovered by +the searching eyes of village censors. + +Lady Emily went back to her husband and her farm after a week at +Beechhurst--a pleasant and busy week, in which the mother's experience +and good sense had been brought to bear upon all the details of the +son's household and domestic possessions--plate and linen, glass and +china, books and ornaments. + +"If it were not for your smoking-room, or drawing-room, or whatever you +may be pleased to call it, your house would be obviously Philistine," +said Lady Emily; "but that is a really fine room, and there are some +pretty things in it." + +"Some pretty things? Yes, there are a few," answered Allan, laughing +at her tone of patronage. "I was offered five hundred pounds for that +piece of tapestry which hangs in front of the conservatory doors by +a man who thinks himself a judge of such things. The room is full of +treasures from the Summer Palace." + +"My brother must have looted in a most audacious manner!" + +"No, he bought the things afterwards--mostly from the French sailors, +who were licensed to steal or destroy. I believe the bronzes, and +porcelain, and ivories, and embroideries that the admiral bought for +a few hundreds are worth as many thousands. But there they are, and I +must be very hard up before I disturb them." + + * * * * * + +Allan called upon Mrs. Mornington the day after his mother's departure, +and was lucky enough to find that lady at home and alone. + +She was sitting in her verandah, sewing, with a large basket of plain +work on the ground beside her, and her scissors and other implements on +a wicker-table in front of her. She had a trellis covered with climbing +roses for a background, and a sunny lawn, a sunk fence, and a paddock +dotted with Jersey cows for her outlook. + +"I'm at work for the Guild," she said, apologetically, after shaking +hands with Allan, and she went on herring-boning a flannel waistcoat; +a waistcoat of that stout flannel which is supposed to have a kind of +affinity with the skin of the agricultural labourer, although it can be +worn comfortably by no other class. + +Allan knew nothing about the Guild, but was accustomed to see Mrs. +Mornington's superfluous energy expending itself in some kind of +needlework. He seated himself in the comfortable armchair to which she +invited him, and prepared himself for a long talk. + +Of course he could not begin at once upon the subject of Mrs. Wornock. +That would have to be introduced casually. He talked about his mother, +and her regret at not having been able to stay till the following week, +when Mrs. Mornington was to give a small dance, to which Lady Emily and +her son had been invited. + +"She can't be as sorry as I am, or she'd have managed to stay," replied +Mrs. Mornington, in her blunt style. + +"She has my father to think of. She is never long away from him." + +"Why don't he come too?" + +"I hope to get him for a week or so before the summer is over. He +promises to come and look at my surroundings; but he is very much of a +recluse. He lives in his library." + +"I dare say he will contrive to come when Philip and I are away on our +August holiday. We always take a month on the Continent just to keep +us in touch with the outside world, and to remind us that the earth +doesn't end on the other side of Salisbury. Do you know why I am giving +this dance?" + +"I am sure it is from a conscientious motive--to pay your debts. I find +that most ladies' hospitalities are founded upon a system of exchange +and barter, 'cutlet for cutlet,' as Lady Londonderry called it." + +"It is very rude of you to say that--as if women had no real +hospitality! No, Mr. Carew, I owe no one anything in the dancing line; +and I am not making one evening party pay for a whole year's dinners. +I have known that done, I assure you. No, I am turning my house out +of windows, and making poor Phil utterly miserable, for the sake of a +certain young half-French niece of mine, who is coming to live in this +neighbourhood with my brother Bob, her thoroughly English father." + +"You mean General Vincent? Some one told me that he was related to you." + +"Related? I should think he was related to me! He used to pull my +hair--we wore long plaits in those days, don't you know--with a +ferocity only possible in an elder brother. Poor dear old Bob! I am +monstrously pleased at the idea of having him near me in our old +age. He has been tossed and beaten about the world for the last +thirty years, at home and abroad, and now he is to enjoy enforced +leisure, and the noble income which our country bestows upon a retired +lieutenant-general. He has a little money of his own, fortunately, and +a little more from his wife; so he will be able to live comfortably at +Marsh House--in a very quiet, unpretentious way, _bien entendu_." + +"He is a widower, I conclude?" + +"Yes; his pretty French wife died fifteen years ago. He met her in +Canada, but she was a Parisian _pur sang_, and of a very good +family. She had gone to Montreal with her mother, to visit some +relations--uncle, cousin, or what-not. It was a very happy marriage, +and Suzette is a very charming girl. She is a Papist"--with a faint +sigh--"which, of course, is a pity. But even in spite of that, she is a +very sweet girl." + +"Worthy that you should turn your house out of window in order to +introduce her to the neighbourhood in the pleasantest possible manner," +said Allan. "My greenhouse is only a bachelor's idea of glass, but any +flowers there shall be sent to add to your decorations--at least, if +you don't despise such poor aid." + +"How truly nice of you! Every flower will be useful. I want to make the +rooms pretty, since nothing can make them spacious. Ah, if I had only +the Manor House now--those noble rooms of which Mrs. Wornock makes so +little use!" + +Allan seized his opportunity. + +"Mrs. Wornock is the most singular woman I ever met!" he exclaimed +quickly, lest Mrs. Mornington should diverge to another subject. "I +took my mother to call upon her----" + +"Had she called upon Lady Emily?" asked Mrs. Mornington, surprised. + +"No. It was altogether out of order, my mother told me; but I rather +insisted upon her going to Discombe. I wanted her to see Mrs. Wornock; +and I must say that lady's manner was calculated to excite wonder +rather than admiration. I never saw a woman of mature years receive +a visitor so awkwardly. Her shyness would have been remarkable in a +bread-and-butter miss just escaped from the schoolroom." + +"That is so like Mrs. Wornock. The ways of society are a foreign +language to her. Had you taken her a German organist with long hair, +or a spiritualist, or an esoteric Buddhist, she would have received him +with open arms--she would have been _simpatica_ to the highest +degree, and would have impressed him with the idea of a sensitive +nature and a temperament akin to genius, while I dare say Lady Emily +thought her a fool." + +"She certainly did not give the lady credit for superior intelligence." + +"Of course not. She has not even average intelligence in the affairs +of social life. She has lived all these years at Discombe--she +might be in touch with some of the best people in the county--and +she has learnt nothing, except to play the organ. I believe she has +toiled unremittingly at _that_," concluded Mrs. Mornington, +contemptuously. + +"I have half forgotten what you told me about her in the first +instance. I think you spoke of a mystery in her early life." + +"The only mystery was that old Wornock should have married her, and +that he should have told us nothing about her belongings. Had she been +a lady, we must have heard something about her people in the last five +and twenty years; and yet there is a refinement about her which makes +me think she could not have sprung from the gutter." + +"The gutter! No, indeed! She has an air of exceptional refinement. +I should take her to be the offspring of an effete race--a +crystallization. In her early married life, when she and Mr. Wornock +were living together at Discombe, she had friends, I presume. They must +have had visitors occasionally--a house-party?" + +"Not they. You must remember that it was not more than six months after +Mr. Wornock brought his young wife home when he took her away again----" + +"But in the interim," interrupted Allan, eagerly, "they must have had +visitors in the house! He would be proud to exhibit his pretty young +wife. There must have been men-friends of his coming and going during +that time." + +"I think not. He was a dry chip; and I don't think he had made many +friends in the forty years he had reigned at Discombe. I never heard +of any one staying in the house, either at that time or previously. +He was hospitable in a casual way to the neighbourhood while he was +a bachelor--gave a hunt breakfast every winter, and a good many +dinners--but he was not a man to make friends. He was an ardent +politician and an ardent Radical, and would have quarrelled with any +one who wasn't of his way of thinking." + +A blank here. No hint of a too-frequent visitor, of one figure standing +out against the quiet background of home-life, of one person whose +coming and going had been marked enough to attract attention. + +Allan breathed more freely. It was no prurient curiosity which had led +him to pry into the secrets of the past. He wanted to know the truth; +yet it would have been agony to him to discover anything that would +lessen his reverent admiration for his father, or his belief in his +father's honour and high principle. Sitting idle in the sunshine beside +Mrs. Mornington, he tried to think that there might be nothing more +than eccentricity in Mrs. Wornock's conduct, no indication of a dark +secret in her fainting-fit, or in her embarrassed manner during his +mother's visit. + +Mrs. Mornington went back to the subject of her dance--her niece, her +brother, his income, his establishment, and the how much or how little +he could afford to spend. She lamented the dearth of dancing men. + +"Both my boys are away," she said, "Luke with his regiment in Burmah, +Fred in London. _He_ might run down for the evening if he liked; +but you know what young men are. Well, perhaps you are more civilized +than Frederick. He pretends to hate dancing-parties; yet, when we spent +a winter at Cannes, he was at a ball nearly every night. He despises my +poor little dance." + +"I am sure your little dance will be delightful." + +"I hope it will not be dull. I am straining every nerve to make it a +success. I shall have the house full of nice young people, and I shall +have decent music. Only four men, but they will be very good men, and +four will make quite enough noise in my poor little rooms." + +Mrs. Mornington's "poor little rooms" included a drawing-room thirty +feet long, opening into a spacious conservatory. There was a wide bay +at the end of the room which would accommodate the grand piano and +the four musicians. Allan had to make a tour of inspection with the +mistress of the house before he left, and to express his approval of +her arrangements. + +"There will be a comfortable old-fashioned sit-down supper," she said +finally. "I have asked a good many middle-aged people, and there will +be nothing for _them_ to do but eat." + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + LIKE THE MOTH TO THE FLAME. + + +A small dance in a bright airy country house on a balmy summer evening +is about as pleasant a form of entertainment as can be offered to the +youthful mind not satiated by metropolitan entertainments, by balls +in Park Lane, where the flowers alone cost the price of an elderly +spinster's annuity, Bachelors' balls, and Guards' balls, American balls +in Carlton Gardens, patrician balls in grand old London houses, built +in the days when rank was as much apart from the herd and the newly +rich as royalty; when rank and royalty moved hand-in-hand on a plateau +of privilege and splendour as high above the commonality as Madrid is +above the sea. + +Matcham, which gave itself the airs common to all village communities, +pretended to make very light of Mrs. Mornington's dance; a summer +dance, when everybody worth meeting was, or ought to be, in London. +Happily for Mrs. Mornington, the inhabitants of Matcham were a +stay-at-home race--who had neither money nor enterprise for much +gadding. To go to Swanage or Budleigh Salterton for a month or so while +the leaves were falling was the boldest flight that Matcham people +cared about. + +There was always so much to do at home--golf, tennis, shooting, +hunting, falconry, fishing for the enthusiasts of rod and line, and +one's garden and stable all the year round, needing the eye of master +and mistress. Except for the absence of the great shipbuilder's family, +at Hillerby Height, three miles on the other side of Salisbury, the +circle of Matcham society was complete, and the answers to Mrs. +Mornington's cards were all acceptances. + +Allan went cheerfully enough to the party, but he did not go very +early, and he had something of the feeling which most young men +entertain, or affect, about dances, the feeling that he was sacrificing +himself at the shrine of friendship. He danced well, and he did not +dislike dancing--liked it, indeed, when blest with a good partner; but +it is not often that a young man can escape the chances of partners +that are not altogether good, and Allan felt very doubtful as to the +dancing capacities of Matcham. Those healthy, out-of-door young women, +who went to about half a dozen dances in a year, would hardly waltz +well enough to make waltzing anything but toil and weariness. + +He approached the Grove in that state of placid indifference with +which a man generally goes to meet his destiny. He looks back in the +after-time, and remembers that equable frame of mind, hoping nothing, +expecting nothing, content with his lot in life, and in no wise eager +to question or forestall fate-- + + "Tu ne quæsieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi, + Finem di dederint." + +The Grove was a long, low stuccoed house, built at the beginning of +the century, a house spread over a considerable extent of ground. +To-night--with lights and flowers, and all the doors and windows +open to the summer gloom, and lace draperies where doors had been, +and white-gowned girls moving to and fro, and the sound of a Strauss +waltz mixing with the voices of the idlers sitting in the hall--Mrs. +Mornington's house was as pretty as a fairy palace, and as much unlike +itself in its workaday guise. + +Mrs. Mornington, in black lace and diamonds, with a black ostrich fan, +loomed with commanding bulk on the threshold of the dancing-room. She +wanted no steward, no master of the ceremonies to help her. Alone she +did it! Mr. Mornington walked about and pretended to be useful; but it +was Mrs. Mornington who did everything. She received the guests, she +introduced the few strange young men to the many local young ladies. As +for the local young men, whom she had seen grow up from sailor suits +and mud-pies to pink coats which marked them members of the South Sarum +Hunt, her dominion over these was absolute. She drove them about with +threatening movements of her large black fan. She would not allow them +rest or respite, would not let them hang together in corners to discuss +the hunters they were summering, or the hunters they were thinking of +buying, or the probable changes in the management of the kennels, or +any other subject dear to the minds of rustic youth. + +"You have come here to dance, Billy Walcott, and not to talk of those +wretched old screws of yours," said Mrs. Mornington. "You can have +that all out in the saddle-room to-morrow when you are smoking with +your grooms. Let me look at your programme, Sidney. Not half full, I +declare. Now go over to Miss Rycroft this instant, and engage her for +the next waltz." + +"Come now, Mrs. Mornington, that's rather too rough on me. A man mayn't +marry his grandmother; and surely there's some kind of law to forbid +his dancing with a woman who looks like his great-aunt." + +"Sidney, love, to oblige me. The dear old thing has gone to the expense +of a new frock----" + +"She might have bought a little more stuff while she was about it," +murmured the youth. + +"On purpose for my dance, and _somebody_ must give her a waltz. +Come, boys, who shall it be?" + +"Let's go into the garden and toss up," said Sidney Heathfield; but +the other youths protested that they were engaged for every dance, and +Sidney, who had come late, and whose programme was only half full, had +to submit. + +"I'll do it, Mrs. Mornington," he said, with serio-comic resignation, +"on condition you get me a dance with Miss Vincent afterwards." + +"If I do, she will have to cheat somebody else. Her programme was +full a quarter of an hour after she came into the room. My niece is a +success." + +Young Heathfield made his way to a distant bench, where an elderly +young lady of expansive figure, set off by a pink-gauze frock, had been +sitting for an hour and a half, smiling blandly upon her friends and +acquaintance, with a growing sense of despair. + +What had come over the young men of the present generation, when good +dancers were allowed to sit partnerless and forlorn? It all came of the +absence of men of standing and mature age at evening parties. Sensible +men were so disgusted by the slang and boldness of chits just escaped +from the schoolroom that they held themselves aloof, and ball-rooms +were given over to boys and girls, and to romping galops and kitchen +lancers. + +Here was one sensible boy at least, thought poor Miss Rycroft, as +Sidney Heathfield, tall, slim, studiously correct, stood looking +solemnly down upon her, asking for the next waltz. Little did Miss +Rycroft dream of the pressure which had been put upon the youth by +yonder matron, whose voice was now heard loud and lively on the other +side of the lace curtains. + +Mrs. Mornington was talking to Allan. + +"How horribly late you are, Mr. Carew. You don't deserve to find one +nice girl disengaged." + +"Even if I don't, I know one nice woman with whom I would as soon sit +and talk common sense as dance with the prettiest girl in Matcham." + +"If you mean me," said Mrs. Mornington, "there will be no commonsense +talk for you and me to-night. I have all these young men to keep in +order. Now, Billy," suddenly attacking Mr. Walcott, who was talking +mysteriously to a bosom friend about some one or something that was +seven off, with capped hocks, but a splendid lepper, "Billy, haven't I +told you that you were here to dance, not to talk stables? There's Miss +Forlander, the girl from Torquay, who plays golf so well, sitting like +a statue next Mrs. Paddington Brown." + +"Oh, Mrs. Mornington," groaned the youth, as he strolled off, "what a +life you lead us! I hope you don't call this hospitality." + +"Am I not at least to be introduced to Miss Vincent, the heroine of the +evening?" asked Allan. + +"The heroine of the evening is behaving very badly," said Mrs. +Mornington. "I don't think I'll ever give a summer dance again. I wish +it had rained cats and dogs. Look at the dancing-room, half empty. +Those young people are all meandering about the garden, picking my +finest roses, I dare say, just to tear them to pieces in the game of +'he loves me, loves me not.'" + +"What better use could be made of a garden and roses? As long as you +have only the true lovers, and no Mephistopheles or Martha, your garden +is another Eden. But I must insist upon being introduced to Miss +Vincent before the evening is over." + +"I will do my best," said Mrs. Mornington, and then in a lower voice +she told him that she had ordered her niece to keep a late number open +for his name. "She is a very nice girl, and I think you are a nice +young man, and I should like you to know each other," concluded the +lady with her bluff straightforwardness. + +Mr. Mornington and an elderly stranger, with iron-grey hair and +iron-grey moustache, came across the hall at this moment. + +"Ah, here is my brother!" cried Mrs. Mornington. "Robert, I want +to introduce Mr. Carew to you. He is a new neighbour, but a great +favourite of mine." + +Allan stopped in the hall for about a quarter of an hour talking to +General Vincent and Mr. Mornington, and then he, too, was called to +order by his hostess, and was marched into the dancing-room to be +introduced to a Dresden-china young lady, pink and white and blue-eyed, +like Saxony porcelain, who had been brought by somebody, and who was a +stranger in the land. + +He waltzed with this young creature, who was pretty and daintily +dressed, and who asked him various questions about Salisbury Cathedral +and Stonehenge, evidently with the idea that she was adapting her +conversation to the locality. When the dance was over, she refused +his offer of an ice, and suggested a turn in the garden; so Allan +found himself among the meanderers under the moonlit sky; but there +was no plucking of roses or murmuring of "Loves me not, loves me, +loves me not," no thought of Gretchen's impassioned love-dream as the +Dresden-china young lady and he promenaded solemnly up and down the +broad gravel terrace in front of the open windows, still conversing +sagely about Salisbury Cathedral and the decoration of the Chapter +House. + +While parading slowly up and down, Allan found his attention wandering +every now and then from the young lady at his side to another young +lady who passed and repassed with an elderly cavalier. A tall, slim +young lady, with black hair and eyes, a pale brunette complexion, and +an elegant simplicity of dress and _chevelure_ which Allan at +once recognized as Parisian. No English girl, he thought, ever had +that air of being more plainly dressed than other girls, and yet more +distinguished and fashionable. He had seen no frock like this girl's +frock, but he felt assured that she was dressed in that Parisian +fashion which is said to antedate London fashion by a twelvemonth. + +She was in white from head to foot, and her gown was made of some +dead-white fabric which combined the solidity of satin with the soft +suppleness of gauze. The bodice was rather short-waisted, and the young +lady wore a broad satin belt clasped with a diamond buckle, which +flashed with many coloured gleams in the moonlight, as she passed +to and fro; and whereas most young women at that time displayed a +prodigious length of arm broken only by a narrow shoulder-strap, this +young lady wore large puffed sleeves which recalled the portraits of +Sir Thomas Lawrence. The large puffed sleeves became common enough a +year later, but they were unknown in Wiltshire when Mrs. Mornington +gave her dance. The damsel's silky black hair was coiled with artistic +simplicity at the back of the prettily shaped head, while a cloud of +little careless curls clustered above the broad, intelligent forehead. + +She was talking gaily with her companion, Colonel Fordingbridge, a +retired engineer, settled for some fifteen years in the outskirts of +Matcham, and an intimate friend of Mr. Mornington's. He was telling +her about the neighbourhood, holding it up to contempt and ridicule +in a good-natured way which implied that, after all, it was the best +neighbourhood in the world. + +"It suits an old fellow like me," Allan heard him say; "plenty of sport +of a mildish order. Huntin', fishin', shootin', hawkin', and golf." + +"Hawking!" cried the young lady. "Do you really mean that? I thought +there were no more hawks left in the world. Why, it sounds like the +Middle Ages." + +"Yes, and I'm afraid you'll say it looks like the Middle Ages when you +see a flight on the hills near Matcham. The members of the Falconry +Club in this neighbourhood are not all boys." + +"But the hawks!" exclaimed she. "Where--where can one see them?" + +"Have you really hawks?" inquired Allan's young lady, who had exhausted +the Chapter House, and who caught eagerly at another local subject. +"How utterly delightful! Do you go out with them very often?" + +"I blush to admit that I have not even seen them, though I know there +are such birds kept in the neighbourhood. I have even been invited +to become a member of the society, and am seriously thinking about +offering myself for election." + +Seriously thinking since two minutes ago, be it understood, for until +he caught that speech from the unknown young lady he had hardly given +falconry a thought. + +She and her companion had disappeared when he and his porcelain lady +turned at the end of the terrace. + +"Do you know that girl who was talking about the hawks?" he asked. + +"Yes, I have been introduced to her. She is the girl of the house." + +"I am afraid you are missing a dance," said Allan, with grave concern. +"We had better go in, had we not?" + +"Yes, I fear I am behaving badly to somebody; but it is so much nicer +here than in those hot rooms." + +"Infinitely preferable; but one has a duty to one's neighbour." + +They met a youth in quest of the porcelain girl. + +"Oh, Miss Mercer, how could you desert me so long? Our waltz is half +over!" + +Allan breathed more freely, having handed over Miss Mercer. He made +his way quickly to the hall where Mrs. Mornington was still on +guard, receiving the latest comers, sending the first batch into the +supper-room, and dictating to everybody. + +"I shall not leave your elbow till you have introduced me to Miss +Vincent," he said, planting himself near his hostess. + +"If you don't take care, you will have to give me some supper," replied +she, "I am beginning to feel sinking. And I think it would be a good +plan for me to sup early in order to see that things are as they should +be." + +Allan's heart also began to sink. He knew what it meant to take a +matron in to supper; the leisurely discussion of salmon and cutlets, +the half-bottle of champagne, the gossip, lasting half an hour at the +least. And while he was ministering to Mrs. Mornington what chance +would he have of becoming acquainted with Mrs. Mornington's niece? + +"I should be proud to be so honoured; but think how many persons of +greater age and dignity you will offend. Colonel Fordingbridge, for +instance, such an old friend." + +"Colonel Fordingbridge has just gone in with my niece." + +"Oh, in that case, let me have the honour," exclaimed Allan eagerly, +almost dragging Mrs. Mornington towards the supper-room. "I should not +like to have offended dear old Fordingbridge." + +"We may get seats at their table, perhaps. I told Suzette to go to one +of the cosy little tables at the end of the room." + +Suzette! what a coquettish, enchanting name! He pushed past the long +table where two rows of people were talking, laughing, gobbling, as +if they never dined and had hardly tasted food for a week. He pushed +on to the end of the room where, on each side of the fireplace, now a +mass of golden lilies and palms, Mrs. Mornington had found space for a +small round table--a table which just held four people snugly, if not +commodiously. + +One of these tables had been made to accommodate six; the other had +just been left by the first batch of supper-eaters. Miss Vincent and +Colonel Fordingbridge were standing near while a servant re-arranged +the table. + +"That's lucky," said Mrs. Mornington. "Suzette, I want to introduce my +friend Mr. Carew to you--Mr. Carew--Miss Vincent. And after supper he +can take you to your father, whom I haven't seen for the last hour." + +"I am afraid he has gone home," replied the young lady, after +smilingly accepting the introduction. "I heard him ask Mrs. +Fordingbridge to take care of me if he should feel tired and be obliged +to go home. He can't bear being up late at night." + +"No wonder, when he is out and about at daybreak!" + +"The mornings are so nice," said Suzette. + +"Yes, for people like you, who can do without sleep; people who have +quicksilver in their veins." + +"One learns to be fond of the early morning in India," explained +Suzette. + +"Because every other part of the day is intolerable," said Colonel +Fordingbridge. + +They were seated by this time, and Mrs. Mornington was sipping her +first glass of champagne with an air of supreme content, while Allan +helped her to lobster mayonnaise. Suzette was on his other side; and +even while ministering to the elder lady his looks and his thoughts +were on the younger. + +How pretty she was, and how interesting. It seemed to him that he had +never cared for English beauty; the commonplace pinkness and whiteness, +chubby cheeks, blunt noses, cherry lips. Those delicate features, +that pale dark skin, those brilliant dark eyes and small white teeth +flashing upon him now and then as she smiled, with the most bewitching +mouth--a mouth that could express volumes in a smile, or by a pouting +movement of the flexible lips. + +Allan and she were good friends in about five minutes. He was +questioning and she answering. Surely, surely she did not like India as +well as England--a life of exile--a life under torrid skies? Surely, +surely, yes. There were a hundred things that she loved in India; those +three years of her life in the North-West Provinces had been years in +fairyland. + +"It must have been because you were worshipped," he said. "You lived +upon adulation. I'm afraid when a young lady is happy in India, it +means that she is not altogether innocent of vanity." + +"It is very unkind of you to say that. How sorry you must feel when I +tell you that the happiest half-year I spent in India was when father +was road-making, and the only other officer in camp was a fat, married +major--an immense major, as big as this table." + +"And you were happy! How?" + +"In all manner of ways; riding, rambling, botanizing, sketching, and +looking after father." + +"My niece is a Miss Crichton. She has all the accomplishments," said +Mrs. Mornington. + +"Oh, aunt! that is a dreadful character to give me. It means that I do +nothing well!" + +Allan had asked her for a dance, and there had been an examination of +her programme, which showed only one blank. + +"Auntie told me to keep that waltz," she said. "I don't know why." + +"I do. It was kept for me. I am the favoured one." + +"But why?" she asked naïvely. "Why you more than any one else?" + +"Who can say? Will you call me vain if I tell you that I think I am a +favourite with your aunt?" + +She looked at him laughingly, with a glance that asked a question. + +"You don't see any reason why I should be preferred," said Allan, +interpreting her look; "but remember there never is any reason for such +preferences. Clever women are full of prejudices." + +He could imagine a reason which he would not have had Suzette suspect +for worlds. Perhaps among the available young men in Mrs. Mornington's +circle he was the best placed, with an ample income in the present, and +an estate that must be his in the future, the best placed of all except +the young master of Discombe Manor; and the Lord of Discombe was away, +while he, Allan, was on the spot. + +The thought of Geoffrey Wornock suggested a question. They had left the +little table to Mrs. Mornington and Colonel Fordingbridge, who were +able to take care of each other. Allan and Miss Vincent were going to +the dancing-room, not by the nearest way, but through a French window +into the garden. + +"Shall we take a little turn before we go back to the house?" + +"I should like it of all things." + +"And you are not afraid of catching cold?" + +"On such a night as this? Why, in the hills I lived out-of-doors!" + +"You have been at Matcham before, I suppose!" + +"Yes, father and I stayed here with auntie once upon a time." + +"Long ago?" + +"Ages ago, when I wore short petticoats and wasn't allowed late dinner." + +"Heartless tyranny!" + +"Wasn't it? I didn't know what to do with myself in the long summer +evenings. I used to roam about this garden till I was tired, and then +I would go and look in at the dining-room window where they were all +sitting at dessert, and auntie would wave me away, 'Go and play, +child.' Play, indeed! Even the gardeners had gone home, and the dogs +were shut up for the night. I was actually glad when it was nine +o'clock and bedtime." + +"Poor victim of middle-aged egotism." + +"Dear auntie! She is so good! But people don't understand children. +They forget what their own feelings were when they were little." + +"Alas, yes! A child is as great a mystery to me to-day as if I had been +born at one and twenty. I can't even understand or interest myself in +a lad of fifteen. He seems such an incongruous, unnecessary creature, +stupid, lumbering, in everybody's way. I can't realize the fact that he +will ever get any better. He is there, complete in himself, a being of +a race apart. I should feel insulted if any one were to tell me I had +ever been like him." + +"How true that is!" assented Suzette, gaily. "I have felt just the same +about girls. I only began to wear my hair in a knot three years ago, +and yet there seems hardly one point of union between me and a girl +with her hair down her back. I have got beyond her, as somebody says. +How sad that one should always be getting beyond things! Father detests +India--talks only of the climate--while to me it was all enchantment. +Perhaps if I were to go back to the East, a few years hence, I should +hate it." + +"Very likely. Going back is always a mistake." + +There was nothing exalted or out of the common in their talk, but at +least there was sympathy in it all, and they were telling each other +their thoughts as freely as if they had been friends of long years. It +was very different from being obliged to talk of Salisbury Cathedral, +and theorize on the history of Stonehenge. And then there was the +glamour of the garden and the moonlight; the mysterious light and shade +of shrubbery walks; the blackness of the cedars that spread a deeper +dark across the lawn. Mrs. Mornington had taken care to choose a night +when the midsummer moon should be at the full, and she had abstained +from cockneyfying the garden with artificial light, from those fairy +lamps or Chinese lanterns which are well enough within the narrow +limits of a suburban garden, but which could only vulgarize grounds +that had something of forestial beauty. + +"I am glad you are almost a stranger to Matcham, Miss Vincent," said +Allan, after the first brief pause in their talk. + +"Why?" + +"Because it is such a pleasure to meet some one who does not know +Geoffrey Wornock." + +"And pray who is Geoffrey Wornock?" + +"Ah, how delightful, how refreshing it is to hear that question! Miss +Vincent, I am your devoted friend from this moment. Your friend, did I +say? I am your slave--command my allegiance in everything." + +"Please be tranquil. What does it all mean?" + +"Oh, forgive me! Know then that hitherto everybody I have met in this +place has greeted me by an expression of surprise at my resemblance +to one Geoffrey Wornock--happily now absent with his regiment in the +East. Nobody has taken any interest in me except on the score of +this likeness to the absent Wornock. My face has been criticized, my +features descanted upon one by one in my hearing. I have been informed +that it is in this or that feature, in this or that expression, the +likeness consists, while I naturally don't care twopence about the +likeness, or about Wornock. And to meet some one who doesn't know +my double, who will accept me for what I am individually!--oh, Miss +Vincent, we ought to be friends. Say that we may be friends." + +"Please don't rush on in such a headlong fashion. You talk like the +girls at the convent, who wanted me to swear eternal friendship in the +first half-hour; and perhaps turned out to be very disagreeable girls +when one came to know them." + +"I hope I shall not turn out disagreeable." + +"I did not mean to be rude; but friendship is a serious thing. At +present I have no friend except father, and two girls with whom I have +kept up a correspondence since I left the Sacré Cœur. One lives at +Bournemouth and the other in Paris, so our friendship is dependent on +the post. I think we ought to go back to the dancing-room now. I have +to report myself to Mrs. Fordingbridge, and not to keep her later than +she may wish to stay." + +Allan felt that he had been talking like a fool; that he had presumed +on the young lady's unconventional manner. She had talked to him +brightly and unrestrainedly; and he had been pushing and impertinent. +The moonlight, the garden, the pleasure of talking to a bright +vivacious girl had made him forget the respect due to the acquaintance +of an hour. + +He was silent on the way back to the ballroom, silent and abashed; but +five minutes afterwards he was waltzing with Suzette, who was assuredly +the best waltzer of all that evening's partners, and he felt that he +was treading on air. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + "O THE RARE SPRING-TIME!" + + +Allan called at the Grove two days after the dance--called at the +friendly hour when there was a certainty of afternoon tea, if Mrs. +Mornington were at home; and when he thought it likely that Miss +Vincent would be with her aunt. + +"She will almost live at the Grove," he thought, as he walked towards +that comfortable mansion, which was nearly a mile from Beechhurst. +"Marsh House is so near. There is a path across the meadows by which +she can walk in dry weather. A girl living alone with her father will +naturally turn to her aunt for companionship, will take counsel with +her upon all household affairs, and will run in and out every day." + +It was a disappointment, after having made up his mind in this way, to +see no sign of Suzette's presence in the drawing-room at the Grove. +Mrs. Mornington was sitting in the verandah with her inevitable +work-basket, just as he had found her a fortnight before, when her +brother's advent at Marsh House and the dance at the Grove were still +in the future. + +She received him with her accustomed cordiality, but she did not ask +him what he thought of her niece, though he was dying to be questioned. +An unwonted shyness prevented his beginning the subject. He sat meekly +sustaining a conversation about the parish, the wrongs and rights of +the last clerical squabble, till his patience could hold out no longer. + +"I hope General Vincent likes Matcham," he said at last, not daring to +touch nearer to the subject which absorbed his thoughts. + +"Oh yes, _he_ likes the place well enough. He has lived his life, +and can amuse himself with his poultry-yard, and will potter about +with the hounds now and then when the cub-hunting begins. But I don't +know how it will suit _her_." + +"You think Miss Vincent would prefer a livelier place?" + +"Of course she would prefer it. The question is, will she put up with +this? She has never lived in an English village, though she has lived +in out-of-the-way places in India; but, then, that was camp life, +adventure, the sort of thing a girl likes. Her father idolizes her, +and has taken her about everywhere with him since she left the Sacré +Cœur at fourteen years of age. She has lived at Plymouth, at York, at +Lucknow. She has had enough adulation to turn a wiser head than hers." + +"And yet--so far as a man may venture to judge within the compass of +an hour--I don't think her head has been turned," said Allan, growing +bolder. + +"That's as may be. She has a clever little way of seeming wiser +than she is. The nuns gave her that wise air, I think. They have +a wonderfully refining effect upon their pupils. Do you think her +good-looking?" + +"Good-looking is an odious epithet to apply to such a girl. She is +exquisitely pretty." + +"I'm glad you admire her. Yes, it is a dainty kind of prettiness, ain't +it? Exquisite is far too strong a word; but I think she is a little +superior to the common run of English girls." + +"I hope she may be able to endure Matcham. After all, the country round +is tolerably interesting." + +"Oh, I believe she will put up with it for her father's sake, if he is +happy here. Only no doubt she will miss the adulation." + +"She must not be allowed to miss it. All the young men in the +neighbourhood will be her worshippers." + +Mrs. Mornington shrugged her shoulders, pursed up her lips, and made a +long slashing cut in a breadth of substantial calico. + +"The young men of the neighbourhood will hardly fill the gap," she +said. "Yourself excepted, there is not an idea among them--that is +to say, not an idea unconnected with sport. If a girl doesn't care +to talk about hunting, shooting, or golf, there is no such thing as +conversation for her in Matcham." + +Before Allan could reply, the drawing-room door was thrown open, and +Mrs. Mornington rose to receive a visitor. Her seat in the verandah +commanded the drawing-room as well as the garden, and she was always on +the alert for arrivals. Allan rose as quickly, expecting to see Miss +Vincent. + +"Mrs. Wornock," announced the butler, with a grand air, perfectly +cognizant of the lady's social importance. + +To Allan the appearance of the lady of Discombe was as startling as if +she had lived at the other end of England. And yet Mrs. Mornington had +told him that she and Mrs. Wornock exchanged three or four visits in +the course of the year. + +Mrs. Mornington greeted her guest with cordiality, and the two women +came out to the verandah together. They offered a striking contrast, +and, as types of the sex, were at the opposite poles of woman. One was +of the world, worldly, large, strongly built, loud-voiced, resolute, +commanding, a woman whose surplus power was accentuated by the petty +sphere in which she lived; the other was slender and youthful in +figure, with a marked fragility of frame, pale, ethereal, and with a +girlish shyness of manner, not wanting in mental power, perhaps, but +likely to be thought inferior, from the lack of self-possession and +self-esteem. All the social advantages which surrounded Mrs. Wornock of +Discombe had been insufficient to give her the self-confidence which +is commonly superabundant in the humblest matron who has passed her +thirtieth birthday. + +She gave a little start of surprise at finding Allan in the verandah, +but the smile with which she offered him her hand was one of pleasure. +She took the seat which Mrs. Mornington offered her--the most +comfortable chair in the verandah--and then began to apologize for +having taken it. + +"I'm afraid this is your chair----" + +"No, no, no. Sit where you are, for goodness' sake!" cried Mrs. +Mornington. "I never indulge myself with an easy-chair till my day's +work is done. We are going to have our tea out here." The servants +were bringing table and tray as she talked. "I'm very glad you came +to see me this afternoon, for I dare say my niece will be running in +presently--my brother Robert's daughter--and I want you to call upon +her. I told you all about her the other day when I was at the Manor." + +"Would she like me to call, do you think? Of course I will call, if you +wish it; but I hardly think she will care." + +"I know that she will care," replied Mrs. Mornington, busy at the +tea-table. "She is not a great performer, but she is almost as +enthusiastic about music as you are. She is a Roman, and those old +Masses of which you are so fond mean more to her than they do to most +of us." + +Allan's spirits had risen with the expectation of Miss Vincent's +appearance. He had been right in his conclusions, after all. + +He resumed his seat, which was near enough to Mrs. Wornock's chair for +confidential talk. + +"You have quite deserted me, Mr. Carew," she said, with gentle +reproachfulness. "I thought you would have been to see me before now." + +"I did not want to seem intrusive." + +"You could not seem or be intrusive. You are so much more to me than +a common friend. You remind me of the past--of my son. You would be +almost as another son to me if you would let me think of you like that. +If----" + +She spoke quickly, almost passionately, and her low voice had a thrill +of feeling in it which touched him deeply. What a strange impulsive +creature this woman was, in spite of the timidity and reserve that +had kept her aloof from that rural society over which she might have +reigned as a queen. + +Before Allan could reply to Mrs. Wornock's unfinished speech, there +came a welcome diversion in the shape of a large black poodle, +which rushed vehemently across the lawn, stood on end beside Mrs. +Mornington's gown for a moment or two, sniffed the tea-table, wheeled +round, and rushed off again in a diagonal line towards the point whence +he had come. + +This sudden black appearance was followed by an appearance in lavender +cambric, and the tall, slim form of a very elegant young woman, whose +simple attire, as at the ball, bore the true Parisian stamp, that +indescribable air of unlikeness to British dress, which is rather a +negative than a positive quality. + +The brilliant dark eyes flashed a smile upon Allan, as the young lady +allowed him to take her hand _à l'Anglaise_, after she had spoken +to her aunt and been introduced to Mrs. Wornock. + +"Your poodle is a little too bad, Suzie. He nearly knocked me and the +tea-table clean over." + +"That is one of the aunt's innocent exaggerations," said Suzette, +laughing. "If you know her as well as I do, Mrs. Wornock, you must +know that she always talks in a large way. Poor Caro. He is only a +puppy; and I think, for a puppy, his manners are perfect." + +Caro was crouching at her feet, breathing hard, for the space of half +a minute as she spoke, and then he rushed off again, circling the lawn +three or four times, with spasmodic halts by his mistress, or by the +tea-table. + +"He is rather a ridiculous dog at present," apologized Suzette, fondly +watching these manœuvres; "but he is going to be very clever. He has +begun to die for his queen, and he will do wonderful things when he +is older. I have been warned not to teach him too much while he is a +puppy, for fear of addling his brain." + +"I don't believe he has any brain to be addled, or at least he must +have addled it for himself with that absurd rushing about," said Mrs. +Mornington, dealing out the tea-cups, which Allan meekly handed to the +two ladies. + +He had been to so many afternoon tea-parties of late that he felt as if +handing cups and saucers and cream and sugar were a kind of speciality +with him. In Suffolk he had never troubled about these things. His time +had been taken up with shooting or fishing. He had allowed all social +amenities to be performed by his mother, unaided by him. At Matcham +he had become a new being, a person to be called upon and to return +calls, with all the punctiliousness of a popular curate. He wondered at +himself as he accomplished these novel duties. + +Mrs. Wornock began to talk to Suzette, constrainedly at first, but the +girl's frank vivacity soon put her at her ease, and then Allan joined +in the conversation, and in a few minutes they were all three on the +friendliest terms, although the elder lady gradually dropped out of +the conversation, save for a word or two now and then when addressed +by the other two. She seemed content to sit by and listen while those +two talked, as much interested in them as they were interested in +each other. She was quick to perceive Allan's subjugation, quick to +understand that he was surrendering himself without a struggle to the +fascination of a girl who was not quite as other girls, who had nothing +hackneyed or conventional in person or manner. + +After tea, they all went round the lawn, headed by Mrs. Mornington, to +look at her roses and carnations, flowers which were her peculiar pride +and care. + +"If I had such a garden as yours--a day-dream in gardens--I don't +suppose I should take any trouble about a few beds of dwarf-roses and +picotees," she said to Mrs. Wornock; "but these flower-beds are all I +have to console me for the Philistinism of my surroundings." + +"Oh, but you have a really fine shrubbery," urged Allan, remembering +that promenade of the other night among the lights and shadows, and +the perfume of dewy conifers. "That belt of deodara and arbutus and +rhododendrons, and this fine expanse of level lawn ought to satisfy any +lady's ambition." + +"No doubt. This garden of mine always reminds me of the Church +catechism. It suggests that state of life to which it has pleased +God to call me--an eminently respectable, upper middle-class garden, +fifty years old at most; while the grounds at Discombe carry one back +three centuries, and one expects to meet fine gentlemen in ruffs and +doublets, with roses on their shoes, and talking like that book whose +name I forget, or abusing the new and detestable custom of smoking +tobacco. You will be in love with Mrs. Wornock's garden, Suzette, and +will give up all idea of improving the Marsh House flower-beds." + +"No, I shan't give up, however much I may admire," protested Suzette, +sturdily. "If I had only a cottage garden, I would toil early and late +to make it beautiful." + +"There is plenty of room at Marsh House," said Mrs. Wornock, "and the +garden is capable of improvement. When will you bring Miss Vincent to +see me and my peacocks, Mrs. Mornington? Pray let it be soon. Your +niece and I have at least one taste in common, and I think we ought +to be good friends. Will you come to luncheon to-morrow, you and Miss +Vincent, and you, Mr. Carew, if you are all disengaged?" + +"For my part, I would throw over any engagement that was capable of +being evaded," said Mrs. Mornington, cheerily. And then in an undertone +to Allan, she added, "It will be a new sensation to eat a meal at the +Manor. This burst of hospitality is almost a miracle." + +Allan accepted the invitation unhesitatingly, and began to think Mrs. +Wornock the most delightful of women, and to be angry with himself for +ever having suspected evil in her past history. Whatever was strange in +her conduct in relation to himself and to his father must be accounted +for in some way that would be consonant with guilelessness and goodness. + + * * * * * + +That luncheon at Discombe Manor was the beginning of a new phase +in Allan Carew's existence. All things must begin some day; and +love--serious and earnest love--is one of the things which have +their beginning, and whose beginning is sweeter than all the other +first-fruits of life. It is not to be supposed that Allan was +altogether a stranger to tender emotions, that he had come to five and +twenty years of age without ever having fancied himself in love. He +had had his boyish loves, and they had ended in disappointment. The +blighting wind of satiety had swept across his budding loves before +they had time to flower. All those youthful goddesses of his had shown +him too soon and too plainly that there was very little of Olympian +grandeur about them. As an only son with good prospects, he had been +rudely awakened to the cruel truth that the average young lady has a +sharp eye to the main chance, and that he, Allan Carew, was measured +by his expectations rather than by his merits. Very early in his youth +he made up his mind that he would never let his heart go out to any +woman who contemplated marriage from a business standpoint; and he +had been keenly on the watch for the canker of worldliness among +the flowers. Unluckily for his chances of matrimony, the prettiest +girls he had met hitherto had been the most worldly; trained perhaps +to worldliness on account of their marketable qualities. Much as he +admired high-mindedness in woman, he was not high-minded enough to seek +out virtue under an unattractive exterior; so he had almost made up his +mind to follow his uncle's example, and go through life a bachelor. + +As a bachelor he might count himself rich, and for a bachelor +Beechhurst was an admirable dwelling-place. The house had been built +for a bachelor. The rooms were spacious but few. Twice as many +bedrooms, best and secondary, would be required for a family man. +Thinking vaguely of the possibility of marriage, Allan had shuddered +as he thought of an architect exploring that delightful upper floor, +measuring walls, and tapping partitions, and discussing the best point +at which to throw out a nursery wing, and where to add three or four +servants' bedrooms. + +And behold now this prudent, far-seeing young man, whose philosophy +hitherto had been the philosophy of pure selfishness, was allowing +himself to fall in love with a young lady who, for all he could tell, +might be just as mercenary and worldly-minded as the girls he had met +in Suffolk shooting-parties or in London ball-rooms. He had no reason +to suppose her any better than they. Her father was a man of moderate +means, and according to all the rules of modern life, it would be her +duty to make a good marriage. He remembered how Mrs. Mornington had +ordered her niece to save a dance for him, and he might conclude from +that and other small facts that the aunt would favour him as a suitor +for the niece. Yet the idea of worldly-mindedness never entered his +thoughts in relation to Suzette. He abandoned himself to the charm +of her delightful individuality without the faintest apprehension of +future disillusion. He thought, indeed, but little of the future. +The joys of the present were all-sufficing. To talk with her in +unrestrained frivolity, glancing from theme to theme, but always with a +grain of sentiment or philosophy in their talk; to walk beside her in +those stately alleys at Discombe, or to linger in the marble temple; +to follow the peacocks along the grass walks; to look for the nests +of the thrushes and blackbirds in the thick walls of laurel; to plan +garden-plays--Twelfth Night, Midsummer Night's Dream--in that grassy +amphitheatre, which reminded Allan of the Boboli Gardens--these things +made a happiness that filled mind and heart to the exclusion of all +thought of the future. + +"I can understand the lilies better now than when I was first told to +consider them," said Allan one day, as he stood with Suzette beside a +great bed of lilium auratum. + +"How do you mean?" + +"Because I am as happy as they are, and take no more heed of the future +than they do. I feel as they feel when they sway in the summer wind and +bask in the summer sun, fed with the dews of night, having all things +that are good for flowers, satisfied and happy." + +"You are as foolish as I am. I can't help fancying sometimes that +flowers are alive and can feel the sun and the glory of the blue sky. +To be always looking up at the sky, dumb, lifeless, not knowing! One +would hardly care for flowers if one could realize that they have +neither sense nor feeling. Yet I suppose one does realize that cruel +fact sometimes. I know when I have been looking at the roses, and +delighting in their beauty, Caro meets me as I go back to the house, +and as he leaps and frisks about me, the difference between him and the +flowers strikes me very keenly. They so beautiful and so far off, he so +near and dear--the precious living thing!" + +"Ah, that is the crown of things, Miss Vincent--life! Dead loveliness +is nothing in comparison!" + +"No," said Suzette. "And what a blessing that life is beautiful in +itself. One can love ugly people; one may adore an ugly dog; but who +ever cared for an ugly chair, or could become attached to an ugly +house?" + +"Not knowingly; but I have known people fondly attached to the +most hideously furnished rooms. And oh, how humiliating it is for +middle-aged people like my mother to be obliged to admit that the +things we think hideous were accounted beautiful when they were young!" + +This easy, trivial talk was the growth of more than one luncheon, and +a good many tea-drinkings, in the music-room or in the gardens of +Discombe. Mrs. Wornock had opened her heart and her house to Suzette as +she had never before done to any young lady in the neighbourhood, and +Suzette warmly reciprocated the kindness of the recluse. She ran in at +the Manor House almost as unceremoniously as she ran in at the Grove. +It was understood by the servants that their mistress was always at +home to Miss Vincent. And as Allan had previously been made free of the +Manor House, it was only natural that he and Suzette should meet very +often under Mrs. Wornock's mild chaperonage. + +Mrs. Mornington knew of these