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diff --git a/76967-h/76967-h.htm b/76967-h/76967-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a4feb75 --- /dev/null +++ b/76967-h/76967-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16193 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Princess Puck | 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; + 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.tiny {width: 10%; margin-left: 45%; margin-right: 45%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +td {padding-left: 0.5em;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} + +div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} +div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} + +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .indent {text-indent: 1.5em;} +.poetry .first {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} +.poetry .first2 {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3.1em;} +@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } +.x-ebookmaker .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} + +.antiqua { + font-family: Blackletter, Fraktur, Textur, "Old English Text MT", "Olde English Mt", "Olde English", + "Old English", "Engravers Old English BT", "Collins Old English", "New Old English", Gothic, serif, sans-serif;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76967 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="titlepage"> +<h1>PRINCESS PUCK</h1> + +<p>BY<br> +<span class="large">U. L. SILBERRAD</span></p> + +<p><span class="antiqua">London</span><br> +<span class="large">MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span></span><br> +1902</p> + +<p><i>All rights reserved</i></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> + <h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table> + +<tr><td class="tdr"><span class="allsmcap">CHAPTER</span></td><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><span class="allsmcap">PAGE</span></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td> MISS BROWNLOW’S NIECES,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1"> 1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td> BILL,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_12"> 12</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td> ROBERT MORTON,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20"> 20</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td> HARBOROUGH OF CROWS’ FARM,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31"> 31</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td> FOR BILL’S GOOD,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44"> 44</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td>THE RIGHT OF WAY,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_57"> 57</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td> HARBOROUGH OF GURNETT,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72"> 72</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td> THE COURTSHIP OF HARBOROUGH OF GURNETT,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_88"> 88</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td> “RED IS THE ROSE,”</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_107"> 107</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td> IN THE GARDEN,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_124"> 124</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td> WILHELMINA I. AND II.,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_138"> 138</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td> NATURAL SELECTION,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150"> 150</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td> CHASING A SHADOW,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_156"> 156</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td> THE COURTSHIP OF HARBOROUGH OF CROWS’ FARM,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171"> 171</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td> FAMILY HISTORY,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187"> 187</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td> A GRANDFATHER,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_198"> 198</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td> THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF A GUARDIAN,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_208"> 208</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td> THE PLUM HARVEST,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_219"> 219</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td> PETER HARBOROUGH: SHOT,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_231"> 231</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td> HARBOROUGH OF BYBRIDGE,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_248"> 248</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td><td> THE ACQUISITIVE FACULTY,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_266"> 266</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td><td> POLLY SETTLES THINGS,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_279"> 279</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td><td> PETER HARBOROUGH’S SHOE-BUCKLES,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_285"> 285</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV.</td><td> THE COURTSHIP OF HARBOROUGH OF BYBRIDGE,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_303"> 303</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXV.</td><td> GENERAL SERVANT,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_317"> 317</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVI.</td><td> AN OLD WOUND,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_337"> 337</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVII.</td><td> A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_346"> 346</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVIII.</td><td> THE OAK BOX GOES TO WRUGGLESBY,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_364"> 364</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIX.</td><td> POLLY PROVES A TRUE PROPHET,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_378"> 378</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXX.</td><td> A RELISH WITH TEA,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_392"> 392</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXI.</td><td> THE FULFILLING OF THE DREAM,</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_399"> 399</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I.<br> +<small>MISS BROWNLOW’S NIECES.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was in March that Bill Alardy went to Ashelton. +She was sent there “to grow up,” Polly said, and +added some sceptical remarks with regard to both +place and person. “Poor little Wilhelmina,” said +Miss Brownlow, “she has never had a fair chance +among us all; the best possible thing for her would +be to go to Ashelton with Theresa.” And Miss +Brownlow should have known, for she was acquainted +with Ashelton, and even better acquainted +with Bill, having had the doubtful pleasure of her +charge and company from early childhood. Polly +did not know much about Ashelton; she had only +been there once to spend the day with Theresa, +which was a grievance in itself, for Theresa had lived +there ever since her marriage last June. That, +however, was beside the point; Polly did not so +much base her doubts of the efficacy of the plan on +Ashelton as on Bill, and she had known her as long +as Miss Brownlow, for she was the eldest, as Bill +was the youngest, of the four nieces Miss Brownlow +had taken into her household. Polly’s opinion and +Miss Brownlow’s were not identical on the subject +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span>of Bill; but when the matter of the going to +Ashelton was being discussed Polly did not consider +it necessary to give undue prominence to the difference, +thinking Bill might as well go even if it did +her no good.</p> + +<p>It was a Monday evening when the plan was first +mentioned, and Miss Brownlow was making up her +accounts at the time. She always made up her +accounts on Monday evenings. In her opinion +there was no other time half so satisfactory, because, +as she said, there was Sunday just before, and it was +so easy to remember forgotten things on a Sunday. +Perhaps it was not right to think of such things +then, and of course she never did so on purpose, +only one cannot help things flashing across one’s +mind. Occasionally the things flashed away again +before she had time to secure them on Monday +evening; occasionally also, the flashes were delusive +and baseless; but on the other hand, sometimes +they did chance to be correct, and then it was most +satisfactory. This did not make any material +difference to Miss Brownlow’s accounts, which never +by any chance came right; they never had come +right since she first began keeping them in her girlhood, +more years ago than she ever mentioned.</p> + +<p>“My father always insisted on our keeping an +account of our money, and how we spent it,” she +used to say to her nieces. “It is an excellent plan, +my dears, for then you know where you are and +how you stand.” These desirable results did not +always occur in her own case, though that did not +deter her nieces from following the suggestion, each +according to her nature,—Theresa with neatness and +some success, Bella with results not unlike her aunt’s, +Polly—there were commercial instincts in Polly’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span>blood and her untidy books were kept with an +accuracy which might have savoured of sharp +practice to any one who could comprehend them. +Bill, of course, was too young to be considered, and +too penniless to keep a record of her non-existent +income; moreover, she was only “Poor little Bill—Wilhelmina”—Miss +Brownlow invariably made the +correction in mind and sometimes in speech. She +sighed as she thought about the girl,—she had just +come to the item <i>one shilling, a bottle of Stephens’s blue-black +writing-ink</i>. Bill had on Thursday upset the +last bottle on the schoolroom-floor, in class, too, +with all the little girls looking on. How they +giggled! Polly said afterwards that Bill made +them, but Miss Brownlow did not think so. Bill +was too old to do anything so wrong; she was +seventeen now, though she seemed such a child. +Polly, who was perhaps not without authority on +the subject, was of opinion that age had little to do +with iniquity, but Miss Brownlow was not convinced. +In any case she had to pay the shilling +for another bottle of ink. The column of figures +she was now counting up did not come to the total +she expected: “Now what have I forgotten?” she +said.</p> + +<p>Bella and Theresa glanced up but did not hazard a +suggestion; they knew the remark was not addressed +to them, and they went on correcting French +exercises in silence. These French exercises were +really Bella’s work, but Theresa was helping her +with them to-night. A year ago they were Theresa’s +own, but when she married her sister had taken up +that part of her work. Theresa was on a visit to +Miss Brownlow, and finding herself back among the +familiar surroundings it came quite natural to her to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span>take up some part of the old duties; besides, she +liked to help Bella.</p> + +<p>As the two tall sisters sat close together, sharing +the same dictionary and sometimes bending over the +same page, Miss Brownlow thought they made a +beautiful picture; possibly even a less prejudiced +observer might not have entirely disagreed. Polly +was certainly not a prejudiced observer, yet even she +admitted the sisters’ beauty in a general way. She +did not look in their direction now, for she was busy +with her needlework. She sat opposite to Miss +Brownlow, close to the lamp, her dressmaking +scattered around her. She possessed a perfect +genius for what is technically known as “doing up” +her clothes; consequently some of them were always +undergoing alterations and repairs, and none of them +kept the same appearance for long together.</p> + +<p>“I cannot account for sixpence,” Miss Brownlow +said at last; “on what can I have spent sixpence?”</p> + +<p>“Cabbages,” Polly said briefly.</p> + +<p>“Cabbages! My dear Polly, one cannot buy +cabbages at this time of year, nor hardly anything +else either; vegetables are so dear and scarce, it is +really quite dreadful.”</p> + +<p>“Sweep,” was Polly’s only comment.</p> + +<p>But it was not the sweep, Miss Brownlow said. +“We have not had him this fortnight past,” she +declared. “Don’t you remember, the last—”</p> + +<p>“Then we ought to have had.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I am sure we do not need him yet, don’t +you remember the last time he came—”</p> + +<p>Polly did not remember, and she showed no interest +in the reminiscence; but Theresa, who did not like +to hear Miss Brownlow treated so cavalierly, encouraged +her aunt to describe the last coming of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span>sweep and the delinquencies of the maid-servant who +overslept herself on that occasion. “And I really do +believe he would never have got in at all if it had not +been for Bill; she heard him ringing and went down +and let him in,—in her nightdress too!”</p> + +<p>“That sixpence is for mending Bill’s boots.” This +was Polly’s remark.</p> + +<p>“What a memory you have!” Miss Brownlow +exclaimed, and Polly showed signs of remembering +the incident of the sweep. “Bill did go down +to him,” she said, “in her nightdress and <i>nothing +else</i>. I should like to know how long she stopped +down with him!”</p> + +<p>Polly had a habit of talking in italics; her treatment +of the English language made it acquire an +almost double value, her intonation giving the words +an additional worth and meaning. Her last speech +was an admirable example of her methods; there +were many more things implied in it than were said. +It was the implications which made Bella exclaim, +“You are hard on the child.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well!” And Polly shrugged her shoulders +and bent over her work again.</p> + +<p>“Poor little Bill, poor little Wilhelmina!” Miss +Brownlow sighed softly.</p> + +<p>Polly sniffed and Theresa asked: “How much +longer are you going to let her be in the school?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, a long time,” Miss Brownlow answered +readily; she had not begun to contemplate the problem +of Bill’s future, nor even to admit its existence. +Polly knew that and her small dark eyes showed +that she knew it as she remarked: “I began to +teach the little ones before I was seventeen.”</p> + +<p>Miss Brownlow looked distressed, but Bella said +cheerfully: “That was long ago; Auntie wanted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span>help then. Now it is quite different; if Bill were +ever so able to teach there would not be the slightest +need for her to do it; in fact I don’t see whom she +would teach.”</p> + +<p>This speech, though perhaps hardly likely to fulfil +its comforting intention, was unfortunately only too +true. It was indisputable that Miss Brownlow’s +school was not what it had been, that its best days +lay behind it. At one time it had been almost an +Establishment, the recognised school of Wrugglesby, +the place to which the country clergymen and gentlemen-farmers +of the surrounding districts sent their +daughters. The boarders were so many then that it +had been necessary to have a <i>mademoiselle</i> and a +visiting English governess. That was some time +ago, but even when Theresa first began to help with +the teaching, things were more prosperous than they +were now. Gradually they had changed; times had +changed, boarders had fallen off one by one, new +ones did not come; girls went further now,—to +Brighton, to Bournemouth, even to France and +Germany. Mademoiselle left, and it hardly seemed +necessary to fill her place, for Theresa was a very +good French scholar. The English governess married, +and Bella was found equal to doing all that was left +of her work. Then, rather more than a year ago, +Theresa married, and though Miss Brownlow talked +of finding some nice well-educated girl to fill her +place, nothing came of it. Theresa used to take the +elder girls, and they were so few now that Bella +could quite well help Miss Brownlow with them, +especially as she was rather clever; she had passed +the Cambridge Local Examination and attended +some history lectures. Polly, of course, still taught +the little ones; she always had done so, and had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>always contrived to drill a certain amount of information +into them. It is to be feared that she did +not know very much herself; even Miss Brownlow +was obliged to admit that; yet she possessed a far +greater faculty for teaching than did the more accomplished +Bella. As the school was chiefly composed of +little girls, it really was important that they should be +well taught. Sometimes Miss Brownlow felt a passing +regret when she saw them struggling for their overshoes +in the lobby; they were not what her old +pupils had been, not of the same social position, not +of the same age; most of them were “reductions” +on account of sisters past, present, or to come; none +of them were likely to remain any length of time, +none of them were even weekly boarders. There +were only two boarders besides Wilhelmina, who +could hardly be counted since she belonged to the +household.</p> + +<p>Miss Wilson, the principal of the High School +two stations up the line, thought of Miss Brownlow +when, in her able paper on the education of girls, +she had written of teachers of the past. Miss +Brownlow was of the past, not highly educated, not +clever, but kindly, simple, pleasant, well loved by +those pupils of long ago, a gentle power for good in +those past best days,—and in the present? Ah, well, +the school was going; there were no boarders to be +influenced one way or the other now, and the little +girls who came daily did not trouble about Miss +Brownlow. She was of a race of schoolmistresses +fast disappearing from the earth, vanishing under the +inexorable law of the survival of the fittest. She was +not the fittest. Inefficient? Yes, that was it; inefficient +for modern needs, modern wants; growing +old, just a little past the work she once did, not at all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span>fit for the work now to be done; never a very wise +woman, thank God, not wise enough to know that +she was a failure.</p> + +<p>“Wilhelmina will teach somewhere else,” Miss +Brownlow said, after she had mentally reviewed the +prospect called up by Bella’s words; and mercifully +the prospect she reviewed was not quite that which +other people saw.</p> + +<p>“Where?” Polly asked casually, as if the matter +were of small moment.</p> + +<p>Miss Brownlow did not know. She had not +thought, and the question was embarrassing.</p> + +<p>Bella came to the rescue. “Mrs. Caxton will +want a governess if her little girls are leaving at +Easter. They are leaving because they always catch +colds from the other children, so she is sure to want +a governess.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course,” Miss Brownlow said enthusiastically; +“it would be the very thing for Bill; she +never has a cold.”</p> + +<p>“H’m! What is she to teach? How not to +catch cold? It is about the only thing she knows, +and she does that by accident.”</p> + +<p>“They are so young,” Miss Brownlow went on, +delighted with the plan and regardless of Polly’s +interruption; “they will only want elementary +teaching, reading and writing and spelling.”</p> + +<p>“Bill can’t spell, not that that matters so very +much though”—Polly perhaps knew by experience +that it was possible to teach a subject in which you +were not very deeply learned. “It certainly would not +matter to Bill, nothing would matter. If she could +spell every word in the dictionary, do you suppose +any one would have her for a governess?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why not,—when she is a little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>older of course. She is such a child yet; wait till +she is grown up.”</p> + +<p>“We have been waiting,” Polly observed grimly.</p> + +<p>“She is very young for her age; I am sure I don’t +know how it is.”</p> + +<p>“She was born without gumption,” said Polly +with conviction, “and she has never been able to +acquire any general knowledge.”</p> + +<p>“She is not clever,” Miss Brownlow admitted +sadly.</p> + +<p>“Cleverness has nothing to do with it,” Polly +retorted. “If you start in life lacking what Bill +lacks, you must do what you can with common-sense. +That will teach you a few things,—what not +to say, and how to say it, and—and all that. Bill +has no common-sense.”</p> + +<p>“We have always treated her like a child;” and +here Miss Brownlow sighed again.</p> + +<p>It was then that Theresa suggested that Bill should +come home with her to stay at Ashelton for a little +while. Miss Brownlow was delighted with the suggestion; +it was just the thing, she was sure. No +doubt the girl would develop; Theresa would use +her influence, and her young cousin had always been +so fond of her, had always respected and admired her +so much; such a visit would be the best possible +thing. Theresa herself did not anticipate very great +results, but she promised to do her best, and after +some discussion of details regarding the proposed +visit, Miss Brownlow returned to her accounts and +the sisters to the exercises, interrupted only now and +again by a repetition of the elder lady’s satisfaction +with the plan. After the third interruption Polly +yawned aggressively. When there was silence again +she bit her cotton and looked thoughtfully across at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>Miss Brownlow, at the kindly face, the thin hair, the +black stuff gown she knew so well. She did not +approve of the whole effect; she thought it “snuffy,” +and as such unlikely to create a favourable impression +on the parents of possible scholars. She looked +beyond Miss Brownlow to the wall behind,—to the +pale-toned paper with faint gold lines and fainter +grey flowers, to the old-fashioned water-colours in +shabby gilt frames, the white marble mantelpiece +with red glass candlesticks upon it, and to the +rosewood chairs covered with green rep, standing one +on either side of the fireplace. The room was no +more attractive than Miss Brownlow’s dress, she +thought; it was terribly old-fashioned in comparison +with Miss Wilson’s flatted walls and artistic green +cushions. Polly had a poor opinion of art-colours, +but she seriously considered the advisability of draping +some of the household gods with the best of the +shades of yellow. She was, in her own mind, +reckoning the quantity of material necessary, when +Miss Brownlow again broke in on her reflections.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure Robert won’t mind?” she asked +for the fourth time.</p> + +<p>“Quite sure,” was Theresa’s answer.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right; I should not like to put him +about at all. You are quite certain?”</p> + +<p>Theresa was quite certain, and the subject was +dismissed. Polly breathed a heavy sigh, and once +more fell back on her own thoughts. These now +turned from the art-materials to Robert Morton, +Theresa’s husband. Polly had not a very high +opinion of Robert Morton; she liked him well +enough, but considered him a bad speculation. +“He’ll die of apoplexy—poor Theresa—I’m sorry +for that poor girl. He’ll certainly die of it, and I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>expect he’ll die young.” So she had once said to the +indignant Bella, and she thought of the verdict again +this evening as she glanced at the sisters and mentally +dressed Theresa in widow’s weeds. She would make +a handsome widow, though perhaps not so effective as +Bella. Polly glanced meditatively at Bella; a widow’s +cap would look well on that golden head. Theresa +was darker and older too by nearly four years; she +would be twenty-six in the summer and she looked her +age; in fact, Theresa was almost too dignified. Bella +was not dignified, though she was tall. They were both +tall and graceful and clear-skinned; both had blue +eyes, Theresa’s grave and sweet, Bella’s holy, innocent, +suggesting a madonna’s eyes to the observer until he +became aware of the turned-up nose between; “a +flirt’s nose,” Polly called it. Theresa’s features were +better, though less attractive; she had not a flirt’s +nose, but also she had no tantalising dimple in her +chin. Still they were both undeniably beauties, and +Polly was nothing of the sort.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II.<br> +<small>BILL.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Theresa</span> and Bella Waring were beauties when they +came to Miss Brownlow’s seven years ago, well-educated, +well-informed, used to the ways of society +(of small professional society), and possessed of sixty +pounds a year between them. Their father had been +dead some years then; it was their mother’s death +which sent them and their sixty pounds to Langford +House. Theresa came to help with the teaching, +Bella to finish her education first, and afterwards to +fill her sister’s place. Of course Miss Brownlow +received them gladly, loved them warmly, mothered +them to the best of her ability. She would have done +that for any number of nieces, and she did it heartily +for these four. Polly felt angry as she thought of +their numbers, and thought contemptuously of the +Brownlow family and its faculty for dying. There +had been five Miss Brownlows originally; one died +young, three married first and then died at their +earliest convenience, leaving their children as a legacy +to the remaining sister who neither married nor died. +She, possessed of short views, a large heart, and an +inexhaustible supply of hope, welcomed them with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>open arms. Two of them she had to adopt entirely; +the other two, Theresa and Bella, came to her better +endowed, better equipped, and at a more convenient +age.</p> + +<p>And what had they done with their advantages? +Polly put the case to herself with contemptuous +irritation. Bella, so she summed it up, Bella at +twenty-two had done nothing; Theresa at twenty-six +had contrived to marry a small farmer. No doubt +his family had originally been good, but one cannot +live on a good family, especially if it is all but extinct; +and the goodness did not prevent Robert from being +a farmer in a small way, and an unsuccessful one too. +He was undoubtedly a poor speculation; his tastes +were expensive, his inclinations horsey, his income +small, his tendencies apoplectic; he would soon, no +doubt, die, and die suddenly, leaving Theresa no +better off than she was a year ago. Really these two +girls were stupid, as stupid as the Brownlow family. +And yet their mother had been the best of the five +sisters, according to all accounts; the strongest as +well as the prettiest, for she had managed to live to +quite a respectable age. Possibly her daughters were +like her; they were sensible enough for any ordinary +occasion but they were not, in Polly’s opinion, able to +take advantage of adverse circumstances. “They +would die off easily,” she thought, “and they haven’t +an idea between them worth mentioning.”</p> + +<p>Polly was not like the Brownlow family. She took +after her father, a dubious advantage, and she flattered +herself that she had ideas worth,—well, something, +although perhaps they were not always quite suitable +for public mention. She also had an easy conscience, +and in her youth some little acquaintance with social +byways. She had a tenacious hold on life, and was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>not likely to follow her mother’s and aunts’ example +and die easily. “So has Bill,” she thought; “she is +silly and she is ugly, but she won’t fade out of the +world in a hurry, though I can’t see what good she +will ever be in it.”</p> + +<p>This last sentiment found something like an echo, +albeit unexpressed, in the minds of two other inmates +of Langford House, the two boarders Carrie and +Alice. They were quiet, inoffensive girls, a year or +two younger than Bill, and forced by circumstances +to have more of her company than they desired. +The greater part of the day the three were together, +and for the night they shared one room so that the +sisters’ nocturnal confidences had to be held in +common with their companion. It must be admitted +that Carrie and Alice did not altogether like +Bill, though they felt a sort of superior pity for +her which was not all unpleasant. On the evening +when Miss Brownlow and her nieces were +planning Bill’s future good, Carrie and Alice were +giving her a little advice while going to bed. It was +on the subject of hairdressing, Carrie thinking it was +time Bill coiled her hair on the top of her head.</p> + +<p>“It’s quite time,” she concluded. “Are you going +to wait till you are eighteen? When are you going +to do it up?”</p> + +<p>Bill considered: “To-morrow,” she said at last.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow?” Carrie repeated, and Alice added: +“You can’t, you haven’t got any hairpins.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll get some of Bella’s.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t,” Carrie said again, and turning to the +glass began to arrange her own hair.</p> + +<p>“Miss Waring has gold-coloured hairpins,” Alice +remarked; “you could not use them.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>“Because it would look horrid to have brass hairpins +sticking out of your hair.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” Bill did not seem impressed.</p> + +<p>Carrie turned away from the glass. “That is how +I shall do my hair,” she said. “I shall do it up the +day I leave school, the very day.”</p> + +<p>“I like plaits better,” Alice observed; but Bill +examined the head-dress thoughtfully, and then +asked: “And what else will you do when you leave +school,—besides your hair, I mean?”</p> + +<p>“Besides my hair? How ridiculous you are!” +Carrie did not seem displeased by the question. She +condescended to answer it rather fully, and as she +took off her shoes and stockings talked of the possibilities +of evening parties, the certainty of afternoon +calls, the charms of long dresses, and of the young +men who stayed at the Rectory. Alice joined in +this explanation, and in fact the sisters were soon +talking to and for each other only, having almost +forgotten Bill’s presence until she exclaimed suddenly: +“Men! It’s all men! Why are they nicer +than women?”</p> + +<p>She was sitting on her pillow in her favourite +position, her knees drawn up, her elbows resting +upon them, and her chin framed in her hands; she +was looking straight in front of her and only turned +her eyes on the sisters when she spoke. They objected +to her method of looking round without +turning her head; that, in addition to the impropriety +of the remark, made Carrie answer severely: +“Men are not nicer than women; nobody thinks so +except those who are fast.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they are nicer. You think so, Polly thinks +so, Bella thinks so, every girl thinks so, though I +don’t see why.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>“You don’t know any men”; this was said with +great contempt.</p> + +<p>“No, nor any girls either, except you two, and +you are nice!” Bill had an enormous mouth and +the beginning of a smile curved it as she spoke.</p> + +<p>“Then it is more than you are,” Alice retorted +with irritation, “or you would not talk about men +like that.”</p> + +<p>“Men aren’t half so amusing as women,” Bill +went on, ignoring the last speech; “and women +aren’t half so amusing when men are there. I can’t +see where the attraction comes in with any of them—the +rector, the curates, the masters at the grammar-school, +Robert Morton, any of them.”</p> + +<p>“Of course they don’t take any notice of you,” +Carrie said, and Alice added: “You only think +about people being amusing; you like people whom +you can imitate.”</p> + +<p>“That’s why I like you,” Bill said sweetly. +“Why do you like people—men?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like men; you have never heard me +speak of them!”</p> + +<p>“Heard!” Bill laughed. “I have felt; I have +felt you crinkle up for a boy!”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t! How dare you say such things!”</p> + +<p>“Why not? Where is the harm? You talk +about men to each other, why not to me? You +never have before, but I see no reason why you +should not. Do you consider it wrong to like men? +How queer it is; you all like men and you all +pretend you do not. There is a deal of humbug +about it.”</p> + +<p>“Some people,” Carrie said with severity, “have a +sense of decency.”</p> + +<p>“A sense of decency? That’s what Adam and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span>Eve had when they hid themselves; a sense of +decency often seems to mean hiding something.”</p> + +<p>“You are very wicked!” Alice said scandalised, +and would have nothing more to say to Bill for some +time, though after the light was out and all three +were in bed the sisters continued to talk to each other +about the wonderful future, the first ball Carrie +would attend, and the events that would follow.</p> + +<p>“And after that,” came the voice from Bill’s bed,—“what +are you going to do after that?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Carrie answered; “marry I +suppose. There is a use for your despised men; +you can’t marry without them.”</p> + +<p>“Marry—h’m!—Yes, I expect you will marry.”</p> + +<p>“Do you really think so? I don’t know—and +yet,—yes, I suppose I should rather like to; not yet +of course, but by and by, to marry and to have +several children.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you are sure to; you are like the old white +hen with feathers down her legs; you would make a +splendid sitter.”</p> + +<p>“Bill!”</p> + +<p>“Now what’s the matter? Is it the sense of +decency again?”</p> + +<p>But the sisters would not answer her question and, +having told her so, went on to say that, as it was +forbidden to talk after the light was out, they were +not going to do it any more, especially to her. Then +they went to sleep, leaving Bill to her own reflections. +She, thus left, rolled over on her back and lay staring +up into the darkness above her and thinking. At +her age one does not always think with a definite +coherent clearness; dreaming is more to the mind of +seventeen. Bill dreamed, fancies and thoughts flitting +to and fro in her mind.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>About marriage, for instance; last year Theresa +had tried the great experiment to which Carrie looked +forward. Carrie would try it by and by; she would +become Mrs. Somebody and grow staid and stout +and placid; she would talk about “my house” and +“my husband”; she would bound the universe, +almost the Kingdom of Heaven by those two; she +would wear a black silk dress and a heavy gold chain +like Mrs. Bodling; she would get fatter and fairer +and calmer; she would entirely lose sight of her +feet——</p> + +<p>Bill stretched out her own feet, and then lay still +to listen. The wind crept in at the open window +and stirred the curtains; the cloth on the toilet-table +flapped idly, reminding her of quiet, slumberous +summer afternoons, of a certain Thursday afternoon +in June especially,—it was in June that Theresa had +entered on the great experiment. In the first freshness +of early summer she left the school and the old +routine-work and the narrow, cosy, feminine life and +went out to try a wider, fuller, new life. She was to +have a house of her own and a servant; there had +been a lot of talk about the house (here Bill built an +ideal house for herself), a lot of things to be bought, +a lot of new clothes for Theresa. Miss Brownlow +and the girls had pinched and scraped and worked; +Bill had been allowed to help a little, though her +work was more strong than neat. Evening after +evening Bella and Polly and Theresa had sat at work +with Miss Brownlow—how they seemed to enjoy it! +Theresa must have missed that when she went to her +new home; Bill wondered what she did during those +first evenings of the new life. Then the great day +had come; Bill recalled every detail of it. There +had been excitement and bustle and people and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>flowers, Theresa in her bridal gown, and everywhere +the scent of the little white roses—the white roses +which made Bill think of funerals, though she did +not know why.</p> + +<p>Then Theresa had gone away. She kissed them +all and cried, and smiled and cried again, and went. +Robert Morton looked rather cross during the kissing +and crying, but nobody seemed to mind. They +were quite sure Theresa was happy, quite sure she +had attained to all that she desired; only Bill +thought she must be very lonely. She had also an +inward conviction, founded on nothing, that Theresa +would be desperately disappointed in her venture. +There was no reason for these thoughts, and Theresa +had said nothing to suggest them; she seemed happy, +and they all thought her so except Bill, and Bill was +so childish that she could not be expected to know +anything about the matter. She had only once been +to Theresa’s home at Ashelton. They had all driven +there one September day and enjoyed it greatly. Bill +could recall every detail of the expedition, her memory +was vivid and her experiences few. She had never +been again to Ashelton; she had never been on a +visit—</p> + +<p>She was growing very sleepy now, and her thoughts +became confused with the words of the cousins who +were speaking just outside the door.</p> + +<p>“I shall be very glad to have her.”</p> + +<p>“You will be more glad to be rid of her; besides, +she has no clothes.”</p> + +<p>At the Day of Judgment Polly would still be considering +her clothes—she would probably want to +let out her garment of righteousness if—but sleep +mastered Bill here.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III.<br> +<small>ROBERT MORTON.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was September,—rich September, with warm lights +and red shadows—when Bill went first to Haylands, +Robert Morton’s farm. It was March when +she went again; a grey afternoon, level light, and +dead stillness over the bare ploughed land and the +low white house. She drove from Wrugglesby with +Theresa, a tedious drive along winding lanes,—not +that she found it tedious, for nothing was tedious to +Bill. Theresa, too, had enjoyed her homeward +journey more than usual. She had talked gaily all +the way until they turned in at her own gateway; +then somehow her spirits flagged, and in silence they +drove up the long chase which meandered across a +grassy field, passed a duck-pond where grey geese +waded, and so on to the little gate which shut in the +overgrown garden. Bill looked quickly at the +garden. It had been a flowery, weedy wilderness +when she was there in September; it was bare now, +so dry that the earth rose in dust at the touch of +Theresa’s skirts, so bare that the leafless raspberry-canes, +still though they were, seemed to shiver in +their nakedness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>There was no one about; Robert, no doubt, was +busy somewhere on the farm. For a moment +Theresa hesitated with the reins in her hand, then +a man appeared from the stables and took the pony +away. Theresa led the way into the house, covertly +casting an anxious glance at Bill.</p> + +<p>“It is very cold,” she said, as she pushed open the +door of her favourite room and went to the fire.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose it is,” Bill answered cheerfully. +“I’m not cold though. What a jolly room! It is +cubby, T.!”</p> + +<p>“Do you like it? You saw it when you were +here before,” Theresa said, feeling somehow a little +warmer and very glad that Bill was with her. If it had +been Polly or Bella they might have thought Robert +neglectful, but as it was only Bill it did not matter.</p> + +<p>By-and-bye Robert came in. He did not know +that Bill was coming back with his wife, and when +the guest was safely shut in her room he asked, +“Why on earth did you bring her?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mind?” Theresa asked in distress. “I +am sorry; I did not think you would mind; she +won’t trouble you much.”</p> + +<p>“No, she won’t trouble me; still I don’t see what +you wanted to have her for.”</p> + +<p>“We thought—I thought, it might do her good.”</p> + +<p>“Ill?” Morton asked, looking up sharply. “If +she is ill, we certainly don’t want her here.”</p> + +<p>“She is not ill. She does not get on very well at +school; I mean—” Theresa felt the matter was +difficult of explanation—“I mean, she is very young +for her age.”</p> + +<p>“She is very ugly,” Morton said, beginning to +unlace his boots.</p> + +<p>Theresa flushed. “She is my cousin,” she said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>“That don’t make her handsome, my dear,” he +observed, without looking up.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think her at all ugly.” Theresa’s voice +showed that she was hurt. “If she were, it would +not be her fault. Do you wish me to send her home +at the end of the week?”</p> + +<p>“I? No, please yourself as to that. Keep her as +long as you like, as far as I am concerned.”</p> + +<p>And he left her to take his boots to the wash-house +with no idea that there were tears in her eyes. She +forced them back, turning to the fire as she did so. +It was certainly cold, a dreary, dreary afternoon. She +was still standing by the fire, standing stiffly with +something of unapproachable dignity about her, when +Bill came down a few minutes later; but Bill was not +troubled by the dignity, and curled herself up in the +big chair on the other side of the fire evidently quite +satisfied. She spent the evening helping Robert to +mend whips, quite satisfied with that too; possibly +she found it an improvement on learning grammar +with Carrie and Alice.</p> + +<p>Theresa was relieved to find that Bill and Robert +showed so much inclination to friendliness; indeed, +at the end of two days she came to the conclusion +that they were better friends than ever Robert and +Bella had been. It was a very good thing, she +thought, as she watched Bill wandering about the +cow-yard and investigating the pig-styes. Bill took +the keenest interest in pigs and poultry, cows and +butter; her interest extended to the dairy, the kitchen, +and the store-room; she seemed anxious to do any +work she could. Theresa gave her dusting and +churning, and she worked with a will, though when +the churning was done Theresa was rather horrified +to find her young cousin scrubbing the dairy-floor.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>“Bill! What are you doing?”</p> + +<p>“Clearing up,—I upset some butter-milk.” Bill +was kneeling on the bricks and she did not cease +scrubbing to give the answer.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear child, there is no necessity,—get +up.”</p> + +<p>“I like it, I like clearing up. I did the old fowls’ +house just before I came in here; you should see it; +it’s beautifully clean. This afternoon I am going to +lime-wash it, and then I shall put in the biggest +family of chickens. They have not half enough +room where they are; Robert said I might move +them if I liked.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but,—surely you need not lime-wash the +house yourself; one of the men can do it. You must +not do it; you will make yourself in such a state.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid I am rather a dirty worker.”</p> + +<p>Theresa glanced at Bill’s present condition and saw +that the statement was only too true. “You must +leave off,” she said: “the soapsuds are all up your +sleeves; besides, I want to speak to you.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I can hear; you sit down on that +wooden tub; I’m just done, and I can finish while +you are talking.”</p> + +<p>Theresa sat down in spite of her protestations. “I +want to talk to you about the prayer-meeting,” she +said. “You know, during Lent Mr. Johnson holds +meetings once a week, a kind of Bible-reading. We +meet at different houses and read passages from the +Bible, and he explains them and gives a little address. +They are really rather nice, and not too long. We +meet at seven and it is all over quite early; we usually +have supper about half-past eight.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” Bill was working industriously at the +last corner.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>“I meant—do you think you would care to go?” +Theresa asked this somewhat doubtfully. Bella and +Polly had been amused by the idea of the Ashelton +prayer-meetings, and Bill, according to Polly’s account, +was not likely to treat them more respectfully. However, +to Theresa’s satisfaction, Bill answered with enthusiasm: +“I should like it tremendously; is it +to-night?”</p> + +<p>“No, to-morrow. To-day is market-day at +Wrugglesby, you know; nothing here is ever fixed +on a market-day.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” Bill said, taking up her pail of water; +“then it’s to-morrow? I’ll come if you will take +me,” and she went away to empty the pail.</p> + +<p>Theresa watched her go, and then went into the +house feeling that her guest was easy to entertain, +and gave really very little trouble, in spite of Polly’s +prognostications. Indeed she had been very glad of +her company ever since her arrival, and especially so +to-day as Robert had gone to market and was not +likely to be back till late. The day seemed all the +shorter for the girl’s presence in the house. The +weather was gray and cloudy, and Theresa had a +headache; she was very glad Bill was with her in the +afternoon. Later on, in the evening, when her headache +became bad, she was persuaded by her young +cousin to go to bed and leave her to wait for Robert.</p> + +<p>“I hardly like to go; you don’t think it will +seem unkind?” Theresa offered this last protest +standing by the door, her candle in her hand.</p> + +<p>“No, of course not, I’ll explain.”</p> + +<p>Bill somehow knew, though Theresa did not, that +Robert did not view things in the same light as his +wife did; so she persuaded her to go to bed and +settled herself by the fire until the servant was ready +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span>to go up-stairs. After that she went round the house +and fastened the doors, standing a moment in the +hall curiously impressed by the silence of the place. +“I have never been up alone in a sleeping house +before,” she meditated as she put out the light and +stretched out her hands in the darkness as if to feel +to the full the sense of solitary night. At that +moment she remembered that she had fastened the +back door which Theresa had told her particularly +to leave unlocked, as Robert always let himself in +that way.</p> + +<p>She went back and unfastened it, turned the handle +to see if it were really unbolted, and stood a moment +looking out. The night-breeze stirred her hair; the +moist fragrance of the earth came to her; she drew +her breath in deeply, slowly, turning her head from +side to side, listening to the intense stillness; it +seemed to her that she could almost hear things +growing. Her heart began to beat faster; the blood +in her veins stirred in unison with the moving sap in +the hidden trees; some wild creature of the woods +was waking in her, bidding her go forth into the +darkness. A board creaked; it was only the timbers +settling down for the night, but it recalled her to the +house and to her task of waiting for its master’s +return. With a last glance at the cloudy sky, she +went in and shut the door.</p> + +<p>There was another that night who found it dark, +so dark that more than once he missed his way in +the deep lanes which lay between Sales Green and +Ashelton. More than once he anathematised the +business which led him to come home from Wrugglesby +market by way of the little village; the cross-roads +were intricate and in bad repair, and under the +darkness of the trees it was impossible to see so much +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>as the hedgerow elms on either side. At last he +heard the sound of wheels away on the left; he was +clear of the lanes and out on the high road now; just +as he emerged a vehicle without lights passed, or +rather, nearly collided with him.</p> + +<p>He pulled his horse up and demanded angrily: +“Where the devil are you going? If you want the +whole road you might at least carry lights so that +one can see what you are doing!”</p> + +<p>“Where—going ’self?” a thick voice retorted. +“Damn your clumsiness! Wha’—what ’yer mean +by running a man down li’ that!”</p> + +<p>“Where are you trying to go?” The man was +evidently too drunk to be argued with.</p> + +<p>“Home;—that’sh if—if can get there. Brute +pulls li’—like the devil.”</p> + +<p>“You had better let me drive you home, Morton—it +is Morton? I expect I can see better in the +dark than you can.”</p> + +<p>Morton raised no objection and the other dismounted +as he spoke and climbed up beside him. +“Pleashed, I’m sure,” Robert muttered. “Been to +market? Oh, forgot,—saw you there myself, but +you lef’ early; very cred’able, Mr. Harborough, you’ +shober young man.”</p> + +<p>He laughed in a maudlin way, and they started on +a straight course in the darkness, Harborough’s +horse, fastened by the bridle, trotting behind. A +straight road lay before them, the ground rising +clear from the shade of the trees, just showing paler +against the blackness, then sloping gently downwards +to deeper shadow until the turning by the village; +there the road forked, now to the left, through the +open gateway, up the chase, and so to the stables and +home.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>“Come on, ol’ chap, come in and have a—a glass +of whishky,—don’t b’ unsociable.”</p> + +<p>Harborough hesitated and thought of Mrs. Morton. +He glanced up at the house; there was a light in +one of the lower windows, the rest were dark—was +she sitting up for her husband? He thought of the +young wife with her serene, unconscious face, waiting +for this, and yielding to the affectionate pressure on +his arm he went in.</p> + +<p>“There does not seem to be any one up,” he said, +as he opened the door and paused on the threshold.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, sure to be, sure—confound—”</p> + +<p>As Morton stumbled, Harborough held him up, +and then stood listening a moment. The house was +very quiet except for the chirping of crickets in the +kitchen. Guided more by instinct than by his companion +he made his way to Mrs. Morton’s favourite +sitting-room and opened the door, expecting yet +dreading to meet the sweet face of the young wife. +But she was not there; involuntarily he breathed a +sigh of relief and braced himself to face her substitute. +There was a substitute, someone curled up in the big +chair by the fire, a slim young girl. She had been +reading, and apparently had but just discovered their +presence in the house, for she only looked up from +her book as they entered.</p> + +<p>“Theresa has gone to bed,” she said, rising as she +spoke. She did not seem at all surprised to see them +both. Harborough wondered if she understood, or +if Morton returned in this condition so often that +she was prepared for it. “Poor Theresa’s head was +so bad that I persuaded her to go, and to let me sit +up,” she added.</p> + +<p>“That ’ch al’right, you’n I—quite happy without +her,” Morton said thickly, smiling upon the girl.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>“You won’t want to disturb her to-night,” she +went on. “Her head is ever so bad; you will sleep +in the blue room, won’t you? That will do nicely.”</p> + +<p>“That’ll do—we won’t dish’turb her, poor—poor +T.”</p> + +<p>“Is the room ready?” Harborough asked quickly.</p> + +<p>She shook her head, and flitted away with light +noiseless feet. Morton stretched out a hand to +detain her, but she passed him like a shadow and was +gone.</p> + +<p>“Make her sing when ’comes back—sing to you,—cap’tal +song.”</p> + +<p>Harborough turned away abruptly. Evidently she +had not expected this sort of home-coming, or surely +the room would have been ready. Probably it had +not occurred before, to Mrs. Morton’s knowledge at +least; if it had, she would never have left this child +to face it alone; for a child she was, fifteen, sixteen +perhaps, but a child certainly. A great anger rose in +Harborough’s heart against the man who had brought +his beastliness home here. He glanced round the +room, which impressed him as daintily feminine, +doubtless arranged by the bride nine months ago. +Her work-basket stood on the table, a few spring +flowers were on the mantelpiece; the whole place was +pathetically eloquent of her presence. Harborough +picked up a book which lay on the table and looked +at the title—<span class="smcap">Romances and Drolls of the West +of England</span>—an old book of West Country legends +and folk-lore, fairy tales of a primitive order, the +book that the girl, who had just left the room, had +been reading. Pleasant to call a child from her fairy-stories +to meet a drunkard!</p> + +<p>“Now come to bed.” She had returned as noiselessly +as she had gone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>“Bed? Not ’f I know it!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, come along.”</p> + +<p>“I will see Mr. Morton to bed,” Harborough +said. “Which is the room? No, tell me, don’t +trouble to come.”</p> + +<p>“Second door from the top of the stairs,” was the +direction she gave, and Harborough, coercing his +charge, went up-stairs. With the door safely shut +on them he used more force than persuasion, feeling +heartily sick of the whole business. When he came +down again the girl was in her old position, reading +her fairy-book as before.</p> + +<p>“Is he in bed?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes. Are you alone here—I mean, are you +going to shut the house up?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, all that is still open. I must, you see, there +is no one else. You can’t do it when you are outside, +and you won’t want to stop in to do it; it is +not difficult.”</p> + +<p>“No. You are rather young to be left alone—I +won’t keep you up; good-night.”</p> + +<p>She went to the door with him, the one opening +on to the yard by which he and Morton had entered +a little while before. On the step he hesitated; he +was standing in shadow, she in the light of the lantern +she had brought that she might see to fasten the +door after him.</p> + +<p>“If I were you,” he said doubtfully, “I should +not disturb Mr. Morton more than I could help. I +would not pass his room unless it were necessary.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, after he had gone she stole noiselessly +to the door and turned the key outside for fear +the sleeper should awake and disturb Theresa in the +night. But then that was quite necessary in her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>opinion, and no one was the wiser, for she unlocked +it again between four and five in the morning.