meetings, and, indeed, often dropped in +while the young people were there, coming to take Suzette home in her +pony-carriage, or to walk with her through the lanes. She showed no +sign of disapproval; yet, as a woman of the world, it may have occurred +to her that, since Mrs. Wornock was so fond of Suzette, it might be +wise for Suzette to refrain from attaching herself to Allan Carew, +while a superior _parti_ remained in the background in the person +of Mrs. Wornock's only son. + +Happily for Allan, Mrs. Mornington, although essentially mundane, was +not a schemer. She had made up her mind that Allan was a good deal +better than the average young man, and that Beechhurst was quite good +enough for her niece, whose present means and expectations were of a +very modest order. There had been no mock humility in Mrs. Mornington's +statement of facts when she told Allan that her brother's income, from +all sources, was just big enough to enable him to live respectably at +Marsh House. + + * * * * * + +The foliage was beginning to show gleams of gold and red amidst the +sombre green of late summer; the hounds were beginning to meet at seven +o'clock in the crisper, clearer mornings of September; and Allan Carew +was beginning to feel himself the bond-slave of a young lady about +whose sentiments towards himself he was still entirely in the dark. + +Did she care for him much, a little, not at all? Allan Carew was +continually asking himself those questions, and there was no oracle to +answer him; no oracle even in his inner consciousness, which told him +nothing of Suzette's feelings. He knew that he loved her; but he could +recall no word or look of hers which could assure him that she returned +his love. It was certain that she liked him, and that his society was +pleasant to her. + +They had an infinite series of ideas in common--they thought alike upon +most subjects; and she seemed no more to weary of his society than +he of hers--yet there were times when he thought he might have been +nearer winning her love had she liked him less. Her friendship seemed +too frank ever to ripen into love. He would have liked to see her start +and blush at his coming. She did neither; but received him with her +airiest grace, and had always her laughter ready for his poor jokes, +her intellect on the alert for his serious speech about books or men. +She was the most delightful companion he had ever known; but a sister +could not have been more at her ease with him. + +"I sometimes think you take me for one of your old convent friends," he +said one day, when she had prattled to him of her housekeeping and her +garden as they walked up and down the long grass alley, while the music +of the organ came to them, now loud with the lessening distance, now +sinking slowly to silence as they walked further from the house. + +"Oh no; I should never take you for any one so patrician and +distinguished as Laure de Beauvais, or Athenaïs de Laroche," she +answered laughingly, "I should never dare to talk to them about eggs +and butter, the obstinacy of a cook at twenty-five pounds a year, the +ignorance of a gardener who is little better than a day labourer. But +perhaps I am wrong to talk to you of these everyday cares. I will try +to talk as I would to Athenaïs. I will dispute the merit of Lamartine's +Elegy on Byron as compared with Hugo's Ode to the King of Rome. I was +for Hugo; Athenaïs for Lamartine. We used to have terrible battles. And +now Athenaïs is married to a financier, and has a palace in the Parc +Monceau, and gives balls to all Paris; and I am living with father in a +shabby old house with three maids and a man-of-all-work." + +"Talk to me as you like," he said; "talk to me as your serf, your +slave." + +And then, without a moment's pause in which to arrange his thoughts, +surprised into a revelation which he had intended indefinitely to +defer, he told her that he was in very truth her slave, and that he +must be the most miserable of men if this avowal of his love touched +no answering chord in her heart. + +She who was habitually so gay grew suddenly grave almost to sadness, +and looked at him with an expression which was half-frightened, +half-reproachful. + +"Oh, why do you talk like this?" she cried. "We have been such +friends--so happy." + +"Shall we be less friendly or less happy when we are lovers?" + +That word "when" touched her keen sense of the ridiculous. + +"When we are lovers!" she echoed, smiling at him. "You take everything +for granted." + +"I have no alternative between confidence and despair." + +"Really, really, now? Am I really necessary to your happiness?" + +"You are my happiness. I come here, or I go to the Grove, and find you, +and I am happy. When I go away, I leave happiness behind me, except +the reflected light of memory; except the dreams in which your image +floats about me, in which I hear your voice, the sweet voice that is +kinder in my dreams than it ever is in my waking hours." + +"Surely I am never unkind." + +"No; but in my dreams you are more than kind--you are my own and my +love. You are what I hope you will be soon, Suzette--soon! Life's +morning is so short. Let us spend it together." + +They were in the temple at the end of the cypress walk, and in that +semi-sacred solitude his arm had stolen round her waist, his lips were +seeking hers, gently, yet with a force which it needed all her strength +to oppose. + +"No; no; you must not. I can promise nothing yet. I have had no time to +think." + +"No time! Oh, Suzette, you must have known for the last six weeks that +I adore you." + +"I am not vain enough to imagine myself adored. I think I knew that you +liked me--almost from the first----" + +"Liked and admired you from the very first," interrupted Allan. + +"My aunt said things--hinted and laughed, and was altogether absurd; +but one's kinsfolk are so vain." + +"Yes, when they have a goddess born among them." + +"Oh, please don't be too ridiculous. You know that I like you; but, as +for loving, I must have a long, long time to think about _that_." + +"You shall think as long as you like; so long as you do not withdraw +your friendship. I cannot live without you." + +"Why should I cease to be your friend? Only promise that you will never +again talk, or behave, as foolishly as you have done this afternoon." + +"I promise, solemnly promise; until you give me leave to be foolish," +he added, with a touch of tenderness. + +He felt that he had been precipitate; that he might, by this temerity, +have brought upon himself banishment from the Eden in which he was +so happy. He had been over bold in thinking that the time which had +sufficed for the growth of passionate love on his part was enough to +make this charming girl as fond of him as he was of her. He was ashamed +of his presumption. The degrees of their merit were so different; she a +being whom to know was to love; he a very commonplace young man. + +Suzette was quite as easy in her manner with him after that little +outbreak as she had been before. He had promised not to renew the +attack, and in her simple truthfulness she believed all promises sacred +between well-bred people. + +Mrs. Mornington dropped in at teatime, ready to drive her niece home. +It was a common thing now for Suzette to spend the whole day at +Discombe, playing classical duets with Mrs. Wornock, or sitting quietly +by her side reading or musing while she played the organ. The girl's +religious feeling gave significance to that noble music of the old +German and Italian masses which to other hearers were only music. The +acquaintance between the elder woman and the younger had ripened by +this time into a friendship which was not without affection. + +"Mrs. Wornock is my second aunt, and Discombe is my second home," said +Suzette, explaining the frequency of her visits. + +"And the Grove, does not that count as home?" asked Mrs. Mornington, +with an offended air. + +"It is so much my home that I don't count it at all. It is more like +home than Marsh House, both for father and for me." + +Later, when the pony-carriage was taking aunt and niece along the road +to Matcham, Suzette said suddenly, after a silence-- + +"Auntie, would it be a shock to your nerves if I were to tell you +something that happened to-day." + +"My nerves are very strong, Suzie. What kind of thing was it? and did +it concern Mr. Carew _par exemple_?" + +"How clever you are at guessing! Yes, it was Mr. Carew. He proposed to +me." + +"And of course you accepted him." + +"Of course! Oh, auntie! what do you think I am made of? I have only +known him about two months." + +"What of that? If you had been brought up in the French fashion--and a +very sensible fashion it is, to my thinking--you would have only seen +him two or three times before you marched up to the altar with him. +Surely you did not reject him?" + +"I may not have said positively no; but I told him that it was much +too soon--that I could not possibly love him after such a short +acquaintance, and that, if we were to go on being friends, he must +never speak of such a thing again." + +"Never!" + +"I think the word was never--or, at any rate, for a long, long time. +And he promised." + +"He will keep his promise, no doubt. Well, Suzette, all I can say is +that you must be very difficult to please. I don't believe there is +another girl in Matcham who would have refused Allan Carew." + +"What, are all the young ladies in Matcham so much alike that the same +young man would suit them all? Have they no individuality?" + +"They have individuality enough to know a good young man, with an +excellent position in life, when they see one. I believe your father +will be as disappointed as I am." + +"Disappointed? Because I am not in a hurry to leave him. I don't know +my father, if he is capable of such unkindness." + +"Suzette, that little mind of yours is full to the brim of high-flown +notions," retorted her aunt, impatiently. + +"Dear auntie, surely you are not angry?" + +"Yes, Suzie, I am angry, because I have a very high opinion of Allan +Carew. I consider him a pearl among young men." + +"Really, aunt! And if he were a poor curate, or a barrister +without--what do you call them--briefs? Yes, briefs! Would he be a +pearl then?" + +"He would be just as good a young man, but not a husband for you. +Don't expect romantic ideas from me, Suzette. If I ever was romantic, +it was so many years ago that I have quite forgotten the sensation." + +"And you cannot conjure back your youth in order to understand me," +said her niece, musingly. "You are not like Mrs. Wornock, whose mind +seems always dwelling upon the past." + +"Has she talked to you of her youth?" Mrs. Mornington asked quickly. + +"Not directly; but she has talked vaguely sometimes of feelings +long dead and gone--of the dead whom she loved--her father whom she +lost when she was seventeen, and whose spirit--as she thinks--holds +communion with her in her solitary daydreams at the organ. He was a +musician, like herself, passionately fond of music." + +"I hope you will not take up any of Mrs. Wornock's fads." + +"Not unless you call music a fad." + +"No, no, music is well enough, and I like you to practise and improve +your playing. But I hope you will never allow yourself to believe in +poor Mrs. Wornock's nonsense about spirit-rapping, and communion with +the dead. You must see that the poor woman is _toquée_." + +"I see that she is dreamy; and I am not carried away by her dreams. +I think her the most interesting woman I ever met. Don't be jealous, +auntie darling, I should never be as fond of her as I am of you." + +"I hope not!" + +"Only I can't help being interested in her. She is _simpatica_." + +"'Simpatica!' I hate the word. I never heard any one talked of as +simpatica who hadn't a bee in her bonnet. I really don't know if your +father ought to allow you to be so much at the Manor." + +"I am going to take him to see Mrs. Wornock to-morrow afternoon. I know +he will be in love with her." + +"It would be a very good thing if he were to marry her, and make a +sensible woman of her." + +"Mrs. Wornock with a second husband! The idea is hateful. She would +cease to interest me, if she were so commonplace as to marry. I prefer +her infinitely with what you call her fads." + +"'Crabbed age and youth cannot live together,'" said Mrs. Mornington, +quoting one of the few poets with whom she had any acquaintance. +"You and I would never think alike, I suppose, young woman. And so +you refused Mr. Carew, and told him never to talk to you of love or +wedlock, and you refused Beechhurst, yonder," pointing with her whip +across the heath to where the white walls of Allan Carew's house smiled +in the afternoon sunlight. "I know what your uncle Mornington will say +when I tell him what a little fool you have been." + +"Auntie, why is it you want me to marry, Mr. Carew?" Suzette asked +pleadingly. "Is it because he is rich? Is it for the sake of +Beechhurst?" + +"No, Miss Minx, it is because I believe him to be a good young man--a +gentleman--and as true as steel." + +Suzette gave a little sigh, and for a minute or so was dumb. + +"Do you know why I have always been glad that my father is an +Englishman?" she asked presently. + +"Why, because he is an Englishman, I suppose. I should think any girl +would be English if she could." + +"No, auntie, I am not so proud of my father's country as all that. I +have been glad of my English father because I knew that English girls +are allowed to make their own choice in marriage." + +"And a very pretty use you are going to make of your privileges, +refusing the best young man in the neighbourhood. If you were my +daughter, I should be half inclined to send for one of those whipping +ladies we read about, and have you brought to your senses that way." + +"No, you wouldn't, auntie. You wouldn't be unkind to daughter or to +niece." + +"Well, you have your father to account to. What will he say, I wonder?" + +"Only that his Suzie is to do just as she likes. Do you know that I +refused a subaltern up at the Hills, a young man with an enormous +fortune whom ever so many girls were trying to catch--girls and widows +too--he might have had a large choice." + +"And what did my brother say to that?" + +"He only laughed, and told me that I knew my own value." + +Mrs. Mornington was thoughtful for the rest of the way. Perhaps, after +all, it was a good thing for a girl to be difficult to please. A +girl as bright and as pretty as Suzette could afford to give herself +airs. Allan would be sure to propose to her again; and then there was +Geoffrey Wornock, who was expected home before Christmas. Who could +tell if Geoffrey might not be as deeply smitten with this charming +hybrid as Allan? and Discombe was to Beechhurst as sunlight unto +moonlight, in extensiveness and value. + +"And yet I would rather she should marry Carew," mused Mrs. Mornington. +"I should be afraid of young Wornock." + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + NOT YET. + + +Allan was dashed by Suzette's refusal to accept him on any other +footing than that of friendship, and he was angry with himself for +having spoken too soon. The only comfort left him was her willingness +to consider him still her friend; but this was cold comfort, and in +some wise more disheartening than if she had been more angry. Yet in +his musings he could but think that she liked him better than a mere +average acquaintance; while now and then there stole across his mind +the flattering hope that she liked him better than she herself knew. He +recalled all those happy hours they had spent together, with only Mrs. +Wornock to make a third, Mrs. Wornock who so often crept away to her +beloved organ and left them free to loiter in the gardens, or to sit +in one of the deeply recessed windows, talking in whispers, while the +music filled the room, or to stray far off in the stately pleasaunce, +where their light laughter could not disturb the player. + +They had talked together often enough and long enough to have explored +each other's minds and imaginations, and they had found that about all +great things they thought alike; while their differences of opinion +about the trifles of life gave them subjects for mirthful argument, +occasions for disagreeing only to end in agreement. + +Suzette complained that Allan's university training made all argument +unfair. How could she--an illogical, prejudiced woman, maintain her +ground against a master of dialectics? + +In all their companionship he could remember no moments of ennui, no +indication upon the young lady's part that she could have been happier +elsewhere than in his company. This was at least encouraging. The dual +solitude seemed to have been as pleasant to her as it was to him. She +had confided in him in the frankest fashion. She had told him story +after story of her convent life; of her friends and chosen companions. +She had talked to him as a girl might talk to a cousin whom she liked +and trusted; and how often does such liking ripen into love; an +attachment truer and more lasting than that hot-headed love at first +sight, born of the pleasure of the eye, and taking shallowest root in +the mind. Allan's musings ended in a determination to cultivate the +friendship which had not been withheld from him, and to trust to time +for the growth of love. + +He was anxious to see Suzette as soon as possible after that premature +avowal which had stirred the calm current of their companionship, +lest she should have time to ponder upon his conduct, and to feel +embarrassed at their next meeting. She had told him that she was going +to the golf-links before breakfast on the following morning; so at +eight o'clock Allan made his appearance on the long stretch of rather +rough common-land which bordered the Salisbury road half a mile from +Beechhurst, and which was distinguished from other waste places by the +little red flags of the golf club. + +She was there, as fresh as the morning, in her blue-serge frock and +sailor hat, attended by a small boy, and with the vicar's youngest +daughter for her companion. + +She blushed as they shook hands--blushed, and then distinctly laughed; +and the laugh, frank as it sounded, was the laugh of a triumphant +coquette, for she was thinking of her aunt's indignation yesterday +afternoon, and thinking how little it mattered her refusing a man who +was so absolutely her slave. Propose to her again, forsooth? Why, of +course he would propose to her again, and again, and again, as that +foolish young subaltern had done at Simla. Were all men as foolish, +Suzette wondered; and had all young women as much liberty of choice? + +She glanced involuntarily at the Vicar's youngest daughter, regarded by +her family as the flower of the flock, but of a very humble degree in +the floral world. A fresh-coloured, pudding-faced girl, with small eyes +and a pug nose, but with a tall, well-developed figure of the order +that is usually described as "fine." + +The golf went on in a desultory way, Allan strolling after the +players, and venturing a remark now and then, as suggested by a single +summer's experience at St. Andrews. When the two girls had been +round the course, and it was time to hasten home to their respective +breakfast-tables, he accompanied them on their way, and after having +left Miss Bessie Edgefield at the Vicarage gate he had Suzette all +to himself for something under a quarter of a mile. They met Mrs. +Mornington a little way from Marsh House, sallying out for her morning +conference with butcher and fishmonger, the business of providing Mr. +Mornington's dinner being too important to be left to the hazards +of cook and shopkeeper. It was necessary that Mrs. Mornington's own +infallible eye should survey saddle or sirloin, and measure the +thickness of turbot or sole. + +She greeted the two young people with jovial heartiness, and rejoiced +beyond measure at seeing them together. After all, perhaps Suzette had +done well in refusing the first offer. The poor young man was evidently +her slave. + +"Or if Geoffrey should fall desperately in love with her," mused Mrs. +Mornington, on her way to the village street, not quite heroic enough +to put the owner of Discombe Manor altogether out of her calculations; +"but, no, I shouldn't care about that. It would be too risky." + +That which Mrs. Mornington would not care about was the mental tendency +that Geoffrey might inherit from his mother, whom the strong-minded, +clear-headed lady regarded as a visionary, if not a harmless lunatic. +No! Geoffrey was clever, interesting, fascinating even; but he was +not to be compared with Allan, whose calm common sense had won Mrs. +Mornington's warmest liking. + +After that morning on the links, and the friendly homeward walk, Allan +felt more hopeful about Suzette; but he was not the less bent upon +bringing to bear every influence which might help him to win her for +his own, before any other suitor should come forward to dispute the +prize with him. Happily for him, there were few eligible young men in +the neighbourhood, and those few thought more of horses and guns than +of girlhood and beauty. + +Lady Emily had promised her son a visit in the autumn. Allan hoped +that his father would accompany her. He wanted to bring Suzette into +the narrow circle of his home life, to bring her nearer to himself by +her liking for his mother and father. With this intent he urged on the +promised visit, delighted at the thought that his mother's presence +would enable him to receive Suzette as a guest in the house where he +hoped she would some day be mistress. + +He wrote to his father, reminding him of his assurance that he would +not always remain a stranger to his son's home, and this letter of +his, which dwelt earnestly upon certain unexplained reasons why he was +especially anxious for his father's early presence at Beechhurst, was +not without effect. The recluse consented to leave his library, which +perhaps was no greater sacrifice on his part than Lady Emily made in +leaving her farm. Indeed, one of the inducements which Allan held out +to his mother was the promise of a pair of white peacocks from Mrs. +Wornock, finer and whiter than the birds at Fendyke. + +Mr. Carew professed himself pleased with his son's surroundings. + +"Your house is like the good man who bequeathed it to you," he said, +after his tour of inspection; "essentially comfortable, solid, and +commonplace. The admiral had a grand solidity of character; but even +your mother will not deny that he was commonplace." + +Lady Emily nodded a cheery assent. She always agreed with her husband +on all points that did not touch the white farm. There her opinions +were paramount; and she would not have submitted to dictation in so +much as the ears of a rabbit. + +"I could hardly forgive my brother for buying such a house if he +hadn't-----" + +"Left it to your son," interrupted her husband. + +"No, George, that is not what I was going to say. I could not forgive +his Philistine taste if he had not brought home all those delicious +things from China, and built the Mandarin's room. That is the redeeming +feature which makes the house worth having." + +"Every one admits that it is a fine room," said Allan. "There is no +such room in the neighbourhood, except at Discombe." + +"Your father must see Discombe, Allan. We must introduce him to Mrs. +Wornock." + +"I think not, mother. He would be insufferably bored by a woman who +believes in spirit-rapping, sees visions, and plays the organ for hours +at a stretch." + +His father looked at him intently. + +"Who is this person?" he asked quickly. + +"A rich widow, whose son is lord of the manor of Discombe, one of the +most important places between here and Salisbury." + +"And she believes in spiritualism. Curious in a lady living in the +country. I thought that kind of thing had died out with Home, and the +famous article in the _Cornhill Magazine_." + +"We have had later prophets. Eglinton, for instance, with his +materializations and his slate-writing. I don't think the +spiritualistic idea is dead yet, in spite of the ridicule which the +outside herd has cast upon it." + +"I hope the widow lady is not beguiling you into sharing her delusions, +Allan." + +The son had seen a look in the father's face which spoke to him +as plainly as any spoken words. That look had told him that his +description of Mrs. Wornock conjured up some thrilling image in his +father's mind. He saw that startled wondering look come and go, slowly +fading out of the pensive face, as the mind dismissed the thought which +Allan's words had awakened. Surely it was not a guilty look which +had troubled his father's mild countenance--rather a look of awakened +interest, of eager questioning. + +"I should hate to see Allan taking up any nonsense of that kind," said +Lady Emily, with her practical air; "but really, if this Mrs. Wornock +were not twenty years older than he, I should suspect him of being in +love with her. She is a pretty, delicate-looking woman, with a shy, +girlish manner, and looks ridiculously young to be the mother of a +grown-up son." + +"Oh, she has a grown-up son, has she?" asked Mr. Carew. "She belongs to +this part of the country, I suppose, and is a woman of good family?" + +He looked at his son; but, for some reason of his own, Allan parried +the question. + +"I know hardly anything about her, except that she is a very fine +musician, and that she has been particularly kind to me," he said. + +"There, George," cried Lady Emily. "Didn't I tell you so? The foolish +boy is half in love with her!" + +"You will not say that after to-morrow, mother." + +"Shall I not? But why?" + +"You will lose all interest in to-morrow, if I tell you. Go on +wondering, mother dear, till to-morrow, and to-morrow I will tell you +a secret; but, remember, it is not to be talked about to any one in +Matcham." + +"Should I talk of a secret, Allan?" + +"I don't know. I have an idea that secrets are the staple of tea-table +talk in a village." + +"Poor village! for how much it has to bear the blame; and yet people +are worse gossips in Mayfair and Belgravia." + +"Only because they have more to talk about." + + * * * * * + +Allan had arranged a luncheon-party for the following day. His courage +had failed at the idea of a dinner: the lengthy ceremonial, the fear of +failure if he demanded too much of his cook, the long blank space after +dinner, with its possibility of ennui. Luncheon was a friendlier meal, +and would less heavily tax the resources of a bachelor's establishment; +and then there was the chance of being able to wander about the garden +with Suzette in the afternoon, the hope of keeping her and her father +till teatime, when the other people had gone home; though people do not +disperse so speedily after a country luncheon as in town, and it might +be that everybody would stop to tea. No matter, if he could steal away +with Suzette to look at the single dahlias, in the west garden, fenced +off from the lawn by a high laurel hedge, leaving Lady Emily and Mrs. +Mornington to entertain his guests. + +He had asked Mr. and Mrs. Mornington, General Vincent and his +daughter, Mr. Edgefield, the Vicar, and his daughter Bessie (Suzette's +antagonist at golf), Mr. and Mrs. Roebuck, a youngish couple, who +prided themselves on being essentially of the great world, towny, +cosmopolitan, anything but rustic, and who insisted on talking +exclusively of London and the Riviera to people who rarely left their +native gardens and paddocks. Mr. Roebuck had been officiously civil to +Allan, and he had felt constrained to invite him. The invitation was on +Mrs. Mornington's principle of payment for value received. + +Allan had invited Mrs. Wornock; he had even pressed her to be of the +party, but she had refused. + +"I don't care for society," she said. "I am out of my element among +smart people." + +"There will be very little smartness--only the Roebucks, and one may +say of them as Beatrice said of Benedick, 'It is a wonder _they_ +will still be talking, for nobody minds _them_.' Seriously now, +Mrs. Wornock, I should like you to meet my father." + +"You are very kind, but you must excuse me. Don't think me rude or +ungrateful." + +"Ungrateful! Why, it is I who ask a favour." + +"But I am grateful for your kindness in wishing to have me at your +house. I will go there some day with Suzette, when you are quite +alone, and you shall show me the Mandarin-room." + +"That is too good of you. Mind, I shall exact the performance of that +promise. You are very fond of Suzette, I think, Mrs. Wornock?" + +"Yes, I am very fond of her. She is the only girl with whom I have ever +felt in sympathy; just as you are the only young man, except my son, +for whom I have ever cared." + +"You link us together in your thoughts." + +"I do, Allan," she answered gravely, "and I hoped to see you linked +by-and-by in a lifelong union." + +"That is my own fondest hope," he said. "How did you discover my +secret?" + +"Your secret! My dear Allan, I have known that you were in love with +Suzette almost from the first time I saw you together--yes, even that +afternoon at the Grove." + +"You were very sympathetic, very quick to read my thoughts. I own that +I admired her immensely even at that early stage of our acquaintance." + +"And admiration soon grew into love. It has been such happiness for me +to watch the growth of that love--to see you two young creatures so +trustful and so happy together, walking about that old garden yonder, +which has seen so little of youth or of happiness. I felt almost as +a mother might have felt watching the happiness of her son. Indeed, +Allan, you have become to me almost as a second son." + +"And you are becoming to me almost as a second mother," he said, +bending down to kiss the slim white hand which lay languidly upon her +open book. + +Never till to-day had she called him Allan, never before had she spoken +to him so freely of her regard for him. + +"Allan," she repeated softly. "You don't mind my calling you by your +Christian name?" + +"Mind! I am flattered that you should so honour me." + +"Allan," she repeated again, musingly, "why were you not called George, +after your father?" + +"Because Allan is an old family name on my mother's side of the house. +Her father and grandfather and elder brother were Allans." + +He left her almost immediately, taking leave of her briefly, with a +sudden revulsion of feeling. That question of hers, and the mention of +his father's name, chilled and angered him, in the very moment when his +heart had been moved by her sympathy and affection. + +There was something in the familiar mention of his father's name that +re-awakened those suspicions which he had never altogether banished +from his mind. It was perhaps on this account that he had spoken +slightingly of Mrs. Wornock when Lady Emily suggested that he should +make her known to his father. That question about the name had seemed +to him a fresh link in the chain of circumstantial evidence. + +Suzette and her father were the first arrivals at Allan's +luncheon-party. The General was a martinet in the matter of +punctuality; and having taken what he called his _chota haz'ri_ +at half-past six that morning, was by no means inclined to feel +indulgently disposed towards dilatory arrivals, who should keep him +waiting for his tiffin; nor could he be made to understand that a +quarter to two always meant two o'clock. The Morningtons appeared at +five minutes before two, the Vicar and his daughter as the clock struck +the hour; and then there followed a quarter of an hour of obvious +waiting, during which Allan showed Suzette the Chinese enamels and +ivories, and the arsenal of deadly swords and daggers displayed against +the wall of the Mandarin-room, while the Morningtons were discussing +with Lady Emily and her husband the merits of Wiltshire as compared +with Suffolk. + +This delay, at which General Vincent was righteously angry, was +occasioned by the Roebucks, who sauntered in with a leisurely air at +a quarter-past two; the wife on the best possible terms with herself +and her new tailor gown; the husband puffed up at having read his +_Times_ before any one else, and loquacious upon the merits of +the "crushing reply" made last night by Lord Hatfield at Windermere to +"the abominable farrago of lies" in Mr. Henry Wilkes' oration the night +before last at Kendal. + +"I dare say it was a very good speech," said the General, grimly; "but +you might have kept it for after luncheon. It would have been less +injured by waiting than Mr. Carew's joint; if he's going to give us +one." + +"Are we late?" exclaimed Mrs. Roebuck, who had endured a quarter of an +hour's agony in front of her cheval glass before the new tailor bodice +could be made to "come to." "Are we really late? How very naughty of +us! Please, please don't be angry, good people. We beg everybody's +pardon," clasping two tightly gloved hands with a prettily beseeching +gesture. + +"Don't mention it," said the General. "We all like waiting; but if +Carew has got a mug cook, I wouldn't give much for the state of her +temper at this moment." + +"We'll send a pretty message to the cook after luncheon, if she has +been clever enough not to spoil her dishes." + +The ladies--Lady Emily and Mrs. Mornington descanting on gardens +and glass all the way--went in a bevy to the dining-room, the men +following, Mr. Roebuck still quoting Lord Hatfield, and the way in +which he had demolished the Radical orator. + +"The worst of it is he don't make 'em laugh," said Mr. Mornington. +"Nobody can make 'em laugh as Wilkes does. Town or country, hodge or +mechanic, he knows the length of their foot to a fraction, and knows +what will hit them and what will tickle them." + +The cook was sufficiently "mug" to have been equal to the difficulties +of twenty minutes' delay, and the luncheon was admirable--not too many +courses, nor too many dishes, but everything perfect after its kind. +Nor was the joint--that item dear to elderly gentlemen--forgotten, +for after a first course of fish and a second of curry and _crême de +volaille_, there appeared a saddle of Wiltshire mutton, to which the +elderly gentlemen did ample justice, while the ladies, who had lunched +upon the more sophisticated dishes, supplied the greater part of the +conversation. + +"My father will quote your cook for the next six months," said Suzette, +by whose side Allan had contrived to place himself during the casual +dropping into seats at the large round table, "for yours is the only +house where he has seen Bombay ducks served with the curry." + +"Did you not tell me once that your father has a weakness for those +absurd little fish?" + +"Did I really? Was I capable of talking such absolute twaddle?" + +"It was not twaddle. It was very serious. It was on a day when I found +you looking worried and absent, unable to appreciate either Mrs. +Wornock's music or my conversation; and, on being closely questioned, +you confessed that the canker at your heart was dinner. The General +had been dissatisfied; the cook was stupid. You had done your +uttermost. You had devoted hours to the reading of cookery-books, which +seemed all of them hopelessly alike. You had studied all his fancies. +You had given him Bombay ducks with his curry----" + +"Did I say all that? How silly of me. And how ridiculous of you to +remember." + +"Memory is not a paid servant, but a most capricious Ariel. One cannot +say to one's self, I will remember this or that. My memory is as +fugitive as most people's; but there is one thing for which it can be +relied on. I remember everything about you--all you say to me, all you +do--even to the gowns you wear." + +Suzette laughed a little and blushed a little; but did not look +offended. + +"You had about five minutes' talk with my mother before I took you to +see the enamels. How do you like her?" + +"Immensely! Lady Emily is charming. She was telling me about her white +farm." + +"It would have been odd if you had escaped hearing of that, even in the +first five minutes." + +"I was deeply interested. Lady Emily has promised me some white +bramahs. I am going to start a white poultry-yard. I cannot aspire +higher than poultry; but I am determined that every bird shall be +white." + +"Pretty foolishness! And so you like my mother?" + +"Very, very much. She is one of those people with whom one feels at +one's ease from the first moment. She looks as if she could not say or +even think anything unkind." + +"I don't believe she could do either. And yet she is +human--feminine-human--and can enjoy an interesting scandal--local, +if possible. She enjoys it passively. She does nothing to swell the +snowball, and will hardly help to roll it along. She remains perfectly +passive, and never goes further than to say that she is shocked and +disappointed. And yet I believe she enjoys it." + +"It is only the excitement that one enjoys. We had scandals even +in the convent--girls who behaved badly, dishonourably, about their +studies; cheating in order to get a better chance of a prize. I'm +afraid we were all too deeply interested in the crime and the +punishment. It was something to think about and talk about when life +was particularly monotonous." + +Lady Emily was watching them from the other side of the table, and +lending rather an indifferent ear to Mr. Roebuck's account of Homburg +and the people he and his wife had met there. They had only just +returned from that exhilarating scene. He could talk of nothing but +H.R.H.'s condescension; the dear duchess; Lady this, Lord the other; +and the prodigious demand there had been for himself and his wife in +the very smartest society. + +"Four picnics a day are hardly conducive to the cure of suppressed +gout," said Mr. Roebuck; "and there were ever so many days when we +had to cut ourselves up into little bits--lunching with one party, +taking coffee with another, driving home with somebody else, going to +tea-fights all over the place. Dinner engagements I positively set my +face against. Mimosa and I were there for rest and recuperation after +the season--positively washed out, both of us. You have no idea what a +rag my wife looked when we took our seats in the club train." + +Happily for Lady Emily, who had been suffering this kind of thing for +half an hour, the coffee had gone round, and at her first imploring +glance Mrs. Mornington rose and the ladies left the dining-room. Yet +even this relief was but temporary; for Mrs. Roebuck appropriated Lady +Emily in the garden, and entertained her with her own view of Homburg, +which was smarter, inasmuch as it was more exclusive than Mr. Roebuck's. + +"A horrid place," said the lady. "One meets all one's London friends +mixed up with a herd of foreign royalties whom one is expected to +cultivate. I used to send Richard to all the gaieties, while I stopped +at home and let my maid-companion read to me. We shall go to Marienbad +next August. If one could be at Homburg without people knowing one was +there, the place might be tolerable." + +"I have been told the scenery is very fine," hazarded Lady Emily. + +"Oh, the scenery is well enough; but one knows it, and one has seen +so much finer things in that way. When one has been across the +Cordilleras, it is absurd to be asked to worship some poor little hills +in Germany." + +"I have seldom been out of Suffolk, except to visit some of my people +in Scotland. Ben Lomond and Ben Nevis are quite big enough for me." + +"Oh, the Scotch hills are dear things, with quite a character of their +own; and a Scotch deer forest is the finest thing of its kind all over +the world. The duke's is sixty thousand acres--and Dick and I always +enjoy ourselves at Ultimathule Castle--but after being lost in a +snowstorm in the Cordilleras----" + +Lady Emily stifled a despairing yawn. Not a word had she been able to +say about her Woodbastwick cows, which she was inwardly comparing +with Allan's black muzzled Jerseys, grazing on the other side of the +sunk fence. Heartfelt was her gratitude to Mrs. Mornington when that +lady suddenly wheeled round from a confidential talk with the Vicar +and interrupted Mrs. Roebuck's journey across the Cordilleras by an +inquiry about the Suffolk branches of the Guild for supplying warm and +comfortable raiment to the deserving poor. + +"I hope you have a branch in your neighbourhood," she said. + +"Yes, indeed we have. I am a slave to the Guild all the winter. One +can't make flannel petticoats and things in summer, you know." + +"_I_ can," retorted Mrs. Mornington, decisively. + +"What, on a broiling day in August! when the very sight of flannel puts +one in a fever?" + +"I am not so impressionable. The things are wanted in October, and July +and August are quite late enough for getting them ready." + +"I subscribe to these institutions," Mrs. Roebuck remarked languidly. +"I never work for them. Life isn't long enough." + +"Then you never have the right kind of feeling about your poorer +fellow-creatures," said Mrs. Mornington. "It is the doing something for +them, using one's own hand and eye and thought for the poor toiling +creatures, sacrificing some little leisure and some little fad to +making them more comfortable--it is that kind of thing which brings the +idea of that harder world home to one." + +"Ah, how nice it is of you dear ladies to sacrifice yourselves like +that; but you couldn't do it after a June and July in London. If you +had seen what a poor creature I looked when we took our seats in the +club train for Homburg----" + +Mrs. Mornington tucked her arm under Lady Emily's and walked her away. + +"I want you to tell me all about your farm," she said. And then, in +a rather loud aside, "I can't stand that woman, and I wish your son +hadn't been so conscientious in asking her." + +While emptiness and ennui prevailed on the terrace in front of the +Mandarin-room, there were a pair of wanderers in the shrubbery, whose +talk was unleavened by worldliness or pretence of any kind. Allan had +stolen away from the smokers in the dining-room, and was escorting +Suzette and her friend Bessie Edgefield round his modest domain--the +shrubberies, the paddocks nearest the house, which had been planted and +educated into a kind of park; the greenhouse and hothouse, which were +just capacious enough to supply plenty of flowers for drawing-room and +dinner-table, but not to grow grapes or peaches. Everything was on a +modest, unassuming scale. Allan felt that after the mansion and gardens +at Discombe, his house suggested the abode of a retired shopkeeper. A +successful hosier or bootmaker might create for himself such a home. +Wholesale trade, soap, or lucifer matches, or cocoa would require +something far more splendid. + +Modest as the place was, the two girls admired, or seemed to admire, +all its details--the conifers of thirty years' growth, the smiling +meadows, the fawn-coloured cows. A sunny September afternoon showed +those fertile pastures and trim gardens at their best. Allan felt +exquisitely happy walking about those smooth lawns and gravel paths +with the girl he loved. At every word of approval he fancied she was +praising the place in which she would be content to live. After that +avowal of his the other day, it seemed to him that her kindness meant +much more than it had meant before she knew her power. She could not +be so cruel as to mock him with the promise of her smiles, her sweet +words, her undisguised pleasure in his company. Yes, he was perfectly +happy. He thought of her refusal the other day as only the prelude to +her acceptance. She had not said "No;" she had only said "Not yet." + +Bessie Edgefield was one of those sweetly constituted girls whom Nature +has especially created to be a third party in a love affair; never to +play the heroine in white satin, but always the confidante in white +muslin. She walked beside her friend, placid, silent, save for an +occasional monosyllable, and was of no more account than Suzette's +shadow. + +"The Roebucks are taking leave," exclaimed Suzette, looking across the +lawn to the groups on the terrace. "Mr. Carew, I'm afraid you are a +sadly inattentive host." + +"Have I neglected you, Miss Vincent?" + +"You have neglected Mrs. Roebuck, which is much worse. She will be +talking of your want of _savoir vivre_ all over Matcham." + +"Let her talk. She has been boring my mother with a cruelty worthy of +Torquemada. She forgets that torture was illegal in England even in +Bacon's time. See, they are all going away; but you and the General and +Miss Edgefield must stay to tea, even if the Vicar is too busy to stop." + +The Vicar had quietly vanished, to resume the round of parish duties, +quite content to leave his Bessie in comfortable quarters. The Roebucks +were going, and the Morningtons were following their example; but +General Vincent had no objection to stop to tea if his daughter and +Miss Edgefield desired him to do so. + +He was smoking a cheroot, comfortably seated in a sheltered part of +the terrace--a corner facing south, screened from east and north by an +angle of the house, where the Mandarin-room projected from the main +building--and he was absorbed in a discussion of Indian legendary lore +with Mr. Carew, who owned to some knowledge of sanscrit, and had made +Eastern fable and legend an especial study. + +Suzette and her father stayed till nearly seven o'clock, when Allan +insisted on walking home with them, having suddenly discovered that he +had had no walking that day. He had been cub-hunting from seven in the +morning till nine; but he declared himself in need of walking exercise. +Lady Emily went with them to the gate, and parted with Suzette as with +a favourite of long standing. Allan was enraptured to see his mother's +friendliness with the girl he loved; and it was all he could do to +restrain his feelings during the walk to Marsh House. + +Perhaps it was only that gay temper of hers, that readiness to laugh +at him and at all things in creation, which held him at a distance. +He had made up his mind that she was to be his--that if she were to +refuse him twenty times in twenty capricious moods of her light and +airy temperament, there was somewhere in her nature a vein of serious +feeling, and by that he would win her and hold her. + + * * * * * + +"You like Miss Vincent, mother?" he asked that evening, when he was +sitting with his father and mother in the Mandarin-room after dinner. + +The evening was warm to sultriness, and there were several casements +open in the long window which filled one end of the room; a window with +richly carved sashes and panels of cedar and lattice-work alternating +with the glass. There was another window in the western wall, less +elaborate--a door-window--which formed the usual exit to the garden. +This was closed, but not curtained. + +The room was lighted only with shaded lamps, which lighted the tables +and the spaces round them, but left the corners in shadow. + +Lady Emily was sitting at one of the tables, her fingers occupied with +a large piece of work, which she carried about with her wherever she +went, and which, to the eye of the uninitiated, never appeared to make +any progress towards completion. It was destined eventually to cover +the grand piano at Fendyke, and it was to be something very rare and +precious in the way of embroidery; the basis a collection of Breton +shawl-pattern handkerchiefs, overlaid by Lady Emily with embroidery in +many-coloured silks and Japanese gold thread. This piece of work was +a devouring monster in the matter of silk, and Lady Emily was always +telling her friends the number of skeins which were required for its +maintenance, and the cost of the gold thread which made so faint an +effect in the Oriental labyrinth of palms and sprigs and arabesques +and medallions. + +"I'm afraid I shall never live to finish it," Lady Emily would conclude +with a sigh, throwing herself back in her chair after an hour's +steadfast labour, her eyes fixed in a kind of ecstasy upon the little +corner of palm which she had encrusted with satin stitch and gold; "but +if I _do_, I really think it will repay me for all my trouble." + +To-night her mind was divided between her embroidery and her son, who +sat on a three-cornered chair beside her, meekly threading her needles +while he tried to get her to talk about Suzette. + +His father was seated almost out of earshot, at a table near the open +window, reading the _Nineteenth Century_ by the light of a lamp +which shone full upon his lowered eyelids, and on the thoughtful brow +and sensitive mouth, as he sat in a reposeful attitude in the low, deep +chair. + +"Do I like Miss Vincent?" repeated Lady Emily, when she had turned a +critical corner in the leafy edging of a scroll. "I wonder how often +you will make me tell you that I think her a very--no, Allan, the +light peacock, please--not that dark shade--very sweet girl--bright, +unaffected----" + +"And exquisitely lovely," interjected her son, as he handed her the +needleful of silk. + +"Ah, there you exaggerate awfully. She is certainly a pretty girl; +but her nose is--well, I hardly know how to describe it; but there +is a fault somewhere in the nose, and her mouth might be smaller; +but, on the other hand, she has fine eyes. Her manners are really +charming--that pretty little Parisian air which is so fascinating in a +high-bred Parisian. But, oh, Allan! can you really mean to marry her?" + +"I really mean to try my hardest to achieve that happiness, and I +shall think myself the luckiest man in Wiltshire, or in England, or in +Europe, if I succeed." + +"But, Allan, have you reflected seriously? She tells me that she is a +Roman Catholic." + +"If she were a Fire-worshipper, I would run the risk of failure in +converting her to Christianity. If she were a Buddhist, I should be +inclined to embrace the faith of Gautama; but since she is only a +conformer to a more ancient form of religion of which you and I are +followers, I don't see why her creed should be a stumbling-block to my +bliss." + +Lady Emily shook her head sagely, and breathed a profound sigh. + +"Differences of religion are so apt to make unhappiness in married +life." + +"I am not religious enough to distress myself because my wife believes +in some things that are incredible to me. We shall both follow the same +Master, both hope for reunion in the same heaven." + +"Allan, _she_ believes in Purgatory. Think how inconsistent your +ideas of the future must be." + +Allan did not pursue the argument. He was smiling to himself at the +easy way in which he had been talking of his wife--their future, +their very hopes of heaven--making so sure that she was to be his. +He looked at his father, sitting alone with them, but not of them, +and thought of his father's married life as he had seen it ever since +he was old enough to observe or understand the life around him; so +peaceful, so in all things what married life should be; and yet over +all there had been that faint shadow of melancholy which the son had +felt from his earliest years, that absence of the warmth and the +romance of a marriage where love is the bond of union. Here, Allan told +himself, the bond had been friendly regard, convenience, the world's +approval, family interests, and lastly the child as connecting link +and meeting-place of hopes and fears. Love had been missing from the +life of yonder pale student, musing over half a dozen pages of modern +metaphysics. + +Allan rose and moved slowly towards that tranquil figure, and feeling +the night air blowing cold as he approached that end of the room, he +asked his father if he would like the windows shut? + +"No, thank you, Allan, not on my account," Mr. Carew answered, without +looking up from his book. + +Had he looked up, he would have seen Allan standing between the +lamplight and the window like a man transfixed. + +A pale wan face had that moment vanished in the outward darkness; a +face which a moment before had been looking in at one of the open +lattices, a face which Allan had recognized at the first glance. + +He went to the glass door, opened it quietly, and went out to the +terrace, so quickly and so silently that his disappearance attracted no +attention from father or mother, one absorbed in his book, the other +bending over her work. + +The face was the face of Mrs. Wornock; and Mrs. Wornock must be +somewhere between the terrace and the gates. There was no moon, but +the night was clear, and the sky was full of stars. Allan went swiftly +round the angle of the house to the terrace outside the large window; +but the figure that he had seen from within was no longer stationed +outside the window. The terrace was empty. He went round to the front +of the house, whence the carriage drive wound with a gentle curve to +the gates, between shrubberies of laurel and arbutus, cypress and +deodara. + +Yes, the figure he had expected to see vanished round the curve of the +drive as he drew near the porch, a slender figure in dark raiment, +with something white about the head and shoulders. He ran along the +drive, and reached the gate just in time to see Mrs. Wornock's brougham +standing in the road, at a distance of about fifty yards, and to see +Mrs. Wornock open the door and step in. Another moment--affording him +no time for pursuit, had he even wished to pursue her--and the carriage +drove away. + +Allan had no doubt as to the motive of this conduct. She had come by +stealth to look upon the face of the man whom she had refused to meet +in the beaten way of friendship. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "SO GREW MY OWN SMALL LIFE COMPLETE." + + +After the incident of that September night, there was no longer the +shadow of doubt in Allan's mind as to the relations between his father +and the lady at Discombe Manor. That they had known each other and +loved each other in their youth he was now fully convinced. This last +strange act of Mrs. Wornock's was to his mind the strongest link in +the chain of evidence. Whatever the relations between them had been, +guilty or innocent--and fondly as he loved his father, he feared there +had been guilt in that association--it was his duty to prevent any +meeting between them, lest the mere sight of that pale, spiritual face +with its singular youthfulness of aspect, should re-awaken in his +father's breast some faint ghost of the passion that had lived and died +a quarter of a century ago. Nor did his respect for his honest-minded, +trustful-hearted mother permit him to tolerate the idea of friendly +intercourse between her and this mysterious rival from the shadowland +of vanished years. He took care, therefore, to discourage any idea of +visiting the Manor; and he carefully avoided any further talk of Mrs. +Wornock, lest his father's closer questioning should bring about the +disclosure of her identity. His father's manner, when the lady was +first discussed, had shown him very clearly that the description of her +gifts and fancies coincided with the memory of some one known in the +past; but it had been also clear that neither the name of Wornock, nor +the lady's position at Discombe, had any association for Mr. Carew. +If he had known and loved her in the past, he had known and loved her +before she married old Geoffrey Wornock. + +His anxiety upon his father's account was speedily set at rest, for +Mr. Carew--after exploring his son's small and strictly popular +library, where among rows of handsomely bound standard works, there +were practically no books which appealed to the scholar's taste--soon +wearied of unstudious ease, and announced a stern necessity for going +to London, where a certain defunct Hebrew scholar's library, lay and +ecclesiastical, was to be sold at Hodgson's. He would put up for a +few days at the old-fashioned hotel which he had used since he was +an undergraduate, potter about among the book-shops, look up some +references he wanted in the Museum Reading-room, and meet his wife at +Liverpool Street on her way home. + +Lady Emily, absorbed in her son and her son's love affair, agreed most +amiably to this arrangement. + +"Telegraph your day and hour for returning, when you have bought all +the books you want," she said. "I'm afraid you spend more money on +those dreadful old books, which nobody in Suffolk cares a straw about, +than I do on my farm, which people come to see from far and wide." + +"And a great nuisance your admirers are, Emily. I am very glad the +Suffolk people are no book-lovers; and I hope you will never hint to +anybody that my books are worth seeing." + +"I could not say anything so untrue. Your shelves are full of horrors. +Now Allan's library here is really delightful--_Blackwood's +Magazine_, from the beginning, _Macaulay_, _Scott_, +_Dickens_, _Thackeray_, _Bulwer_, _Lever_, +_Marryat_--and all of them so handsomely bound! I think my brother +showed excellent taste in literature, though I doubt if he ever read +much. But as you seem happier in your library than anywhere else, I +suppose one must forgive you for spending a fortune on books that don't +interest anybody else. And one can't help being a little bit proud of +your scholarship." + +And so they kissed and parted, with the unimpassioned kiss of marriage +which has never meant more than affectionate friendship. Lady Emily +stood at the hall door while her husband drove off to the station, and +then turned gaily to her son, and said-- + +"Now, Allan, I am yours to command. Let me see as much as possible of +that sweet young thing you are in love with. Shall we go and call on +her this afternoon? She has a white cat which may some day provide her +with kittens to distribute among her friends, and, if so, I am to have +one to bring up by hand as I did Snowdrop. You remember Snowdrop?" + +Allan kissed his mother before he answered, but not for Snowdrop's sake. + +"I have a vague recollection of something white and fluffy hanging to +the skirt of your gown, that I used to tread upon." + +"Yes, you were horrid. You very nearly killed him. Shall we go?" + +"Please, please, please, mother dearest. I am ready this instant. Three +o'clock. We shall get there at half-past, and if we loiter looking at +white kittens, or the mother of potential kittens, till half-past four, +she will give us tea, and we can make an afternoon of it." + +"Hadn't I better put on a bonnet, Allan?" + +"No, no. You will go in your hat, just as you are. You will treat her +without the slightest ceremony--treat her as your daughter. Do you +know, mother, I am uncommonly glad you never honoured me with a sister." + +"Why, Allan?" + +"Because, if I marry Suzette, she will be your only daughter. There +will be no one to be jealous of her, in Suffolk or here." + +"What a foolish fancy! Well, give me a daughter as soon as you like. I +am getting old, Allan, and your father's secluded habits leave me very +often alone. His books are more his companions than I am----" + +"Ah, but you know how he loves you, mother," interrupted Allan. + +They were on their way to the gate by this time, Lady Emily in her +travelling-hat and loose tan gloves, just as she had been going about +the gardens and meadows in the morning, Allan twirling his stick in +very gladness of heart. + +They were going to her. If she were out, they would go and find her; +at her aunt's, at the Vicarage, on the links yonder; anywhere but at +Discombe. He hoped she had not gone to Discombe. + +"Yes, he is fond of me, I believe, in his own way. There never was a +better husband," Lady Emily answered thoughtfully. "But I know, Allan! +I know!" + +"What, mother?" + +"I know that I was not his first love--that I was only a _pis +aller_--that there is something wanting in his life, and always must +be till the end. I should brood over it all, perhaps, Allan, and end by +making myself unhappy, if it were not for my farm; but all those living +creatures occupy my mind. One living fox-terrier is worth a whole +picture-gallery." + +Suzette was at home. The after-math had been cut in the meadow in front +of Marsh House, a somewhat swampy piece of ground at some seasons, +but tolerably dry just now, after a hot summer. Suzette and Bessie +Edgefield were tossing the scented grass in the afternoon sunshine, +and fancying themselves useful haymakers. They threw down their +hay-forks at the approach of visitors, and there was no more work +done that day, though Allan offered to take a fork. They all sat in +the garden talking, or wandered about among the flowers in a casual +way, and while Bessie and Lady Emily were looking at the contents of +the only greenhouse, Allan found himself alone with Suzette in a long +gravel walk on the other side of the lawn-like meadow, along all the +length of which there was a broad border filled with old-fashioned +perennials that had been growing and spreading and multiplying +themselves for half a century. A row of old medlar and hazel trees +sheltered this border from the north wind, and hid the boundary fence. + +"Dear old garden!" cried Allan. "How much nicer an old garden is than a +new one!" + +"I hope you don't mean to disparage your garden at Beechhurst. Our +gardener is always complaining of the old age of all things here. +Everything is worn out. The trees, the shrubs, the frames, the +greenhouse. One ought to begin again from the very beginning, he says. +He would be charmed with Beechhurst, where all things are so neat and +trim." + +"Cockney trimness, I'm afraid; but if you are satisfied with it, if you +think it not altogether a bad garden----" + +"I think it a delightful garden," said Suzette, blushing at that word +"satisfied," which implied so much. + +"I am glad of that," said Allan, with a deep sigh of content, as if +some solemn question had been settled. "And you like my mother?" + +"Very much indeed. But how you skip from the garden to Lady Emily!" + +"And you approve of the Mandarin-room?" + +"It is one of the handsomest rooms I ever saw, except in an Indian +palace." + +"Then take them, Suzette," he cried eagerly, with his arm round her +waist, drawing the slim figure to his breast, holding and dominating +her by force of will and strength of arm, smiling down at her with +adoring eyes. "Have them, dearest! Mother, garden, room--they are all +your own; for they belong to your very slave. They are at your feet, as +I am." + +"Do you call this being at my feet?" she asked, setting herself +suddenly free, with a joyous laugh. "You have a very impertinent way of +offering your gifts." + +"Not impertinent--only desperate. I remembered my repulse of the other +day, and I swore to myself that I would hold you in my arms--once, at +least, if only once, even if you were to banish me into outer darkness +the next moment--and I have done it, and I am glad! But you won't +banish me, will you, Suzette? You must needs know how I love you--how +long and patiently I have loved you----" + +"Long! patiently! Why, we only met at Midsummer." + +"Ah, consider the age that every day on which I did not see you has +seemed to me, and the time would hardly come within your powers of +computation. Suzette, be merciful! say you love me, were it ever so +little. Were it only a love like a grain of mustard-seed, I know it +would grow into a wide and spreading tree by-and-by, and all the days +of my life would be happy under its shelter." + +"You would think me curiously inconsistent if I owned to loving you +after what I said the other day," faltered Suzette, looking down at the +flowers. + +"I should think you adorable." + +She was only serious for a moment, and then her natural gaiety +prevailed. + +"Do you know that my aunt lectured me severely when I confessed to +having refused your flattering offer?" + +"Did she really? How sweet of her! After that, you cannot refuse me +again. Your aunt would shut you up and feed you upon bread and water, +as fathers and mothers used to do with rebellious daughters in the +eighteenth century." + +"I hardly think she would treat me quite so ferociously for saying +'No;' but I think she would be pleased if I were to say 'Yes.'" + +"And that means yes, my love, my own!" he cried, in a rapture so swift +and sudden that he had clasped her to his breast and snatched the kiss +of betrothal before she could check his impulsiveness. "You are my +very own," he said, "and I am the happiest man in England. Yes, the +happiest----Did I say in England? What a contemptible notion! I cannot +conceive the idea that anywhere upon this earth there beats a human +heart so full of gladness as mine. Suzette, Suzette, Suzette!" he +repeated tenderly, with a kiss for each comma. + +"What a whirlwind you are!" she remonstrated. "And what a rag you are +making of my frock! Oh, Allan, how you have hurried me into this! And +even now I am not quite sure----" + +"You are sure that I adore you! What more need my wife be sure of? Oh, +my darling, I have seen wedlock where no love is--only affection and +trustfulness and kindly feeling--all the domestic virtues with love +left out! Dearest, such a union is like a picture to the colour-blind, +like music to the stone-deaf, like a landscape without sunlight. There +is nothing in this world like love, and nothing can make up for love +when love is wanting." + +"And nothing can make up for love when love is wanting," repeated +Suzette, suddenly serious. "Oh, Allan! what if I am not sure?--if I +doubt my own feelings?" + +"But you can't doubt. My dearest, I am reading the signs and tokens of +love in those eloquent eyes, in those sensitive lips, while you are +talking of doubt. There is no one else, is there, Suzette?" he asked, +with quick earnestness. "No one in the past whose image comes between +you and me?" + +"No one, no one." + +"In all your Indian experiences?" + +"No one." + +"Then I am more than satisfied. And now let us go and tell my mother. +She has been waiting for a daughter ever since I was born; and, behold, +at last I am giving her one, the sweetest her heart could desire." + +Suzette submitted, and walked by his side in silence while he went in +search of Lady Emily, whom he finally discovered in the poultry-yard +with Bessie Edgefield. Allan's elated air and Suzette's blushes were a +sufficient indication of what had happened; and when mother and son had +clasped hands and looked at each other there was no need of words. Lady +Emily took the girl to her heart and kissed her. + +"I hope your father will be pleased, Suzette." + +"I don't think he will be sorry." + +"And I know Mrs. Mornington will be glad. Allan has her consent in +advance." + +"Auntie is a very silly woman," said Suzette, laughingly. And then she +had to endure Bessie Edgefield's congratulations, which were of the +boisterous kind. + +"Of course you will let me be bridesmaid," she said, with that vulgar, +practical view of things which wounds the sensitiveness of the newly +betrothed almost as much as an estimate from a furniture dealer, or a +prospectus from an insurance office. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + "OUR DREAMS PURSUE OUR DEAD, AND DO NOT FIND." + + +Miss Vincent's engagement met with everybody's approval, with the one +exception of the marriageable young ladies of the neighbourhood, who +thought that Allan Carew had made a foolish choice, and might certainly +have done better for himself. What good could come of marrying a girl +who was neither English nor French; who had been educated in a Parisian +convent, and who drove to Salisbury every Sunday morning to hear mass? + +"What uncomfortable Sundays they will have!" one of these young ladies +remarked to Bessie Edgefield; "and then how horrid for him to have a +wife of a different creed! They are sure to quarrel about religion. +Isn't the Vicar dreadfully shocked?" + +"My father is rather sorry that Mr. Carew should marry a Roman +Catholic. There is always the fear that he might go over to Rome----" + +"Of course. He is sure to do that. It will be the only way to stop the +quarrelling. She will make him a pervert." + +Mrs. Mornington, on the other hand, flattered herself that, by her +marriage with a member of the English Church, her niece would be +brought to see the errors of Rome, and would very soon make her +appearance in the family pew beside her husband. + +Lady Emily cherished the same hope, since, although a less ardent +Churchwoman than Mrs. Mornington, she believed in Anglicanism as the +surest road to salvation, and she dwelt also upon the difficulties that +might arise by-and-by about the poor dear children, talking of those +potential beings as if they were already on the scene. + +The Roman Church was severe upon that question, and it would perhaps +be impossible for Suzette to be married in her own church unless her +husband would promise that their children should be baptized and +educated in the true faith. + +While other people were thinking about these things for him, Allan had +no room for thought of any kind, unless a lover's meditation upon the +image of the girl he loved could be dignified by the name of thought. +For Allan, life was a perpetual ecstasy. To be with Suzette in her own +home, at the Grove, on the links, anywhere--to be with her was all +he needed for bliss. For his sake, his mother had prolonged her stay +at Beechhurst, in order that the two young people might be together +in the house where they were to live as man and wife. It was Allan's +delight to make Suzette familiar with her future home. He wanted her +to feel that this was the house in which she was to live; that under +her father's roof she was no longer at home; that her books, her +bric-à-brac, the multifarious accumulations of a happy girlhood, +might as well be transferred at once to the sunny, bow-windowed +upstair room which was to be her den. It was now a plainly furnished, +matter-of-fact morning room, a room in which the Admiral had kept his +boots, cigar-boxes, and business documents, and transacted the fussy +futilities of his unoccupied life. The mantelpiece, which had been +built up with shelves and artful cupboards for the accommodation of +the Admiral's cigars, would serve excellently to set off Suzette's +zoological china; her Dresden pugs, and rats, and lobsters, and +pigs, and rabbits, her morsels of silver, and scraps of wrought +copper would adorn the shelves; and all her little odds and ends and +never-to-be-finished bits of fancy-work could be neatly stowed away in +the cupboards. + +"But won't you want those dear little cubby-houses for your own +cigars?" asked Suzette. "It seems too cruel to rob you of your uncle's +snuggery. I've no doubt you smoke just as much as the Admiral." + +"Not cigars. My humble pipe and pouch can stow themselves away +anywhere. I only smoke cigars out hunting, and I keep a box or two in +the saddle-room for handiness. No, this is to be your room, Suzette. I +have imagined you in it until it seems so to belong to you that I feel +I am taking a liberty in writing a letter here. When are you going to +bring the Dresden bow-wows, and the elephants, and mice, and lobsters, +and donkeys?--all about of a size, by the way." + +"Oh, I could not possibly spare them," Suzette answered quickly, making +for the door. + +They had come in to look at the room, and for Suzette to give her +opinion as to the colour and style of the new papering. It was to be a +Morris paper, although that would entail new carpet and curtains, and a +complete revolution as to colouring. + +"Spare them!" echoed Allan, detaining her. "Who wants you to spare +them? When will you bring them with you? When are you coming to take +possession of the house which is no home for me until you are mistress +of it?" + +This was by no means the first time the question had been asked. +Again and again had Allan pleaded that his marriage might be soon. +There was no reason why he should wait for his wife. His position +was established, his house was ready; a house as well found as that +flagship had been on whose quarter-deck the Admiral had moved as a +king. Why should he wait? He could never love his future wife more +dearly than he loved her now. All the framework of his life would be +out of gear till he had brought her home to the house which seemed +joyless and empty for want of her. + +"When is it to be, Suzette? When am I to be completely happy?" + +"What, are you not happy, _par exemple_? You talked about +overwhelming happiness when I said 'Yes.'" + +"That was the promise of happiness. It lifted me to the skies; but it +was only the promise. I am pining for the realization. I want you all +to myself--to have and to hold for ever and ever; beside my hearth; +interwoven with my life; mine always and always; no longer a bright, +capricious spirit, glancing about me like a gleam of sunshine, and +vanishing like the sunbeam; but a woman--my very own--of one mind and +of one heart with me. Suzette, if you love me, you will not spin out +the time of dreams; you will give yourself to me really and for ever." + +There was an earnestness in his tone that scared her. The blushes faded +from her cheeks, and she looked at him, pale and startled, and sudden +tears rushed to her eyes. + +"You said you would give me time," she faltered; "time to know +you better--to be certain." And then recovering her gaiety in an +instant--"Now, Allan, it is too bad of you. Did I not tell you that I +would not be married till my one-and-twentieth birthday? Why do you +tease me to alter the date? Surely you don't want to marry an infant." + +"And your birthday will be on the twenty-third of June," said Allan, +rather sullenly. "Nearly a year from now." + +"Nearly a year from October to June! What odd ideas you have about +arithmetic! And now I must run and find Lady Emily. We are going to +drive to Morton Towers together." + +Allan made way for her to pass, and followed her downstairs, vexed and +disheartened. His mother was to leave him next day; and then there +would be one house the less in which he and Suzette could meet--the +house which was to be their home. + +He had not visited Mrs. Wornock since her nocturnal perambulation, and +he had prevented his mother paying her a second visit, albeit the hope +of a white peacock and a certain interest in the widow's personality +had made Lady Emily anxious to call at the Manor. Allan had found +reasons for putting off any such call, without saying one disparaging +word about the lady. He had heard of Mrs. Wornock from Suzette, who +reproached him for going no more to Discombe. + +"I did not know you were so fickle," she said. "I really think you have +behaved abominably to poor Mrs. Wornock. She is always asking me why +you don't go to see her; and I am tired of inventing excuses." + +Suzette was at the Manor every other day. Mrs. Wornock was teaching her +to play the organ. + +"Is it not sweet of her?" she asked Allan. "And though I don't suppose +she ever gave any one a lesson in her life till she began to teach me, +she has the teaching gift in a marked degree. I love to learn of her. +I can play some simple things of Haydn's not altogether badly. Perhaps +you will do me the honour to come and hear me some day, when I have got +a little further." + +"I will go to hear you to-morrow, if I may." + +"What! Then you have no objection to Discombe in the abstract, though +you have cut poor Mrs. Wornock for the last six weeks?" + +"I was so much occupied with my mother." + +"And your mother wanted badly to call upon Mrs. Wornock, and you +always put a stumbling-block in her way. But I am happy to say Lady +Emily is to have the white peacock all the same. She is to have a pair +of birds. I have taken care of that." + +"Like a good and thoughtful daughter." + + * * * * * + +When Allan came back from the station, after seeing his mother safely +seated in the London train, he found a letter from Mrs. Wornock on the +hall table--a hand-delivered letter which had just arrived. It was +brief and to the point. + + "Why have you deserted me, Allan? Have I unconsciously offended + you, or is there no room in your heart for friendship as well as + love? I hear of your happiness from Suzette; but I want to see + you and your sweetheart roaming about the gardens here as in the + old days, before you were engaged lovers. Now that Lady Emily is + leaving Beechhurst, you will have time to spare for me." + +The letter seemed a reproach, and he felt that he deserved to be +reproached by her. How kind she had been, how sympathetic, how +interested in his love-story; and what an ingrate he must appear in her +eyes! + +He did not wait for the following morning and the music-lesson, lest +Mrs. Wornock should think he went to Discombe only on Suzette's +account. He set out immediately after reading that reproachful little +letter, and walked through the lanes and copses to the Manor House. + +It was four o'clock when he arrived, and Mrs. Wornock was at home and +alone. The swelling tones of that wonderful organ answered his question +on the threshold. No beginner could play with that broad, strong +touch, which gave grandeur to the simple phrases of an "Agnus Dei" by +Palestrina. + +She started up as Allan was announced, and went quickly to meet him, +giving him both her hands. + +"This is so good of you," she exclaimed. + +"Then you are not offended, and you have forgiven me?" + +"My dear Mrs. Wornock, why should I be offended? I have received +nothing but kindness from you." + +"I thought you might be angry with me for refusing the invitation to +your luncheon-party." + +"It would have been very impertinent of me to be angry, when I know +what a recluse you are." + +"It is a month since you were here--a whole calendar month. Why didn't +you bring Lady Emily to see me? But perhaps she did not wish to come. +Was that so?" + +"No, Mrs. Wornock," he answered coldly. "My mother wished to call upon +you." + +"And you prevented her?" + +"Yes." + +"Why did you do that?" + +"Dare I be frank with you?" + +"Yes, yes, yes! You cannot be too frank. I love you, Allan. Always +remember that. You are to me as a second son." + +Her warmth startled and scared him. His face flushed hotly, and he +stood before her in mute embarrassment. If the secret of the past +was indeed the guilty secret which he had suspected, there was utter +shamelessness in this speech of hers. + +"Allan, why are you silent?" + +"Because there are some things that can hardly be said; least of all by +a man of my age to a woman of yours." + +"There is nothing that you can say to me, Allan, about myself or my +regard for you, that can bring a blush to my face or to yours. There is +nothing in my life of which I need be ashamed in your sight or in the +sight of my son." + +"Forgive me, forgive me, if my secret thoughts have sometimes wronged +you. There has been so much to surprise and mystify me. Your agitation +on hearing my father's name; your painful embarrassment when I brought +my mother here; and last, and most of all, your secret visit to +Beechhurst when my father was there." + +"What! you know of that?" + +"Yes; I saw your face at the open window, looking in at him." + +She clasped her hands, and there were tears in her eyes. + +"Yes," she faltered, after a silence of some moments, "I was looking +at the face I had not seen for nearly thirty years--the face that +looked at me like a ghost from the past, and had no knowledge of me, +no care for me. I knew--I have known in all these years that George +Beresford was to be looked for among the living. I have sought for +him in the spirit-world, again and again and again, in long days and +nights of waiting, in my dreams, in long, far-reaching thoughts that +have carried my soul away from this dull earth; but there was no +answer--not a thought, not a breath out of that unseen world where my +spirit would have touched his had he died while he was young, and while +he still loved me. But he lived, and grew old like me, and found a new +love, and so we are as wide apart as if we had never met. I stood in +the darkness outside your window for nearly an hour, looking at him, +listening to his voice when he spoke--the dear, kind voice! _That_ +was not changed." + +"It is true, then? You knew and loved my father years ago?" + +"Yes, knew him and loved him, and would have been his wife if it had +been for his happiness to marry me. Think of that, Allan! I was to have +been his wife, and I gave him up for his own sake." + +"Why did you do that? Why should you not have married him?" + +"Because I was only a poor girl, and he was a gentleman--the only son +of a rich widow, and his mother would never have forgiven him for such +a marriage. I knew nothing of that when he asked me to be his wife. I +only knew that we loved each other truly and dearly. But just before +the day that was to have been our wedding-day his mother came to me, +and told me that if I persisted in marrying him I should be the bane of +his life. It would be social extinction for him to marry me. Social +extinction! I remember those words, though I hardly knew then what they +meant. I was not eighteen, Allan, and I knew less of the world than +many children of eight. But I did not give up my happiness without a +struggle. There was strong persuasion brought to bear upon me; and at +last I yielded--for his sake." + +"And blighted his life!" exclaimed Allan. "My mother is the best of +women, and the best and kindest of wives; but I have always known +that my father's marriage was a loveless marriage. Well," he went on, +recovering himself quickly, apprehensive lest he should lower his +mother's dignity by revealing too much, "you acted generously, and no +doubt for the best, in making that sacrifice, and all has worked round +well. You married a good man, and secured a position of more importance +than my father's smaller means could have given you." + +"Position! means!" she repeated, in bitterest scorn. "Oh, Allan, don't +think so poorly of me as to suppose that it was Mr. Wornock's wealth +which attracted me. I married him because he was kind and sympathetic +and good to me in my loneliness--a pupil at a German conservatoire, +living with stony-hearted people, who only cared for me to the extent +of the money that was paid for my board and lodging, and who were +always saying hard things to me because they had agreed to take me so +cheaply--too cheaply, they said. I used to feel as if I were cheating +them when I sat at their wretched meals, and I was thankful that I had +a wretched appetite." + +"You were cruelly used, dear Mrs. Wornock. I can just remember my +grandmother, and I know she was a hard woman. She had no right to +interfere with her son's disposal of his life." + +"No, she had no right. If I had known even as much of the world as I +know now, when Miss Marjorum--Mrs. Beresford's messenger--came to me, +I would have acted differently. I know now that a gentleman need not +be ashamed of marrying a penniless girl if there is nothing against +her but her poverty; but then I believed what Miss Marjorum told +me--believed that I should blight the life of the man who loved me with +such generous self-sacrificing love. Why should he alone be generous, +and I selfish and indifferent to his welfare?" + +"But how did he suffer you to sacrifice yourself at his mother's +bidding?" + +"He had no power to stop me. It was all settled without his knowledge. +I hope he was not very sorry--dear, dear George!--so generous, so true, +so noble. Oh, how I loved him--how I have loved him--all my life, +all my life! My husband knew that I had no heart to give him--that I +could be his obedient wife--but that I could never love him as I had +loved----" + +Again her sobs choked her speech. She threw herself into a chair and +abandoned herself to that passionate grief. + +"Dear Mrs. Wornock, forgive me for having revived these sorrowful +memories. I was wrong--I ought not to have spoken----" + +"No, no, there is nothing to forgive. It does me good to talk of the +past--with you, Allan, with you, not with any one else. And now you +know why my heart went out to you from the first. Why you are to me +almost as a son--almost as dear as my own son--and your future wife +as my daughter. It does me good to talk to you of that time--so long +and long ago. It does me good to talk of my dead self. I have never +forgotten. The past has always been dearer to me than anything in this +life that came afterwards." + +"I do not think my father has forgotten that past, any more than you +have, Mrs. Wornock. I know that there has always been a cloud over his +life--the shadow of one sad memory. I have felt and understood this, +without knowing whence the shadow came." + +"He was too true-hearted to forget easily," Mrs. Wornock said, gently, +"and we were both so young. I was his first love, as he was mine. And +when a first love is pure and strong as ours was, it must be first and +last, must it not, Allan?" + +"Yes," he answered, half doubtfully, remembering certain sketchy loves +of his own, and hoping that they could hardly be ranked as love, so +that he might believe that his passion for Suzette was essentially the +first; essentially, if not actually. + +"No, I have never forgotten," Mrs. Wornock repeated musingly, seating +herself at the piano, and softly touching the notes now and then, +playing a few bars of pensive melody sotto voce as she talked--now a +phrase from an Adagio of Beethoven's, now a resolution from a prelude +by Bach, dropping gravely down into the bass with softly repetitive +phrases, from piano to pianissimo, melting into silence like a sigh. +"No, I have never forgotten--and I have suffered from the pains as well +as the pleasures of memory. Before my son was born, and after, there +was a long interval of darkness when I lived only in the past, when the +shadows of the past were more real to me than the living things of the +present, when my husband's face was dim and distant, and that dear face +from the past was always near me, with the kind smile that comforted +me in my desolate youth. Yes, I loved him, Allan, loved him, and gave +him up for his own sake. And now you tell me my sacrifice was useless; +that, even with the wife his mother chose for him, the good amiable +wife, he has not been altogether happy." + +"His life has been placid, studious, kindly, and useful. It may be that +he was best fitted for that calm, secluded life--it may be that if you +had taken the more natural and the more selfish course--and in so doing +parted him for ever from his mother, who was a proud woman, capable of +lifelong resentment--it may be that remorse might have blighted his +life, and that even your love would not have consoled him under the +conviction that he had broken his mother's heart. I know that, after +her strong-minded masterful fashion, she adored him. He was all she +had in this world to love or care for; and it is quite possible that +a lasting quarrel with him might have killed her. Dear Mrs. Wornock, +pray do not think that your sacrifice was altogether in vain. No such +self-surrender as that can be without some good fruit. I do not pretend +to be a holy person, but I do believe in the power of goodness. And, +consider, dear friend, your life has not been all unhappy. You had a +kind and good husband." + +"Good! He was more than good, and for over a year of our married life +I was a burden to him. He was an exile from the home he loved, for my +sake--for me, who ought to have brightened his home for him." + +"But that was only a dark interval," said Allan, remembering what Mrs. +Mornington had told him, of the long residence at Grindelwald, and +the birth of the heir in that remote spot. "There were happier days +afterwards." + +"Yes, we had a few peaceful years here, before death took him from me, +and while our boy was growing in strength and beauty." + +"And in these long years of widowhood music has been your comforter. In +your devotion to art you have lived the higher life." + +"Yes," she answered, with an inspired look, striking a triumphant +chord, "music has been my comforter--music has conjured back my dead +father, my lost lover. Music has been my life and my hope." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE MASTER OF DISCOMBE. + + +Mrs. Wornock's frank revelation of her girlish love and self-sacrifice +lifted a burden from Allan's heart and mind. He had been interested in +her, and attracted towards her from that first summer noontide when +he studied her thoughtful face in the village church, and when he +lingered among the villagers' graves to hear her play. His sympathy had +grown with every hour he spent in her society, and he had been deeply +grateful for the friendship which had so cordially included him and the +girl he loved. It had been very painful to him to believe that this +sweet-mannered woman belonged to the fallen ones of the earth, that her +graces were the graces of a Magdalen, most painful to think that she +was no fitting companion for the girl who had so readily responded to +her friendly advances. + +The cloud was lifted now, and he felt ashamed of all his past doubts +and suspicions. He respected Mrs. Wornock for her refusal to meet his +father in the beaten way of friendship. He was touched by the devotion +which had brought her creeping to his windows under the cover of night +to look upon the face of her beloved. He resolved that he would do +all that in him lay to atone for the wrong his thoughts had done her, +that he would be to her, indeed, as a second son, and that he would +cultivate her son's friendship in a brotherly spirit. + +He stopped in the corridor on the morning after that interview to +study the portrait of the young man whose likeness to himself had now +resolved itself into a psychological mystery, and he could but see that +it was a likeness of the mind rather than of the flesh, a resemblance +in character and expression far more than in actual lineaments. + +"He is vastly my superior in looks," thought Allan, as he studied +the lines of that boldly painted face. "He has his mother's finely +chiselled features, his mother's delicate colouring. There is a shade +of effeminacy, otherwise the face would be almost faultless. And to +mistake this face for that! Absurd!" muttered Allan, catching the +reflection of his sunburnt forehead, and strongly marked nose and chin, +in the Venetian glass that hung at right angles with the picture. + +He heard the organ while the butler paused with his hand on the door, +waiting to announce the visitor. The simpler music, the weaker touch, +told him that the pupil was playing. + +"Please don't stop," he cried, as he went in; "I want to hear if the +pupil is worthy of her mistress." + +Mrs. Wornock came to meet him, and Suzette went on playing, with only a +smile and a nod to her sweetheart. + +"She is getting on capitally. She has a real delight in music," +announced Mrs. Wornock. + +"How happy you are looking this morning!" + +"I have had good news. My son is on his way home." + +"I congratulate you." + +"He is coming home for his long leave. I shall have him for nearly a +year." + +"How happy you will be! I have just been studying his portrait." + +"You are so like him." + +"Oh, only a rough copy--a charcoal sketch on coarse paper,--nothing to +boast of," said Allan, with a curious laugh. + +He was watching Suzette, to see if she were interested in the expected +arrival. She played on, her eyes intent alternately upon the page of +music in front of her, and upon the stops which she was learning to +use. There was no stumbling in the notes, or halting in the time. She +played the simple legato passages smoothly and carefully, and seemed to +pay no heed to their talk. + +Allan would have been less than human, perhaps, if his first thought on +hearing of Geoffrey's return had not been of the influence he might +exercise upon Suzette--whether in him she would recognize the superior +and more attractive personality. + +"No," he thought, ashamed of that jealous fear which was so quick to +foresee a rival, "Suzette has given me her heart, and it must be my +own fault if I can't keep it. Women are our superiors, at least in +this, that they are not so easily caught by the modelling of a face, +or the rich tones of a complexion. And shall I think so meanly of my +sweet Suzette as to suppose that my happiness is in danger because some +one more attractive than myself appears upon the scene? When we spend +our first season in London as man and wife, she will have to run the +gauntlet of all the agreeable men in town, soldiers and sailors, actors +and painters, ingenuous young adorers and hoary-headed flatterers. The +whole army of Satan that maketh war upon innocence and beauty. No, I am +not afraid. She has a fine brain and a noble heart. She is not the kind +of woman to jilt a lover or betray a husband. I am safe in loving her." + +He had need to comfort himself, for the hour of trial was nearer than +he thought. + +He went to Discombe before luncheon on the morning after he had heard +of Geoffrey's return. He went expecting to find Suzette at the organ, +and to hear the latter part of the lesson. He was not a connoisseur, +but he loved music well enough to love to hear his sweetheart play, and +to be able to distinguish every stage of progress in her performance. +To-day, however, the organ was silent; the youth who blew the bellows +was chasing a wasp in the corridor, and the room into which Allan was +ushered was empty. + +"The ladies are in the garden, sir," said the butler. "Shall I tell my +mistress that you are here?" + +"No, thanks, I'll go and look for the ladies." + +The autumn morning was bright and mild, and one of the French windows +was open. + +Allan hurried out to the garden, and looked down the cypress avenue. +The long perspective of smooth-shaven lawn was empty. There was no one +loitering by the fountain. They were in the summer-house--the classic +temple where Mrs. Wornock had sunk into unconsciousness at the sound +of his father's name, where he had lived through the most embarrassing +experience of his life. + +He could distinguish Mrs. Wornock's black gown, and Suzette's +terra-cotta frock, a cloth frock from a Salisbury tailor, which he had +greatly admired. But there was another figure that puzzled him--an +unfamiliar figure in grey--a man's figure. + +Never had the grass walk seemed so long, or the temple so remote. +Yes, that third figure was decidedly masculine. There was no optical +delusion as to the sex of the stranger--no petticoat hidden behind the +marble table. As he drew nearer he saw that the intruder was a young +man, sitting in a lounging attitude with his arms resting on the table, +and his shoulders leaning forward to bring him nearer to the two +ladies seated opposite. + +He felt that it would be undignified to run, but he walked so fast in +his eagerness to discover the identity of the interloper that he was in +an undignified perspiration when he arrived. + +"Allan, poor Allan, how you have been running!" exclaimed Suzette. + +"I was vexed with myself for losing the whole of your organ lesson," +said Allan, shaking hands with Mrs. Wornock, and gazing at the stranger +as at a ghost. + +Yes, it was Geoffrey Wornock. Even his hurried reflections during +that hurried walk had told Allan that it must be he, and none other. +No one else would be admitted to the familiarity of the garden and +summer-house. Mrs. Wornock had no casual visitors, no intimate friends, +except Suzette and himself. + +"There has been no organ lesson this morning, Allan," Mrs. Wornock +told him, her face radiant with happiness. "Suzette and I have been +surprised out of all sober occupations and ideas. This son of mine took +it into his head to come home nearly a fortnight before I expected him. +He arrived as suddenly as if he had dropped from the skies. He did not +even telegraph to be met at the station." + +"A telegram would have taken the bloom off the surprise, mother," said +the man in grey, standing up tall and straight, but slenderly built. + +Allan felt himself a coarse gladiatorial sort of person beside +this elegant and refined-looking young man. Nor was there anything +effeminate about that graceful figure to which an envious critic could +take exception. Soldiering had given that air of manliness which can +co-exist with slenderness and grace. + +"Geoffrey, this is Allan, of whom you know so much." + +"They tell me that you and I are very much alike, Mr. Carew," said +Geoffrey, with a pleasant laugh, "and my mother tells me that you and +I are to take kindly to each other, and in fact she expects to see +us by way of being adopted brothers. I don't quite know what that +means--whether we are to ride each other's horses, and make free with +each other's guns, or go halves in a yacht or a racehorse?" + +"I want you to like each other--to be real friends," said Mrs. Wornock, +earnestly. + +"Then don't say another word about it, mother. Friendship under that +kind of protecting influence rarely comes to any good; but I am quite +prepared to like Mr. Carew on his own account, and I hope he may be +able to like me on the same poor grounds." + +He had an airy way of dismissing the subject which set them all +at their ease, and steered them away from the rocks and shoals of +sentiment. Mrs. Wornock, who had been on the verge of weeping, smiled +again, and led Geoffrey off to look at the gardens, and all the +improvements which had been effected during his three years' absence, +leaving the lovers to follow or not as they pleased. + +The lovers stayed in the summer-house, feeling that mother and son +would like to be alone; and mother and son strolled on side by side, +looking like brother and sister. + +"My dearest," said Mrs. Wornock, tenderly, slipping her arm through +her son's directly they were really alone, and out of sight, in an +old flower-garden walled round by dense hedges of clipped ilex, a +garden laid out in a geometrical pattern, and with narrow gravel paths +intersecting the flower-beds. The glory of all gardens was over. There +were only a few lingering dahlias, and prim asters lifting up their +gaudy discs to the sun, and beds of marigolds of different shades, from +palest yellow to deepest orange. + +"My dearest, how glad I am to have you! I begin to live again now you +have come home." + +"And I am very glad to be at home, mother," answered her son, smiling +down upon her, fondly, protectingly, but with that light tone which +marked all he said. "But it seems to me you have been very much alive +while I have been away, with this young man of yours who is almost an +adopted son." + +"My heart went out to him, Geoffrey, because of his likeness to you." + +"A dangerous precedent. You might meet half a dozen such likenesses in +a London season. It would hardly do for your heart to go out to them +all. You would be coming home with a large family--by adoption." + +"There is no fear of that. I don't go into society, and I don't think, +if I did, I should meet any one like Allan Carew." + +Geoffrey could but note the tenderness in her tone as she spoke Allan's +name. + +"And who is this double of mine, mother; and what is he, and how does +he come to be engaged to that dainty, dark-eyed girl?" + +"You like Suzette?" + +"Yes, I like her--she is a nice, winning thing--not startlingly pretty; +but altogether nice. I like the way that dark silky hair of hers breaks +up into tiny curls about her forehead--and she has fine eyes----" + +"India has made you critical, Geoffrey." + +"Not India, but a native disposition, mother dearest. In India we +have often to put up with second best in the way of beauty, faded +carnations, tired eyes, hollow cheeks; but the young women have +generally plenty to say for themselves. They can talk, and they can +dance. They are educated for the marriage market before they are sent +out." + +His mother laughed, and hung on to his arm admiringly. In her opinion, +whatever he said was either wise or witty. All his impertinences were +graceful. His ignorance was better than other people's knowledge. + +"You have not neglected your violin, I hope, Geoffrey?" + +"No, mother. My good little Strad has been my friend and comrade in +many a quiet hour while the other fellows were at cards, or telling +stale stories. I shall be very glad to play the old de Beriot duets +again. Your fingers have not lost their cunning, I know." + +"I have played a great deal while you were away. I have had nothing +else to think about." + +"Except Allan Carew." + +"He has not made much difference. He comes and goes as he +likes--especially when Suzette is here. I sit at my organ or piano and +let them wander about and amuse themselves." + +"What an indulgent chaperon!" + +"I knew what the end must be, Geoffrey. I knew from the first that they +were in love with each other. At least I knew from the very first that +he was in love with her." + +"You were not so sure about the lady?" + +"A girl is too shy to let her feelings be read easily; but I could see +she liked his society. They used to roam about the garden together like +children. They were too happy not to be in love." + +"Does being in love mean happiness, mother? Don't you think there is a +middle state between indifference and passion--a cordial, comfortable, +sympathetic friendship which is far happier than love? It has no +cold fits of doubt, no hot fits of jealousy. From your account of +these young people, I question if they were ever really in love. Your +Carew looks essentially commonplace. I don't give him credit for much +imagination." + +"You will understand him better by-and-by, dearest." + +The mother was looking up at the newly regained son, admiring him, and +beginning to fancy that she had done him an injustice in thinking that +Allan resembled him. He was much handsomer than Allan, and there was +something picturesque and romantic in his countenance and bearing which +appealed to a woman's fancy; a look as of the Lovelaces and Dorsets of +old, the courtiers and soldiers who could write a love-song on the eve +of a bloody battle, or dance a minuet at midnight, and fight a duel at +dawn. His manner to his mother was playful and protecting. He had not +the air of thinking her the wisest of women, but no one could doubt +that he loved her. + +The summer-house was empty when they went back to it, and there was a +pencilled note on the marble table addressed to Mrs. Wornock. + + "Allan is going to see me home in time to give father his tiffin, + and I think you and Mr. Wornock will like to have the day to + yourselves. I shall come for my organ lesson to-morrow at eleven, + unless you tell me to stop away-- + + "Ever, dear Mrs. Wornock, your own + "SUZETTE." + +"Pretty tactful soul! Of course we want to be alone," said Geoffrey, +reading the note over his mother's shoulder. "First you shall give me +the best lunch that Discombe can provide; and then we will drive round +and look at everything. And we will devote the evening to de Beriot. I +must go up to town by an early train to-morrow." + +"Running away from me so soon, Geoffrey?" + +"Now, mother, it's base ingratitude to say that. I've hardly given +myself breathing time since I landed at Brindisi, because I wanted +to push home to you, first of the very first. I shall only be in +London a day or two. I want to see what kind of horses are being sold +at Tattersall's, and I may run down to look at the Belhus hunters. +Remember I haven't a horse to ride." + +"There are your old hunters, Geoffrey?" + +"Three dear old crocks. Admirable as pensioners, not to carry eleven +stone to hounds. No, mother, I'm afraid there's nothing in your stables +that will be good for more than a cover-hack." + +Mrs. Wornock sighed faintly in the midst of her bliss. She had a +womanly horror of hunting and all its perils, and in her heart of +hearts was always on the side of the fox; but she knew that without +hunting and shooting Discombe Manor would very soon pall upon +her son, dilettante and Jack-of-all-trades though he was. Music +alone--passionately as he loved it--would not keep him contented. + +Allan and Suzette strolled home under the bright blue sky. These +late days in October were the Indian summer of the year, a season in +which it was a joy to live, especially in a land where the smoke from +domestic hearths curling upward here and there in silvery wreaths from +wood fires, only suggested homeliness and warmth, not filth and fog. +They sauntered slowly homeward through the rustic lanes, and their talk +was naturally of the new arrival. + +"Is he the kind of young man you expected him to be?" asked Suzette. + +There was no occasion to be more specific in one's mention of +_him_. There could but be one young man in their thoughts to-day. + +"I don't know that I had formed any expectations about him." + +"Oh, Allan, that can't be true! You must have thought about him, after +everybody telling you of the likeness. Remember what you told me in our +very first dance--how dreadfully bored you had been about him, and how +glad you were that I didn't know him." + +"My being bored--and I was horribly--was no reason why my imagination +should dwell upon him. If I thought of him at all, I thought of him +just as he is--the image of his portrait by Millais--and a very +good-looking and well set-up young man--so much better looking than my +humble self, that I wonder at any one's seeing a likeness between the +two faces." + +"Is he better looking, Allan? I know I like your face best." + +"I'm glad of that, since you will have to put up with my face for a +lifelong companion." + +"Allan, how grumpily you said that." + +"Did I, Suzie? I'm afraid I'm a brute. I am beginning to find out +disagreeable depths in my character." + +She looked at him with a puzzled air--so sweetly innocent, so free from +any backward-reaching thought--that made him happy again. He took up +the little hand hanging loose at her side and kissed it. + +"Let us drop in upon Aunt Mornington, and ask her for lunch," he said +as they came within sight of the Grove. "I don't feel like parting with +you just yet, Suzie." + +"Quite impossible. I must be at home for father's tiffin." + +"I forgot that sacred institution. Well, Suzie, do you think it's +possible the General might ask me to share that important meal if he +saw me hanging about? We could go to the links afterwards, so that you +might have the pleasure of seeing how wildly I can beat the air?" + +Suzie laughed her assent to this proposition, and General Vincent, +overtaking them five minutes afterwards on his useful hack, sustained +an Anglo-Indian's reputation for hospitality by immediately inviting +Allan to luncheon. + + + END OF VOL. I. + + LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. + + [Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphens left as printed.] + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75173 *** diff --git a/75173-h/75173-h.htm b/75173-h/75173-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35d81c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/75173-h/75173-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5630 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Sons of Fire, Volume 1 | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +x-ebookmaker-drop {display: none;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +div.titlepage { + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; +} + +div.titlepage p { + text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; + margin-top: 3em; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdc {text-align: center;} + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} + +.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph1 { font-size: x-large; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph2 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph3 { text-align: right; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph3 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + +.ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } +.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75173 ***</div> + +<div class="titlepage"> + +<h1>SONS OF FIRE</h1> + +<p>A Novel</p> + +<p class="ph1">By Mary Elizabeth Braddon</p> + +<p>THE AUTHOR OF</p> + +<p>"LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," "VIXEN,"<br> +"ISHMAEL," ETC.</p> + + +<p><i>IN THREE VOLUMES</i></p> + +<p>VOL. I.</p> + +<p>LONDON<br> +SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO. LIMITED<br> +STATIONERS' HALL COURT</p> + +<p>[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> + +<p>LONDON:<br> +PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,<br> +STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.</p> + + +</div> + +<hr class="chap"> + +<h2>CONTENTS OF VOL. I.</h2> + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">A STRIKING LIKENESS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">ALLAN CAREW'S PEOPLE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">"A HOME OF ANCIENT PEACE"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">"IN THE ALL-GOLDEN AFTERNOON"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">MORE NEW-COMERS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">LIKE THE MOTH TO THE FLAME</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">"O THE RARE SPRING-TIME!"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">NOT YET</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">"SO GREW MY OWN SMALL LIFE COMPLETE"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">"OUR DREAMS PURSUE OUR DEAD, AND DO NOT FIND"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td> <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">THE MASTER OF DISCOMBE</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap"> + + +<h2>SONS OF FIRE.</h2> + + + +<hr class="chap"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">A STRIKING LIKENESS.</p> + + +<p>The meet was at the Pig and Whistle, at Melbury, nine miles off. Rather +a near meet—compared with the usual appointments of the South Sarum +hounds—the ostler remarked, as Allan Carew mounted a hired hunter in +the yard of the Duke's Head, chief, and indeed only possible inn for a +gentleman to put up at, in the little village of Matcham, a small but +prosperous hamlet, lying in a hollow of the hills between Salisbury +and Andover. He had only arrived on the previous afternoon, and he was +sallying forth in the crisp March morning, on an unknown horse in an +unfamiliar country, to hunt with a pack whose master's name he had +heard for the first time that day.</p> + +<p>"Can he jump?" asked Allan, as he scrutinized the lean, upstanding +bay; not a bad kind of horse by any means, but with that shabby, +under-groomed and over-worked appearance common to hirelings.</p> + +<p>"Can't he, sir? There ain't a better lepper in Wiltshire. And as +clever as a cat! We had a lady staying here in the winter, Mrs. +Colonel Parkyn, brought two 'acks of her own, besides the colonel's +two 'unters, and liked this here horse better than any of 'em. She was +right down mashed on him, as the young gents say."</p> + +<p>"I wonder she didn't buy him," said Allan.</p> + +<p>"She couldn't, sir. Money wouldn't buy such a hunter as this off my +master. He's a fortune to us."</p> + +<p>"I hope I may be of Mrs. Parkyn's opinion when I come home," said +Allan. "Now then, ostler, just tell me which way I am to ride to get to +the Pig and Whistle by eleven o'clock."</p> + +<p>The ostler gave elaborate instructions. A public-house here, an +accommodation lane there—a common to cross—a copse to skirt—three +villages—one church—a post-office—and several cross-roads.</p> + +<p>"You're safe to fall in with company before you get there," concluded +the ostler, whisking a bit of straw out of the bay's off hind hoof, and +eyeing him critically, previous to departure.</p> + +<p>"If I don't, I doubt if I ever shall get there," said Allan, as he rode +out of the yard.</p> + +<p>He was a stranger in Matcham, a "foreigner," as the villagers called +such alien visitors. He had never been in the village before, +knew nothing of its inhabitants or its surroundings, its customs, +ways, local prejudices, produce, trade, scandals, hates, loves, +subserviencies, gods, or devils. And yet henceforward he was to be +closely allied with Matcham, for a certain bachelor uncle had lately +died and left him a small estate within a mile of the village—a +relative with whom Allan Carew had held slightest commune, lunching or +dining with him perhaps once in a summer, at an old family hotel in +Albemarle Street, never honoured by so much as a hint at an invitation +to his rural retreat, and not cherishing any expectation of a legacy, +much less the bequest of all the gentleman's worldly possessions, +comprising a snug, well-built house, in pretty and spacious grounds, +with good and ample stabling, and with farms and homesteads covering +something like fifteen hundred acres, and producing an income of a +little over two thousand a year.