</p> + +<p>As for Harborough, having given the caution, he +felt satisfied and after repeating “good-night” went +down the yard. He looked back once before she +closed the door. She was still standing in the same +position, the lantern in her hand, an elfin thing in its +glow against the brown shadows of the passage, +herself all brown and red, skin and hair and eyes, +colours such as Rembrandt loved. She moved, +scattering splashes of light from her lantern, then +shut the door; and Harborough mounted his horse +and rode a good mile home to Crows’ Farm.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV.<br> +<small>HARBOROUGH OF CROWS’ FARM.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nobody</span> could make farming pay, at least no one +about Wrugglesby. This was an axiom in the +Ashelton district, which no one attempted to confute +though each had an explanation for it, according to +his political opinions and education, or want of +education. But one and all believed it, though they +continued to farm and to grumble, both the small +men and the great. The small men were very +small, little more than peasant tenants with neither +the capital nor the ability to farm their small holdings +with any show of justice to the starved land, living +from hand to mouth, employing no labour, themselves +and their families practically doing the work, +and doing it indifferently. The great men were +quite another class, a cross between a landed gentry +and a yeoman squirearchy, socially ranking with the +professional classes and for all practical purposes +supplying the place of the county-families, now for +the most part either impoverished or else removed to +more congenial centres. The greater farm-owners +undoubtedly did make some profit out of the land, +or appeared to do something very like it, though +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>possibly they might have done so more successfully +had they inclined more towards the yeoman squirearchy +and less towards the landed gentry in their +tastes and habits.</p> + +<p>At least such was the opinion of one who, a little +more than six months previous to Bill’s advent in the +Morton household, had come to settle among the +yeoman-farmers and to prove to himself and to them +some of the theories he held with regard to farming. +His theory-in-chief was a short one, and could be +summed up in one word,—work. A working farmer +could make it pay; there were one or two of the +old-fashioned sort of large working farmers still left, +who made it pay, even though they had no social +position and wanted none. Their net profits were +small, it is true, but then they had not the benefit of +a modern education; they were also abnormally pig-headed, +and, in spite of experience, would do as +their fathers had done in the palmy days of Protection. +Young Gilchrist Harborough was of opinion +that, were it only possible to unite the work in +detail of these men with the knowledge and capital +of the gentleman-class, results of surprising grandeur +could be obtained.</p> + +<p>He held this theory long ago, before ever he saw +the English farmer at work; he held it still more +firmly now that fate had given him an opportunity of +putting it to the test. The opportunity had come +unexpectedly in the shape of a legacy from a friend +of his father’s, a man who had at one time stayed in +the bush home where Gilchrist was reared, and who, +half amused and half pleased by the young man’s +earnestness, had left him Crows’ Farm and a +sufficiency on which to try his theories on a small +scale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span>An unpretentious, whitewashed building was the +farm, not unlike two cottages knocked into one. +For many years it had been inhabited by a bailiff who +farmed the adjoining land, the owner, frequently +absent abroad, only coming down for the partridge-shooting. +Ashelton was fond of this man, and +genuinely sorry to hear of his death; he was the +kind of man those good folks understood, and was +sadly missed at the social functions which always +took place in September and in which he usually +joined. But the new owner, the young Australian +to whom he had left the farm, was something of a +puzzle to them. Of course he had a right to his +theories: everyone has in these highly educated +days; but it is not everyone who tries to put his +theories into practice, nor who, moreover, has such +uncomfortable ones. Harborough lived the life of +a working farmer in his little old house; lived, so +report said, almost like Robinson Crusoe, doing his +own cooking and cleaning, rising early and sharing +even the most menial toil with his few labourers. +This was not all strictly correct, but it was near +enough to the truth to satisfy Ashelton, and the parish +talked and wondered, and said dubiously that the +experiment might answer, questioning for a while +how Mr. Harborough would be received. But in +the winter the question was settled by Mrs. Dawson, +who, perhaps, alone was capable of settling it finally. +She, under the influence of her son Jack, decided +that Mr. Harborough was as one of themselves, +notwithstanding his theory and his colonial origin,—a +decision which scarcely did justice to Harborough, +but gave great satisfaction to everyone, even including +Mr. Dane, the old rector. He, indeed, had seemed +particularly to appreciate it, and had even listened to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>Mrs. Dawson’s judgment on the case with a faint +smile flickering in his grey eyes. It is true he made +Harborough’s acquaintance without waiting for Mrs. +Dawson’s decision, but then, as she said, the rector, +of course, knew everybody. Mr. Johnson, the curate, +being only a curate, had waited for her decision.</p> + +<p>But none of these matters troubled Harborough. +He lived his life in his own way, working hard as +long as he was able, smoking hard when work was +done; reading sometimes, and the books had nothing +to do with the theory, neither were they such as Jack +Dawson would have chosen; dreaming sometimes in +spite of the theory, in spite also of the pure reason +with which he was still young enough to believe he +governed his life. Of his neighbours he thought +little; he was friendly when he came across them, +but with the friendliness of the self-contained man +who regards the rest of his kind as supernumeraries, +necessary parts of the world-play, but as well filled +by one set of actors as by another. He knew about +his neighbours, of course, since he could not well +live in Ashelton without doing so; but he did not +care greatly about them, nor was there any reason to +care; nothing to his knowledge had gone seriously +wrong or seriously right in Ashelton until that night +when he took Robert Morton home.</p> + +<p>That night there had been something seriously +wrong, and the more he thought about Morton, the +more wrong the whole matter seemed. Drunkenness +looked such a beastly thing in this quiet little +village, in that peaceful home with that fair young +wife. “The man’s a brute,” was his disgusted +verdict, “coming home to a wife like that! Lucky +it wasn’t her. By the way, I wonder who the girl +was, queer little thing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>But he did not wonder very much, for he was too +sleepy that night and too busy the next day till the +time when the girl revealed her identity to him. It +was somewhere about noon when he saw her, as he +was returning by a lane which bordered one side of +the Haylands property. He had been that way once +before during the morning, but was not aware that +anyone had been watching him. As he came back, +however, he met the girl of last night’s adventure +evidently waiting for his return. The Morton’s +orchard was here; an untidy orchard, with old +stooping apple-trees, lichen-covered and unpruned, +a thicket of nuts and pollard quinces and, beyond, a +briery tangle of blackberries. As yet there was +neither flower nor leaf, except for one plum-tree near +the gate white as snow in its blossom.</p> + +<p>It was in the orchard that Harborough saw the girl. +She was sitting on the gate deliberately waiting for him, +and when he came in sight she made the fact known.</p> + +<p>“I want to speak to you,” she announced. “I +have been waiting ever so long.”</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” he answered, in some surprise; +“now I have come, what can I do for you?”</p> + +<p>“It is about Robert, Robert Morton—is he often +drunk?”</p> + +<p>If Harborough had any delusions as to her not +grasping the situation last night, they were now +dispelled. “I don’t know,” he said; “I have never +seen him so before.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think he often is?”</p> + +<p>“I really cannot tell you; I am only very slightly +acquainted with him.”</p> + +<p>A little smile crept round the corners of the +girl’s mouth. “I didn’t suppose you were great +friends,” she said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>Harborough bit his lip. His tone had not implied +it, yet he was conscious that there had been +a slight feeling of annoyance at the suggestion of +intimacy conveyed by her words; there was now +a second feeling of annoyance that she should have +discovered the first.</p> + +<p>“I am a comparatively new comer in the place,” +he said somewhat stiffly; “you would perhaps do +better to ask someone who has lived here longer.”</p> + +<p>“Umph!” As she made the oracular answer she +drew her legs up to the top bar of the gate and +clasped her hands round them in a position Harborough +considered most unsafe. As he watched +her, fascinated, wondering which way she would fall, +she turned a little towards him.</p> + +<p>“Take care!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Theresa does not know,” she said, answering her +own thoughts. “She has no idea; but she will, you +know.”</p> + +<p>Harborough thought it possible, but he only said: +“I suppose her husband told her he did not wish to +disturb her last night?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then I do not see how she is to know, if you +do not tell her.”</p> + +<p>“No, not this time; but next,—I may not be here +then.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know there will be a next time?” +he asked. “You have no reason to suppose this +was anything but,—but an accident which might +happen to any of us.”</p> + +<p>“You, for instance?”</p> + +<p>Her blandly innocent eyes were turned on him. +“Any man,” he answered briefly. The eyes showed +neither surprise nor disgust; in fact they did not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>seem much convinced, and he went on. “There is +no reason to say it must occur again; why do you?”</p> + +<p>“Why do <i>you</i>?”</p> + +<p>“I do not,” he answered; “I should be very +sorry to give such a definite opinion on the subject.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” she replied cheerfully, “that is the +difference between us. I give the opinions, you only +have them, but we mean the same thing.”</p> + +<p>“I have not formed any opinion.”</p> + +<p>“No, but you know him,—not very well, I dare +say,—but you know other men. I don’t know him +very well either, better than you do, of course, but +not well. I came here on Tuesday, and to-day is +Friday; before that I don’t think I saw him more +than six times; but, all the same, I know he will get +drunk again.”</p> + +<p>“Pray, did you expect him to be drunk last +night?” Harborough asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” she answered; “I had never thought about +it. Until I saw him last night I never thought about +his drinking; now, of course, I know.”</p> + +<p>“I must say you took it very coolly,” he observed, +“that is, if it was a revelation to you.”</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders, till he thought she +must inevitably fall off the gate; she did not, but +turned to him, asking, “What would you have had +me do?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing different from what you did. I meant +that you did not seem at all upset.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think I can be upset easily.” He +unconsciously looked at the squirrel-like perch on +the gate. “You see,” she went on, “there was a +good deal to be done till you went; after that I +thought.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” He wondered what she thought, what +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>sort of brain she had under that thatch of copper-brown +hair.</p> + +<p>“It is about Theresa,” she went on to explain; +“she does not know, and she must sooner or later; +he is bound to let it out some time. He may have +got drunk and hidden it in the past: he may do so +in the future; but sooner or later there will come +another time like last night, and she will find out.”</p> + +<p>He drove his stick into the ground thoughtfully. +“Well,” he said at last, “if this is all as inevitable as +you say, if this takes place, I suppose Mrs. Morton +will have to bear it, as other women have borne it +before. There is nothing else for it; we can’t help +her; she will just have to bear it.”</p> + +<p>Harborough felt this was cold comfort. It was +easy talking out here in the spring sunshine, easy +adjusting the burden to the accompaniment of the +thrushes’ love-songs; but to bear it was another +matter, and the girl evidently thought so.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know Theresa,” she said. “She just +can’t bear it; I think it would kill her.”</p> + +<p>Harborough repressed a smile. “I don’t think it +would do anything of the kind,” he said, from his +wider knowledge of mankind. “Mrs. Morton by +this time knows, what you, too, will find out some +day, that the world is peopled with men not heroes, +and that you must take men, even husbands, as you +find them, and not despair and die because they are +not heroes of romance.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what Theresa has not found out,” +Theresa’s cousin persisted, “at least not properly. +She and Robert don’t quite understand one another, +I’m afraid. It’s an awful pity for people to get +married; they can’t really know one another unless +they have lived together for a long time first. You +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>see, T. has lived such a different life. It was a kind +of she-life, quiet and dainty and small, and nice as +nice could be,—weak tea in old china and wash the +cups up carefully afterwards—that is how we lived. +The pity is she married Robert; it might have +answered if she had married some other man, better, +perhaps, or more,—more watered down, or something; +I don’t know how to say it, but you understand +how it is. They just belong to different kinds +of people.”</p> + +<p>Harborough leaned against the gate-post, the one +opposite to the end of the gate on which the girl sat; +he was careful not to give her the least jar as he considered +the connubial problem presented to him. +“Of course you think Morton is to blame,” he said +at last. “You would blame him far more than your +sister—cousin is it?—your cousin then. He is, I +suppose, a low hound, drunken and all the rest of +it?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” she answered slowly, “it isn’t so much +that; he has his good points of course, though I +don’t altogether like him. It isn’t exactly a case of +right and wrong; it’s how the thing seems to the +other person, and it’ll seem bad to T. For myself, I +don’t think I should like getting drunk, but I don’t +so much mind about things; I can understand how +it is in a way, and besides, it is not such a sin to his +nature; it isn’t nice, but it is all of a piece with +himself.”</p> + +<p>Harborough nodded. “That’s so,” he said and +added: “To come home drunk is not, after all, such +a dreadful thing from a man’s point of view; it is +not nice, as you say, but it is not the most awful +thing in the world. Life’s entire happiness does not +cease because of it; it is not the end of all things.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>“No,” she said thoughtfully looking past him into +some fancy picture. “No, there is always the necessity +to get up and have breakfast next morning, even +after a big tragedy; things don’t end.”</p> + +<p>He laughed a little. “Naturally not, and a good +thing too on the whole, though perhaps it is not +dramatic. Why not induce Mrs. Morton to take +your truly judicial view of the case?”</p> + +<p>“My view? It couldn’t be done.”</p> + +<p>“Why not? I think I understood you to say that +she had lived in the same circumstances as yourself; +if the view is possible to you, why not to her?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, but it is not.” Bill spoke with +absolute conviction. “Besides, I can’t speak about +it to her; I can’t even warn her what to expect. If +she had been with me when you brought him home +last night, I should have been obliged to pretend I +did not know what was the matter, and I should +have kept up the pretence afterwards.”</p> + +<p>“Would you?” he said, eyeing her curiously. “I +suppose you would, and she would have helped you; +women always try to hide the shortcomings of their +loved ones. She won’t admit it when she finds him +out; she will stand by him with a sort of proud +deceit to the end.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Bill answered simply; “he is her +family now, and you must stand by your family, +right or wrong.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose that is what you call loyalty,” Harborough +said with a laugh. “I was born in a land +where we don’t think so much of our families, where +we have not always reason to think much of them.”</p> + +<p>“Mine isn’t much to boast of,” Bill admitted. +“But that has nothing to do with it; I must stand +by them all the same,—why, I should bolster up +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span>Polly. But we are no nearer the settling of Theresa; +I suppose we never shall be, so there is no more to +be said. Thank you for telling me all you knew.”</p> + +<p>“All I didn’t know; that is what it amounts to.”</p> + +<p>She moved as if she were going to get off the +gate, then stopped in the act and said suddenly: +“Polly said Robert would die of apoplexy,—die +young. What do you think?”</p> + +<p>“I think it is a solution of the difficulty I should +not dwell on, if I were you.”</p> + +<p>“Why not? Isn’t it likely?”</p> + +<p>“I should say it was at least uncertain; also it is +not usually considered decent to think about such +things, at all events to talk about them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, decent!” she said, and laughed softly as +she remembered Carrie’s and Alice’s lecture. Then +she dropped off the gate and was immediately lost +among the orchard bushes. He stood for a moment, +half-expecting her to come back, though he did not +know why. As she did not, he went on, smiling a +little.</p> + +<p>Gradually the smile died away. It was all very +well to smile out there in the sunshine, all very well +to talk under the apple-boughs, but the fact remained, +the grim, stern fact. It was no concern of +his, it is true, but he could not help thinking about +it. Of course he knew that Morton drank, not +desperately, nor enough to do any serious harm, not +more than did plenty of other men, nothing more +than occasionally a little too much; so serious an +affair as last night’s occurrence would probably be an +exception. It was not exactly a cardinal sin, it was +just part of his nature, as the little brown girl had +said, a kind of nature for which Harborough had +a tolerant contempt when regarded as a detached +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>specimen; as a personal acquaintance it naturally +wore a different aspect. “If a man drinks, he +drinks, and it is his affair. One can forgive lapses; +we are none of us exactly bread-and-butter saints +when we are nearing the thirties.” Harborough emphasised +the words with his stick; he had almost +said them aloud, not quite, but loud enough for the +man, who that moment joined him, to guess part of +the speech.</p> + +<p>“Who is not a saint when he is nearing the +thirties?” he asked. “Forgive me for surprising +your thoughts, Mr. Harborough; you really should +not think so loud, you know.”</p> + +<p>“I will forgive you more easily than I fancy you +would forgive me for thinking them.” So Harborough +answered, for he had certain very definite +notions as to what was and what was not acceptable +to the clergy, and it was a clergyman who had +accosted him, the rector of Ashelton on his way to +the rectory by a field-path well known to at least one +of his parishioners.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Harborough misjudged this clergyman; +at all events he promised forgiveness for all sins of +thought before they were expressed. “I give absolution +beforehand,” he said; “now confess the +whole.”</p> + +<p>“The whole? I am afraid I was speech-making +to myself, a bad habit I have got from living so much +alone; still you shall have it all. Here goes,—If a +man drinks, he drinks, and it is his affair. One can +forgive lapses; we are none of us bread-and-butter +saints when we are nearing the thirties. But a man +whom the divine wisdom has, it would seem, for its +own purposes, made something of a beast, should keep +his beastliness for suitable places. There is a lot +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>done ‘somewhere east of Suez’ and in other places +nearer at hand, which one does not blame a man for +doing there; but when he does it in his wife’s +drawing-room,—when he is such an egregious fool, +such an unmitigated brute—why then he wants +kicking, and he should be soundly kicked.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane laughed a little, but whether at the +length of the speech or the unconscious earnestness +of its delivery did not appear. “Yes,” he said, +“yes, brutes want kicking; I’m not sure we don’t +all want kicking sometimes. Poor little wife; God +help the wife, whoever she is!”</p> + +<p>Harborough acquiesced. “And yet,” he said +doubtfully, “if she understood, it would be easier, +much easier; a good woman is a hard judge.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, possibly.” The rector’s cold gray eyes +seemed to summon up the memory of some good +woman who had judged hardly. “They were not +made to understand some things.”</p> + +<p>“Not all women,” Harborough interposed.</p> + +<p>“Not all; are you sure she was a good woman, +this exception of yours? But perhaps we had better +not start a controversy now; it is too late. I suppose +the good women will judge the bad men, and +love them too, to the end of the story. Bad men? +No, I beg pardon, average men, neither good nor +bad, just human, no bread-and-butter saints—good-bye.”</p> + +<p>They parted at the rectory-gate. Just as it closed +after Mr. Dane he turned to call after Harborough: +“How about the beef and beer saints? What of +them?”</p> + +<p>“Are there any?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and they’re good for three-score years and +ten.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V.<br> +<small>FOR BILL’S GOOD.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Theresa</span> was a conscientious person, and really had +Bill’s welfare at heart. Miss Brownlow said she +exercised a good influence over her young cousin. +Theresa was rather doubtful on the subject herself, +but she felt the responsibility of her aunt’s expectations, +and determined to fulfil them if possible; only +she did not quite know how to set about it. Bill +proved so very mild; there seemed no occasion for a +preventive and negative influence, and a positive one +Theresa found difficult to compass. The only definite +suggestion she had as yet made for Bill’s mental and +moral benefit was the invitation to the prayer-meeting. +That, both in its religious and social aspects, was +good; the religious side, Theresa felt, must benefit +her charge, though she did not stop to consider how, +religion being to her much what charms were to her +forebears, good and protective, though operating in +methods neither understood nor questioned. The +social side of the prayer-meeting was obviously +beneficial, for it was in every way desirable that Bill +should mix with her elders, it would help her to +grow up. Altogether the prayer-meeting was a good +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>thing, and to it, accordingly, Theresa took her cousin +on Friday evening.</p> + +<p>They drove in the dog-cart: “We can walk +home,” Theresa had said; “it is not far.”</p> + +<p>So Robert, who did not affect prayer-meetings, +drove them and took the cart home again; and as +Theresa disliked driving very much, this arrangement +suited her better than any other. It suited Bill also, +for she sat on the back seat, and was as entirely +oblivious of the two in front as if she had been alone +in her silent survey of the country. It was still very +black and white, she found, though a day of showers +and sunshine would alter the whole face of the land +now. She was conscious of the coming change; +there was a feeling of waiting in the air, as though +the unconscious earth stood patient on the threshold +of life. There were no leaves as yet among the elms, +no blade in the dry, crumbling fields, no hint of green +in the close-cut hedge, so black by contrast with the +white road. So white the road was, so hard, stretching +before them, stretching behind them; Bill looked +at it and thought what a long way it could be seen in +the pale strong light. Every thing could be seen, +the heap of faggots, the pump by the road, the old +man working in a cottage-garden,—she could even +see what kind of belt he wore; she could see everything +near and far,—truly a March evening was a +beautiful thing. She drew in deep breaths of the +thin air; it seemed like wine within her, making the +young blood dance and throb in her veins. She felt, +though she hardly knew it, that it was a splendid +thing to be alive: “I should like to live as long as +the world lasts,” she thought.</p> + +<p>Just then they turned in at a gateway. The short +drive beyond sloped down rapidly and the dog-cart +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>entered with a jerk which nearly unseated the back +passenger, who, however, was examining the garden +too intently to be troubled by that. There was a +large raised flower-bed in the centre of the gravel +sweep, the drive dividing right and left of it. It was +a circular bed planted in a geometrical pattern with +Dutch bulbs; as yet the hyacinths and tulips were +only green shoots, but the crocuses were in full flower +and wound like a coloured ribbon across the intricate +design. Bill was wondering how it was that none of +the crocuses had gone blind, when the cart stopped +before a square, ivy-covered house.</p> + +<p>“T.,” she said, as she got down, “every single one +of those crocuses has come up; they must be a good +sort.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say. Mr. Perry is fond of his garden, +and he has plenty of money.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s acquaintance with people possessing plenty +of money was limited; indeed, she could not recall +anyone she knew who was in that affluent state. She +looked at the Perry’s house critically to see how +“plenty of money” looked when it was translated +into furniture and fittings. There were lots of white +curtains, three or four at every window. “That is +expensive,” she thought; “it means so much washing.” +There were thick carpets on the floors, old-fashioned +in design, excellent in preservation, and +prodigiously ugly; the furniture in the drawing-room +was rosewood, the chairs as like as peas in a pod +and all neatly covered in chintz. “I shall tell Polly +our things are all right,” Bill mentally determined +as she sat down in a retired corner. She had been +duly presented to the host and hostess, had duly +made an inaudible answer to their polite remarks, +and had then sunk into her corner, still safe under +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>her cousin’s wing, as became one of her youth and +shyness. No one in Mrs. Perry’s drawing-room +expected anything different; indeed all would have +been surprised if she had shown greater forwardness +of demeanour. Her nearest neighbour, a little old +lady with a cheerful countenance and a great mosaic +brooch, spoke to her; but at first Bill could not +catch what she said, for she lowered her voice out +of deference to the more important persons present, +until it was little more than a sigh in her listener’s +ear. But after a word or two Bill became used to +the sound and made out, as she might have guessed, +that the subject of conversation was the weather.</p> + +<p>“Dry evening,” was the first she heard, and then +“a nice walk from Ashelton.”</p> + +<p>Bill did not catch the connecting words, but she +answered what she heard, although she did not know +that she had come beyond the boundary of Ashelton +that evening, and contented herself with saying that +they had not walked.</p> + +<p>“Driven?” suggested the old lady. “I expect +Mr. Morton drove you and took the pony home +again; such a good arrangement, and much safer +than for Mrs. Morton to drive those spirited +horses herself. I’m sure I wonder she has never +had an accident; I quite thought there would be +one when I saw her go by on Tuesday afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Did you see us then?” Bill asked, and her +neighbour explained that she lived at the house at the +corner where the roads divided. Then Bill knew +that this must be Miss Minchin, the lady who, +Theresa said, made ample use of the opportunities +for observation offered by the commanding position +of her house. At that moment the entrance +of some fresh arrivals caused such a buzz of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>conversation that Miss Minchin ventured to inquire +in quite a loud voice whether Bill herself could +manage a horse.</p> + +<p>“I never tried until I came here,” she answered; +“I only came on Tuesday, but I have done a little +since then. I drove a waggon of straw home yesterday. +Tom Griggs told me he thought I should soon +be able to handle most things on four legs, but I +don’t suppose he knows.”</p> + +<p>“You are learning to drive?” Miss Minchin +asked, somewhat mystified. “Mr. Morton is teaching +you? But, my dear, do be careful, he has such +mettlesome horses; gentlemen seem all alike for that; +there’s Mr. Harborough, now, he’s nearly as bad. +You know Mr. Harborough?” Before Bill could +answer the old lady went on: “Hush! Mr. Perry +is going to speak. You must come with Mrs. +Morton to see me to-morrow; I have a cat and +a canary, and several things that will interest you.” +The last words were spoken in a shrill whisper in +Bill’s ear as the company settled themselves, and Mr. +Perry, a trim little man some years retired from the +grocery trade, called attention to the fact that the +reading was about to begin. When he had made +this announcement in a redundancy of words (for he +was not averse to speech-making and had few opportunities), +the proceedings commenced.</p> + +<p>The subject for the evening was faith. Mr. Johnson +was giving a course of Christian virtues during +that Lent, and faith happened to be the one under +consideration on the evening when Bill was present. +She was very much interested, though it was not a +matter in which she had erred greatly hitherto; she +believed largely, had much imagination, and as yet +had thought little and felt less; consequently Mr. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>Johnson’s flowery periods slid harmlessly off her still +unconscious mind. She was interested, at first a little +in the words, afterwards entirely by the man. Mr. +Johnson was a fair man with a tendency towards the +sandy, smooth, slightly florid, and with more than a +tendency towards plumpness. He had for many +years been curate at Ashelton, and, though he was +now past middle life, it seemed that he was likely to +remain curate at Ashelton, for it appeared that the +Church dignitaries had not the same opinion of his +worth as had some other people who need not be +named. After all, curate at the three Asheltons was +on the whole well enough. There was not too much +work in the big straggling parish, and there was +much sociability of a sort well suited to a man who +had a nice taste in tea and pale sherry, and more +fancy for being a whale among minnows than a +minnow among whales. At Ashelton, though perhaps +not exactly a whale, he could pass as a very +tolerably sized fish among others of congenial dimensions, +at all events when the rector was not there. As +for the rector—well, poor man, he was eccentric, he +had had trouble—Mr. Johnson said so leniently without +any idea as to what the trouble was. For the +eccentricity he could vouch: the rector had a cousin +who was a bishop, in a genuine, important bishopric, +and another, it was hinted, who was a peer. What +man, not eccentric, would have remained all these +years in a little country parish when he possessed these +advantages? Then there was his passion for music, +and also his inability to appreciate Mr. Johnson. +Mr. Johnson had at last come to the conclusion that +this inability did exist; yet even now he was not sure +that it was not partly the expression of a not unnatural +jealousy of his own social and parochial triumphs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>On that particular March evening Mr. Johnson +knew that he had added one more to the long list of +those triumphs. It was a small matter, of course, +but, as he told his wife, trifles like that showed how +easily he could have influenced a larger audience, had +he been in command of one. The trifle in question +was Bill Alardy, whose face showed how deeply +interested she was in Mr. Johnson’s words. She had +the most expressive face imaginable, and that evening +it was alive with interest. She had never taken her +eyes off the speaker; she listened to every word, the +tell-tale face expressing the keenest enjoyment and +appreciation. So marked was this that after supper, +when all were leaving, Mr. Johnson came to Theresa +and shook hands with her and Bill, telling the latter +impressively that he was very glad to see her at the +reading.</p> + +<p>To this Bill answered with equal impressiveness, “I +am very glad I came.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson smiled encouragingly. “I shall be +happy if at any time I can be of help to you,” he +said; “I am always pleased to help any one.”</p> + +<p>Bill thanked him vaguely and went out with +Theresa. She did not know what he meant, but +it did not matter, as she did not feel conscious of +wanting his help. In her opinion he could not +improve upon that evening’s performance, which had +been perfectly delightful; so delightful that when she +went to her room she thought about him until it +became too much for her, and turning to the little +wooden bed and the chair which stood beside it, she +addressed them, inanimate though they were. “My +brothers and sisters,” she said—and her flexible voice, +far more flexible even than her face, rolled out in +unctuous tones—“my brothers and sisters, faith is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>the substance of things hoped for, the only evidence +we can present to our spiritual senses, the only +evidence they need. It is the be-all and end-all, the +beginning and the end of all things.” She rolled the +words lovingly on her tongue, swelling her face until +it became almost Johnsonian in size. “Everything +is faith, faith is everything.” Here she stretched out +a persuasive hand to the quaint little bed. “In it we +live and move and have our being; being dead, we +die not if in faith, being alive, we live not without it. +Whatever is, is not, whatever is not, is, was and shall +be, world without end, amen.”</p> + +<p>But Theresa did not hear this, and held to her first +opinion as to the kind of spiritual good Bill derived +from the prayer-meeting. Of the social good she +was not so sure, until her young cousin came to her +on Saturday morning and suggested that they should +go and see Miss Minchin in the afternoon. “Let us +go,” she said; “she promised to show me her cat and +bird and other things.”</p> + +<p>Theresa acceded to the request, feeling that last +night’s meeting was not without results since it had +introduced Miss Minchin, and implanted a desire to +visit in Bill’s mind.</p> + +<p>Miss Minchin’s house was set at the corner where +the high road from Wrugglesby divided, the one way +to go through Ashelton to the church, the other to +the lanes and so to the more distant village of Sales +Green. “It is a terribly public place,” Miss Gruet, +Miss Minchin’s particular friend, always said with +commiseration. Her own house was privacy itself, +the lower windows looking solely on the laurel +bushes tall and elderly, the upper as effectually +screened by a great horse-chestnut tree. “It was +most secluded,” Miss Gruet said, and, out of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>pity no doubt, she often left her seclusion to cheer +her friend in the publicity which had fallen to her +share. She did so on the afternoon when Theresa +and Bill made their call, but did not arrive until Miss +Minchin had duly shown her treasures. Bill was +interested in them all,—in the cat asleep on the +violet bed, only dislodged with the end of an +umbrella, and the canary before the window in a +green cage with a piece of grey paper neatly tacked +round the lower part to keep the seeds in and the +draughts out. This piece of paper was often changed, +varying in colour with the Church festivals and other +important events, always going into mourning on the +death of royalty; at least, the cage did. Black paper +Miss Minchin found difficult to obtain, as she explained +to Bill.</p> + +<p>“When the poor dear Duke of Clarence died,” +she said, “I could not get a scrap. I put a piece of +black cashmere round the cage, but the little fellow +(it was not this canary then but another one) did not +like it a bit.”</p> + +<p>The subject of discussion here gave a short burst of +song. When he ceased Miss Minchin encouraged him +to continue. “Swee-e-t!” she said; “go on, my +pretty, swee-e-t! He likes someone to whistle to +him, but of course I can’t do that.”</p> + +<p>“I can,” said Bill, and gave a trilling imitation of +the caged singer.</p> + +<p>“I declare,” exclaimed Miss Minchin, “it’s quite +charming! I’m sure if girls had whistled like that +in my young days no one would have thought it +unladylike. They did think so, then, my dear, but +now, to be sure, things are quite changed; everyone +can do as they like, and more besides.”</p> + +<p>It was just then that Miss Gruet came in. “I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>thought you must be coming here,” Miss Minchin +said briskly. “I said so to Mrs. Morton just now, +when I saw you coming down the road.”</p> + +<p>“You can see everyone from your window,” Miss +Gruet said with a touch of severity. “I do believe +from your back bedroom you could almost see the +field-path that leads to the rectory.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Miss Minchin admitted, “I can if I move +the toilet-glass. Of course I never do move it, +unless it happens that the blind goes wrong, as it +does sometimes. It is such a tiresome blind; I +remember I had to see to it the day Tom Davies +went to put his banns up; he thought no one saw +him go sneaking to the rectory, but I did, for I was +mending my blind.”</p> + +<p>Miss Gruet professed herself properly shocked—and +interested. “There is no telling what you might +not see,” she said, “and Mr. Dane a bachelor too!”</p> + +<p>Miss Minchin hastened to assure the company that +she had never seen anything bad; indeed, only +yesterday morning, when the troublesome blind went +wrong again, she had seen quite a pleasant sight—Mr. +Dane and young Mr. Harborough in earnest +conversation. “So nice,” she said, “for a young +man like that to be such friends with the rector.”</p> + +<p>The others agreed with her, and talked over this +item of intelligence in all its aspects. A little later, +Theresa and Miss Gruet being at the time deep in a +discussion of the difficulty of preventing mice from +eating cheese-mats, Bill led the conversation back to +Harborough.</p> + +<p>“The Harboroughs of Gurnett,” she said; “does +this Mr. Harborough belong to them?”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed,” Miss Minchin answered, almost +shocked at the idea. “The Harboroughs of Gurnett +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>are the Harboroughs of Wood Hall, one of the +oldest families of the county, just as Wood Hall is +one of the finest places. At least, it used to be, but +times are sadly changed from what they were. The +Harboroughs are poor now and cannot afford to +keep the place up; not but what it is fine still,—have +you ever seen it?”</p> + +<p>“No, but I have heard about it,” Bill said eagerly. +“There is a room there, the library I think, with a +fireplace so big that a quadrille could be danced on +the hearth; and the great hall is so wide that a coach +and four could turn in it without touching the wall +on either side.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my dear, yes.” The old lady’s tone was +sad, as of one who remembers departed greatness. +“Yes; so they say; they say many things about the +place. It is sad to think of the way in which it is +being left, sad to think of the Harboroughs, a good +old family.”</p> + +<p>“I thought they were bad,” Bill remarked, remembering +the common report of the district.</p> + +<p>“So they were, bad and extravagant too; they +nearly all were, and that is why they are so poor +now.”</p> + +<p>Bill did not express any opinion on good old +families which were also bad; she only remarked +meditatively, “I think I shall go to Wood Hall.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t,” Miss Minchin said; “Mr. Harborough +lives there now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but parts of the grounds are open, are +they not? I could see them, as much as can be +seen.”</p> + +<p>“I would not, if I were you.” Miss Minchin’s +voice was a solemn warning.</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>“Because,—it does not seem exactly right for a +young girl to go into those grounds.”</p> + +<p>“But why?”</p> + +<p>Miss Minchin dropped her voice half a tone lower. +“Mr. Harborough is a bad old man,” she said, “a +very wicked old man. It does not become me to +speak ill of one in his station, belonging to this county +too; still facts are facts and they are terrible.”</p> + +<p>“What has he done?”</p> + +<p>Bill showed, or Miss Minchin thought she showed, +too much interest in the subject, and, either because +she would not, or else because she could not, she +gave no further information. Whereupon Bill, +failing to hear anything about the one Mr. Harborough +turned to the other.</p> + +<p>“Is he related to the Wood Hall people?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“No, oh dear, no,” Miss Minchin answered. +“He is an Australian, or a New Zealander, or something +American and colonial; I am rather uncertain +about those places, but he comes from one of them. +Besides, my dear, consider, he is a farmer, nothing +but a farmer,—a very good profession; I am not +saying anything against it,” she added, hastily +remembering Theresa’s husband; “indeed, I should +be very sorry to, seeing that all the patriarchs were +farmers, so to say. Still, you must admit it is not +quite suitable to a member of the county-families. +I know old families are not respected as they used to +be, but no one would think of classing them with +farmers even now.”</p> + +<p>Bill acquiesced and then observed: “It is queer +he should have the same name.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” Miss Minchin said, bridling +a little. “It is not such an uncommon name; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>besides the old families spread so. Long ago they +were, no doubt, much larger than they now are; +there is no telling where all the younger branches +go.”</p> + +<p>“You think he is a younger branch? Then he +should be as good as the others.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not: for one reason he has not lived +in the same place so long; he and his forebears have +gone out from among the family; they have not +kept up the family traditions. There are many +traditions in a family like that, many, and much +property too. Why, do you know the side chapel +in our parish church is the property of the Harboroughs?”</p> + +<p>Bill did not know it, neither did she see the force +of it as an argument; nevertheless she was interested. +“The whole chapel?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the little chapel and the little altar and all +complete. Of course they never go there, for they +are Catholics. I sometimes think perhaps if Mr. +Harborough had not been a Catholic—but there! +We mustn’t be uncharitable. Do you like reading? +Yes? Then I should advise you to read the history +of the county; you will find all about Wood Hall +there and many other things you will like. I don’t +think Mrs. Morton has a history, but Miss Gruet +has a very nice book of Selections, which I have no +doubt she will lend to you; I do believe I have it in +the house now.” She had borrowed it when Harborough +first came and had not yet returned it. +“We can ask her to allow you to take it home with +you; I’m sure she will.”</p> + +<p>This Miss Gruet expressed herself happy to do, +and Bill carried the book away with her when she +left with Theresa a few minutes later.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI.<br> +<small>THE RIGHT OF WAY.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> parish church of Ashelton was very old. It was +said in Miss Gruet’s selected history of the county to +be of great antiquarian interest; but antiquaries did +not abound in Ashelton, and neither the inhabitants +nor their friends troubled their heads much about the +stone-work of the fourteenth century, or any of the +other commended points of interest. At one time +there had been a couple of letters in a Wrugglesby +paper about a little Last Judgment window of obscure +meaning; but the letters had long been forgotten, +and the rector’s new organ partly hid the window +now.</p> + +<p>Bill paid particular attention to the window on the +first Sunday that she went to Ashelton church; but +she had just been reading about it and knew where +to look for it. For the rest, that which chiefly +pleased her were the grinning goblin faces which +looked out from the capitals of pillars and the niches +of windows,—from every place where the old builders +could put them; there was even one carved at the +end of Theresa’s pew. Everybody had a pew, and +almost everybody went to church in Ashelton. The +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>Morton’s pew was conveniently situated for keeping +an eye on the rest of the congregation. There was +only one better placed for that purpose, Miss Minchin’s; +but she, as she always maintained, had not +selected it herself, her dear mother having done so +long before her time,—in which case, it is possible to +conceive that Miss Minchin inherited her tastes, as +well as her pew, from her mother. Bill, from her +place of vantage, looked at everybody, and everybody, +with even greater interest, looked at her. In +fact so much did they look that she, though as a rule +somewhat indifferent on the subject of clothes, was +rather glad that Polly had furbished up her winter +hat before she left Wrugglesby. She gave the hat +a little pull forward as she thought of it, and looked +across Mrs. Perry’s purple bonnet to the Harborough +chapel. It was to the left of the chancel, a step +higher than the main body of the church and in a +measure cut off from it by a continuance of the +slender oak screen which stood before the chancel +itself. Bill looked at it thoughtfully, opining that +there could never have been enough Harboroughs to +fill it, unless they brought their servants with them. +There was a small altar with a cross upon it, and +above, an old window where fat cherubs smiled in +starch-blue smoke. She wondered what its meaning +was, as others had wondered before her, and came to +the conclusion that it was a pity the starch clouds, if +they were clouds, were not red instead of blue: “It +could not possibly make the place darker than it now +is,” she thought, “and it would look very much +nicer.”</p> + +<p>It is to be feared that Bill did not pay very much +attention to the sermon. She looked about her over +much, but she could still say with truth, when asked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span>by Miss Gruet afterwards, that she had enjoyed the +service, for she had a keen ear for music, and the +music at Ashelton church was very good. She +listened with rapt attention to what Miss Minchin +called “the set pieces,” and joined enthusiastically in +the hymns, singing loud and sweet, for though her +flexible voice was perhaps better suited to the mimicry +of other sounds than anything else, it still possessed +a rich sweetness in its many-noted variations.</p> + +<p>When Bella came home from visiting Theresa in +the winter she confessed to Polly that she had found +Sunday afternoon a little dull; that is to say the first +Sunday afternoon; on the second she had gone for a +walk and—Bill had not heard any more, so she did +not know what prevented the second Sunday afternoon +from being as dull as the first. She did not +herself find the afternoon dull, as she went up to the +garret to look over some books. Theresa in bringing +away her girlish treasures from Miss Brownlow’s +had accidentally brought a few things which were +not hers.</p> + +<p>“I have been meaning to take them back several +times,” she said, “but I keep forgetting. I really +hardly know what they are now; there are one or +two books belonging to Polly and to you, or your +father. I put them in a box in the garret when I +had to turn the spare room out; you might get +them down some time and put them with your +things, if you will.”</p> + +<p>Bill said she would, and chose Sunday afternoon +to do it. She left Robert and Theresa reading and +dozing by the fire with the port and oranges on the +table beside them. “Don’t you want any dessert?” +Theresa had said. But Bill did not care about port +and oranges; she filled her pocket with nuts and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>went to the garret to eat them while she looked over +the books. These she found in a lidless packing-case +neatly covered over with brown paper. The one on +the top was <span class="smcap">Holy Living and Dying</span>. “That’s +Auntie’s: Theresa must have got it from the top +shelf in the dining-room; the books there were +mostly hers; I suppose she thought they all were +and took the lot.” The next was a small brown +volume, <span class="smcap">Plain Truths for Plain People</span>, in which +she found Polly’s name—“That’s just the book for +Polly; a plain person she certainly is, and the plain +truth is a very good thing for her to start on, +considering how she can trim it.” The two volumes +were laid aside, and the next dive into the box +brought out a book she was pleased to see but did +not before know that they possessed, an old history +of that part of the county. “Whose is this, I +wonder?—why, it’s mine!” She had turned to the +first page and seen her own name Wilhelmina Alardy.</p> + +<p>“That’s funny,”—she was cracking her nuts with +her teeth as she looked. “At least, I don’t know +that it is so funny after all; I expect it was stuck up +at the top with the other old things, so I never knew +about it. Of course I am not that Wilhelmina; +that’s Grandmother.”</p> + +<p>Bill looked long at the book, for she had not many +relics, or even tales, of her own grandmother, as she +counted her father’s mother in distinction from her +mother’s mother whom she shared equally with the +cousins. There was not, to be sure, much of this +lady to share; not one of the four cousins had even +a memory of her, though of their own grandmothers +the others each had something to tell. Polly had a +good many tales about hers, with an ugly old portrait, +too, and a heavy locket she used to wear. Bella and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>Theresa could remember theirs plainly; they had stayed +with her when they were little girls, and still had the +coral necklaces she gave them the last Christmas she +was alive. But Bill had neither tales nor trinkets; +her parents had both died when she was very young, +and Miss Brownlow knew no traditions of the Alardys +and few facts concerning them, except that Bill’s father +was an only son, and that for relations the girl must +depend on her; so it happened that Bill knew little +about her grandmother, except that she herself was +named after her. There was a little wooden box-ottoman +in the spare bedroom at Langford House, which, +she had been told, used to belong to this grandmother. +She had looked inside it once and found nothing but +papers, which did not prove very interesting; a few +letters, not easy to decipher and not, so far as she +had tried them, entertaining; half a dozen bills, part +of an old account-book, some recipes for cough-mixture +and tea-cakes, a few odd sheets of paper and +manuscript music, and some legal-looking documents +which were quite beyond her comprehension. The +greater part of this miscellaneous collection seemed to +have belonged to her mother; a few of the less intelligible +were of an older date, and the music and some +scraps of poetry were not dated at all. Bill had +thought of carrying the poetry away, as the only +thing there which interested her; but since she had +gone to the box without Miss Brownlow’s permission, +she decided that she had better not take anything +out, and learned the lines by heart instead. +Then she shut the box, and gave up any hope of +boasting as intimate an acquaintance with her grandmother +as the other cousins did with theirs.</p> + +<p>That was in the winter. She had not thought any +more about it until this Sunday afternoon when she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>unexpectedly came upon the history of the county +with her grandmother’s name on the fly-leaf. She +was delighted with her discovery, partly because it +was her grandmother’s, but chiefly because it was the +very book she wanted. Settling herself comfortably +on an empty tea-chest, she proceeded to study it and +the old map of the district which she found folded +inside. When at last she was called down-stairs for +tea she was still full of her treasure, and told Robert +and Theresa about it. They listened, amused by the +interest she attached to it and the attraction she found +in both book and map.</p> + +<p>“I believe the map must be a good one,” she said +at last; “it is so clear, I think I could find my way +anywhere by it.”</p> + +<p>“Where do you want to find your way?” Robert +asked smiling.</p> + +<p>“Oh, to lots of places, to Gurnett for one. I +think I shall walk to Gurnett to-morrow; may I, +Theresa?”</p> + +<p>“It is rather a long way, but go if you like.” +Theresa perhaps thought a long walk would be better +for her young cousin than spending too much time +with the animals in the yard.</p> + +<p>The next morning, accordingly, Bill, armed with +her map and some sandwiches for refreshment by the +way, started on her walk. The distance might be +long, but she could not remember any time in her +life when she had been really tired. It seemed to +her that mere walking was not enough, and once +fairly started in the lonely lanes and quiet fields, she +broke into a run for pure lightness of heart and +ecstasy of living. Soon she was out on a road again, +and here she walked more soberly, looking to right +and left, noting the veil of green that was spreading +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>over the hedges, enjoying to the full the day and the +walk and the solitude.</p> + +<p>And so Gurnett was reached, almost too soon, and +the sandwiches eaten behind a grassy bank, very +much too soon considering it was not yet twelve. +After that the map was pulled out and considered +thoughtfully. It was some time before she could +find on it the exact spot where she now was, but at +last she did. “Here I am, here—oh, yes, these +must be the cross-roads; there is Wood Hall, over +there, and here comes the lane between, the second +turning after the cross-roads. The little path ought +to cross just where the road joins the lane; I wonder +if I shall find it; it seems to go straight from Corbycroft +on one side of the lane to Wood Hall on the +other, or rather to the little church in Wood Hall +grounds. I don’t see what it can have been made +for, but it must be a real path since it is marked; if +anyone says anything to me I shall show him the +map.”</p> + +<p>Having come to this satisfactory conclusion Bill +folded up her map and went on. In due time she +came to the junction of the road and lane, but there +was no indication that a footpath existed in any +direction. In fact, the country itself on the left-hand +side had undergone something of a change, for +whereas her map showed that there had been a sort +of park, the property of the distant hall, Corbycroft, +there now seemed to be nothing but pasture-fields. +She climbed the steep bank, the lane here being considerably +below the level of the fields, and looked +round. There was nothing but pasture-land, green, +curving, sloping gradually away from her. A clump +of elms stood in the centre, beautiful trees, tawny +with the catkins which hung from their black +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>branches; but there was no park, only pasture-land +sloping down to the farm in the distance. And the +farm looked very much as if it were a farm and not +a hall; perhaps it was the remains of the old hall +patched up and serving as a farm-house; though, to +be sure, her history had spoken of a hall, a small off-manor +belonging to the Corbys, a family who seemed +to have had their head-quarters and more important +property away in the north of the county, in the +direction of the coast. The map and history were +alike old, and Bill was forced to admit that things +might have changed since they were made.</p> + +<p>But if the left side of the lane was disappointing, +the right more than fulfilled expectations. The +ground sloped sharply up on that side; Wood Hall +evidently stood on a hill and appeared to be hidden +among trees, for the slope as far as Bill could see +was covered with wood. It was not a trim park but +a thicket, a wild young forest growing up as it could +about the stumps of veteran oaks and beeches long +since sacrificed to the axe. In some places the young +trees almost choked each other with their crowded +growth; in others they struggled for existence with +the old pollards that still held their ground. Brambles +and moss and last year’s fern covered the paths and +choked the water-courses; here and there a tree, too +lightly rooted to withstand the winters’ storms, or too +old to bear the weight of its years, had fallen and lay +as it fell. All was neglected, all growing, in +crowded thicket or open glade, as only nature +unassisted can grow; for it was genuine woodland, +where the sunshine filtered through a close-woven +roof of branches and chased dancing shadows over +last year’s leaves; thickets of thorn breaking into +leaf, primroses hiding in the moss at their feet; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>beeches, tall and straight as pillars of stone, a cathedral +twilight in their shade; pollard oaks still brown +in sheltered places; the glossy darkness of holly, the +stately grace of slim young larches lightly tasselled in +earliest green; silver birches, old trees, their white +bark cracked and swelled, blackened by many years; +young trees, a lace-work of branches, a tangle of +supple stems and bursting buds.</p> + +<p>Bill was over the low boundary fence now. There +was no evidence of a path, but there ought to have +been; it was marked on her map and she was going +to find it, so she began the ascent in the direction in +which it should have been. Up she went, the ground +soft and irregular, here the dead leaves of many years +blown into hollows rustling about her feet, there the +rich black earth patched with moss, emerald and gray +and golden brown. An old pollard lay as it had +fallen; about its head fungus had gathered, and +under its side primroses grew. Higher up, where +the leaves were fewer, in sheltered ledges, beneath +the twisty coils of beech-roots there were more +primroses, plenty of them, and everywhere anemones, +fairy flowers that danced among the dead bracken. +The sun, hidden by the hill, looked down through +the forest aisles, threading the whole place with +arrows of light so that all around there was a lattice +of woven light and shadow, while, before, there +lay a path golden as Jacob’s way to heaven.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily the girl stood still, clasping her +hands tight on one another, while her breath came +fast. All round stretched this living woodland, +thrilling with its growing, stirring life; the bare +trees, brown and purple and deep blue in their +shadows, yet touched with the breath of spring, +faintest green, or gold, or sparkling where the sun +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>caught their yet unopened buds. The very earth +was audible, alive, as it breathed forth its moist +sweetness; and the birds sang their anthem of praise +for the world’s eternal, ever recurring youth.</p> + +<p>She stood, a little brown figure in the lonely wood, +her whole soul going out to the great mother Earth, +her heart filled with a passionate, inarticulate gladness. +“Oh, God!” she said, “how good, how good +it all is!”</p> + +<p>She said it aloud because she had not outgrown +that stage of savagedom which feels, with the Druids +of old, that God is in the woods. A chaffinch on a +crab-tree above her head looked down and to another +hid in the catkinned branches of a hornbeam cried, +“Come and see, what d’ye think! What d’ye +think!” And the other replied with exactly the +same words, or at least it seemed so to Bill; she +listened a moment, then answered them with a call +so like their own that they might well have been +puzzled by it if she had not at that moment begun +to sing and frightened them both to the safe distance +of a higher bough—</p> + +<p class="center">“There’s laughter for the May-time,”—</p> + +<p>She sang and her voice was like a lark’s in its +complete gladness—</p> + +<p class="center">“The morning of the year—the year”—</p> + +<p>and the singing was merged into ripples of sound +neither song nor laughter and yet a wild sweet +blending of both.</p> + +<p>“Well, young woman, I hope you are satisfied.”</p> + +<p>Bill stopped abruptly and faced the speaker, an old +man on the higher ground just above her. He may +have approached by some path hidden in the thicket +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span>on the right, or he may have been close at hand +waiting till now to declare himself; she did not +know which, neither did she know what was expected +of her, so she only answered truthfully, +“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad to hear it.” She looked puzzled, and +he added abruptly: “You are trespassing,—do you +know it?”</p> + +<p>The light began to dawn on Bill’s mind; she had +forgotten all about the map and the footpath, but +now she remembered and answered eagerly: “No, no, +I am not really, at least I don’t think I can be; there +is a footpath somewhere about here; I can’t have got +far from it.”</p> + +<p>“There is no footpath.”</p> + +<p>“But it is marked on my map,” and Bill began +to unfold the paper in which she had for greater +security wrapped her treasure.</p> + +<p>“I can’t help your map; there is no footpath +here and there never was. I think I should know +considering that the place belongs to me.”</p> + +<p>“Are you Mr. Harborough?” Bill’s face beamed +with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“I am; the fact seems to afford you pleasure.”</p> + +<p>“I am pleased,” Bill admitted. Having once got +herself into a difficulty she never had any hesitation +about going through with it, in which course she was +often helped by a serene unconsciousness of her +position and offences, a quality Polly reckoned high +in the list of her condemned exhibitions of no +“gumption.” “I am pleased. I—I had heard +about you.”</p> + +<p>“I am indeed gratified”; he spoke with a sarcastic +courtesy somewhat wasted on his hearer. +“Judging by your flattering anxiety to make my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>acquaintance, I must conclude that what you heard +was to my credit.”</p> + +<p>“It was interesting,” Bill said doubtfully.</p> + +<p>Whereupon the old man laughed. “In that case,” +he said, “I must conclude it was not to my credit.”</p> + +<p>Without replying Bill unfolded her map. “This +is the footpath,” she said, and began tracing it with +her finger.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to see your map, child.” He was +looking curiously at the small brown figure. “Look +up,” he said, “I would rather see your face. Tell +me where you learnt to sing and laugh and whistle to +the birds all in a breath.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; I suppose I was made like that,” +she still persistently spread out the map. “My +cousin Polly,” she explained, without glancing up, +“says my father was a singer, a poor one, you know, +not anything much, but perhaps I inherited it from +him. Sometimes, though, Polly says he was a +ventriloquist or even a clown; I don’t think she +really knows.—See, here is the footpath.”</p> + +<p>“Whose is this map?” Mr. Harborough asked; +he had taken it from her and was examining it +through a gold-rimmed glass.</p> + +<p>“Mine.”</p> + +<p>“But you did not mark that path; it was done +years ago.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, when the map was made.”</p> + +<p>“No, certainly not; it was put in afterwards, that +is easy to see. Even if I did not know that, as no +such path exists, it could not have been printed then +or at any other time.”</p> + +<p>He dropped his glass and handed the map back to +Bill who, after looking at it a little, began to see that +he was correct.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>“Then there is no path here after all,” she said in +a tone of woful disappointment. “I should like to +know who marked it on the map?”</p> + +<p>“So should I, so should I very much. Where did +you get the thing?”</p> + +<p>“I found it in an old book of my grandmother’s.”</p> + +<p>“Your grandmother?” he said impatiently. +“What was your grandmother, who was she, how +did she come by the book and the map, whose were +they before?”</p> + +<p>Bill could give him no information, and he held +out his hand for the map again. She gave it to him +and he examined it critically. “There were very +few people who could have put that in,” he said +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Then there is a path!” Bill exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“No, there is not, and there never was. Come +with me, just a few steps. There,—now look down, +your path should pass the pond by that stream, do +you see? That boggy place, that is where it is +marked to go; that place has always been the same. +What do you think of men who chose that way by +preference,—is it likely they would do it? What +should you think of them?”</p> + +<p>“I should think they were in a great hurry, and +perhaps, that it was night,” and Bill looked down +into the marshy, overgrown hollow, at a loss to +understand.</p> + +<p>Her companion’s voice aroused her: “What about +this grandmother of yours?” he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know anything; she has been dead a +long time, but I will find out if I can.”</p> + +<p>“Will you? Perhaps you think you will also find +out about this mysterious path?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>Bill was a painfully persistent person. It may +have been that Mr. Harborough thought so, or it +may have been that he still wished to keep her to +enliven the tedium of the day, for he said coolly: +“I will tell you if you like. There is no path, it is +true, but the way marked on your map was taken +one night by men in a hurry to reach the chapel of +ease further on in these grounds.”</p> + +<p>“They made a path for themselves!” Bill cried. +“They were in a hurry and went the nearest way! +What were they doing? Why did they want to go +to the chapel?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Harborough laughed at her eagerness. “My +dear young lady,” he said, “I will explain if you +wish, only we must really walk on. I am sorry to +say I can no longer stand an indefinite time even to +discuss anything so romantic as you seem to think +this tale. Let us go on,—this way. Now for the +romance: to begin with, do you know a certain old +tradition in connection with carrying a corpse? It +may linger still, though I hardly think it, but at the +time I am speaking of it was not infrequently believed +that the way along which a body had been carried for +burial became a path for ever, became what is called +a right of way. Mind, this is tradition I am telling +you, not fact; it is not fact and it never was. If +twenty bodies were carried through my grounds for +burial no right of way would be established, but at +one time some people firmly believed such a thing to +be the case.”</p> + +<p>“Then the men were carrying a body?” Bill’s +face was flushed with excitement. “And the person +who marked my map knew about it and believed the +tradition?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. The question is, who marked your map?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>“Did not many people know about carrying the +body that way?”</p> + +<p>“Not many, and certainly very few could have +marked your map with the accuracy with which I +believe it to be marked.”</p> + +<p>“The burying was private, then?”</p> + +<p>Bill was anxious to make the most of her romance. +Her companion watched her eagerness with an amused +face, and as they came suddenly on to a gravel path, +he said with an air of impenetrable mystery: “Very +private, I should say, at that time, very private +indeed.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII.<br> +<small>HARBOROUGH OF GURNETT.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was an axiom of Polly’s that if you can’t be clever, +you had better be a fool. This, needless to state, +was first said in reference to Bill who, Polly considered, +fell into the last category and fell there +comfortably. “Providence, or something else, helps +fools,” was Polly’s opinion, “while it leaves moderately +sensible people to shift for themselves. Things +always turn out right for fools. Whatever muddle +Bill blundered into, I believe she would blunder out +of it again not one bit the worse.” The day that +Bill went in search of the right of way at Wood Hall +was possibly an illustration of this faculty; for on +that occasion, though she had the ill-luck to blunder +on the owner of the property, she was not ignominiously +turned out of the place, threatened with +prosecution and other penalties; on the contrary, +she was—“Well, treated in a way in which I should +not have been treated,” Polly said with an indignant +sniff. Wherein she certainly spoke the truth, but +then, as Bella pointed out, Bill was not Polly; though +what Bill was that she should please the master of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>Wood Hall, neither could quite say. They did not +know him.</p> + +<p>After all, there was not much to know, only a +lonely old man who had outlived friends and health +and amusements. He had come to Wood Hall to +die, he said, for it was well fitting that he, the last of +the family in a direct line, should die in the neglected +home. Certainly he had never used it much as a +home; perhaps he had not cared to do so in reduced +state, perhaps, more likely, he had little interest in a +country life. One autumn, a long time ago, he had +spent a month or two at the old hall, which was only +some five miles from the house where the high sheriff +for the year was living. People said that this proximity +had something to do with Mr. Harborough’s +visit; and certainly there was some scandal about the +sheriff’s wife which had the effect of closing the doors +of the neighbouring gentry upon him for a time, at +least of those who still cherished certain provincial +notions of morality. But that was all a very old tale, +a tale almost forgotten now. Miss Minchin and her +compeers might recall it, but to the younger generation +Mr. Harborough and his doings were little more +than a name, for since that time Wood Hall had seen +but very little of him. Indeed, he affected a cynical +indifference for the old house, which was possibly +genuine enough, though it had not prevented his +coming to pass his last lonely days there. Lonely +they were, and tedious he often found them; tedious +when he was ill, more tedious still when he was well. +It was to this tedium, and to the fact that he was +moderately well that day, that Bill owed the interest +she had for him; that and, perhaps, some little charm +her youth had for the old rake.</p> + +<p>Whatever may have been the cause, certainly she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>did interest him, for when he led her through the +wood and out on to the path he showed no +inclination to let her go. The path was a weed-grown +gravel sweep, dividing the wood on the one +side from a shrubbery on the other. Here a man +with a wheeled chair was waiting the arrival of his +master.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” Bill exclaimed as she saw the path between +the trees, “I have come out at the wrong place! +I had better go back.”</p> + +<p>“And lose your way, and trespass still further on +my property?”</p> + +<p>“I will be very careful.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say.” The old man seated himself in the +chair as he spoke. “Don’t you think you have +trespassed enough for one day?”</p> + +<p>Bill did not consider that she had exactly trespassed, +but she was not sure that she could make +anyone else, say a magistrate, take the same view; +neither was she sure what the penalty for trespass +might be, so she only said: “I am very sorry; +I thought the map was right, though I certainly did +not see a path.”</p> + +<p>“On the strength of the thought you went to +look? Yes? Well, supposing I let you off this +time—”</p> + +<p>“I will never do it again.”</p> + +<p>“—Let you off, I say, on a condition.”</p> + +<p>“What condition?” Bill asked cautiously.</p> + +<p>“That as a penance for coming here, you finish +that song you began in the wood.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all? I’ll certainly do that. It is not +a real song, only a verse of poetry and I don’t sing +it quite right. The last line should be ‘In winter +rest is sweet,’ only I like it best the other way. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span>Shall I sing it now?” And receiving an answer in +the affirmative, she sang without more ado:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“There’s laughter for the May-time,</div> +<div class="verse">The morning of the year;</div> +<div class="verse">There’s work for all the day-time,</div> +<div class="verse">When summer’s noon is here;</div> +<div class="verse">The victor’s crown of glory</div> +<div class="verse">The harvest home shall greet;</div> +<div class="verse">But after life’s long story</div> +<div class="verse">There’s the devil’s bill to meet!</div> +<div class="verse">The devil’s bill—”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>she sang till all the wood around her seemed full +of laughing voices—</p> + +<p class="center"> “The devil’s bill, the devil’s bill, the devil’s bill to meet!”</p> + +<p>Seeing that the condition laid upon her was a +light one she felt bound to fulfil it to the uttermost +and to do her best, using all the tricks of voice and +tone that she knew. In this laudable endeavour her +success was such that even the stoical attendant with +the chair, who, it might have been presumed, had +outlived astonishment in his master’s service, looked +at her in surprise, while Mr. Harborough himself +was delighted.</p> + +<p>“Bravo!” he exclaimed. “What a voice it is! +They ought to put you on the stage, the variety-stage.”</p> + +<p>Bill was gratified, but not unduly moved. She +had a tolerably clear idea that her vocal tricks had +not much real value, and, as she wanted to get home, +she did not care to stay for more compliments.</p> + +<p>“You see, I have got to get back to Ashelton,” so +she concluded her explanation.</p> + +<p>“Ashelton?” Mr. Harborough exclaimed; “you +cannot get there till after three o’clock. You surely +do not mean to go fasting? You must not do that. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>You will perhaps give me the pleasure of your +company at lunch? Yes? You had better; they +will have eaten up everything by the time you get +home. Come, you must not say no; that song +deserves something more than a wander in the wood. +Little Miss Tucker sang for her supper,—no, for her +lunch. I promise that you shall not be late in +getting home, the carriage can take you as far as +you like on your return journey.”</p> + +<p>Bill was not troubled with many even rudimentary +ideas of propriety. The sandwiches were little more +than a memory, and, besides,—a reason which +influenced her most of all—if she accepted the invitation +she would see Wood Hall. Consequently +she did accept and, walking beside the chair, accompanied +Mr. Harborough to the house.</p> + +<p>What was it like? Bill sometimes tried to describe +it, but she never succeeded, and always ended by +saying: “If it were mine, I would never, never give +it up; I would fight for every brick of it, every +timber, every stone. I would sell everything to +keep it; it would break my heart to let it go after +it had belonged to my people for so many generations. +It is a house that is just weighed down with +years; I think it must be almost awful to have all +those years behind you.”</p> + +<p>It was with a hushed sense of the awe belonging +to a great house which had reached its declining +days that Bill entered the wide arched doorway. +She had said, as they came from the wood, how +much she wanted to see the big hall of local fame, so, +by Mr. Harborough’s orders, they went by the long +west front of the house. It was a great pile, built +of bricks which were neither purple nor red, the +tint which only the centuries can mix, with rows +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>of mullioned windows, set not too straight by the +hands of Tudor builders, and pressed yet more +aslant by the weight of time upon them. Above, +was a roof high-gabled, many-peaked, running this +way and that; below, stretching to right and left, +a terraced walk led to gardens where yew hedges and +pleached alleys recalled the days of hooped petticoats +and powdered heads, or even of older times when +the men of trunk-hose and mighty hand cast bowls +on the smooth turfed green. But everywhere was +decay; even the spring sunshine and the glad singing +birds could not destroy the sense of death and decay,—blistered +paint and lichened stone, sagging roof +and darkened windows, grass on the terrace, weeds +between the stones, unclipped hedges, and rose-walks +a tangle of thorns; and the great, sad, grand old +house looking down on it all.</p> + +<p>To this place Bill came, out of the spring sunshine +and the living air into the great hall. It +was not quite so great as tradition said, but still +of size enough to tempt some mad Harborough +of bygone days to try to turn his coach in its width. +Vast it was, with its dark walls hung with tapestry +rotten past repair, its polished floor, and its fireplace +where a man might well share the hearth +with the logs and not then be overnear the blaze. +Above the mantelpiece were the arms of the house, +the house that had seen its best days; the dragons’ +heads, deep cut in polished wood, grinned down +malignantly on the little intruder whom the Harborough +of to-day had brought from his woods. +She paused a moment, awed by the sense of past +greatness, by the weight of the years that lay behind, +by the thought of the stately women who had passed +that way before her. Then she went on, and as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>she went her light step gained a stateliness, her figure +a dignity which well became the place and made +old Harborough ask himself if the child had not +some good blood in her after all.</p> + +<p>He found himself pondering over the same +question again later on, for Bill, like most born +mimics, often unconsciously imitated those she was +with, frequently, without being aware of it, catching +her manner from theirs, sometimes shaping even her +speech and accent according to those of the person to +whom she spoke. Thus, as Mr. Harborough treated +her with an almost exaggerated courtesy, she returned +him the same, and, since she was keenly conscious of +the dignity belonging to the old house, she shaped +her behaviour in accordance with it. As for her host, +he was half surprised, half amused, the amusement +growing, however, as he led her to talk. Nobody +had found her conversation amusing before; Carrie +and Alice, though they sometimes laughed, more +often professed a contempt for her and all her +sayings, even while they half feared her many +mocking voices. Certainly no one had laughed at +her thoughts and replies; she could not herself +always see a reason for her host’s laughter, but it was +plain that he did. He was old, she thought, and +therefore easily pleased, lonely and therefore not very +critical; but his appreciation encouraged her, the +wine (the first she had ever tasted) excited her, and +she talked as she had never talked before, he leading +her on till she had bewitched herself:</p> + +<p>“I tried to amuse him a little while, poor old +man,” she told Polly meekly afterwards. “I really +owed him something for the good food he gave me. +Still, I think I did it more because I liked it than +for anything else.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>To which Polly, having but small opinion of +Bill’s powers of amusing, only made reply, “I dare +say.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Harborough, however, who had lived in +seclusion so long now that a small thing entertained +him, vowed, far on in the afternoon, that Bill was +the best of good company. In acknowledgment of +which compliment Bill swept him a curtsey, with +three fingers on her lips in the fashion of the china +ladies on Miss Minchin’s mantelpiece. Then she +said she must go home, and in so saying, it is to be +feared that the imp in her got the upper hand, +prompting her to the character she loved, for the +tone and manner of her words suggested Mr. +Johnson.</p> + +<p>Carrie and Alice did not like Bill’s mimicry, but +Mr. Harborough was otherwise, and he recognised +the original almost before Bill was aware of it herself.</p> + +<p>“I must come and hear that parson of yours,” he +laughed.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you?” Bill suddenly became serious. +“There is the Harborough chapel in Ashelton +church; what is the good of having a chapel all to +yourself if you never use it?”</p> + +<p>“I do not belong to the Church of England.”</p> + +<p>Bill remembered Miss Minchin’s words. “Oh,” +she began apologetically, but then a magnificent idea +occurred to her or to some spirit of mischief that +possessed her. She cast a quick glance at Harborough, +her eyes ablaze with light.</p> + +<p>“What is it now?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Nothing; at least, you would not do it—I don’t +believe you could.”</p> + +<p>“Try me,” he answered; “lay your commands +upon me and they are obeyed.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>“It is not a command; but it would be,—I should +like to see what would happen.”</p> + +<p>“In what case?”</p> + +<p>“If you had a service in your chapel. I don’t +know if you could, but I should almost think so; it +is your own; you could have a Roman Catholic +service there as well as we could have a Protestant +one in our part, couldn’t you? I should like to see +what would happen if you did!”</p> + +<p>“I should probably be prosecuted,” Harborough +said; “that is what would most likely happen.”</p> + +<p>Bill sighed. “I never thought of that,” she +said.</p> + +<p>“Did you not?” he answered. “Neither should +I if I wanted the service, or rather, wanted to see what +would happen.”</p> + +<p>“You would risk it?”</p> + +<p>“What will you give me if I do?”</p> + +<p>Harborough had little respect for either religion, +less still for his neighbours’ feelings. As for Bill, +neither thought occurred to her; the thing appealed +to her as many an act, incomprehensible to a man for +its folly or its wanton mischief, appeals to the superabundant +energy of boyhood. It was simply a +desire to see what would happen, a sporting appreciation +of an explosion with no realisation of consequences +painful to other people.</p> + +<p>“What would you give me?”</p> + +<p>“What do you want?”</p> + +<p>He hesitated a moment, and then said: “Come +and see me again, and we will talk it over.”</p> + +<p>She agreed readily: “Yes, if Theresa will let me.”</p> + +<p>“Theresa must let you.”</p> + +<p>Bill thought it was probable that she would and +said so, but Mr. Harborough, possibly judging from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>a wider experience, was not so sure and did not seem +content with the arrangement.</p> + +<p>“Why ask?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Because I must; she won’t mind.”</p> + +<p>“But supposing she does?”</p> + +<p>“She won’t; I shall be able to come.”</p> + +<p>“You think so? Then let us make this bargain: +if I do as you suggest, you will come once more to +talk over the terms.”</p> + +<p>“Very well; I will come once, she is sure to let +me; but when I come, supposing I don’t like your +terms, supposing they don’t seem fair to me, what +am I to do? Must I fulfil them?”</p> + +<p>He told her that she need not, laughing at her +caution, as a servant announced that the carriage was +waiting.</p> + +<p>So Bill took her leave and drove away in state, +though she did not think it necessary to complete +her journey in the Harborough carriage; in fact she +dismissed it at the entrance of one of the lanes and +went the rest of the way home on foot.</p> + +<p>“Did you have a nice walk?” Theresa asked +her young cousin when she met her at the door.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, glorious! I have had such a good +time. I went into Wood Hall, not the grounds +only, but the house too. You never saw such a +place; it is,—I can’t describe it.”</p> + +<p>“Into Wood Hall!” Theresa exclaimed in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I saw Mr. Harborough; he was ever +so kind, not the least like what you would expect—”</p> + +<p>And then out came the story of Bill’s adventures, +a brief and rather incoherent story with some things +left out and some told twice, and, naturally, no +mention of the surprise in store for the people of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>Ashelton. That was the only thing she intentionally +suppressed, but unintentionally she suppressed many +details and most of the conversation, though enough +was told to puzzle and disturb Theresa.</p> + +<p>“Bill, I don’t know what to say. I am sure you +ought not to have gone. I wish I had never let you +go that walk.”</p> + +<p>Theresa, completely astonished by Bill’s tale, now +for the first time realised the responsibility of her +charge. The charge herself had no idea of the +nature of her offence. “Ought not to have gone?” +she said. “Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Because—because you ought not. I wonder +you did not know; you should have known by +instinct.”</p> + +<p>Theresa’s sense of the enormity of Bill’s conduct +was increasing, but with it there was also increasing a +recognition of the difficulty of making it clear to the +offender; certainly if she depended on Bill’s instinct +she was not likely to be successful, for, as Polly had +rightly said, Bill possessed little of that in connection +with matters of social behaviour.</p> + +<p>“Well, for a moment I did wonder if I ought, +because, of course, I had on my old dress and the +place is so splendid.”</p> + +<p>“That is not the reason at all. You ought not to +have gone,—I mean, he should not have asked you. +He would not have done so if he had been a nice +man; he could not have done so properly.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes he did—”</p> + +<p>“I mean, he could not have asked you with +propriety. You know he cannot think you—did not +ask you as an equal; besides, you must have heard +about him, the sort of man he is.”</p> + +<p>“About his being bad? Miss Minchin did say +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span>that, and certainly he did say himself that he had the +devil’s bill to meet.”</p> + +<p>Bill did not think it wise to explain, in answer to +Theresa’s exclamation, that she herself had supplied +the expression. She let that pass and Theresa began: +“If you thought him all that—”</p> + +<p>“But I am not sure he is bad exactly; and if he +were, I don’t see what harm it would do. Besides, is +he bad? Of course I shouldn’t say he was good in +our sense of the word, but then there are so many +senses. He gave me the idea of being like a person +who had lost his taste for all except one kind of thing. +You can’t blame a person for not liking strawberry +jam when he can only properly taste peppers; I +should think, in a way, he could only taste peppers; +and I should not be surprised if he had tried them +very hot.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk nonsense, Bill,” Theresa said severely; +and Bill, acting on the suggestion, did not talk at all, +except when she explained to her cousin that she had +promised to go to Wood Hall once again. This +Theresa naturally forbade, absolutely refusing to permit +it on any condition whatever. Bill did not press +the point, nor go into too many details, for, as she +said to herself, “Perhaps he won’t do it, and then I +sha’n’t have to go after all.” If he did, it would be +then time enough to settle with Theresa, and arrange +some satisfactory compromise between breaking her +own word on the one hand and her cousin’s command +on the other.</p> + +<p>But would he do it? Bill wondered about it once +or twice during the week. Would he be able to get +a priest to read the service for him? She had a very +vague idea as to how he would set about it. He had +said something about knowing a man, and had smiled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>when he said it, not a very nice smile, but it looked +rather as if he thought the man would do as he was +asked. So Bill wondered, and the week passed +quietly.</p> + +<p>Sunday came, a still, peaceful spring day. April +was fairly in now, every bush and tree was waking to +the fact even in the grey weather. Sunday was grey, +quiet and calm, but a Sunday long remembered in +Ashelton. The congregation assembled in church at +the usual time, wearing the usual clothes, for it was +not yet Easter. There was nothing much to look at, +but from force of habit the congregation looked at +each other. Bill, from her corner seat, looked across +the old pews to the Harborough chapel. Was he +coming? The clock began to strike eleven. No, he +was not coming after all, he—was he?—she watched. +The small side door of the chapel was opened from +without and into the fretted twilight an old man +stepped—he had come!</p> + +<p>A great smile of satisfaction spread over Bill’s face; +a pleasant sensation of excitement and expectancy +took possession of her. To tell the truth, something +like a thrill of excitement ran through the whole +congregation, though they expected nothing, at least +nothing definite. Miss Minchin said afterwards that +she wondered what was going to happen when she +saw him come in, but then the saying came after the +event. At the time she certainly looked earnestly +enough to have seen anything there was to see, +though that did not amount to a great deal. Mr. +Harborough, attended by his manservant, entered; +the verger, who hastened forward for the purpose, +disposed of the servant in a side seat and shut the +master in the great front pew. The congregation +stared intently; Mr. Harborough stared in return +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>with the vacant stare of a superior being,—they +had always said he was very haughty; his eye met +Bill’s for a moment, and a faint smile of recognition +passed over his face, but the general public did not +notice it.</p> + +<p>The clock had ceased striking, and the first notes +of the organ filled the church with a soft vibrating +sound. Forth from the new vestry on the right came +the choir and clergy; forth from the old vestry on +the left, built originally for the sole use of the +Harborough chapel, came a priest with shaven face +set in a mask of stolid endurance. Bill, with the +wanton cruelty of youth, saw the enduring face, but, +not recognising its pain, felt no compunction, no pity +for the man forced by some threat he feared to a +task hateful to him. She felt nothing at all except a +thrilling excitement. For a moment the event was +all she had expected. All around her she could feel +the mute horror and astonishment of the congregation; +she could see it uncontrolled on their faces, so +comical, she thought, in their blank, speechless +amazement at this unparalleled conduct of the lord of +the manor. At the end of the aisle was the verger, +motionless, dumb; in their pews, the churchwardens, +alike dumb, incapable of action, watching, fascinated, +the rival clergy who, owing to the situation of the +altar in the Harborough chapel, were hidden from +each other’s sight by the wooden screen. No one in +the chancel knew of those in the chapel; no one in +the chapel showed any sign of knowledge of those in +the chancel; all knelt in silence. But as the last +choir-boy on the right rose from his knees, he leaned +a little forward and saw the priest beyond the screen. +His eyes grew round with astonishment; he almost +fell forward on his head in his eagerness to be quite +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>sure; then the situation struck him as it struck Bill, +and doubled him up in spasms of suppressed laughter.</p> + +<p>“When the wicked man turneth away from his +wickedness,”—Mr. Johnson began, at the same time +becoming aware of an unusual rustle and movement +among the hitherto spell-bound people.</p> + +<p>The priest should, no doubt, have begun to read +at the same time, but he did not. Mr. Harborough +apologised to Bill afterwards for the way in which he +failed in his part, for he hesitated and waited a +moment. In that moment the verger, a shrewd old +brickmaker, hastened up the aisle, and, without waiting +for orders from the churchwardens, delivered +some whispered information to Mr. Dane.</p> + +<p>There was a breathless pause; then low but +distinct came the voice of the priest,—“<i>Introibo ad +altare Dei</i>—”</p> + +<p>Miss Minchin started violently and looked about +her in an awed fashion. She had seen all that had +passed, but she hardly thought, as she said afterwards, +that he would really venture to hold a service in the +parish church. Mr. Dane passed quietly between the +slender pillars of the side screen and approached the +priest. A second whispered conversation, a glance, +possibly an appealing glance, at Mr. Harborough, and +Mr. Dane went on to him. Mr. Johnson, in the +absence of the rector, went on with the service, but +when Mr. Dane returned to his place he silenced his +curate with a glance, and the priest, either more +courteous or more sure of a hearing, did not attempt +to begin his reading anew.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane turned to the congregation. “My +brethren,” he said, “our neighbour, Mr. Harborough, +has expressed a wish to hear the mass read in his +chapel of St. Mary Magdalen. As the hour he has +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>chosen for the reading coincides with that of our +morning-service, and as both cannot be conducted +simultaneously in a seemly manner, I ask you to +wait with me while the reverend Father reads the +mass, which may God bless both to him and his +hearers.”</p> + +<p>No one left the church; to a man they stood by +their rector, though there were those among them +who had strong feelings and would have much liked +to enter a protest. The priest turned back to his +mass-book; his hands shook a little, for the rector’s +words had distressed him curiously; but Mr. Dane +composed himself to listen with quiet dignity.</p> + +<p>And deep hidden in the shadow of a high old pew +was one whose grief and self-abasement knew no +bounds. The event had not been what she had anticipated; +things looked quite different now.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII.<br> +<small>THE COURTSHIP OF HARBOROUGH OF GURNETT.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> can be no doubt that few things are so well +concealed as the perfectly obvious, no course of conduct +so little observed as that which is open to all +observation. If Bill had wished to conceal her doings +on Sunday afternoon she would probably have been +found out; since she was perfectly indifferent as to +who knew what she did, no one discovered it. If +she had been anxious for concealment she would have +gone to the rectory by way of the field-path, and +would inevitably have been seen by Miss Minchin +and catechised by her in due season. But, since she +was far too absorbed in other matters to care what +any one thought, she went by the public way and no +one knew it; no one, till Mr. Dane’s old housekeeper +admitted her and took her to the study where +Mr. Dane, but lately returned from a children’s +service at Ashelton End, sat before his beloved +piano.</p> + +<p>The rector of Ashelton knew every one in his +parish and, to a certain extent, all about every one; +consequently he knew of Mrs. Morton’s aunt and +sister and cousins in Wrugglesby. To be sure, he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>knew about them before Theresa was Mrs. Morton, +for Miss Brownlow was an institution of such long +standing that he, being also an institution of long +standing, could hardly fail to know of her. Still, +this knowledge did not give him much information +about Bill, of whom he only knew that she was a +niece of Miss Brownlow and a cousin of Mrs. +Morton. At one time he had tried to find out more +about her, though not from any personal interest, for +he did not know her even by sight then. It was on +account of her name that he had made the enquiries, +having good reason to remember the name of Alardy. +However, he could discover nothing to couple her +with the other Alardy, nor indeed had he been very +hopeful of discovering anything. It was the +familiarity of the name that had tempted him; and +it was this familiarity which caused him an almost +painful start when she was announced on that Sunday +afternoon. He did not know her, nor her business, +nor could he guess what it might be.</p> + +<p>Bill did not leave him long in doubt; her very +face betrayed her; there was about her whole manner +a contrition and self-abasement almost suggestive of +a dog in disgrace. “I have come to tell you I did +it,” she said, standing in the centre of the room; and +the old rector at once perceived that he was to hear +a confession, the enormity of which seemed terrible +to the offender.</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” he said kindly. “There is something +you want to tell me, something which seems +very bad? Let us hear what is the matter, and we +will see what can be done.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing can be done or undone.” She spoke +with absolute conviction. “I want to tell you in +case you should blame anyone else, and because I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>owe it to you,—that is the reason. The thing can’t +be altered now.” And then she plunged straight +into her confession. “It is about this morning’s +service. It was all my fault; I got Mr. Harborough +to have it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane had known the owner of Wood Hall +more years than he had known Ashelton. He was +considerably surprised by Bill’s confession, considerably +more surprised than he had been by the affair of +the morning.</p> + +<p>“You induced Mr. Harborough to have the mass +read?” he asked. “You? But why?—how?”</p> + +<p>“I thought of it,” she answered, “and,—he did it. +This is how it happened. I was in the wood, and +he found me and took me to the house to amuse +him a little while, and I amused him as well as I +could. It was rather like the daughter of Herodias +dancing before Herod, though I did not dance, he +did not ask me; but I sang and talked and pleased +him. It is true he did not ask me at the end what I +would like, but when I thought of this he half promised +to do it; and now,—he has done it.”</p> + +<p>“Then it was your idea? He did it to please +you, or rather because you asked him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it was my fault; he would not have done +it if it had not been for me. I suppose,” she added +doubtfully, “he hardly knew what it would be.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane had other opinions, but he only said: +“Perhaps we had better not consider his action in +the matter. I have known him long enough to be +tempted to judge him as one man is sometimes +tempted to judge another; but we will not do it. +Let us talk about you; you persuaded him, or at +least suggested the idea?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I suggested,—I did not persuade, I only +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span>suggested; but I had pleased him first so that he +was ready to do as I wished; it was almost as good +as persuading.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes were honest, but the rector was perplexed. +He could not quite understand the case; +the nature of the offence and the manner of the +committal were clear enough; but the nature of the +offender puzzled him. “Tell me,” he said, “what +made you suggest such a thing; why did you do it?”</p> + +<p>“I thought it would be—” Bill hesitated for a +word,—“not exactly fun, though still funny,—it was, +too, at first”; and in spite of her genuine penitence +a smile stole over her face at the recollection. “I +believe I wanted to see what would happen more +than anything else,” she concluded after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Were you satisfied with what did happen?”</p> + +<p>“No; oh, no, no! If I had thought of that I +would never have suggested it; I never thought about +hurting you or the poor priest. When I saw how +you took it, and how he hated what he had got to +do, I felt as if I should like to get up and tell Mr. +Harborough to stop. But it would have been no +use, I am sure,—I had done it and I could not undo +it.”</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered her very gravely, “no, you +could not.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence, and Bill for the +first time in her life faced the irrevocable. At last +the old man spoke again. “And it never occurred +to you,” he said, “that it would be painful to other +people? Tell me, did another and a higher consideration +never occur to you either?”</p> + +<p>“That it was irreverent? I did not think of it at +the time; now, of course, I know it was; but I +really did not mean to be, and I think God must +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>know. That is the best of it; you need never pretend +or explain to Him. He knows, but other +people,—I am very, very sorry.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane pressed that point no further; perhaps +the offender was beginning to explain herself to him +a little, and so he judged it unwise. He led her to +talk of the events which preceded her suggestion; +she told him all readily, the walk to Gurnett, the +ramble in the wood, even her own rapture when alone +there.</p> + +<p>“And to think,” she concluded, “that I should +have felt like that,—as if the whole world were holy—and +then, a little later think of such a thing!”</p> + +<p>“I know,” he said, “I know. The human mind +is a very strange thing, and evil thoughts, in spite of +what some people say to the contrary, are perhaps +the very strangest things which ever come there.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,”—and she drew a deep breath. “I was so +glad to be alive that morning,” she went on; “I was +glad about everything; I was fairly crazy with,—with +life I think. I can’t explain, and I am afraid +you don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>Did he not? It was a great many years ago, but +he too knew what it meant—life and the joy of +living, the wanton madness of youth. He understood +so well that he said little more about the act she +deplored but could not undo. Instead, he tried to +prepare for the future, and he prepared by asking +some few questions about the past, about life at +Ashelton, life at Wrugglesby with Miss Brownlow, +poor dear Miss Brownlow. And again she told him +readily, but her answers only deepened the wrinkles +in his forehead. She thought they were for her +wrong doings, but she confessed them all bravely, +including her enjoyment of the prayer-meeting.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>“I liked it,” she admitted, “because Mr. Johnson +was so fine when he talked about faith, the evidence +of the spirit, and the things which are not as they are, +and all the rest of it. I suppose it is wrong? I have +not imitated him very much yet; I will try not. +That is the chief reason why I liked the prayer-meeting +and why I went to the second one. There +was another reason,—I liked driving there. It was +such a splendid evening, one of those that make you +feel as if you would like to live for ever.”</p> + +<p>He ruffled his hair thoughtfully, and looked at her +with a still troubled brow.</p> + +<p>“You don’t understand?” she said, mistaking him. +“I don’t mean eternal life that we—that Mr. Johnson +talks about; but never to leave the world. It is +so beautiful, so,—so dear! I can’t”—and there was +almost a sob in her voice—“I can’t bear to think I +shall have to die and lose sight of it all; that the +thrushes will sing and I shall not hear them, the leaves +come and go, the suns rise and set, and I never see +them. It is sad to think how much I have lost +already, though inside myself I always feel as if I had +not really lost it, as if I had been there all the time +from the beginning and seen all the changes. You +know what I mean; you can learn lots about the past +but nothing about the future; nothing helps you +about that, and by-and-bye there will be, must be, +more earth-history—it does not seem possible that I +shall not know; I do not feel as if I could die!”</p> + +<p>She looked up, appealing almost passionately for +mercy on this first time that her soul had been +betrayed into words. Perhaps the old rector was a +lenient judge; his eyes were almost wistful as he +said half to himself: “And you are never ill, and +never tired.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>“I never have been.”</p> + +<p>“And you have not nearly enough to do—” he +was speaking solely to himself now—“God help you!”</p> + +<p>It is possible Mr. Dane thought this was a case for +man’s help also; at all events he did not dismiss it +with some brief fatherly advice and a blessing. He +talked to Bill as he had not talked before to anyone +in Ashelton; he, who, as it were, kept all on the +outskirts of his life, spoke of those things which were +the innermost shrine of his faith, the things which, +like the priests of old, he believed should be kept for +the initiated. And Bill was not initiated. Possibly +she did not quite understand him; but it did not +matter, she would do so some day. Possibly he did +not quite understand her; how should he with all the +gap of years between them? Nevertheless he treated +the girlish fancies delicately, almost as holy things.</p> + +<p>In the end he set her a penance, for, though a +believer in spiritual repentance, he also held that work +was very good for the soul; so for her wrong-doing +he set her a task, at least he said it was for that.</p> + +<p>“What shall I do?” she asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>“You know that long bed at the bottom of Mrs. +Morton’s garden? Dig it up. First pull up all the +weeds and burn them, then dig it up, dig deep, put in +manure and plant potatoes. I do not think Mrs. +Morton will object; I fancy she would let you do +what you like in her garden.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, oh yes, she won’t mind. I will begin to-morrow +morning; is there nothing else? I shall like +doing that.”</p> + +<p>“Do that first,” he said, and she promised, not +questioning his right to set her a task nor the fitness +of the one he set. In fact, so satisfied did she seem +with his wisdom that, just as she was leaving, she told +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>him of the promise to go to Wood Hall again and of +the difficulties attending it.</p> + +<p>“I promised,” she said, “thinking Theresa would +let me go, and now she won’t; but I must still go.”</p> + +<p>“You should not have promised;” and he looked +very grave.</p> + +<p>“But I have; I thought Theresa would not mind.”</p> + +<p>“She is quite right; nevertheless one must keep a +promise.”</p> + +<p>It is to be feared that here spoke the man dowered +with family tradition, and not the clergyman and +spiritual adviser. The sentiment, however, was one +which Bill understood. “Yes,” she said, “I must +go.”</p> + +<p>“But not alone,” he answered; “she must go with +you.”</p> + +<p>This Bill did not understand; she was also very +certain that Theresa would not agree, and proceeded +to explain the difficulty.</p> + +<p>“She would take you, surely she would drive with +you?” Mr. Dane persisted.</p> + +<p>But Bill shook her head. “She would say the +promise was wrong and could not be kept, and she +would think she was encouraging wrong by going; +that is her way of looking at it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane felt he was brought face to face with a +difficulty, but he only repeated firmly, “You must +not go alone.” Perhaps he could think of nothing +else to say.</p> + +<p>Fortunately just then Bill thought of a possible +way out of the trouble. “Do you think it would do +if Polly were to drive with me?” she asked. “Polly +is my eldest cousin. I should have to leave her +outside the house, but I would not be many minutes +gone.