</p> + +<p>It need hardly be stated that Allan Carew was not a poor man when this +unexpected property fell into his lap.</p> + +<p>The children of this world are rarely false to the gospel precept—to +every one which hath shall be given. Allan's father had changed his +name, ten years before, from Beresford to Carew, upon his succession +to a respectable estate in Suffolk, an inheritance from his maternal +grandfather, old Squire Carew, of Fendyke Hall, Millfield.</p> + +<p>Allan, an only son, was not by any means ill provided for when his +maternal uncle, Admiral the Honourable Allan Darnleigh, took it into +his head to leave him his Wiltshire property; but this bequest raised +him at once to independence, and altogether dispensed with any further +care about that gentleman-like profession, the Bar, which had so far +repaid Mr. Carew's collegiate studies, labours, outlays, and solicitude +by fees amounting in all to seven pounds seven shillings, which sum +represented the gross earnings of three years.</p> + +<p>So, riding along the rustic high-road, in the clear morning air, under +a sapphire sky, just gently flecked with fleecy cloudlets, Allan Carew +told himself that it was a blessed escape to have done with chambers, +and reading law, and waiting for briefs; and that it was a good thing +to be a country gentleman; to have his own house and his own stable; +not to be obliged to ride another man's horses, even though that other +man were his very father; not to be told after every stiffish day +across country that he had done for the grey, or that the chestnut's +legs had filled as never horse's legs filled before, nor to hear any +other reproachful utterances of an old and privileged stud-groom, who +knew the horses he rode were not his own property. Henceforth his +stable would be his own kingdom, and he would reign there absolute and +unquestioned. He could choose his own horses, and they should be good +ones. He naturally shared the common creed of sons, and looked upon +all animals of his father's buying as "screws" and "duffers." His own +stables would be something altogether different from the drowsy old +stables at home, where horses were kept and cherished because they were +familiar friends, rather than with a view to locomotion. His stud and +his stable should be as different as if horses and grooms had been bred +upon another planet.</p> + +<p>He loved field-sports. He felt that it was in him to make a model +squire, albeit two thousand a year was not a large revenue in these +days of elegant living and Continental holidays, and eclectic tastes. +He felt that among his numerous nephews, old Admiral Darnleigh had +made a wise selection in choosing his god-son, Allan Carew, to inherit +his Wiltshire estate. He meant to be prudent and economical. He had +spent the previous afternoon in a leisurely inspection of Beechhurst. +He had gone over house and stables, and had found all things so well +planned, and in such perfect order, that he was assailed by none of +those temptations to pull down and to build, to alter and to improve, +which often inaugurate ruin in the very dawn of possession. He thought +he might build two or three loose boxes on one side of the spacious +stable-yard. There were two packs within easy reach of Matcham, to say +nothing of packs accessible by rail, and he would naturally want more +hunters than had sufficed for the old sailor, who had jogged out on his +clever cob two or three times a week, and had gone home early, after +artful riding and waiting about the lanes, or to leeward of the great +bare hills, and in snug corners, where a profound knowledge of the +country enabled him to make sure of the hounds. Allan's hunting-stable +would be on a very different footing; and although Beechhurst provided +ample accommodation for a stud of eight, Allan told himself that one of +his first duties would be to build loose boxes.</p> + +<p>"I shall often have to put up a couple of horses for a friend," he +thought.</p> + +<p>The morning was lovely, more like April than March. The bay trotted +along complacently, neither lazy nor feverishly active, but with an air +of knowing what he had to do for his day's wage, and meaning honestly +to do it. Allan was glad that his road took him past Beechhurst. +Possession had still all the charm of novelty. His heart thrilled with +pride as he slackened his pace to gaze fondly at the pretty white +house, low and long, with a verandah running all along the southern +front, admirably placed upon a gentle elevation, against the swelling +shoulder of a broad down, facing south-west, and looking over garden +and shrubbery, and across a stretch of common, that lay between +Beechhurst and the high-road, and gave a dignified aloofness to the +situation; seclusion without dulness, a house and grounds remote, but +not buried or hidden.</p> + +<p>"Nothing manorial about it," mused Allan; "but it certainly looks a +gentleman's place."</p> + +<p>He would naturally have preferred something less essentially modern. He +would have liked Tudor chimneys, panelled walls, and a family ghost. +He would have liked to know that his race had taken deep root in the +soil, had been lords of the manor centuries and centuries ago, when +Wamba was keeping pigs in the woods, and when the jester's bells mixed +with the merry music of hawk and hound. Admiral Darnleigh, so far as +Wiltshire was concerned, had been a new man. He had made his money in +China, speculating in tea-gardens, and other property, while pursuing +his naval career with considerable distinction. He had retired from +active service soon after the Chinese war, a C.B. and a rich man, had +bought Beechhurst a bargain—during a period of depression—and had +settled down in yonder pretty white house, with a small but admirable +establishment, each member thereof a pearl of price among servants, +and had there spent the tranquil even-tide of an honourable and +consistently selfish life. He had never married. As a single man, he +had always felt himself rich; as a married man he might often have +felt himself poor. He had heard Allan at five and twenty declare that +he had done with the romance of life, and that he, too, meant to be a +bachelor; and it may be that this boyish assertion, carelessly made +over a bottle of Lafitte, did in some measure influence the Admiral's +choice of an heir.</p> + +<p>Allan's father and mother were of a more liberal mind.</p> + +<p>"You are in a better position than your father was at your age," said +Lady Emily Carew, on her son's accession to fortune. "I hope you will +marry well—and soon."</p> + +<p>There was no thought of woman's love, or of married bliss, in Allan +Carew's mind, as he rode through the lanes and over a common, and +across a broad stretch of open down to the Pig and Whistle. He was +full, not of his inner self, but of the outer world around and about +him, pleased with the pleasant country in which his lot was cast, +wondering what his new neighbours were like, and how they would receive +him.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether the South Sarum is a hospitable hunt, or whether the +members are a surly lot, and look upon every stranger as a sponge and +an interloper," he mused.</p> + +<p>He had ridden alone for about half the way, when a man in grey fustian +and leather gaiters, who looked like a small tenant farmer, trotted +past him, turned and stared at him with obvious astonishment, touched +his hat and rode on, after a few words of greeting, which were lost in +the clatter of hoofs.</p> + +<p>He had ridden right so far by the aid of memory; he now followed +the man in grey, and, taking care to keep this pioneer in view, +duly arrived at a small rustic inn, standing upon high ground, and +overlooking an undulating sweep of woodland and common, marsh and +plain, one of those picturesque oases which diversify the breadth of +wind-swept downs. The inn was an isolated building, the few labourers' +cottages within reach being hidden by a turn of the road.</p> + +<p>Hounds and hunt-servants were clustered on a level green on the other +side of the road, but there was no one else upon the ground.</p> + +<p>Allan looked at his watch, and found that it was ten minutes to eleven.</p> + +<p>The man in grey had dismounted from his serviceable cob, and was +standing on the greensward, talking to the huntsman. Huntsman and whips +had taken off their caps to Allan as he rode up, and it seemed to +him that there was at once more respect and more friendliness in the +salutation than a stranger usually receives—above all a stranger in +heather cloth and butcher boots, and not in the orthodox pink and tops. +The man in grey, and the hunt-servants, were evidently talking of him +as he sat solitary in front of the inn. Their furtive glances in his +direction fully indicated that he was the subject of their discourse.</p> + +<p>"They take a curious interest in strangers in these parts," thought +Allan.</p> + +<p>Two minutes afterwards, a stout man, with a weather-beaten red face +showing above a weather-beaten red coat, rode up with two other men. +Evidently the master and his satellites.</p> + +<p>"Hulloa!" cried the jovial man, "what the deuce brings you back so much +sooner than Mrs. Wornock expected you? She told me there was no chance +of our seeing you for the next year. When did you arrive? I never heard +a word about it."</p> + +<p>The master's broad doeskin palm was extended to Allan in the most +cordial way, and the master's broad red face irradiated kindliest +feelings.</p> + +<p>"You are under a misapprehension, sir," said Allan, smiling at the +frank, friendly face, amused at the eager rapidity of speech which had +made it impossible for him to interrupt the speaker. "I have never yet +enjoyed the privilege of a day with the South Sarum, and this is my +first appearance in your neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"And you ain't Geoffrey Wornock," exclaimed the master, utterly +discomfited.</p> + +<p>"My name is Carew."</p> + +<p>"Ah, your voice is different. I should have known you were not Geoff if +I had heard you speak. And now, of course, when one looks deliberately, +there is a difference—a difference which would be more marked, I dare +say, if Wornock were here. Are you a relation of Wornock's?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard the name of Wornock in my life until I heard it from +you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm—dashed," cried the master, suppressing a stronger word as +premature so early in the day. "Did you see the likeness, Champion?" +asked the master, appealing to one of his satellites.</p> + +<p>"Of course I did," replied Captain Champion. "I was just as much +under a delusion as you were—and yet—Mr. Carew's features are not +the same as Wornock's—and his eyes are a different colour. It's the +outlook, the expression, the character in the face that is so like our +friend's—and I think that kind of likeness impresses one more than +mere form and outline."</p> + +<p>"Hang me if I know anything about it, except that I took one man for +the other," said the master, bluntly. "Well, Mr. Carew, I hope you will +excuse my blunder, and that we may be able to show you some sport on +your first day in our country. We'll draw Wellout's Wood, Hamper, and +if we don't find there we'll go on to Holiday Hill."</p> + +<p>Hounds and servants went off merrily across the down, and dipped into +a winding lane. A good many horsemen had ridden up by this time, with +half a dozen ladies among them. Some skirmished across the fields, +others crowded the lane, and in this latter contingent rode the master, +with his hounds in front of him, and Carew at his side.</p> + +<p>"Are you staying in the neighbourhood?" he asked; "or did you come by +rail this morning? A long ride from Matcham Road station, if you did."</p> + +<p>"I am staying at the Duke's Head, at Matcham; but I only arrived +yesterday. I am going to settle in your neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Have you bought a place?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Ah, going to rent one. Wiser, perhaps, till you see how you like this +part of the country."</p> + +<p>"I have had a place left me by my uncle, Admiral Darnleigh."</p> + +<p>"What! are you Darnleigh's heir? Yes, by-the-by, I heard that +Beechhurst was left to a Mr. Carew; but I've a bad memory for names. +So you have got Beechhurst, have you? I congratulate you. A charming +place, compact, snug, warm, and in perfect order. Stables a trifle +small, perhaps, for a hunting man."</p> + +<p>"I am going to extend them," said Allan, with suppressed pride.</p> + +<p>"Then you are going to do the right thing, sir. The only part in +which Beechhurst falls short of perfection is in the stables. Capital +stables, as far as they go, but it isn't far enough for a man who wants +to hunt five days a week, and accommodate his hunting friends. Besides, +the owner of Beechhurst ought to be in a position to take the hounds at +a push."</p> + +<p>"I hope it may be long before that push comes," said Allan.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're very kind; but I'm not so young as I was once, nor so rich +as I was once—and—the Preacher says there's a time for all things. My +time is very nearly past, and your time is coming, Mr. Carew. When do +you establish yourself at Beechhurst?"</p> + +<p>"I am going back to London to-morrow to settle a few matters, and +perhaps have a look round at Tattersall's, and I hope to be at +Beechhurst in less than a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"I shall do myself the pleasure of calling upon you. Any wife?"</p> + +<p>"I am still in the enviable position my uncle enjoyed till his death."</p> + +<p>"A bachelor? Ah! that won't last long. It's all very well for a +sun-dried old sailor to keep the fair sex at arm's length; but +<i>you</i> won't be able to do it, Mr. Carew. I give you till our +next hunt-ball for a free man. You've no notion what complexions our +Wiltshire women have—Devon can't beat 'em—or what a lot of pretty +girls there are within a fifteen-mile drive of Matcham."</p> + +<p>"I look forward with a thrill of mingled rapture and apprehension to +your next hunt-ball."</p> + +<p>"It'll be here before you know where you are. We have postponed it till +the first of May. We shall kill our May fox on the thirtieth of April, +and dance on his grave on the first."</p> + +<p>"I shall be there, my lord," said Allan, as Lord Hambury galloped off +after his huntsman, who had just put the hounds into the covert.</p> + +<p>A whimper proclaimed that there was something on foot, five minutes +afterwards, and the business of the day began—a goodish day, and a +long one—two foxes run to earth, and one killed in the twilight. It +was seven o'clock when Allan Carew arrived at the Duke's Head, hungry +and thirsty, and not a little bored by having been obliged to explain +to various people that he was no relation to Geoffrey Wornock.</p> + +<p>He had been too much bored at this enforced reiteration to make any +inquiries about this double of his in the course of the day, or during +the long homeward ride; but when he had taken the edge off his appetite +in his cosy sitting-room at the Duke's Head, he began to question the +waiter, as he trifled with the customary hotel tart, a hollow cavern of +short crust roofing in half a bottle of overgrown gooseberries.</p> + +<p>"Do you know Mr. Wornock?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; know him uncommonly well. Wonderful likeness between him and +you, sir; thought you was him till I heard you speak."</p> + +<p>"Our voices are different, I am told."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, there's a difference. It ain't much—but it's just enough to +make one doubtful like. Your voice, begging your pardon, sir, ain't as +musical as his. Mr. Wornock's is a voice that would charm a bird off a +tree, as the saying is. And then, after the first glance, one can see +it ain't the same face," pursued the waiter, thoughtfully. "You've got +such a look of him, you see, sir. That's what it is. One don't stop +to think of the shape of a nose or a chin. It's the look that catches +the eye. I suppose that's what people means by a speaking countenance, +sir," added the waiter, garrulous, but not disrespectful.</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Wornock any land in the county?" asked Allan.</p> + +<p>"Land, sir? Yes, sir," replied the waiter, with a touch of wonder at +being asked such a question. "Mr. Wornock is Lord of the Manor of +Discombe, sir—a very large estate—and a fine old house, added to by +Mr. Wornock's grandfather. The old part was built in the time of King +Charles, sir, and the new part is very fine and picturesque—and the +gardens are celebrated in these parts, sir—quite a show place—but +Mrs. Wornock never allows it to be shown. She lives very secluded, +don't give no entertainments herself, nor visit scarce anywheres. They +do say that she was not right in her mind for some years after Mr. +Wornock's birth, but that's six and twenty years ago, and there may not +be any truth in the report. Gongozorla, sir, or cheddar?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, thanks. Are the Wornocks an old family?"</p> + +<p>"Very old family, sir. Old Saxon name. Came over with Edward the +Confessor."</p> + +<p>"And who was Mrs. Wornock?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, there's a little 'itch there, sir. Nobody knows who Mrs. Wornock +was, or where she came from—and they do say she wasn't county, which +is a pity, seeing that the Wornocks had always married county prior to +that marriage," added the waiter, proud of his concluding phrase.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wornock is abroad, I understand. Where?"</p> + +<p>"Inja, sir. Cavalry regiment, the Eighteenth South Sarum Lancers."</p> + +<p>"Strange for a man owning so fine a property to go into the army."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, don't you see, the life at the Manor must have been a +very dull one for a young gentleman. No entertainments. No staying +company. Mrs. Wornock, she don't care for nothink but music—and, +after all, sir, music ain't everythink to a young man. He 'unted, and +he 'unted, and he 'unted, from the time he 'ad legs to cross a pony. +Wherever there was 'ounds to be follered, he follered 'em. But hunting +ain't everythink in life, and it don't last long," added the waiter, +philosophically.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wornock, as dowager, should have withdrawn to her Dower-house, +and left the young man free to be as jovial as he liked at the Manor."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that may come to pass when he marries, sir, but not before. +Mr. Wornock is a devoted son. He'd be the last to turn his mother +out-of-doors. And he's almost as keen on music as his mother, I've +heard say; plays the fiddle just like a professional—and the organ."</p> + +<p>"Well," sighed Carew, having heard all he wanted to hear, "I bear no +grudge against Mr. Geoffrey Wornock because he happens to resemble me; +but I wish with all my heart that he could have made it convenient to +live in any other neighbourhood than that in which my lot is cast. That +will do, waiter; I don't want any more wine. You may clear the table, +and bring me some tea at nine o'clock."</p> + +<p>The waiter cleared the table, in a leisurely way, made up the fire, +also in a leisurely way, and contrived to spend a quarter of an +hour upon work that might have been done in five minutes; but Allan +questioned him no further. He flung himself back in an easy-chair, +rested his slippered feet upon the fender, and meditated with closed +eyes.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was a bore, a decided bore, to have a double in the +neighbourhood. A double richer, more important, and altogether better +placed than himself; a double in a Lancer regiment—there is at once +chic and attractiveness in a cavalry soldier—a double who owned just +the fine old manorial estate, and fine old manorial mansion which he, +Allan, would have liked to possess.</p> + +<p>Beechhurst might be a snug little property; the house might be +perfection, as Lord Hambury had averred; but when a house of that +calibre is said to be perfect, the adjective rarely means anything more +than a good kitchen, and a convenient butler's pantry, roomy cellars, +and a well-planned staircase; whereas, to praise a fine old manor house +implies that it contains a panelled hall, and a spacious ballroom, a +library with a groined roof, and a music gallery in the dining-room. +After hearing of Wornock's old house, Allan felt that Beechhurst was +distinctly middle-class, and that his sailor uncle must have been +a poor creature to have found pride and pleasure in such a cockney +paradise.</p> + +<p>He jumped up out of his easy-chair, shook himself, and laughed aloud at +his own pettiness.</p> + +<p>"What an envious brute I am!" he said to himself. "I dare say, when +Wornock comes home, I shall find him a decent fellow, and we shall get +to be good friends. If we do, I'll tell him how I was gnawed with envy +of his better fortune before ever I saw his face."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">ALLAN CAREW'S PEOPLE.</p> + + +<p>Allan Carew spent the best part of the following day at Beechhurst, +better pleased with his inheritance than he would confess even to +himself. The Admiral's Chinese experiences had not been without +tangible result. The hall was decorated with curios whose value +their present possessor could only guess, and if the greater part +of the house was prim and commonplace, there was one room which +was both handsome and original—this was the smoking-room and +library, a spacious apartment which the Admiral had added to the +original structure, and which was built on the model of a Mandarin's +reception-room. Yes, on the whole, Allan was inclined to think his lot +had fallen on a pleasant heritage. He went up to town in good spirits; +spent ten days in looking at hunting studs at Tattersall's, and made +his modest selection with care and prudence, content to start his +stable with four good hunters, a dog-cart horse, a pony to fetch and +carry, two grooms and a stable-help.</p> + +<p>The all-important business of the stable concluded, he went back to +Suffolk to spend Easter in the bosom of his family, and to tell his +father what he had done. There was perfect harmony of feeling, and +frankest confidence between father and son, and the son's regard +for the father was all the stronger because, under that quiet and +somewhat languid bearing of the Squire of Fendyke, Allan suspected +hidden depths. Of the history of his father's youth, or the history +of his father's heart, the son knew nothing; yet, fondly as he loved +his mother, the excellent and popular Lady Emily, he had a shrewd +suspicion that she was not the kind of woman to have won his father's +heart in the days when love means romance rather than reason. That +she possessed her husband's warm affection now, he, the son, was +fully assured; but he was equally assured that the alliance had been +passionless, a union of two honourable minds, rather than of two loving +hearts.</p> + +<p>There was that in his father's manner of life which to Allan's mind +told of a youth overshadowed by some unhappy experience; and a word +dropped now and then, in the father's talk of his son's prospects and +hopes, a hint, a sigh, had suggested an unfortunate love-affair.</p> + +<p>His mother was more communicative, and had told her son frankly that +she was not his father's first love.</p> + +<p>"You remember your grandmother, Allan?" she said.</p> + +<p>Yes, Allan remembered her distinctly—an elderly woman dressed in some +rich silken fabric, always black, with a silver chatelaine at her side, +on which there hung a curious old enamelled watch that he loved to look +at. A tall slender figure, a thin aquiline countenance, with silvery +hair arrayed in feathery curls under a honiton cap. She had been always +kind to him; but no kindness could dispel the awe which she inspired.</p> + +<p>"I used to dream of her," he said. "Had she a frightening voice, do you +think? She was mixed up in most of my childish nightmares."</p> + +<p>"Poor Allan!" laughed his mother. "She was an excellent woman, but +she loved to command; and one can't command affection, not even the +affection of a child. It was she who made your father marry me. +He liked me, and I liked him, and we had been playfellows; but we +should never have thought of marrying if your grandmother had not, +in a manner, insisted upon it. She told George that I was deeply in +love with him; and she told me that George was devoted to me; and so +we could not help ourselves. And, after all," she went on, with a +comfortable sigh, "it has answered very well. I don't think we could +possibly be fonder of our home, or of each other, than we are. And +your father has his books, and his shooting and fishing, and I have my +farm and my schools—and," with a sudden gush of tenderness, "we both +have you. You ought to be fond of us, Allan. You are the link that +makes us one in heart and mind."</p> + +<p>Allan was fond of them. Both parents had been undeviating in their +indulgence, and he had given them love without stint. But it may be +that he loved the somewhat silent and reserved father with a profounder +affection than he gave to the open-hearted and loquacious mother. +That vague consciousness of a secret in his father's life, of sorrows +unforgotten, but never told, had evoked the son's warmest sympathy. All +that Allan had ever felt of sentiment or romantic feeling hitherto, he +had felt for his father. It is not to be supposed that he had reached +five and twenty without some commerce with Cupid, but his loves had +been only passing fancies, sunbeams glancing on the surface of life's +current, not those deep forces which change the course of the river.</p> + +<p>The characters of father and mother were distinctly marked in their +acceptance of Allan's good fortune. Lady Emily saw only the sunny +side of the inheritance. She was delighted that her son should have +ample means and perfect independence in the morning of life. She was +full of matrimonial schemes on his behalf. Decidedly he ought to +marry, well and quickly. An only son, with an estate in possession, +and another—his patrimonial estate—in prospective. It was his duty +to found a family. She marshalled all the young women she knew in a +mental review. There must be good family—a pure race, untarnished by +the taint of commerce, unshadowed by hushed-up disgrace—divorces, +bankruptcies, turf scandals. There should be money, because even the +two estates would not make Allan a rich man, as the world reckons +wealth nowadays; but they would give him a respectable platform from +which to demand the hand of an heiress. He could woo the wealthiest +without fear of being considered a fortune-hunter.</p> + +<p>"It is sad to think you will like your own place better than this," +said Lady Emily in her cheerfullest voice, "and that we shall hardly +see you except at Christmas and Easter; but it is so nice to know that +you are in a position to marry as early as you like without being under +any obligation to your father; for, indeed, dear, what with his library +and my farm, there would have been very little margin for a proper +establishment for you."</p> + +<p>"My dearest mother, why harp upon matrimony? I have made up my mind to +follow my uncle's excellent example."</p> + +<p>"My poor brother!" sighed Lady Emily. "He was in love with the belle +of the season—a foolish pink and white thing, with one long curl +streaming over her left shoulder, and a frock that you would laugh at, +if you could see her to-day. Of course Allan's chances were hopeless—a +younger son, with a commander's pay, eked out by a pittance from his +father. She used to ride in the Row with a plume in her hat—half a +Spanish fowl—quite the right thing, I assure you, at that time. +Your uncle was twelve years older than I, you know, Allan; and I was +still in short petticoats when he went off to China broken-hearted. +Of course she wouldn't have him, though she said he was the best +waltzer in London. Her people wouldn't let her look at him even, from a +matrimonial point of view."</p> + +<p>Allan went to church with his mother on Easter morning—attended two +services in the fine old church, which seemed much too grand and too +big for the tiny town—her loving heart swelling with pride at having +such an admirable son. Her friends had always been fond of him; but now +it seemed to her there was a touch of deference in their kindness. They +had liked him as <i>her</i> son, and the inheritor of Fendyke Hall; but +perhaps they liked him even a little better now that he was his own +master, a man of independent means.</p> + +<p>He accompanied Lady Emily in her weekly visit to the schools; he +assisted in dealing out Easter gifts to the school-children, and +distributed half a dozen pounds of the very strongest obtainable +tobacco among his male acquaintance in the village of Fendyke—a +village consisting of a rectory, three picturesque farmhouses, a still +more picturesque water-mill and miller's house, a roomy old barn-like +inn, said to have once given shelter to good Queen Bess, and a good +many decent cottages grouped in threes and fours along the broad, level +road, or scattered in side lanes.</p> + +<p>The morning of Easter Monday was given to an inspection of Lady +Emily's white farm—that farm which, next to her son, was the greatest +pride and delight of her innocent and strictly rural life. Here, +all buildings and all creatures were of an almost dazzling purity. +White horses at the plough, a white fox-terrier running beside it, +white birds in the poultry-yard, white cows in the meadow—cows from +Lord Cawdor's old white Pembroke breed, cows from Blickling Park and +Woodbastwick—white cottages for bailiff and farm-labourers, white +palings, white pigs, and white donkeys, a white peacock sunning +himself on the top of the clipped yew-hedge in the bailiff's garden, +white tulips, white hyacinths in the flower-beds. To procure all this +whiteness had cost trouble and money; but there are few home-farms +which give as much delight to their possessors as this white farm gave +to Lady Emily Carew. She had as much pride in its perfection as the +connoisseur who collects only Wedgwood, or only Florentine Majolica, +has in his collection. It is not so much the actual value of the thing +as the fact that the thing is unique, and has cost the possessor years +of patience and labour. Lady Emily would take a long journey to look at +a white cow, or to secure the whitest thing in Brahmas or Cochin Chinas.</p> + +<p>It was a harmless, simple, womanly hobby, and although Lady Emily's +farm was a somewhat costly toy, it served to give her status in the +neighbourhood, and it provided labour for a good many people, who +were well housed and well looked after, and whose children astonished +the school-inspectors by the thoroughness of their education. No +incompetent master or mistress could have held on in the schools where +Lady Emily was a power. She cultivated a friendly familiarity with the +man and woman who taught her cottage children; she asked them to quiet, +confidential luncheons three or four times in a quarter; she sounded +their opinions, plucked out the heart of their mystery, lent them +books, stuffed them with her own ideas, and, in a manner, made them her +mouthpiece. Intensely conservative as to her opinions and prejudices, +and with an absolute loathing for all radical and revolutionary +principles; she was yet, by the beneficence of her nature, more liberal +than many a professing demagogue, and would fain have admitted all +her fellow-creatures to an equal share in the good things of this +life. Her warm heart was full of compassion for the hard lives she saw +around her—hard even where the condition of the agricultural labourer +was at its best—and it was her delight to introduce into these hard +lives occasional glimpses of a happier world—a world of pleasure +and gaiety, laughter and frolic. Lady Emily's Christmas and Whitsun +balls for the villagers and servants; Lady Emily's May-day feast for +the children; Lady Emily's midsummer picnic and harvest-home; and Lady +Emily's fairy fir-tree, which reached to the ceiling of the boy's +schoolroom, every branch laden with benefits—these were events which +broke the slow monotony of each laborious year, joys to dream of and +to remember in many a dull week of toil. Second only to these festive +gatherings in helpfulness were Lady Emily's coal and blanket society, +savings bank, and mothers' meeting—the last a friendly, familiar +gathering held in a spacious old building which had been a brewery in +the days when every country gentleman's household brewed its own beer. +Once a week, through the winter season, Lady Emily sat in the old +brewery, with a circle of cottagers' wives sewing industriously, while +she talked and read to them. Tea and bread-and-butter, a roaring wood +fire, and a bright lamp, were the only material comforts provided; but +these and Lady Emily's friendly welcome and pleasant talk, with the +short story chosen out of a magazine, and the familiar chapter of the +New Testament, read far better than vicar or curate read it in church, +sufficed to make the mothers' meeting a cheerful break in the cottage +matron's busy week. She went back to her homely hearth cheered and +encouraged. Lady Emily had told her the latest news of the great busy +world outside Fendyke, had given her a recipe for a new savoury pie of +ox-cheek and twopenny rice, or a new way of making barley broth; or +had given her a "cutting" for her tiny flower-garden, or had cut out +her new Gari<i>bawl</i>di. Lady Emily had been to her as a friend and +counsellor.</p> + +<p>The village remembered with a shudder that long dreary winter when +the great house was empty, while Mr. Carew and his wife were in +Egypt—ordered there by the doctors, after a serious illness of the +squire's.</p> + +<p>Much had been done for the sick and the poor even in that desolate +winter, for the housekeeper had been given a free hand; but no +one could replace Lady Emily, and the gaiety of Fendyke had been +extinguished.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">"A HOME OF ANCIENT PEACE."</p> + + +<p>The hunting was nearly over by the time Allan Carew had established +himself at Beechhurst and completed his stud. The selection of half a +dozen hunters had given him an excuse for running up to London once or +twice a week; and he had revelled in the convenience of express trains +between Salisbury and Waterloo as compared with the slow and scanty +train service between Fendyke and Cambridge, which made a journey from +his native village a trial of youthful patience.</p> + +<p>London was full of pleasant people at this after-Easter season, so +Allan took his time at Tattersall's, saw his friends, dined them, or +dined with them, at those clubs which young men most affect, went to +his favourite theatres, rode in the Park, and saw a race or two at +Sandown, all in the process of buying his horses; but at last the stud +was complete, and his stud-groom, a man he had brought from Suffolk, +the man who taught him to ride, had shaken a wise head, and told his +young master to stop buying.</p> + +<p>"You've got just as many as you can use, Mr. Allan," he said, "and if +you buy another one, it 'ud mean another b'y, and we shall have b'ys +enough for me to keep in order as it is."</p> + +<p>So Allan held his hand. "And now I am a country gentleman," he said, +"and I must go and live on my acres."</p> + +<p>Everybody in the neighbourhood wanted to know him. He was under none +of the disadvantages of the new man about whom people have to ask +each other, "Who is he?" He came to Matcham with the best possible +credentials. His father was a man of old family, against whose name no +evil thing had ever been written. His mother was an earl's daughter; +and the estate which was his had been left him by a man whose memory +was respected in the neighbourhood—a man of easy temper and open hand, +a kind master, and a staunch friend.</p> + +<p>Allan found his hall-table covered with cards when he returned from his +London holiday, and he was occupied for the next fortnight in returning +the calls that had been made for the most part in his absence. To a +shy young man this business of returning calls in an unknown land +would have been terrible—invading unfamiliar drawing-rooms, and +seeing strange faces, wondering which of two matrons was his hostess +and which the friend or sister-in-law—an ordeal as awful as any +mediæval torture; but Allan was not shy, and he accepted the situation +with a winning ease which pleased everybody. When he blundered—and +his blunders were rare—he laughed at his mistake, and turned it +into a jest that served to help him through the first five minutes +of small-talk. He had a quick eye, and in a room full of people saw +at a glance the welcoming smile and extended hand which marked his +hostess. "Quite an acquisition to the neighbourhood," said everybody; +and the mothers of marriageable daughters were as eager to improve the +acquaintance as Jane Austen's inimitable Mrs. Bennett was to cultivate +the irreproachable Bingley.</p> + +<p>In the course of that round of visits Allan contrived to find out a +good deal about the neighbourhood which was henceforward to be his home.</p> + +<p>He discovered that it was, above all, a hunting neighbourhood; but that +it was also a shooting neighbourhood; and that there was bad blood +between the men who wanted to preserve pheasants and the men who wanted +to hunt foxes. From the point of view of the rights of property, the +shooters would appear to be in their right, since they only wanted to +feed and foster birds on their own land; while the hunting-man—were +he but the season-ticket-holding solicitor from Bloomsbury—wanted to +hunt his fox over land which belonged to another man, and to spoil that +other man's costly sport in the pursuit of a pleasure which cost him, +the season-ticket holder, at most a stingy subscription to the hunt he +affected. But, on the other hand, hunting is a strictly national sport, +and shooting is a selfish, hole-and-corner kind of pleasure; so the +hunting men claimed immemorial rights and privileges as against the +owners of woods and copses, and the hatchers of pheasants.</p> + +<p>Allan found another and more universal sport also in the ascendant at +Matcham. The neighbourhood had taken lately to golf, and that game +had found favour with old and young of both sexes. Everybody could +not hunt, but everybody could play golf, or fancy that he or she was +playing golf, or, at least, look on from a respectful distance while +golf was being played. The golf-links on Matcham Common had therefore +become the most popular institution in the neighbourhood, and the +scarlet coat of the golfer was oftener seen than the fox-hunter in +pink, and people came from afar to see the young ladies of Matcham +contest for the bangles and photograph-frames which the golf club +offered as the reward of the strong arm and the accurate eye.</p> + +<p>Allan, who could turn his hand to most things in the way of physical +exercise, was able to hold his own with the members of the golf club, +and speedily became a familiar figure on the links. Here, as elsewhere, +he met people who told him he was like Geoffrey Wornock, and who +praised Wornock's skill at golf just as other people had praised his +riding or his shooting.</p> + +<p>"He seems to be something of a Crichton, this Wornock of yours," Allan +said sometimes, with a suspicion of annoyance.</p> + +<p>He was sick of being told of his likeness to this man whom he had never +seen—weary of hearing the likeness discussed in his presence; weary of +being told that the resemblance was in expression rather than in actual +feature; that there was an indefinable something in his face which +recalled Wornock in an absolutely startling manner; while the details +of that face taken separately were in many respects unlike Wornock's +face.</p> + +<p>"Yet it is more than what is generally called a family likeness," +said Mrs. Mornington of the Grove, a personage in the neighbourhood, +and the cleverest woman among Allan's new acquaintances. "It is the +individuality, the life and movement of the face, that are the same. +The likeness is a likeness of light and shade rather than of line and +colour."</p> + +<p>There was a curious feeling in Allan's mind by the time this kind of +thing had been said to him in different forms of speech by nearly +everybody he knew in Matcham—a feeling which was partly irritation, +partly interest in the man whose outward likeness to himself might be +allied with some identity of mind and inclinations.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether I shall like him very much, or hate him very much," +he said to Mrs. Mornington. "I feel sure I must do one or the other."</p> + +<p>"You are sure to like him. He is not the kind of man for anybody +to hate," answered the lady quickly; and then, growing suddenly +thoughtful, she added, "You may find a something wanting in his +character, perhaps; but you cannot dislike him. He is thoroughly +likeable."</p> + +<p>"What is the something wanting which you have found?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say I had found——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you would not have suggested that I might discover the weak +spot if you had not found it yourself!"</p> + +<p>"You are as searching as a cross-examining counsel," said Mrs. +Mornington, laughing at him. "Well, I will be perfectly frank with +you. To my mind, Geoffrey's character suffers from the fault which +doctors—speaking of a patient's physical condition—call want of tone. +There is a want of mental tone in Geoffrey. I have known him from a +boy. I like him; I admire his talents. He and my sons were at Eton +together. I have seen more of him perhaps than any one else in this +neighbourhood. I like him—I am sorry for him."</p> + +<p>"Why sorry? Has he not all the good things of this world?"</p> + +<p>"Not all. He lost his father before he was five years old; and his +mother is, I fear, a poor creature."</p> + +<p>"Eccentric, I understand."</p> + +<p>"Lamentably so—a woman who isolates herself from all the people whose +society would do her good, and who opens her door to any spirit-rapping +charlatan whose tricks become public talk. Poor thing! One ought not to +be angry with her, but it is provoking to see such a place as Discombe +in the possession of a woman who is utterly unable to fill the position +to which she has been elevated."</p> + +<p>"Who <i>was</i> Mrs. Wornock before she became Mrs. Wornock? I have +heard hints——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you are never likely to hear more than hints," retorted +Mrs. Mornington, impatiently. "Nobody in this neighbourhood knows +who Mrs. Wornock was. No creature of her kith or kin has ever been +seen at Discombe. I don't suppose her son knows anything more of her +antecedents than you or I. Old Squire Wornock left Discombe about +seven and twenty years ago to drink the waters of some obscure spring +in Bohemia—a place nobody hereabouts had ever heard of. He was past +sixty when he set out on that journey, a confirmed bachelor. One would +as soon have expected him to bring back the moon as to bring a wife, +but to the utter stupefaction of all his friends and acquaintance, he +returned with a pretty-looking delicate young creature he had married +in Germany—at Dresden, I believe—and who looked much more like dying +within the next five years than he did."</p> + +<p>"Did he introduce her to his neighbours? Was she well received?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she was received well enough. Mr. Wornock was not the kind of man +to marry a disreputable person. People took her on trust. She seemed +painfully shy, and her only merit in society was that she sang very +prettily. Everybody called upon her, but she did not respond warmly +to our advances; and about six months after her marriage there were +rumours of an alarming kind about her health—her mental health. Our +own good little doctor, dear old Mr. Podmore, who had attended three +generations of Wornocks, shook his head when he was questioned about +her. 'Was it serious?' people asked—for I suppose you know that in +a neighbourhood as rustic as ours, if the doctor's carriage is seen +at a particular house very often, people <i>will</i> ask questions +of that doctor. Yes, it was very serious. We never got beyond that. +Mr. Podmore was loyal to his patient, fondly as he loves a gossip. +By-and-by we heard that Mr. Wornock had taken his young wife off to +Switzerland. He who in his earlier life had seemed rooted to the soil +was off again to the Continent, and Discombe was shut up once more. I'm +afraid we all hated Mrs. Wornock. In a neighbourhood like ours, one +detests anybody who disturbs the pleasant order of daily life. Dinners +and hunting-breakfasts at Discombe were an element in our daily lives, +and we resented their cessation. When I say we, I mean, of course, our +men-folk."</p> + +<p>"Were your men-folk long deprived of Mr. Wornock's hospitalities?"</p> + +<p>"For ever," answered Mrs. Mornington, solemnly. "The Wornocks had only +been gone half a year or so when we read the announcement of a son and +heir, born at Grindelwald in the depth of winter. A nice place for the +future owner of Discombe to be born in—Grindelwald—at the sign of +the Bear! We were all indignant at the absurdity of the thing. This +comes of an old man marrying a nobody, we said. Well, Mr. Carew, it was +ages before we saw anything more of the Wornocks. Geoffrey must have +been three or four years old when his father and mother brought him to +the house in which he ought to have been born—a poor little fragile +Frenchified object, hanging on to a French <i>bonne</i>, and speaking +nothing but French. Not one sentence of his native tongue did the +little wretch utter for a year or two after he appeared among us!"</p> + +<p>Allan laughed heartily at Mrs. Mornington's indignant recital of this +ancient history. Her disgust was as fresh and as vigorous as if she +were describing the events of yesterday.</p> + +<p>"Was he a nice child?" he asked, when they had both had their laugh.</p> + +<p>"Nice? Well, yes, he was nice, just as a French poodle is nice. He +was very active and intelligent—hyper-active, hyper-intelligent. He +frightened me. But the Wornocks and the Morningtons had been close +friends from generation to generation, so I could not help taking +an interest in the brat, and I would have been a cordial friend of +the brat's mother, for poor old Wornock's sake, if she would have +let me. But she wouldn't, or she couldn't, respond to a sensible, +matter-of-fact woman's friendly advances. The poor thing was in the +clouds then, and she is in the clouds now. She has never come down +to earth. Music, spirit-rapping, thought-reading, slate-writing—what +can one expect of a woman who gives all her mind to such things as +those?—a woman who lets her housekeeper manage everything from cellar +to garret, and who has no will of her own in her garden and hot-houses? +I have known Mrs. Wornock seven and twenty years, and I know no more of +her now than I knew when she came a stranger to Discombe. I call upon +her three or four times a year, and she returns my calls, and sits in +my drawing-room for twenty minutes or so looking miserable and longing +to go. What can one do with such a woman?"</p> + +<p>"Is it sheer stupidity, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Stupidity! No, I think not. She has anything but a stupid expression +of countenance. She has an air of spirituality, as of a nature above +the common world, which cannot come down to common things. I am told +that in music she is really a genius; that her powers of criticism and +appreciation are of the highest order. She plays exquisitely, both +organ and piano. She has, or had, a heavenly soprano voice; but I have +not heard her sing since Geoffrey's birth."</p> + +<p>"She must be interesting," said Allan, with conviction.</p> + +<p>"She is interesting—only she won't let one be interested in her."</p> + +<p>"Can one get a look at her? Does she go to Matcham Church?"</p> + +<p>"Never. That is another of her eccentricities. She either goes to +that funny little old church you may have noticed right among the +fields—Filbury parish church—nearly six miles from Discombe, or she +drives thirteen miles to Salisbury Cathedral. I believe she sometimes +plays the organ at Filbury. That organ was her gift, by the way. They +had only a wretched harmonium when she came to Discombe."</p> + +<p>"I shall go to Filbury Church next Sunday," said Allan.</p> + +<p>"Shall you? I hope you are not forgetting the lapse of time. This +interesting widow is only interesting from a psychological standpoint, +remember. She must be five and forty years of age. Not even Cleopatra +would have been interesting at forty-five."</p> + +<p>"I am under no hallucination as to the lady's age. I want to see +the mother of Geoffrey Wornock. It is Geoffrey Wornock in whom I am +interested."</p> + +<p>"Egotistical person! Only because Geoffrey is like you."</p> + +<p>"Is there any man living who would not be interested in his double?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but he is not your double! The village mind is given to +exaggeration. He has not your firm chin, nor your thoughtful brow. His +face is a reminiscence of yours. It is weaker in every characteristic, +in every line. You are the substance, he the reflection."</p> + +<p>"Now, you are laughing at my egotism, and developing my vanity."</p> + +<p>"No, believe me, no!" protested Mrs. Mornington, gaily. "I see you both +with all your defects and qualities. You have the stronger character, +but you have not Geoffrey's fascinating personality. His very faults +are attractive. He is by no means effeminate; yet there is a something +womanish in his nature which makes women fond of him. He has inherited +his mother's sensitive, dreamy temperament. I feel sure he would see +a ghost if there were one in his neighbourhood. The ghost would go to +him instinctively, as dogs go unbidden to certain people—sometimes +to people who don't care about them; while the genuine dog-lover +may be doing his best to attract bow-wow's attention, and failing +ignominiously."</p> + +<p>"Every word you say increases my interest in Mr. Wornock. In a +neighbourhood like this, where everybody is sensible and commonplace +and conventional, excepting always your brilliant self"—Mrs. +Mornington nodded, and put her feet on the fender—"it is so delightful +to meet some one who does not move just on the common lines, and is not +worked by the common machinery."</p> + +<p>"You will find nothing common about Geoffrey," said the lady. "I have +known him since he was a little white boy in a black velvet suit, and +he was just as enigmatical to me the day he left for Bombay as he was +on his seventh birthday. I know that he has winning manners, and that I +am very fond of him; and that is all I know about him."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Allan drove to Filbury on the following Sunday, and was in his place +in the little old parish church ten minutes before the service began. +The high oak pews were not favourable to his getting a good view of the +congregation, since, when seated, the top of his head was only on a +level with the top of his pew; but by leaving the door of the pew ajar +he contrived to see Mrs. Wornock as she went up the narrow aisle—nave +there was none, the pews forming a solid square in the centre of the +church. Yes, he was assured that slim, graceful figure in a plain +grey cashmere gown and grey straw bonnet must be Mrs. Wornock and no +other. Indeed, the inference was easily arrived at, for the rest of +the congregation belonged obviously to the small tenant-farmer and +agricultural-labourer class—the women-folk homely and ruddy-cheeked, +the men ponderous, and ill at ease in their Sunday clothes.</p> + +<p>The lady in the grey gown made her way quietly to a pew that occupied +the angle of the church nearest the pulpit and reading-desk—the old +three-decker arrangement, for clerk, parson, and preacher. Mr. Wornock +was patron of the living of Filbury and Discombe, and this large, +square pew had belonged to the Wornocks ever since the rebuilding of +the church in Charles the Second's reign, a year or two after the +manor-house was built, when the estate, which had hitherto been an +outlying possession of the Wornocks, became their place of residence, +and most important property.</p> + +<p>Allan could see only the lady's profile from his place in the body +of the church—a delicate profile, worn as if with long years of +thoughtfulness; a sweet, sad face that had lost all freshness of +colouring, but had gained the spiritual beauty which grows in thought +and solitude, where there are no vulgar cares to harass and vex the +mind. A pensive peacefulness was the chief characteristic of the face, +Allan thought, when the lady turned towards the organ during the <i>Te +Deum</i>, listening to the village voices, which sang truer than +village voices generally do.</p> + +<p>Allan submitted to the slow torture of a very long sermon about +nothing particular, on a text in Nehemiah, which suggested not the +faintest bearing on the Christian life—a sermon preached by an elderly +gentleman in a black silk gown, whose eloquence would have been more +impressive had his false teeth been a better fit. After the sermon +there was a hymn, and the old-fashioned plate was carried round by +a blacksmith, whom Allan recognized as a man who had fastened his +hunter's shoe one day at a forge on the outskirts of Filbury, in the +midst of a run; and then the little congregation quietly dispersed, +after an exchange of friendly greetings between the church door and the +lych-gate.</p> + +<p>Allan's gig was waiting for him near the gate, and a victoria, on +which he recognized the Wornock crest—a dolphin crowned—stood in the +shade of a row of limes, which marked the boundary of the Vicarage +garden. Allan waited a little, expecting to see Mrs. Wornock come out; +and then, as she did not appear, he re-entered the churchyard, and +strayed among moss-mantled tomb-stones, reading the village names, the +village histories of birth and death, musing, as he read, upon the long +eventless years which make the sum of rustic lives.</p> + +<p>The blue pure sky, the perfume of a bean-field in flower, the hawthorns +in undulating masses of snowy blossom, and here and there, in the +angles of the meadows, the heaped-up gold of furze-bushes that were +more bloom than bush—all these made life to-day a sensuous delight +which exacted no questionings of the intellect, suggested no doubt as +to the bliss of living. If it were always thus—a crust of bread and +cheese under such a sky, a bed in the hollow of yonder bank between +bean-field and clover, would suffice for a man's content, Allan +thought, as he stood on a knoll in God's acre, and looked down upon +the meadows that rose and fell over ridge and hollow with gentle +undulations between Filbury and Discombe.</p> + +<p>What had become of Mrs. Wornock? He had made the circuit of the +burial-ground, pausing often to read an epitaph, but never relaxing +his watchfulness of the carriage yonder, waiting under the limes. The +carriage was there still, and there was no sign of Mrs. Wornock. Was +there a celebration? No; he had seen all the congregation leave the +church, except the mistress of that curtained pew in the corner near +the pulpit.