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>Mr. Dane did not know Polly, but he thought +she would do. He strongly recommended also that +she should, if possible, accompany Bill into the +house. Bill was not at all sure that Polly would do +this, and she was very sure indeed that she did not +want her to do it; however, she could not explain all +this to Mr. Dane in the time now at her disposal, so +she prepared to say good-bye.</p> + +<p>“There is one thing I should like to ask you +before you go,” said Mr. Dane, looking at her +thoughtfully as she stood by his chair. “It is about +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you if I can,” she answered, “but I +think I have already told you all there is to tell.” +Indeed, she had told him a great deal, far more than +she was aware of, but it was not quite what he +meant.</p> + +<p>“Your mother was Miss Brownlow’s sister?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the youngest, Kate; but I do not remember +her at all; she died when I was very little.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane looked at her thoughtfully. “I should +doubt if you were like your mother,” he said; “you +are not at all like your cousins, or Miss Brownlow +either.”</p> + +<p>“No, I am not like them; sometimes Polly says +I am like my father; but she did not know him, +and she only says it when she is angry. I don’t +think I can be like him really, except that I am dark. +He was dark, but then he was very clever and +fascinating; Auntie says he bewitched my mother, +so that she would marry him in spite of what they +all said. I believe they did not think him good +enough for her. I don’t quite know what he was; +he used to come sometimes to sing at the town where +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>she lived, but he was not a grand professional singer. +Some people said he was half a gipsy; he loved +wandering about.”</p> + +<p>“Do you remember him?”</p> + +<p>“Not clearly; he did not live long after my +mother; still I remember him better than I do her. +I can just remember going about with him, or at +least I think I can; it is difficult to tell which is +memory and which fancy, it is all so long ago. I +came to Auntie when I was very small.”</p> + +<p>“And remained there ever since?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, remained there ever since,” and she held +out her hand to him.</p> + +<p>He took it. “Good-bye,” he said, “good-bye, +little maiden. Do they call you Katie, too?”</p> + +<p>“No; Bill,—Wilhelmina.”</p> + +<p>“Wilhelmina!”</p> + +<p>Perhaps the other Alardy had been called Wilhelmina; +the old man’s face almost looked as if it +were so, or as if some ghost had sprung to life +at the name. But Bill did not see his face; for +a moment he stood in the shadow of the door, then +turned and went stooping into the dimness of the +passage; and she went onward down the road, +thinking only how she could compass to-morrow’s +visit.</p> + +<p>Polly was shrewd enough after her fashion, and if +she saw Mr. Harborough would, Bill felt certain, +find out more than was desirable concerning her +cousin’s share in the reading of the mass. Therefore +Polly must not set foot inside Wood Hall. Bill had +some respect for her shrewdness, though she was +depending on being able to outwit it when she said +she would get her chaperonage for the intended call. +“But I’ll get her,” Bill assured herself as she walked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>home that Sunday afternoon; and the chances were +that she would, for she was a tenacious little person, +and also, while much lacking in perception on some +points, she had an instinctive comprehension of character +which gave her a truer conception of the turns +and twists of Polly’s nature than either of the other +cousins possessed.</p> + +<p>On Monday morning Bill set to work to carry out +her plan. Her newly acquired mastery over the reins +was the first thing pressed into her service. She +would drive the old pony over to Wrugglesby, pack +some clothes she wanted, and bring Polly (Bella would +be giving music-lessons) home to Haylands with her +for the night. At first Theresa demurred, but Robert +only laughed at her fears; and finally Bill was allowed +to go, with Henry, the boot-boy, in attendance in +case of accidents. Bill accepted Henry’s escort to +Wrugglesby, but said he would have to walk back as +she intended to take Polly for a drive by herself. +Theresa demurred again, but Robert was on Bill’s +side; and finally, as might have been foreseen, Henry +walked back alone, while Bill and Polly went for +their drive.</p> + +<p>Not, however, before Bill had encountered another +obstacle, which presented itself in the attractive form +of Bella. Bella wanted to make one of the party; +she pointed out that there was room for her in the +pony-carriage, and that Theresa was sure not to +mind an extra guest for one night. Of course, in +the ordinary way it would have been impossible for +her to get out in the afternoon, but to-day it happened +that nearly the whole school was going to a +birthday party and there were only two music-lessons +to give. These two lessons were Bill’s salvation: +she and Polly would take their drive while Bella gave +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span>them; as soon as she had done she was to walk to +Sales Cross Roads, where they would meet her with +the pony-chaise at a quarter to four.</p> + +<p>The plan met with Polly’s entire approval; she +did not at all wish to waste the early part of the +afternoon waiting for Bella, and she was not troubled +with many unselfish scruples. When Bella inconveniently +said, “I think I could be at Sales Cross +before that,” Polly answered decidedly, “But we +cannot.” Whereupon the good-natured Bella gave +way, and, with matters at last satisfactorily arranged, +the other two drove away.</p> + +<p>Polly leaned back with great satisfaction; Bill had +borrowed a cushion from Theresa for her and she +appreciated it. “Really, Bill,” she said benignly, “I +should never have thought you would learn to drive +so well; you are quite getting on.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I have grown up any more?” Bill +asked.</p> + +<p>Polly looked at her thoughtfully. “I don’t think +you have developed much,” she said, after consideration. +Before she reached the end of her journey +that day she changed her opinion and came to the +conclusion that Bill had developed surprisingly, in +one direction at least.</p> + +<p>“We are going to Gurnett,” Bill announced, and +Polly, to whom one place was as good as another, +acquiesced.</p> + +<p>“We can easily get from there to Sales Cross to +meet Bella,” Bill went on to explain when they were +nearing the village. “I want to see some one at +Gurnett, or rather, just this side of it; we don’t go +through the village.”</p> + +<p>“Whom are you going to see? I will hold the +reins while you go in; I don’t care about going with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>messages to strange farms; there are always geese +and cows about.”</p> + +<p>Bill entirely agreed with this suggestion. “Yes,” +she said, “you must wait outside while I go in; I +won’t be long, not more than ten minutes I expect. +It is not to a farm we are going, though; it is to +Wood Hall.”</p> + +<p>“Wood Hall? Whatever does Theresa want +from there?”</p> + +<p>“Theresa does not want anything; I am going on +my own business. She does not know I am going, +and she would be very angry if she did.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Bill!”</p> + +<p>“But I have got to go all the same,” Bill continued, +ignoring the exclamation.</p> + +<p>“What about me? Pray, why should I allow it +if Theresa does not? I insist on hearing all about it +at once.”</p> + +<p>Curiosity as well as indignation prompted this +speech, which Bill proceeded to gratify to a certain +extent. “I will tell you as much as there is time +for,” she said, and there was not time for a great +deal. Polly’s explosions of righteous wrath, not so +judicial and certainly not so genuine as Theresa’s, +helped to shorten the narrative.</p> + +<p>“Well, Bill, I could not have believed it of you! +No, I could not, even if anyone had told me! I +know a good deal about you, it is true, but I should +never have expected—well—” Words failed, and +Polly took refuge in a superlatively expressive sniff; +she had brought the language of sniffs to a rare +perfection.</p> + +<p>But Bill was not at all impressed, and when +Polly asked with stern dignity, “Do you think +I, any more than Theresa, will allow you to go +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>to Wood Hall?” she answered, “You can’t help +yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t help myself, indeed!”</p> + +<p>“No, we are just there.” That was undeniably +true; they were in the drive and must soon reach +the house. “If you did not mean to come,” Bill +went on composedly, “why did you not say so before +we turned in?”</p> + +<p>“I did not notice.”</p> + +<p>Bill was politely doubtful. “Look here, Polly,” +she said, “what is the good of pretending? It is not +what things are that matters to you, it is how they look. +I am sure that this is quite right; you are not; but that +does not count, as you only want it to look right—”</p> + +<p>“Bill! You are a wicked girl. How dare you +say such things?”</p> + +<p>“I dare say them, and you dare think them,” Bill +retorted, vaguely aware that she must have outraged +the sense of decency again. At that moment a sharp +turn in the drive showed them the house just in +front, the chaise swayed to one side, for the ground +dipped suddenly down before it rose again for the +last little ascent.</p> + +<p>“I shall come in with you,” Polly said heroically, +as she gripped the sides of the chaise with a firm, +though nervous, grasp. “I shall not leave you—Bill, +do be careful how you drive!—not leave you in +spite of your conduct to me.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you will. You will wait outside, and think +how it can be made to look best.”</p> + +<p>“I shall do nothing of the kind!”</p> + +<p>“Then I shall frighten the pony and make him +run away. He won’t run far, but by the time you +get back here I shall have gone inside. Good-bye +for the present; I sha’n’t be long.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>Bill jumped out as she spoke, and the indignant, +though discreet, Polly took the reins and patiently +waited in the pony-carriage. Bill certainly had developed, +and developed, among other things, a painful +plainness of speech. This hurt Polly more than +anything else, for she believed in observing all the +decencies of life, in saying and seeming all that was +suitable to the occasion, even to a certain extent persuading +herself to feel it too. She always acted, for +herself if there was no other audience; she could not +help it, and the fact that there was not the least +chance of anyone being deceived did not deter her +from taking a part. More often than not people +were a little deceived; they believed in her more or +less, as she believed in herself. Bill did not, which +was her misfortune; but she said so baldly, and that +was her fault, a fault Polly found it hard to forgive +just then. “Yet,” Polly thought when she sat in +the chaise waiting and meditating on Bill’s development, +“she is proving to be rather as I expected; +she has twenty times the go of the other two, if only +one could make her sensible.” From which it may +be seen that Polly had a keen eye to the main chance, +and even in matters of personal affront sought first +a possible advantage; afterwards, if expedient, she +resented the annoyance. During the ten minutes +that she waited for Bill she had serious thoughts of +making common cause with that offender.</p> + +<p>Bill was as good as her word. Mindful of a limit +to Polly’s patience, she came to the point as soon as +possible, and asked what Mr. Harborough demanded +in return for fulfilling her wish. But he, not aware +of any urgent reason for haste, set the question aside +and asked instead if she had been satisfied with +Sunday’s comedy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>She did not think it a comedy; indeed, to tell the +truth, she was not quite sure what a comedy was; +certainly she had not been satisfied, but, as she +hastened to explain, that was not his fault. “It was +my own,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Your own, daughter of Eve? Dissatisfied as +soon as gratified? It’s the way with ’em all. Still I +own this affair did not turn out as well as it might.”</p> + +<p>“You did not expect it to be like that? Neither +did I; if I had thought—”</p> + +<p>“You would have chosen a day when the curate +was in sole command? It certainly would have been +better from a sporting point of view.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the vision of what might have +occurred in those circumstances flitted through Bill’s +mind, but she banished it and said gravely: “It +would have been funnier, I dare say, but no better; +worse, I think, for I should not then have found out +that it was wrong.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Harborough laughed, seeming to find a good +deal of amusement in the idea of Bill’s tardy conscientious +scruples; but on account, he said, of her +disappointment he asked nothing further of her, +saying that they would now cry quits to the bargain. +Bill was relieved, having been afraid he would lay +some fresh difficulty upon her; as it was, she felt +she had escaped easily, and prepared to make her +adieux with a light heart, explaining at the same time +that, as Polly was waiting outside, she must go at +once. The idea of Polly waiting outside also seemed +to amuse Mr. Harborough.</p> + +<p>“Dear me, how they have been talking to you!” +he said. “Bringing home the enormity of your conduct +to you with a vengeance! They won’t leave +me my unsophisticated little maiden long; good +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>women are great teachers of the ways of this wicked +world.”</p> + +<p>Bill scarcely understood him; still, she fancied he +was insinuating something against her cousin whose +words really had had no weight at all in determining +her action. “It was not exactly Theresa’s doing,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Not Theresa?” He laughed. “Yet you have +brought a dragon, a chaperone to watch over you. +You need scarcely have taken the trouble; I should +have done you no harm.”</p> + +<p>“They would not let me come alone.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder they let you come at all.”</p> + +<p>“Theresa would not; Polly could not help herself.” +Bill did not explain Mr. Dane’s share in the +matter, and Harborough did not ask it. “When +are you coming again?” was all he said.</p> + +<p>“Never.”</p> + +<p>“Never? Are you going to leave me all alone in +my desolate old age?”</p> + +<p>“They won’t let me come.”</p> + +<p>The old man’s tone had been but half serious, yet +as he spoke the extreme silence of the house suddenly +impressed Bill, the loneliness of the great room where +they two made an oasis of humanity in a desert of +shadowy memories. The polished floor stretched +around her, only quivering into life when she moved +and sent distorted reflections of herself along the +boards; the mirrors on the wall never waking till she +turned for them to cast back her brown face and +ruddy hair. Away at the far end of the room there +were chairs and cabinets, but they were too distant to +reflect her on their polished wood, too far off to have +any connection with this life. They belonged to the +folks who looked down from the walls. It was a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>wondrous house, a wondrous lonely house for an old +man who did not care for memories, whose taste, +vitiated by the hot peppers of his manhood, could not +appreciate the <i>pot-pourri</i> of the centuries that were +gone.</p> + +<p>“Could you not get someone else to come,” Bill +said at last, “someone belonging to you? You +haven’t got anyone?”—he had shaken his head and +she felt the case was a bad one till a happy idea +occurred to her. “Why not pay a girl?” she said. +“You could, you know; you could get one that way.”</p> + +<p>“For what would you undertake the post?”</p> + +<p>The question was asked with all gravity, but she +was not quite sure that he was in earnest. It would +be a good thing if he were, for this was work she +could do, and, since she had to earn her living, it +seemed much better that she should do it in this way +which fitted her small abilities. She glanced quickly +at him, uncertain what to answer. “Twenty-five +pounds a year,” she said at last, at a venture, naming +a sum which seemed to her exorbitant considering his +straitened circumstances.</p> + +<p>He smiled a little and shook his head. “Can’t +be done,” he said, and she prepared to reduce her +terms cautiously, but he explained the obstacles.</p> + +<p>“It is the aunts and cousins who are in the way, +my dear; if you were alone in the world we would +not quarrel as to terms.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but I could easily explain to them.”</p> + +<p>Bill was confident, but Mr. Harborough reminded +her of her confidence with regard to Theresa’s permission +to repeat her visit. She was forced to admit +his superior knowledge there, and to allow of its +possibility again, although it seemed foolish to carry +social objections into a purely commercial transaction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>“Believe me,” he said, “there are no terms on +which they would allow you to enter my service, +except the cover of my name.” She did not understand. +“If the salary were a marriage settlement,” +he explained, “they would permit you to take it, +and, under the name of Mrs. Harborough, they +would raise no objection to your accepting the post +of companion.”</p> + +<p>In spite of her disappointment at finding the offer +not a genuine one after all, Bill burst out laughing; +laughing principally at her own stupidity in taking +him seriously. Then she said: “I must go; Polly +will be tired of waiting.”</p> + +<p>“Laugh and go,” he said. “Do you laugh at +Wood Hall? I could—by Heaven, it is almost +worth doing!” he exclaimed with a sudden access of +energy. “There are some who would not laugh +then, my little brown elf.”</p> + +<p>He laughed himself at the idea, laughed softly +with a bitter spite in his eyes. Afterwards it occurred +to Bill vaguely that perhaps he really had +been in earnest, and that she was to have played a +part in some scheme of vengeance. But she never +seriously thought so, and at the time it did not appear +to her as anything but a jest. As such she laughed +again so that her merriment rang in the great room; +and she was still smiling when a minute later she +came out to Polly waiting in the chaise.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX.<br> +<small>“RED IS THE ROSE.”</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> four roads which met at Sales Cross were the four +which went everywhere in the district. “You can’t +go anywhere without going by Sales Cross,” said +Bella, basing her opinion on the number of people who +had passed while she was waiting for Bill and Polly +on that April afternoon. None of these travellers +were mentioned by name except Mr. Jack Dawson, +who could hardly be said to have passed since he was +still there when the pony-chaise came in sight. He +looked, too, as if he had meant to stay some time, +seeing that he had dismounted from his horse and +was standing, with the bridle over his arm, so deeply +absorbed in conversation that he did not notice the +approaching carriage. Bella explained later that he +got down to help her free herself from the long +bramble she had twisted round her ankles while +gathering primroses a few minutes earlier. From the +conversation which ensued between the two elder +cousins Bill gathered that Jack Dawson had had +something to do with Bella’s second Sunday afternoon +at Ashelton being less dull than the first.</p> + +<p>But she did not listen very attentively; Polly’s +eloquence had not much interest for her, especially +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>since, during the drive from Gurnett, she had settled +her own differences with her cousin, telling exactly +what she pleased of the doings at Wood Hall. +There had been a battle royal during that drive +conducted with a good many words, and, it is to be +feared, some vigour of expression on both sides. But +it had its advantages, it was the first time that Bill and +Polly had crossed swords as equals, and each understood +the other the better for doing so; also it gave +Polly a further indication that Bill was growing up,—“Though +not in the way we should wish,” as she +said to Bella with melancholy dignity. “No, Bella,” +she went on as her listener showed no signs of +distress at the news, “Bill is not a lady, and nothing +will ever make her one.”</p> + +<p>To which Bill agreed, adding: “I don’t believe I +have got all the instincts and so on, and I’m sure I +don’t feel things the way I ought. I suppose I have +got a little bad blood somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Somewhere!” Polly’s sniff was impressive. +“With your father—well! we need say no more.”</p> + +<p>“Considering what you have already said,” replied +Bill, “I think you need not.”</p> + +<p>Bella wondered what had been said, but she did +not hear, for soon afterwards they reached Haylands, +where Theresa declared herself delighted to receive +the two visitors instead of one. Later on, she heard +of Bill’s other doings, and with them she was not so +well pleased. She was distressed as well as angry +when she was told about the visit to Wood Hall.</p> + +<p>Polly had been much opposed to telling her anything +about it. “Leave it alone,” she counselled; “it +can’t be altered now. There will only be a great fuss, +and how shall I look for letting you go?”</p> + +<p>But Bill disagreed. It would not be honest, she said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>“None of it was honest,” retorted Polly; and +certainly the part she took upon herself was open to +question, although, no doubt, it was the one best +fitting the situation. “I thought it better to let her +go to-day,”—so she concluded a most able explanation +of affairs to Theresa. “You see, to-day I was +with her; another day she might have been alone. +She was certain to go, sooner or later, with or without +me,—she is so dreadfully obstinate—and so I +was determined that she should go under the most +favourable circumstances.”</p> + +<p>Theresa agreed, and blamed Bill severely; but +Bella remarked: “You stayed outside for her good, +I suppose, Polly?”</p> + +<p>“I stayed outside,” Polly replied with dignity, +“because she would not let me come in without a +scene.”</p> + +<p>The truth of this statement was obvious and effective. +Indeed Polly’s manner while at Haylands was +altogether effective; more especially when, on their +first arrival, they found Mrs. Dawson talking to +Theresa on business connected with the Church +Missionary Society. Mrs. Dawson had the cause of +missions very much at heart; she attended many +meetings and paid many visits in connection with it, +with what exact result to the cause no one knew, but +doubtless it was beneficial. The principal results of +the call on Theresa was entirely unconnected with +missions, being the postponement of Bill’s confession +for half an hour and the social opportunity afforded +Polly.</p> + +<p>Polly made such good use of the occasion that +Mrs. Dawson, a rather imposing personage, unbent +to quite a rare extent. She even hoped that Miss +Hains would be able to come to her tea-party next +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>day with her cousin, Miss Alardy. Polly regretted +she could not do so, since she was unfortunately +obliged to return to Wrugglesby in the morning.</p> + +<p>“And I really did regret it too,” she informed the +others when they were discussing Mrs. Dawson late +that evening; “I wish I had been staying on here.”</p> + +<p>“We could not both have gone,” said Bill, for +whom the invitation had already been accepted; +“there’s only the one skirt, you know.”</p> + +<p>“It is my skirt.”</p> + +<p>“But you have lent it to Bill,” Bella said; “besides +she is the youngest, and has never been to anything +yet.”</p> + +<p>Polly did not consider this a very valid argument, +though, as she said, it really did not matter since she +could not stay any longer at Ashelton.</p> + +<p>It was at bedtime that this discussion took place. +Bella was to sleep with Bill, and Polly had come into +their room to brush her hair and edify them with her +views on several subjects. The fact that she did so +in Bill’s presence showed plainly that she recognised +her as something like an equal.</p> + +<p>“I will tell you all about the tea-party,” Bill said, +feeling rather greedy in that the festivity had fallen +to her share.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but you will not be able to do as I +should,” Polly answered regretfully. “I made an +impression on Mrs. Dawson this afternoon; I should +go on making one if I were to see her again, a good +impression.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed irreverently.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be rude, Bill.” Polly’s manner was +momentarily that of an elder and teacher, but almost +immediately she dropped it and returned to the terms +of familiar intercourse. She at least possessed the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>merit of adapting herself quickly to altered circumstances +and relationships.</p> + +<p>“My dear girls,” she said, sitting down in the one +easy-chair the room boasted, “one has to make good +impressions, one never knows when they may be +useful.”</p> + +<p>“You have no use for Mrs. Dawson,” Bella said +quickly.</p> + +<p>“No, she does it to keep her hand in, for pure +pleasure and practice, and because she can’t help it. +She would try to make a good impression on us if +there were no one else.”</p> + +<p>This was Bill’s opinion, but Polly only said, “You +are a silly child,” and began to put her hair into curl-papers, +and at the same time giving the cousins her +views on many things, notably on matrimony. On +this subject she had very decided opinions which she +did not at all mind expressing with a degree of +frankness which shocked Bella.</p> + +<p>“You are horrid, Polly!” she exclaimed at last.</p> + +<p>“I have the courage of my opinions,” Polly retorted; +“I say what others think.”</p> + +<p>“They do not think such things.”</p> + +<p>Bill, who had hitherto paid small attention to the +conversation, debated this point in her mind as she +sat perched on the bed in her favourite position. “I +don’t believe people think much at all,” was her +conclusion.</p> + +<p>Polly told her that she knew nothing about it, but, +nothing daunted, she went on to explain herself, +“They don’t think; they do things because the +things come along, do them by instinct, or impulse, +or something; they don’t half know what will +happen. I am nearly sure they don’t think about the +before and after. Nobody can see the real beginnings +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>and ends, and some people don’t seem able to +see even a little bit to right and left,—I wonder why.”</p> + +<p>Neither of the elder cousins was prepared to go +into the question, Bella possibly because she herself +belonged to the class who cannot look before and +after, Polly, certainly because she wished to discuss +more practical matters. By way of putting an end +to Bill’s speculations she introduced the topic, +suggested by her previous remarks, of their own +future.</p> + +<p>“Say that you, Bella,” she said, “marry money,—”</p> + +<p>“I sha’n’t do any such thing!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well—” and then followed another exposition +of Polly’s views which Bill lost little by not +heeding. She had picked up the fairy-book which +she had taken to bed with her a few nights ago, and +had become too absorbed in its pages to hear what +Polly said until the mention of her own name arrested +her attention.</p> + +<p>“And what is to become of Bill?” said Polly, who +had by this time settled the future for the rest of +them.</p> + +<p>“There is the school she could help—”</p> + +<p>“The school!” said Polly disdainfully. “What +good would Bill be, what can she do?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” the culprit answered, before Bella +could speak in her defence. “It is quite true, I +should be of no use. I don’t know what I could do, +unless, perhaps, be a general servant; they are scarce +now, and I can work like a steam-engine. I never +get tired and I can get up ever so early—you should +just see how I can scrub and iron, and I can cook a +little too.”</p> + +<p>“You ridiculous child!” laughed Bella. “Do +you suppose we should ever let you do that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>“She might do worse,” was Polly’s opinion.</p> + +<p>“She could not do that,” Bella replied emphatically; +“neither Theresa nor I would allow it. And +Polly, you might as well say good-night now; we +want to go to sleep.”</p> + +<p>Polly took her candle, casting a grotesque shadow +of herself and her curl-papers on the low ceiling. +“Good-night,” she said with severity. “I am glad +you can sleep; I don’t find it so easy when I look +forward to what must happen.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t look,” Bill called after her, “except at +your candle; look at that, and mind you don’t spill +the grease.”</p> + +<p>None the less Bill lay awake a long time, thinking +not only of the future but also of the post which +might almost have been hers that day were it not +for the aunts and cousins. Also she thought of +Bella and her future, and from that she mentally +went to Jack Dawson, who appeared a very pleasant +sort of person, and to Mrs. Dawson, who did not, +though in Bill’s opinion she was an entertaining one. +At least she had thought so when she sat meekly +silent during the lady’s call that afternoon.</p> + +<p>On the next day she had another opportunity of +studying Mrs. Dawson, for that was the day of the +state tea-party which Polly had so deeply regretted +missing. Polly and Bella had gone back to Wrugglesby, +and Bill was left in undisputed possession +of the skirt. It was not new, neither was it in +the latest fashion, but Bill thought it very beautiful, +as she contemplated herself in her little mirror on +Tuesday evening. Of course one needed the best +clothes the family could muster for such an occasion +as the present; the tea-party at Grays, Mrs. Dawson’s +house, was really quite an important social function +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>besides being the first which Bill had ever attended. +She was somewhat impressed and tremendously +interested by everything, the solemn mahogany +grandeur of the bedroom where she and Theresa +took off their wraps, the spotless whiteness of the +linen covers of the stair-carpets, the giant hat-stand +by which Robert waited for them in the hall.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room was large; the main part of the +furniture dated from the Sixties, the wonderful blue +of the upholstery being unmistakably of that era. +But the sundry tides of fashion that have swept +through the land since then had left a few deposits +even in this conservative house: some peacock-feathers +and a silk-covered palm-leaf, a present possibly +in the decorative days; a small black table, +a relic of æstheticism; a rococo photograph-screen +of later date,—a few such things could be seen here +and there. “They were given to her,” thought +Bill gazing earnestly at the immovable black-silk +dignity of Mrs. Dawson; “they were given by <i>her</i>.” +This was Bill’s decision when her eye lighted on a +girl standing near the hostess. The girl was tall +and muscular, turned four and twenty, athletically +built, and dressed in the fashion of the day, the +fashion which obtains in Ealing and similar exclusive +suburbs. Her face, it is true, did not express much, +but then other people’s faces do not as a rule express +much, and she naturally did not wish to do anything +but what everyone else did. She was doubtless an +expert at lawn-tennis and hockey, and an authority +on the technique of golf. Probably she thought her +aunt at Ashelton much behind the times, though, as +she informed her friends, she liked staying with her: +“It was such a deliciously unsophisticated place still.”</p> + +<p>Bill looked at her with interest and at first with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>some admiration, for to her inexperienced eyes Miss +Gladys Dawson was a new and fine specimen of +humanity. Miss Gladys Dawson looked at Bill only +with a careless curiosity, she found her a little odd, +and wondered why she had never seen her at +Ashelton before. She also (and here came in the +insult) looked at the skirt. A light blazed up in +Bill’s eyes, a light that was almost like a red flame, +and there rose in her heart a great wrath and a +feminine desire to pay back the offence, to criticise in +some way the offender and bring ridicule on her. +Bill had never felt the sentiment before, being in +the main indifferent to opinions of all sorts. Miss +Dawson’s glance on herself would have passed +unnoticed; she cared nothing for criticism and had +a very poor opinion of herself,—but the skirt was +another matter, Polly’s cherished skirt which she +had made with so much labour out of two old silk +dresses of Miss Brownlow’s! Bill felt that the look, +half amused, half supercilious, wholly, indescribably +feminine in its critical survey, was an insult to the +absent Polly and cried aloud for vengeance. “I +wish I could do something,” she thought vindictively. +“I wonder what she would mind most.”</p> + +<p>It was now six o’clock, and there was a general +move to the dining-room for tea. Mrs. Dawson +had always dined at two and taken tea at six, +and she always would do so as long as she was able +to dine and take tea at all. She made no difference +for visitors, except in the quantity of food prepared, +and in that respect she certainly planned lavishly. +The table that night was loaded with the dainties +which have gone out of fashion with six o’clock +teas. Bill noticed everything carefully, trying to +remember all she could for the sake of her absent +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>cousins. There was a wonderful table-cloth, she +observed, of fine unbleached linen whereon drab dogs +hunted drab stags over a greyish ground much +interspersed with drab trees whose leafy branches +met in the centre of the table and were hidden +under the pot of a pink azalea. Arranged everywhere, +almost crowding each other off, were cakes +both hot and cold, so many of them that Bill could +not taste them all. There were also several preserves, +notably one of pineapple, very sticky, very difficult +of manipulation, inspiring one (if that one were Bill) +with a desire to take the pot and a spoon to the +store-room and eat in comfort unobserved. “It +wants practice,” Bill decided as she watched the ease +with which Mr. Johnson, who might reasonably be +expected to have had practice, managed the pineapple. +“I expect he has been here heaps of times +before,” she thought, and no doubt she was right +for he seemed much at his ease. Mr. Perry, on the +other hand, was never quite able to forget the +grocer’s shop when he sat down with Mrs. Dawson; +he talked nervously and rapidly all through the meal, +forgetting his tea in his anxiety to be polite, and remembering +that he wanted a third cup when everyone +had finished and the tea-pot was dry. Bill felt sorry +for Mrs. Dawson when she saw her pouring tepid +water through the tea-pot so as to supply the late +comer, sorrier still for Mr. Perry when he received +his large shallow cup and made manful efforts to +drink its contents while the guests waited for him.</p> + +<p>Bill sat next to Mrs. Johnson, a placid matron, not +much given to general conversation; and as she +returned becoming answers to the few remarks made +to her, she was voted by her neighbour to be “a +nicely brought-up girl.” Gladys Dawson, of course, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>was different; being older, and “from London,” she +was expected to talk, and she did do so; in fact she +took the lion’s share of the entertainment upon herself. +Mrs. Dawson was not averse to this, but, as Bill noticed, +neither was Gladys. “She likes it,” thought the silent +watcher; and there came into Bill’s mind, by reason +of the insult offered to Polly’s skirt, a desire which is +a natural instinct in most of her more developed sisters,—the +desire to outshine the other woman.</p> + +<p>“It would not be easy,” Bill thought, feeling that +she did not know much about the subjects of greatest +interest to the ladies present; but then, as she soon +found, Miss Dawson did not either, and so wisely +confined herself to entertaining the men. Bill did +not feel very hopeful of her own powers in that +direction, and before she could make any definite +plans her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Dane’s +entrance into the drawing-room to which everyone +had now returned. Mr. Dane never joined these +parties till after tea, on the excuse of parish-work. +After the little disturbance created by his entrance +had subsided, and he had shaken hands with everybody, +Bill found that he had taken the chair next to +her. She knew that he wanted to hear if she had +been to Wood Hall, and she was quite ready to tell +him. It was easy enough to do this unnoticed in the +buzz of general conversation; and accordingly she +told him how she and Polly had driven to Wood +Hall, how Polly had waited outside, and how Mr. +Harborough had laid no fresh conditions upon her. +This was all very well, but it was not so well when +she went on to talk of Mr. Harborough’s loneliness, +and so, incidentally, of her suggestion of a paid companion, +and his offer of the post to herself. “Of +course he did not mean it really,” she concluded; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>“it was only in fun, but for a moment I thought he +meant it.”</p> + +<p>“What made you think he did not mean it?”</p> + +<p>“What he said afterwards;” and she related all that +followed. “He meant he would have to marry me before +they would let me come,” she said, laughing a little.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Dane did not laugh. “Yes, marry him,” +he said, “marry him for Wood Hall, for his name +and position,—would you do that?”</p> + +<p>“I did not have the chance; he did not ask me +really; it was all fun.”</p> + +<p>“Have you told your cousins of the fun?”</p> + +<p>The old man was looking earnestly at her, waiting +for her answer, and she hesitated before she gave it. +She plainly heard Mrs. Perry saying, “I never had a +sitting of eggs from the Possets turn out badly,” +before she said, “No, I have not told them.” And +she wondered why she had not, and why she never +would, for she knew then that she never would.</p> + +<p>“If he had meant it, would you have taken him and +Wood Hall and the name, and the little you know, +and the infinitely more which you do not know?”</p> + +<p>“No,” she answered frankly. “I would like +Wood Hall immensely; I would do a good deal for +a place like that—I don’t believe I would be too +particular what; but I could not marry him. I could +not marry anyone; I could not possibly be cooped +up with one person. I believe I would like more +than anything else to be a gipsy and wander from +place to place, mending chairs and stealing fowls.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane did not reprove the lax morality of this +speech; all he said was: “Then I suppose you are +never going to see Mr. Harborough again?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Bill, and as she did so Mr. Johnson, +who had caught the name, tried to draw his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>rector into a discussion of Sunday’s enormities. But +Mr. Dane would not be drawn; he was polite, but +firm and most uncommunicative. The only opinion +he would give was that he believed Mr. Harborough’s +proceedings were not actionable, since he himself had +given consent for the mass to be finished.</p> + +<p>“But I am sure we could prosecute,” Mr. Johnson +persisted. “I was speaking to Stevens,—Stevens of +Wrugglesby you know—about it; he says it is quite +possible to prosecute for brawling and creating a +disturbance in church during divine service, if for +nothing else.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt he is right, but I do not think the +churchwardens will wish to prosecute. The case +would offer several nice points to a lawyer, for, though +the mass was begun without our permission, and so +was technically a disturbance, the offence was partly +condoned by the permission to continue which was +afterwards given. Moreover, though our church is +of course a church of England as by law established, +the Harborough chapel is held on a very old tenure +which it would be necessary to understand clearly +before any move could be made in the matter. I +don’t mean to say we could not prosecute: I dare say +we could; but I hardly think it is necessary. What +do you think?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson almost thought it was, on account of +the precedent: “Solely on account of the precedent; +it might occur again.”</p> + +<p>“I do not think it will,” Mr. Dane answered, just +in time to prevent Bill declaring the same thing +warmly. Then someone began to sing and they all +listened, placidly or otherwise according to their +natures. When the song was over, Bill, finding Mr. +Johnson’s attention diverted elsewhere, turned to her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>neighbour for information on a subject which had +puzzled her since her first visit to Wood Hall.</p> + +<p>“You know all about this part of the country,” she +said. “Perhaps you can tell me if it is true that a +good many years ago a body was carried by night from +Corbycroft to the little church in Wood Hall park.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, certainly it is true; but what makes you +ask? Who has told you of it?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Harborough, but he did not say much; is it +a secret?”</p> + +<p>“No, oh no; some of the old folks at Gurnett +still tell the tale, though there are not many now who +can tell much except from hearsay. It was not much +talked about at the time, and is pretty well forgotten +now.”</p> + +<p>He spoke as if the subject had long lost its interest +for him, but to Bill it was all fresh; she felt that her +romance was becoming exciting again. “Who was +it?” she asked. “Who were they going to bury?”</p> + +<p>“Roger Corby, the old Squire he was called, +though he was not squire of Gurnett. He died at +Corbycroft, and he died very much in debt. His +servants and—and some other people believed that +his body would, according to a barbarous old +practice, be arrested for debt, so they removed it by +night to the church in Wood Hall park.”</p> + +<p>“And was it arrested?”</p> + +<p>“No, and I do not believe there was any likelihood +that it would have been. Long ago bodies +were sometimes arrested, legally or illegally,—I do +not know which—but so late as that—it was in 1833—it +was more than improbable.”</p> + +<p>“But they must have believed it,” Bill objected; +“they must have thought it would happen.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but the servants were ignorant, and the girl, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>the Squire’s granddaughter, was a child of thirteen, +headstrong, daring, imaginative; she heard the +servants’ chatter and believed it. The thing was +practically her doing. She was fond of her grandfather, +and there was no one to take charge at his +death; her father was abroad and she and the old +butler managed everything. She always did as she +liked, and grew up as she pleased, with no one to +thwart her.”</p> + +<p>Bill wondered if Mr. Dane had known the granddaughter, +or if this too was only part of the local +tale; she would have liked to ask him but thought +that perhaps she ought not, as the last words scarcely +seemed addressed to her. She contented herself with +inquiring, “Did you live here then?”</p> + +<p>“No,” he roused himself with an effort. “No; +I was not born in this part of the country and at that +time I was a lad at school; a little lad I must have +been, for I am younger than Harborough.”</p> + +<p>“And he? Did he know at the time? How old +was he then?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he knew; he must have known, for he was +at home when the thing happened.”</p> + +<p>There were more questions Bill wanted to ask, but +she was not able to do so for at that moment Miss +Dawson’s well-trained soprano informed the company +that she was “a monkey on a stick.”</p> + +<p>By the time she had reached the end of her song +Mr. Perry had claimed the rector’s attention, and +Bill was left to meditate on the half-told story until +Mrs. Dawson asked her with awful politeness for a +little music. Theresa had warned her that this would +occur, telling her to bring her music in anticipation. +Bill had obediently brought it, making up her mind +to play one of her pieces if required, but now when +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>the time came she did no such thing. She cast a +quick glance at Miss Dawson, who was now talking +to Gilchrist Harborough, and thinking of the covert +sneer at Polly’s skirt, went to the piano in no very +Christian frame of mind. “I can sing as well as +you,” was the defiance she mentally hurled at the +young lady as she sat down to the piano and began +to play from memory, or, more correctly speaking, +by ear from some half forgotten melody. It was +curious music, at first compelling attention by its +strangeness, afterwards holding it by a charm of its +own,—a love-song of long ago, low, yet with an +almost harsh refrain in it, vibrating with a passion at +first suppressed, but afterwards breaking forth into a +tumult of emotion likely to tingle strangely in the +nerves of those who listened.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Red is the rose thou hast bound in thy hair,</div> +<div class="indent">Redder thy lips, love.</div> +<div class="verse">Soft is thy breath, aye, the sweetest of air,</div> +<div class="indent">Incense to me, love;</div> +<div class="verse">E’en though it choketh the voice of my prayer,</div> +<div class="indent">(I pray not now, love.)</div> +<div class="verse">Stars are thine eyes,—ill stars some declare,</div> +<div class="indent">Beacons to me, love.</div> +<div class="verse">Oh, heart of my heart, I want nought but thy beauty,</div> +<div class="indent">Of here and hereafter, I ask only thee!</div> +<div class="verse">Sinner or saint, thou art God of my worship,</div> +<div class="indent">In time and eternity Heaven to me!”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>Silently Mr. Dane rose and went out of the room, +closing the door noiselessly after him. At the time +Bill’s astonished audience hardly noticed it; afterwards +it was said by some of the more severe that he +went out to mark his disapproval of the tone and +tenor of the song, which was certainly most unbecoming +in a young girl. This may have been the +case; it obviously was not because his Christian +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span>forbearance and courtesy were tried beyond endurance, +as sometimes happened, by false notes, for to +a musician the rendering of this song left little to be +desired. Whatever the reason, Mr. Dane left the +drawing-room, and passing through the hall went +out by the open garden-door, out into the sweet +spring night where the song could not reach him. +His lips moved once as he went:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“If God in His anger hath shut thee from Heaven,</div> +<div class="verse">Then closed on us both let its golden gates be.”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>And the strange thing was that these words did +not occur in the first part of the song which he had +heard, but in the second part which he did not +hear, and of which Bill was now singing the last +verses.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Dark is the future, dark as despair,</div> +<div class="indent">Dark as thine eyes, love.</div> +<div class="verse">Cursed is our troth—for curse dost thou care?</div> +<div class="indent">Curse of the church, love?</div> +<div class="verse">Death and dishonour, e’en both we must dare,</div> +<div class="indent">Fearest with me, love?</div> +<div class="verse">Fearest to love me? Yet still thou’ll not tear</div> +<div class="indent">Thyself from my heart, love.</div> +<div class="verse">Now and henceforward, forever thou’rt there,</div> +<div class="indent">Nor can’st thou go, love.</div> +<div class="verse">Oh, soul of my soul, if damned is thy beauty,</div> +<div class="verse">Then damned be my spirit forever with thee!</div> +<div class="verse">If God in His anger hath shut thee from Heaven,</div> +<div class="verse">Then closed on us both let its golden gates be!</div> +<div class="verse">For thou, oh, beloved, art the God of my worship,</div> +<div class="verse">In time and eternity Heaven to me!”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>And between the box-edged borders, where drooping +daffodils glimmered in the moonlight, an old +man stood and murmured in the ghostly, tearless +upheaval of some dead passion:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Thou, oh beloved, art the God of my worship,</div> +<div class="verse">In time and eternity Heaven to me!”</div> +</div></div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X.<br> +<small>IN THE GARDEN.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Doubtless</span> the ladies of Ashelton were right in +saying that the song sung by Bill Alardy at Mrs. +Dawson’s tea-party was most unsuitable and highly +improper. It was not only the words, though, as +was pointed out, they were reprehensible, but also +the terrible earnestness with which they were sung. +Ashelton was justly shocked, and Theresa, although +agreeably surprised by the unexpected richness of her +cousin’s voice, was overcome with shame. Even +Gladys Dawson, who was naturally beyond old-fashioned +prejudices, looked at Bill with something +more intelligent than her previous stare. Gilchrist +Harborough, sitting by Miss Dawson, remembered +the words spoken by Morton that Thursday night; +the “little girl” certainly could “sing a capital song” +of a sort.</p> + +<p>But he did not remark on it to Miss Dawson; +indeed he seemed to have forgotten all about her, +and looked across to the singer, who had twisted +round on the piano-stool and now sat uneasily +regarding the company with a comical mixture of +fear and defiance in her eyes. She was painfully +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>conscious of their feelings, though not entirely able +to understand them. She was both surprised and +angry at the unexpected storm she had raised. Her +eyes met Harborough’s; he at any rate was not +shocked; he understood, he was even a little amused. +Bill’s face began to clear, and the tantalising chameleon +eyes changed. Miss Dawson addressed a remark to +the young man, and receiving no reply, glanced in +the direction where his interest obviously lay. Bill +saw the glance and experienced a two-fold gratification; +one person in the room sided with her, and +another (she who had sneered at Polly’s skirt!) was +annoyed thereby. Her face cleared entirely, and her +eyes absolutely shone. The mischief was done.</p> + +<p>Somehow or other, Bill did not quite know how, she +found herself soon afterwards talking to Harborough, +about the song and about all manner of other things. +It was quite easy to talk to him, though he seemed a +grave sort of young man given to taking things +seriously, so seriously that it was rather strange he +should approve of the song. He asked her where +she had learned to sing it, and she told him she did +not quite know. “I found the verses written out,” +she said, “and I think I must have heard them sung +when I was young. Perhaps my father sang them; +I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“You sang as if you meant it,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“So they should be sung.”</p> + +<p>“But you have not felt that; you don’t know +what you were talking about.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” she agreed readily, “it is all pretending; +but that does not matter; one can pretend +anything. Almost it feels sometimes,” she went on +thoughtfully, “as if one had felt it in another first +life; don’t you think so? Or perhaps it is that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>those who went before—the mothers and fathers and +grandfathers—felt it and passed the memory on.”</p> + +<p>Harborough shrugged his shoulders. “That is an +old problem,” he said, “which does not trouble me +much. I never think about my ancestry as you seem +to; I find enough to do without seeking for the grip +of the dead hand.”</p> + +<p>“Some people do not have to seek for it,” Bill +answered. She was thinking of the Harboroughs of +Gurnett. “Have you ever been to Wood Hall?” +she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>“No; I have ridden past it once or twice, but I +have not had occasion to go in that direction often,—why?”</p> + +<p>“You know there are Harboroughs there,—people +of your name?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, possibly distant connections; I have heard +my father say that his people came originally from +this part of the country. But I am not proud of the +fact, if it is one; they appear to have been a pretty +bad lot.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Bill admitted, “and they are poor, desperately +poor for the position: at least, so it is said, +and certainly the place looks like it. Still they have +been there for hundreds of years.”</p> + +<p>“What the better are they for that? Nothing, I +should say, seeing that each generation seems to have +been worse than the previous one, till we come to the +present, last and worst, bankrupt alike in means, +morals and constitution, played out, worn out, done +for,—and a good thing too.”</p> + +<p>“It is the grip of the dead hand,” Bill said with +conviction, and when he looked at her, doubtful +as to her meaning, she explained: “They have an +awful lot against them; the fathers have eaten sour +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>grapes, and the children have not much choice left +them.”</p> + +<p>“Much income, you mean.”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t, though they have not very much of +that either. I believe the estate is mortgaged, but so +are their natures and characters; they could hardly +go straight if they would. Think what it must be to +have all that weight of tradition and fathers’ sins +pulling against you.”</p> + +<p>Harborough was not convinced. “Most of us +have as many ancestors as have the great people of +Gurnett,” he said, “yet some of us seem capable of +independent action.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t know about them; that makes a difference. +We have not got them, in a way, stored up +as the Harboroughs have. If you had been into +Wood Hall you would know what I mean.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think the next Harborough is bound +to go and do likewise?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know him,” Bill said; “but I think he +has a bigger chance of doing likewise than you +have.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; because if I believed I was doomed to be +the same kind of blackguard as my ancestors I should +blow my brains out.”</p> + +<p>Bill looked at him gravely. “You wouldn’t +really,” she said; “because you would not be as +you are now if you were one of them. I wonder +how nearly you are related?”</p> + +<p>“What does it matter?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,—unless you could claim Wood Hall.”</p> + +<p>“I am generations away from that,” he laughed; +“and I don’t want to be any nearer.”</p> + +<p>“You are not a Catholic? No? I wonder if the +owner of Wood Hall must be?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>“Certainly not; a man’s conscience is his own.”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded. “And his family?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Have nothing to do with it; a man has a right +to his own opinion.”</p> + +<p>Harborough spoke warmly: he almost looked as +if he defied Bill to defend the position; but she only +said: “A woman is better off then; she has a right +to two opinions,—her own and that of the person she +is with.”</p> + +<p>“That is scarcely the point,” Harborough said; but +he did not get her back to the point, for she would +have no more serious discussion; either her ability or +her interest was exhausted. Harborough, whose bent +of mind was habitually grave, tried in vain to bring +the conversation back, and was half amused, half +vexed by her evasions. He was certainly wholly +vexed when Miss Dawson, from the ottoman, introduced +the labour-problem as a subject likely to +interest him.</p> + +<p>Bill perceived the vexation and was amused. If +she had been truly feminine she would probably have +been gratified; but her nature was lacking in some +of these girlish characteristics, and though she was +pleased by the annoyance of Gladys, her enjoyment +partook more of the pleasure of vengeance than of a +womanly appreciation of pre-eminence. She was glad +to have avenged the insult offered to Polly’s skirt, +but she had no other feeling about it. She certainly +never thought of Gilchrist; by the next morning, +when she set about her penance in the garden, she +had forgotten all about him.</p> + +<p>She enjoyed the penance immensely. It was hard +work in the open air and there was something to +show for the labour; moreover, it appealed strongly +to her, for it was a clearing up and setting straight +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>with the prospect eventually of a productive yield. +She had already made plans for the improvement of +other parts of the garden when the long bed should +be finished. There was plenty of room for improvement, +for the garden seemed to be nobody’s business; +Robert was not interested in it, and Theresa,—more +because she had never been used to doing so than for +any other reason—never thought of working in it.</p> + +<p>“She does not like digging and she hates worms,” +Bill said. “You would not expect T. to grub out +here; besides, she has work in the house.”</p> + +<p>This was said to Gilchrist, who apparently had not +entirely forgotten her existence, whatever she may +have done with regard to his. At all events, when +he saw her from the footpath which crossed the field +beyond the garden, he came to enquire how she was +and what she was doing. She told him her intentions +with regard to the plot of ground on which she was +engaged, but she did not cease work to do so.</p> + +<p>He watched her half amused. “I wonder Morton +did not set one of the men to dig this for you,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Why should he? I can do it well enough.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he admitted, “but it is hard work for you.”</p> + +<p>“Work,” she replied oracularly, “is an excellent +thing. You yourself believe in the dignity of +labour.”</p> + +<p>“Who told you that?” he asked reddening +slightly.</p> + +<p>She had stooped down and was wrestling with a +giant worm as yet but half above the soil. “Don’t +you believe it?” she inquired. “Out you come—” +this was addressed to the worm—“you’re not going +to stop here, come along now!” It came, and she +threw it over the iron fence to find a new home in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>the field. “This is the dignity of labour,” she said +as she returned to her work.</p> + +<p>There was very little dignity about the small, +hatless figure on the deeply dug plot. Bill had a +great faculty for putting trade-marks of her occupation +on herself and clothes; labour she might +represent, but dignity never.</p> + +<p>Harborough laughed a little; it was impossible to +know when the girl was in fun and when in earnest. +“Mrs. Morton will have a lot of potatoes if your +crop is a good one,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but they’ll keep,—besides, she can bring +them to Wrugglesby for us if she likes. There is an +awful lot of waste in this garden; one could grow +heaps of things—it does seem a pity. While I am +here I am going to try what can be done with it.”</p> + +<p>“In the way of growing potatoes?”</p> + +<p>“All manner of things. I don’t know much about +it, but I’ll find out; there is a book about gardening +here, and Mr. Dane has got another, a big one, I saw +it in his bookshelf. I expect you know a good lot.”</p> + +<p>She stopped work for a moment as the idea +occurred to her, then went on again with it and her +questions at the same time till Harborough soon +found himself giving information on the subject of +fruit and vegetable culture; flowers did not seem to +enter into the girl’s consideration at all.</p> + +<p>“Some grow themselves,” she said of them, “and +there are heaps of wild ones to be got. I would see +about flowers afterwards; the other things must +come first.”</p> + +<p>“But,” Harborough objected, “in such a garden +as this it would be possible to grow many more +eatables than Mrs. Morton could use; surely it +would be better to devote the surplus time and room +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span>to flowers. Unless,” he added slily, “you think the +other vegetables could be brought to Wrugglesby like +the potatoes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes,” Bill admitted, “some could, and the +rest could be sold.”</p> + +<p>“To whom? Believe me there is no profit +attached to market-gardening on a small scale; your +profits would not pay your freight to London.”</p> + +<p>“I should not send them to London.” Bill was +at the end of the row now, and Harborough had +moved farther along the fence to keep even with her. +“I should take some in the light cart to Wrugglesby +and sell to people who had no gardens, and some I +should take to Darvel. It is rather a long distance +off, but it is quite a big town with barracks and lots +of houses without gardens. People with things to +sell come to our house in Wrugglesby like that; at +first we did not buy much, but now we have a good +deal from them—that is how it would be with me. +I should sell rabbits too, I think, and fowls and eggs; +Theresa does not half make them pay.”</p> + +<p>“I fancy she would raise objections to your making +them pay in that way.”</p> + +<p>Bill was forced to admit that such a thing was +probable. “Still,” she said, “if it was really right I +might do it all the same if I lived here; I could easily +get round Robert. But I don’t live here, so I am +afraid there is an end of the matter.”</p> + +<p>Harborough watched her curiously for a moment. +“You don’t appear to suffer from any class-prejudices,” +he observed.</p> + +<p>“What are they? Do you mean I don’t mind +what I do? If that is it, I don’t; why should I? +Do you?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>The question was superfluous, he thought, for did +not his manner of living demonstrate his theory to +Bill as to everyone else?</p> + +<p>“You work your own farm,” she said, so she +evidently knew, “and I should work my own +cabbage garden. We should not make big profits, +but we should make enough to live on with what we +grew for ourselves, and we should enjoy ourselves at +the same time.”</p> + +<p>“You would like it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, very much. I do not mean I should do it +if I were rich. I should find some other work then; +there is sure to be some belonging to being rich; but +if I were not rich, only rich enough to have a farm or +a cabbage garden, I should work them like that.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder if you know what real work is?”</p> + +<p>The remark was more speculation than question, +and seemed to emanate from a different and much +older being. Bill was not piqued, for indeed she +regarded him in the light of a different and older +being.</p> + +<p>“I have not done much,” she said, “but I mean +to get this garden a little straight before I go back to +Wrugglesby.”</p> + +<p>“If you don’t get tired of it first.”</p> + +<p>“I sha’n’t do that; you can come every morning +if you like, to see if I am at work or not.”</p> + +<p>This was something of a challenge. Harborough +at first had not intended accepting it, yet, since on +the next day circumstances caused him to come home +at mid-day by the field-path, he thought he might as +well see if the girl was really at work. The day was +moist and close, and a warm fine rain, which fell at +intervals, might have offered some excuse for remaining +indoors. But she had not availed herself of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>the excuse; very likely, he thought, because she +expected he would come, thinking which he wished +he had not done so, and even for a moment +meditated going away without betraying his presence. +But it was too late for that; she had seen him and +glanced up from her work to ask, “Are you going +to market this afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you can’t see Robert off in good time? +Theresa will be waiting for him.”</p> + +<p>“I will do what I can.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you.” She resumed her work, and he +went on his way determined to keep his promise.</p> + +<p>And either he did keep it, or else some other +circumstance brought about the desired results, for +Robert came home early that night; and Bill, who +was sitting with Theresa, was satisfied, trying to +persuade herself that Harborough was right in saying +that the one escapade was an accident not likely to be +repeated.</p> + +<p>She did not see Harborough for the next few days, +and so could not thank him for his good offices. She +did not altogether expect to see him; indeed, to tell +the truth, she had forgotten about him in the engrossing +interest of her work. But after nearly a +week he passed that way again and found her still +very busy, though now at a spot some little way from +the railing. She did not cease work to come to him, +and as he did not jump the rail to come to her, +they carried on their conversation in tones suitable to +the distance that separated them,—an arrangement +which struck Harborough as more practical than +pleasant, though he would not take the initiative in +improving upon it. The conversation itself was +practical, strictly horticultural, and mostly concerned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>with the growing of lettuces, which, though it showed +a laudable attention to business on Bill’s part, was +uninteresting. She was attending very much to +business and not very much to Harborough; she +even once went unceremoniously away to fetch some +water-cans, singing as she went.</p> + +<p>Harborough turned to go; the water-cans, it is +true, were not far away, but she had gone for them +without a word of apology. He was an extremely +practical young man, believing in utility, in the +importance of work above all things; but he did not +quite appreciate seeing manners (and himself) sacrificed +to some one else’s notion of work.</p> + +<p>“‘There’s work for all the day-time,’” Bill sang, +repeating to herself fragments of the song she had +sung to the other Harborough, and quite unconscious +of having offended this one. “The rose of this can +has rather big holes in it; I believe it will wash the +seeds out of the ground—‘the victor’s crown of +glory,—of glory, glory’—now, then, I have filled +my shoes with water. ‘But after life’s long story +there’s the devil’s bill to meet.’”</p> + +<p>“What are you singing?” Harborough stopped +to ask.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” and Bill stood on one foot while she +emptied the water out of her shoe.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but what was it?”</p> + +<p>Bill recited the verse to him and began to water +her seed-patch.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you come nearer?” Harborough +asked. “All the men in the yard will hear what +you are saying.”</p> + +<p>“There are none there now, they are all eating +their lunch in the barn; besides what does it matter +if they do? It will do no harm.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>“Oh, no; it might even do some good; it is +almost a pity they should not be edified by your—hymn +is it?”</p> + +<p>Bill looked up arrested by his tone. “It isn’t a +hymn,” she said, “but it is true all the same, every +bit of it, the laughter and the work and the bill, only +I don’t think you always have to wait till the end of +life’s long story for that. After all it is only fair; +you must expect to pay a good price for a good +thing,—and it is good!”</p> + +<p>“Which? The broken cucumber-frame or your +own work? You are admiring both.”</p> + +<p>“Everything,—just being alive.”</p> + +<p>“Do you consider one is in the devil’s debt for +life? It is a new idea.”</p> + +<p>“No, not exactly that. The debt you owe is the +wrong you do. You have not half lived if you have +done no wrong; you miss an awful lot if you never +do any wrong,—don’t you think so?”</p> + +<p>She looked up as she spoke. Wrong so prefigured +appeared wonderfully alluring, for there was an indescribable +provocation in her face and figure, a +fascination, nay, a temptation personified, which +roused the youth in him, stirring the pulses usually +so cool. Theory and reason are all very well, +admirable in fact for ordinary use, but young blood +will course in spite of them; the world’s spring will +not always take <i>no</i> for answer.</p> + +<p>Harborough went home that day vibrating with +an emotion which was strange to him. Afterwards, +when he was cool again, he was ashamed of it, for it +did not seem exactly a good thing, and he vowed he +would not go near the garden again. Yet how could +he help himself? In a rash moment he had offered +to mend the broken cucumber-frame for the girl, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>and she, serenely unconscious of his emotions, had +accepted the offer. There had not been time then: +Theresa wanted her in the house in five minutes; +but he would come some other time. She had +suggested to-morrow, or any day he liked. It did +not matter when it was done, but it had to be done; +he had left himself no choice.</p> + +<p>That same evening he met Theresa in the lane, +and, acting on impulse, he told her of his offer to +mend the frame. On the whole, he thought it +better, even if she put a false construction on his +actions, than jumping the fence some morning when +Bill was alone in the garden. But Theresa did not +put any construction whatever on his actions; she +looked upon her young cousin as more of a child +than she really was, and much more of one than +Harborough thought her. “She told me you +offered to do it,” Theresa said; “it is very kind of +you, I’m sure. She has taken a great fancy to +gardening, and I am glad of it, though I cannot give +her much help myself, for I know so little about it, +and am so busy besides.”</p> + +<p>Harborough assured her he was pleased to give +any assistance he could, and Theresa thanked him +again for sparing his valuable time, and invited him +to do so to-morrow afternoon, and to have tea afterwards.</p> + +<p>This he did, he and Bill spending an hour in the +garden before tea. That afternoon Bill did not +arouse any sentiments, unholy or otherwise, in his +breast, neither did she sing or whistle; she devoted +herself to business, and Harborough, having of late +worked with farm-labourers, found it a refreshing +change to work with a person who understood what +was wanted and did as she was told. “She has more +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>common-sense than most of the men I know,” was +the opinion he formed that day, both when they +were at work before tea, and when they were at the +table later on. Her intercourse with Robert Morton +impressed him very much; she had gauged the man’s +character to a nicety, and Harborough could not but +see that she understood him better, blamed him less, +and could do infinitely more with him than could his +stately young wife. He was not sure that he liked +her the better for that. “An odd girl,” was his +opinion, when at last he had convinced himself that +she was not really conscious of the part she was +playing; “she simply reflects her surroundings, +but—” His ideal of womanhood was not a changing +elf, a will-o’-the-wisp, a creature who could in mind +enter into all things, reflect all things, good, bad, and +indifferent, without judging or condemning. Woman +should be above man; she should not understand +evil except when he taught her; she should be +merciful, of course, with the mercy of love, the pity +of superiority, but not tolerant with the liberality of +good fellowship; she should have nothing in common +with a man like Robert Morton; she should be +something fairer, better—unconsciously he looked at +Theresa.</p> + +<p>Yet Bill fascinated him. She was not fair, above, +apart; she was of the earth earthy, a brownie by the +hearth, not a goddess for a shrine. And yet the last +thing in his waking thoughts that night was the dark +glowing face watching him from the gate, the first +thing that haunted his dreams was the small figure +gliding into the green twilight of the nut-bushes.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI.<br> +<small>WILHELMINA I. AND II.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Polly</span> always declared she foresaw the end from the +very beginning of the affair, and certainly at the outset +of Miss Brownlow’s illness she prophesied fatal +results; but then she always did foretell the worst, +and Bella said she did not believe her, though she +sobbed as she said it. But it seemed so impossible: +Miss Brownlow only slipped down the last four or +five of the cellar-stairs; Jane was getting coals at the +time, and declared she saw her and could swear it was +not more than five steps. She must have struck her +head on the corner at the bottom, for it was so long +before she recovered consciousness, and she seemed +to so wander in her mind when she did recover. +This was before she became very ill; after that took +place Polly did not prophesy anything; the cousins +only looked at one another in silence.</p> + +<p>But before that time Theresa had come. Bella +was so intensely relieved by her coming, that she did +not for a moment dispute with Polly for the right of +bringing her. She sat by Miss Brownlow’s side alone +while Polly was away; the room was so dark, for the +blinds were pulled down and the day was overcast, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>that she could barely see to correct the pile of exercise-books +before her. As yet the school had not +been broken up; but the noise of the children did +not seem to disturb Miss Brownlow, hardly even to +reach her as she lay in semi-stupor. Neither of the +cousins felt it wise to dismiss their pupils lightly, and, +notwithstanding Polly’s prophetic warnings, neither +really anticipated the worst, or fully realised the +serious nature of the accident.</p> + +<p>On account of the school Polly was not able to +leave Wrugglesby till after four o’clock; but, seeing +the grave nature of her errand, she ordered a fly from +the Red Lion in spite of Bella’s demur at the extravagance, +and drove away in becoming state and +solemnity. Bill was working in the garden at the +time of the arrival at Haylands; when she went to +the pump for water to wash her hands before tea she +saw the fly standing in the yard.</p> + +<p>“Whose is that?” she asked as she pumped water +into a wooden bowl.</p> + +<p>Sam, with the milk-pails on his way to the dairy, +stood contemplating the object.</p> + +<p>“Don’t roightly know,” he said.</p> + +<p>Bill carried her bowl to a wooden bench outside +the dairy door, brought a large piece of yellow soap +from the wash-house, rolled up her sleeves and proceeded to wash; +the refinements of life did not at +that time greatly trouble her. The man with the +pails followed her to the dairy, went in and began +pouring the milk into the pans.</p> + +<p>“Oi shouldn’t be s’proised if that b’longed to +Wazzel,” he said glancing down the yard; “looks +loike ’is shay, that do.”</p> + +<p>“Wazzel of the Red Lion? Who has come from +Wrugglesby?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>“Come fr’ Wrugglesby? Oh, it’s one o’ the +Misses’s sisters as come, but I’m not sartin that is +Wazzel’s—”</p> + +<p>“Which one? Bella, the pretty one?”</p> + +<p>“No, the old ’un. Wazzel—”</p> + +<p>But Bill had gone with still wet hands to see what +had brought Polly to Ashelton. She knew, directly +she looked into the room, that there was something +wrong, or that Polly was persuading herself there +was. There was an air of momentous gravity about +Polly, of depressing, dignified solemnity which pervaded +the whole room and infected all present. +Even the frivolous young maid, who was setting out +the tea-things, looked awed and spread the best cloth +out of respect for the gravity of the visitor. Robert, +who was also there, seemed glum and silent, and +Polly was not attempting to entertain him according +to her usual manner; she was acting up to the situation +and enjoying it proportionately.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” Bill asked.</p> + +<p>Theresa turned, and Bill knew when she saw her +face that there was real trouble.</p> + +<p>“Aunt is very ill,” Polly answered, “and I have +come for Theresa.”</p> + +<p>“Ill?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but not dangerously,” Theresa hastily explained; +“at least we hope not,—we are sure it +cannot be,—she was quite well a day or two ago. +She has had a tumble down-stairs which has shaken +her a good deal. It is so difficult for Polly and Bella +to nurse her and look after the school too, that they +want me to go and help.”</p> + +<p>“I see.” Bill was greatly relieved.</p> + +<p>“How long has she been ill? How bad is she?”</p> + +<p>They told her, Polly characteristically painting the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>case black, Theresa white. Bill was left to draw her +own conclusions, based on the one fact that Polly +usually served the truth in the sauce she considered +most fitting, and on the other that Theresa really +knew very little of the state of the case. In the end +she did not know what to think; her fears were +half aroused, yet she could not believe matters really +were serious; nothing serious had happened within +her memory, and it did not seem possible that it +could now. That which needed the most consideration, +however, was not so much what had happened +as the more immediate question of Theresa’s leaving +home. This proved difficult to arrange; she hardly +knew what to do.</p> + +<p>“The dairy needs a lot of management just now,” +she said, “and Jessie really is very inexperienced; +she has been with us such a little time too.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think I could do anything?” Bill asked.</p> + +<p>Theresa looked at her doubtfully, but Robert, who +was tired of the discussion, said shortly: “Of +course she could; there is not such a lot to do. You +had better get your things together and go back at +once; there’s no need for any more talk about it.”</p> + +<p>It was nice of Robert to give permission so readily, +even if he did not give it graciously. No doubt +Polly thought so, as she cast a quick, comprehending +glance at him from the corner of her small dark eyes. +“Thank you,” she said; “I’m sure it is very nice of +you to spare her; we are so much obliged, so very +much. Now, Theresa, you can come with a light +heart,—as soon as we have had tea; we may as well +wait for that. We must have tea somewhere, and it +takes no longer in one place than another.”</p> + +<p>So Theresa drove away with Polly, leaving Bill +for a day or two only, she said, though in her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>heart she thought it likely to be longer. Bill also +thought it possible, and took over the charge of +the house and dairy rather in anticipation of such +an event. Taking over the charge was a serious +matter in Bill’s opinion; Jessie also found it a +serious matter, for with the cheerful and friendly +Bill she found herself working as she had never +worked before. Bill loved work in all its branches, +and somehow those with her usually had to work +too, either because they were infected by her +energy, or because they could not avoid it; but +for some reason they usually worked. Jessie +worked now as she never did before or afterwards, +until she got a house of her own and a husband +to keep.</p> + +<p>It must be admitted Bill did a great deal more +than there was any necessity to do, a great deal +more than Theresa did or expected to be done; +the only thing which prevented her from doing yet +more was a desire to go on with her gardening. +It was one morning when she was hurrying over the +last of the butter-making so as to get out to her +plants that Mr. Dane came and hindered her awhile. +He came to ask if some of the skimmed milk could +be sent to Mrs. Hutton, an old woman at Ashelton +End. He was going to the front door in the +orthodox manner but, hearing Bill singing gaily in +the dairy, he went round the end of the house +and came to seek her at her work. He knew +Theresa had gone to Wrugglesby; all Ashelton +knew that, for Miss Minchin, from the vantage-point +of her corner window, had seen the fly from the +Red Lion drive past. She had kept a careful watch +on the road till the same vehicle drove back, even +sitting at tea with one eye on the window and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>the other on the tea-pot, so as to have a really +good look at it on its return journey and to see +Mrs. Morton and another lady inside.</p> + +<p>On account of this sight, doubting that Mrs. +Morton could have left her cousin alone at Haylands, +thinking that, had she done so, the young +creature might be lonely, or want a little help, Miss +Minchin set off to see her the very next afternoon. +Bill was in the garden at the time, fortunately out +of sight of the drawing-room window, when Jessie +came to tell her of the visitor.</p> + +<p>“What does she want?” Bill asked.</p> + +<p>“To see you, Miss. I expect she wants to find +out about the Missis, if the truth were known.” +Jessie knew Miss Minchin by reputation.</p> + +<p>“Well, you could have told her that,” said Bill, +loth to leave her gardening.</p> + +<p>“But she didn’t ask me. Lor’, miss, she pretends +she’s come to see you.”</p> + +<p>“To call?” Bill asked, and Jessie nodded.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Bill delighted, and ran to the pump. +She made a back-door toilette and presented herself +in the drawing-room quite unconscious of the +quantity of loam on her short skirts. Miss Minchin +found out all Bill could tell her, offered (and really +meant it) any assistance she could give, and had, +as she said, “a very nice little chat,” Bill playing +hostess most successfully. She went away quite +satisfied, told Miss Gruet all she had heard and all +she surmised, and at the end of three days everyone +in Ashelton and Ashelton End and Brook +Ashelton, even including Mr. Dane, knew something +of Mrs. Morton’s summons to Wrugglesby. Consequently, +when on that sunny April morning the +rector heard the vigorous young voice singing in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>the dairy, he knew that the lady of the house +was to be found there.</p> + +<p>Bill was singing a perfectly irreproachable hymn, +occasionally, when her work became very engrossing, +leaving off or perhaps humming a bar or two; +but just as Mr. Dane drew near she broke out +at the top of her voice so that she did not hear +his approach, nor did she know that he was there +until he stopped in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning,” she replied, giving him a large +smile of welcome. “Do you want me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but please don’t let me interrupt you; you +look very busy.”</p> + +<p>Bill was making butter-pats, and apparently had +been churning earlier, for the butter-milk still dripped +from her bare elbows. She was standing on a small +inverted wash-tub, for the shelves were high and +she liked to be well above her work. “I am rather +busy,” she said; “come in and sit down, won’t you? +That pickle-tub is quite safe; the lid won’t give +way.”</p> + +<p>The rector came in and sat down, making his +request for milk at the same time.</p> + +<p>“She shall have some,” Bill said after a moment’s +thought. “I will take her some by-and-bye, if +that will do; or do you want her to have it earlier?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane said that would do, though on second +thoughts he suggested that, if convenient, he would +take the milk himself as he was going to Mrs. +Hutton.</p> + +<p>Bill mentally rearranged the milk at her disposal +and said he could have it now. Had she been +Theresa, she would have insisted that the boy should +carry the can to the cottage; being Bill she did +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>no such thing, for she had set the boy some weeding +which would take all his time. She volunteered to +carry it herself as soon as the butter should be done, +and would have been pleased to do so. It never +occurred to her that the carrying of a milk-can could +appear to Mr. Dane in a different light from that +in which it did to her; and fortunately she was +right.</p> + +<p>She went off to find a can, and it took her some +few minutes to do so. As she searched, the old +man heard her softly complete the interrupted verse +of the hymn she had been singing, and the varied +richness of her voice struck him forcibly.</p> + +<p>“You have a very remarkable voice, my child,” +he said when she came back.</p> + +<p>Bill coloured a little with pleasure. “I believe +I can imitate other sounds better than I can do +anything else,” she said; and to illustrate her words +she mimicked with rare perfection the liquid recurrent +whistle of a thrush in the apple-tree outside +the window. “Perhaps it is because I have got +a correct ear,” she added, as if apologising for her +own skill.</p> + +<p>“I think you must have,” he answered, “and +a good memory too. You remember what you have +once heard perhaps? Yes? Tell me, then, where +did you hear the song you sang at Mrs. Dawson’s?”</p> + +<p>The old man was looking at her very keenly, +almost eagerly. She gave the butter an unnecessary +thump as she answered, “I don’t know,” and then +added somewhat defiantly, “I never thought they +would mind it.”</p> + +<p>“Mind it? Who minded it? How did you +learn it? Think,—tell me whom you have heard +sing it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>Bill saw that Mr. Dane had found no offence in +the song, and being reassured she set herself to +answer his question. “I cannot tell you how I +came to know it,” she said; “I have never seen the +music in print that I can remember. The greater +part of the words I found with some letters and +things which are kept in an old box at home. When +I read them I seemed to recognise them, and remembered +the part that was missing,—you know the +way I mean, the way you grope things out of your +mind. At first I thought I would take the paper +away: then I thought I ought not to, so I just +learned them by heart. As for the music, it seems +to belong to the words—don’t you think so? I can +only suppose my father used to sing the song, +perhaps very often, and I have remembered it, though +in that case it may not be quite right.”</p> + +<p>“There was one mistake; you did not repeat the +refrain with sufficient accuracy in the latter part of +the song.”</p> + +<p>“You have heard it before!” Bill exclaimed in +astonishment. “You know it too!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I have heard it—many years ago, very +many; that is why I wondered how you came to +know it; I did not think it had been sung lately.”</p> + +<p>He rose as he spoke, and held out his hand for the +can. He looked old and weary, yet withal a very +fine and courteous gentleman though standing among +milk-pans talking to a little dairy-maid. Bill +wondered if he had heard the song when he was +young, and if it were very long ago. She gave him +the milk-can saying, “I will send the same quantity +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, thank you, little Mistress Bill. +Bill,—it’s a name to fit you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span>She laughed. “Better than Wilhelmina,” she said. +“That is ever so much too long; I was called +Wilhelmina after my grandmother.”</p> + +<p>He stopped on the threshold. For a moment he +leaned against the door-post; the lined face looked +gray in the shaded light, though perhaps only by +reason of it, for he merely said, “Yes, yes, of course, +Wilhelmina Alardy,—good-bye,” and so went away +with his milk-can.</p> + +<p>Wilhelmina Alardy! Of course she was Wilhelmina +Alardy; he knew that before. And the other +Wilhelmina was her grandmother; of course he had +known that too, or at least he almost felt as if he +had. Not that she was like, not like at all, not even +in face; he could trace no resemblance to the first +Wilhelmina, tall and slim and queenly, with her +beautiful black hair. Bill’s hair was dark, it is true, +but with a glowing, coppery darkness, brown shot +with red, a colour of which a man was never sure +even when he thought he saw it in her eyes. Wilhelmina’s +eyes were different, dark, proud, passionate. +Bill’s were not proud, nor were they passionate; but +they took possession of a man’s mind; they held an +indescribable charm not to be forgotten, they were,—they +were other eyes, another face—</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane turned abruptly from the painting he +was contemplating; he was at home now, his visit to +Mrs. Hutton having been an unusually brief one. +When he reached home he locked himself in his +study so that he should not be disturbed. His +housekeeper thought he was busy over his sermon; +but if he was, his text was an old portrait taken from +a locked drawer, and his subject a beautiful woman, +young and proud, to whom the painter had given a +milk-white skin and curling black hair. Her gown +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>sloped away on the shoulders in the fashion of forty +years ago, and her brow curved softly in that fashion +too; but the painter, in spite of a laudable desire to +bring the face within the then prevailing standard of +beauty, had not been able to flatter the chin out of +its imperious waywardness nor the eyes out of their +proud unrest.</p> + +<p>There was no likeness to Bill in this face of the +other Wilhelmina; and yet—this was but one of the +looks she had worn—who should say there was not +some of her sleeping undeveloped in the girl of +to-day? Men know so little of the working of such +things. Who could say how many of Wilhelmina’s +reckless ancestors had gone to the making of Bill, +had revived in Bill, gipsy Bill? Of course she was +gipsy; Anthony Alardy was half a gipsy, dark-faced, +lawless, part sinner, part saint, knight and churl in +one; a child of nature alive with a glowing vitality, +impregnated with a magnetism, a charm, a quality +without a name, hard to define yet harder still to +defy. To this day the man who sat with the old +portrait in his hand could recall, ay, and acknowledge, +the charm, even though he owed to it so much +of sorrow and dishonour in the long ago. And the +voice! He remembered the voice too; the musician +in him could never forget it, for he would never hear +such another. He might hate it,—he did hate it, all +the man in him hated it—but the musician could not, +and could never forget.</p> + +<p class="center">Red is the rose thou hast bound in thy hair.</p> + +<p>That night there were red roses in her hair, he +remembered,—how he remembered! And the song—what +music, what passion of melody! It was not +art, it was nature, man’s nature, woman’s nature +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>crying out, passion which swelled up and spoke, to +be answered, to be satisfied.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane put the portrait of his young wife away, +put it away and, by degrees put away too the scenes +and memories which had returned to him. Strange +that after so many years the past should return thus, +stranger still, since it did return, that pain should +outweigh all other feelings now. Where had gone +the sense of injury, the shame, the agony, the unforgiving +hate? They were gone, all was only a pain +now; thank God for it, and for the mercy of the +years, the pity and the merciful wisdom learned of +the long, patient years.</p> + +<p>He locked the drawer and put away the key. She +was dead, dead long ago. And her grandchild was +here, singing the old passionate song; looking out +on the world with eager, unknowing eyes; containing +in herself funded possibilities handed down from +a dead past, acquired from circumstance, environment, +a hundred things of which a man cannot judge, on +which he cannot reason. Her grandchild! A little +brown creature full of untold possibilities! Her +grandchild? Almost she might have been his own—for +a moment he fancied he hated her for it. Might +have been? Had she been she would not have been +such as she now was; and after all, that was the +thing which concerned him, the thing which he had, +if need be, to help.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII.<br> +<small>NATURAL SELECTION.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bill</span>, of course, knew nothing of what was in the +rector’s mind; she only wondered once or twice +about the song, and decided to sing it no more in +public since the greater number of her acquaintances +disapproved of it, and the one whose opinion she +most valued did not like it. Harborough liked it or +had seemed to like it on the night she sang it at the +Dawsons’. But she was not quite sure of him, for +she had begun to think there were two separate +persons in Gilchrist Harborough,—one a strong, cool, +somewhat old young man whose only weakness was +theories, and who was the normal and usual person +in possession; the other a very different person, who +only looked out now and then, by accident as it were. +It was to this last that the song appealed, this last +who waked once or twice under her influence. +She was not sure, but she rather fancied Harborough +despised this second self, even denied its existence. +That was a pity, in her opinion, for the second self +was the thing in him which played, which laughed, +and enjoyed life and despised theories. For this +reason, and also for pure mischief, Bill tried occasionally +to rouse this other self.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>She had not many opportunities, for Harborough +was very guarded, and by degrees, since she was +much absorbed in her work, she forgot all about it, +though she saw him often while Theresa was at +Wrugglesby. It is true, if he passed when she was +working in the garden he did not usually stop to say +more than “good-afternoon”; indeed, had she only +known it, his demeanour on those occasions suggested +“lead us not into temptation” in a manner which +was scarcely complimentary. However, as it happened, +about this time business brought Harborough +to Robert, and Robert brought him to Haylands, +where of necessity he saw Bill. Even when he did +not come to the house, he met her in the yard or +barns or dairy, “looking diligently to the ways of +her household.” There could be no doubt as to her +capabilities and diligence as a housewife; Harborough +never saw her now without being impressed with her +ability and, indeed, with her great suitability for the +post of mistress of a working-farm.</p> + +<p>Events, or rather his opinions, culminated on the +afternoon when he invited her to take shelter from +the rain in Crows’ Farm. It was very heavy rain and +very sudden, and she had on her best hat; in ordinary +circumstances she would have declined his hospitality +and paddled cheerfully home, but the hat was not +ordinary; so she accepted his offer and took shelter +under his roof for the hour that the rain lasted. +While there she made tea for him without disturbing +the method of his arrangements; she washed the +cups without splashing his scrubbed table, and she +did not, even when asked for her opinion, say +that his way of keeping kitchen utensils was +wrong. Finally she sat by the smouldering fire +with folded hands saying with unmistakable sincerity +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>that his manner of living was one after her own +heart.</p> + +<p>“You would like it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, better than anything except gipsying.”</p> + +<p>“You would not like that,” he told her smiling. +“At least when you came to know what it was really +like, you would not.”</p> + +<p>“You think not? Perhaps so; I don’t know +much about it: have you tried?”</p> + +<p>“Rather not,” he said; “I have tried bush-life +though.”</p> + +<p>“Is that like it?”</p> + +<p>“No; not altogether. There are not so many +fellow-gipsies in that; also there are not necessarily +dirt and dishonesty.”</p> + +<p>“But there are sometimes?” Bill asked as if she +were anxious there should be.</p> + +<p>“Occasionally you run against queer customers, +men from the ends of the earth, who had very much +better have stayed there, if they could not contrive +to drop off altogether.”</p> + +<p>“I should think they were worse than fellow-gipsies,” +Bill observed.</p> + +<p>“That’s a matter of opinion; besides, there is always +plenty of room there, and you don’t come across them +often. I think the thing which strikes me most of +all here is the smallness; it is all so ‘preserved.’”</p> + +<p>Bill was interested. “I should like to see the +bush,” she said.</p> + +<p>“It is not much to see,” he told her, but added, +“station-life would suit you; I believe you would +like that.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me about it.” And he told her what he +thought would interest her, she listening with eager +face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>And thus they spent the time pleasantly enough +until the rain ceased sufficiently for her to go home. +He walked to the gate with her, and then went back +to his barns and sheds revolving in his mind a theory +he had not much considered before,—the theory of +natural selection, which he interpreted to mean the +wisdom of choosing your wife as you choose your +horse, for general suitability to your purpose.</p> + +<p>She was young, it was true, and perhaps a little +wild, but she could be trained; she would also sober +down of herself, and she would probably never +develop her latent possibilities for mischief if she +married early. She was not what one would describe +as tractable, though she was accommodating, far too +accommodating not to be more or less submissive to +superior experience. And she was all one could +desire for practical purposes.</p> + +<p>Practical purposes! That was just it; in adopting +a practical farmer’s life he found he needed a practical +farmer’s wife; there was no room at his hearth for +the stately lady whom fancy (not yet dead) had once +painted in that position. There was something +wrong with the present arrangement; a man either +wanted to be something less or else to have something +more than modern codes allowed. The +patriarch Abraham supplied what must even then +have been a long-felt want, in taking, besides the +chief and lady wife, a humbler working partner.</p> + +<p>Harborough was not a man given to acting hastily, +at least the paramount person in his character was +not; concerning the other person he did not know +much. He thought a long time of Bill and her +suitability for his purpose, entirely oblivious for the +moment of her curious attractions; but he could +come to no conclusion either as to whether he wanted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>her or whether, if he did, she wanted him. However, +he need not have wearied himself with the +consideration that night, for, as it chanced, he had +almost a month in which to think it over before he +saw her again. That very evening she went to +Wrugglesby and did not come back to Ashelton for +some weeks.</p> + +<p>As she crossed the yard on her homeward way, +Robert met her, his heavy face wearing a look of real +concern.</p> + +<p>“Bear up, little girl!” was his greeting, for he saw +that his face had already broken the bad news. +“Cheer up! It hasn’t come to the worst yet, and +we’re not going to be frightened into thinking it’s +coming, either;—we’re just going to drive in to +Wrugglesby and see.”</p> + +<p>“Have they sent for me?” she asked, her face +whitening.</p> + +<p>“Yes,—you’re not going to cry, are you? It +mayn’t be so bad as all that. There’s a brave girl! +Run in and get a wrap or something, you’ll be cold +before you get there. They’ll have Beauty in the +cart in a twinkling, and you shall drive her if you +like.”</p> + +<p>Bill smiled a little; he was trying to comfort her +as well as he could and she was grateful for +the intention. She even pretended to be pleased to +drive the spirited mare hitherto forbidden to her; it +might have hurt him if she had not. It might have +hurt him if she had refused the sweets he kept +popping in her mouth, and she ate them though each +one seemed as if it would choke her.</p> + +<p>He talked a little during the first part of the drive +and she tried to answer him, but after a while he felt +the wisdom of silence, and they both became quiet +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>until just as he handed her out at Langford House +he said awkwardly: “You shall never want for +anything while I live, I swear you sha’n’t! Theresa +and I will always have a home for you,—mind that, +little girl.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII.<br> +<small>CHASING A SHADOW.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. James Brownlow</span> was a busy man; a hard-working +solicitor, partner in an old firm, and a good +firm though scarcely a rich one. He was not rich +himself; he had worked hard all his life to attain +moderate comfort, and he continued to work hard, +though he was now past middle-age, partly to maintain +the same standard of comfort, and partly because +he cherished a delusion that nothing in the firm could +go on without him. But, in spite of his business and +its importance, he felt bound to devote a certain +amount of time to the affairs of the late Miss Isabella +Brownlow. It is true she was not a very near +relation, but he had been legal adviser as well as +relation, and moreover, the nieces she left seemed to +be in a particularly solitary condition.</p> + +<p>“But one is married, I thought,” Mrs. Brownlow +objected from the further end of the dinner-table. +The train from Wrugglesby had been late, and made +the dinner late too; accordingly the lamb was +overcooked, and the clockwork regularity of the +household disturbed. Mrs. Brownlow felt slightly +annoyed; also she considered that if one of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>nieces was married her husband should have taken +over the affairs of the family, instead of troubling +somebody else’s husband,—and, incidentally, somebody +else’s excellent cook.</p> + +<p>Mr. Brownlow probably knew these sentiments, +but he was not disturbed by them that night for the +importance of business was great in his eyes; +moreover, he had been discreetly handled earlier in +the day. “Yes,” he said, “yes, one is married, +comfortably married, I should say; but a man is not +bound to take over his wife’s family. He has professed +himself quite ready to give a home to the +youngest girl; the others will carry on the school.”</p> + +<p>“A wise plan, I should think,” Mrs. Brownlow +said, with a sigh. She was always sadly affected by +the delinquencies of the present age, which she +possessed great abilities for discovering. “It is +liberal of him,” she went on. “I suppose he will be +repaid by the girl finding out one day that she is +unable to bear a dependent position and must make +her own way in the world, after having had a long +training for it at somebody else’s expense. Girls +usually get such ideas nowadays.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Brownlow agreed with the general sentiment, +but defended this particular girl. “I don’t think she +is that sort at all,” he said. “She is very young, a +plain, quiet little thing; she looked docile; Miss +Hains spoke of her as if she were a child.”</p> + +<p>“There is no family?” Mrs. Brownlow asked. +“I mean the married one,—Mrs. Morton, didn’t +you say the name was—has no family?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“But if she has by-and-bye, what will become of +this girl? Can they afford to keep her? Is it wise, +do you think?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>“I have talked it all over with Miss Hains who +really is a sensible woman. She is five and thirty, I +dare say, and a sensible, clever woman.” Polly +might have been considered clever in some senses of +the word; that she had certain claims to ability was +proved by the opinion she had produced in Mr. +Brownlow’s mind. “She and I,” went on the worthy +gentleman unconsciously placing the persons in their +right order of importance, “she and I have decided +that her cousin Wilhelmina had better return home +with Mrs. Morton for the present. The school is +not larger than she herself, with the assistance of +Miss Waring, can manage. In the course of time +they hope to increase it, when Wilhelmina can come +back to help them with the younger pupils.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brownlow thought this an excellent arrangement +and asked for personal details of its originator.</p> + +<p>“Miss Hains? No, she is not handsome,” her +husband said in answer to her question, “but a +sensible, practical woman. Really it is quite surprising +how business-like she is when you come to +think that she has lived so long in that little country +town,—how business-like and yet how very womanly, +how essentially feminine, not in the least self-assertive +and opinionated.”</p> + +<p>Such were the golden opinions Polly had won +from Mr. Brownlow. Hardly so flattering was her +opinion of him, which she was at that same time +expressing to Bella and Bill as they sat together in +the twilight.</p> + +<p>The first shock of their grief was now over. It is +true there was an aching blank left in their lives by +the death of this kindly, not over-wise aunt, but the +first sharpness was over, the first ache a little dulled. +Bella and Theresa had lost their own mother not so +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>many years ago, and though they had dearly loved +their aunt, the loss of her was not what the earlier +grief had been, nor yet what it was to Bill who could +remember no mother. Bill’s loss was greatest, and +greatest also to her was the shock, for this was the +first time real sorrow had touched her life. She had, +too, more time and opportunity to think about it, +having, as the youngest, but little to do with all the +plans and work consequent upon Miss Brownlow’s +death. Polly, of course, was very busy: mourning +alone offered a large field for her energies, for the +cousins could not afford to employ even the local +milliner and dressmaker.</p> + +<p>“We must let them dress us for the funeral,” +Polly had said, but added, “I hardly think we need +get Bill’s hat there; I will do that myself, for we +must save wherever we can. As for other clothes, +we must manage somehow; one good dress apiece is +all we can afford.”</p> + +<p>And she had sighed; extensive mourning would +have compensated her somewhat for a much heavier +bereavement. Not but that she did mourn for Miss +Brownlow; her grief was real, though perhaps not +quite so deep as theirs, thought Bella and Theresa. +As for Bill, when she had cried herself sick with the +abandonment of childhood, she felt an hysterical +inclination to laugh as she watched the perfection of +Polly’s sorrow. It was real, as real as any other of +Polly’s feelings; she felt it after her fashion, but +principally because it was the fashion to feel it.</p> + +<p>By the May evening when Mr. Brownlow so much +commended Polly, that “sensible and practical +woman” considered it time to abate the first intensity +of her grief. She had been abating it by degrees, and +during Mr. Brownlow’s visit had shown a demeanour +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>of subdued sorrow blent with practical common-sense. +After his departure she subdued her sorrow still more, +and when the cousins sat together that evening she +discussed matters with the air of one who, having paid +off the funeral <i>cortège</i>, now opens the shutters and +prepares to return to the normal condition of things. +Theresa had gone home to Haylands; she had been +obliged to go back there some time before, but had +driven to Wrugglesby with Robert that day so +as to be present during Mr. Brownlow’s visit. The +school was to re-open at the beginning of the next +week, the holidays on account of Miss Brownlow’s +death being deducted from the midsummer vacation; +an unavoidable arrangement not much to Polly’s taste.</p> + +<p>“We are too poor to afford sorrow,” she observed; +“at least comfortable sorrow.”</p> + +<p>“As if comfort mattered at such a time!” Bella +replied with scorn. She was leaning with her elbows +on the sill, looking through the open window into +the street.</p> + +<p>Polly was of opinion that it did matter, but she did +not explain her views at length, for she wanted to +talk over Mr. Brownlow’s suggestion.</p> + +<p>“You and I,” she said to Bella, “are to keep on +this school for the rest of our lives. We must move +into a smaller house to do it when the lease of this +one is up. How would Chestnut Villa do? It is +empty now, and I don’t expect anyone will take it +before then; it is too mouldy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” acquiesced Bella in a spiritless voice. She +looked across the empty, darkening street to the +doctor’s prim house opposite; the scent of the +laburnums came to her from his garden, the sound of +a wheel-barrow from a neighbour’s close by. It was +all very dull and narrow and small—and the prospect +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>offered? It is hard to be young and fair and told at +two-and-twenty that to live at Chestnut Villa (too +mouldy for anyone else) and teach small girls is one’s +fate beyond redemption.</p> + +<p>“We are to keep on with the school,” Polly was +saying.</p> + +<p>“I suppose so.” Bella did not look round.