</p> + +<p>Presently the broad strong chords of a prelude were poured out upon the +still air—a prelude by Sebastian Bach, masterful, imposing, followed +by a fugue, whose delicate intricacies were exquisitely rendered by +the player. Standing in the sunshine listening to that music, Allan +remembered what Mrs. Mornington had told him. The player was Mrs. +Wornock. He had seen the professional organist and schoolmaster leave +the church with his flock of village boys. Mrs. Wornock had lingered +after the service to gratify herself with the music she loved. He +sauntered and loitered near the open window, listening to the music +for nearly an hour. Then the organ sounds melted away in one last long +rallentando, and presently he heard the heavy old key turn in the +heavy old lock, and the lady in grey came slowly along the path to the +lych-gate, followed by a clumsy boy, who looked like a smaller edition +of the blacksmith. Allan stood within a few yards of the pathway to +see her go by, hoping to be himself unobserved, screened by the angle +of an old monument, where rust had eaten away the railing, and moss +and lichen had encrusted the pompous Latin epitaph, while the dense +growth of ivy had muffled the funeral urn. Here, in the shadow of +ostentation's unenduring monument, he waited for that slender and still +youthful form to pass.</p> + +<p>In figure the widow of twenty years looked a girl, and the face which +turned quickly towards Allan, her keen ear having caught the rustle +of the long grass under his tread, had the delicacy of outline and +transparency of youth. The cheek had lost its girlish roundness, and +the large grey eye was somewhat sunken beneath the thoughtful brow. +Involuntarily Allan recalled a familiar line—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"Thy cheek is pale with thought and not with care."</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>That expression of tranquil thoughtfulness changed in an instant as +she looked at him; changed to astonishment, interrogation, which +gradually softened to a grave curiosity, an anxious scrutiny. Then, as +if becoming suddenly aware of her breach of good manners, the heavy +eyelids sank, a faint blush coloured the thin cheeks, and she hurried +onward to the gate where her carriage had drawn up in readiness for her.</p> + +<p>Her footman, in a sober brown livery, was holding the gate open for +her. Her horses were shaking their bridles. She stepped lightly into +the victoria, nodded an adieu to the schoolboy who had blown the organ +bellows, and vanished into the leafy distance of the lane.</p> + +<p>"So that is my double's mother. An interesting face, a graceful figure, +and a lady to the tips of her fingers. Whether she is county, or not +county, Geoffrey Wornock has no cause to be ashamed of his mother. +Nothing would induce me to think ill of that woman."</p> + +<p>He brooded on that startled expression which had flashed across Mrs. +Wornock's face as she looked at him. Clearly she, too, had seen the +likeness which he bore to her son.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether it pains her to be reminded of him when he is so far +away," speculated Allan, "or whether she feels kindly towards me for +the sake of that absent son?"</p> + +<p>This question of his was answered three days later by the lady's own +hand. Among the letters on Allan's breakfast-table on Wednesday morning +there was one in a strange penmanship, which took his breath away, for +on the envelope, in bold brown letters, appeared the address, Discombe +Manor.</p> + +<p>He thrust all his other letters aside—those uninteresting letters +which besiege the man who is supposed to have money to spend, from +tradesmen who want to work for him, charities who want to do good for +him, stock-jobbers who want to speculate for him—the whole race of +spiders that harassed the well-feathered fly. He tore open the letter +from Discombe Manor, and his eye ran eagerly over the following lines:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"DEAR SIR,</p> + +<p>"People tell me that you are kind and amiable, and I am emboldened +by this assurance to ask you a favour. Etiquette forbids me to call +upon you, and as I rarely visit anybody, it might be long before we +should meet casually in the houses of other people; but you can, +if you like, gratify a solitary woman by letting her make your +acquaintance in her own house; and perhaps when my son comes home +on leave, the acquaintance, so begun, may ripen into friendship. I +dare say people have told you that you are like him, and you will +hardly wonder at my wishing to see more of a face that reminds me +of my nearest and dearest.</p> + +<p>"I am generally at home in the afternoon.</p> + +<p class="ph3">"Very truly yours,<br> + +"E. WORNOCK."</p> +</div> + +<p>"E. Wornock!" he repeated, studying the signature. "Why no +Christian name? And what is the name which that initial represents? +Eliza, perhaps—and she sinks it, thinking it common and +housemaidish—forgetting how Ben Jonson, by that housemaidish name, +does designate the most glorious of queens. Possibly Ellen—a +milk-and-waterish name, with less of dignity than Eliza; or Emily, my +mother's name—graceful but colourless. I have never thought it good +enough for so fine a character as my mother. She should have been +Katherine or Margaret, Gertrude or Barbara, names that have a fulness +of sound which implies fulness of meaning. I will call at Discombe +Manor this afternoon. Delay would be churlish—and I want to see what +Geoffrey Wornock's home is like."</p> + +<p>The afternoon was warm and sunny, and Allan made a leisurely circuit of +the chase and park of Discombe on his way to Mrs. Wornock's house.</p> + +<p>The beauty of the Manor consisted as much in the perfection of detail +as in the grandeur of the mansion or the extent of gardens and park. +The mansion was not strikingly architectural nor even strikingly +picturesque. It was a sober red brick house, with a high, tiled +roof, and level rows of windows—those of the upper story were the +original lattices of 1664, the date of the house; but on the lower +floors mullions and lattices had given place to long French windows, +of a uniform unpicturesque flatness, opening on a broad gravel walk, +beyond which the smooth shaven grass sloped gently to the edge of a +moat, for Mrs. Wornock's house was one of those moated manor-houses +of which there are so few left in the south of England. The gardens +surrounding that grave-looking Carolian house had attained the ideal +of horticultural beauty under many generations of garden-lovers, the +ideal of old-fashioned beauty, be it understood; the beauty of clipped +hedges and sunk lawns, walls of ilex and of yew, solemn avenues of +obelisk-shaped conifers, labyrinths, arches, temples and arcades of +roses, tennis-lawns and bowling-greens, broad borders of old-fashioned +perennials, clumps and masses of vivid colour, placed with art that +seemed accidental wherever vivid colour was wanted to relieve the +verdant monotony.</p> + +<p>If the gardens were perfect, the house, farm, and cottages were even +more attractive in their arcadian grace, the grace of a day that is +dead. Quaint roofs and massive chimney-stacks, lattices, porches, +sun-dials, gardens brimming over with flowers, trim pathways, shining +panes, everywhere a spotless cleanliness, a wealth of foliage, an +air of prosperous fatness, bee-hives, poultry, cattle, all the signs +and tokens of dependents for whom much is done, and whose dwellings +flourish at somebody else's expense.</p> + +<p>Allan noted the cottages which bore the Wornock "W" above the date of +the building—he noted them, but lost count of their number—keepers' +lodges in the woodland which skirted the park—gardeners' or +dairy-men's cottages at every park gate; farmhouse and bailiff's house; +cottages for coachmen and helpers. At every available angle where +gable, roof, and quaint old chimney-stack could make a picturesque +feature in the landscape, a cottage had been placed, and the number of +these ideal dwellings suggested territorial importance in a manner more +obvious than any effect made by the mere extent of acreage, a thing +that is talked about but not seen. Discombe Chase, the Discombe lodges, +and the village and school-houses of Discombe were obvious facts which +impressed the stranger.</p> + +<p>That sweetly pensive face of Mrs. Wornock's had slain the viper envy +in Allan's breast. When first he rode through those woods and over +those undulating pastures and by those gables embowered in roses and +wisteria, or starred with the pale blue clematis, he had felt a certain +sour discontent with his own good fortune, about which people, from +his mother down to the acquaintance of yesterday, prattled and prosed +so officiously. He was sick of hearing himself called a lucky fellow. +Luck, forsooth! what was his luck compared with Geoffrey Wornock's? +That a bachelor uncle of his, having scraped together a modest little +fortune, and not being able to carry it with him to the nether-world, +should have passed it on to him, Allan, was not such a strange event as +to warrant the running commentary of congratulation that had assailed +his ear ever since he came to Matcham. No one congratulated Geoffrey +Wornock. Nobody talked of <i>his</i> good luck. He had been born in +the purple, and people spoke of him as of one having a divine right +to the best things that this earth can give—to a Carolian mansion, +and chase and park, and wide-spreading farms. There seemed to Allan +Carew's self-consciousness an implied disparagement of himself in +the tone which Matcham people took about Geoffrey Wornock. They in a +manner congratulated him on his likeness to the Lord of Discombe Manor, +and insinuated that he ought to be proud of himself because of this +resemblance to the local magnate.</p> + +<p>To-day, however, Allan forgot all those infinitesimal vexations which +in the beginning of his residence at Matcham had made the name of +Wornock odious to him. His thoughts were full of that pale sad face, +the wasted cheeks, the heavy eyelids, the somewhat sickly transparency +of complexion, the large violet eyes, which lit up the whole face as +with a light that is not of this world. It was the most spiritual +countenance he had ever seen—the first face which had ever suggested +to him the epithet ethereal.</p> + +<p>He remembered what society had told him about Mrs. Wornock; her +encouragement of spirit-rapping people and thought-reading people, +and every phase of modern super-naturalism; her passion for music—a +passion so absorbing as almost to pass the border-line of sanity; +at least in the opinion of the commonplace sane. He wondered no +longer that such a woman had held herself aloof from the hunting, and +shooting, and dinner-giving, and tea-drinking population scattered +within a radius of eight or ten miles of Discombe; the people with +whom, had she lived the conventional life of the conventional rural +lady, she should have been on intimate terms. She was among them, but +not of them, Allan told himself.</p> + +<p>"Surely I am not in love with a woman old enough to be my mother!" he +thought, between jest and earnest, as he drove up to the house. "I have +not thought so persistently of any woman since I was sick for love of +the dean's pretty daughter, fairest and last of my calf-loves."</p> + +<p>He was not wholly in jest, for during the last three days the lady's +image had haunted him with an insistency that bordered on "possession." +It was as if those dark grey eyes had cast a spell upon him, and as +if he must needs wait until the enchantress who held him in her mystic +bands should unweave her mystery and set his thoughts at liberty.</p> + +<p>The hall door stood open to the summer air and the afternoon sun. A +large black poodle, with an air of ineffable wisdom, was stretched near +the threshold; a liver-and-white St. Bernard sunned his hairy bulk upon +the grass in front of the steps; and on the broad terrace to the right +of the house a peacock spread the rainbow splendour of his tail, and +strutted in stately slowness towards the sun.</p> + +<p>"House and garden belong to fairyland," thought Allan. "The enchantress +has but to wave her wand and fix the picture for a century. We may +have extended the limit of human life a hundred years hence, and +Mrs. Wornock's age may count as girlhood, when some gay young prince +of fifty-five shall ride through the tangled woodland to awaken the +sleeper. Who can tell? 'We know what we are, but we know not what we +may be.'"</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">"IN THE ALL-GOLDEN AFTERNOON."</p> + + +<p>The hall door stood wide open to the sunlight, sufficiently guarded by +that splendid brute, the St. Bernard.</p> + +<p>A middle-aged footman in the sober Wornock livery came at the sound of +the bell, the St. Bernard watching the visitor with grave but friendly +eyes, and evidently perfectly aware of his respectability.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock was at home. A slow and solemn butler now appeared upon +the scene, and led the way to a corridor which opened out of the hall; +and at the end of this corridor, like Vandyke's famous portrait of +Charles the First at Warwick Castle, the full-length portrait of a +young man in a hunting-coat looked Allan Carew in the face.</p> + +<p>In spite of all he had been told about his likeness to the owner of +Discombe, the sight of that frank young face looking at him under the +bright white light fairly startled him. For the moment it seemed to him +as if he had seen his own reflection in a cheval-glass; but as he drew +nearer the canvas the likeness lessened, the difference in the features +came out, and he saw that the resemblance was less a likeness than a +reminiscence. Distance was needed to make the illusion, and he could +understand now why his new friends of the hunting-field should have +taken him for Wornock on that first morning when he rode up to them as +a stranger.</p> + +<p>The portrait was by Millais, painted with as much <i>brio</i> and +vigour as the better-known picture of the young Marchioness of Huntley. +Mr. Wornock was standing in an old stone doorway, leaning in an easy +attitude against the deep arch of the door, hunting-crop, cigar-case, +and hat on a table in the background, standing where he had stood on +many a winter morning, waiting for his horse.</p> + +<p>There was a skylight over this end of the corridor, and the portrait of +the master of the house shone out brilliantly under the clear top-light.</p> + +<p>The butler stopped within a few paces of the portrait, opened a low, +old-fashioned door, and ushered Mr. Carew into a spacious room, at +the further end of which a lady was sitting by an open window, beyond +which he saw the long vista of an Italian garden, a cypress avenue, +where statues were gleaming here and there in the sunshine. There was +a grand piano on one side of the room, an organ on the other; books +filled every recess. This spacious apartment was evidently music-room +and library rather than drawing-room, and here, amidst books and music, +lived the lonely lady of the house.</p> + +<p>She came to meet him with a friendly smile as he advanced into the +room, holding out her hand.</p> + +<p>"It was very good of you to come so soon," she said, in her low, +musical voice. "I wanted so much to see you—to know you. Yes, you are +very like him. One of those accidental likenesses which are so common, +and yet seem so strange. My husband had a friend who was murdered +because he was like Sir Robert Peel; but my son is not a public man, +and he has no enemies. You will run no risks on account of your +likeness to him.</p> + +<p>"I am grateful to the likeness which has given me the honour of knowing +Mrs. Wornock," said Allan, taking the seat to which she motioned him, +as she resumed her low chair by the window.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you have no reason. I am a very stupid person. I go nowhere, I +see very few people; and the people I do see are people whom you would +think unworthy of your interest."</p> + +<p>"Not if you are interested in them. They cannot be unworthy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am easily interested! I like strange people. I like to believe +strange things. Your friend, Mrs. Mornington, will tell you that I am a +foolish person."</p> + +<p>"You have seen Mrs. Mornington lately?" questioned Allan.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she was here yesterday afternoon. She is always bright and +amusing, and I always feel particularly stupid in her society. She is +always bright and amusing, and I always feel particularly stupid in her +society. She talked of you, but I did not tell her I wanted to make +your acquaintance. She would have offered to make a luncheon-party for +me to meet you—or something dreadful of that kind."</p> + +<p>"You have a great dislike to society, Mrs. Wornock?" he asked, keenly +interested.</p> + +<p>Her manner was so fresh and simple, almost childlike in its confiding +candour, and her appearance was no less interesting than her manner. +It is the fashion of our day for women of five and forty to look +young, even to girlishness; but most women of five and forty are +considerably indebted to modern art for that advantage. Here there was +no art. The pale, clear fairness of the complexion owed nothing to the +perfumer's palette. No <i>poudre des fées</i> blanched the delicate +brow; no <i>rose d'amour</i> flushed the cheek; no <i>eau de Medée</i> +brightened the large violet eyes. The lines which thought and sorrow +had drawn upon the fair brow were undisguised, and in the soft, pale +gold of the hair there were threads of silver. The youthfulness of the +face was in its colouring and expression—the complexion so delicately +fair, the countenance so trustful and pleading. It was the countenance +of a woman to whom the conventionalities and jargon of modern life were +unknown.</p> + +<p>"You saw my son's portrait in the corridor?" said Mrs. Wornock.</p> + +<p>"Yes. It struck my untutored eye as a very fine picture—almost as +powerful as the Gladstone and the Salisbury, which I remember in the +Millais collection at the Grosvenor."</p> + +<p>"But as for the likeness to yourself, now—did that strike you as +forcibly as it has struck other people?"</p> + +<p>"I confess that as I stood in the hall I was inclined to exclaim, 'That +is I or my brother!' But as I came nearer the picture I saw there was +considerable diversity. To begin with, your son is much handsomer than +I."</p> + +<p>"The drawing of his features may be more correct, but you are quite +handsome enough," she answered, with her pretty friendly air, as if she +had been his aunt. "And your face is more strongly marked than his, +just as your voice is stronger," she added, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Your son is not an invalid, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"An invalid! No. But he is not very strong. He could not play football. +He hated even cricket. He is passionately fond of horses, and an ardent +sportsman; but he can be sadly idle. He likes to lie about in the +sunshine, reading or dreaming. I fear he is a dreamer, like his mother."</p> + +<p>"He is not like you, in person."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"He is like his father, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"You will see his father's picture, and you can judge for yourself. +Well, we are to be friends, are we not, Mr. Carew? And you will come +to see me sometimes; and if you ever have any little troubles which can +be lightened by a woman's sympathy, you will come and confide them to +me, I hope."</p> + +<p>"It will be very sweet to be allowed to confide in so kind a friend," +said Allan.</p> + +<p>"My son will be home for his long leave before the end of the year, and +I want you to make him your friend. He is very amiable," again with a +suppressed sigh. "Come, now it is your turn to tell me something about +yourself. This room tells you all there is to be told about me."</p> + +<p>"It tells me you are very fond of music."</p> + +<p>"I live for it. Music has been my companion and consoler all my life."</p> + +<p>"And I hope you will let me hear you play again some day."</p> + +<p>"Again? Ah, I forgot! You were in the churchyard last Sunday while I +was playing. Did you listen?"</p> + +<p>"As long as you played. I was under the open window most of the time."</p> + +<p>"You are fond of organ music?"</p> + +<p>"As fond as an ignorant man may be. I know nothing of the subtleties of +music. I have never been educated up to Wagner or Dvorak. I love the +familiar voices—Mozart, Beethoven, Verdi, Gounod, Auber even, and I +adore our English master of melody, Sullivan. Does that shock you?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. I will play his cantata for you some day. If you have +nothing better to do with your time this afternoon, I should like to +show you my garden."</p> + +<p>"I shall be enchanted. I am enchanted already with that long straight +walk, those walls of cypress and yew, that peacock sunning his emerald +and sapphire plumage by the dial. In such a garden did Beatrice hide +when Hero and her ladies talked of Benedick's passion; in such a garden +did Jessica and Lorenzo loiter under the moonlight."</p> + +<p>"I see you love your Shakespeare."</p> + +<p>"As interpreted by Irving and Ellen Terry. The Lyceum was the school in +which I learnt to love the bard. An Eton examination in Richard the +Second only prejudiced me against him."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wornock was a great Shakespearian."</p> + +<p>They were in the garden by this time—sauntering with slow footsteps +along the level stretch of turf on one side of the broad gravel walk. +At the end of the cypress avenue there was a semicircular recess, shut +in by a raised bank, and a wall of clipped yew, in which, at regular +intervals, there were statues in dark green niches.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wornock brought the statues from Rome when he was a young man. +The gardens were laid out by his grandfather nearly a century ago," +explained Mrs. Wornock.</p> + +<p>Allan noticed that she spoke of her husband generally as "Mr. Wornock."</p> + +<p>"That amphitheatre reminds me a little of the Boboli gardens," said +Allan; "but there is a peacefulness about this solitude which no public +garden can have."</p> + +<p>Three peacocks were trailing their plumage on the long lawns between +the house and the amphitheatre, and one less gorgeous but more +ethereal, a bird of dazzling whiteness, was perched, with outspread +tail, on an angle of the cypress wall.</p> + +<p>The lady and her companion strolled to the end of the lawn, and crossed +the amphitheatre to a stone temple, open on the side fronting the +south-western sun, and spacious enough to accommodate a dozen people.</p> + +<p>"If you had a garden-play, how delightfully this temple would serve for +a central point in your stage," said Allan, admiringly.</p> + +<p>"People have asked me to lend them the gardens for a play—'Twelfth +Night,' or 'Much Ado about Nothing;' but I have always said no. I +should hate to see a crowd in this dear old garden."</p> + +<p>"Yet there are people who would think such a place as this created on +purpose for garden-parties, and who would desire nothing better than a +crowd of smart people."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock shuddered at the mention of smart people.</p> + +<p>"A party of that kind would be misery for me," she said. "And now +tell me about yourself, and your relations. Mrs. Mornington told me +that your father and mother are both living, and that you inherited +Beechhurst from your uncle. I remember seeing Admiral Darnleigh years +and years ago, when everything at Discombe and at Matcham was new to +me. It must be sad for your mother to lose you from her own home."</p> + +<p>"My mother is not given to sadness," Allan answered, smiling. "She is +the best and kindest of mothers, and I know she loves me as dearly as +any son need desire; but she is quite resigned to my having my own home +and my own interests. She would argue, perhaps, that were I to marry I +must have a house of my own, and that my establishment at Beechhurst is +only a little premature."</p> + +<p>"You are very much attached to your mother?"</p> + +<p>"Very much—and to my father."</p> + +<p>"Your tone as you say those words tell me that your father is the +dearer of the two."</p> + +<p>"You have a quick ear for shades of meaning, Mrs. Wornock."</p> + +<p>"Pray do not think me impertinent. I am not questioning you out of +idle curiosity. If we are to be friends in the future, I must know and +understand something of your life and your mind. But perhaps I bore +you—perhaps you think me both eccentric and impertinent."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs. Wornock, I am deeply touched that you should offer to be +my friend. Be assured I have no reserve, and am willing—possibly too +willing—to talk of myself and my own people. I have no dark corners +in my life. My history is all open country—an uninteresting landscape +enough. But there is no difficult going—there are no bogs or risky +bits over which the inquiring spirit need skim lightly. Your ear did +not deceive you, just now. Fondly as I love my mother, I will freely +confess that the bond that draws me to my father is the stronger +bond. In the parrot jargon of the day, his is the more interesting +'personality.' He is a man of powerful intellect, whose mind has +done nothing for the good of the world—who will die unhonoured and +unremembered except by his familiar friends. There is one question I +have asked myself about him ever since I was old enough to think—a +question which I first asked myself when I began to read classics +with him in my school vacations, and which I had not finished asking +myself when his untiring help had enabled me to take a first-class in +the Honour School. To me it has always been a mystery that a man of +wide attainments and financial independence should have been utterly +destitute of ambition. My father was a young man when he married; he is +still in the prime of life; and for six and twenty years he has been +content to vegetate in Suffolk, and has regarded his annual visit to +London as more of an affliction than a relief. It is as if the hands +of life's clock had stopped in the golden noon of youth. I have told +myself again and again that my father's life must have been shadowed +by some great sorrow before his marriage, young as he was when he +married."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock listened intently, her head slightly bent, her clasped +hands resting on her knee, her sensitive lips slightly parted.</p> + +<p>"You say that your father married young," she said, after a brief +silence, in which she seemed to be thinking over his words. "What do +you call young in such a case?"</p> + +<p>"My father was not three and twenty when he married—two years younger +than I am at this present hour—and yet the idea of matrimony has +never shaped itself in my mind. But you must not infer from anything +I have said that my father's has been an unhappy marriage. On the +contrary, he is devoted to my mother, and she to him. I cannot imagine +a better assorted couple. Each supplies the qualities wanting in the +other. She is all movement, impulse, and spontaneousness. He is calm +and meditative, with depths of thought and feeling which no one has +sounded. They are perfectly happy as husband and wife. But there is +a shade of melancholy that steals over my father in quiet, unoccupied +hours, which indicates a sorrow or a disappointment in the past. I have +taken it to mean an unhappy love-affair. I may be utterly wrong, and +the shadow may be cast by a disappointed ambition. It is not unlikely +that a man of powerful intellect and lymphatic temperament should feel +that he had wasted opportunities, and failed in life. It is quite easy +to imagine ambition without the energy to achieve."</p> + +<p>She made no comment upon this, but Allan could see in her eager +countenance that she was intensely interested.</p> + +<p>"Is your mother beautiful?" she asked timidly.</p> + +<p>It seemed a foolish and futile question; and it jarred upon that +serious thought of his parents which had been inspired by her previous +questioning. But, after all, it was a natural question for a woman to +ask, and he smiled as he answered—</p> + +<p>"No, my mother is not beautiful. I am not guilty of treason as a son +if I confess that she is plain, since she herself would be the first +to take offence at any sophistication of the truth. She has never +set up for being other than she is. She has a fine countenance and +a fine figure, straight as a dart, with a waist which a girl might +acknowledge without a blush. She dresses with admirable taste, and +always looks well, after her own fashion, exclusive of beautiful +features or brilliant colouring. She is what women call stylish, and +men distinguished. I am as proud as I am fond of her."</p> + +<p>"Will she come to see you in your new home?"</p> + +<p>"Most assuredly my mother will pay me a visit before the summer is +over, and I shall be charmed to bring you and her together."</p> + +<p>"And your father? Will not he come?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He is very difficult to move. He is like the lichen +on the old stone walls at home. He takes no particular interest in +chairs and tables; he would care not a fig for my new surroundings. +Besides, he saw Beechhurst years ago, when the Admiral was building and +improving. He has no curiosity to bring him here; and as for his son, +he knows he has only to want me for me to be at his side."</p> + +<p>After this there came a silence. Certainly Mrs. Wornock was not gifted +as a conversationalist. She sat looking straight before her at the long +perspective of lawn and cypress, broad gravel walk, and narrow grass +plots, all verging to a point at which the old house rose square and +grey, crowned with cupola and bell. The peacocks strutted slowly along +the narrow lawn. The waters of a fountain flashed in the warm sunlight. +It was a garden that recalled Tivoli, or that old grave garden of the +Vatican, with its long level walks and prim flower-beds, in which +the Holy Father takes his restricted airing. In the Vatican pleasure +grounds there are peacocks and clipped hedges, and smooth greensward, +and formal cypress avenues, and quaint arbours; but the hum of Rome, +the echoes of the Papal Barrack, the rush of the Tiber are near; and +not even in that antique garden can there be this summer silence, +profound as in the enchanted isle where it seemeth always afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Tell me more about yourself, your childhood, your youth," Mrs. Wornock +asked suddenly, with an air of agitated impatience which took Allan by +surprise.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington had prepared him for a certain eccentricity in the +lonely lady of Discombe; but the strangeness of her manner was even +more than he had expected.</p> + +<p>"There is very little to tell about my own life," he said. "I have +lived at home for the most part, except when I was at Eton and +Cambridge. My father helped me in all my studies. I never had any other +tutor except at the University. My home life was of the quietest. +Fendyke is twenty miles from Cambridge, but it seems at the end of the +world. The single line of rail that leads to it comes to a full stop. +The terminus stands in the midst of a Dutch landscape—level fields +divided by shallow dykes, a river so straight that it might as well +be a canal, water-mills, pollarded willows, broad clean roads, and +fine old Norman churches large enough for a city, no Sunday trains, +and not many on lawful days. A neat little town, with decent shops, +and comfortable inns, and a market which only awakens from a Pompeian +slumber for an hour or two on Fridays. A land of rest and plenty, +picturesque cottages and trim cottage gardens, an air of prosperity +which I believe is real. So much for our town and surroundings. For the +family mansion picture to yourself a long low house, built partly of +brick and partly of wood, with chimney-stacks that contain brick enough +for the building of respectable houses, and which have defied the gales +sweeping down from the Ural mountains—there is nothing, mark you, +between Fendyke and the Urals—ever since Queen Elizabeth was young +enough to pace a pavan."</p> + +<p>"You must be fond of an old house like that."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am very fond of Fendyke. I even love the surrounding country, +though I can but wish Nature had not ironed the landscape with her +mammoth iron. She might have left us a few creases, a wrinkled meadow +here and there."</p> + +<p>"I have heard that people born in Norfolk and Suffolk have an innate +antipathy to hills."</p> + +<p>"That may be. Indeed, I have noticed in the East Anglians a kind of +stubborn pride in the flatness of their soil. But I have not that +perverted pride in ugliness, since I was not born in Suffolk."</p> + +<p>"Indeed!"</p> + +<p>"No. My father lived in Sussex—at Hayward's Heath—at the time of his +marriage, and for half a dozen years after my birth. Fendyke came to +him from his maternal grandfather, who left the estate to his daughter +and heiress, and to her son after her, who was to assume the name and +arms of Carew when he succeeded to the property. My father's name was +Beresford."</p> + +<p>There was no reply—no further questioning on Mrs. Wornock's part—and +for some minutes Allan abandoned himself to the dreamy silence of the +scene, content to watch the peacocks on the lawn, and to listen to the +splash of the fountains.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the silence surprised him, and he turned to look at +his companion. Her head had fallen back against the wall of the +summer-house, her eyes were closed, and her face was white as death. +She was in a dead faint; and they were at least a quarter of a mile +from the house.</p> + +<p>The situation was awkward for Allan, though there was nothing in so +simple a matter as a fainting-fit to surprise him. He knew that there +are women who faint at the smallest provocation, in a crowded room, in +the sunshine, at church, anywhere. Here the sunshine was perhaps to +blame; that delicious pure sunlight in which he had been basking.</p> + +<p>He gave a long Australian cooe, long enough and loud enough to have +brought help in the wilderness, and assuredly calculated to attract +some gardener at work within call. Then he bethought himself of the +fountain, and ran to get some water in his hat.</p> + +<p>At the first dash of water, Mrs. Wornock opened her eyes, with a little +sobbing sigh, and looked at him as if wondering who and what he was.</p> + +<p>"I knew he would have answered my prayer," she murmured brokenly, +"spirit to spirit, ghost to ghost."</p> + +<p>It seemed a worse kind of faint than Allan had supposed, for now her +mind was wandering.</p> + +<p>"I fear the sun was too warm for you," he said, standing before her +in painful embarrassment, half expecting some indication of absolute +lunacy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, it was the sun," she answered nervously. "The glare is so +strong this afternoon; and this summer-house is shadeless. I must go +back to the house. It was very foolish of me to faint. I am so sorry. I +hope you won't consider me a very silly person."</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs. Wornock, I have never heard that a fainting-fit on a warm +summer afternoon is a sign of silliness."</p> + +<p>"No, it is a thing one cannot help, can one? But it must have been so +unpleasant for you. Ah, here is one of the gardeners," as a man came +hurrying towards her, with a scared countenance. "There is nothing the +matter, Henry. I am quite well now, Mr. Carew, and I can walk back to +the house. And so your father's original name was Beresford. Does he +call himself Beresford-Carew?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, in all important documents; but he is a man too careless of forms +to trouble himself much about the first name; and it has fallen into +disuse for the most part, Carew being the name of honour in our county. +He is known at Fendyke and in the neighbourhood simply as Squire Carew. +I sign myself Beresford-Carew sometimes, when I want to distinguish +myself from the numerous clan of Carews in Devonshire and elsewhere. +Will you take my arm to go back to the house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes"—timidly and faintly—"I shall be very glad of your support."</p> + +<p>She put her hand through his arm, and walked slowly and silently by his +side. Returning consciousness had brought back very little colour to +her face. It had still an almost unearthly pallor. She walked the whole +distance without uttering a word. A faint sigh fluttered her lips two +or three times during that slow promenade, and on her drooping lashes +Allan saw the glitter of a tear. For some reason or other she was +deeply moved; or it might be that her fainting-fits always took this +emotional form. He saw her safely seated on her own sofa, with footman +and maid in attendance upon her, before he took a brief adieu.</p> + +<p>"You'll come and see me again, I hope," she said, with a faint smile, +as she gave him her hand at parting.</p> + +<p>"I shall be most happy," he murmured, doubtful within himself whether +he would ever hazard a repetition of this agitating finale to an +afternoon call.</p> + +<p>To be interrogated about himself and his surroundings, with an eager +curiosity which was certainly startling, and then to find himself +<i>tête-à-tête</i> with an unconscious fellow-creature was an ordeal +that few young men would care to repeat.</p> + +<p>When he described his visit next day to Mrs. Mornington, she only +shrugged her shoulders and said decisively, "Hysteria! Too much money, +too much leisure, and no respectable connections. If there is one woman +I pity more than another that woman is Mrs. Wornock."</p> + +<p>"If ever I call on her again it must be with you or with my mother," +said Allan. "I won't face her alone."</p> + +<p>Although he came to this decision about the lady, he found himself not +the less disposed to dwell upon her image during the days and weeks +that followed his afternoon at Discombe; and more than once he asked +himself whether there might not be some more cogent reason for her +fainting-fit than the sun's warmth or the sun's glare—whether that +deep interest which she had evinced in all he could tell her of home +and parents might not be founded on something more serious than an idle +woman's idle curiosity.</p> + +<p>Could it be that he had lighted upon some trace of that mystery in his +father's past life—that mystery which, without tangible evidence, he +had always imagined as the key-note to his father's character in later +years? She had fainted immediately upon his telling her his father's +former name. Was that a mere coincidence of time, or was the name the +cause of the fainting-fit?</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Lady Emily arrived on a visit to her son while he was pondering +this unanswerable question about Mrs. Wornock, and he caught at the +opportunity. He hardly allowed his mother time to inspect his house and +gardens, and the small farm which supplied his larder, and to give her +opinion upon the furnishing of the rooms and the arrangement of the +flower-beds and lawns, before he suggested taking her to call upon his +neighbour at Discombe.</p> + +<p>"But why, Allan? why should I call upon this Mrs. Wornock, when I am a +stranger in the land?" argued his mother. "If there is any question of +calling, it is Mrs. Wornock who must call upon me."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but this lady is an exception to all rules, mother. She calls upon +hardly anybody, and she has begged me to go and see her, and I feel a +kind of hesitation in going alone—a second time."</p> + +<p>He stopped in sudden embarrassment. He did not wish to tell his mother +about the fainting-fit, though he had described the thing freely to +Mrs. Mornington. He had thought more seriously of the circumstance +since that conversation, and he was inclined to attach more importance +to it now than at that time.</p> + +<p>"I think you would be interested in Mrs. Wornock, mother," he urged, +after a pause, during which Lady Emily had been pacing the room from +window to wall with the idea of suggesting a bay to be thrown out +where there was now only a flat French casement.</p> + +<p>"Allan, you alarm me. I think you must be in love with this eccentric +widow. You told me she was very rich, didn't you? It might not be a bad +match for you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not, if Mrs. Wornock had any penchant for me; and if I wanted +a wife old enough to be my mother. Do you know that the lady has a son +as old as I am?"</p> + +<p>He reddened at the thought of that son, whose likeness to Beresford +Carew was startling enough to surprise Lady Emily, and might possibly +occasion unpleasant suspicions. And yet accidental likenesses are so +common in this world that it would be weak to be scared by such a +resemblance.</p> + +<p>Would he be wise in taking his mother to Discombe? Perhaps not. He had +made up his mind to take her there, wisely or foolishly. He wanted to +bring her plain common sense to bear upon Mrs. Wornock's fantastic +temperament.</p> + +<p>"My mother is the shrewdest woman I know," he told himself. "She will +read Mrs. Wornock's character much better than I can."</p> + +<p>Lady Emily was the soul of good nature, and was particularly free from +the trammels of conventionality; so, when she found her son had the +matter at heart, she waived all question of the caller and the called +upon, and allowed Allan to drive her to Discombe on the afternoon after +her arrival at Beechhurst; and the drive and the approach to the Manor +were very agreeable to her.</p> + +<p>"You are really prettier hereabouts than we are in Suffolk," she said +condescendingly; "but you have not our wide expanse of field and +meadow, our open horizon. Those high downs have a cramping effect on +your landscape—they narrow your outlook, and shut you in too much. +Your sunsets must be very poor, in a broken-up country like this."</p> + +<p>The weather was more sultry than on Allan's previous visit. Summer had +ripened, the roses were in bloom, and the last purple petal had fallen +in the rhododendron jungle through which they drove to the Manor House.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock was at home. Vain for the footman to deny it, even had he +been so minded, for the deep-toned music of the organ was pealing along +the corridor. The chords which begin Beethoven's Funeral March for the +Burial of a Hero crashed out, solemnly and slowly, as Lady Emily and +her son approached the music-room; and when, at the opening of the +door, the player stopped suddenly, the silence was more startling than +the music had been.</p> + +<p>Startling, too, to see the fragile form of the player, and the +semi-transparent hands which had produced that volume of sound.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea you were so fine a musician, Mrs. Wornock," Lady Emily +said graciously, after the introduction had been got over, the lady of +Discombe standing before her timidly in the broad sunlight from the +open window, so fragile, so youthful-looking, so unlike the mistress +of a great house, and the chief personage in a rustic parish. "My son +was eloquent in your praise, but he forgot to tell me of your musical +talent."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I have much talent," answered Mrs. Wornock, +hesitatingly. "I am very fond of music—that is all."</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal in that ALL. I wish my love of music—and Allan +knows I prefer a good concert to any other form of entertainment—would +enable me to play as you do, for then I could take the place of the +stupidest organist in England at our parish church."</p> + +<p>Lady Emily was making conversation, seeing that Mrs. Wornock's lips +were mute and dry, as if she were absolutely speechless from fright. +A most extraordinary woman, thought Lady Emily, shy to a degree that +bordered on lunacy.</p> + +<p>The talk had all to be done by Allan and his mother, since Mrs. +Wornock's share in it was hardly more than monosyllabic. She assented +to everything they said—she contradicted herself over and over again +about the weather, and about the distinguishing features of the +surrounding country. She agreed with Lady Emily that the hills spoiled +the landscape; she assented to Allan's protestation that the hills +were the chief charm of the neighbourhood. She rang for tea, and when +the servants had brought tables and tray and tea-kettle, she sat as in +a dream for ever so long before she became conscious that the things +were there, and that she had a duty to perform. Then she filled the +cups with tremulous hands, and allowed Allan to help her through the +simplest details.</p> + +<p>Her obvious distress strengthened Allan's suspicions. There must be +some mystery behind all this embarrassment. Mrs. Wornock could hardly +behave in this way to every stranger who called upon her. Of all women +living no one was less calculated to inspire awe than Lady Emily Carew. +Good humour was writ large upon her open countenance. The milk of human +kindness gave softness to her speech. She was full of consideration for +others.</p> + +<p>Distracted by the music of the organ, Lady Emily had not even glanced +at the Millais portrait which faced her as she walked along the +corridor. It was, therefore, with unmixed astonishment that she +observed a photograph on an easel conspicuous on a distant table—a +photograph which she took to be the likeness of her son.</p> + +<p>"I see you have given Mrs. Wornock your photo, Allan," she said. "That +is more than you have done for me since you were at the University."</p> + +<p>"Go and look at the photo, mother, and you will see I have not been so +wanting in filial duty."</p> + +<p>Lady Emily rose and went over to the table in the furthermost window.</p> + +<p>"No, I see it is another face; but there is a wonderful look of you. +Pray who is this nice-looking young man, Mrs. Wornock? I may call him +nice-looking with a good grace, since he is not my son. His features +are more refined than Allan's. The modelling of the face is more +delicate."</p> + +<p>"That is my son's portrait," answered Mrs. Wornock, "and it is thought +a good likeness. He is like Mr. Carew, is he not? Almost startlingly +like; but the resemblance is less striking in the picture than in the +living face. It is in expression that the two faces are alike."</p> + +<p>"I begin to understand why you are interested in my son," said Lady +Emily, smiling down at the face on the easel. "The two young men might +be brothers. Pray how old is this young gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"He will be six and twenty in August."</p> + +<p>"And Allan was twenty-five last March. And is Mr. Wornock an only son, +like my Allan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have only him. When he is away, I am quite alone—except for my +organ and piano. I try sometimes to think they are both alive."</p> + +<p>"What a pity you have no daughter! A place like this looks as if it +wanted a daughter. But you and I are in the same desolate condition. +Allan is all I have—and my white farm."</p> + +<p>"Mother, why not my white farm and Allan?" said her son laughingly. "If +you knew more of my mother, Mrs. Wornock, if you knew her in Suffolk, +you would be very likely to think the farm first and not second in her +dear love. Perhaps you, too, are interested in farming."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock smiled a gentle negative, and gave a glance at the triple +keyboard yonder, which was eloquent of meaning. A glance which seemed +to ask, "Who could waste time upon cowhouse and poultry-yard when all +the master-spirits of harmony are offering their mysteries to the +faithful student?"</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"Well, mother, how do you like the mistress of Discombe?" asked Allan, +as they drove homeward.</p> + +<p>"She is very refined—rather graceful—dreadfully shy," answered his +mother, musingly; "and I hope you won't be angry with me, Allan, if I +add that she seems to me half an idiot."</p> + +<p>"You saw her to-day at a disadvantage," said Allan, and then lapsed +into meditative silence.</p> + +<p>Had he not also seen this strange woman at a disadvantage when she +fainted at the mention of his father's name—the name his father +had borne in youth, not the name by which he was known now? Her +fainting-fit might have had no significance in his eyes if it had not +followed upon her eager questioning about his father. And whatever +suspicions had been excited by that first visit were intensified by +Mrs. Wornock's manner in the presence of Lady Emily. Such obvious +embarrassment—a shyness so much more marked than that with which she +had received him on his first visit—could hardly exist without a +deeper cause than solitary habits or nervous temperament.</p> + +<p>The likeness between Geoffrey Wornock and himself might have meant no +more than the likeness between Mr. Drummond and Sir Robert Peel; but +that likeness, taken in conjunction with Mrs. Wornock's extraordinary +interest in his father, and most noticeable embarrassment in receiving +his mother, might mean a great deal—might mean, indeed, that the cloud +upon his father's life was the shadow of a lifelong remorse, the dark +memory of sin and sorrow. It might be that within the years preceding +his marriage George Beresford had been involved in a guilty intrigue +with Mr. Wornock's young wife.</p> + +<p>To believe this was to think very badly of this gentle creature, who +used the advantages of wealth and position with such modest restraint, +whose only delight in life was in one of the most exalted of life's +pleasures. To believe this was to think Mrs. Wornock a false and +ungrateful wife to a generous husband; and it was to believe George +Beresford a vulgar seducer.</p> + +<p>If there is one fallacy to which the non-legal mind is more prone +than another it is its belief in its power to estimate the value of +circumstantial evidence. Allan Carew tried his father and Mrs. Wornock +by the evidence of circumstances, and he found them guilty.</p> + +<p>"My mother shall never cross that woman's threshold again!" he decided, +angry with himself for having taken Lady Emily to Discombe.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">MORE NEW-COMERS.</p> + + +<p>Allan recalled the story which Mrs. Mornington had told him of +Mr. Wornock's marriage, and the mysterious birth of his son and +heir—mysterious in that it was a strange thing for an English +gentleman with a fine estate to carry off his wife to a foreign country +before the birth of her first child, and to remain an exile from home +and property until his son was three years old. Mystery of some kind—a +secret sorrow or a secret shame—must have been at the root of conduct +so unusual; and might not that secret include the story of the young +wife's sin?</p> + +<p>Allan Carew had heard of husbands so beneficent as to forgive that sin +which to the mind of the average man lies beyond reach of pardon; +husbands who have taken back runaway wives, and set the fallen idol +once again in the temple of home-life; husbands who, knowing themselves +old, ugly, and unlovable, have palliated and pardoned the passionate +impulses of undisciplined girlhood, the sin in which there has been +more of romantic folly than of profligate inclination; husbands who +have asked themselves whether <i>they</i> were not the darker sinners +in having possessed themselves of creatures so lovely and so frail, so +unadapted for a passionless, workaday union with grey hairs and old +age. It might be, Allan thought, that Mr. Wornock was one of these, +and that he had conveyed his young wife away from the scene of her sin +and the influence of her betrayer, and had hidden her shame and his +dishonour in that quiet valley among the snow-peaks and the glaciers. +But if Mrs. Wornock had so sinned in the early days of her married life +there must be people at Matcham who would remember the lover's presence +at Discombe, even although his real character had been undiscovered by +the searching eyes of village censors.</p> + +<p>Lady Emily went back to her husband and her farm after a week at +Beechhurst—a pleasant and busy week, in which the mother's experience +and good sense had been brought to bear upon all the details of the +son's household and domestic possessions—plate and linen, glass and +china, books and ornaments.</p> + +<p>"If it were not for your smoking-room, or drawing-room, or whatever you +may be pleased to call it, your house would be obviously Philistine," +said Lady Emily; "but that is a really fine room, and there are some +pretty things in it."</p> + +<p>"Some pretty things? Yes, there are a few," answered Allan, laughing +at her tone of patronage. "I was offered five hundred pounds for that +piece of tapestry which hangs in front of the conservatory doors by +a man who thinks himself a judge of such things. The room is full of +treasures from the Summer Palace."</p> + +<p>"My brother must have looted in a most audacious manner!"</p> + +<p>"No, he bought the things afterwards—mostly from the French sailors, +who were licensed to steal or destroy. I believe the bronzes, and +porcelain, and ivories, and embroideries that the admiral bought for +a few hundreds are worth as many thousands. But there they are, and I +must be very hard up before I disturb them."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Allan called upon Mrs. Mornington the day after his mother's departure, +and was lucky enough to find that lady at home and alone.</p> + +<p>She was sitting in her verandah, sewing, with a large basket of plain +work on the ground beside her, and her scissors and other implements on +a wicker-table in front of her. She had a trellis covered with climbing +roses for a background, and a sunny lawn, a sunk fence, and a paddock +dotted with Jersey cows for her outlook.</p> + +<p>"I'm at work for the Guild," she said, apologetically, after shaking +hands with Allan, and she went on herring-boning a flannel waistcoat; +a waistcoat of that stout flannel which is supposed to have a kind of +affinity with the skin of the agricultural labourer, although it can be +worn comfortably by no other class.</p> + +<p>Allan knew nothing about the Guild, but was accustomed to see Mrs. +Mornington's superfluous energy expending itself in some kind of +needlework. He seated himself in the comfortable armchair to which she +invited him, and prepared himself for a long talk.</p> + +<p>Of course he could not begin at once upon the subject of Mrs. Wornock. +That would have to be introduced casually. He talked about his mother, +and her regret at not having been able to stay till the following week, +when Mrs. Mornington was to give a small dance, to which Lady Emily and +her son had been invited.</p> + +<p>"She can't be as sorry as I am, or she'd have managed to stay," replied +Mrs. Mornington, in her blunt style.</p> + +<p>"She has my father to think of. She is never long away from him."</p> + +<p>"Why don't he come too?"</p> + +<p>"I hope to get him for a week or so before the summer is over. He +promises to come and look at my surroundings; but he is very much of a +recluse. He lives in his library."</p> + +<p>"I dare say he will contrive to come when Philip and I are away on our +August holiday. We always take a month on the Continent just to keep +us in touch with the outside world, and to remind us that the earth +doesn't end on the other side of Salisbury. Do you know why I am giving +this dance?