</p> + +<p>“Do you?” Polly retorted. “I don’t then! For +one thing, I don’t suppose the school will keep on +with us.”</p> + +<p>Bella did look round now. “It will, it must!” +she exclaimed. “What else are we to do?”</p> + +<p>“It won’t,” Polly affirmed with confidence. “Look +how it has gone down even while poor Aunt, whom +everyone knew, was here. If she,—and people sent +their children to her out of friendship or because their +cousins or someone used to come—if she could not +keep it together, what are we likely to do? You +can teach, but you have not passed many examinations, +and you are young and not at all imposing; as +for me, I have no certificates at all.”</p> + +<p>“But, Polly, you are clever in your own way; +surely you could get pupils?”</p> + +<p>Polly did not think so, and she proceeded to make +a statement of the case,—which girls were leaving, +which likely to leave, and which among those living +in the district were likely to come to Langford House, +the last appearing to be very few. The case as set +forth by her was not inspiriting.</p> + +<p>“But,” said Bella at last, “why did you not tell +Mr. Brownlow this? You seemed to think it all +satisfactory when you were talking to him.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Brownlow!” Polly replied contemptuously. +“What would be the good of telling a person like +that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>“We have no one else to advise or help us, no one +at all; Robert does not know and I am sure you +don’t think much of his opinion.”</p> + +<p>Seeing Bella in real consternation, Bill shut her +book. It was <span class="smcap">A Midsummer-Night’s Dream</span>, +recommended by Mr. Dane, and she had found a +great delight in it during those days. “What is your +plan?” she asked Polly, as she put the book away +and seated herself on the table.</p> + +<p>“I cannot say I have a plan,” Polly answered +slowly, “not exactly a plan,—I may not do it; it +depends on several things.”</p> + +<p>“Several persons?” Bill suggested; “persons or +a person?” Polly did not answer, and Bill followed +up her suspicions: “A person who you are not sure +will do what you want?”</p> + +<p>Polly shifted uneasily; she seldom reckoned persons +as obstacles to her plans, but in this case Bill was +right, for she herself was the person in question, and +Polly was not at all sure of the worth of her own +authority over her ward—she and Theresa had been +appointed guardians.</p> + +<p>“It is all very perplexing,” she said with a sigh. +“I hardly know what will be best to do for you and +me. It principally concerns you and me, as poor +Aunt said, for Bella has a little money of her own, +and, even if she does not marry, she is never likely +to want a home with Theresa living so near.”</p> + +<p>“Neither is Bill,” Bella said. “Robert has offered +it to Bill; I don’t see how you can expect him to +take us both. I am very glad he has offered it to +her; she wants it much more than I do.”</p> + +<p>Polly agreed. “But,” she added, “I should not +think Bill would like to quarter herself on Robert +and Theresa for the rest of her life; that is what it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>would amount to, for she could never be a governess +and come and go as you could. It was very kind of +them to offer it, but I should not think Bill would +take it, except, of course, just for the present. I +know I should not.”</p> + +<p>“You will mostly take all you can get,” Bill +observed not without truth. Before Polly could +deny the charge she asked: “On whom does your +plan depend? Not on Bella; she evidently has +nothing to do with it; have I?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Bill,” Polly said severely; “it is for your +good as well as mine. You don’t deserve to be considered, +but I have a sense of responsibility.”</p> + +<p>“What can I do that is any good to you?” Bill +speculated. “What is it, Polly? Something you +hardly expect me to do?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the sort! I should always expect +you to do as I wished, especially as I am your +guardian.”</p> + +<p>An audience of two was quite sufficient for Polly, +who even when alone could hardly refrain from +taking a part. Bill knew the value of her efforts. +“What is your plan?” she asked simply, and Polly, +after a few more preliminary flourishes, set it forth. +Briefly it was this: to let things remain as arranged +with Mr. Brownlow until Christmas, when the lease +of the house expired; then to give up the school,—sell +it if there was anything to sell—Bella to obtain a +situation as resident governess, making Haylands her +home in the holidays; Polly and Bill to move to +London or the suburbs—</p> + +<p>“And take lodgers!” cried Bill.</p> + +<p>“Yes, probably,” Polly said; “we should not +have enough to live on without doing something, and +that would be the best we could do. I have thought +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>about boarders, but that won’t do; you want more +capital for a boarding house; besides boarders are a +nuisance, nor do they really pay so well as lodgers, +though of course they sound much better. We +need not tell people about here that we are letting +lodgings; we can say we are taking a few paying +guests, because we could not get a house small +enough for just our two selves.”</p> + +<p>This plan, except for the unnecessary deception, +met with Bella’s entire approval. Bill, to Polly’s +annoyance, did not give an opinion, but sat thinking, +probably of what part she was to play and why she, +rather than Bella, had been chosen for the venture. +The same question occurred to Bella. “Why should +not you and I do this?” she asked. “I should do +just as well as Bill, and besides, we should have more +capital as I could put my money into it. And then +there would be no need to upset Robert’s arrangement; +I am sure he really meant Bill to make Haylands +her home.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Bella”—Polly was motherly—“there +are two or three reasons why it should not be you. +To begin with, you are too pretty; our lodgers +will probably be men, very likely young city men,—you +understand? To go on with, why should +not Bill be independent? If she puts her share of +the money in and helps me she would be independent +in a measure, and I certainly know of no other way +in which she could be.”</p> + +<p>Bella was not altogether satisfied; but Bill was, +for she had solved the problem on her own account. +“There is going to be no servant kept in that +house!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“What nonsense!” Bella said, and Polly explained +that she should have a girl. Then they talked the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span>plan over afresh, Bill remaining aggravatingly silent. +At last, Bella going into the kitchen to speak to the +maid, Polly turned angrily to the table where the +small figure was almost lost in the darkness. “I +suppose,” she said sharply, “you are going to oppose +me?”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed softly. “Fancy you being afraid of +me and my opposition,” she said half to herself.</p> + +<p>Polly did not attempt to deny the fact. “You +are the most obstinate, contrary, silly little creature +in the world,” was her only answer.</p> + +<p>Bill seemed still more amused. “Why did you +let me know you were afraid?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“What is the good of pretending?” was Polly’s +only answer, and Bill quoted some past words of her +cousin’s in reply. “‘Truth is a luxury poor people +cannot always afford;’ I have heard you give that to +somebody as an excuse for your pretending. I don’t +think it a very good one myself, but I have heard +you make it. I suppose you can afford to be truthful +with me?”</p> + +<p>“I am not going to pretend with you,” Polly said. +“Look here, Bill, you are only a child and you are +very ignorant and not at all clever,—I hope you don’t +mind me saying these things, I am only telling the +plain truth—you are all this, but in some respects +you have much more sense than Bella and Theresa; +you have more vitality, more—I don’t know what—but +more backbone; you are not so much a Brownlow, +not a Brownlow at all.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you.” Bill did not seem overwhelmed +with the flattery.</p> + +<p>“What is your objection?” Polly asked after a +pause: “I suppose you think you would have to +work too hard.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>“No I don’t. Oh, no I don’t at all; we should +share the work out fairly, Polly, very fairly.”</p> + +<p>Just then Bella came back, and the discussion was +dropped, but Polly was not altogether dissatisfied, +concluding from Bill’s manner then, and later, that +she would probably fall in with the plan when the +time came. As for Bill there was no hesitation in +her mind about accepting the proposition; there was +nothing else she could do, for she could not live with +Robert and Theresa permanently, unless they would +let her work their garden for a profit and look upon +the proceeds as payment from her. They would not +let her do this, so, though she would have preferred +the garden to the lodgings, she was quite willing to +accept the latter, since the former was unattainable. +Live with Theresa without the garden she would +not, for she had discovered, or rather she had gradually +come to know of certain things which led her to +believe that Theresa and Robert could not afford to +offer her a permanent home. “I don’t believe +Theresa knows,” she said to herself, “or if she does, +she does not realise how things are. I wonder if +Robert does? He was always telling me separate +bits; I wonder if he looks at things whole; but he +must, of course he must do so.”</p> + +<p>These thoughts occupied Bill’s mind a good deal, +and another was added to them at this time, surprise +at her own power over Polly. Either openly or +covertly Polly’s will had been supreme at Langford +House; she had always planned and decided for +them all; it was a strange and wonderful thing that +she should have considered Bill in this plan, feared +her opposition even while she sought her help—strange +yet perhaps not altogether unreasonable. +Bill felt a childish amusement in the novelty of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>situation, and also a sense of responsibility. But of +course she had, and she knew she had, a certain compelling +power over Polly, else why had she taken +her to Wood Hall? Shrewd, unprincipled Polly! +To be sure, Bill did not call her that: she did not think +about her principles, but, true to her nature, accepted +her cousin as she found her, and never judged her at +all.</p> + +<p>What with one thing and another Bill seemed to +be fast growing older: when she went back to +Ashelton at the end of May she felt that years instead +of weeks had elapsed since she had left it. A month +makes a difference to the country in the spring-time, +and she noticed many changes during the drive to +Haylands. The grass had grown: in some of the +fields it had come up into little billows, where a patch +of more fertile soil had caused some part to rise +above the rest; in other fields it was all long and +soft, spiked here and there with the shafts of its +unopened flowers. Everywhere there were butter-cups, +a golden cloth of butter-cups; everywhere +hawthorn, each hedge snow-powdered with its +blossom, each thorn-bush a bride in its white veil. +The earth had been busy, Bill felt, very busy; the +early fruit was set in the orchard, the blossom was off +the apples, the oaks fully in leaf, the cow-parsley, +waist-high, made every ditch a fairy-land.</p> + +<p>It had all changed very much, and Bill felt that +she had changed too; then she turned to the garden, +and in a sudden rebound from the trouble of the +past weeks forgot about herself and her changes. +There was so much, so very much to be done, to +have lost a month at this time of year was a sad +thing. She worked desperately, enthusiastically, to +make up for it; and at dusk she struck work and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>forgot all about her age and her responsibilities, +wandering forth with Shakespeare’s fairies (she knew +them all by heart now) into the orchard and the +fields and the deep, grass-grown ditches almost as +if she expected to find the fairy-folk there.</p> + +<p>And thus it was that Gilchrist Harborough found +her. During her absence at Wrugglesby he had +debated his problem of natural selection more than +once, and had at last decided to let matters drift. +He did not phrase his decision thus; he put it that, +since he was not likely to see her again for a long +time, it was not worth thinking about it any more. +So he did not think; indeed, he thought so little that, +when he saw Bill again, he forgot the problem and +never for an instant thought of her as an integral +part of it, or as a practical farmer’s wife, or anything +else practical. He himself on that occasion could +hardly be regarded as a practical person seeking a +wife in a cool and reasonable manner. There was no +suggestion of a carefully thought out plan about it; +it was just man and woman, and the dewy fragrance +of trodden grass in the dusk of an evening when +May and June meet to make it neither spring nor +summer but a mid-heaven between.</p> + +<p>He heard Bill’s curious many-noted voice as he +passed down the lane where he had talked with her +on the day they first spoke of Robert Morton. She +had been in the orchard then, as she was now. She +had discovered an echo in the orchard,—the back of +some barns, the end of an old wall, something caused +it; it pleased her, and she sang softly, pausing to hear +the repeated sound. “Fearest to love me”—and +“love me” came the echo distinctly. “Love me,” +she cried again to the clear repetition, “love me—me!” +answering the sound as it answered her, till the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>twilight seemed filled with passionate whispering +melody.</p> + +<p>Harborough stopped abruptly. If he had been +wise he would have gone on, but he forgot to be +wise; we are none of us always wise. The old love-song +had wooed another on a summer night long +ago; it held him now, it roused something in him, +and he could not go. The singer ceased; she must +have felt his presence, for she turned where she stood +knee-deep in the coarse grasses and white-flowered +weeds, and saw him leaning against the gate.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” he said; “finish it.”</p> + +<p>It was perhaps not a polite form of greeting after +her weeks of absence and trouble, but he had forgotten +that; he had forgotten everything in his +desire to hear the words that he knew should follow. +The natural man in him was urging him to leap the +gate, to stand beside her, and to make her say those +words for him.</p> + +<p>She hesitated in silence for a moment. In the +dusk she could not see his face very clearly, yet she +must have known that the self in him to which she +appealed was in the ascendant; she wanted to play +and to make him play, yet she was half afraid. +“No,” she said standing still among the grasses.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he answered, “yes—I will come and make +you!”</p> + +<p>Then the witchcraft of the night took possession +of her, and the unnamed, irresistible impulses, thought +of our simple ancestry to be born of the elfin-folk, +came upon her. “Come then!” she cried.</p> + +<p>In an instant he was over the gate, under the +green twilight of the apple-trees, among the grasses +where she stood. But she, now wild as a kitten +at evening, had fled; from the denser shadow +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>of the nut-bushes she called to him, yet when he +reached their shade her voice came from a far corner +of the orchard—“Fearest to love me—fearest”—and +because she was now in the best possible position for +her echo the answer came back “Fearest,” “fearest!” +till it was hard to say which was the fickle varying +voice and which the repeated sound.</p> + +<p>It was like hunting a shadow, about as easy, about +as wise, but—but he was young and she was younger +still, and the earth redecked was young too, young +with eternal youth. The fragrance of its breath was +like wine to them, the scent of the falling laburnum +and lilac in the garden, the smell of the hawthorn in +the hedge, the trodden grass under foot, the dew that +was upon the ground, the wind that whispered in the +darkness of the trees. He was intoxicated with it, +intoxicated with the chase; an instinct of the days +when man wooed maid with swiftness of foot and +strength of arm was upon him. He was—ah, well, +it did not matter, there was no explanation; only +when suddenly he startled her all unawares among +the tall weeds, he completed the line which surprise +had stayed on her lips. “Fearest,” she had called +thinking him far away; and “To love me?” he +finished, crushing her to silence in his arms.</p> + +<p>For a moment she was still in his arms; it might +have been her will, it might not;—then, with a +sudden effort she wrenched herself free, and he was +alone in the darkening orchard.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV.<br> +<small>THE COURTSHIP OF HARBOROUGH OF CROWS’ FARM.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Man</span> is a triple development; call him, body, soul +and spirit, or mind, matter and extension,—he is, +however regarded, a trinity. A man who recognises +his three natures (which fortunately all do not), and +who in his wife or work gratifies two of the three, is +asking much of Providence when he complains that +the third is unsatisfied. Yet this was Gilchrist Harborough’s +case. Mind had counselled him to seek +Wilhelmina Alardy as his wife; reason pointed out +her unique suitability to his requirements; common-sense +told him that she was exactly and precisely the +person for all practical purposes. Yet he had +hesitated, perhaps because he had an intuitive, if unexpressed, +idea that such excellent logic was not +always the best foundation for domestic happiness. +That was a month ago; but then, last night in the +twilight came Matter, and, forgetting Mind’s cool +selection, discovered that the girl was desirable, sought +and made her captive in a somewhat savage fashion, +asking no better reason than her voice, no stronger +proof than her contact when his arms held her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>Yet in the morning the man was not satisfied with +this double choice. To begin with, he despised himself +because he had allowed Matter to get the upper +hand; as a consequence he—well, no, he did not +exactly despise the cause—but at least he did not +altogether respect her just then. “The woman +tempted me,”—it was a coward’s excuse and he would +not make it. She was not to blame, at least not +much; he would do her justice. And he honestly +tried, though he did not altogether succeed, for he +did not understand the childish folly which had +prompted her to the game in the orchard. Sheer +folly it had been, and nothing more; she knew +nothing of his sensations and emotions, and his +capture of her at the end had come like a thunderclap +in its stunning suddenness and left her even now +not fully aware of the true state of the case.</p> + +<p>So Harborough in his mind did her justice so far +as he could; and in his actions he determined without +delay to explain his equivocal words of last night and +make her a formal offer of marriage. And when he +felt not altogether glad about this decision, he reminded +himself how entirely reason had chosen her +before impulse had dictated last night’s words. As +for the ideal, the fair and stately woman, a queen with +holy face and ways of gentle dignity,—there was not +room at his hearth for her. She could not rise early +to milk his cows; she could not toil and work and +stand beside him in the dirt and drudgery of his +daily round; at least his queen could not, for so she +would not be queen. There is doubtless a dignity +in labour, but it is not easily discernible when labour +is translated into soap and water, mud and ashes, red +hands and tumbled hair. He could not afford an +ideal: he did not need a woman to worship, but one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span>to live with, human, likeable, one to work with, +strong, capable,—and he went to look for Bill.</p> + +<p>But Bill was not easy to find; she should have +been working in the garden at this time, but from +the field-path he could not see her. He retraced his +steps, and from another point sought her as unsuccessfully. +He climbed a little hill and looked +down upon the garden, but she was not there. Then +he went back, by way of the lane, to the orchard, +but she was not there either; she must have gone on +some message for Theresa: he would come again in +the afternoon, and find her then. But he did not +find her, for then, as earlier, she saw him coming and +ran away to hide. She did not exactly know why; +she was afraid of what he would say, of what he +had said; she did not altogether understand herself +or him or anything; only she was afraid. She +longed to tell someone,—Mr. Dane—her world held +no one else who was likely to be of any use. She +would have liked to tell him as she told him of +Harborough of Gurnett, but, for some reason that +she could not fathom, she was ashamed; so she only +worked hard and tried not to think, and when she saw +her lover coming (if lover he was) she hid herself.</p> + +<p>But Gilchrist Harborough was not to be turned +from his purpose like this, and, having sought her in +vain the next day, he presented himself at the house +in the evening and asked Jessie for Miss Alardy. It +was raining, a fine soft rain, which rejoiced the heart +and made things almost grow before the eyes. Bill +would be indoors now, for the rain clouds had closed +the evening in early, and in the drawing-room, where +he waited, it seemed already dark.</p> + +<p>Jessie went to find Bill. “She has just gone to +the attic for a sieve,” Theresa said, and Jessie went +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>up the attic-stairs. “Miss Bill!” she called, standing +at the top and looking down the long passage from +the right of which the three attics opened. The +place looked ghostly in the grey twilight; there was +a spot of wet on the low ceiling, the roof leaked by +the chimney where the starlings had built last year, +there was a great hole in the floor under the window, +and there were rats in the attic. Jessie gathered her +skirts about her, and, after a preliminary <i>sh-oo!</i> to +frighten any chance creatures that might be about, +came into the passage. “Miss Bill,” she called +again, “you’re wanted; Mr. Harborough wants to +see you.”</p> + +<p>Now that was precisely the information for which +Bill was waiting. She had heard the door-bell ring +as she looked over some tools in the back attic, but +she had not associated the sound with herself until +Jessie began to ascend the stairs. Then she had +guessed that the visitor was Gilchrist Harborough, +and that he had come to see her. She fully intended +to go down and see him; it was, of course, what she +must do, and there certainly was no reason why she +should not; yet when she heard Jessie’s voice an +uncontrollable impulse to escape took possession of +her. She looked round; there was no escape, no +way out but the door by which Jessie would enter. +The door of a big cupboard, however, stood ajar +behind her; quick as thought she opened it, pulled +it to after her and stood pressed against the wall +within, holding the door close by its rough planking.</p> + +<p>Jessie peeped into each of the attics in turn, and +then muttering, “She ain’t here after all,” went +down-stairs again; but Bill remained in the cupboard +till she heard the front door shut after Harborough. +It was some time, for they looked thoroughly for her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>before he went away. Her prison was cramped, +dark, and very close, and there was a warm smell +of old hops about it which afterwards she always +associated with that evening and her folly. It +was folly, and as such she regretted it when it was +too late and would have gladly undone it if she +could.</p> + +<p>Later, when she came down-stairs, Theresa told her +of Harborough’s visit and asked her where she was +when they called her. She did not tell and her reply, +guardedly given, left only a vague impression on her +cousin’s mind. Theresa, believing she must have +gone to the barn with her tools, thought no more +about it until the next afternoon when Harborough +presented himself again. This time he asked for +Theresa, having learned from Robert that his wife +and Polly were left guardians of their young cousin.</p> + +<p>It was Sunday, and by Theresa’s invitation Bella +and Polly had walked from Wrugglesby that morning +to spend the day at Haylands; they had come early +and would stay till the evening, when Robert was +going to drive them home. Polly was dozing +placidly on the dining-room sofa when Harborough +came, and Bill was curled up in the orchard with a +book, oblivious alike of impending events and the +dampness of the grass. Harborough might almost +have caught her now had he tried; but he did not, +for he decided that his best plan would be to apply +in the old-fashioned way to Mrs. Morton for permission +to address her cousin.</p> + +<p>Accordingly he did so, and he did it with some +self-possession, for the whole thing was now very +clear in his own mind and he wished to get it settled. +It was, after all, to him a very simple and straightforward +matter now.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>But to Theresa it was very different, very overwhelming, +it might almost be said, in its unexpectedness. +She gazed at him blankly for a moment, too +much astonished for speech. “Bill?” she said at +last, “Bill? She is a child!”</p> + +<p>“She is young,” Harborough admitted, “but she +must be nearly eighteen; that is not so very young, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“She is not eighteen till the winter; we have +always looked upon her as a child. You must +forgive my astonishment, she seems such a child +to us.”</p> + +<p>Harborough said he could easily understand her +feelings; indeed, he allowed, in some respects Bill +seemed a child to him, though in others the very +reverse.</p> + +<p>“She is very capable,” Theresa said, “but I am +afraid when you come to speak to her on this subject +you will find her very childish,—I mean, she will be +so unprepared for it, it will be difficult.”</p> + +<p>Harborough smiled slightly. “I do not think it +will be an entire surprise to her,” he said. “I do +not mean that I know how she will receive me, but +that I should come will not, I fancy, altogether +astonish her.”</p> + +<p>Theresa felt more and more bewildered. “I think +you must be mistaken,” was all she could say; but +he was persistent in his opinion, and certainly, +whether he was right or wrong, there was no valid +reason why he should not speak to Bill. Theresa, +however, still believing in the girl’s complete ignorance, +stipulated for one thing: Bill’s decision, whatever +it was, should not be considered final. “For,” +Theresa said, “I am very much afraid she will not +really know her own mind.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>Harborough acquiesced to this, and also to the +suggestion that Polly should be consulted. “She is +here now,” Theresa told him; “perhaps it would be +better if you were to see her, as Bill is really more +her charge than mine.”</p> + +<p>Harborough had no particular wish to consult the +unknown Polly, but he could not do less than agree, +so Theresa went to find her. She was still dozing on +the sofa in the dining-room, and there was no one +else there. Theresa roused her and told her the +news briefly, wishing the while that Polly had not +slept so soundly, and fearing lest she should not fully +understand. But she need have had no fears; Polly +grasped the situation completely. “Has he any +money?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, oh yes, some, not a great deal, of course; +he has a little farm. But, Polly, Bill—”</p> + +<p>“A farm? Oh, he is the man who lives by himself +and does his own work to prove something, I +remember. That will just suit Bill.”</p> + +<p>Polly got up, went to the glass above the mantelpiece +and began to arrange her front hair.</p> + +<p>“It is impossible to think of that child marrying +him, of her marrying anyone yet,” Theresa protested.</p> + +<p>Polly did not think so. “I don’t see why she +should not,” she said coolly; “you may be pretty +sure she has given him encouragement, or he would +not come here like this.”</p> + +<p>“That proves nothing,” said Theresa. “He does +not know in the least whether she will have him or +not; he spoke to me first because she is so very +young.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly, but she knows what is coming; he as +good as told you so.”</p> + +<p>“He is mistaken; I am sure he is.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>“I’ll tell you whether I think so or not after I +have seen him. I don’t much expect he is; and +knowing Bill as well as I do, well—” Polly broke +off and with an impressive silence conveyed more +than words could.</p> + +<p>Theresa did not altogether believe her, but she felt +that she herself was far from understanding Bill. +“At all events,” she said, “I told him he could +speak to her. There is nothing against him as far as +I know, and whatever she says now is not to be +considered absolutely binding.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” Polly stopped abruptly +to ask the question as she was opening the door.</p> + +<p>“I mean,” Theresa answered, “that if she accepts +him she is not to be considered engaged; she shall be +free to change her mind if she likes, for I am sure +she cannot really know anything about it.”</p> + +<p>“Not to be engaged?” Polly repeated. “Is it to +be kept private? No one is to be told, we are to have +no hold over him?”</p> + +<p>“I will not have her bound; it is not right,—you +can’t think it right.”</p> + +<p>Theresa was surprised at Polly’s manner, and still +more surprised when she turned upon her in low-voiced +wrath,—“You idiot!” she said.</p> + +<p>“Polly!” Theresa exclaimed reddening, and then +added: “I will not have it; mind, I will not have +her bound!”</p> + +<p>And then the two passed into the drawing-room. +Polly was affability itself; she spoke of “dear little +Wilhelmina’s” youth, and of her own surprise, but +held out some hopes of success to Harborough, who +did not altogether trust her, though owing to her +skill he did not distrust her as much as might have +been expected. Nothing was said about Theresa’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>condition, except that as Harborough was leaving she +repeated it, and Polly, unable to do anything else, +seconded her.</p> + +<p>“I expect he wanted to see Bill this afternoon,” +Theresa said when he had gone.</p> + +<p>“I expect he did,” Polly replied; “but I want to see +her first. I mean to know what she has been doing.”</p> + +<p>“What she intends to do,” was also part of Polly’s +meaning, and she set off at once to the orchard, +feeling the remainder of the afternoon was all too +short for her investigations.</p> + +<p>“Bill,” she said, sitting down beside her cousin on +a cushion she had brought for the purpose, “Bill, +what about Mr. Harborough?” Polly wasted no +time over preliminaries. “The Mr. Harborough +who lives here, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“What about him?” Bill inquired, looking up +from her book.</p> + +<p>Polly closed the book for her. “Yes, what?” she +said. “When and where have you seen him?”</p> + +<p>“Oh in lots of places,—why? He does not +belong to Wood Hall.”</p> + +<p>“I know that. Bill,” she added suddenly, “has +he been making love to you?”</p> + +<p>Then the time had come; Bill felt it intuitively +and braced herself to meet it. But for the life of her +she would have found it hard to say whether he had +or had not committed the offence in question. She +would not permit herself to do more than ask +cautiously, “Why?”</p> + +<p>“He has!” Polly exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m not sure;” and Bill so evidently +meant what she said that Polly for a moment was +nonplussed. “He has been here this afternoon,” she +said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>“To see me?” Bill asked, and Polly felt that was +something of an admission. “No,” she answered, +“to see Theresa and me about you.”</p> + +<p>“Whatever for?”</p> + +<p>“To ask our permission—”</p> + +<p>“To make love to me?” At first the idea struck +Bill as comical, but its gravity soon came home to +her.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you think that absurd,” Polly said, +“since he has already done it without our permission; +and he has done it, Bill, or something very like it. +It is no use denying it; something must have +happened, something fairly pronounced, before a man +of his stamp would come to Theresa and me as he +came this afternoon. You must have given him very +direct encouragement.”</p> + +<p>Polly paused for Bill to deny the charge, but the +denial did not come; the girl sat silently considering +the matter, tearing a leaf to pieces as she did so.</p> + +<p>“Well?” Polly said at last interrogatively.</p> + +<p>“Did he tell you I had encouraged him? I mean, +did he absolutely say so? I shall ask him myself if I +think you are deceiving me.”</p> + +<p>Polly thought it very likely that she would do so, +and accordingly made answer: “No, of course he did +not say so in so many words, but his coming to us +showed it; besides he told Theresa, when she +said you would be astonished, that he did not think +you would be, that he had reason to believe you +expected him.” <i>Not be surprised to see him</i> and +<i>expected him</i> were convertible, if not synonymous, +terms.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” was Bill’s only answer.</p> + +<p>“Did you expect him?” Polly demanded.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I did; I don’t know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span>“You must know what you expect if you are not +absolutely stupid, and you might as well be honest +about it; some people would have a good deal to say +about your underhand dealings.”</p> + +<p>Bill suggested that her cousin should say all she +wished on the subject, but Polly, regarding it as a +waste of time, went on to observe with dignity: “I +don’t want to inquire into your actions nor yet your +intentions, but all I can say is that you have made an +honourable man,—a good man, Bill—believe you care +for him; and if you do not, if you mean nothing, +you must settle the matter with him.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe you!” Bill exclaimed. “I ran +away from him, though I did tell him to come—I +was only in fun—he hardly held—”</p> + +<p>She broke off, feeling that she could not lay the +matter bare to her cousin. Polly was disappointed at +the confession ending so abruptly, but she only said: +“Tell him you were only in fun. If he knew you as +well as I do he might not be surprised at such a +questionable proceeding; but as he loves you, I am +afraid it will be rather a shock to him.”</p> + +<p>“Loves me!—he loves me!” Bill repeated the +words gently, her whole face softening. She had not +thought of this before. She had such high, idyllic +notions of love, hardly definite notions at all, only a +feeling that it was very great and supreme and far +removed from her own life.</p> + +<p>“Of course he does,” Polly said, surprised at having +touched an answering chord here, “else why should +he want to marry you? You have nothing to recommend +you.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Bill admitted, “no, I have not. How +strange that he should want to marry me,—how +strange and wonderful!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>She sat looking across the orchard, her eyes filled +with a great shining, her heart thrilled with gratitude +to one who could love her. For herself, she did not +know; his emotion would arouse an answering emotion +in her; if he loved her she could not choose but love +him, just as when he held her she could not choose +but stay for just a moment. She was very humble +and submissive in heart just then.</p> + +<p>On the whole Polly was well satisfied with her talk. +Bill would accept Harborough. Two things were in +his favour, the girl’s joy and pride in this, the first +love offered to her, her innocence of life and all it +held, and also her curious, one-sided sense of honour. +The first, aided by her oddly sympathetic, almost reflective, +nature, would make her wish to accept the +lover; the second, aided by Polly’s statement of the +case, would make it impossible for her to refuse the +man. So Polly was satisfied that Bill would marry +Harborough; probably next summer, as Theresa +would not allow it before then, and Polly herself did +not wish it. She wanted to begin her lodging-venture +in the winter, and, though she would take Bella into +partnership when Bill was married, she would prefer +to have the younger cousin at the beginning of the +enterprise. She considered that Bill was now settled +for life, her future assured in a most unexpected +fashion. Harborough, she judged, was the sort of +man she could depend upon to do his duty by his +wife, and in spite of Theresa’s words, she would take +care that at least a little of the arrangement was +known to a few mutual friends. In this laudable +intention, however, she was eventually frustrated by +Bill. She had reckoned that Bill would see no reason +for secrecy; being sure of herself, whatever motives +ruled her decision now would rule it in a year’s time, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>and so she would oppose Theresa. But she did no +such thing, not because she objected to publicity or +saw any reason against it, but because Polly was in +favour of it and Theresa against it.</p> + +<p>“It may be wise,” she said to Polly, “if you urge +it, but if Theresa does it is right; in this I would +rather do what is right than wise.”</p> + +<p>In vain Polly pointed out the wisdom, and explained +that publicity was the only hold they had. +Bill retorted haughtily that she wished for no hold, +and went on to add that, if any rumour of her affairs +should get about, she should consider Polly the culprit, +and behave accordingly. And Polly, having an +inward conviction that she would keep her word in +some unpleasant way, was obliged to remain silent.</p> + +<p>On that same Sunday evening, when Harborough +spoke to the cousins, came Theresa to Bill’s room +after she had gone to bed, and kissed her and cried +over her and asked her if she really loved him. And +Bill flung her arms round the young wife’s neck, +almost suffocating her in the wealth of her hair, and +said she did not know, feeling vaguely sorry for +Theresa, and wondering if loving and being loved +always brought tears.</p> + +<p>All the next day she was quiet and subdued, and +in the evening the time came. She went into the +orchard, thinking it likely that he would come down +the lane to her. He did come; he saw her, and +jumped the gate and came to her as she stood in the +soft grass, her heart beating, a shy fearing happiness +in her half-awakened soul. He came to her striding +over the grass in the twilight of the apple-trees; but +he did not know the tumult in her breast, did not +recognise the half-awakened womanhood. He was +not to-night, as once before, the strong man wooing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>the maid, nor was he the lover come to claim a girl’s +heart. He came to ask her to be his wife because he +believed it right to do so, because he believed it wise, +because he thought for all practical purposes she was +the woman best suited to his needs. He had desired +her, it is true, but to-night it was not desire, not +impulse; it was a deliberate plan, the wise performance +of a wise act. But it lacked fire, lacked it +woefully. And she, who shyly lifted shining eyes to +those of the sober lover, could not kindle it; nay, +she herself was not the same as the alluring shadow +of the other night. He did not love the woman; +the elf-child fascinated him, the housewife pleased +him, but the woman he did not recognise. The best +of his nature was untouched by her; he knew that +he did not in the highest sense love her, and he did +not pretend that he did. But, the pity was she +thought he did; they had told her so, and, after all, +as <i>to love</i> is often translated into daily life, perhaps +they were right, though in her idyllic, almost childish +rendering of the word, they were entirely and hopelessly +wrong.</p> + +<p>So the question was asked and answered under the +lichen-covered branches; coolly, dispassionately, yet +withal gently he asked; shyly she answered, not yet +aware of the lack in it all. She was so ignorant, what +should she know of love’s ways? So awed, she could +not criticise his words, so subdued and humble she +could not doubt him. Thus she gave her word not +knowing, stood awhile under the trees a little disappointed +but not yet aware, and bade him good-bye +with only a half-wakened doubt.</p> + +<p>He left her, thinking perhaps she would prefer to +see her cousin alone first, refusing her invitation to +come to the house from a sense of delicacy. She did +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>not know his reason, but she was vaguely glad he +refused. They walked together to the gate, talking +ordinarily, rationally, his manner as usual, hers as +calm as it was reflective of his. There was no passion, +no shyness; it would not have been embarrassing to +meet Theresa, though she was glad they were not +going to meet her. Glad, too, she was, consciously +glad that he was going; she wanted him to go,—she +hated to have him there—she was beginning to realise +the lack in it all.</p> + +<p>They parted at the orchard-gate; the first wild +roses were opening, their fragrance filled the air, +a spray showed faintly pink against the girl’s hair +as she leaned over the gate. Something in the +scent and the face, half seen in the twilight, stirred +Harborough; he made an impulsive movement, but +he had himself well in hand that night, and the impulse +ended in nothing more than stooping to kiss +her without any demonstration of emotion. So he +bade her good-bye and went, she standing to watch +him till he was lost in the dusk of the summer night, +standing to watch him quite calmly though her breast +heaved, until he was out of sight; then with a movement +of passionate rage she wiped the kiss from her +face and flung the handkerchief into the hedge.</p> + +<p>“He did not make love to me a little bit!” she +wailed. “‘Will you marry me?’ ‘Will you scrub +the floor?’ It might as well have been one as the +other. ‘Can you make butter?’ ‘Can you love +me?’ Can I? I could hate you! How I shall +hate you, if you don’t take care!”</p> + +<p>There was someone talking in the garden, Theresa +and Robert perhaps; she almost thought it was, and +fearful of discovery crept into the deep dry ditch and +lay hid among the tall stalks of the cow-parsley. In +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>that green darkness she sobbed out her grief for the +loss of her dream, the dream of loving and being +loved which comes to all women at some time. It +had come to her only yesterday; it had died unborn +to-day,—unborn, for she did not love the man; had +he loved her, or had he wooed her with the passion +of the other night, her responsive nature might have +replied, or at least she would have thought it did. +But he had not done so, and the thing was only a +dream; loving and being loved,—both must be +mourned as never known, both buried together in +the twilight of the white-flowered weeds. +Nevertheless she was in honour bound to the man, +that curious, distorted, inviolable law of honour which +she had from some ancestry and could not break. +The spoken word must be fulfilled, the unspoken +pledge redeemed, the unconscious encouragement, of +which Polly had made so much, justified. Polly had +done well to trust to this other bond.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV.<br> +<small>FAMILY HISTORY.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Wagnall</span> was an antiquary, avowedly an +antiquary. A man of means and leisure, he had +ample time to devote to his subject, and so well +had he devoted it that there was unknown to him +little that was strange in family tradition and village +history throughout the Eastern Counties, which, as +his birthplace and home, were the principal scenes of +his research. He never studied architecture or +building to any great extent; churches, Druidical +stones, and Roman remains had little charm for him; +the land and those who owned it chiefly claimed +his attention. He had at one time intended to +follow the profession of the law, and had spent +his earlier days in a solicitor’s office; it was this +early training, possibly, which gave him his taste +for family histories and involved land tenures. One +other thing he owed to it,—and that was of more +obvious value than his love of land-lore—a friend, in +the person of a former fellow-student now developed +into Stevens, solicitor of Wrugglesby, consulted by +Mr. Johnson on the subject of the Harborough +chapel and the service held therein.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>Now and again Mr. Wagnall visited his friend at +Wrugglesby, and it happened that this very subject +of the Harborough chapel and service brought him +there at the time that Gilchrist Harborough was +arranging his matrimonial affairs at Ashelton. About +this time Mr. Stevens, remembering that he had not +seen his friend lately, wrote to invite him to the little +town, at the same time mentioning such affairs of +interest as had recently taken place. The Harborough +service was not a recent event, but he had +not written since it occurred, and, knowing his +friend’s love of such things, he used it, and the +chance of investigating it, as an inducement to his +friend to visit Wrugglesby. Events justified his +expectations; Mr. Wagnall accepted his invitation, +came to Wrugglesby at the earliest possible date, and +plagued his host with questions, seeking information +about “this most interesting revival.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens was obliged to confess himself not +very well informed on the subject, but in a happy +moment Mrs. Stevens thought of inviting Mr. and +Mrs. Johnson to meet the antiquary. She had no +notion of satisfying his thirst for information, her +idea being solely to give an entertainment. She was +a lady of aspiring mind, and longed for society on +other lines than those obtainable at the solemn +dinners and more humble teas which were in +vogue in Wrugglesby. Mr. Johnson was particularly +flattered by the pointed way in which Mr. +Wagnall singled him out for conversation, and the +interest with which he listened to all he had to +say about the Harborough chapel and service. Considering +the warmth his feelings still retained on +these subjects, he was a little disappointed to find his +patient listener of the opinion that the family had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>a right to hold a service in their own chapel, +according to their professed religion, even during the +time of morning prayer.</p> + +<p>“Mind, I do not say they have a legal right,” the +antiquary said, “though I am of opinion it would be +difficult to get a decision against them; but whatever +their legal right, they have a moral right, most +decidedly a moral right. I think your rector was +wise in his determination to take no steps in the +matter; it is not an occurrence likely to be repeated. +It has not been done within anyone’s memory until +this time; it has not been repeated since then, +and take my word for it, sir, it never will be. +It was done to revive an old right, my dear sir, +that is what it was done for, to revive an old +right and establish a claim; an old family does +not like to let its traditions lapse entirely.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson thought this was a very probable +explanation of the “outrage,” though, as he pointed +out, there was no necessity for the mass to have +been said during morning-service; the claim could +have been established without that.</p> + +<p>“Well, yes, yes,” Mr. Wagnall admitted; “still it +would hardly have been so emphatic; no, under those +circumstances, it would not have been so emphatic.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Johnson again agreed with him. He also +asked Mr. Wagnall if he would care to walk over +some day and have a look at the Harborough +chapel, offering to act as cicerone should he do +so. Mr. Wagnall accepted the offer with pleasure, +and from that they got to talking about the Harboroughs +and their family history, with which Mr. +Wagnall was very well acquainted, though he did +not attempt to set the clergyman right even when he +gave sundry strange pieces of information about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>them. There was, however, one piece of information +given which was both new and interesting to +Mr. Wagnall,—the existence of Gilchrist Harborough +of Crows’ Farm.</p> + +<p>“A member of the family he—” “may be,” Mr. +Johnson was going to say, preparatory to enlarging +upon his nature and pursuits, but Mr. Wagnall cut +him short.</p> + +<p>“Of course he is a member of the family,” he +said; “Gilchrist is a family name, the next heir +to the property is a Gilchrist. You would not get +Gilchrist and Harborough in combination without +some connection with the old stock.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” said Mr. Johnson, “just so, a member +of the family, although he comes from Australia; a +younger branch, I have heard it suggested, though +he claims no connection with the Harboroughs of +Gurnett.”</p> + +<p>“<i>Not</i> a younger branch,” Mr. Wagnall’s tone was +emphatic; “<i>not</i> a younger branch, or he could claim +something more than a connection.”</p> + +<p>Unfortunately for Mr. Johnson’s further enlightenment +the conversation was interrupted here, not to +be resumed again that evening, and he had to +content himself with waiting to hear more until Mr. +Wagnall should come to Ashelton. But Mr. Wagnall +did not have to wait so long for his enlightenment, +for he questioned his host at the earliest +opportunity. From him he learnt little, for Mr. +Stevens was not professionally connected with Harborough +of Gurnett, although he had sometimes +done a little legal work for the agent during the +master’s long absences abroad. Owing to this he +knew something of the affairs of the estate, and, like +most people in the neighbourhood, he also knew the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>name, age, and whereabouts of the next heir, and +sundry of the reports concerning Mr. Harborough +besides. But of Harborough of Crows’ Farm he +knew little, except that he was an Australian with a +theory, that he worked his own farm, and that he +himself had been favourably impressed by the young +man on the occasion when he had personally come +across him. “But,” he concluded, “I shouldn’t +wonder if he was in at the office to-morrow as it is +market-day. He is thinking of buying a bit of +meadow which cuts into his land, and I should not +wonder if he were to look in during the afternoon to +see me about it. You might drop in and meet him if +you like; but I tell you beforehand that he won’t repay +investigation or appreciate it either, and he certainly +won’t know anything about the affair of the mass.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wagnall was by no means discouraged, and +determined to look in at the office on Thursday +afternoon in case the lawyer’s anticipation proved +correct. It did so: Harborough presented himself +somewhere about four o’clock, and almost before his +business was discussed, Mr. Wagnall also presented +himself and was duly introduced to the younger man +as one interested in antiquities in general and family +histories in particular. Harborough himself had +small interest in such things, but he was quite willing +to sympathise with another, and obligingly gave all +the information he could concerning himself and his +family. Of the Harboroughs of Gurnett, their +history and chapel, he knew even less than Mr. +Johnson, but of himself and his own people he told +all he could.</p> + +<p>“But,” he asked, “what purpose does it serve? +We are a long way from this part of the family, a +younger branch who emigrated years ago.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>“If you are a younger branch in direct line, if +you can prove such a thing,—and I cannot help +saying I think it would be difficult—it would be—very +interesting.”</p> + +<p>“Why? Is there no younger branch? You +mean to say you think we come of bastard stock?”</p> + +<p>“No, oh dear no, not at all, not necessarily. Only +the Harboroughs used to hold their estates according +to an old tenure by which the property goes to the +youngest instead of the eldest son, and if you really +were the representative of a younger branch than +those in possession—”</p> + +<p>“I could claim?”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” the lawyer here broke in, “the +Harboroughs have given up that manner of succession +for several generations.”</p> + +<p>“It could be revived,” Mr. Wagnall suggested; +“it would be interesting to revive it, as interesting +as reviving the right to hold service in the chapel.”</p> + +<p>“Interesting from an antiquarian point of view it +might be,” Mr. Stevens observed drily; “but Mr. +Harborough here would find it an expensive form of +amusement. Old Mr. Harborough has been in +possession at Wood Hall for over fifty years, and it +would take something considerable to turn him out +now. Why, bless you, my friend, if I had squatted +unmolested at Wood Hall for all those years you +would find it difficult to turn me out, though I +had not a shadow of right to the place originally. +Possession is rather more than nine points of the law +if you only have it long enough; whatever the +weakness of old Harborough’s original claim you +would find it a tough and expensive job to make +your own good now.”</p> + +<p>Gilchrist Harborough laughed at the lawyer’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>warmth. “I was not thinking of making a claim,” +he said; “I would rather invest my surplus cash +in other and more profitable ways than fighting for +encumbered estates.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens applauded such a decision. “Quite +right,” he said, “quite right, though the estate is +hardly so much encumbered as people think; of late +years old Harborough has lived carefully, and things +are not so bad as they are made out to be. I don’t +mean to say the place is free; it is not, and no doubt +the next man will get into a worse state than ever, +for they are all alike, an extravagant lot. But I +believe a careful man with a little capital and reasonable +ideas, in fact not a Harborough—beg pardon, +I was not thinking of you—might do a good deal +towards getting things straight.”</p> + +<p>“You think so?” Harborough asked. “They +have got to get their reasonable man first, and they +don’t seem great at producing such articles. As for +me, I don’t belong to them; and if I did I don’t +know that I can lay claim to all your requirements, +small capital and reasonable ideas as well. At any +rate, I don’t think I am the man for the job; it does +not seem that I am within measurable distance of the +base of operations.