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure it is from a conscientious motive—to pay your debts. I find +that most ladies' hospitalities are founded upon a system of exchange +and barter, 'cutlet for cutlet,' as Lady Londonderry called it."</p> + +<p>"It is very rude of you to say that—as if women had no real +hospitality! No, Mr. Carew, I owe no one anything in the dancing line; +and I am not making one evening party pay for a whole year's dinners. +I have known that done, I assure you. No, I am turning my house out +of windows, and making poor Phil utterly miserable, for the sake of a +certain young half-French niece of mine, who is coming to live in this +neighbourhood with my brother Bob, her thoroughly English father."</p> + +<p>"You mean General Vincent? Some one told me that he was related to you."</p> + +<p>"Related? I should think he was related to me! He used to pull my +hair—we wore long plaits in those days, don't you know—with a +ferocity only possible in an elder brother. Poor dear old Bob! I am +monstrously pleased at the idea of having him near me in our old +age. He has been tossed and beaten about the world for the last +thirty years, at home and abroad, and now he is to enjoy enforced +leisure, and the noble income which our country bestows upon a retired +lieutenant-general. He has a little money of his own, fortunately, and +a little more from his wife; so he will be able to live comfortably at +Marsh House—in a very quiet, unpretentious way, <i>bien entendu</i>."</p> + +<p>"He is a widower, I conclude?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; his pretty French wife died fifteen years ago. He met her in +Canada, but she was a Parisian <i>pur sang</i>, and of a very good +family. She had gone to Montreal with her mother, to visit some +relations—uncle, cousin, or what-not. It was a very happy marriage, +and Suzette is a very charming girl. She is a Papist"—with a faint +sigh—"which, of course, is a pity. But even in spite of that, she is a +very sweet girl."</p> + +<p>"Worthy that you should turn your house out of window in order to +introduce her to the neighbourhood in the pleasantest possible manner," +said Allan. "My greenhouse is only a bachelor's idea of glass, but any +flowers there shall be sent to add to your decorations—at least, if +you don't despise such poor aid."</p> + +<p>"How truly nice of you! Every flower will be useful. I want to make the +rooms pretty, since nothing can make them spacious. Ah, if I had only +the Manor House now—those noble rooms of which Mrs. Wornock makes so +little use!"</p> + +<p>Allan seized his opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wornock is the most singular woman I ever met!" he exclaimed +quickly, lest Mrs. Mornington should diverge to another subject. "I +took my mother to call upon her——"</p> + +<p>"Had she called upon Lady Emily?" asked Mrs. Mornington, surprised.</p> + +<p>"No. It was altogether out of order, my mother told me; but I rather +insisted upon her going to Discombe. I wanted her to see Mrs. Wornock; +and I must say that lady's manner was calculated to excite wonder +rather than admiration. I never saw a woman of mature years receive +a visitor so awkwardly. Her shyness would have been remarkable in a +bread-and-butter miss just escaped from the schoolroom."</p> + +<p>"That is so like Mrs. Wornock. The ways of society are a foreign +language to her. Had you taken her a German organist with long hair, +or a spiritualist, or an esoteric Buddhist, she would have received him +with open arms—she would have been <i>simpatica</i> to the highest +degree, and would have impressed him with the idea of a sensitive +nature and a temperament akin to genius, while I dare say Lady Emily +thought her a fool."</p> + +<p>"She certainly did not give the lady credit for superior intelligence."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. She has not even average intelligence in the affairs +of social life. She has lived all these years at Discombe—she +might be in touch with some of the best people in the county—and +she has learnt nothing, except to play the organ. I believe she has +toiled unremittingly at <i>that</i>," concluded Mrs. Mornington, +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"I have half forgotten what you told me about her in the first +instance. I think you spoke of a mystery in her early life."</p> + +<p>"The only mystery was that old Wornock should have married her, and +that he should have told us nothing about her belongings. Had she been +a lady, we must have heard something about her people in the last five +and twenty years; and yet there is a refinement about her which makes +me think she could not have sprung from the gutter."</p> + +<p>"The gutter! No, indeed! She has an air of exceptional refinement. +I should take her to be the offspring of an effete race—a +crystallization. In her early married life, when she and Mr. Wornock +were living together at Discombe, she had friends, I presume. They must +have had visitors occasionally—a house-party?"</p> + +<p>"Not they. You must remember that it was not more than six months after +Mr. Wornock brought his young wife home when he took her away again——"</p> + +<p>"But in the interim," interrupted Allan, eagerly, "they must have had +visitors in the house! He would be proud to exhibit his pretty young +wife. There must have been men-friends of his coming and going during +that time."</p> + +<p>"I think not. He was a dry chip; and I don't think he had made many +friends in the forty years he had reigned at Discombe. I never heard +of any one staying in the house, either at that time or previously. +He was hospitable in a casual way to the neighbourhood while he was +a bachelor—gave a hunt breakfast every winter, and a good many +dinners—but he was not a man to make friends. He was an ardent +politician and an ardent Radical, and would have quarrelled with any +one who wasn't of his way of thinking."</p> + +<p>A blank here. No hint of a too-frequent visitor, of one figure standing +out against the quiet background of home-life, of one person whose +coming and going had been marked enough to attract attention.</p> + +<p>Allan breathed more freely. It was no prurient curiosity which had led +him to pry into the secrets of the past. He wanted to know the truth; +yet it would have been agony to him to discover anything that would +lessen his reverent admiration for his father, or his belief in his +father's honour and high principle. Sitting idle in the sunshine beside +Mrs. Mornington, he tried to think that there might be nothing more +than eccentricity in Mrs. Wornock's conduct, no indication of a dark +secret in her fainting-fit, or in her embarrassed manner during his +mother's visit.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington went back to the subject of her dance—her niece, her +brother, his income, his establishment, and the how much or how little +he could afford to spend. She lamented the dearth of dancing men.</p> + +<p>"Both my boys are away," she said, "Luke with his regiment in Burmah, +Fred in London. <i>He</i> might run down for the evening if he liked; +but you know what young men are. Well, perhaps you are more civilized +than Frederick. He pretends to hate dancing-parties; yet, when we spent +a winter at Cannes, he was at a ball nearly every night. He despises my +poor little dance."</p> + +<p>"I am sure your little dance will be delightful."</p> + +<p>"I hope it will not be dull. I am straining every nerve to make it a +success. I shall have the house full of nice young people, and I shall +have decent music. Only four men, but they will be very good men, and +four will make quite enough noise in my poor little rooms."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington's "poor little rooms" included a drawing-room thirty +feet long, opening into a spacious conservatory. There was a wide bay +at the end of the room which would accommodate the grand piano and +the four musicians. Allan had to make a tour of inspection with the +mistress of the house before he left, and to express his approval of +her arrangements.</p> + +<p>"There will be a comfortable old-fashioned sit-down supper," she said +finally. "I have asked a good many middle-aged people, and there will +be nothing for <i>them</i> to do but eat."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">LIKE THE MOTH TO THE FLAME.</p> + + +<p>A small dance in a bright airy country house on a balmy summer evening +is about as pleasant a form of entertainment as can be offered to the +youthful mind not satiated by metropolitan entertainments, by balls +in Park Lane, where the flowers alone cost the price of an elderly +spinster's annuity, Bachelors' balls, and Guards' balls, American balls +in Carlton Gardens, patrician balls in grand old London houses, built +in the days when rank was as much apart from the herd and the newly +rich as royalty; when rank and royalty moved hand-in-hand on a plateau +of privilege and splendour as high above the commonality as Madrid is +above the sea.</p> + +<p>Matcham, which gave itself the airs common to all village communities, +pretended to make very light of Mrs. Mornington's dance; a summer +dance, when everybody worth meeting was, or ought to be, in London. +Happily for Mrs. Mornington, the inhabitants of Matcham were a +stay-at-home race—who had neither money nor enterprise for much +gadding. To go to Swanage or Budleigh Salterton for a month or so while +the leaves were falling was the boldest flight that Matcham people +cared about.</p> + +<p>There was always so much to do at home—golf, tennis, shooting, +hunting, falconry, fishing for the enthusiasts of rod and line, and +one's garden and stable all the year round, needing the eye of master +and mistress. Except for the absence of the great shipbuilder's family, +at Hillerby Height, three miles on the other side of Salisbury, the +circle of Matcham society was complete, and the answers to Mrs. +Mornington's cards were all acceptances.</p> + +<p>Allan went cheerfully enough to the party, but he did not go very +early, and he had something of the feeling which most young men +entertain, or affect, about dances, the feeling that he was sacrificing +himself at the shrine of friendship. He danced well, and he did not +dislike dancing—liked it, indeed, when blest with a good partner; but +it is not often that a young man can escape the chances of partners +that are not altogether good, and Allan felt very doubtful as to the +dancing capacities of Matcham. Those healthy, out-of-door young women, +who went to about half a dozen dances in a year, would hardly waltz +well enough to make waltzing anything but toil and weariness.</p> + +<p>He approached the Grove in that state of placid indifference with +which a man generally goes to meet his destiny. He looks back in the +after-time, and remembers that equable frame of mind, hoping nothing, +expecting nothing, content with his lot in life, and in no wise eager +to question or forestall fate—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">"Tu ne quæsieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Finem di dederint."</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The Grove was a long, low stuccoed house, built at the beginning of +the century, a house spread over a considerable extent of ground. +To-night—with lights and flowers, and all the doors and windows +open to the summer gloom, and lace draperies where doors had been, +and white-gowned girls moving to and fro, and the sound of a Strauss +waltz mixing with the voices of the idlers sitting in the hall—Mrs. +Mornington's house was as pretty as a fairy palace, and as much unlike +itself in its workaday guise.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington, in black lace and diamonds, with a black ostrich fan, +loomed with commanding bulk on the threshold of the dancing-room. She +wanted no steward, no master of the ceremonies to help her. Alone she +did it! Mr. Mornington walked about and pretended to be useful; but it +was Mrs. Mornington who did everything. She received the guests, she +introduced the few strange young men to the many local young ladies. As +for the local young men, whom she had seen grow up from sailor suits +and mud-pies to pink coats which marked them members of the South Sarum +Hunt, her dominion over these was absolute. She drove them about with +threatening movements of her large black fan. She would not allow them +rest or respite, would not let them hang together in corners to discuss +the hunters they were summering, or the hunters they were thinking of +buying, or the probable changes in the management of the kennels, or +any other subject dear to the minds of rustic youth.</p> + +<p>"You have come here to dance, Billy Walcott, and not to talk of those +wretched old screws of yours," said Mrs. Mornington. "You can have +that all out in the saddle-room to-morrow when you are smoking with +your grooms. Let me look at your programme, Sidney. Not half full, I +declare. Now go over to Miss Rycroft this instant, and engage her for +the next waltz."</p> + +<p>"Come now, Mrs. Mornington, that's rather too rough on me. A man mayn't +marry his grandmother; and surely there's some kind of law to forbid +his dancing with a woman who looks like his great-aunt."</p> + +<p>"Sidney, love, to oblige me. The dear old thing has gone to the expense +of a new frock——"</p> + +<p>"She might have bought a little more stuff while she was about it," +murmured the youth.</p> + +<p>"On purpose for my dance, and <i>somebody</i> must give her a waltz. +Come, boys, who shall it be?"</p> + +<p>"Let's go into the garden and toss up," said Sidney Heathfield; but +the other youths protested that they were engaged for every dance, and +Sidney, who had come late, and whose programme was only half full, had +to submit.</p> + +<p>"I'll do it, Mrs. Mornington," he said, with serio-comic resignation, +"on condition you get me a dance with Miss Vincent afterwards."</p> + +<p>"If I do, she will have to cheat somebody else. Her programme was +full a quarter of an hour after she came into the room. My niece is a +success."</p> + +<p>Young Heathfield made his way to a distant bench, where an elderly +young lady of expansive figure, set off by a pink-gauze frock, had been +sitting for an hour and a half, smiling blandly upon her friends and +acquaintance, with a growing sense of despair.</p> + +<p>What had come over the young men of the present generation, when good +dancers were allowed to sit partnerless and forlorn? It all came of the +absence of men of standing and mature age at evening parties. Sensible +men were so disgusted by the slang and boldness of chits just escaped +from the schoolroom that they held themselves aloof, and ball-rooms +were given over to boys and girls, and to romping galops and kitchen +lancers.</p> + +<p>Here was one sensible boy at least, thought poor Miss Rycroft, as +Sidney Heathfield, tall, slim, studiously correct, stood looking +solemnly down upon her, asking for the next waltz. Little did Miss +Rycroft dream of the pressure which had been put upon the youth by +yonder matron, whose voice was now heard loud and lively on the other +side of the lace curtains.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington was talking to Allan.</p> + +<p>"How horribly late you are, Mr. Carew. You don't deserve to find one +nice girl disengaged."</p> + +<p>"Even if I don't, I know one nice woman with whom I would as soon sit +and talk common sense as dance with the prettiest girl in Matcham."</p> + +<p>"If you mean me," said Mrs. Mornington, "there will be no commonsense +talk for you and me to-night. I have all these young men to keep in +order. Now, Billy," suddenly attacking Mr. Walcott, who was talking +mysteriously to a bosom friend about some one or something that was +seven off, with capped hocks, but a splendid lepper, "Billy, haven't I +told you that you were here to dance, not to talk stables? There's Miss +Forlander, the girl from Torquay, who plays golf so well, sitting like +a statue next Mrs. Paddington Brown."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Mornington," groaned the youth, as he strolled off, "what a +life you lead us! I hope you don't call this hospitality."</p> + +<p>"Am I not at least to be introduced to Miss Vincent, the heroine of the +evening?" asked Allan.</p> + +<p>"The heroine of the evening is behaving very badly," said Mrs. +Mornington. "I don't think I'll ever give a summer dance again. I wish +it had rained cats and dogs. Look at the dancing-room, half empty. +Those young people are all meandering about the garden, picking my +finest roses, I dare say, just to tear them to pieces in the game of +'he loves me, loves me not.'"</p> + +<p>"What better use could be made of a garden and roses? As long as you +have only the true lovers, and no Mephistopheles or Martha, your garden +is another Eden. But I must insist upon being introduced to Miss +Vincent before the evening is over."</p> + +<p>"I will do my best," said Mrs. Mornington, and then in a lower voice +she told him that she had ordered her niece to keep a late number open +for his name. "She is a very nice girl, and I think you are a nice +young man, and I should like you to know each other," concluded the +lady with her bluff straightforwardness.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mornington and an elderly stranger, with iron-grey hair and +iron-grey moustache, came across the hall at this moment.</p> + +<p>"Ah, here is my brother!" cried Mrs. Mornington. "Robert, I want +to introduce Mr. Carew to you. He is a new neighbour, but a great +favourite of mine."</p> + +<p>Allan stopped in the hall for about a quarter of an hour talking to +General Vincent and Mr. Mornington, and then he, too, was called to +order by his hostess, and was marched into the dancing-room to be +introduced to a Dresden-china young lady, pink and white and blue-eyed, +like Saxony porcelain, who had been brought by somebody, and who was a +stranger in the land.</p> + +<p>He waltzed with this young creature, who was pretty and daintily +dressed, and who asked him various questions about Salisbury Cathedral +and Stonehenge, evidently with the idea that she was adapting her +conversation to the locality. When the dance was over, she refused +his offer of an ice, and suggested a turn in the garden; so Allan +found himself among the meanderers under the moonlit sky; but there +was no plucking of roses or murmuring of "Loves me not, loves me, +loves me not," no thought of Gretchen's impassioned love-dream as the +Dresden-china young lady and he promenaded solemnly up and down the +broad gravel terrace in front of the open windows, still conversing +sagely about Salisbury Cathedral and the decoration of the Chapter +House.</p> + +<p>While parading slowly up and down, Allan found his attention wandering +every now and then from the young lady at his side to another young +lady who passed and repassed with an elderly cavalier. A tall, slim +young lady, with black hair and eyes, a pale brunette complexion, and +an elegant simplicity of dress and <i>chevelure</i> which Allan at +once recognized as Parisian. No English girl, he thought, ever had +that air of being more plainly dressed than other girls, and yet more +distinguished and fashionable. He had seen no frock like this girl's +frock, but he felt assured that she was dressed in that Parisian +fashion which is said to antedate London fashion by a twelvemonth.</p> + +<p>She was in white from head to foot, and her gown was made of some +dead-white fabric which combined the solidity of satin with the soft +suppleness of gauze. The bodice was rather short-waisted, and the young +lady wore a broad satin belt clasped with a diamond buckle, which +flashed with many coloured gleams in the moonlight, as she passed +to and fro; and whereas most young women at that time displayed a +prodigious length of arm broken only by a narrow shoulder-strap, this +young lady wore large puffed sleeves which recalled the portraits of +Sir Thomas Lawrence. The large puffed sleeves became common enough a +year later, but they were unknown in Wiltshire when Mrs. Mornington +gave her dance. The damsel's silky black hair was coiled with artistic +simplicity at the back of the prettily shaped head, while a cloud of +little careless curls clustered above the broad, intelligent forehead.</p> + +<p>She was talking gaily with her companion, Colonel Fordingbridge, a +retired engineer, settled for some fifteen years in the outskirts of +Matcham, and an intimate friend of Mr. Mornington's. He was telling +her about the neighbourhood, holding it up to contempt and ridicule +in a good-natured way which implied that, after all, it was the best +neighbourhood in the world.</p> + +<p>"It suits an old fellow like me," Allan heard him say; "plenty of sport +of a mildish order. Huntin', fishin', shootin', hawkin', and golf."</p> + +<p>"Hawking!" cried the young lady. "Do you really mean that? I thought +there were no more hawks left in the world. Why, it sounds like the +Middle Ages."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I'm afraid you'll say it looks like the Middle Ages when you +see a flight on the hills near Matcham. The members of the Falconry +Club in this neighbourhood are not all boys."</p> + +<p>"But the hawks!" exclaimed she. "Where—where can one see them?"</p> + +<p>"Have you really hawks?" inquired Allan's young lady, who had exhausted +the Chapter House, and who caught eagerly at another local subject. +"How utterly delightful! Do you go out with them very often?"</p> + +<p>"I blush to admit that I have not even seen them, though I know there +are such birds kept in the neighbourhood. I have even been invited +to become a member of the society, and am seriously thinking about +offering myself for election."</p> + +<p>Seriously thinking since two minutes ago, be it understood, for until +he caught that speech from the unknown young lady he had hardly given +falconry a thought.</p> + +<p>She and her companion had disappeared when he and his porcelain lady +turned at the end of the terrace.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that girl who was talking about the hawks?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have been introduced to her. She is the girl of the house."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you are missing a dance," said Allan, with grave concern. +"We had better go in, had we not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I fear I am behaving badly to somebody; but it is so much nicer +here than in those hot rooms."</p> + +<p>"Infinitely preferable; but one has a duty to one's neighbour."</p> + +<p>They met a youth in quest of the porcelain girl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Mercer, how could you desert me so long? Our waltz is half +over!"</p> + +<p>Allan breathed more freely, having handed over Miss Mercer. He made +his way quickly to the hall where Mrs. Mornington was still on +guard, receiving the latest comers, sending the first batch into the +supper-room, and dictating to everybody.</p> + +<p>"I shall not leave your elbow till you have introduced me to Miss +Vincent," he said, planting himself near his hostess.</p> + +<p>"If you don't take care, you will have to give me some supper," replied +she, "I am beginning to feel sinking. And I think it would be a good +plan for me to sup early in order to see that things are as they should +be."</p> + +<p>Allan's heart also began to sink. He knew what it meant to take a +matron in to supper; the leisurely discussion of salmon and cutlets, +the half-bottle of champagne, the gossip, lasting half an hour at the +least. And while he was ministering to Mrs. Mornington what chance +would he have of becoming acquainted with Mrs. Mornington's niece?</p> + +<p>"I should be proud to be so honoured; but think how many persons of +greater age and dignity you will offend. Colonel Fordingbridge, for +instance, such an old friend."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Fordingbridge has just gone in with my niece."</p> + +<p>"Oh, in that case, let me have the honour," exclaimed Allan eagerly, +almost dragging Mrs. Mornington towards the supper-room. "I should not +like to have offended dear old Fordingbridge."</p> + +<p>"We may get seats at their table, perhaps. I told Suzette to go to one +of the cosy little tables at the end of the room."</p> + +<p>Suzette! what a coquettish, enchanting name! He pushed past the long +table where two rows of people were talking, laughing, gobbling, as +if they never dined and had hardly tasted food for a week. He pushed +on to the end of the room where, on each side of the fireplace, now a +mass of golden lilies and palms, Mrs. Mornington had found space for a +small round table—a table which just held four people snugly, if not +commodiously.</p> + +<p>One of these tables had been made to accommodate six; the other had +just been left by the first batch of supper-eaters. Miss Vincent and +Colonel Fordingbridge were standing near while a servant re-arranged +the table.</p> + +<p>"That's lucky," said Mrs. Mornington. "Suzette, I want to introduce my +friend Mr. Carew to you—Mr. Carew—Miss Vincent. And after supper he +can take you to your father, whom I haven't seen for the last hour."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid he has gone home," replied the young lady, after +smilingly accepting the introduction. "I heard him ask Mrs. +Fordingbridge to take care of me if he should feel tired and be obliged +to go home. He can't bear being up late at night."</p> + +<p>"No wonder, when he is out and about at daybreak!"</p> + +<p>"The mornings are so nice," said Suzette.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for people like you, who can do without sleep; people who have +quicksilver in their veins."</p> + +<p>"One learns to be fond of the early morning in India," explained +Suzette.</p> + +<p>"Because every other part of the day is intolerable," said Colonel +Fordingbridge.</p> + +<p>They were seated by this time, and Mrs. Mornington was sipping her +first glass of champagne with an air of supreme content, while Allan +helped her to lobster mayonnaise. Suzette was on his other side; and +even while ministering to the elder lady his looks and his thoughts +were on the younger.</p> + +<p>How pretty she was, and how interesting. It seemed to him that he had +never cared for English beauty; the commonplace pinkness and whiteness, +chubby cheeks, blunt noses, cherry lips. Those delicate features, +that pale dark skin, those brilliant dark eyes and small white teeth +flashing upon him now and then as she smiled, with the most bewitching +mouth—a mouth that could express volumes in a smile, or by a pouting +movement of the flexible lips.</p> + +<p>Allan and she were good friends in about five minutes. He was +questioning and she answering. Surely, surely she did not like India as +well as England—a life of exile—a life under torrid skies? Surely, +surely, yes. There were a hundred things that she loved in India; those +three years of her life in the North-West Provinces had been years in +fairyland.</p> + +<p>"It must have been because you were worshipped," he said. "You lived +upon adulation. I'm afraid when a young lady is happy in India, it +means that she is not altogether innocent of vanity."</p> + +<p>"It is very unkind of you to say that. How sorry you must feel when I +tell you that the happiest half-year I spent in India was when father +was road-making, and the only other officer in camp was a fat, married +major—an immense major, as big as this table."</p> + +<p>"And you were happy! How?"</p> + +<p>"In all manner of ways; riding, rambling, botanizing, sketching, and +looking after father."</p> + +<p>"My niece is a Miss Crichton. She has all the accomplishments," said +Mrs. Mornington.</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunt! that is a dreadful character to give me. It means that I do +nothing well!"</p> + +<p>Allan had asked her for a dance, and there had been an examination of +her programme, which showed only one blank.</p> + +<p>"Auntie told me to keep that waltz," she said. "I don't know why."</p> + +<p>"I do. It was kept for me. I am the favoured one."</p> + +<p>"But why?" she asked naïvely. "Why you more than any one else?"</p> + +<p>"Who can say? Will you call me vain if I tell you that I think I am a +favourite with your aunt?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him laughingly, with a glance that asked a question.</p> + +<p>"You don't see any reason why I should be preferred," said Allan, +interpreting her look; "but remember there never is any reason for such +preferences. Clever women are full of prejudices."</p> + +<p>He could imagine a reason which he would not have had Suzette suspect +for worlds. Perhaps among the available young men in Mrs. Mornington's +circle he was the best placed, with an ample income in the present, and +an estate that must be his in the future, the best placed of all except +the young master of Discombe Manor; and the Lord of Discombe was away, +while he, Allan, was on the spot.</p> + +<p>The thought of Geoffrey Wornock suggested a question. They had left the +little table to Mrs. Mornington and Colonel Fordingbridge, who were +able to take care of each other. Allan and Miss Vincent were going to +the dancing-room, not by the nearest way, but through a French window +into the garden.</p> + +<p>"Shall we take a little turn before we go back to the house?"</p> + +<p>"I should like it of all things."</p> + +<p>"And you are not afraid of catching cold?"</p> + +<p>"On such a night as this? Why, in the hills I lived out-of-doors!"</p> + +<p>"You have been at Matcham before, I suppose!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father and I stayed here with auntie once upon a time."</p> + +<p>"Long ago?"</p> + +<p>"Ages ago, when I wore short petticoats and wasn't allowed late dinner."</p> + +<p>"Heartless tyranny!"</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it? I didn't know what to do with myself in the long summer +evenings. I used to roam about this garden till I was tired, and then +I would go and look in at the dining-room window where they were all +sitting at dessert, and auntie would wave me away, 'Go and play, +child.' Play, indeed! Even the gardeners had gone home, and the dogs +were shut up for the night. I was actually glad when it was nine +o'clock and bedtime."</p> + +<p>"Poor victim of middle-aged egotism."</p> + +<p>"Dear auntie! She is so good! But people don't understand children. +They forget what their own feelings were when they were little."</p> + +<p>"Alas, yes! A child is as great a mystery to me to-day as if I had been +born at one and twenty. I can't even understand or interest myself in +a lad of fifteen. He seems such an incongruous, unnecessary creature, +stupid, lumbering, in everybody's way. I can't realize the fact that he +will ever get any better. He is there, complete in himself, a being of +a race apart. I should feel insulted if any one were to tell me I had +ever been like him."</p> + +<p>"How true that is!" assented Suzette, gaily. "I have felt just the same +about girls. I only began to wear my hair in a knot three years ago, +and yet there seems hardly one point of union between me and a girl +with her hair down her back. I have got beyond her, as somebody says. +How sad that one should always be getting beyond things! Father detests +India—talks only of the climate—while to me it was all enchantment. +Perhaps if I were to go back to the East, a few years hence, I should +hate it."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. Going back is always a mistake."</p> + +<p>There was nothing exalted or out of the common in their talk, but at +least there was sympathy in it all, and they were telling each other +their thoughts as freely as if they had been friends of long years. It +was very different from being obliged to talk of Salisbury Cathedral, +and theorize on the history of Stonehenge. And then there was the +glamour of the garden and the moonlight; the mysterious light and shade +of shrubbery walks; the blackness of the cedars that spread a deeper +dark across the lawn. Mrs. Mornington had taken care to choose a night +when the midsummer moon should be at the full, and she had abstained +from cockneyfying the garden with artificial light, from those fairy +lamps or Chinese lanterns which are well enough within the narrow +limits of a suburban garden, but which could only vulgarize grounds +that had something of forestial beauty.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you are almost a stranger to Matcham, Miss Vincent," said +Allan, after the first brief pause in their talk.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is such a pleasure to meet some one who does not know +Geoffrey Wornock."</p> + +<p>"And pray who is Geoffrey Wornock?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, how delightful, how refreshing it is to hear that question! Miss +Vincent, I am your devoted friend from this moment. Your friend, did I +say? I am your slave—command my allegiance in everything."</p> + +<p>"Please be tranquil. What does it all mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, forgive me! Know then that hitherto everybody I have met in this +place has greeted me by an expression of surprise at my resemblance +to one Geoffrey Wornock—happily now absent with his regiment in the +East. Nobody has taken any interest in me except on the score of +this likeness to the absent Wornock. My face has been criticized, my +features descanted upon one by one in my hearing. I have been informed +that it is in this or that feature, in this or that expression, the +likeness consists, while I naturally don't care twopence about the +likeness, or about Wornock. And to meet some one who doesn't know +my double, who will accept me for what I am individually!—oh, Miss +Vincent, we ought to be friends. Say that we may be friends."</p> + +<p>"Please don't rush on in such a headlong fashion. You talk like the +girls at the convent, who wanted me to swear eternal friendship in the +first half-hour; and perhaps turned out to be very disagreeable girls +when one came to know them."</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall not turn out disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to be rude; but friendship is a serious thing. At +present I have no friend except father, and two girls with whom I have +kept up a correspondence since I left the Sacré Cœur. One lives at +Bournemouth and the other in Paris, so our friendship is dependent on +the post. I think we ought to go back to the dancing-room now. I have +to report myself to Mrs. Fordingbridge, and not to keep her later than +she may wish to stay."</p> + +<p>Allan felt that he had been talking like a fool; that he had presumed +on the young lady's unconventional manner. She had talked to him +brightly and unrestrainedly; and he had been pushing and impertinent. +The moonlight, the garden, the pleasure of talking to a bright +vivacious girl had made him forget the respect due to the acquaintance +of an hour.</p> + +<p>He was silent on the way back to the ballroom, silent and abashed; but +five minutes afterwards he was waltzing with Suzette, who was assuredly +the best waltzer of all that evening's partners, and he felt that he +was treading on air.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">"O THE RARE SPRING-TIME!"</p> + + +<p>Allan called at the Grove two days after the dance—called at the +friendly hour when there was a certainty of afternoon tea, if Mrs. +Mornington were at home; and when he thought it likely that Miss +Vincent would be with her aunt.</p> + +<p>"She will almost live at the Grove," he thought, as he walked towards +that comfortable mansion, which was nearly a mile from Beechhurst. +"Marsh House is so near. There is a path across the meadows by which +she can walk in dry weather. A girl living alone with her father will +naturally turn to her aunt for companionship, will take counsel with +her upon all household affairs, and will run in and out every day."</p> + +<p>It was a disappointment, after having made up his mind in this way, to +see no sign of Suzette's presence in the drawing-room at the Grove. +Mrs. Mornington was sitting in the verandah with her inevitable +work-basket, just as he had found her a fortnight before, when her +brother's advent at Marsh House and the dance at the Grove were still +in the future.</p> + +<p>She received him with her accustomed cordiality, but she did not ask +him what he thought of her niece, though he was dying to be questioned. +An unwonted shyness prevented his beginning the subject. He sat meekly +sustaining a conversation about the parish, the wrongs and rights of +the last clerical squabble, till his patience could hold out no longer.</p> + +<p>"I hope General Vincent likes Matcham," he said at last, not daring to +touch nearer to the subject which absorbed his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, <i>he</i> likes the place well enough. He has lived his life, +and can amuse himself with his poultry-yard, and will potter about +with the hounds now and then when the cub-hunting begins. But I don't +know how it will suit <i>her</i>."</p> + +<p>"You think Miss Vincent would prefer a livelier place?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she would prefer it. The question is, will she put up with +this? She has never lived in an English village, though she has lived +in out-of-the-way places in India; but, then, that was camp life, +adventure, the sort of thing a girl likes. Her father idolizes her, +and has taken her about everywhere with him since she left the Sacré +Cœur at fourteen years of age. She has lived at Plymouth, at York, at +Lucknow. She has had enough adulation to turn a wiser head than hers."</p> + +<p>"And yet—so far as a man may venture to judge within the compass of +an hour—I don't think her head has been turned," said Allan, growing +bolder.</p> + +<p>"That's as may be. She has a clever little way of seeming wiser +than she is. The nuns gave her that wise air, I think. They have +a wonderfully refining effect upon their pupils. Do you think her +good-looking?"</p> + +<p>"Good-looking is an odious epithet to apply to such a girl. She is +exquisitely pretty."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you admire her. Yes, it is a dainty kind of prettiness, ain't +it? Exquisite is far too strong a word; but I think she is a little +superior to the common run of English girls."</p> + +<p>"I hope she may be able to endure Matcham. After all, the country round +is tolerably interesting."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I believe she will put up with it for her father's sake, if he is +happy here. Only no doubt she will miss the adulation."</p> + +<p>"She must not be allowed to miss it. All the young men in the +neighbourhood will be her worshippers."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington shrugged her shoulders, pursed up her lips, and made a +long slashing cut in a breadth of substantial calico.</p> + +<p>"The young men of the neighbourhood will hardly fill the gap," she +said. "Yourself excepted, there is not an idea among them—that is +to say, not an idea unconnected with sport. If a girl doesn't care +to talk about hunting, shooting, or golf, there is no such thing as +conversation for her in Matcham."</p> + +<p>Before Allan could reply, the drawing-room door was thrown open, and +Mrs. Mornington rose to receive a visitor. Her seat in the verandah +commanded the drawing-room as well as the garden, and she was always on +the alert for arrivals. Allan rose as quickly, expecting to see Miss +Vincent.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wornock," announced the butler, with a grand air, perfectly +cognizant of the lady's social importance.</p> + +<p>To Allan the appearance of the lady of Discombe was as startling as if +she had lived at the other end of England. And yet Mrs. Mornington had +told him that she and Mrs. Wornock exchanged three or four visits in +the course of the year.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington greeted her guest with cordiality, and the two women +came out to the verandah together. They offered a striking contrast, +and, as types of the sex, were at the opposite poles of woman. One was +of the world, worldly, large, strongly built, loud-voiced, resolute, +commanding, a woman whose surplus power was accentuated by the petty +sphere in which she lived; the other was slender and youthful in +figure, with a marked fragility of frame, pale, ethereal, and with a +girlish shyness of manner, not wanting in mental power, perhaps, but +likely to be thought inferior, from the lack of self-possession and +self-esteem. All the social advantages which surrounded Mrs. Wornock of +Discombe had been insufficient to give her the self-confidence which +is commonly superabundant in the humblest matron who has passed her +thirtieth birthday.</p> + +<p>She gave a little start of surprise at finding Allan in the verandah, +but the smile with which she offered him her hand was one of pleasure. +She took the seat which Mrs. Mornington offered her—the most +comfortable chair in the verandah—and then began to apologize for +having taken it.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid this is your chair——"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no. Sit where you are, for goodness' sake!" cried Mrs. +Mornington. "I never indulge myself with an easy-chair till my day's +work is done. We are going to have our tea out here." The servants +were bringing table and tray as she talked. "I'm very glad you came +to see me this afternoon, for I dare say my niece will be running in +presently—my brother Robert's daughter—and I want you to call upon +her. I told you all about her the other day when I was at the Manor."</p> + +<p>"Would she like me to call, do you think? Of course I will call, if you +wish it; but I hardly think she will care."</p> + +<p>"I know that she will care," replied Mrs. Mornington, busy at the +tea-table. "She is not a great performer, but she is almost as +enthusiastic about music as you are. She is a Roman, and those old +Masses of which you are so fond mean more to her than they do to most +of us."</p> + +<p>Allan's spirits had risen with the expectation of Miss Vincent's +appearance. He had been right in his conclusions, after all.</p> + +<p>He resumed his seat, which was near enough to Mrs. Wornock's chair for +confidential talk.</p> + +<p>"You have quite deserted me, Mr. Carew," she said, with gentle +reproachfulness. "I thought you would have been to see me before now."</p> + +<p>"I did not want to seem intrusive."</p> + +<p>"You could not seem or be intrusive. You are so much more to me than +a common friend. You remind me of the past—of my son. You would be +almost as another son to me if you would let me think of you like that. +If——"</p> + +<p>She spoke quickly, almost passionately, and her low voice had a thrill +of feeling in it which touched him deeply. What a strange impulsive +creature this woman was, in spite of the timidity and reserve that +had kept her aloof from that rural society over which she might have +reigned as a queen.</p> + +<p>Before Allan could reply to Mrs. Wornock's unfinished speech, there +came a welcome diversion in the shape of a large black poodle, +which rushed vehemently across the lawn, stood on end beside Mrs. +Mornington's gown for a moment or two, sniffed the tea-table, wheeled +round, and rushed off again in a diagonal line towards the point whence +he had come.</p> + +<p>This sudden black appearance was followed by an appearance in lavender +cambric, and the tall, slim form of a very elegant young woman, whose +simple attire, as at the ball, bore the true Parisian stamp, that +indescribable air of unlikeness to British dress, which is rather a +negative than a positive quality.</p> + +<p>The brilliant dark eyes flashed a smile upon Allan, as the young lady +allowed him to take her hand <i>à l'Anglaise</i>, after she had spoken +to her aunt and been introduced to Mrs. Wornock.</p> + +<p>"Your poodle is a little too bad, Suzie. He nearly knocked me and the +tea-table clean over."</p> + +<p>"That is one of the aunt's innocent exaggerations," said Suzette, +laughing. "If you know her as well as I do, Mrs. Wornock, you must +know that she always talks in a large way. Poor Caro. He is only a +puppy; and I think, for a puppy, his manners are perfect."</p> + +<p>Caro was crouching at her feet, breathing hard, for the space of half +a minute as she spoke, and then he rushed off again, circling the lawn +three or four times, with spasmodic halts by his mistress, or by the +tea-table.</p> + +<p>"He is rather a ridiculous dog at present," apologized Suzette, fondly +watching these manœuvres; "but he is going to be very clever. He has +begun to die for his queen, and he will do wonderful things when he +is older. I have been warned not to teach him too much while he is a +puppy, for fear of addling his brain."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he has any brain to be addled, or at least he must +have addled it for himself with that absurd rushing about," said Mrs. +Mornington, dealing out the tea-cups, which Allan meekly handed to the +two ladies.</p> + +<p>He had been to so many afternoon tea-parties of late that he felt as if +handing cups and saucers and cream and sugar were a kind of speciality +with him. In Suffolk he had never troubled about these things. His time +had been taken up with shooting or fishing. He had allowed all social +amenities to be performed by his mother, unaided by him. At Matcham +he had become a new being, a person to be called upon and to return +calls, with all the punctiliousness of a popular curate. He wondered at +himself as he accomplished these novel duties.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock began to talk to Suzette, constrainedly at first, but the +girl's frank vivacity soon put her at her ease, and then Allan joined +in the conversation, and in a few minutes they were all three on the +friendliest terms, although the elder lady gradually dropped out of +the conversation, save for a word or two now and then when addressed +by the other two. She seemed content to sit by and listen while those +two talked, as much interested in them as they were interested in +each other. She was quick to perceive Allan's subjugation, quick to +understand that he was surrendering himself without a struggle to the +fascination of a girl who was not quite as other girls, who had nothing +hackneyed or conventional in person or manner.</p> + +<p>After tea, they all went round the lawn, headed by Mrs. Mornington, to +look at her roses and carnations, flowers which were her peculiar pride +and care.</p> + +<p>"If I had such a garden as yours—a day-dream in gardens—I don't +suppose I should take any trouble about a few beds of dwarf-roses and +picotees," she said to Mrs. Wornock; "but these flower-beds are all I +have to console me for the Philistinism of my surroundings."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you have a really fine shrubbery," urged Allan, remembering +that promenade of the other night among the lights and shadows, and +the perfume of dewy conifers. "That belt of deodara and arbutus and +rhododendrons, and this fine expanse of level lawn ought to satisfy any +lady's ambition."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. This garden of mine always reminds me of the Church +catechism. It suggests that state of life to which it has pleased +God to call me—an eminently respectable, upper middle-class garden, +fifty years old at most; while the grounds at Discombe carry one back +three centuries, and one expects to meet fine gentlemen in ruffs and +doublets, with roses on their shoes, and talking like that book whose +name I forget, or abusing the new and detestable custom of smoking +tobacco. You will be in love with Mrs. Wornock's garden, Suzette, and +will give up all idea of improving the Marsh House flower-beds."</p> + +<p>"No, I shan't give up, however much I may admire," protested Suzette, +sturdily. "If I had only a cottage garden, I would toil early and late +to make it beautiful."</p> + +<p>"There is plenty of room at Marsh House," said Mrs. Wornock, "and the +garden is capable of improvement. When will you bring Miss Vincent to +see me and my peacocks, Mrs. Mornington? Pray let it be soon. Your +niece and I have at least one taste in common, and I think we ought +to be good friends. Will you come to luncheon to-morrow, you and Miss +Vincent, and you, Mr. Carew, if you are all disengaged?"</p> + +<p>"For my part, I would throw over any engagement that was capable of +being evaded," said Mrs. Mornington, cheerily. And then in an undertone +to Allan, she added, "It will be a new sensation to eat a meal at the +Manor. This burst of hospitality is almost a miracle."</p> + +<p>Allan accepted the invitation unhesitatingly, and began to think Mrs. +Wornock the most delightful of women, and to be angry with himself for +ever having suspected evil in her past history. Whatever was strange in +her conduct in relation to himself and to his father must be accounted +for in some way that would be consonant with guilelessness and goodness.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>That luncheon at Discombe Manor was the beginning of a new phase +in Allan Carew's existence. All things must begin some day; and +love—serious and earnest love—is one of the things which have +their beginning, and whose beginning is sweeter than all the other +first-fruits of life. It is not to be supposed that Allan was +altogether a stranger to tender emotions, that he had come to five and +twenty years of age without ever having fancied himself in love. He +had had his boyish loves, and they had ended in disappointment. The +blighting wind of satiety had swept across his budding loves before +they had time to flower. All those youthful goddesses of his had shown +him too soon and too plainly that there was very little of Olympian +grandeur about them. As an only son with good prospects, he had been +rudely awakened to the cruel truth that the average young lady has a +sharp eye to the main chance, and that he, Allan Carew, was measured +by his expectations rather than by his merits. Very early in his youth +he made up his mind that he would never let his heart go out to any +woman who contemplated marriage from a business standpoint; and he +had been keenly on the watch for the canker of worldliness among +the flowers. Unluckily for his chances of matrimony, the prettiest +girls he had met hitherto had been the most worldly; trained perhaps +to worldliness on account of their marketable qualities. Much as he +admired high-mindedness in woman, he was not high-minded enough to seek +out virtue under an unattractive exterior; so he had almost made up his +mind to follow his uncle's example, and go through life a bachelor.</p> + +<p>As a bachelor he might count himself rich, and for a bachelor +Beechhurst was an admirable dwelling-place. The house had been built +for a bachelor. The rooms were spacious but few. Twice as many +bedrooms, best and secondary, would be required for a family man. +Thinking vaguely of the possibility of marriage, Allan had shuddered +as he thought of an architect exploring that delightful upper floor, +measuring walls, and tapping partitions, and discussing the best point +at which to throw out a nursery wing, and where to add three or four +servants' bedrooms.</p> + +<p>And behold now this prudent, far-seeing young man, whose philosophy +hitherto had been the philosophy of pure selfishness, was allowing +himself to fall in love with a young lady who, for all he could tell, +might be just as mercenary and worldly-minded as the girls he had met +in Suffolk shooting-parties or in London ball-rooms. He had no reason +to suppose her any better than they. Her father was a man of moderate +means, and according to all the rules of modern life, it would be her +duty to make a good marriage. He remembered how Mrs. Mornington had +ordered her niece to save a dance for him, and he might conclude from +that and other small facts that the aunt would favour him as a suitor +for the niece. Yet the idea of worldly-mindedness never entered his +thoughts in relation to Suzette. He abandoned himself to the charm +of her delightful individuality without the faintest apprehension of +future disillusion. He thought, indeed, but little of the future. +The joys of the present were all-sufficing. To talk with her in +unrestrained frivolity, glancing from theme to theme, but always with a +grain of sentiment or philosophy in their talk; to walk beside her in +those stately alleys at Discombe, or to linger in the marble temple; +to follow the peacocks along the grass walks; to look for the nests +of the thrushes and blackbirds in the thick walls of laurel; to plan +garden-plays—Twelfth Night, Midsummer Night's Dream—in that grassy +amphitheatre, which reminded Allan of the Boboli Gardens—these things +made a happiness that filled mind and heart to the exclusion of all +thought of the future.</p> + +<p>"I can understand the lilies better now than when I was first told to +consider them," said Allan one day, as he stood with Suzette beside a +great bed of lilium auratum.</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am as happy as they are, and take no more heed of the future +than they do. I feel as they feel when they sway in the summer wind and +bask in the summer sun, fed with the dews of night, having all things +that are good for flowers, satisfied and happy."</p> + +<p>"You are as foolish as I am. I can't help fancying sometimes that +flowers are alive and can feel the sun and the glory of the blue sky. +To be always looking up at the sky, dumb, lifeless, not knowing! One +would hardly care for flowers if one could realize that they have +neither sense nor feeling. Yet I suppose one does realize that cruel +fact sometimes. I know when I have been looking at the roses, and +delighting in their beauty, Caro meets me as I go back to the house, +and as he leaps and frisks about me, the difference between him and the +flowers strikes me very keenly. They so beautiful and so far off, he so +near and dear—the precious living thing!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is the crown of things, Miss Vincent—life! Dead loveliness +is nothing in comparison!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Suzette. "And what a blessing that life is beautiful in +itself. One can love ugly people; one may adore an ugly dog; but who +ever cared for an ugly chair, or could become attached to an ugly +house?"</p> + +<p>"Not knowingly; but I have known people fondly attached to the +most hideously furnished rooms. And oh, how humiliating it is for +middle-aged people like my mother to be obliged to admit that the +things we think hideous were accounted beautiful when they were young!"</p> + +<p>This easy, trivial talk was the growth of more than one luncheon, and +a good many tea-drinkings, in the music-room or in the gardens of +Discombe. Mrs. Wornock had opened her heart and her house to Suzette as +she had never before done to any young lady in the neighbourhood, and +Suzette warmly reciprocated the kindness of the recluse. She ran in at +the Manor House almost as unceremoniously as she ran in at the Grove. +It was understood by the servants that their mistress was always at +home to Miss Vincent. And as Allan had previously been made free of the +Manor House, it was only natural that he and Suzette should meet very +often under Mrs. Wornock's mild chaperonage.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington knew of these meetings, and, indeed, often dropped in +while the young people were there, coming to take Suzette home in her +pony-carriage, or to walk with her through the lanes. She showed no +sign of disapproval; yet, as a woman of the world, it may have occurred +to her that, since Mrs. Wornock was so fond of Suzette, it might be +wise for Suzette to refrain from attaching herself to Allan Carew, +while a superior <i>parti</i> remained in the background in the person +of Mrs. Wornock's only son.