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Mr. Wagnall as he spoke, but the +lawyer answered for him. “No, no, certainly not,” +he said; but Mr. Wagnall asked: “Are you sure +that your family is a younger branch? May it not +be an elder, but, owing to the fact that the idea of +disqualification is usually associated with the younger +ones, you have in the course of time come to consider +yourself as such?”</p> + +<p>Harborough allowed this to be possible, though +he hardly thought it the case. Mr. Wagnall hardly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>thought it likely either. “So far as I know anything +about the family,” he said, “it is not very likely, the +Harboroughs have not been such a prolific family +that the elder and younger ones need be confused. +There never have been many of them; the heads of +the house, as a rule, lived hard and died young, their +legitimate children have been few in number. +Indeed,” the antiquary went on turning to Stevens, +“when you say the old manner of succession has +fallen into disuse you are hardly doing them justice, +for there has not been much choice lately. The +family is practically extinct when the old man dies; +he has no children living; the heir is the grandson +of his only sister, not a Harborough at all except +that he has been given the name. He is an only +son, too, the sole representative of the younger +generation,—strange how these old families seem to +wear themselves out.”</p> + +<p>Gilchrist Harborough did not think it strange at +all, neither did he think it to be regretted; the only +thing which surprised him in the matter was the +interest felt in them and the detailed record kept of +their history. “It is not as if they were anything +much,” he said, “or had done anything much; they +are only twopenny-halfpenny country squires who +have never done anything worth remembering; in +fact, the only thing which can be said about them +is that they have been a little more rich and a good +deal less respectable than their yeoman neighbours.”</p> + +<p>Such a view was not likely to commend itself to +the antiquary, but as he was unable to make his own +view any more commendable to young Harborough, +he had to content himself with admitting the family +under discussion to be country squires, and to have +been country squires so long that they counted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>themselves at least the equals of the newer nobility; +and moreover to have kept their own records and +traditions with jealous care from the days when their +manor was first granted to them, at which time, +doubtless, they were far other than they now were in +the days of their decadence.</p> + +<p>“If the records are kept with such care,” Harborough +observed, “it should be easy to see where I +come in, if come in I do.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Mr. Wagnall agreed; “I can put my +finger on the only spot where at all recently we can +expect to find that your people joined the common +stock. I know something about the Harborough +history; I was enabled through the good offices of a +friend to study it at the time that I was writing my +little volume on <span class="smcap">East Anglian Heirships</span>. You +have perhaps seen the book? It was noticed in +several of the papers.”</p> + +<p>Harborough had not seen it, and it is to be feared +he was less interested in it than in the family history. +Mr. Stevens, seeing that his friend was now well +mounted on his hobby, suggested that he and his +listener should go into the private room, and leave +the office clear for other visitors.</p> + +<p>He half regretted being obliged to do so, for he +felt he was giving the elder man an admirable opportunity +for firing the imagination and ambition of the +younger. Still, as the kind-hearted lawyer reflected, +the young Australian was a cool and well-balanced +individual, with a not too exalted opinion of the value +of landed property and old families to depreciate his +idea of the prize at stake. “He won’t take fire like +a young fellow from about here,” thought the lawyer, +“but if he does he’ll fight and fight to the end.” +And again he wished he could have prevented this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>unearthing of family history. But it was too late, as +he found when, after the young man had gone, he +asked the elder one what had passed.</p> + +<p>“He was very interested, very interested indeed,” +Mr. Wagnall said. “He seems to think it highly +probable that he derives from the Gilchrist Harborough +who turned Protestant and left England in +1843.”</p> + +<p>“In 1843,” the lawyer said raising his eyebrows; +“that brings it very near.”</p> + +<p>“Very near indeed,” Mr. Wagnall replied with +satisfaction; “but so he seems to think.”</p> + +<p>“Seems to think,” Stevens repeated; “that is not +worth much.”</p> + +<p>“To think that he is legitimately derived I should +have said; he is positive that he is derived, he has +excellent reasons for thinking so; it is a mere question +of legitimacy.”</p> + +<p>“It often is with these respectable old families,” +Stevens observed drily. “What did you want to +put all these ideas in his head for? You had much +better have left him alone.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wagnall did not think so; he considered the +whole subject most interesting, and, as he pointed +out, there was a good deal of information he could +not have obtained without this talk with young +Harborough.</p> + +<p>“Who,” Mr. Stevens said, “naturally does not +regard the matter in the same placid way in which +you do, seeing that he has a personal interest in it. +By Jove, though, if it is as you say, and he can prove +the legitimacy, he would have a good case, a very +good case indeed. But he won’t be able to prove it, +sure not,—he would have an infernally good case if +he could!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span>From a purely legal point of view the subject had +less interest for Mr. Wagnall, who had no particular +desire that the right man should come to his own; +and in spite of a genial nature, he felt small compunction +about the trouble which might possibly arise +from his investigations.</p> + +<p>“A nice hornet’s nest you are likely to have +routed out,” said Mr. Stevens, who was differently +constituted, “and a nice squabble there will be! If +Harborough of Crows’ Farm waits till the old man +dies (and the chances are he won’t last another +winter), I should say it will be a bad look-out for +young Kit Harborough. Not that the place is worth +such a great deal, and I dare say he would muddle it +if he got it; but it is hard to lose what you have +always looked upon as your own. The Australian—” +the lawyer laughed a little—“he’s the man I +described after all, the man with a little capital and +reasonable ideas. He might pull the place round, +cut down the timber, put some of the park-land +under cultivation, drive the plough—”</p> + +<p>But Mr. Wagnall cried out in dismay at such +impossible barbarity. Nevertheless it was exactly +what Gilchrist Harborough was thinking as he drove +home by way of Gurnett, and looked thoughtfully at +the woods and broad park-lands which surrounded +the hall. It was exactly too what he said to Bill in +the orchard on the next Sunday afternoon.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI.<br> +<small>A GRANDFATHER.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was now three weeks since the day when Gilchrist +Harborough came to see Theresa and Polly, three +weeks since they told Bill he loved her, almost three +weeks since she found out what they meant by love +and buried her dream among the tall weeds in the +orchard-ditch. The grass was long in the orchard +now, its flowers were covered in seed, brown and +yellow and purple dust blowing off at the lightest +breath. The leaves on the trees were thick, so thick that +when one looked up it seemed an unbroken roof of +green. The year had grown older, much older, it +was the first maturity of summer; the light was the +warmer light of summer, the shadows the slow-moving +shadows of summer; the scents, richer, +fuller, were the scents of summer,—the pink briar-roses +in the hedge, the wreath of honeysuckle from +the tree, the hay half cut in the field beyond the +lane. Spring had gone, and even if its indescribable +freshness and youth were missing one could hardly +ask for anything more than summer.</p> + +<p>Bill’s was a supremely contented disposition; after +her one outburst on the night when Harborough did +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>not make love to her she accepted fate resignedly. +There was, as she herself had said, always to get up +and have breakfast next morning even after a tragedy, +and she was herself what in domestic parlance is called +“a good getter up.” So in the early morning after +Harborough’s formal offer of marriage, she thought +the matter out and put it on a reasonable basis.</p> + +<p>It is true he did not love her in the superlative and +ideal way she had imagined, but then neither did +other people seem to love in that way. She thought +over the married couples of her acquaintance, and +came to the conclusion that they loved each other +after a fashion. Harborough must have loved her +in a fashion, too, or else why had he sought to marry +her, seeing how little she had to commend her? +Yes, he must have loved her, even though he did not +make love to her that night. There were two of +him, she knew, and she also knew that she sometimes +appealed to one of the two, the one that made love, +the lesser and weaker part of his nature. Under +these circumstances she had reason to be glad that +the other part, the cleverer, more dominant part, +liked her well enough to ask her to be his wife. On +the whole she did not find the situation impossible. +Why should she? Her limited experience showed +her no better things; her sunny philosophy led her +to take the world as she found it, teaching her to +judge it according to a more lenient and elastic +standard than any ideal one. It is true that she did +not in the present case quite extend this tolerance +to Harborough; perhaps she unconsciously gauged +his nature, and, measuring it by his own standards, +found his love wanting.</p> + +<p>But on the whole she was moderately content, and +certainly there was no possibility of avoiding the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>contract; honour demanded its fulfilment, and since it +was unavoidable Bill was not likely to dwell on the +dark side. She was pre-eminently of that nature +which, when its hopes are wrecked, makes a fire of +the drift-wood to warm itself and its friends. Moreover, +let it be remembered, to supreme ignorance +and a sunny temperament the life marked out did +not seem an unendurable one. “Besides,” so she had +concluded her reflections that morning when she +faced facts, “there will be the farm and the dairy +and heaps to do.”</p> + +<p>So Bill accepted matters, and she and Harborough +established themselves on an easy and friendly footing +in which love-making played but a small part. +Theresa thought them an extraordinarily prosaic and +matter-of-fact couple, but it suited Harborough well +enough; he did not, as a rule, want to make love to +Bill, and she did not now want him to make love +to her; in fact, she would not now meet any of +his overtures, and had a curiously wayward but +uncompromising way of receiving his occasional +tendernesses. Even in these early days he found +there was a tantalising, untamed trait in her nature +with which it would be hard to deal, and yet which +constantly attracted while it annoyed him. He felt +once or twice that he should like to come to close +quarters with and understand it, even as he had +come to close quarters on the night when he chased +her like a shadow; but the moment for that was +passed, and he could not recapture it; the shadow +always eluded him now. This feeling occasionally +troubled him, but not often, and in other respects +he was satisfied. It was as a matter of course that +he turned his steps to the orchard that Sunday afternoon, +and as a matter of course he told Bill of Mr. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>Wagnall’s words and the extraordinary possibilities +they presented.</p> + +<p>Bill listened with absorbed attention. Wood Hall, +and all that concerned it, had a great fascination for +her, but she could hardly realise that his words +contained a bare chance of its coming within her own +reach.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say,” she said at last, “that +there is any way by which you could claim?”</p> + +<p>“I am not sure,” Harborough answered cautiously, +anxious not to encourage the building of any castles +in the air.</p> + +<p>“Tell me what you mean then,” she said, and he +explained the case as clearly as he could.</p> + +<p>“My grandfather,” he said, “is the nearest we can +get to the Harboroughs of Gurnett; he was called +Gilchrist as I am, and was the middle one of three +brothers. About the year 1843 he quarrelled with +his family and left England; I think he turned +Protestant.”</p> + +<p>“He must have had convictions; I wonder if he +was like you,” Bill observed under her breath with a +particularly provoking look; but Harborough ignored +the remark and went on with his history.</p> + +<p>“Part of this,” he said, “I heard from Mr. +Wagnall on Thursday, part I knew before. I have +always been told that my grandfather left England on +account of a quarrel; the story was usually told me +as a warning against quarrelling, but I don’t know +that it made much impression. What he did after +he left England I do not know, travelled a bit I +think at first, and then the next year he married in +Paris. But his wife’s family, though they were living +in France, were English; indeed it was from my +grandmother, who knew this part of the country, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>that we had the tradition of our people. She does +not seem to have known much about them; my +father always said she was vague in her tales, and +never knew anything personally of her husband’s +relations. My grandfather died the same year that +he married and before his son was born; my grandmother +continued to live on in Paris with her own +people, teaching English, I think, for she must have +been poor from what my father said.”</p> + +<p>“And he?” Bill asked.</p> + +<p>“Lived in Paris too till he was about nineteen +when, my grandmother being dead, he emigrated to +Australia with a notion of gold-mining. At first he +was unlucky; then he married when he was only +twenty-two, and after that his luck changed, but as +soon as he had made enough he cut the mining and +bought a share in a sheep-run. I don’t know if he +would have made anything more at the mining, but +he was not very successful with the sheep; still there +was always enough to live on as far back as I can +remember. I am the second of his three sons; my +elder brother died when he was a boy, my younger +in 1882.”</p> + +<p>“And your mother and father?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they died some while ago.”</p> + +<p>“You are the only one left?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, the only son of an only son. The family +curse seems to have fallen upon us inoffensive +colonists too; we are near dying out.”</p> + +<p>Bill looked at him thoughtfully. “You are a +long way from dead,” she remarked and then +enquired as to the fate of the brothers of the elder +Gilchrist.</p> + +<p>“The younger,” Harborough answered, “died in +1845, so Mr. Wagnall told me, that is the year after +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>my grandfather’s death; the elder came into the +property and has it still. He is the man at Wood +Hall now, a childless widower with no one nearer +than a sister’s grandson to succeed him. He was +two years older than my grandfather, I think, born +in 1820.”</p> + +<p>“In 1820,” Bill repeated thoughtfully; “then he +was thirteen in 1833. Of course he remembered +about the old Squire’s body; why he was the same +age as the granddaughter who planned it!”</p> + +<p>“Planned what? Whose granddaughter? What +are you talking about?”</p> + +<p>“Only a tale that is told in Gurnett,” Bill made +answer; “I will tell you some other time; finish +your family history first.”</p> + +<p>He knew nothing as yet about her visit to Wood +Hall. She would tell him of course, as she saw no +reason why he should object to it; but it was a pity +to interrupt his narrative, so she asked him to go on +and explain the way in which all this family history +bore on his connection with Wood Hall. Accordingly +he told her of the custom of the succession of +the youngest. “And it appears,” he concluded, +“that, as the Harboroughs inherited according to +this custom, the youngest son should always have +succeeded to the estates.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why,” he answered, feeling the +question to be entirely beside the point. “It does +not matter why; it was so, that is all. It is a tenure +called Borough English by which some estates are +held, and apparently the Harboroughs’ originally was +so held.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” Bill cried; “until the time of your grandfather +Gilchrist it was so, and then, owing to his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>going away before his son was born and the other +man not knowing he had a son at all, the elder +brother got it.”</p> + +<p>“Something of the sort.” Harborough was not +inclined so entirely to attribute the chain of events to +the ignorance of those in possession, but that did not +matter to Bill.</p> + +<p>“And you are going to claim through your grandfather?” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I expect so, in time,” Gilchrist answered. +“But you are in too much of a hurry; wait a bit, +and I will explain. Most likely I shall not claim in +the present owner’s lifetime, that is if I ever do it at +all; he is an old man in bad health, and they say he +is not likely to outlast the year; I think I should +wait till after his death.”</p> + +<p>“It would be kinder,” said Bill.</p> + +<p>But that was not Harborough’s reason, and though +he did not say so, he made his real motive fairly clear. +“It is a very difficult thing,” he said, “to turn out a +man who has been in possession such a long time; +indeed, it is just possible that if I could not prove +that neither I nor my father knew that we had the +right to claim for all those years, I should not be +able to do it at all. If we had known it, and had for +some reason left Mr. Harborough in possession, I +don’t believe we could turn him out; but as we did +not know I ought to be able to do it, though I don’t +think I shall try unless he shows signs of living +longer than now seems likely.”</p> + +<p>“I see; then he will never know you have a +claim?”</p> + +<p>“No, not if I can prevent it. I will tell you why. +He does not care much for the heir, it is said, though +he wishes him to have the property for family reasons; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span>he is altogether rather an eccentric old man”—Bill +knew that—“and it is possible that if he is left to +himself he will make no will. Now, I don’t want +him to make a will, which would only complicate the +case. If he has no right to the property he can’t +bequeath it; but the existence of a will, bequeathing +it to the recognised heir, would give him a show of +right which he would not otherwise have. So, you +see, I do not want a will made, and I do not want to +give Mr. Harborough any reason for making one by +hinting at my claim yet.”</p> + +<p>“Is that fair?” Bill asked.</p> + +<p>“Of course it is fair. What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, I am not quite sure,” she answered +thoughtfully; “I shall have to think about it. But +don’t let’s bother now; tell me about your case.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you mean by fairness,” Harborough +said somewhat severely. “If there is anything +unfair it is the way in which my people have +been kept out all these years. As to my case, there +is very little more to tell about it, except, of course, +that I shall have to prove my legitimate descent from +Gilchrist Harborough, that my grandmother was +legally married to him, and all that.”</p> + +<p>“How could she be anything else?” Bill asked +wondering.</p> + +<p>“He could have had another wife living at the +same time, or he could have been married before, or +something of the sort.”</p> + +<p>This was a new but impossible difficulty to Bill. +“Oh, but he wouldn’t,—at least, seeing that he was +a Harborough—” She paused and then added +demurely: “I thought you did not wish to belong +to that played-out family, and had a poor opinion of +their mortgaged property.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>“I can’t help my ancestors,” Harborough replied, +“and besides, they are some way back; we have +been honest working men for two generations. As +for the property, it is not so much encumbered as is +usually thought, so Stevens, the lawyer at Wrugglesby, +says; it is his opinion that a practical man with a +small capital and reasonable notions could pull the +place together yet.”</p> + +<p>“You!” Bill cried. “‘Thou art the man’!” and +she made the best obeisance to him that she could +without getting down from her perch on the low +branch of an apple-tree.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about the reasonable notions,” +Harborough said seriously, “and as for the small +capital, what I have is not large for such a job; still, +since I made the lucky speculation which emboldened +me to ask you to be my wife, I suppose I can lay +claim to a little capital. Something could be done +with the place I am sure; I drove past the other day +and made observations; there is a lot of fine timber +still among all the rubbish in the wood and more in +the open park-land—that’s worth something; then a +good lot of that park could be cultivated profitably; +it would take time, but I believe it could be done.”</p> + +<p>“And the house,” Bill added, “is big too. If we +lived there we could take boarders in the summer; +if we advertised among the seaside and farm-house +lodgings in the time-table, we should be sure to get +some answers.”</p> + +<p>Harborough never was quite sure whether she was +in fun or in earnest; he was not sure now, but in +either case he was annoyed and felt his annoyance to +be justifiable. “That would be impossible,” he said +severely, though had he given expression to what was +in his mind he would have requested her not to be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>absurd. However, for politeness sake he contented +himself with the milder speech, rising as he uttered +it.</p> + +<p>“Why?” Bill asked jumping down from her +perch.</p> + +<p>“Why? Because it would be out of the question. +As Mrs. Harborough of Wood Hall how could you +receive boarders? It may be all very well for you +and Miss Hains to do it in London, though, as you +know, I don’t altogether approve of the plan, but +here—here it would be impossible.”</p> + +<p>“Why impossible? You don’t explain.”</p> + +<p>He was holding the gate open for her, and jerked +it with annoyance as he answered. “To begin with, +in that position—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but there wouldn’t be one,” Bill interrupted; +“there would be no position. The stiff-necked +county would hardly recognise you on the strength +of your grandfather if you ploughed your park; and +as for me—even if I were Madame La Princesse +your wife I should still be ‘only Bill.’”</p> + +<p>She uttered the name with the wealth of contempt +and annoyance which Polly, at times of extreme +irritation, could concentrate into its one syllable. +Harborough felt irritated too; no man who has all +his life assumed an indifference to position likes to be +shown that he too has a trace of the universal respect +for it.</p> + +<p>“If you think,” he said coldly, “that I care for +the county you are very much mistaken. Other +people’s opinion is not of the slightest importance to +me as you should know, and though I care a good +deal what manner of woman my wife is, it is for +myself I care, not for my neighbours.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII.<br> +<small>THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF A GUARDIAN.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">It</span> is my belief,” said Miss Minchin to Miss Gruet, +when the sultry days of August had reduced the two +ladies to visiting one another in the cool of the +evening only, “it’s my belief that Mr. Harborough +is courting Mrs. Morton’s cousin; he goes to Haylands +so very regularly now.”</p> + +<p>“Very likely,” Miss Gruet made answer, “although +I should hardly have thought so poorly of him.”</p> + +<p>“So poorly?” Miss Minchin repeated.</p> + +<p>“Yes, so poorly, for she is little more than a child.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know.” Miss Minchin bridled at +some recollection. “I had an offer before I was her +age.”</p> + +<p>That was true, although, since the suitor was still +younger it could hardly be regarded as eligible. Miss +Gruet, having no such testimony to bring forward, +contented herself with saying, “Girls don’t marry so +young nowadays.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Miss Minchin was forced to admit, “no, +perhaps you are right. But what takes Mr. Harborough +so often to Haylands? He must go to see +someone; who is it?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>Now, oddly enough, that was exactly the question +Polly was propounding to herself, and seeing how +entirely she considered the engagement (except for +the secrecy) her own arrangement, it was strange. +Fortunately about this time she had ample opportunities +for studying the question, for she and Bella +came to Ashelton as often as they could during the +summer months. They usually walked from Wrugglesby, +nearly a six miles’ tramp along dusty country +roads; but as compensation they always drove home +with a certain quantity of spoil stowed under the +seat. Sometimes it was butter they brought back +packed in a damp cloth, or eggs carefully held in +Bella’s lap, or chickens showing under the back seat; +sometimes it was only vegetables, or a basket of fruit, +or a pigeon pie, or a basin of dripping, or some +equally humble subscription to the larder. Polly +despised nothing and refused nothing. When +Theresa hardly liked to offer such trifles to the elder +housekeeper, Bill relieved her of any difficulties by +putting various small articles in the old safe which +stood in the corner of the wash-house, and which +came in the course of time to be kept for Polly’s sole +use. “That’ll do for Polly,” she would say when +Theresa debated how to use this or that; and if +Theresa demurred saying, “I can’t offer her such +things,” Bill assured her: “You can offer her anything +you don’t mind her having; the only thing you +can’t offer her is anything you don’t want her to have +and only offer out of politeness. Put it in her cupboard; +she’ll take it.”</p> + +<p>And take it she always did. So, partly because +this collecting of odds and ends suited her near, but +effective, style of housekeeping, and partly from a +sense of responsibility which prompted her to see how +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>things went on at Haylands, Polly came often to +Ashelton that summer. And what she saw there led +her to ask herself the question which Miss Minchin +asked: “Whom did Gilchrist Harborough come to +see?” And the answer she gave herself was the one +which with great truthfulness she gave in different +words to Miss Minchin, “I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>Miss Minchin asked the question, or rather, by +less bald methods sought the answer, when Polly +came to stay at Haylands in August. It was the +middle of the month when she and Bella came; they +had had to continue school during the earlier part of +the month to compensate the pupils for the time lost +at Miss Brownlow’s death, but by the middle they +came to Ashelton to stay for a fortnight. For the +first week Theresa would be there; for the second +the three cousins would be left in charge as she and +Robert were going away. It was a busy time for a +farmer to leave, but Robert did not seem to mind; +as he said that he would much rather leave now than +in September, partridge-shooting possibly had more +to do with his decision than farming. However that +might be, he decided to go, and Polly and Bella came +to Haylands with the understanding that they would +look after Bill and the house during Theresa’s +absence. It was a few days after their arrival that +Polly met Miss Minchin in the lane. As they were +going the same way they walked on together, Miss +Minchin making many enquiries as to the health and +general welfare of the cousins. Polly gave all suitable +answers, and talked in her best style, with +perhaps more regard for effect than accuracy. What +she said in reference to Harborough, however, was +mainly true, more true than she herself liked under +the circumstances.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>Of course, so she told herself, Harborough came +to see Bill, and since, being a busy man with no spare +time, his visits were paid at fixed hours, he usually +did see Bill. It sometimes happened, though not +often, that the time of his coming varied a little, and +also it sometimes happened, even when he was regular, +that Bill was busy or not to be found for a few +minutes. On these occasions Theresa entertained +him until Bill appeared, when she would have been +quite willing to leave them to enjoy each other’s +society undisturbed. But they did not show the +least wish for such a thing. “We haven’t got anything +private to say,” Bill told her once when Theresa +remonstrated with her. So by degrees it came about +that if the cousins were indoors Harborough joined +them, and if they were out of doors he sat under the +elm-tree with them, helping Bill to shell peas or +string currants, or whatever peaceful occupation she +might be engaged upon that evening. Theresa +would willingly have taken such work from her on +the evenings when Harborough came, but if she did +Bill only got something else to do, and that possibly +of a less suitable nature. Theresa could not understand +the girl at all; she never seemed shy or eager +to see her lover; she was never anxious to put on +her best frock for his coming; and yet she appeared +happy in the engagement. Of course Harborough +himself was not demonstrative; he was always grave +and serious when Theresa saw him, but no doubt, so +she thought, he was different in her absence, thinking +which she went away. Whereupon, the currants +being done, the pair took to watering the garden +with a silent industry and a strict attention to +business.</p> + +<p>Polly saw all this and more still with her shrewd +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>little eyes, and before Theresa went away she spoke +to her on the subject.</p> + +<p>“You have noticed it too?” Theresa said, as if +relieved to find it not all her own fancy. “Do you +think Bill is really fond of him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do, and I think it is very hard on her that +you should take so much of his attention.”</p> + +<p>“I!” exclaimed Theresa flushing. “I! How +can you say such a thing, Polly?”</p> + +<p>Polly both could and did say such a thing, and she +said it with the repetitions and variations she so well +knew how to use, until Theresa, hurt and angry and +mortified by turns, first denied the charge and then +defended the action.</p> + +<p>“Somebody must be civil to him,” she said at +last. “Bill never wants to see him alone; she +makes him work in the garden if I leave them; she +won’t be nice to him or put her best dress on, or +anything.”</p> + +<p>“Bill is a little goose, and the chances are she +does all that out of pride and contradiction because +she is jealous of you.”</p> + +<p>“She can’t be jealous of me, it is impossible,” +Theresa said, and the next moment added, “and +if she is, why does she not try to please him? When +he wants her to talk seriously she won’t; she says +the most ridiculous things in the gravest manner, +and the gravest in the most ridiculous, till he never +knows how to take her, and that’s annoying to +a man, you know. And then she will persist in +calling him Theo. For a long time she did not +call him anything, at least not when I was there, +always beginning, ‘I say,’ just as if that was his +name; it was so rude, I told her about it. She +said she did not like Gilchrist, there had been too +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span>many of them. I told her to settle that with him, +but I’m sure I don’t know what she said, for now +she calls him Theo which she says is short for +theory, and I know he can’t bear it.”</p> + +<p>To this recital of Bill’s misdeeds Polly only said: +“I must have a good talk with Bill, I think she +minds me more than you; only, you know, my +dear Theresa, your being nice to Gilchrist will hardly +compensate for Bill being nasty. I am sure you +don’t mean anything but the very best, still, quite +unintentionally of course, you sometimes make it +a little hard for her.”</p> + +<p>Theresa was truly grieved as Polly meant her +to be, and determined to be very careful of her +conversation with Harborough in the future. It +must be admitted that she could not disguise from +herself the fact that she really did enjoy talking to +him, and he could not disguise from her woman’s +wit the respectful and quite impersonal admiration +he had for her.</p> + +<p>Theresa was easy enough to deal with; Bill was +the real difficulty, as Polly knew, a difficulty she did +not feel at all sure of being able to tackle successfully. +She thought over the subject for some time, +and finally decided to leave it for the present. +Theresa was going away in a day or two, and when +she returned Bill herself was to leave with Polly and +Bella. In these circumstances it hardly seemed +necessary to open the question now, and Polly +determined to study the matter for the present and +speak of it while they were away together.</p> + +<p>Theresa was only away for a week, but the three +cousins left behind contrived to get a certain amount +of excitement into the week. It was really Bill’s +fault, Polly said, Bill and her plums. Plums were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>very scarce that year, not only in Ashelton but +in all that part of the country. There had been +every promise of a good yield in the spring, but +a few late frosts had terribly damaged the crop; +many trees were quite bare and many others had but +little fruit; those in the Haylands orchard had +escaped. The plums were decidedly the best of the +trees in the orchard; they were younger and in +better condition than the apples or pears, and they +were, moreover, very good kinds. In the spring +they had shown every promise of abundance of fruit, +and when the late frosts came, damaging the neighbouring +trees, they did not suffer much owing to +good luck and a sheltered position. Bill was delighted +by their escape, and during the summer took +great interest in the health of the trees, propping up +the overloaded branches and regretfully thinning the +too abundant crop. By the end of August the fruit +was ripe and a source of great satisfaction to her.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what you are going to do with +them,” Polly said one morning as she looked at the +trees from which Bill was filling Bella’s pudding-basin.</p> + +<p>“We can’t eat them all,” Bella said, biting one +as she spoke, “nor make jam, nor pies, nor give +them away; there are far too many; they have all +got ripe together. What a pity Theresa is not here; +I wonder what she does with the fruit.”</p> + +<p>“Sells it,” said Bill as she went on to look at +the next tree.</p> + +<p>“To whom?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. The apples used to go away last +year; I have seen some of the baskets about. These +plums ought to be picked; they are quite ripe and +the wasps are getting at them.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>“Yes,” Polly said judicially, “they ought to be +picked to-day. I think, Bill, you had better get +what we want for jam and perhaps you might get +a basketful for Mrs. Dawson. Mr. Dawson was +saying the other day that they had none at all. You +had better gather all we can use this morning.”</p> + +<p>“I mean to,” Bill replied, “but you have got to +help. Oh, yes you have; they must be all, or at +least the greater part picked to-day; you will have +to help.”</p> + +<p>“Bill,” Polly began with dignity, but Bella, disturbed +about her sister’s property, interposed. “It +does seem a pity not to sell them: I do think +it is silly of Theresa not to have left any orders +about them; can’t we write to her?”</p> + +<p>“Not in time,” Bill answered. “I expect she +left no orders because she did not think; she +and Robert always call these my trees, because I +take such an interest in them. Robert said I should +keep anything I could make out of them; I don’t +want to do that, but I mean to make something.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how you are going to sell them,” +Polly called from the gate as she was leaving the +orchard.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you? I have seen for several days. +Don’t go, Polly, you must help to pick; it is going +to be a busy day and you will have to help; you +might begin at once while I find the baskets.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll come too as soon as I have taken this to +Jessie,” and Bella went away with the basin as she +spoke, leaving Bill and Polly in animated conversation. +When she came back to begin her share +of the plum-picking she found Polly at work; Bill +had coerced her into it somehow, and, what was +more remarkable still, kept her at it. They all three +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>worked steadily, finding it decidedly more tiring +than they had anticipated. Not only did they +gather the fruit, but they also packed it in the +baskets in which it was to travel. In time the +baskets gave out, and Bill proposed to borrow some +from Mr. Dane. “I know he has got some,” she +said; “I saw them round by his back door the +last time I went for books. It won’t take me long +to go and borrow them.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t,” Polly said; “besides we have done +enough; it is nearly four o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“We sha’n’t have done enough,” Bill observed, +descending her ladder, “until we have done all we +can.”</p> + +<p>“It would be a great pity to waste any,” Bella +added; “there are heaps more just perfect, and +this weather they won’t hang.”</p> + +<p>“Do you intend to keep on till dark?” Polly +demanded. “How absurd! Have you forgotten +that Gilchrist Harborough is coming this evening?”</p> + +<p>“All the better,—he can help,” was the only +answer, and the gate closed after Bill as she went in +quest of the rector’s baskets.</p> + +<p>“It is perfect nonsense,” Polly said wrathfully; +“why couldn’t she have got one of the men about +the farm to do this work?”</p> + +<p>“They are busy,” Bella answered; “I expect she +does not want to take their time, more especially as +Robert said she could have the profits.”</p> + +<p>“There won’t be any; and if there are I see no +reason why I should work for her profit.”</p> + +<p>“It is not bad work. I wonder how she found +out where to sell them; I expect she made Theo tell +her. Do you like him, Polly? I think I do.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like this work,” was Polly’s only answer, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>“and I am not going to do any more of it at present; +I shall lie down for half an hour.”</p> + +<p>And away she went, calculating that Bill could not +be less than half an hour in borrowing the baskets, +and in any case she would hear her return through +the open window. Bella, left to herself, went on +industriously with her work until the sound of footsteps +in the lane arrested her attention. She was +standing on a high rung of the ladder, and peering +through the plum-branches, she looked to see who +might be passing, secure that she herself was unseen. +In this belief she was, however, mistaken, for the +passer by glancing up at that moment had the vision +of a flushed face and a frame of golden hair, the curls +all loosened and caught by the tiresome interwoven +branches, the whole surrounded by those same +branches in a way which he found almost bewildering.</p> + +<p>“Good-afternoon, Miss Waring,” he said. “I +was just on my way to Haylands about the bees,—is +any one at home?”</p> + +<p>Polly was at home, but Polly might not like to be +disturbed; still of course the bees were a matter of +business, so Bella looked out again, or rather, partly +looked out, having in the moment’s retirement given +some infinitesimal but effective touches to her tie and +hair. Jack Dawson found her irresistible, but he had +found her that before. Mrs. Dawson could hardly +have selected a more momentous time for acquiring a +hive of bees than the one she did, for her son Jack +discovered that the Mortons’ bees were the best, in +fact the only really good bees to be had, and even +these he found needed a great deal of investigation +before purchase. At least such must have been the +case to judge by the number of calls of inquiry he +paid and the length of time he spent looking at the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>hives with Bella. Mrs. Dawson is reported to have +said at the end of the month that that hive cost her +more than anything she ever bought, but eventually +she came to a gentler way of thinking; for after all, +though it undoubtedly is a criminal offence for only +sons to marry, it is an offence they will commit, and +Jack’s partner in guilt, or rather promised partner, +won her way into Mrs. Dawson’s heart in time.</p> + +<p>But that was all in the future; in the present, +Jack, on his mother’s behalf, was industriously following +up his quest for bees, and Bella, on her sister’s +behalf, was helping him. It is to be presumed that +these were their motives, though a casual observer +might have thought their interests, though mutual, +were more circumscribed on the occasion when they +helped each other to gather Bill’s plums. Bella said +she could not leave off till Bill came back; it would +be so unkind if both she and Polly went away without +a word of explanation. Jack agreed, saying that +there was no hurry and he could wait any time, +and while he waited he helped to make up for Polly’s +desertion. Polly, meanwhile, slept peacefully, and +Bill went by way of the rector’s back door into the +rector’s presence.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII.<br> +<small>THE PLUM HARVEST.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bill</span> was a privileged intruder at the rectory now, +coming and going as she chose, saying and doing +what she chose, with no one to hinder her.</p> + +<p>At first the old rector had not known whether he +hated or loved this grandchild of the dead past, this +creature who was Wilhelmina, and Gipsy Alardy, and +a score of other things half bitter and half sweet. +But after a time he forgot to think of hatred or love; +he never thought now of that dead past, for she was +not Wilhelmina, nor Gipsy Alardy, nor anything but +her untutored, half-developed self. So he buried the +past again, and, accepting the present as he found +it, turned to the work in hand. In that work he +included Bill, and the queerest, pleasantest, most +incomprehensible work he found her. So to the +rectory she came for all manner of things and to the +rector for all manner of information; he seldom +refused her, never repulsed her, listened to her plans +and fancies, never condemned nor ridiculed, lending +a sympathetic ear to all things, even including those +which some would have had him condemn. From +her heart Bill longed to tell him of her promise to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>Harborough, feeling it almost a breach of confidence +to shut him out of this secret; but when she asked +Theresa if she might speak, Theresa said she had +better not. She knew Mr. Dane was kind to her +young cousin, but she did not understand the odd +friendship there was between them, and, as she no +doubt wisely said, should Bill tell one person, Harborough +could justly claim the right to tell one on +his side, and the secret would be a secret no longer; +it must either remain among themselves or else be +public to all the world. Bill saw no reason why it +should be a secret, but as Polly advised her to say +just what she thought best to Mr. Dane, she let the +matter drop; she did not know Polly’s motives, but +she would not in this follow her advice in opposition +to Theresa’s. So Mr. Dane knew nothing about the +arrangement, knowing only, as all Ashelton knew, +that Gilchrist Harborough went to Haylands, but, +owing to what he himself knew of Bill, he attached +little importance to that.</p> + +<p>On the day when Bill came to borrow the baskets +the rector was busy, so busy that he was not disturbed +by her light footstep nor aware of her presence +until she was by his chair making her request.</p> + +<p>“Baskets, Princess Puck?” he said; “of course, +take what you like.”</p> + +<p>And she had gone again before the ink in his pen +was dry.</p> + +<p>“Away already?” he said, looking up as the handle +rattled when she closed the door after her.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m very busy, and so are you.” She +opened the door again an inch or two to say it.</p> + +<p>“Ah, I see; you’re always busy.”</p> + +<p>“I’m gathering plums. We have all three been +doing it most of the day, and we shall keep on till +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span>dark; there are heaps to be gathered, the whole lot +are ripe together. Would you like some? I’ll send +some this evening.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, thank you, you are very kind. I +dare say I shall be down your lane this evening, and +if I am perhaps I can take them away with me; that +will save your time and let me see you busy people +at work.”</p> + +<p>“You will come?” Bill opened the door wider +to put the question joyously. “Monseigneur, you +shall have the biggest and best, and as many as you +can carry!”</p> + +<p>Harborough’s visit had passed entirely out of her +mind, and when it came back to her on her way +home with the baskets she did not regret the rector’s +promise to come. She went to the orchard with a +light heart, and an ungainly appearance, having slung +the two biggest hampers across her shoulders, to +facilitate their transport, while she carried the smaller +baskets in her hands. She went by way of the fields, +and as Miss Minchin was engaged in chasing the +course of the sun with her window-blinds on the other +side of the house, she reached the orchard unobserved.</p> + +<p>Jack Dawson and Bella were on the same ladder, +and in the heart of the same plum-tree. They did +not see Bill until she, having unburdened herself and +discovered Polly’s absence, announced herself by the +question, “Where is Polly?”</p> + +<p>A ripe plum fell heavily from the branch above as +Bella started at the voice. “I,—she’s gone in,—Mr. +Dawson is helping me while she rests.”</p> + +<p>“How long has she been resting?”</p> + +<p>“Ever since you went away,—but, Bill—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t disturb her,” entreated a masculine voice +from the branches, and the masculine legs descended +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>the ladder a little way. “I can stay and take her +place; she must be awfully tired, you know.”</p> + +<p>“She isn’t,” announced the inexorable Bill; “she’s +lazy, that’s all. It is very good of you to offer to +take her place, but if you really will help, you had +much better take Bella’s; she has worked hard, as +hard as possible.”</p> + +<p>“If Miss Waring will allow me to help her?” +Jack suggested persuasively.</p> + +<p>“You will, won’t you, Bella?” Bill said; “and +I’ll go and fetch Polly.” And she suited the action +to the word.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity to disturb Miss Hains,” Jack said +and Bella agreed with him, sincerely hoping Bill +would not succeed in the difficult task of uprooting +the reposeful Polly.</p> + +<p>However she was disappointed; in a very short +time Polly, gracious and serene, accompanied Bill to +the orchard. But the indefatigable couple were not +disturbed in their industry, Polly, after polite greeting, +going to work on a distant tree and taking Bill +with her.</p> + +<p>Jack Dawson helped them all the remainder of +the afternoon, and Harborough found him still +hard at work when he arrived in the evening. +Polly, in her position of chaperone, regarded the two +pairs with a judicial eye and felt dissatisfied. Jack +and Bella were well enough, and their relative output +of work and conversation was more calculated +to satisfy her than the amateur market-gardener; it +was the market-gardener herself and Gilchrist Harborough +who displeased Polly.</p> + +<p>“That young man is a splendid agricultural implement,” +was her opinion as she watched him. “He +might as well be Darby’s digger or somebody’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>steam-plough, and Bill—well.” Here Polly sniffed +aloud, but whether from contempt for Bill or sympathy +with her own difficulties one could not say. At that +moment her attention was arrested by Bill’s voice.</p> + +<p>“You have come then, Monseigneur! You shall +have the very best.”</p> + +<p>Polly looked round sharply; the tone of the girl’s +voice was so unlike that in which she usually spoke +to Harborough, there was something of caress in +it, of the frank familiarity of assured welcome and +response. It was not wonderful that Polly looked to +see if Theo answered to this new nickname, and +when it was evident he did not, that she looked still +more eagerly to see who did.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane, the courteous but somewhat exclusive +rector of Ashelton! He was Monseigneur, it was +for him Bill was opening the rickety gate, he whom +she welcomed so gladly! It was surprising, Polly +felt, but safe. Perhaps Harborough felt the same, +for he did not seem to resent Bill’s evident satisfaction +in Mr. Dane’s presence, and he did not, as +Polly did, lecture Bill afterwards on the impropriety +of addressing elderly gentlemen in so free and easy a +fashion.</p> + +<p>Of course Bill did not in the least mind what was +said, and went to bed as indifferent to Polly’s +remarks as Mr. Dane himself would have been. He +went home thinking kindly of the young folks +under the orchard trees, pretty Bella and her suitors, +as he took both young men to be, the favoured and +the unfavoured one. The favoured one,—and in +judging Jack Dawson to be such the rector was right—did +not retire to rest in the peaceful manner of the +other plum-gatherers, having first had to endure an +extremely stormy interview with his mother.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>Perhaps Bella had some idea of what might be +taking place, for she lay awake long that night, +though Bill, with whom she shared the room, did +not know it. The younger girl slept soundly and +dreamlessly, not troubling at all about Jack or +Harborough, nor yet about her own plans for the +morrow. Those same plans necessitated getting up +at a very early hour the next morning; fortunately +Bella was sleeping quietly at the time, so without +challenge Bill dressed and went out.</p> + +<p>It was cold out of doors, everything drenched +with dew; everything still, almost awfully still,—the +dead world, the motionless air, the opaque sky, +dark except where at the horizon’s rim it showed +faintly grey like the ashes of yesterday. It was not +really dark; Bill wondered why all things were so +clear in this ghostly, shadowless twilight. “It is as +if the world were dead,” she thought, “burned out +and finished, resurrection and judgment over, and +just me left behind forgotten.”</p> + +<p>Then she unlocked the stable-door and, putting +fancies aside, set seriously to work, first harnessing +the old roan horse to the roomy light cart, and afterwards +climbing in beside the hampers of plums +placed there over-night. She had told Polly and +Bella that she herself would take the plums away, +and that she would have to start before breakfast to +do it. Bella was too much disturbed about her own +concerns to feel much interest, and Polly saw no +reason to object, as had Theresa been at home she +possibly might have done. As it was, the two +remaining cousins had breakfast without Bill, though +Polly was much annoyed by a note the girl had left +saying she would not be back till the afternoon. All +thoughts of Bill, however, were soon driven out of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>her head by the confidence Bella could withhold no +longer.</p> + +<p>And thus it was that Bill drove away with her +plums in the grey dawn, not to Wrugglesby and the +railway-station, but to Darvel, the regimental town, a +far longer distance but a bigger town with richer inhabitants, +military and civil. The strawberry roan +was a good old horse though terribly ugly: he would +trot well along the winding lanes and empty highways +on the journey, and at the journey’s end stand +patiently beside the curb while Bill went to the back +doors to sell her plums. That was her notion of +doing business; untroubled by any idea of license, and +fortunately remaining untaught by painful experience, +she went from house to house selling her fruit by the +pound, having taken the dairy scales with her for the +purpose. And a very good trade she did, for plums +were scarce and hers were beyond reproach; she +asked a fair price and gave good weight, dealing as an +honest and humble trader should.</p> + +<p>It was with a clear conscience and satisfied mind +that she drove home, light in load and heavy in +pocket. She came back by the Wrugglesby road, +which was further but better going now that dry +weather had loosened the roads. The afternoon was +far advanced and the shadows stretched long on the +cropped grass fields and matted seed-clover. In the +distance the air still quivered with heat, and the red-roofed +farms glowed warmly in it. Now and again +came the whirl of machinery, some stack in process +of erection or a reaper in a wheat-field near at hand. +Bill looked around her, at the dusty hedgerows, the +deep green trees, the poppies by the road, it was all +very good in the drowsy afternoon; the whole world +was so good, she could have sung aloud for joy.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>Propriety, however, demanded that she should not, +and moreover some one accosted her at that moment, +a stranger asking the way to Sales Cross. She +pulled up to tell him and then, as she was passing +that way herself, offered him a lift. He accepted, +glancing at her curiously; the voice and manner +were not quite what he had expected from the +general appearance of herself and her equipage. +However, he seated himself beside her and began to +speak of the harvest-prospects and the weather, +equally popular topics of conversation just then. A +small farmer or bailiff’s daughter, he thought her, +concluding that latter-day education must in some +way be responsible for her unusual manner.