</p> + +<p>Happily for Allan, Mrs. Mornington, although essentially mundane, was +not a schemer. She had made up her mind that Allan was a good deal +better than the average young man, and that Beechhurst was quite good +enough for her niece, whose present means and expectations were of a +very modest order. There had been no mock humility in Mrs. Mornington's +statement of facts when she told Allan that her brother's income, from +all sources, was just big enough to enable him to live respectably at +Marsh House.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The foliage was beginning to show gleams of gold and red amidst the +sombre green of late summer; the hounds were beginning to meet at seven +o'clock in the crisper, clearer mornings of September; and Allan Carew +was beginning to feel himself the bond-slave of a young lady about +whose sentiments towards himself he was still entirely in the dark.</p> + +<p>Did she care for him much, a little, not at all? Allan Carew was +continually asking himself those questions, and there was no oracle to +answer him; no oracle even in his inner consciousness, which told him +nothing of Suzette's feelings. He knew that he loved her; but he could +recall no word or look of hers which could assure him that she returned +his love. It was certain that she liked him, and that his society was +pleasant to her.</p> + +<p>They had an infinite series of ideas in common—they thought alike upon +most subjects; and she seemed no more to weary of his society than +he of hers—yet there were times when he thought he might have been +nearer winning her love had she liked him less. Her friendship seemed +too frank ever to ripen into love. He would have liked to see her start +and blush at his coming. She did neither; but received him with her +airiest grace, and had always her laughter ready for his poor jokes, +her intellect on the alert for his serious speech about books or men. +She was the most delightful companion he had ever known; but a sister +could not have been more at her ease with him.</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think you take me for one of your old convent friends," he +said one day, when she had prattled to him of her housekeeping and her +garden as they walked up and down the long grass alley, while the music +of the organ came to them, now loud with the lessening distance, now +sinking slowly to silence as they walked further from the house.</p> + +<p>"Oh no; I should never take you for any one so patrician and +distinguished as Laure de Beauvais, or Athenaïs de Laroche," she +answered laughingly, "I should never dare to talk to them about eggs +and butter, the obstinacy of a cook at twenty-five pounds a year, the +ignorance of a gardener who is little better than a day labourer. But +perhaps I am wrong to talk to you of these everyday cares. I will try +to talk as I would to Athenaïs. I will dispute the merit of Lamartine's +Elegy on Byron as compared with Hugo's Ode to the King of Rome. I was +for Hugo; Athenaïs for Lamartine. We used to have terrible battles. And +now Athenaïs is married to a financier, and has a palace in the Parc +Monceau, and gives balls to all Paris; and I am living with father in a +shabby old house with three maids and a man-of-all-work."</p> + +<p>"Talk to me as you like," he said; "talk to me as your serf, your +slave."</p> + +<p>And then, without a moment's pause in which to arrange his thoughts, +surprised into a revelation which he had intended indefinitely to +defer, he told her that he was in very truth her slave, and that he +must be the most miserable of men if this avowal of his love touched +no answering chord in her heart.</p> + +<p>She who was habitually so gay grew suddenly grave almost to sadness, +and looked at him with an expression which was half-frightened, +half-reproachful.</p> + +<p>"Oh, why do you talk like this?" she cried. "We have been such +friends—so happy."</p> + +<p>"Shall we be less friendly or less happy when we are lovers?"</p> + +<p>That word "when" touched her keen sense of the ridiculous.</p> + +<p>"When we are lovers!" she echoed, smiling at him. "You take everything +for granted."</p> + +<p>"I have no alternative between confidence and despair."</p> + +<p>"Really, really, now? Am I really necessary to your happiness?"</p> + +<p>"You are my happiness. I come here, or I go to the Grove, and find you, +and I am happy. When I go away, I leave happiness behind me, except +the reflected light of memory; except the dreams in which your image +floats about me, in which I hear your voice, the sweet voice that is +kinder in my dreams than it ever is in my waking hours."</p> + +<p>"Surely I am never unkind."</p> + +<p>"No; but in my dreams you are more than kind—you are my own and my +love. You are what I hope you will be soon, Suzette—soon! Life's +morning is so short. Let us spend it together."</p> + +<p>They were in the temple at the end of the cypress walk, and in that +semi-sacred solitude his arm had stolen round her waist, his lips were +seeking hers, gently, yet with a force which it needed all her strength +to oppose.</p> + +<p>"No; no; you must not. I can promise nothing yet. I have had no time to +think."</p> + +<p>"No time! Oh, Suzette, you must have known for the last six weeks that +I adore you."</p> + +<p>"I am not vain enough to imagine myself adored. I think I knew that you +liked me—almost from the first——"</p> + +<p>"Liked and admired you from the very first," interrupted Allan.</p> + +<p>"My aunt said things—hinted and laughed, and was altogether absurd; +but one's kinsfolk are so vain."</p> + +<p>"Yes, when they have a goddess born among them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't be too ridiculous. You know that I like you; but, as +for loving, I must have a long, long time to think about <i>that</i>."</p> + +<p>"You shall think as long as you like; so long as you do not withdraw +your friendship. I cannot live without you."</p> + +<p>"Why should I cease to be your friend? Only promise that you will never +again talk, or behave, as foolishly as you have done this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I promise, solemnly promise; until you give me leave to be foolish," +he added, with a touch of tenderness.</p> + +<p>He felt that he had been precipitate; that he might, by this temerity, +have brought upon himself banishment from the Eden in which he was +so happy. He had been over bold in thinking that the time which had +sufficed for the growth of passionate love on his part was enough to +make this charming girl as fond of him as he was of her. He was ashamed +of his presumption. The degrees of their merit were so different; she a +being whom to know was to love; he a very commonplace young man.</p> + +<p>Suzette was quite as easy in her manner with him after that little +outbreak as she had been before. He had promised not to renew the +attack, and in her simple truthfulness she believed all promises sacred +between well-bred people.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington dropped in at teatime, ready to drive her niece home. +It was a common thing now for Suzette to spend the whole day at +Discombe, playing classical duets with Mrs. Wornock, or sitting quietly +by her side reading or musing while she played the organ. The girl's +religious feeling gave significance to that noble music of the old +German and Italian masses which to other hearers were only music. The +acquaintance between the elder woman and the younger had ripened by +this time into a friendship which was not without affection.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wornock is my second aunt, and Discombe is my second home," said +Suzette, explaining the frequency of her visits.</p> + +<p>"And the Grove, does not that count as home?" asked Mrs. Mornington, +with an offended air.</p> + +<p>"It is so much my home that I don't count it at all. It is more like +home than Marsh House, both for father and for me."</p> + +<p>Later, when the pony-carriage was taking aunt and niece along the road +to Matcham, Suzette said suddenly, after a silence—</p> + +<p>"Auntie, would it be a shock to your nerves if I were to tell you +something that happened to-day."</p> + +<p>"My nerves are very strong, Suzie. What kind of thing was it? and did +it concern Mr. Carew <i>par exemple</i>?"</p> + +<p>"How clever you are at guessing! Yes, it was Mr. Carew. He proposed to +me."</p> + +<p>"And of course you accepted him."</p> + +<p>"Of course! Oh, auntie! what do you think I am made of? I have only +known him about two months."</p> + +<p>"What of that? If you had been brought up in the French fashion—and a +very sensible fashion it is, to my thinking—you would have only seen +him two or three times before you marched up to the altar with him. +Surely you did not reject him?"</p> + +<p>"I may not have said positively no; but I told him that it was much +too soon—that I could not possibly love him after such a short +acquaintance, and that, if we were to go on being friends, he must +never speak of such a thing again."</p> + +<p>"Never!"</p> + +<p>"I think the word was never—or, at any rate, for a long, long time. +And he promised."</p> + +<p>"He will keep his promise, no doubt. Well, Suzette, all I can say is +that you must be very difficult to please. I don't believe there is +another girl in Matcham who would have refused Allan Carew."</p> + +<p>"What, are all the young ladies in Matcham so much alike that the same +young man would suit them all? Have they no individuality?"</p> + +<p>"They have individuality enough to know a good young man, with an +excellent position in life, when they see one. I believe your father +will be as disappointed as I am."</p> + +<p>"Disappointed? Because I am not in a hurry to leave him. I don't know +my father, if he is capable of such unkindness."</p> + +<p>"Suzette, that little mind of yours is full to the brim of high-flown +notions," retorted her aunt, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Dear auntie, surely you are not angry?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Suzie, I am angry, because I have a very high opinion of Allan +Carew. I consider him a pearl among young men."</p> + +<p>"Really, aunt! And if he were a poor curate, or a barrister +without—what do you call them—briefs? Yes, briefs! Would he be a +pearl then?"</p> + +<p>"He would be just as good a young man, but not a husband for you. +Don't expect romantic ideas from me, Suzette. If I ever was romantic, +it was so many years ago that I have quite forgotten the sensation."</p> + +<p>"And you cannot conjure back your youth in order to understand me," +said her niece, musingly. "You are not like Mrs. Wornock, whose mind +seems always dwelling upon the past."</p> + +<p>"Has she talked to you of her youth?" Mrs. Mornington asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Not directly; but she has talked vaguely sometimes of feelings +long dead and gone—of the dead whom she loved—her father whom she +lost when she was seventeen, and whose spirit—as she thinks—holds +communion with her in her solitary daydreams at the organ. He was a +musician, like herself, passionately fond of music."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will not take up any of Mrs. Wornock's fads."</p> + +<p>"Not unless you call music a fad."</p> + +<p>"No, no, music is well enough, and I like you to practise and improve +your playing. But I hope you will never allow yourself to believe in +poor Mrs. Wornock's nonsense about spirit-rapping, and communion with +the dead. You must see that the poor woman is <i>toquée</i>."</p> + +<p>"I see that she is dreamy; and I am not carried away by her dreams. +I think her the most interesting woman I ever met. Don't be jealous, +auntie darling, I should never be as fond of her as I am of you."</p> + +<p>"I hope not!"</p> + +<p>"Only I can't help being interested in her. She is <i>simpatica</i>."</p> + +<p>"'Simpatica!' I hate the word. I never heard any one talked of as +simpatica who hadn't a bee in her bonnet. I really don't know if your +father ought to allow you to be so much at the Manor."</p> + +<p>"I am going to take him to see Mrs. Wornock to-morrow afternoon. I know +he will be in love with her."</p> + +<p>"It would be a very good thing if he were to marry her, and make a +sensible woman of her."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Wornock with a second husband! The idea is hateful. She would +cease to interest me, if she were so commonplace as to marry. I prefer +her infinitely with what you call her fads."</p> + +<p>"'Crabbed age and youth cannot live together,'" said Mrs. Mornington, +quoting one of the few poets with whom she had any acquaintance. +"You and I would never think alike, I suppose, young woman. And so +you refused Mr. Carew, and told him never to talk to you of love or +wedlock, and you refused Beechhurst, yonder," pointing with her whip +across the heath to where the white walls of Allan Carew's house smiled +in the afternoon sunlight. "I know what your uncle Mornington will say +when I tell him what a little fool you have been."</p> + +<p>"Auntie, why is it you want me to marry, Mr. Carew?" Suzette asked +pleadingly. "Is it because he is rich? Is it for the sake of +Beechhurst?"</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Minx, it is because I believe him to be a good young man—a +gentleman—and as true as steel."</p> + +<p>Suzette gave a little sigh, and for a minute or so was dumb.</p> + +<p>"Do you know why I have always been glad that my father is an +Englishman?" she asked presently.</p> + +<p>"Why, because he is an Englishman, I suppose. I should think any girl +would be English if she could."</p> + +<p>"No, auntie, I am not so proud of my father's country as all that. I +have been glad of my English father because I knew that English girls +are allowed to make their own choice in marriage."</p> + +<p>"And a very pretty use you are going to make of your privileges, +refusing the best young man in the neighbourhood. If you were my +daughter, I should be half inclined to send for one of those whipping +ladies we read about, and have you brought to your senses that way."</p> + +<p>"No, you wouldn't, auntie. You wouldn't be unkind to daughter or to +niece."</p> + +<p>"Well, you have your father to account to. What will he say, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Only that his Suzie is to do just as she likes. Do you know that I +refused a subaltern up at the Hills, a young man with an enormous +fortune whom ever so many girls were trying to catch—girls and widows +too—he might have had a large choice."</p> + +<p>"And what did my brother say to that?"</p> + +<p>"He only laughed, and told me that I knew my own value."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington was thoughtful for the rest of the way. Perhaps, after +all, it was a good thing for a girl to be difficult to please. A +girl as bright and as pretty as Suzette could afford to give herself +airs. Allan would be sure to propose to her again; and then there was +Geoffrey Wornock, who was expected home before Christmas. Who could +tell if Geoffrey might not be as deeply smitten with this charming +hybrid as Allan? and Discombe was to Beechhurst as sunlight unto +moonlight, in extensiveness and value.</p> + +<p>"And yet I would rather she should marry Carew," mused Mrs. Mornington. +"I should be afraid of young Wornock."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">NOT YET.</p> + + +<p>Allan was dashed by Suzette's refusal to accept him on any other +footing than that of friendship, and he was angry with himself for +having spoken too soon. The only comfort left him was her willingness +to consider him still her friend; but this was cold comfort, and in +some wise more disheartening than if she had been more angry. Yet in +his musings he could but think that she liked him better than a mere +average acquaintance; while now and then there stole across his mind +the flattering hope that she liked him better than she herself knew. He +recalled all those happy hours they had spent together, with only Mrs. +Wornock to make a third, Mrs. Wornock who so often crept away to her +beloved organ and left them free to loiter in the gardens, or to sit +in one of the deeply recessed windows, talking in whispers, while the +music filled the room, or to stray far off in the stately pleasaunce, +where their light laughter could not disturb the player.</p> + +<p>They had talked together often enough and long enough to have explored +each other's minds and imaginations, and they had found that about all +great things they thought alike; while their differences of opinion +about the trifles of life gave them subjects for mirthful argument, +occasions for disagreeing only to end in agreement.</p> + +<p>Suzette complained that Allan's university training made all argument +unfair. How could she—an illogical, prejudiced woman, maintain her +ground against a master of dialectics?</p> + +<p>In all their companionship he could remember no moments of ennui, no +indication upon the young lady's part that she could have been happier +elsewhere than in his company. This was at least encouraging. The dual +solitude seemed to have been as pleasant to her as it was to him. She +had confided in him in the frankest fashion. She had told him story +after story of her convent life; of her friends and chosen companions. +She had talked to him as a girl might talk to a cousin whom she liked +and trusted; and how often does such liking ripen into love; an +attachment truer and more lasting than that hot-headed love at first +sight, born of the pleasure of the eye, and taking shallowest root in +the mind. Allan's musings ended in a determination to cultivate the +friendship which had not been withheld from him, and to trust to time +for the growth of love.</p> + +<p>He was anxious to see Suzette as soon as possible after that premature +avowal which had stirred the calm current of their companionship, +lest she should have time to ponder upon his conduct, and to feel +embarrassed at their next meeting. She had told him that she was going +to the golf-links before breakfast on the following morning; so at +eight o'clock Allan made his appearance on the long stretch of rather +rough common-land which bordered the Salisbury road half a mile from +Beechhurst, and which was distinguished from other waste places by the +little red flags of the golf club.</p> + +<p>She was there, as fresh as the morning, in her blue-serge frock and +sailor hat, attended by a small boy, and with the vicar's youngest +daughter for her companion.</p> + +<p>She blushed as they shook hands—blushed, and then distinctly laughed; +and the laugh, frank as it sounded, was the laugh of a triumphant +coquette, for she was thinking of her aunt's indignation yesterday +afternoon, and thinking how little it mattered her refusing a man who +was so absolutely her slave. Propose to her again, forsooth? Why, of +course he would propose to her again, and again, and again, as that +foolish young subaltern had done at Simla. Were all men as foolish, +Suzette wondered; and had all young women as much liberty of choice?</p> + +<p>She glanced involuntarily at the Vicar's youngest daughter, regarded by +her family as the flower of the flock, but of a very humble degree in +the floral world. A fresh-coloured, pudding-faced girl, with small eyes +and a pug nose, but with a tall, well-developed figure of the order +that is usually described as "fine."</p> + +<p>The golf went on in a desultory way, Allan strolling after the +players, and venturing a remark now and then, as suggested by a single +summer's experience at St. Andrews. When the two girls had been +round the course, and it was time to hasten home to their respective +breakfast-tables, he accompanied them on their way, and after having +left Miss Bessie Edgefield at the Vicarage gate he had Suzette all +to himself for something under a quarter of a mile. They met Mrs. +Mornington a little way from Marsh House, sallying out for her morning +conference with butcher and fishmonger, the business of providing Mr. +Mornington's dinner being too important to be left to the hazards +of cook and shopkeeper. It was necessary that Mrs. Mornington's own +infallible eye should survey saddle or sirloin, and measure the +thickness of turbot or sole.</p> + +<p>She greeted the two young people with jovial heartiness, and rejoiced +beyond measure at seeing them together. After all, perhaps Suzette had +done well in refusing the first offer. The poor young man was evidently +her slave.</p> + +<p>"Or if Geoffrey should fall desperately in love with her," mused Mrs. +Mornington, on her way to the village street, not quite heroic enough +to put the owner of Discombe Manor altogether out of her calculations; +"but, no, I shouldn't care about that. It would be too risky."</p> + +<p>That which Mrs. Mornington would not care about was the mental tendency +that Geoffrey might inherit from his mother, whom the strong-minded, +clear-headed lady regarded as a visionary, if not a harmless lunatic. +No! Geoffrey was clever, interesting, fascinating even; but he was +not to be compared with Allan, whose calm common sense had won Mrs. +Mornington's warmest liking.</p> + +<p>After that morning on the links, and the friendly homeward walk, Allan +felt more hopeful about Suzette; but he was not the less bent upon +bringing to bear every influence which might help him to win her for +his own, before any other suitor should come forward to dispute the +prize with him. Happily for him, there were few eligible young men in +the neighbourhood, and those few thought more of horses and guns than +of girlhood and beauty.</p> + +<p>Lady Emily had promised her son a visit in the autumn. Allan hoped +that his father would accompany her. He wanted to bring Suzette into +the narrow circle of his home life, to bring her nearer to himself by +her liking for his mother and father. With this intent he urged on the +promised visit, delighted at the thought that his mother's presence +would enable him to receive Suzette as a guest in the house where he +hoped she would some day be mistress.</p> + +<p>He wrote to his father, reminding him of his assurance that he would +not always remain a stranger to his son's home, and this letter of +his, which dwelt earnestly upon certain unexplained reasons why he was +especially anxious for his father's early presence at Beechhurst, was +not without effect. The recluse consented to leave his library, which +perhaps was no greater sacrifice on his part than Lady Emily made in +leaving her farm. Indeed, one of the inducements which Allan held out +to his mother was the promise of a pair of white peacocks from Mrs. +Wornock, finer and whiter than the birds at Fendyke.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carew professed himself pleased with his son's surroundings.</p> + +<p>"Your house is like the good man who bequeathed it to you," he said, +after his tour of inspection; "essentially comfortable, solid, and +commonplace. The admiral had a grand solidity of character; but even +your mother will not deny that he was commonplace."</p> + +<p>Lady Emily nodded a cheery assent. She always agreed with her husband +on all points that did not touch the white farm. There her opinions +were paramount; and she would not have submitted to dictation in so +much as the ears of a rabbit.</p> + +<p>"I could hardly forgive my brother for buying such a house if he +hadn't——-"</p> + +<p>"Left it to your son," interrupted her husband.</p> + +<p>"No, George, that is not what I was going to say. I could not forgive +his Philistine taste if he had not brought home all those delicious +things from China, and built the Mandarin's room. That is the redeeming +feature which makes the house worth having."</p> + +<p>"Every one admits that it is a fine room," said Allan. "There is no +such room in the neighbourhood, except at Discombe."</p> + +<p>"Your father must see Discombe, Allan. We must introduce him to Mrs. +Wornock."</p> + +<p>"I think not, mother. He would be insufferably bored by a woman who +believes in spirit-rapping, sees visions, and plays the organ for hours +at a stretch."</p> + +<p>His father looked at him intently.</p> + +<p>"Who is this person?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"A rich widow, whose son is lord of the manor of Discombe, one of the +most important places between here and Salisbury."</p> + +<p>"And she believes in spiritualism. Curious in a lady living in the +country. I thought that kind of thing had died out with Home, and the +famous article in the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>."</p> + +<p>"We have had later prophets. Eglinton, for instance, with his +materializations and his slate-writing. I don't think the +spiritualistic idea is dead yet, in spite of the ridicule which the +outside herd has cast upon it."</p> + +<p>"I hope the widow lady is not beguiling you into sharing her delusions, +Allan."</p> + +<p>The son had seen a look in the father's face which spoke to him +as plainly as any spoken words. That look had told him that his +description of Mrs. Wornock conjured up some thrilling image in his +father's mind. He saw that startled wondering look come and go, slowly +fading out of the pensive face, as the mind dismissed the thought which +Allan's words had awakened. Surely it was not a guilty look which +had troubled his father's mild countenance—rather a look of awakened +interest, of eager questioning.</p> + +<p>"I should hate to see Allan taking up any nonsense of that kind," said +Lady Emily, with her practical air; "but really, if this Mrs. Wornock +were not twenty years older than he, I should suspect him of being in +love with her. She is a pretty, delicate-looking woman, with a shy, +girlish manner, and looks ridiculously young to be the mother of a +grown-up son."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she has a grown-up son, has she?" asked Mr. Carew. "She belongs to +this part of the country, I suppose, and is a woman of good family?"</p> + +<p>He looked at his son; but, for some reason of his own, Allan parried +the question.</p> + +<p>"I know hardly anything about her, except that she is a very fine +musician, and that she has been particularly kind to me," he said.</p> + +<p>"There, George," cried Lady Emily. "Didn't I tell you so? The foolish +boy is half in love with her!"</p> + +<p>"You will not say that after to-morrow, mother."</p> + +<p>"Shall I not? But why?"</p> + +<p>"You will lose all interest in to-morrow, if I tell you. Go on +wondering, mother dear, till to-morrow, and to-morrow I will tell you +a secret; but, remember, it is not to be talked about to any one in +Matcham."</p> + +<p>"Should I talk of a secret, Allan?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I have an idea that secrets are the staple of tea-table +talk in a village."</p> + +<p>"Poor village! for how much it has to bear the blame; and yet people +are worse gossips in Mayfair and Belgravia."</p> + +<p>"Only because they have more to talk about."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Allan had arranged a luncheon-party for the following day. His courage +had failed at the idea of a dinner: the lengthy ceremonial, the fear of +failure if he demanded too much of his cook, the long blank space after +dinner, with its possibility of ennui. Luncheon was a friendlier meal, +and would less heavily tax the resources of a bachelor's establishment; +and then there was the chance of being able to wander about the garden +with Suzette in the afternoon, the hope of keeping her and her father +till teatime, when the other people had gone home; though people do not +disperse so speedily after a country luncheon as in town, and it might +be that everybody would stop to tea. No matter, if he could steal away +with Suzette to look at the single dahlias, in the west garden, fenced +off from the lawn by a high laurel hedge, leaving Lady Emily and Mrs. +Mornington to entertain his guests.</p> + +<p>He had asked Mr. and Mrs. Mornington, General Vincent and his +daughter, Mr. Edgefield, the Vicar, and his daughter Bessie (Suzette's +antagonist at golf), Mr. and Mrs. Roebuck, a youngish couple, who +prided themselves on being essentially of the great world, towny, +cosmopolitan, anything but rustic, and who insisted on talking +exclusively of London and the Riviera to people who rarely left their +native gardens and paddocks. Mr. Roebuck had been officiously civil to +Allan, and he had felt constrained to invite him. The invitation was on +Mrs. Mornington's principle of payment for value received.</p> + +<p>Allan had invited Mrs. Wornock; he had even pressed her to be of the +party, but she had refused.</p> + +<p>"I don't care for society," she said. "I am out of my element among +smart people."</p> + +<p>"There will be very little smartness—only the Roebucks, and one may +say of them as Beatrice said of Benedick, 'It is a wonder <i>they</i> +will still be talking, for nobody minds <i>them</i>.' Seriously now, +Mrs. Wornock, I should like you to meet my father."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, but you must excuse me. Don't think me rude or +ungrateful."</p> + +<p>"Ungrateful! Why, it is I who ask a favour."</p> + +<p>"But I am grateful for your kindness in wishing to have me at your +house. I will go there some day with Suzette, when you are quite +alone, and you shall show me the Mandarin-room."</p> + +<p>"That is too good of you. Mind, I shall exact the performance of that +promise. You are very fond of Suzette, I think, Mrs. Wornock?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am very fond of her. She is the only girl with whom I have ever +felt in sympathy; just as you are the only young man, except my son, +for whom I have ever cared."</p> + +<p>"You link us together in your thoughts."</p> + +<p>"I do, Allan," she answered gravely, "and I hoped to see you linked +by-and-by in a lifelong union."</p> + +<p>"That is my own fondest hope," he said. "How did you discover my +secret?"</p> + +<p>"Your secret! My dear Allan, I have known that you were in love with +Suzette almost from the first time I saw you together—yes, even that +afternoon at the Grove."</p> + +<p>"You were very sympathetic, very quick to read my thoughts. I own that +I admired her immensely even at that early stage of our acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"And admiration soon grew into love. It has been such happiness for me +to watch the growth of that love—to see you two young creatures so +trustful and so happy together, walking about that old garden yonder, +which has seen so little of youth or of happiness. I felt almost as +a mother might have felt watching the happiness of her son. Indeed, +Allan, you have become to me almost as a second son."</p> + +<p>"And you are becoming to me almost as a second mother," he said, +bending down to kiss the slim white hand which lay languidly upon her +open book.</p> + +<p>Never till to-day had she called him Allan, never before had she spoken +to him so freely of her regard for him.</p> + +<p>"Allan," she repeated softly. "You don't mind my calling you by your +Christian name?"</p> + +<p>"Mind! I am flattered that you should so honour me."</p> + +<p>"Allan," she repeated again, musingly, "why were you not called George, +after your father?"</p> + +<p>"Because Allan is an old family name on my mother's side of the house. +Her father and grandfather and elder brother were Allans."</p> + +<p>He left her almost immediately, taking leave of her briefly, with a +sudden revulsion of feeling. That question of hers, and the mention of +his father's name, chilled and angered him, in the very moment when his +heart had been moved by her sympathy and affection.</p> + +<p>There was something in the familiar mention of his father's name that +re-awakened those suspicions which he had never altogether banished +from his mind. It was perhaps on this account that he had spoken +slightingly of Mrs. Wornock when Lady Emily suggested that he should +make her known to his father. That question about the name had seemed +to him a fresh link in the chain of circumstantial evidence.</p> + +<p>Suzette and her father were the first arrivals at Allan's +luncheon-party. The General was a martinet in the matter of +punctuality; and having taken what he called his <i>chota haz'ri</i> +at half-past six that morning, was by no means inclined to feel +indulgently disposed towards dilatory arrivals, who should keep him +waiting for his tiffin; nor could he be made to understand that a +quarter to two always meant two o'clock. The Morningtons appeared at +five minutes before two, the Vicar and his daughter as the clock struck +the hour; and then there followed a quarter of an hour of obvious +waiting, during which Allan showed Suzette the Chinese enamels and +ivories, and the arsenal of deadly swords and daggers displayed against +the wall of the Mandarin-room, while the Morningtons were discussing +with Lady Emily and her husband the merits of Wiltshire as compared +with Suffolk.</p> + +<p>This delay, at which General Vincent was righteously angry, was +occasioned by the Roebucks, who sauntered in with a leisurely air at +a quarter-past two; the wife on the best possible terms with herself +and her new tailor gown; the husband puffed up at having read his +<i>Times</i> before any one else, and loquacious upon the merits of +the "crushing reply" made last night by Lord Hatfield at Windermere to +"the abominable farrago of lies" in Mr. Henry Wilkes' oration the night +before last at Kendal.</p> + +<p>"I dare say it was a very good speech," said the General, grimly; "but +you might have kept it for after luncheon. It would have been less +injured by waiting than Mr. Carew's joint; if he's going to give us +one."</p> + +<p>"Are we late?" exclaimed Mrs. Roebuck, who had endured a quarter of an +hour's agony in front of her cheval glass before the new tailor bodice +could be made to "come to." "Are we really late? How very naughty of +us! Please, please don't be angry, good people. We beg everybody's +pardon," clasping two tightly gloved hands with a prettily beseeching +gesture.</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it," said the General. "We all like waiting; but if +Carew has got a mug cook, I wouldn't give much for the state of her +temper at this moment."</p> + +<p>"We'll send a pretty message to the cook after luncheon, if she has +been clever enough not to spoil her dishes."</p> + +<p>The ladies—Lady Emily and Mrs. Mornington descanting on gardens +and glass all the way—went in a bevy to the dining-room, the men +following, Mr. Roebuck still quoting Lord Hatfield, and the way in +which he had demolished the Radical orator.</p> + +<p>"The worst of it is he don't make 'em laugh," said Mr. Mornington. +"Nobody can make 'em laugh as Wilkes does. Town or country, hodge or +mechanic, he knows the length of their foot to a fraction, and knows +what will hit them and what will tickle them."</p> + +<p>The cook was sufficiently "mug" to have been equal to the difficulties +of twenty minutes' delay, and the luncheon was admirable—not too many +courses, nor too many dishes, but everything perfect after its kind. +Nor was the joint—that item dear to elderly gentlemen—forgotten, +for after a first course of fish and a second of curry and <i>crême de +volaille</i>, there appeared a saddle of Wiltshire mutton, to which the +elderly gentlemen did ample justice, while the ladies, who had lunched +upon the more sophisticated dishes, supplied the greater part of the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"My father will quote your cook for the next six months," said Suzette, +by whose side Allan had contrived to place himself during the casual +dropping into seats at the large round table, "for yours is the only +house where he has seen Bombay ducks served with the curry."</p> + +<p>"Did you not tell me once that your father has a weakness for those +absurd little fish?"</p> + +<p>"Did I really? Was I capable of talking such absolute twaddle?"</p> + +<p>"It was not twaddle. It was very serious. It was on a day when I found +you looking worried and absent, unable to appreciate either Mrs. +Wornock's music or my conversation; and, on being closely questioned, +you confessed that the canker at your heart was dinner. The General +had been dissatisfied; the cook was stupid. You had done your +uttermost. You had devoted hours to the reading of cookery-books, which +seemed all of them hopelessly alike. You had studied all his fancies. +You had given him Bombay ducks with his curry——"</p> + +<p>"Did I say all that? How silly of me. And how ridiculous of you to +remember."</p> + +<p>"Memory is not a paid servant, but a most capricious Ariel. One cannot +say to one's self, I will remember this or that. My memory is as +fugitive as most people's; but there is one thing for which it can be +relied on. I remember everything about you—all you say to me, all you +do—even to the gowns you wear."</p> + +<p>Suzette laughed a little and blushed a little; but did not look +offended.</p> + +<p>"You had about five minutes' talk with my mother before I took you to +see the enamels. How do you like her?"</p> + +<p>"Immensely! Lady Emily is charming. She was telling me about her white +farm."</p> + +<p>"It would have been odd if you had escaped hearing of that, even in the +first five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I was deeply interested. Lady Emily has promised me some white +bramahs. I am going to start a white poultry-yard. I cannot aspire +higher than poultry; but I am determined that every bird shall be +white."</p> + +<p>"Pretty foolishness! And so you like my mother?"</p> + +<p>"Very, very much. She is one of those people with whom one feels at +one's ease from the first moment. She looks as if she could not say or +even think anything unkind."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe she could do either. And yet she is +human—feminine-human—and can enjoy an interesting scandal—local, +if possible. She enjoys it passively. She does nothing to swell the +snowball, and will hardly help to roll it along. She remains perfectly +passive, and never goes further than to say that she is shocked and +disappointed. And yet I believe she enjoys it."</p> + +<p>"It is only the excitement that one enjoys. We had scandals even +in the convent—girls who behaved badly, dishonourably, about their +studies; cheating in order to get a better chance of a prize. I'm +afraid we were all too deeply interested in the crime and the +punishment. It was something to think about and talk about when life +was particularly monotonous."</p> + +<p>Lady Emily was watching them from the other side of the table, and +lending rather an indifferent ear to Mr. Roebuck's account of Homburg +and the people he and his wife had met there. They had only just +returned from that exhilarating scene. He could talk of nothing but +H.R.H.'s condescension; the dear duchess; Lady this, Lord the other; +and the prodigious demand there had been for himself and his wife in +the very smartest society.</p> + +<p>"Four picnics a day are hardly conducive to the cure of suppressed +gout," said Mr. Roebuck; "and there were ever so many days when we +had to cut ourselves up into little bits—lunching with one party, +taking coffee with another, driving home with somebody else, going to +tea-fights all over the place. Dinner engagements I positively set my +face against. Mimosa and I were there for rest and recuperation after +the season—positively washed out, both of us. You have no idea what a +rag my wife looked when we took our seats in the club train."</p> + +<p>Happily for Lady Emily, who had been suffering this kind of thing for +half an hour, the coffee had gone round, and at her first imploring +glance Mrs. Mornington rose and the ladies left the dining-room. Yet +even this relief was but temporary; for Mrs. Roebuck appropriated Lady +Emily in the garden, and entertained her with her own view of Homburg, +which was smarter, inasmuch as it was more exclusive than Mr. Roebuck's.</p> + +<p>"A horrid place," said the lady. "One meets all one's London friends +mixed up with a herd of foreign royalties whom one is expected to +cultivate. I used to send Richard to all the gaieties, while I stopped +at home and let my maid-companion read to me. We shall go to Marienbad +next August. If one could be at Homburg without people knowing one was +there, the place might be tolerable."</p> + +<p>"I have been told the scenery is very fine," hazarded Lady Emily.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the scenery is well enough; but one knows it, and one has seen +so much finer things in that way. When one has been across the +Cordilleras, it is absurd to be asked to worship some poor little hills +in Germany."</p> + +<p>"I have seldom been out of Suffolk, except to visit some of my people +in Scotland. Ben Lomond and Ben Nevis are quite big enough for me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the Scotch hills are dear things, with quite a character of their +own; and a Scotch deer forest is the finest thing of its kind all over +the world. The duke's is sixty thousand acres—and Dick and I always +enjoy ourselves at Ultimathule Castle—but after being lost in a +snowstorm in the Cordilleras——"</p> + +<p>Lady Emily stifled a despairing yawn. Not a word had she been able to +say about her Woodbastwick cows, which she was inwardly comparing +with Allan's black muzzled Jerseys, grazing on the other side of the +sunk fence. Heartfelt was her gratitude to Mrs. Mornington when that +lady suddenly wheeled round from a confidential talk with the Vicar +and interrupted Mrs. Roebuck's journey across the Cordilleras by an +inquiry about the Suffolk branches of the Guild for supplying warm and +comfortable raiment to the deserving poor.</p> + +<p>"I hope you have a branch in your neighbourhood," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed we have. I am a slave to the Guild all the winter. One +can't make flannel petticoats and things in summer, you know."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> can," retorted Mrs. Mornington, decisively.</p> + +<p>"What, on a broiling day in August! when the very sight of flannel puts +one in a fever?"</p> + +<p>"I am not so impressionable. The things are wanted in October, and July +and August are quite late enough for getting them ready."</p> + +<p>"I subscribe to these institutions," Mrs. Roebuck remarked languidly. +"I never work for them. Life isn't long enough."</p> + +<p>"Then you never have the right kind of feeling about your poorer +fellow-creatures," said Mrs. Mornington. "It is the doing something for +them, using one's own hand and eye and thought for the poor toiling +creatures, sacrificing some little leisure and some little fad to +making them more comfortable—it is that kind of thing which brings the +idea of that harder world home to one."</p> + +<p>"Ah, how nice it is of you dear ladies to sacrifice yourselves like +that; but you couldn't do it after a June and July in London. If you +had seen what a poor creature I looked when we took our seats in the +club train for Homburg——"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington tucked her arm under Lady Emily's and walked her away.</p> + +<p>"I want you to tell me all about your farm," she said. And then, in +a rather loud aside, "I can't stand that woman, and I wish your son +hadn't been so conscientious in asking her."</p> + +<p>While emptiness and ennui prevailed on the terrace in front of the +Mandarin-room, there were a pair of wanderers in the shrubbery, whose +talk was unleavened by worldliness or pretence of any kind. Allan had +stolen away from the smokers in the dining-room, and was escorting +Suzette and her friend Bessie Edgefield round his modest domain—the +shrubberies, the paddocks nearest the house, which had been planted and +educated into a kind of park; the greenhouse and hothouse, which were +just capacious enough to supply plenty of flowers for drawing-room and +dinner-table, but not to grow grapes or peaches. Everything was on a +modest, unassuming scale. Allan felt that after the mansion and gardens +at Discombe, his house suggested the abode of a retired shopkeeper. A +successful hosier or bootmaker might create for himself such a home. +Wholesale trade, soap, or lucifer matches, or cocoa would require +something far more splendid.</p> + +<p>Modest as the place was, the two girls admired, or seemed to admire, +all its details—the conifers of thirty years' growth, the smiling +meadows, the fawn-coloured cows. A sunny September afternoon showed +those fertile pastures and trim gardens at their best. Allan felt +exquisitely happy walking about those smooth lawns and gravel paths +with the girl he loved. At every word of approval he fancied she was +praising the place in which she would be content to live. After that +avowal of his the other day, it seemed to him that her kindness meant +much more than it had meant before she knew her power. She could not +be so cruel as to mock him with the promise of her smiles, her sweet +words, her undisguised pleasure in his company. Yes, he was perfectly +happy. He thought of her refusal the other day as only the prelude to +her acceptance. She had not said "No;" she had only said "Not yet."</p> + +<p>Bessie Edgefield was one of those sweetly constituted girls whom Nature +has especially created to be a third party in a love affair; never to +play the heroine in white satin, but always the confidante in white +muslin. She walked beside her friend, placid, silent, save for an +occasional monosyllable, and was of no more account than Suzette's +shadow.</p> + +<p>"The Roebucks are taking leave," exclaimed Suzette, looking across the +lawn to the groups on the terrace. "Mr. Carew, I'm afraid you are a +sadly inattentive host."</p> + +<p>"Have I neglected you, Miss Vincent?"</p> + +<p>"You have neglected Mrs. Roebuck, which is much worse. She will be +talking of your want of <i>savoir vivre</i> all over Matcham."</p> + +<p>"Let her talk. She has been boring my mother with a cruelty worthy of +Torquemada. She forgets that torture was illegal in England even in +Bacon's time. See, they are all going away; but you and the General and +Miss Edgefield must stay to tea, even if the Vicar is too busy to stop."</p> + +<p>The Vicar had quietly vanished, to resume the round of parish duties, +quite content to leave his Bessie in comfortable quarters. The Roebucks +were going, and the Morningtons were following their example; but +General Vincent had no objection to stop to tea if his daughter and +Miss Edgefield desired him to do so.</p> + +<p>He was smoking a cheroot, comfortably seated in a sheltered part of +the terrace—a corner facing south, screened from east and north by an +angle of the house, where the Mandarin-room projected from the main +building—and he was absorbed in a discussion of Indian legendary lore +with Mr. Carew, who owned to some knowledge of sanscrit, and had made +Eastern fable and legend an especial study.</p> + +<p>Suzette and her father stayed till nearly seven o'clock, when Allan +insisted on walking home with them, having suddenly discovered that he +had had no walking that day. He had been cub-hunting from seven in the +morning till nine; but he declared himself in need of walking exercise. +Lady Emily went with them to the gate, and parted with Suzette as with +a favourite of long standing. Allan was enraptured to see his mother's +friendliness with the girl he loved; and it was all he could do to +restrain his feelings during the walk to Marsh House.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was only that gay temper of hers, that readiness to laugh +at him and at all things in creation, which held him at a distance. +He had made up his mind that she was to be his—that if she were to +refuse him twenty times in twenty capricious moods of her light and +airy temperament, there was somewhere in her nature a vein of serious +feeling, and by that he would win her and hold her.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>"You like Miss Vincent, mother?" he asked that evening, when he was +sitting with his father and mother in the Mandarin-room after dinner.</p> + +<p>The evening was warm to sultriness, and there were several casements +open in the long window which filled one end of the room; a window with +richly carved sashes and panels of cedar and lattice-work alternating +with the glass. There was another window in the western wall, less +elaborate—a door-window—which formed the usual exit to the garden. +This was closed, but not curtained.</p> + +<p>The room was lighted only with shaded lamps, which lighted the tables +and the spaces round them, but left the corners in shadow.</p> + +<p>Lady Emily was sitting at one of the tables, her fingers occupied with +a large piece of work, which she carried about with her wherever she +went, and which, to the eye of the uninitiated, never appeared to make +any progress towards completion. It was destined eventually to cover +the grand piano at Fendyke, and it was to be something very rare and +precious in the way of embroidery; the basis a collection of Breton +shawl-pattern handkerchiefs, overlaid by Lady Emily with embroidery in +many-coloured silks and Japanese gold thread. This piece of work was +a devouring monster in the matter of silk, and Lady Emily was always +telling her friends the number of skeins which were required for its +maintenance, and the cost of the gold thread which made so faint an +effect in the Oriental labyrinth of palms and sprigs and arabesques +and medallions.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I shall never live to finish it," Lady Emily would conclude +with a sigh, throwing herself back in her chair after an hour's +steadfast labour, her eyes fixed in a kind of ecstasy upon the little +corner of palm which she had encrusted with satin stitch and gold; "but +if I <i>do</i>, I really think it will repay me for all my trouble."</p> + +<p>To-night her mind was divided between her embroidery and her son, who +sat on a three-cornered chair beside her, meekly threading her needles +while he tried to get her to talk about Suzette.</p> + +<p>His father was seated almost out of earshot, at a table near the open +window, reading the <i>Nineteenth Century</i> by the light of a lamp +which shone full upon his lowered eyelids, and on the thoughtful brow +and sensitive mouth, as he sat in a reposeful attitude in the low, deep +chair.</p> + +<p>"Do I like Miss Vincent?" repeated Lady Emily, when she had turned a +critical corner in the leafy edging of a scroll. "I wonder how often +you will make me tell you that I think her a very—no, Allan, the +light peacock, please—not that dark shade—very sweet girl—bright, +unaffected——"</p> + +<p>"And exquisitely lovely," interjected her son, as he handed her the +needleful of silk.</p> + +<p>"Ah, there you exaggerate awfully. She is certainly a pretty girl; +but her nose is—well, I hardly know how to describe it; but there +is a fault somewhere in the nose, and her mouth might be smaller; +but, on the other hand, she has fine eyes. Her manners are really +charming—that pretty little Parisian air which is so fascinating in a +high-bred Parisian. But, oh, Allan! can you really mean to marry her?"</p> + +<p>"I really mean to try my hardest to achieve that happiness, and I +shall think myself the luckiest man in Wiltshire, or in England, or in +Europe, if I succeed."</p> + +<p>"But, Allan, have you reflected seriously? She tells me that she is a +Roman Catholic."</p> + +<p>"If she were a Fire-worshipper, I would run the risk of failure in +converting her to Christianity. If she were a Buddhist, I should be +inclined to embrace the faith of Gautama; but since she is only a +conformer to a more ancient form of religion of which you and I are +followers, I don't see why her creed should be a stumbling-block to my +bliss."</p> + +<p>Lady Emily shook her head sagely, and breathed a profound sigh.</p> + +<p>"Differences of religion are so apt to make unhappiness in married +life."</p> + +<p>"I am not religious enough to distress myself because my wife believes +in some things that are incredible to me. We shall both follow the same +Master, both hope for reunion in the same heaven."</p> + +<p>"Allan, <i>she</i> believes in Purgatory. Think how inconsistent your +ideas of the future must be."</p> + +<p>Allan did not pursue the argument. He was smiling to himself at the +easy way in which he had been talking of his wife—their future, +their very hopes of heaven—making so sure that she was to be his. +He looked at his father, sitting alone with them, but not of them, +and thought of his father's married life as he had seen it ever since +he was old enough to observe or understand the life around him; so +peaceful, so in all things what married life should be; and yet over +all there had been that faint shadow of melancholy which the son had +felt from his earliest years, that absence of the warmth and the +romance of a marriage where love is the bond of union. Here, Allan told +himself, the bond had been friendly regard, convenience, the world's +approval, family interests, and lastly the child as connecting link +and meeting-place of hopes and fears. Love had been missing from the +life of yonder pale student, musing over half a dozen pages of modern +metaphysics.</p> + +<p>Allan rose and moved slowly towards that tranquil figure, and feeling +the night air blowing cold as he approached that end of the room, he +asked his father if he would like the windows shut?</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Allan, not on my account," Mr. Carew answered, without +looking up from his book.</p> + +<p>Had he looked up, he would have seen Allan standing between the +lamplight and the window like a man transfixed.</p> + +<p>A pale wan face had that moment vanished in the outward darkness; a +face which a moment before had been looking in at one of the open +lattices, a face which Allan had recognized at the first glance.</p> + +<p>He went to the glass door, opened it quietly, and went out to the +terrace, so quickly and so silently that his disappearance attracted no +attention from father or mother, one absorbed in his book, the other +bending over her work.</p> + +<p>The face was the face of Mrs. Wornock; and Mrs. Wornock must be +somewhere between the terrace and the gates. There was no moon, but +the night was clear, and the sky was full of stars. Allan went swiftly +round the angle of the house to the terrace outside the large window; +but the figure that he had seen from within was no longer stationed +outside the window. The terrace was empty. He went round to the front +of the house, whence the carriage drive wound with a gentle curve to +the gates, between shrubberies of laurel and arbutus, cypress and +deodara.</p> + +<p>Yes, the figure he had expected to see vanished round the curve of the +drive as he drew near the porch, a slender figure in dark raiment, +with something white about the head and shoulders. He ran along the +drive, and reached the gate just in time to see Mrs. Wornock's brougham +standing in the road, at a distance of about fifty yards, and to see +Mrs. Wornock open the door and step in. Another moment—affording him +no time for pursuit, had he even wished to pursue her—and the carriage +drove away.</p> + +<p>Allan had no doubt as to the motive of this conduct. She had come by +stealth to look upon the face of the man whom she had refused to meet +in the beaten way of friendship.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">"SO GREW MY OWN SMALL LIFE COMPLETE."</p> + + +<p>After the incident of that September night, there was no longer the +shadow of doubt in Allan's mind as to the relations between his father +and the lady at Discombe Manor. That they had known each other and +loved each other in their youth he was now fully convinced. This last +strange act of Mrs. Wornock's was to his mind the strongest link in +the chain of evidence. Whatever the relations between them had been, +guilty or innocent—and fondly as he loved his father, he feared there +had been guilt in that association—it was his duty to prevent any +meeting between them, lest the mere sight of that pale, spiritual face +with its singular youthfulness of aspect, should re-awaken in his +father's breast some faint ghost of the passion that had lived and died +a quarter of a century ago. Nor did his respect for his honest-minded, +trustful-hearted mother permit him to tolerate the idea of friendly +intercourse between her and this mysterious rival from the shadowland +of vanished years. He took care, therefore, to discourage any idea of +visiting the Manor; and he carefully avoided any further talk of Mrs. +Wornock, lest his father's closer questioning should bring about the +disclosure of her identity. His father's manner, when the lady was +first discussed, had shown him very clearly that the description of her +gifts and fancies coincided with the memory of some one known in the +past; but it had been also clear that neither the name of Wornock, nor +the lady's position at Discombe, had any association for Mr. Carew. +If he had known and loved her in the past, he had known and loved her +before she married old Geoffrey Wornock.</p> + +<p>His anxiety upon his father's account was speedily set at rest, for +Mr. Carew—after exploring his son's small and strictly popular +library, where among rows of handsomely bound standard works, there +were practically no books which appealed to the scholar's taste—soon +wearied of unstudious ease, and announced a stern necessity for going +to London, where a certain defunct Hebrew scholar's library, lay and +ecclesiastical, was to be sold at Hodgson's. He would put up for a +few days at the old-fashioned hotel which he had used since he was +an undergraduate, potter about among the book-shops, look up some +references he wanted in the Museum Reading-room, and meet his wife at +Liverpool Street on her way home.</p> + +<p>Lady Emily, absorbed in her son and her son's love affair, agreed most +amiably to this arrangement.</p> + +<p>"Telegraph your day and hour for returning, when you have bought all +the books you want," she said. "I'm afraid you spend more money on +those dreadful old books, which nobody in Suffolk cares a straw about, +than I do on my farm, which people come to see from far and wide."</p> + +<p>"And a great nuisance your admirers are, Emily. I am very glad the +Suffolk people are no book-lovers; and I hope you will never hint to +anybody that my books are worth seeing."</p> + +<p>"I could not say anything so untrue. Your shelves are full of horrors. +Now Allan's library here is really delightful—<i>Blackwood's +Magazine</i>, from the beginning, <i>Macaulay</i>, <i>Scott</i>, +<i>Dickens</i>, <i>Thackeray</i>, <i>Bulwer</i>, <i>Lever</i>, +<i>Marryat</i>—and all of them so handsomely bound! I think my brother +showed excellent taste in literature, though I doubt if he ever read +much. But as you seem happier in your library than anywhere else, I +suppose one must forgive you for spending a fortune on books that don't +interest anybody else. And one can't help being a little bit proud of +your scholarship."</p> + +<p>And so they kissed and parted, with the unimpassioned kiss of marriage +which has never meant more than affectionate friendship. Lady Emily +stood at the hall door while her husband drove off to the station, and +then turned gaily to her son, and said—</p> + +<p>"Now, Allan, I am yours to command. Let me see as much as possible of +that sweet young thing you are in love with. Shall we go and call on +her this afternoon? She has a white cat which may some day provide her +with kittens to distribute among her friends, and, if so, I am to have +one to bring up by hand as I did Snowdrop. You remember Snowdrop?"</p> + +<p>Allan kissed his mother before he answered, but not for Snowdrop's sake.</p> + +<p>"I have a vague recollection of something white and fluffy hanging to +the skirt of your gown, that I used to tread upon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you were horrid. You very nearly killed him. Shall we go?"</p> + +<p>"Please, please, please, mother dearest. I am ready this instant. Three +o'clock. We shall get there at half-past, and if we loiter looking at +white kittens, or the mother of potential kittens, till half-past four, +she will give us tea, and we can make an afternoon of it."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't I better put on a bonnet, Allan?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. You will go in your hat, just as you are. You will treat her +without the slightest ceremony—treat her as your daughter. Do you +know, mother, I am uncommonly glad you never honoured me with a sister."</p> + +<p>"Why, Allan?"</p> + +<p>"Because, if I marry Suzette, she will be your only daughter. There +will be no one to be jealous of her, in Suffolk or here."</p> + +<p>"What a foolish fancy! Well, give me a daughter as soon as you like. I +am getting old, Allan, and your father's secluded habits leave me very +often alone. His books are more his companions than I am——"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but you know how he loves you, mother," interrupted Allan.</p> + +<p>They were on their way to the gate by this time, Lady Emily in her +travelling-hat and loose tan gloves, just as she had been going about +the gardens and meadows in the morning, Allan twirling his stick in +very gladness of heart.</p> + +<p>They were going to her. If she were out, they would go and find her; +at her aunt's, at the Vicarage, on the links yonder; anywhere but at +Discombe. He hoped she had not gone to Discombe.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is fond of me, I believe, in his own way. There never was a +better husband," Lady Emily answered thoughtfully. "But I know, Allan! +I know!"</p> + +<p>"What, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I know that I was not his first love—that I was only a <i>pis +aller</i>—that there is something wanting in his life, and always must +be till the end. I should brood over it all, perhaps, Allan, and end by +making myself unhappy, if it were not for my farm; but all those living +creatures occupy my mind. One living fox-terrier is worth a whole +picture-gallery."</p> + +<p>Suzette was at home. The after-math had been cut in the meadow in front +of Marsh House, a somewhat swampy piece of ground at some seasons, +but tolerably dry just now, after a hot summer. Suzette and Bessie +Edgefield were tossing the scented grass in the afternoon sunshine, +and fancying themselves useful haymakers. They threw down their +hay-forks at the approach of visitors, and there was no more work +done that day, though Allan offered to take a fork. They all sat in +the garden talking, or wandered about among the flowers in a casual +way, and while Bessie and Lady Emily were looking at the contents of +the only greenhouse, Allan found himself alone with Suzette in a long +gravel walk on the other side of the lawn-like meadow, along all the +length of which there was a broad border filled with old-fashioned +perennials that had been growing and spreading and multiplying +themselves for half a century. A row of old medlar and hazel trees +sheltered this border from the north wind, and hid the boundary fence.</p> + +<p>"Dear old garden!" cried Allan. "How much nicer an old garden is than a +new one!"</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't mean to disparage your garden at Beechhurst. Our +gardener is always complaining of the old age of all things here. +Everything is worn out. The trees, the shrubs, the frames, the +greenhouse. One ought to begin again from the very beginning, he says. +He would be charmed with Beechhurst, where all things are so neat and +trim."</p> + +<p>"Cockney trimness, I'm afraid; but if you are satisfied with it, if you +think it not altogether a bad garden——"</p> + +<p>"I think it a delightful garden," said Suzette, blushing at that word +"satisfied," which implied so much.</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that," said Allan, with a deep sigh of content, as if +some solemn question had been settled. "And you like my mother?"</p> + +<p>"Very much indeed. But how you skip from the garden to Lady Emily!"</p> + +<p>"And you approve of the Mandarin-room?"</p> + +<p>"It is one of the handsomest rooms I ever saw, except in an Indian +palace."</p> + +<p>"Then take them, Suzette," he cried eagerly, with his arm round her +waist, drawing the slim figure to his breast, holding and dominating +her by force of will and strength of arm, smiling down at her with +adoring eyes. "Have them, dearest! Mother, garden, room—they are all +your own; for they belong to your very slave. They are at your feet, as +I am."</p> + +<p>"Do you call this being at my feet?" she asked, setting herself +suddenly free, with a joyous laugh. "You have a very impertinent way of +offering your gifts."</p> + +<p>"Not impertinent—only desperate. I remembered my repulse of the other +day, and I swore to myself that I would hold you in my arms—once, at +least, if only once, even if you were to banish me into outer darkness +the next moment—and I have done it, and I am glad! But you won't +banish me, will you, Suzette? You must needs know how I love you—how +long and patiently I have loved you——"</p> + +<p>"Long! patiently! Why, we only met at Midsummer."</p> + +<p>"Ah, consider the age that every day on which I did not see you has +seemed to me, and the time would hardly come within your powers of +computation. Suzette, be merciful! say you love me, were it ever so +little. Were it only a love like a grain of mustard-seed, I know it +would grow into a wide and spreading tree by-and-by, and all the days +of my life would be happy under its shelter."</p> + +<p>"You would think me curiously inconsistent if I owned to loving you +after what I said the other day," faltered Suzette, looking down at the +flowers.</p> + +<p>"I should think you adorable."</p> + +<p>She was only serious for a moment, and then her natural gaiety +prevailed.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that my aunt lectured me severely when I confessed to +having refused your flattering offer?"</p> + +<p>"Did she really? How sweet of her! After that, you cannot refuse me +again. Your aunt would shut you up and feed you upon bread and water, +as fathers and mothers used to do with rebellious daughters in the +eighteenth century."</p> + +<p>"I hardly think she would treat me quite so ferociously for saying +'No;' but I think she would be pleased if I were to say 'Yes.'"</p> + +<p>"And that means yes, my love, my own!" he cried, in a rapture so swift +and sudden that he had clasped her to his breast and snatched the kiss +of betrothal before she could check his impulsiveness. "You are my +very own," he said, "and I am the happiest man in England. Yes, the +happiest——Did I say in England? What a contemptible notion! I cannot +conceive the idea that anywhere upon this earth there beats a human +heart so full of gladness as mine. Suzette, Suzette, Suzette!" he +repeated tenderly, with a kiss for each comma.</p> + +<p>"What a whirlwind you are!" she remonstrated. "And what a rag you are +making of my frock! Oh, Allan, how you have hurried me into this! And +even now I am not quite sure——"</p> + +<p>"You are sure that I adore you! What more need my wife be sure of? Oh, +my darling, I have seen wedlock where no love is—only affection and +trustfulness and kindly feeling—all the domestic virtues with love +left out! Dearest, such a union is like a picture to the colour-blind, +like music to the stone-deaf, like a landscape without sunlight. There +is nothing in this world like love, and nothing can make up for love +when love is wanting."</p> + +<p>"And nothing can make up for love when love is wanting," repeated +Suzette, suddenly serious. "Oh, Allan! what if I am not sure?—if I +doubt my own feelings?"</p> + +<p>"But you can't doubt. My dearest, I am reading the signs and tokens of +love in those eloquent eyes, in those sensitive lips, while you are +talking of doubt. There is no one else, is there, Suzette?" he asked, +with quick earnestness. "No one in the past whose image comes between +you and me?"</p> + +<p>"No one, no one."</p> + +<p>"In all your Indian experiences?"</p> + +<p>"No one."</p> + +<p>"Then I am more than satisfied. And now let us go and tell my mother. +She has been waiting for a daughter ever since I was born; and, behold, +at last I am giving her one, the sweetest her heart could desire."</p> + +<p>Suzette submitted, and walked by his side in silence while he went in +search of Lady Emily, whom he finally discovered in the poultry-yard +with Bessie Edgefield. Allan's elated air and Suzette's blushes were a +sufficient indication of what had happened; and when mother and son had +clasped hands and looked at each other there was no need of words. Lady +Emily took the girl to her heart and kissed her.</p> + +<p>"I hope your father will be pleased, Suzette."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will be sorry."</p> + +<p>"And I know Mrs. Mornington will be glad. Allan has her consent in +advance."</p> + +<p>"Auntie is a very silly woman," said Suzette, laughingly. And then she +had to endure Bessie Edgefield's congratulations, which were of the +boisterous kind.</p> + +<p>"Of course you will let me be bridesmaid," she said, with that vulgar, +practical view of things which wounds the sensitiveness of the newly +betrothed almost as much as an estimate from a furniture dealer, or a +prospectus from an insurance office.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">"OUR DREAMS PURSUE OUR DEAD, AND DO NOT FIND."</p> + + +<p>Miss Vincent's engagement met with everybody's approval, with the one +exception of the marriageable young ladies of the neighbourhood, who +thought that Allan Carew had made a foolish choice, and might certainly +have done better for himself. What good could come of marrying a girl +who was neither English nor French; who had been educated in a Parisian +convent, and who drove to Salisbury every Sunday morning to hear mass?</p> + +<p>"What uncomfortable Sundays they will have!" one of these young ladies +remarked to Bessie Edgefield; "and then how horrid for him to have a +wife of a different creed! They are sure to quarrel about religion. +Isn't the Vicar dreadfully shocked?"</p> + +<p>"My father is rather sorry that Mr. Carew should marry a Roman +Catholic. There is always the fear that he might go over to Rome——"</p> + +<p>"Of course. He is sure to do that. It will be the only way to stop the +quarrelling. She will make him a pervert."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mornington, on the other hand, flattered herself that, by her +marriage with a member of the English Church, her niece would be +brought to see the errors of Rome, and would very soon make her +appearance in the family pew beside her husband.</p> + +<p>Lady Emily cherished the same hope, since, although a less ardent +Churchwoman than Mrs. Mornington, she believed in Anglicanism as the +surest road to salvation, and she dwelt also upon the difficulties that +might arise by-and-by about the poor dear children, talking of those +potential beings as if they were already on the scene.</p> + +<p>The Roman Church was severe upon that question, and it would perhaps +be impossible for Suzette to be married in her own church unless her +husband would promise that their children should be baptized and +educated in the true faith.</p> + +<p>While other people were thinking about these things for him, Allan had +no room for thought of any kind, unless a lover's meditation upon the +image of the girl he loved could be dignified by the name of thought. +For Allan, life was a perpetual ecstasy. To be with Suzette in her own +home, at the Grove, on the links, anywhere—to be with her was all +he needed for bliss. For his sake, his mother had prolonged her stay +at Beechhurst, in order that the two young people might be together +in the house where they were to live as man and wife. It was Allan's +delight to make Suzette familiar with her future home. He wanted her +to feel that this was the house in which she was to live; that under +her father's roof she was no longer at home; that her books, her +bric-à-brac, the multifarious accumulations of a happy girlhood, +might as well be transferred at once to the sunny, bow-windowed +upstair room which was to be her den. It was now a plainly furnished, +matter-of-fact morning room, a room in which the Admiral had kept his +boots, cigar-boxes, and business documents, and transacted the fussy +futilities of his unoccupied life. The mantelpiece, which had been +built up with shelves and artful cupboards for the accommodation of +the Admiral's cigars, would serve excellently to set off Suzette's +zoological china; her Dresden pugs, and rats, and lobsters, and +pigs, and rabbits, her morsels of silver, and scraps of wrought +copper would adorn the shelves; and all her little odds and ends and +never-to-be-finished bits of fancy-work could be neatly stowed away in +the cupboards.</p> + +<p>"But won't you want those dear little cubby-houses for your own +cigars?" asked Suzette. "It seems too cruel to rob you of your uncle's +snuggery. I've no doubt you smoke just as much as the Admiral."</p> + +<p>"Not cigars. My humble pipe and pouch can stow themselves away +anywhere. I only smoke cigars out hunting, and I keep a box or two in +the saddle-room for handiness. No, this is to be your room, Suzette. I +have imagined you in it until it seems so to belong to you that I feel +I am taking a liberty in writing a letter here. When are you going to +bring the Dresden bow-wows, and the elephants, and mice, and lobsters, +and donkeys?—all about of a size, by the way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I could not possibly spare them," Suzette answered quickly, making +for the door.</p> + +<p>They had come in to look at the room, and for Suzette to give her +opinion as to the colour and style of the new papering. It was to be a +Morris paper, although that would entail new carpet and curtains, and a +complete revolution as to colouring.</p> + +<p>"Spare them!" echoed Allan, detaining her. "Who wants you to spare +them? When will you bring them with you? When are you coming to take +possession of the house which is no home for me until you are mistress +of it?"</p> + +<p>This was by no means the first time the question had been asked. +Again and again had Allan pleaded that his marriage might be soon. +There was no reason why he should wait for his wife. His position +was established, his house was ready; a house as well found as that +flagship had been on whose quarter-deck the Admiral had moved as a +king. Why should he wait? He could never love his future wife more +dearly than he loved her now. All the framework of his life would be +out of gear till he had brought her home to the house which seemed +joyless and empty for want of her.</p> + +<p>"When is it to be, Suzette? When am I to be completely happy?"</p> + +<p>"What, are you not happy, <i>par exemple</i>? You talked about +overwhelming happiness when I said 'Yes.'"</p> + +<p>"That was the promise of happiness. It lifted me to the skies; but it +was only the promise. I am pining for the realization. I want you all +to myself—to have and to hold for ever and ever; beside my hearth; +interwoven with my life; mine always and always; no longer a bright, +capricious spirit, glancing about me like a gleam of sunshine, and +vanishing like the sunbeam; but a woman—my very own—of one mind and +of one heart with me. Suzette, if you love me, you will not spin out +the time of dreams; you will give yourself to me really and for ever."</p> + +<p>There was an earnestness in his tone that scared her. The blushes faded +from her cheeks, and she looked at him, pale and startled, and sudden +tears rushed to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You said you would give me time," she faltered; "time to know +you better—to be certain." And then recovering her gaiety in an +instant—"Now, Allan, it is too bad of you. Did I not tell you that I +would not be married till my one-and-twentieth birthday? Why do you +tease me to alter the date? Surely you don't want to marry an infant."</p> + +<p>"And your birthday will be on the twenty-third of June," said Allan, +rather sullenly. "Nearly a year from now."</p> + +<p>"Nearly a year from October to June! What odd ideas you have about +arithmetic! And now I must run and find Lady Emily. We are going to +drive to Morton Towers together."</p> + +<p>Allan made way for her to pass, and followed her downstairs, vexed and +disheartened. His mother was to leave him next day; and then there +would be one house the less in which he and Suzette could meet—the +house which was to be their home.</p> + +<p>He had not visited Mrs. Wornock since her nocturnal perambulation, and +he had prevented his mother paying her a second visit, albeit the hope +of a white peacock and a certain interest in the widow's personality +had made Lady Emily anxious to call at the Manor. Allan had found +reasons for putting off any such call, without saying one disparaging +word about the lady. He had heard of Mrs. Wornock from Suzette, who +reproached him for going no more to Discombe.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you were so fickle," she said. "I really think you have +behaved abominably to poor Mrs. Wornock. She is always asking me why +you don't go to see her; and I am tired of inventing excuses."</p> + +<p>Suzette was at the Manor every other day. Mrs. Wornock was teaching her +to play the organ.</p> + +<p>"Is it not sweet of her?" she asked Allan. "And though I don't suppose +she ever gave any one a lesson in her life till she began to teach me, +she has the teaching gift in a marked degree. I love to learn of her. +I can play some simple things of Haydn's not altogether badly. Perhaps +you will do me the honour to come and hear me some day, when I have got +a little further."</p> + +<p>"I will go to hear you to-morrow, if I may."</p> + +<p>"What! Then you have no objection to Discombe in the abstract, though +you have cut poor Mrs. Wornock for the last six weeks?"</p> + +<p>"I was so much occupied with my mother."</p> + +<p>"And your mother wanted badly to call upon Mrs. Wornock, and you +always put a stumbling-block in her way. But I am happy to say Lady +Emily is to have the white peacock all the same. She is to have a pair +of birds. I have taken care of that."</p> + +<p>"Like a good and thoughtful daughter."</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>When Allan came back from the station, after seeing his mother safely +seated in the London train, he found a letter from Mrs. Wornock on the +hall table—a hand-delivered letter which had just arrived. It was +brief and to the point.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"Why have you deserted me, Allan? Have I unconsciously offended +you, or is there no room in your heart for friendship as well as +love? I hear of your happiness from Suzette; but I want to see +you and your sweetheart roaming about the gardens here as in the +old days, before you were engaged lovers. Now that Lady Emily is +leaving Beechhurst, you will have time to spare for me."</p> +</div> + +<p>The letter seemed a reproach, and he felt that he deserved to be +reproached by her. How kind she had been, how sympathetic, how +interested in his love-story; and what an ingrate he must appear in her +eyes!</p> + +<p>He did not wait for the following morning and the music-lesson, lest +Mrs. Wornock should think he went to Discombe only on Suzette's +account. He set out immediately after reading that reproachful little +letter, and walked through the lanes and copses to the Manor House.</p> + +<p>It was four o'clock when he arrived, and Mrs. Wornock was at home and +alone. The swelling tones of that wonderful organ answered his question +on the threshold. No beginner could play with that broad, strong +touch, which gave grandeur to the simple phrases of an "Agnus Dei" by +Palestrina.</p> + +<p>She started up as Allan was announced, and went quickly to meet him, +giving him both her hands.</p> + +<p>"This is so good of you," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Then you are not offended, and you have forgiven me?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs. Wornock, why should I be offended? I have received +nothing but kindness from you."</p> + +<p>"I thought you might be angry with me for refusing the invitation to +your luncheon-party."</p> + +<p>"It would have been very impertinent of me to be angry, when I know +what a recluse you are."</p> + +<p>"It is a month since you were here—a whole calendar month. Why didn't +you bring Lady Emily to see me? But perhaps she did not wish to come. +Was that so?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mrs. Wornock," he answered coldly. "My mother wished to call upon +you."</p> + +<p>"And you prevented her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Why did you do that?"</p> + +<p>"Dare I be frank with you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes! You cannot be too frank. I love you, Allan. Always +remember that. You are to me as a second son."</p> + +<p>Her warmth startled and scared him. His face flushed hotly, and he +stood before her in mute embarrassment. If the secret of the past +was indeed the guilty secret which he had suspected, there was utter +shamelessness in this speech of hers.</p> + +<p>"Allan, why are you silent?"</p> + +<p>"Because there are some things that can hardly be said; least of all by +a man of my age to a woman of yours."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing that you can say to me, Allan, about myself or my +regard for you, that can bring a blush to my face or to yours. There is +nothing in my life of which I need be ashamed in your sight or in the +sight of my son."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, forgive me, if my secret thoughts have sometimes wronged +you. There has been so much to surprise and mystify me. Your agitation +on hearing my father's name; your painful embarrassment when I brought +my mother here; and last, and most of all, your secret visit to +Beechhurst when my father was there."</p> + +<p>"What! you know of that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I saw your face at the open window, looking in at him."</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands, and there were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she faltered, after a silence of some moments, "I was looking +at the face I had not seen for nearly thirty years—the face that +looked at me like a ghost from the past, and had no knowledge of me, +no care for me. I knew—I have known in all these years that George +Beresford was to be looked for among the living. I have sought for +him in the spirit-world, again and again and again, in long days and +nights of waiting, in my dreams, in long, far-reaching thoughts that +have carried my soul away from this dull earth; but there was no +answer—not a thought, not a breath out of that unseen world where my +spirit would have touched his had he died while he was young, and while +he still loved me. But he lived, and grew old like me, and found a new +love, and so we are as wide apart as if we had never met. I stood in +the darkness outside your window for nearly an hour, looking at him, +listening to his voice when he spoke—the dear, kind voice! <i>That</i> +was not changed."</p> + +<p>"It is true, then? You knew and loved my father years ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, knew him and loved him, and would have been his wife if it had +been for his happiness to marry me. Think of that, Allan! I was to have +been his wife, and I gave him up for his own sake."</p> + +<p>"Why did you do that? Why should you not have married him?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was only a poor girl, and he was a gentleman—the only son +of a rich widow, and his mother would never have forgiven him for such +a marriage. I knew nothing of that when he asked me to be his wife. I +only knew that we loved each other truly and dearly. But just before +the day that was to have been our wedding-day his mother came to me, +and told me that if I persisted in marrying him I should be the bane of +his life. It would be social extinction for him to marry me. Social +extinction! I remember those words, though I hardly knew then what they +meant. I was not eighteen, Allan, and I knew less of the world than +many children of eight. But I did not give up my happiness without a +struggle. There was strong persuasion brought to bear upon me; and at +last I yielded—for his sake."</p> + +<p>"And blighted his life!" exclaimed Allan. "My mother is the best of +women, and the best and kindest of wives; but I have always known +that my father's marriage was a loveless marriage. Well," he went on, +recovering himself quickly, apprehensive lest he should lower his +mother's dignity by revealing too much, "you acted generously, and no +doubt for the best, in making that sacrifice, and all has worked round +well. You married a good man, and secured a position of more importance +than my father's smaller means could have given you."</p> + +<p>"Position! means!" she repeated, in bitterest scorn. "Oh, Allan, don't +think so poorly of me as to suppose that it was Mr. Wornock's wealth +which attracted me. I married him because he was kind and sympathetic +and good to me in my loneliness—a pupil at a German conservatoire, +living with stony-hearted people, who only cared for me to the extent +of the money that was paid for my board and lodging, and who were +always saying hard things to me because they had agreed to take me so +cheaply—too cheaply, they said. I used to feel as if I were cheating +them when I sat at their wretched meals, and I was thankful that I had +a wretched appetite."</p> + +<p>"You were cruelly used, dear Mrs. Wornock. I can just remember my +grandmother, and I know she was a hard woman. She had no right to +interfere with her son's disposal of his life."</p> + +<p>"No, she had no right. If I had known even as much of the world as I +know now, when Miss Marjorum—Mrs. Beresford's messenger—came to me, +I would have acted differently. I know now that a gentleman need not +be ashamed of marrying a penniless girl if there is nothing against +her but her poverty; but then I believed what Miss Marjorum told +me—believed that I should blight the life of the man who loved me with +such generous self-sacrificing love. Why should he alone be generous, +and I selfish and indifferent to his welfare?"</p> + +<p>"But how did he suffer you to sacrifice yourself at his mother's +bidding?"</p> + +<p>"He had no power to stop me. It was all settled without his knowledge. +I hope he was not very sorry—dear, dear George!—so generous, so true, +so noble. Oh, how I loved him—how I have loved him—all my life, +all my life! My husband knew that I had no heart to give him—that I +could be his obedient wife—but that I could never love him as I had +loved——"</p> + +<p>Again her sobs choked her speech. She threw herself into a chair and +abandoned herself to that passionate grief.</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Wornock, forgive me for having revived these sorrowful +memories. I was wrong—I ought not to have spoken——"</p> + +<p>"No, no, there is nothing to forgive. It does me good to talk of the +past—with you, Allan, with you, not with any one else. And now you +know why my heart went out to you from the first. Why you are to me +almost as a son—almost as dear as my own son—and your future wife +as my daughter. It does me good to talk to you of that time—so long +and long ago. It does me good to talk of my dead self. I have never +forgotten. The past has always been dearer to me than anything in this +life that came afterwards."</p> + +<p>"I do not think my father has forgotten that past, any more than you +have, Mrs. Wornock. I know that there has always been a cloud over his +life—the shadow of one sad memory. I have felt and understood this, +without knowing whence the shadow came."</p> + +<p>"He was too true-hearted to forget easily," Mrs. Wornock said, gently, +"and we were both so young. I was his first love, as he was mine. And +when a first love is pure and strong as ours was, it must be first and +last, must it not, Allan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered, half doubtfully, remembering certain sketchy loves +of his own, and hoping that they could hardly be ranked as love, so +that he might believe that his passion for Suzette was essentially the +first; essentially, if not actually.</p> + +<p>"No, I have never forgotten," Mrs. Wornock repeated musingly, seating +herself at the piano, and softly touching the notes now and then, +playing a few bars of pensive melody sotto voce as she talked—now a +phrase from an Adagio of Beethoven's, now a resolution from a prelude +by Bach, dropping gravely down into the bass with softly repetitive +phrases, from piano to pianissimo, melting into silence like a sigh. +"No, I have never forgotten—and I have suffered from the pains as well +as the pleasures of memory. Before my son was born, and after, there +was a long interval of darkness when I lived only in the past, when the +shadows of the past were more real to me than the living things of the +present, when my husband's face was dim and distant, and that dear face +from the past was always near me, with the kind smile that comforted +me in my desolate youth. Yes, I loved him, Allan, loved him, and gave +him up for his own sake. And now you tell me my sacrifice was useless; +that, even with the wife his mother chose for him, the good amiable +wife, he has not been altogether happy."</p> + +<p>"His life has been placid, studious, kindly, and useful. It may be that +he was best fitted for that calm, secluded life—it may be that if you +had taken the more natural and the more selfish course—and in so doing +parted him for ever from his mother, who was a proud woman, capable of +lifelong resentment—it may be that remorse might have blighted his +life, and that even your love would not have consoled him under the +conviction that he had broken his mother's heart. I know that, after +her strong-minded masterful fashion, she adored him. He was all she +had in this world to love or care for; and it is quite possible that +a lasting quarrel with him might have killed her. Dear Mrs. Wornock, +pray do not think that your sacrifice was altogether in vain. No such +self-surrender as that can be without some good fruit. I do not pretend +to be a holy person, but I do believe in the power of goodness. And, +consider, dear friend, your life has not been all unhappy. You had a +kind and good husband."</p> + +<p>"Good! He was more than good, and for over a year of our married life +I was a burden to him. He was an exile from the home he loved, for my +sake—for me, who ought to have brightened his home for him."</p> + +<p>"But that was only a dark interval," said Allan, remembering what Mrs. +Mornington had told him, of the long residence at Grindelwald, and +the birth of the heir in that remote spot. "There were happier days +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we had a few peaceful years here, before death took him from me, +and while our boy was growing in strength and beauty."</p> + +<p>"And in these long years of widowhood music has been your comforter. In +your devotion to art you have lived the higher life."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, with an inspired look, striking a triumphant +chord, "music has been my comforter—music has conjured back my dead +father, my lost lover. Music has been my life and my hope."</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="ph2">THE MASTER OF DISCOMBE.</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Wornock's frank revelation of her girlish love and self-sacrifice +lifted a burden from Allan's heart and mind. He had been interested in +her, and attracted towards her from that first summer noontide when +he studied her thoughtful face in the village church, and when he +lingered among the villagers' graves to hear her play. His sympathy had +grown with every hour he spent in her society, and he had been deeply +grateful for the friendship which had so cordially included him and the +girl he loved. It had been very painful to him to believe that this +sweet-mannered woman belonged to the fallen ones of the earth, that her +graces were the graces of a Magdalen, most painful to think that she +was no fitting companion for the girl who had so readily responded to +her friendly advances.</p> + +<p>The cloud was lifted now, and he felt ashamed of all his past doubts +and suspicions. He respected Mrs. Wornock for her refusal to meet his +father in the beaten way of friendship. He was touched by the devotion +which had brought her creeping to his windows under the cover of night +to look upon the face of her beloved. He resolved that he would do +all that in him lay to atone for the wrong his thoughts had done her, +that he would be to her, indeed, as a second son, and that he would +cultivate her son's friendship in a brotherly spirit.</p> + +<p>He stopped in the corridor on the morning after that interview to +study the portrait of the young man whose likeness to himself had now +resolved itself into a psychological mystery, and he could but see that +it was a likeness of the mind rather than of the flesh, a resemblance +in character and expression far more than in actual lineaments.</p> + +<p>"He is vastly my superior in looks," thought Allan, as he studied +the lines of that boldly painted face. "He has his mother's finely +chiselled features, his mother's delicate colouring. There is a shade +of effeminacy, otherwise the face would be almost faultless. And to +mistake this face for that! Absurd!" muttered Allan, catching the +reflection of his sunburnt forehead, and strongly marked nose and chin, +in the Venetian glass that hung at right angles with the picture.</p> + +<p>He heard the organ while the butler paused with his hand on the door, +waiting to announce the visitor. The simpler music, the weaker touch, +told him that the pupil was playing.</p> + +<p>"Please don't stop," he cried, as he went in; "I want to hear if the +pupil is worthy of her mistress."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock came to meet him, and Suzette went on playing, with only a +smile and a nod to her sweetheart.</p> + +<p>"She is getting on capitally. She has a real delight in music," +announced Mrs. Wornock.</p> + +<p>"How happy you are looking this morning!"</p> + +<p>"I have had good news. My son is on his way home."</p> + +<p>"I congratulate you."</p> + +<p>"He is coming home for his long leave. I shall have him for nearly a +year."</p> + +<p>"How happy you will be! I have just been studying his portrait."</p> + +<p>"You are so like him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, only a rough copy—a charcoal sketch on coarse paper,—nothing to +boast of," said Allan, with a curious laugh.</p> + +<p>He was watching Suzette, to see if she were interested in the expected +arrival. She played on, her eyes intent alternately upon the page of +music in front of her, and upon the stops which she was learning to +use. There was no stumbling in the notes, or halting in the time. She +played the simple legato passages smoothly and carefully, and seemed to +pay no heed to their talk.</p> + +<p>Allan would have been less than human, perhaps, if his first thought on +hearing of Geoffrey's return had not been of the influence he might +exercise upon Suzette—whether in him she would recognize the superior +and more attractive personality.</p> + +<p>"No," he thought, ashamed of that jealous fear which was so quick to +foresee a rival, "Suzette has given me her heart, and it must be my +own fault if I can't keep it. Women are our superiors, at least in +this, that they are not so easily caught by the modelling of a face, +or the rich tones of a complexion. And shall I think so meanly of my +sweet Suzette as to suppose that my happiness is in danger because some +one more attractive than myself appears upon the scene? When we spend +our first season in London as man and wife, she will have to run the +gauntlet of all the agreeable men in town, soldiers and sailors, actors +and painters, ingenuous young adorers and hoary-headed flatterers. The +whole army of Satan that maketh war upon innocence and beauty. No, I am +not afraid. She has a fine brain and a noble heart. She is not the kind +of woman to jilt a lover or betray a husband. I am safe in loving her."</p> + +<p>He had need to comfort himself, for the hour of trial was nearer than +he thought.</p> + +<p>He went to Discombe before luncheon on the morning after he had heard +of Geoffrey's return. He went expecting to find Suzette at the organ, +and to hear the latter part of the lesson. He was not a connoisseur, +but he loved music well enough to love to hear his sweetheart play, and +to be able to distinguish every stage of progress in her performance. +To-day, however, the organ was silent; the youth who blew the bellows +was chasing a wasp in the corridor, and the room into which Allan was +ushered was empty.</p> + +<p>"The ladies are in the garden, sir," said the butler. "Shall I tell my +mistress that you are here?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks, I'll go and look for the ladies."</p> + +<p>The autumn morning was bright and mild, and one of the French windows +was open.</p> + +<p>Allan hurried out to the garden, and looked down the cypress avenue. +The long perspective of smooth-shaven lawn was empty. There was no one +loitering by the fountain. They were in the summer-house—the classic +temple where Mrs. Wornock had sunk into unconsciousness at the sound +of his father's name, where he had lived through the most embarrassing +experience of his life.</p> + +<p>He could distinguish Mrs. Wornock's black gown, and Suzette's +terra-cotta frock, a cloth frock from a Salisbury tailor, which he had +greatly admired. But there was another figure that puzzled him—an +unfamiliar figure in grey—a man's figure.</p> + +<p>Never had the grass walk seemed so long, or the temple so remote. +Yes, that third figure was decidedly masculine. There was no optical +delusion as to the sex of the stranger—no petticoat hidden behind the +marble table. As he drew nearer he saw that the intruder was a young +man, sitting in a lounging attitude with his arms resting on the table, +and his shoulders leaning forward to bring him nearer to the two +ladies seated opposite.</p> + +<p>He felt that it would be undignified to run, but he walked so fast in +his eagerness to discover the identity of the interloper that he was in +an undignified perspiration when he arrived.</p> + +<p>"Allan, poor Allan, how you have been running!" exclaimed Suzette.</p> + +<p>"I was vexed with myself for losing the whole of your organ lesson," +said Allan, shaking hands with Mrs. Wornock, and gazing at the stranger +as at a ghost.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was Geoffrey Wornock. Even his hurried reflections during +that hurried walk had told Allan that it must be he, and none other. +No one else would be admitted to the familiarity of the garden and +summer-house. Mrs. Wornock had no casual visitors, no intimate friends, +except Suzette and himself.</p> + +<p>"There has been no organ lesson this morning, Allan," Mrs. Wornock +told him, her face radiant with happiness. "Suzette and I have been +surprised out of all sober occupations and ideas. This son of mine took +it into his head to come home nearly a fortnight before I expected him. +He arrived as suddenly as if he had dropped from the skies. He did not +even telegraph to be met at the station."</p> + +<p>"A telegram would have taken the bloom off the surprise, mother," said +the man in grey, standing up tall and straight, but slenderly built.</p> + +<p>Allan felt himself a coarse gladiatorial sort of person beside +this elegant and refined-looking young man. Nor was there anything +effeminate about that graceful figure to which an envious critic could +take exception. Soldiering had given that air of manliness which can +co-exist with slenderness and grace.</p> + +<p>"Geoffrey, this is Allan, of whom you know so much."</p> + +<p>"They tell me that you and I are very much alike, Mr. Carew," said +Geoffrey, with a pleasant laugh, "and my mother tells me that you and +I are to take kindly to each other, and in fact she expects to see +us by way of being adopted brothers. I don't quite know what that +means—whether we are to ride each other's horses, and make free with +each other's guns, or go halves in a yacht or a racehorse?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to like each other—to be real friends," said Mrs. Wornock, +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Then don't say another word about it, mother. Friendship under that +kind of protecting influence rarely comes to any good; but I am quite +prepared to like Mr. Carew on his own account, and I hope he may be +able to like me on the same poor grounds."</p> + +<p>He had an airy way of dismissing the subject which set them all +at their ease, and steered them away from the rocks and shoals of +sentiment. Mrs. Wornock, who had been on the verge of weeping, smiled +again, and led Geoffrey off to look at the gardens, and all the +improvements which had been effected during his three years' absence, +leaving the lovers to follow or not as they pleased.</p> + +<p>The lovers stayed in the summer-house, feeling that mother and son +would like to be alone; and mother and son strolled on side by side, +looking like brother and sister.</p> + +<p>"My dearest," said Mrs. Wornock, tenderly, slipping her arm through +her son's directly they were really alone, and out of sight, in an +old flower-garden walled round by dense hedges of clipped ilex, a +garden laid out in a geometrical pattern, and with narrow gravel paths +intersecting the flower-beds. The glory of all gardens was over. There +were only a few lingering dahlias, and prim asters lifting up their +gaudy discs to the sun, and beds of marigolds of different shades, from +palest yellow to deepest orange.</p> + +<p>"My dearest, how glad I am to have you! I begin to live again now you +have come home."</p> + +<p>"And I am very glad to be at home, mother," answered her son, smiling +down upon her, fondly, protectingly, but with that light tone which +marked all he said. "But it seems to me you have been very much alive +while I have been away, with this young man of yours who is almost an +adopted son."</p> + +<p>"My heart went out to him, Geoffrey, because of his likeness to you."</p> + +<p>"A dangerous precedent. You might meet half a dozen such likenesses in +a London season. It would hardly do for your heart to go out to them +all. You would be coming home with a large family—by adoption."</p> + +<p>"There is no fear of that. I don't go into society, and I don't think, +if I did, I should meet any one like Allan Carew."</p> + +<p>Geoffrey could but note the tenderness in her tone as she spoke Allan's +name.</p> + +<p>"And who is this double of mine, mother; and what is he, and how does +he come to be engaged to that dainty, dark-eyed girl?"</p> + +<p>"You like Suzette?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I like her—she is a nice, winning thing—not startlingly pretty; +but altogether nice. I like the way that dark silky hair of hers breaks +up into tiny curls about her forehead—and she has fine eyes——"</p> + +<p>"India has made you critical, Geoffrey."</p> + +<p>"Not India, but a native disposition, mother dearest. In India we +have often to put up with second best in the way of beauty, faded +carnations, tired eyes, hollow cheeks; but the young women have +generally plenty to say for themselves. They can talk, and they can +dance. They are educated for the marriage market before they are sent +out."</p> + +<p>His mother laughed, and hung on to his arm admiringly. In her opinion, +whatever he said was either wise or witty. All his impertinences were +graceful. His ignorance was better than other people's knowledge.</p> + +<p>"You have not neglected your violin, I hope, Geoffrey?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother. My good little Strad has been my friend and comrade in +many a quiet hour while the other fellows were at cards, or telling +stale stories. I shall be very glad to play the old de Beriot duets +again. Your fingers have not lost their cunning, I know."</p> + +<p>"I have played a great deal while you were away. I have had nothing +else to think about."</p> + +<p>"Except Allan Carew."</p> + +<p>"He has not made much difference. He comes and goes as he +likes—especially when Suzette is here. I sit at my organ or piano and +let them wander about and amuse themselves."</p> + +<p>"What an indulgent chaperon!"</p> + +<p>"I knew what the end must be, Geoffrey. I knew from the first that they +were in love with each other. At least I knew from the very first that +he was in love with her."</p> + +<p>"You were not so sure about the lady?"</p> + +<p>"A girl is too shy to let her feelings be read easily; but I could see +she liked his society. They used to roam about the garden together like +children. They were too happy not to be in love."</p> + +<p>"Does being in love mean happiness, mother? Don't you think there is a +middle state between indifference and passion—a cordial, comfortable, +sympathetic friendship which is far happier than love? It has no +cold fits of doubt, no hot fits of jealousy. From your account of +these young people, I question if they were ever really in love. Your +Carew looks essentially commonplace. I don't give him credit for much +imagination."</p> + +<p>"You will understand him better by-and-by, dearest."</p> + +<p>The mother was looking up at the newly regained son, admiring him, and +beginning to fancy that she had done him an injustice in thinking that +Allan resembled him. He was much handsomer than Allan, and there was +something picturesque and romantic in his countenance and bearing which +appealed to a woman's fancy; a look as of the Lovelaces and Dorsets of +old, the courtiers and soldiers who could write a love-song on the eve +of a bloody battle, or dance a minuet at midnight, and fight a duel at +dawn. His manner to his mother was playful and protecting. He had not +the air of thinking her the wisest of women, but no one could doubt +that he loved her.</p> + +<p>The summer-house was empty when they went back to it, and there was a +pencilled note on the marble table addressed to Mrs. Wornock.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"Allan is going to see me home in time to give father his tiffin, +and I think you and Mr. Wornock will like to have the day to +yourselves. I shall come for my organ lesson to-morrow at eleven, +unless you tell me to stop away—</p> + +<p class="ph3">"Ever, dear Mrs. Wornock, your own<br> +"SUZETTE."</p> +</div> + +<p>"Pretty tactful soul! Of course we want to be alone," said Geoffrey, +reading the note over his mother's shoulder. "First you shall give me +the best lunch that Discombe can provide; and then we will drive round +and look at everything. And we will devote the evening to de Beriot. I +must go up to town by an early train to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Running away from me so soon, Geoffrey?"</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, it's base ingratitude to say that. I've hardly given +myself breathing time since I landed at Brindisi, because I wanted +to push home to you, first of the very first. I shall only be in +London a day or two. I want to see what kind of horses are being sold +at Tattersall's, and I may run down to look at the Belhus hunters. +Remember I haven't a horse to ride."</p> + +<p>"There are your old hunters, Geoffrey?"</p> + +<p>"Three dear old crocks. Admirable as pensioners, not to carry eleven +stone to hounds. No, mother, I'm afraid there's nothing in your stables +that will be good for more than a cover-hack."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wornock sighed faintly in the midst of her bliss. She had a +womanly horror of hunting and all its perils, and in her heart of +hearts was always on the side of the fox; but she knew that without +hunting and shooting Discombe Manor would very soon pall upon +her son, dilettante and Jack-of-all-trades though he was. Music +alone—passionately as he loved it—would not keep him contented.</p> + +<p>Allan and Suzette strolled home under the bright blue sky. These +late days in October were the Indian summer of the year, a season in +which it was a joy to live, especially in a land where the smoke from +domestic hearths curling upward here and there in silvery wreaths from +wood fires, only suggested homeliness and warmth, not filth and fog. +They sauntered slowly homeward through the rustic lanes, and their talk +was naturally of the new arrival.</p> + +<p>"Is he the kind of young man you expected him to be?" asked Suzette.</p> + +<p>There was no occasion to be more specific in one's mention of +<i>him</i>. There could but be one young man in their thoughts to-day.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I had formed any expectations about him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Allan, that can't be true! You must have thought about him, after +everybody telling you of the likeness. Remember what you told me in our +very first dance—how dreadfully bored you had been about him, and how +glad you were that I didn't know him."</p> + +<p>"My being bored—and I was horribly—was no reason why my imagination +should dwell upon him. If I thought of him at all, I thought of him +just as he is—the image of his portrait by Millais—and a very +good-looking and well set-up young man—so much better looking than my +humble self, that I wonder at any one's seeing a likeness between the +two faces."</p> + +<p>"Is he better looking, Allan? I know I like your face best."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of that, since you will have to put up with my face for a +lifelong companion."</p> + +<p>"Allan, how grumpily you said that."</p> + +<p>"Did I, Suzie? I'm afraid I'm a brute. I am beginning to find out +disagreeable depths in my character."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a puzzled air—so sweetly innocent, so free from +any backward-reaching thought—that made him happy again. He took up +the little hand hanging loose at her side and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"Let us drop in upon Aunt Mornington, and ask her for lunch," he said +as they came within sight of the Grove. "I don't feel like parting with +you just yet, Suzie."</p> + +<p>"Quite impossible. I must be at home for father's tiffin."</p> + +<p>"I forgot that sacred institution. Well, Suzie, do you think it's +possible the General might ask me to share that important meal if he +saw me hanging about? We could go to the links afterwards, so that you +might have the pleasure of seeing how wildly I can beat the air?"</p> + +<p>Suzie laughed her assent to this proposition, and General Vincent, +overtaking them five minutes afterwards on his useful hack, sustained +an Anglo-Indian's reputation for hospitality by immediately inviting +Allan to luncheon.</p> + + +<p class="ph4">END OF VOL. I.</p> + + +<p class="ph4">LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,<br> +STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.</p> + + +<p class="ph4">[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphens left as printed.]</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75173 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75173-h/images/cover.jpg b/75173-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ecc06f --- /dev/null +++ b/75173-h/images/cover.jpg 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. 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