</p> + +<p>So he talked to her on various topics, incidentally +learning a little about herself, among other things +that she had been to Darvel to sell fruit. In this +way, Bill making no effort to learn anything of him +and his business, they reached Sales Cross and there +for the first time she asked him of his concerns, +inquiring which way he wanted to go.</p> + +<p>“There is a footpath leading off from the road on +the left, I am told,” he said, and when she pointed it +out to him he got down and bidding her good-afternoon +went on his way.</p> + +<p>“I wonder where he is going,” she thought. “He +could get to part of Ashelton that way, but I don’t +suppose he is going there, and he could get to several +other places equally well.” Then she drove on +dismissing the subject from her mind.</p> + +<p>Now, Polly, though she had talked and thought +principally about Bella that day, had found time, +as the afternoon wore on, to wonder a little what +mischief Bill had in hand, and to wonder a great deal +more as to who would find her out. Polly’s morals +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>were of a strictly utilitarian character, and being a +great believer in the eleventh commandment <i>Thou +shalt not be found out</i>, she was prepared to measure her +wrath with Bill’s misdoings in proportion to the +publicity of their nature. Therefore when, at about +five o’clock in the afternoon the offender came to +her on the lawn, she proceeded to catechise her in a +brief and business-like way, reserving her most important +question till the last.</p> + +<p>“And whom did you meet? Who knows about +this?”</p> + +<p>“Who? Why, of course, all the people I sold +plums to, and—”</p> + +<p>“No, no, the people about here I mean, people +whom we know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no one.”</p> + +<p>“No one in Ashelton or Wrugglesby? Didn’t +you see anyone to speak to?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; I gave a lift to a stranger who wanted to find +the way to Sales Cross. He asked me if I had been +to Wrugglesby market, and I told him that it was not +market-day, and that I had been to Darvel with fruit.”</p> + +<p>Polly was extremely angry at this indiscretion, and +said so in no measured terms. She reflected, however, +that, the man being a stranger, no harm had +been done unless he happened to be visiting any of +their acquaintances in the neighbourhood, in which +case he might perhaps recognise Bill on some future +occasion.</p> + +<p>“But I don’t see what harm I have done,” Bill +objected. “I dare say T. won’t like it when I tell +her, she is rather particular, but you are not proud +and it is no good saying you are; there is no reason +why you should object any more than Theo will +when I tell him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>But Polly was not at all sure that Theo would +approve of Bill’s performance, and she said so, without +convincing Bill; she also reproved her sharply +without showing her wherein lay the wrong. Bill, +who did not at all believe in Polly, was entirely unimpressed, +and Bella just then came out from the +house.</p> + +<p>“Have you told her?” she asked, and Bill noticed +that she looked troubled and excited.</p> + +<p>“No,” Polly said, “I have not; I had enough to +do thinking about her behaviour.”</p> + +<p>“Told me what?” Bill asked. “What is it?”</p> + +<p>And because they felt the news they had to tell +was of greater importance than her own comparatively +obscure misdoings, they told her. Soon even +Polly had forgotten about Bill in the greater news; +as for Bill herself, she thought no more of anything +but Bella and her happiness in Jack’s love and her +fear of Jack’s mother. Bill could not quite understand +the fear; if you were sure of the love, in her +opinion, you could not be afraid, for nothing would +matter. And the love,—she looked rather wistfully +at Bella, wondering why she could not feel as this +cousin did. But she said nothing of these things, +forgetting them for the time being in the engrossing +talk which was only closed when they all went indoors, +Bill saying as they went: “But, Polly, how +about your lodgings now? By next summer you +will have no one to help you.”</p> + +<p>“I shall go on alone,” Polly answered magnanimously. +“I shall be able to do it, and even if I +could not, I should not dream of standing in the way +of either of you.”</p> + +<p>“But you seem to want us both to get married,” +Bill said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span>“I do, if you marry well. I am sure that neither +of you would forget all I have done for you, and I +am sure you will both remember how valuable even +trifles are to me.”</p> + +<p>There was something faintly suggestive of the +beggar’s whine in Polly’s tone, which made both the +younger cousins laugh as they went into the house +completely forgetful of Bill’s doings.</p> + +<p>But there was one who did not forget them, who +felt he had good reason to be angry with them, and +that one was Gilchrist Harborough. It was to him +that the stranger Bill met was going. He was a +Sydney lawyer and the fortunate possessor of private +means; he had been a friend of Harborough’s in the +new country, and now that he was home for a holiday +in the old, Harborough had thought it worth while +to tell him the story of his claim to the Gurnett +estates, asking his opinion rather than his help. The +lawyer, however, was so much impressed with the +strength of the case when he first heard the story in +June, that he immediately set to work on his own +account to verify one or two necessary points. +Having by this week’s mail received from Australia +the information he wanted, he came to tell Harborough +of his success. At first he intended to +write, but as he was going to stay a week or two +with some friends further down the line, he broke his +journey at Wrugglesby and spent a couple of hours +discussing the situation with Harborough.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, he did not confine himself entirely +to business during that couple of hours, for he +casually mentioned the little fruit-seller who gave +him a lift in her empty cart. “The queerest little +oddity I have ever seen,” he said. “I wonder if you +know who she is; let’s see if I can describe her. She +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>was small, dark, shabby, shabbier than any cottage-girl +I have yet come across in this well-favoured old +country—untidy, simple, though ’cute I should say, +frank as an American, brown as a berry, hair dark +but reddish, face,—I don’t know, a provoking little +face, and perfectly irresistible eyes.”</p> + +<p>Harborough knew who she was though he did not +say; a slighter description would have served him. +There were not two such about; two brown girls +who spoke good English and sold fruit by the pound +in Darvel, who wore their right boots laced with +string (Harborough knew that boot well) and had +brown eyes with the sunshine in them; who made +friends with all comers, who whistled to the birds in +the hedges, who was, in fact,—Bill, his promised +wife.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX.<br> +<small>PETER HARBOROUGH: SHOT.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bella</span> was not proud, neither was she exacting in +any particular; but there are times when even the +least proud is tried by his family. Bella was so tried +on the day that she went with Polly and Bill to +Bymouth.</p> + +<p>Bymouth was the place selected by the three for +the change which Polly said they needed after all +their trouble. They could not afford a change, it is +true; but as Polly also said: “It is no good waiting +till you can afford a thing; by that time you will +probably not want it.” Bella agreed with Polly; +Bill’s cautious vote on the opposite side was overruled, +and to Bymouth they went. Bymouth, being +four miles from a railway-station, had the merit of +being a cheap place; a railway-line was indeed on its +way there, but had not yet got very far. Visitors +who wished to go to Bymouth drove from Bybridge, +or walked, sending their luggage by the carrier’s cart. +The cousins walked, and as the carrier charged +threepence for each package Polly said, “We must +not take too much.”</p> + +<p>Bella agreed: it was easy to agree, for they had +not much to take, and they were only going for a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>week; but Polly’s notion of luggage and Bella’s were +not identical. This was the first of Bella’s trials; the +matter of provisions was another question which +needed settlement. Polly said they had better take +all they could with them, for Bymouth (she had +never been there) was a very out-of-the-way place +where everything would be difficult to get: also (she +added as an afterthought) what they took with them +they would have free, while what they bought there +they would have to pay for. Bella did not see the +necessity of provisioning themselves as if they were +going to a desert-island; however, she gave way to a +certain extent, and Polly put a cold fowl in her hat-box +(Bella would not have it in hers), three large +lettuces rolled up in Bill’s bathing-dress, and a neat +packet of fat ham in slices securely wedged among +the same obliging cousin’s underwear.</p> + +<p>“You can take the tea,” Polly said, handing Bella +a large paper bag.</p> + +<p>Bella took it in so pleasant a manner that Polly +was induced to try her with some plum turnovers +which she was anxious not to leave behind, because +she said, “they would be so nice to eat in the +train.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t eat things in the train,” Bella exclaimed +scandalised, “least of all plum turnovers. Besides, +do you think I am going to open my luggage in +the train to get them out? Why, it will be in the +van!”</p> + +<p>“So it will,” Polly agreed; “I forgot that. Still, +they will be nice to eat when we get there; we shall +be hungry then, for we must dine very early to leave +in time.”</p> + +<p>But Bella was obdurate; she would not take the +turnovers, which she was sure would not be wanted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>“Oh, well, please yourself,” Polly said good-humouredly, +and packed them in the crown of Bill’s +hat. “She will have to wear her best one,” she said; +“this is much easier to pack.” And she crammed in +hat and turnovers together.</p> + +<p>Bella, not seeing what she was doing, raised no +objections, but on the subject of apples she was firm. +There were a certain number of windfall apples Polly +wanted to bring, because, she said, fruit was always +dear at the seaside; but she could not get them in +among her things or Bill’s, and Bella absolutely +declined to have them. Polly was annoyed, but at +last gave it up, leaving the apples scattered over the +dressing-table, while she turned her attention to +strapping up waterproofs. Bill had begun to do this, +putting in with them an extra petticoat; Polly added +the subscription of a dressing-jacket, but she was +called down-stairs just then and Bella took the straps +from Bill and persuaded her to give up the idea of +taking the additions. “You don’t want them,” she +said, “and we can’t go about looking as if we were +bringing home the family washing in a mackintosh.”</p> + +<p>“Why does Bella want to look so respectable?” +Bill asked Polly, when they were alone later on.</p> + +<p>“Because,” Polly answered severely, “she is a lady.”</p> + +<p>Bill, not at all impressed, smiled her derision, and +enquired: “Why was she so cross when she found +out too late that my best boots were packed?”</p> + +<p>“Because Jack Dawson will be at the station. +Just as if”—Polly was contemptuous—“he would +look at your boots! It is market-day, so he is going +to Wrugglesby; he is going to drive Bella—you and +I and the luggage will go in the chaise with Sam.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” Bill said, and began to make various odds +and ends, refused accommodation elsewhere, into a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>parcel. She had no idea of annoying Bella, but she +had two different pieces of brown paper, both too +small, and no genius for making parcels.</p> + +<p>Polly glanced round to see if there was anything +forgotten; her eye fell on the apples. “It does seem +a pity to leave them,” she sighed. Then an idea +occurred to her and her face brightened. “I know +what I will do,” she said.</p> + +<p>She turned to an open drawer and stirred it over +till she found a small calico bag. She had many +such,—Bill called them nosebags—which she used to +hold all manner of odds and ends collected from +various people. The one she brought out now contained +scraps of ribbon, the accumulation of many +years. She emptied it, finding a home for most of +its contents in a smaller bag already used to hold +some fifteen pieces of pencil. Then she put the best +of the apples into the empty bag and forced it some +way up the centre of Bella’s neat roll of waterproofs. +“It is a pity to unfasten them,” she said; “they are +so nicely done up. I am sure the bag won’t fall out, +and it hardly shows at all.”</p> + +<p>That may have been, but the first thing Bella saw +when she came on the platform at Wrugglesby was +the bag, mouth-end foremost, sticking out of the +roll which Bill held under her arm.</p> + +<p>“Are they here?” Jack asked as he came out of +the booking-office with her ticket. They were here, +very much here; poor Bella almost wished they +were not.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see them,” Jack went on, looking down +the crowded platform: the train stopped everywhere +and was always full. “Oh yes,” he said at +last, “there’s Miss Hains, but I don’t see the +luggage.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>Bella could hardly see anything else, she was so +painfully conscious of it—Polly’s round tin hat-box, +packed to bursting, with the white string of +some garment shut in the hinge; the little hair-trunk +with a broken handle (the property of the late Mr. +Hains), Bill’s paper parcel resting on the top; Bill +herself, with her old boots very much in evidence, +standing beside.</p> + +<p>Polly caught sight of Bella and smiled pleasantly +as they approached; Jack took charge of the +luggage and the train came in.</p> + +<p>“Jump in, and I’ll hand the things to you,” he +said. “Are you going to have this in the carriage?” +and he lifted the tin hat-box which would neither +go under a seat nor in a rack.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, please!” Polly cried, and took it from +him.</p> + +<p>He picked up Bill’s parcel; the two ends drooped +in a dangerous manner, but he handed it to its +owner without mishap, while Polly tried to force +the unwieldy hat-box under a seat. It would not +go, and after disturbing efforts Polly left it among +the legs of the other passengers, straightening herself +just in time to see Bill drop her parcel in +Bella’s lap and take the roll which Jack handed to +her, the bag of apples falling out with a thud as he +did so.</p> + +<p>“Hullo!” said Jack; “what have I dropped?”</p> + +<p>Bella grew scarlet, and prayed that the bag might +have fallen down on the line. No such thing,—it +lay on the platform, one of the apples shaken out +by the fall beside it. Jack picked it up and gave +it to Bill. “Here you are, Miss Bill,” he said; +“wait a moment, here’s another one,—you nearly +lost your refreshment that time.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>Fortunately the train started almost immediately +and so prevented Bill from explaining that the +apples were Polly’s and not hers. Bella leaned back +in the carriage overcome with shame, while Bill +serenely restored the apple to the bag, and then +tried in vain to get it back into its original hiding-place. +“It won’t go,” she said at last; “we shall +either have to undo the straps or carry it separately: +which would you rather, Bella?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care; it does not matter.” Bella felt +that to be asked which she preferred now was adding +insult to injury.</p> + +<p>“Let us undo the straps,” Polly said; “then we +can put your parcel in too; it does not look very +strong.”</p> + +<p>Bill unfastened the straps, and finding the parcel +too broad to go inside comfortably, she unfastened +that too and rearranged its miscellaneous contents. +Then she packed it and the apples into a waterproof; +one of the apples rolled on to the floor and was +pounced upon by a small fellow-traveller.</p> + +<p>“Mustn’t, mustn’t,” the mother said; “it belongs +to the ladies; give it to the ladies.”</p> + +<p>But the ladies, as represented by Polly, were +benign and made a present of the apple, afterwards +entering into conversation with the mother on the +subject of the age and habits of the child. Bella +took no part, and Bill applied herself to the refastening +of the straps. When that was done she +listened to what was being said, for the talk by +this time had worked round to Bymouth, which, +it seemed, the mother knew well.</p> + +<p>Now Bymouth had been Bill’s own choice; she +did not know much about it, nor did the others, +except that the journey there was a cheap one and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>that, after all, was an important piece of knowledge. +The thing, however, which attracted Bill was the fact +that the recognised heir to Wood Hall had been +spoken of in her presence as Harborough of Bybridge. +She did not exactly expect to come across +him while passing through the small town on her +way to Bymouth, but she had a vague idea +that she might see him, and she was anxious to +know what he was like. Yet another reason for +her interest in the place was that her history of +the county had told her that it was the home of +the Corby family, they who had also owned the +small manor of Corbycroft whence the old Squire’s +body had been carried to the Chapel at Wood Hall. +Somewhere between Bybridge and Sandover, a place +somewhat higher up the coast than Bymouth, had +been their ancestral home. It had been pulled down +long ago, and the family had died out, probably +in great poverty from the story of the old squire’s +body being in danger of arrest for debt. But in +their day the Corbys had been rich: all the ground +on which the now fashionable watering-place of +Sandover stood had been theirs; and though as +agricultural land it had not been worth much, its +annual rental now was more than enough to reinstate +the family fortunes twice over.</p> + +<p>Bill asked many questions of their talkative travelling-companion +when she found that, besides being +born at Bymouth, she had lived since her marriage at +Sandover. However, she could tell little of what +Bill wanted to know; she could speak of the extravagant +price of lodgings at Sandover, the beauty +of the pier, the number of the grocers’ shops,—her +husband owned one, the very best in the +town. There were tombs, she said, lots of old +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>tombs in St. Clement’s churchyard; people often +came to see them. “Old gentlemen come with +spades and things,” she went on, becoming somewhat +mixed in her ideas, “and poke about and +read inscriptions and find no end—why, the cliffs +are full of queer things, fossils as big as your hand +and little tiny shells. Sandover is a very interesting +place.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say,” Polly said with vacant affability; +“we must try to go there one day.”</p> + +<p>She had not the least intention of going, but Bill, +who did not say so, had, and she brought their +loquacious informant back to St. Clement’s and the +tombs. After some time she learned that the interesting +churchyard was situated on the outskirts of +Sandover, on the landward side. The particular +attraction of the tombs she could not learn, her +informant having only been there once: “When my +Joey was nine months old, and it was a hot day +too, I carried him all the way; my sister, she +did offer to help me but—”</p> + +<p>Here she addressed herself to Polly, who sympathised +on the subject of heat and the weight of +nine months old babies until the tombs seemed +forgotten. But Bill, patient and persistent, was at +last rewarded by hearing that the charm of one +lay in the fact that it commemorated a man who +shot himself nearly a hundred years ago.</p> + +<p>“They say,” continued Joey’s mother, taking the +core of the apple from the disappointed Joey, to +the great relief of a maiden lady in a light gown, +“they do say he didn’t ought to’ve been buried +there at all, for they were very particular in those +days about burying suicides at the cross-roads. +However, some thought he hadn’t really shot himself, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>but that his friend, who he’d been gambling +with, murdered him or something. They didn’t +rightly know, so they put him in the churchyard +on the chance, as the nearest cross-roads had already +been took up for a farmer who cut his throat with a +sickle.”</p> + +<p>Bill, who had handled one, wondered how he did +it, but contented herself with asking the name of the +other suicide.</p> + +<p>“I can’t call to my mind,” was the answer she +received, “but he was one of the gentlefolks. I’ve +heard my good man say he was squire, but of course +it was long before his time; there’s none of the name +about now; but my husband, he’s a great one for +finding out things, he’s—”</p> + +<p>And there followed a detailed account of his +peculiarities and accomplishments, at the conclusion +of which Bill suggested that the forgotten name +might be Corby.</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” the voluble lady exclaimed with +delight. “Fancy you remembering it and me not! +I have got a head! Corby, that’s it—or is it Harborough? +There are both there, but I think it’s +Corby; they were the great people hereabouts; my +man says they used to own all the land, but they are +dead and gone now, every one of them.”</p> + +<p>“Who owns the land now?” asked Bill.</p> + +<p>“A Mr. Briant, a rich man living in London; he +comes to Bymouth for shooting, but he don’t trouble +Sandover much. He’s made a good thing of it, a +fine man of business he’s called, though I should call +him precious close myself.”</p> + +<p>A list of Mr. Briant’s delinquencies followed, with +an account of the way in which he was bringing +other seaside places into fashion, a form of speculation +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>to which he seemed addicted. Bill did not listen +very much, she was thinking of the long dead +Corbys and Harboroughs. She thought of them a +good deal both then and later, determining to pay +their graves a visit at the first opportunity. But +she did not put this determination into practice at +once, for she forgot all about it during the first two +days at Bymouth. The cousins arrived there on a +Thursday evening; Friday and Saturday were two +golden, never-to-be-forgotten days to Bill, in which +she cannot be said to have thought of anyone or anything. +She did precisely what she pleased, and, +according to Polly, undid all the little good she had +gained during the past months. “She is five years +younger, and ten times worse than she ever was,” +said that remorseless critic, and debated how best she +could speak to the offender about Gilchrist and her +behaviour to him. Bill did not trouble herself much +about Gilchrist at this time; Polly told her that she +ought to write to him every day as Bella did to Jack, +but this she entirely declined to do, and only under +great pressure could she be induced to write every +other day, considering even that a great waste of time +and stamps as she had nothing to say to him.</p> + +<p>While Polly was still pondering on the subject of +Gilchrist Harborough, Bill’s thoughts returned to the +other and older members of the family. On Sunday +she recalled her intention of visiting their graves, and +went to St. Clement’s, Sandover, for the afternoon +service. She walked in the heat of the day (thereby +losing her dinner), reached the church in time for the +<i>Magnificat</i>, and heard the dreariest music and the +most unedifying sermon in the world. But it did not +matter; she was seventeen, sound in wind and limb, +body and soul, and consequently quite unconscious +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>of herself mentally, morally and physically. The +womanhood, which had timidly tried to assert itself +during the early summer, had slipped away; the +thoughts and cares, the hopes and fancies which had +begun to grow in the past months were lulled to sleep +now by the sea and the sunshine, playmates which +had called her irresistibly during these last days. She +was a child still though she was not conscious of it; +afterwards, in looking back, she knew those three +perfect days were the last of her childhood.</p> + +<p>When the service was over she went out into the +churchyard to examine the gravestones, which did not +prove so numerous or so interesting as she had +expected. A fair proportion of the older ones were +in memory of the Corbys, who also, as she had seen +during the service, had two tablets within the church +inscribed to them. One she could not read; the +other was to the honour and glory of a lady named +Jane, wife of one Richard Corby, and evidently the +pattern and model of what a wife should be; she +possessed so many virtues that Bill felt, when she +saw how young she had died, that, though sad, it was +but natural.</p> + +<p>“She must have been the mother of the granddaughter +who managed the old Squire’s burial,” she +thought as she craned her neck to see the date. “I +expect Jane would have objected to that business. I +wonder what became of the granddaughter; perhaps +she is buried outside.”</p> + +<p>But she was not; there were no more recent +tombs to the family outside. Jane’s husband had +died and been buried abroad some years after his +wife, the event being announced briefly at the foot of +the encomium of that lady’s virtues. The old Squire, +who must have died later still, was not buried in this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>part of the country; the few graves in St. Clement’s +churchyard which bore the Corby name were all of +older date, the inscriptions of some half effaced, none +in their briefness telling a story, romantic or tragic, +of that forgotten past. The stone slab in memory of +the suicide was hardly an exception to this rule, and +the man whose brief record it bore was not a Corby +at all. <i>Peter Harborough, died at Corby Dean in this +parish. March 12th, 1799. Shot.</i> That was all; +of the history of his life and the tragedy of his death +there had been found nothing to say but the one +word, <i>shot</i>. To Bill it seemed almost terrible in its +uncompromising briefness. As she stood looking at +the stone, a brown-winged butterfly rested for a +moment on the moss-grown lettering. “Who did +it?” She asked herself. “Who and why?” But +there was no answer; she did not know who, nor +yet why some unknown hand had left this single +record of the tragedy.</p> + +<p>She turned away at last, and unfolding the cheap +little map of the district she had borrowed to help her +on the way to St. Clement’s, she spread it on a flat +tombstone and searched for Corby Dean. It used +to be the seat of the Corby family, she knew; now +that the house was pulled down the name seemed to +have passed to a small farm and a handful of cottages +built, apparently, on the spot where the house once +stood.</p> + +<p>“Corby Dean meant the house where Peter Harborough +was shot,” Bill said with her finger on the +map. “He was with the Corbys then. What +happened? What were they doing?”</p> + +<p>She clasped her hands round her knee and gave +herself up to dreams. All round her was the peace +of earliest September, rich in its haze of tender +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>warmth, summer still except for the opalescence of its +lights, the coolness of its lengthening shadows. But +Bill did not see it; she was building in her mind a +history of the past, reconstructing the life which had +been, groping in her memory, feeling that there, if +she could but find it, was a picture of this old tragedy; +a tale, nay, more than a tale, an actual experience if +she could but recall it. A robin chirped shrilly in +the churchyard yew; she started at the sound and +the half-awakened memory was gone from her, the +ghosts crept back to their graves, the past was +merged in shadows again. Here was nothing but +the stillness of Sunday afternoon, the peace of the +earth’s sabbaths of September. Such golden restful +days had been before these men lived, and still were +though they were gone.</p> + +<p>She rose, and folding her map, went out of the +churchyard shutting the gate behind her. Dead; +that generation was dead, gone, forgotten, that +generation—and the next? That too was lost in +mist—and the next? The Corbys were ended, +exhausted, but the Harboroughs? This brought her +to the present day and to Harborough of Bybridge. +She remembered that as yet she had heard nothing of +him, and so remembering, she determined if possible +to find out what manner of man he was—a determination +she need hardly have troubled to make, +for the next day, without effort on her own part, +she knew.</p> + +<p>Monday did not seem a propitious day for discoveries; +the weather was unsettled in the morning +and the afternoon was one of ceaseless rain. Polly, +seeing the state of affairs, prepared to spend three +pleasant hours over her wardrobe; she pulled the +table to the window, brought out her Sunday hat, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>took off the trimming, and proceeded to rearrange it +with the bows behind instead of before. Bella retired +to the bedroom (they only had one between the +three) to write a letter, and Bill found a delightful +occupation down-stairs. Their rooms were over the +village shop which was also the post-office for a wide +district. The rain seemed to make very little difference +to the business done there; in fact it appeared +to rather increase the number of customers, those +who were not obliged to come finding some excuse +to spend ten minutes or so in this cheerful little +centre of gossip.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rose, the landlady and post-mistress, was +short-handed just at present, her assistant having +gone home to nurse a sick mother. The girl who +helped with the housework came in to lend a hand, +but she was not clever, and the drawing-room lodgers +had an elaborate tea at five o’clock which seemed to +require much preparation in the afternoon. Thus it +was without much trouble that Bill persuaded Mrs. +Rose to let her help in the shop that day. The +permission once given she set to work with great +satisfaction, and soon found out something of the +whereabouts of the articles most in demand. The +stock was a very miscellaneous one, ranging from +boots and twine through strange specimens of +crockery and many-coloured cottons to Gregory’s +Powder and treacle. Occasionally it took some little +while to find the thing required, but the customers +were in no hurry; indeed, most of them seemed +more inclined to talk than to buy, Mrs. Rose seconding +them when she was not despatching a telegram +or otherwise conducting State-affairs through the +medium of her post-office. Bill talked a good deal +and listened even more; her parcels, it is to be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>feared, were not of the neatest, but her conversation +was admirable and the customers seemed satisfied.</p> + +<p>These customers were a representative lot. Some +were visitors who found the afternoon tedious and +came to while away the time by buying sweetmeats +or papers or strange little penny dolls, according to +their age and tastes; some were neighbours from +near by come for a pound of marmalade and a gossip; +others were from the next village, genuine customers +really anxious to transact business. The landlady +from the house next door came once, being in trouble +because her lodgers would have curry that night, and +“she without a mite of curry-powder in the house.” +A man from the coastguard station came asking for +a species of tobacco that Bill took ten minutes to +find, during which time he gave limitless information +about the prospects of the weather. One of the +customers was an anxious mother who wanted to buy +castor-oil, but Bill, discovering that there was none, +induced her to have Gregory’s Powder instead. “It +will do just as well if he is five years old,” she said +putting up a small dose. “Now, my dear, what for +you?” This was said to a little girl with eyes just +level with the top of the high counter.</p> + +<p>“Treacle, half cup,” was the answer, and the cup, +with the coppers wrapped in paper reposing inside it, +was handed up.</p> + +<p>Bill turned to the green barrel-shaped tin canister +with the label <i>golden syrup</i> and the spigot-tap she had +been itching to turn all the afternoon. As the purchaser +of Gregory’s Powder left the shop, another +customer came in, a young fellow in splashed gaiters +and streaming mackintosh. Bill did not notice him +much, being engaged in a struggle with the tap +grown stiff by reason of age and treacle. He held a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span>paper in his hand, perhaps a telegram, but he waited +patiently enough while an animated conversation +went on between Mrs. Rose and an elderly lady +whom she had just served. The tap moved a little, +and the treacle began to run, slowly, it must be +admitted, but still it ran, in the course of time +doubtless the cup would be half filled. Bill glanced +at the last comer; “a member of the surrounding +aristocracy” she thought, noticing an indefinable +something about his clothes and bearing and clear-cut +profile. When he turned the accuracy of the profile +was lost, but the eyes, very grave young eyes, met +hers and—</p> + +<p>Her heart began to beat very fast, though she +could not in the least tell why. She ought to have +lowered her eyes, but she did not; they were fixed; +she could not look away, and he did not look away +either. She could hear the beating of her heart +plainly, almost as if some giant hand were clutching +it. She was afraid, she knew not of what, afraid to +look, afraid to look away, most terribly afraid of +herself, ashamed, yet foolishly, triumphantly glad. +Her hands grew very cold and moist, her breath +came short, she lost consciousness of what was going +on around her; the little dim shop vanished, the pile +of boots and pans and seaside pails, the child who +peered at her over the counter, the women who +talked by the desk. They two were alone, he and +she, alone in all the world.</p> + +<p>“Cup’s runnin’ ower.”</p> + +<p>Bill started like one waking from a deep sleep; +the dark, greenish fluid was slowly running over the +sides of the cup. She forced the tap back; her hands +seemed so weak it was difficult to move it, and they +trembled till she could hardly hold the cup. She +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>gave it to the child,—one cannot put surplus treacle +back into a tightly closed canister—she gave it, full +as it was, and the child took it, carefully licking the +edges to prevent any running to waste, and walked +sedately out of the shop. Bill sat down on a little +high stool behind the counter; her face was very pale +and she was shaking all over. Mrs. Rose, who had +disposed of her last customer, saw her. “Why +Missie,” she said, “you’re tired out. I oughtn’t of +kep’ you here all this blessed afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“I am not tired, thank you,” Bill protested +mechanically.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Rose was unconvinced. “That I’m sure +you are; I never saw such a lot of folks as we had +this afternoon, a gossipin’ lot too. As for that Mrs. +Randal, I thought she’d never go, taking up the room +like that! I’m sure that gentleman was going to +send a telegram and he never did; he walked out of +the shop without sayin’ a word, a loss of sixpence to +the Government.”</p> + +<p>“Who is he, do you know?” Bill’s voice sounded +curiously stifled in her own ears; she looked down +as she spoke, but she could feel the colour rising to +her forehead.</p> + +<p>“Who? Why, young Mr. Harborough of +Bybridge.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX.<br> +<small>HARBOROUGH OF BYBRIDGE.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Kit Harborough</span> paced the lane restlessly. The +rain had ceased but he still wore his long mackintosh, +and in one pocket the unsent telegram was crushed +forgotten. For a moment he stood, then walked his +five yard beat of wet road again. A church-bell +sounded on the moist air,—curfew, they still tolled +curfew at Bymouth; it was eight o’clock and nearly +dark in the deep lane. On either hand rose high +banks luxuriant with unclipped nuts and dogwood +and sharp-thorned sloes, the late rain still dripping +from every spray; the pleasant scent of wet ferns +filled the air, the pungent flavour of the fungus on +some tree-stump in the hedge mingling with the +smell of the drenched grass growing tall and rank +beside the road. The fragrance of the refreshed +earth reached Kit but he hardly knew it, hardly heard +the creak of the hidden grasshoppers in the moist +darkness of the banks, hardly saw the wild flowers +glimmering in the roadside grass.</p> + +<p>He leaned against a gate and looked across the +darkening land, across the stubble-field whence the +corn had been carried, over the slope of the hill to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>the village in the hollow, a huddle of roofs in the +gathering gloom, the chimneys sharp against the sky +and the smoke-wreaths hanging low in the wet air. +Lights were beginning to twinkle here and there, one +in the house at the corner, the little shop where he +had seen her.</p> + +<p>He settled himself against the gate-post and +watched. He was two-and-twenty and had never +looked consciously at a woman before. Two and +twenty, and now he had found, among the mouse-traps +and string-balls and miscellaneous gear of a +village shop, a little brown witch with the spell of a +dead man’s charm in her eyes, the passion of a dead +woman’s love in her blood!</p> + +<p>A partridge rose suddenly on the further side of +the stubble-field; there was a whirr of wings, and +then silence again and the soft drip of the wet trees. +Then he heard a swift, light footfall, and saw a little +figure speeding up the lane, perhaps to reach the +high ground near the gate whence to look at the +surrounding country in the beauty of this tearful +twilight.</p> + +<p>Kit Harborough stepped out of the shadow by the +gate to the centre of the road: the girl stopped +abruptly with a little cry.</p> + +<p>“I knew you would come,” he said.</p> + +<p>He did not know how he knew, or if he really +knew; he did not stop to consider and she did not +ask him. “You!” was all she said, “You!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” and it seemed almost as if she were distressed. +“I—I wanted to speak to you; I have +something I must tell you.”</p> + +<p>“Me? I am very glad.”</p> + +<p>He was astonished at himself, being a curiously +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>diffident boy in some respects; so inexperienced, too, +that had he stopped to think he would never have +known what to say. But he did not think, he spoke +on impulse, and the words came naturally enough; +his only fear was lest she should escape and he should +lose her in the gloom, but even that was not a real +fear; he felt as if he could prevent her.</p> + +<p>She was standing in the middle of the road now. +“You are glad?” she said. “That is because you +do not know.”</p> + +<p>She looked up at him as she spoke and he, because +he could not help it, or because he willed it, or for +some other reason, or the want of one, looked down +at her.</p> + +<p>Ah the smell of the rain-washed earth and the +wood-smoke from the cottage below the hill, the +chirp of hidden grasshoppers, the drip, drip, drip +from the nut-boughs near the gate! Ah youth and +ignorance and the first sweet taste of love and life!</p> + +<p>The partridge, disturbed by the girl’s coming, +returned to rest chuckling softly. Kit looked round +but did not move; he was not very close to her; it +seemed almost as if he thought the place whereon she +stood was holy ground.</p> + +<p>“Bill!”—Polly’s voice rang shrilly—“Bill! Are +you up the lane? Come in at once!” For an +instant even the grasshoppers ceased, then—“Bill! +Bill!” came again, but no nearer, Polly did not wish +to brave the mud of the lane needlessly.</p> + +<p>“I must go,” Bill said; “and oh,”—with sudden +remorse for the lost moments—“I have not told +you!”</p> + +<p>“Tell me to-morrow.” He was surprised at his +own boldness. “I am staying here, at the River +House, and you—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>“We are staying at the shop—you know.” Bill +grew rosy in the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” he answered very softly.</p> + +<p>“We go away on Thursday, and I must tell you.”</p> + +<p>“Thursday!”</p> + +<p>“Bill!” Polly could not make up her mind +whether Bill was in the lane or not.</p> + +<p>But the culprit, who was thinking solely of the +news she had to tell Kit Harborough, did not heed +Polly. “I must tell you,” she said, “you must +hear, it is so unfair! But when? How?—oh, it is +hard!”</p> + +<p>“Hard?”</p> + +<p>“Bi-ill!”</p> + +<p>“I must go!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but first, when shall I see you? When will +you tell me?”</p> + +<p>“To-morrow early.” Bill instinctively fixed her +clandestine affairs for the time when the less energetic +cousins were not awake to their responsibilities or her +proceedings. “Early,—I’ll bathe before breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“So will I; I often go for a swim first thing, and +afterwards—”</p> + +<p>“I will meet you,”—she finished for him—“about +seven; I will tell you then.”</p> + +<p>“Bill! I can hear you talking! You are in the +lane!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Polly, and I am going back across the field +so I shall be home before you.” And she was over +the gate and down the field almost before Kit realised +she was gone.</p> + +<p>Polly turned round and went home; she had +never ventured further than the mouth of the lane, +neither was she certain that she heard Bill’s voice in +conversation, but she was exceedingly annoyed with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>Bill for having kept her standing there so long in +the damp. She was also slightly annoyed with herself +for being kept. “As if it mattered what Bill did!” +Only, as she was out (Bella had a romantic idea that +she wanted to look at the sea by night) she thought +she might as well see what Bill was doing. She had +an instinctive feeling, based on her general distrust of +humanity, that Bill was sure to be doing something +wrong.</p> + +<p>For the sake of her own satisfaction—Polly not +possessing the disposition which “rejoiceth not in +iniquity”—it is a pity she did not penetrate a little +way up the lane, for she certainly would have seen +Kit Harborough had she done so. He stood where +he was for a full minute after Bill had left him, absolutely +still in the middle of the road. It did not +matter; he was already so hopelessly late for dinner +at the River House that a minute either way could +make no difference. If he changed very quickly +there was a chance that he would be in time for the +cheese; earlier than that he could not expect to +appear. Dinner and such mundane matters did not +occur to him till after Bill had gone, and when they +did he wondered what excuse he was to give to his +host. On this subject he need not have troubled +himself, for his elaborate explanations were thrown +away, Mr. Briant not being deceived by them for a +moment.</p> + +<p>“Petticoat,” he observed briefly in answer to all +Kit had to say. He was a man of some experience, +and there was something in the boy’s manner, in his +very indifference to dinner, which betrayed him to +his elders.</p> + +<p>He flushed hotly; it was desecration even to think +of Bill and the meeting in the lane here.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>“Hullo! It seems a serious case,” some one +observed, and a man at Kit’s elbow inquired: “First, +isn’t it, Harborough? Lucky young dog, he’s never +met a divinity before; he has got it all to come.”</p> + +<p>Kit’s eyes flashed. “You are entirely mistaken,” +he said coldly.</p> + +<p>“All right,” his host said with great good-humour. +“Did you send my telegram?”</p> + +<p>Until that moment he had not thought of it; +“I—I forgot it,” he was obliged to answer confusedly.</p> + +<p>“What a deuce of a time she kept you!”</p> + +<p>“She did not! She did no such thing.”</p> + +<p>There was a roar of laughter, and Kit, realising his +blunder, had the good sense to leave it and apologise +for the neglect of the telegram. This being of but +slight importance was forgotten by the party far more +quickly than his unfortunate admission.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Bill was also taking the consequences +of her wanderings in the lane. Polly was +severely reprimanding her for going out after dark, +for keeping other people waiting about in the damp, +and for gossiping with farm-labourers and other +persons. To all of which Bill listened with the +tolerant indifference with which she often treated +Polly’s harangues. “Let’s have supper,” she said at +last. “I have told you I went out because I felt as +if—as if I should burst if I stopped in any longer. I +had to go out, to get away; it was a pure accident +that I met any one.”</p> + +<p>Polly said, “Oh, I dare say,” and repeated several +of her previous remarks with variations. Then they +had supper, Polly still a little difficult in temper; the +drawing-room lodgers had had steak and onions for +tea, and she being one who dearly loved what she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span>called “a relish with her tea,” had not yet got over +the appetising odour which had not served as a relish +to her own bread and jam.</p> + +<p>Never before in her life had Bill so longed to be +alone—to be absolutely by herself, if it were only for +half an hour. But it was out of the question; even +when they went to bed the only solitude possible was +the compromise of companionship offered when the +cousins were asleep. She thought once of stealing +softly down to the darkened sitting-room to spend an +hour there in the starlight, but the bedroom door +rattled so terribly that she was certain in opening it +to awaken Bella if not Polly. She was afraid of facing +their curious inquiries, she who so seldom had been +afraid before, who never knew when her conduct was +strange or worthy to invite inquiry until the fact was +plainly shown her; there was some subtle change in +her.</p> + +<p>She lay still on the outer edge of the wide low bed +she shared with Polly, and tried to think. The room +was very dark and quiet, yet she could not think. +There was neither Kit nor Gilchrist in her mind, +neither past, present, nor future; it was all a whirl, +with for paramount feeling the thought of that unmade +claim to the Harborough estates.</p> + +<p>“It is not fair,” she thought. “He shall know; +they shall fight fairly; I will tell, whether it makes +a difference or not.” Then the picture of Wood +Hall came into her mind, the stately house in the +autumn of its days, the great hall, the solemn rooms, +“Theo’s, all Theo’s! Theo there, Theo and the +boarders!” She laughed softly, half hysterically, at +the idea. “He thought I meant it,” she said.</p> + +<p>Polly muttered indistinctly in her sleep. Wood +Hall and the gardens, the tangled rose-walk and the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>lawns, how green the grass would be now! The +wood on the slope of the hill—there would be yellow +leaves here and there, and the bracken would be +golden—how very beautiful it all would be! September +suited the place, but October would suit it +even better, the long west front in the afternoon +glow, the great arched doorway, all of it. And so +on and on, a hundred vague ideas, a tangle of +emotions, but never Kit; she never once faced the +thought of him. At last she slept and dreamed—our +dreams are our own; we are not accountable for +them. In the morning things looked clearer and +emotions fainter. Sleep blots out some of the fancies +and brings facts into a better working perspective. +When in the morning Bill rose early to keep her +appointment she had a distinct notion of what she +was going to do. She got up and dressed quietly: +for the first time in her life she was troubled because +her gown was shabby; but she did not know why, +for she had not consciously considered the question +of Kit Harborough at all. She was going to meet +him, it is true, but that was solely to warn him of +the danger which threatened him. Still she was sorry +her frock was shabby, and her old straw hat a little +the worse for the plum turnovers and a good deal the +worse for wear.</p> + +<p>But she did not trouble herself much. By the +time she had finished her bath she had forgotten +about appearances; also to a certain extent she had +forgotten her troubles, washed them away in the +kindly sea or evaporated them in the sunny air: there +was not, up to the present, anything so very much +amiss in her world that still September morning. She +was whistling softly when Kit found her, wringing her +wet bathing-dress the while.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>“Let me do that for you,” he said.</p> + +<p>She held the dress a moment. “You had better +not,” she said, “it will make your hands blue; the +dye comes out like anything. The first time it got +wet I was like an ancient Briton; it is not so bad +now, but it still makes one a bit stripy.”</p> + +<p>Kit protested that he did not mind the dye and +took the dress while she gathered up her towels and +hung them in festoons about the tent, whistling when +she was on the far side.</p> + +<p>“Is that you?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she admitted, wondering if he thought it +unladylike.</p> + +<p>He did not; he seemed to think it clever. “What +a mimic you are!” he said. “It was just like a +chaffinch.”</p> + +<p>“I can imitate some things,—birds.” Bill forgot +her mockery of her fellow-men; she forgot all those +things, for there was a curious holy feeling about her +just then.</p> + +<p>Kit had finished wringing the dress and was carrying +it now as they walked slowly along the shore. +“Not all birds?” he was saying; “not a lark!”</p> + +<p>“No, not a lark, I have never tried to do that; I +don’t think I could. I don’t think there is anything +quite like a lark’s song; it is so completely, absolutely +happy; I don’t believe anyone could imitate +that.”</p> + +<p>He agreed with her and then asked if she knew +Shelley’s Ode to the Skylark. They were not +approaching the business of their interview very +rapidly.</p> + +<p>Bill shook her head. “I don’t know any of his +poetry,” she said, “except a piece about the moon +which we had to analyse in our grammar-class last +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>Christmas. It was beautiful poetry, though I never +could find the principal sentence.”</p> + +<p>“What a shame to give you Shelley for that!”</p> + +<p>Bill thought it was too, and then Kit told her he +believed she would like the Ode to the Skylark.</p> + +<p>“Tell me some,” she said.</p> + +<p>He obeyed and repeated the greater part. Business +was receding even further into the distance.</p> + +<p>His was somewhat of a studious nature, and he +had, moreover, the musician’s ear for harmonious +sound and the unspoiled heart to delight in beautiful +thought. She was a greedy listener, her mind an +empty well in its ignorance, in its insatiable desire to +be filled; she, too, had the love of melody, though +never till that moment had she felt the need of the +universe and of her own soul to be expressed in +rhythm. But now the whole world somehow became +one pulsing harmony, and they two wandered along the +lonely shore in that dream which comes twice to no +man. The air around them was delicate and crisp, +fresh yet tenderly soft, the sunlight chastened and +mild, threading with sloping bars the mist on the +land, gleaming bright and pale on the wet sand and +the incoming tide and the great white gulls that +played in the creeping waves.</p> + +<p>Business and the purpose of their meeting receded +further and further; indeed, it might almost have +been forgotten entirely had it not been reached by a +most circuitous route through Byron and Heine. +They had been speaking of the sea’s place in poetry +and concluded with the opinion that none of the +poets had quite expressed their sentiments on the +subject.</p> + +<p>“They don’t seem to get at the sort of mother-feeling,” +Bill said at last; “at least none of those we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>know do. I mean the kind of feeling of going home +that you get when you come near the sea—you know +what I mean? It seems sometimes as if it stretched +out its arms to you and called you,—don’t you +hear?”</p> + +<p>She listened and he listened too, for of course he +understood what she was trying to say for both. +He had felt it as she had, and neither had said it +before, and both were certain of an understanding +now, wherein lay the delight and the danger.</p> + +<p>“Once,” Bill said, “I saw four lines which were a +little about the feeling I mean; do you know them?</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first2">‘Hail to thee, oh thou Ocean eterne!</div> +<div class="verse">Like voices of home thy waters are rushing,</div> +<div class="verse">Like visions of childhood saw I a glimmering</div> +<div class="verse">Over thy heaving billowy realm.’”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>Kit said he did not know the lines and asked +whose they were; but she could only tell him that +she had found them quoted in a book of Mr. Dane’s. +“I’ll ask him,” she said; “I dare say he will know, +and he is sure to tell me. He is my great friend, +you know, the rector of Ashelton.”</p> + +<p>“Ashelton!” Kit exclaimed. “Do you know +Ashelton?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” and then Bill remembered, and the mutual +acquaintance with Ashelton and the surrounding +district, which seemed so very delightful to her +companion, wore quite another aspect to her. “I +had almost forgotten,” she went on; “I mean, forgotten +what I had come to say; but I must tell you, +I will tell you about it.”</p> + +<p>And forgetting the poets and the seductive calling +of the sea she told him all,—of the Australian and +his claim, of its strength, and of his decision to be +silent until after old Mr. Harborough’s death; she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>told him exactly how it stood, and how she thought +it unfair he should not know what threatened him. +He listened quietly as she talked, coldly, unconsciously +demonstrating to her one good gift that an +old family bestows upon its children, the power to +receive a blow unmoved, to hear with the silence of +pride and to speak with the indifference of studied +self-control. Kit Harborough had not much for +which to thank his ancestors; the dead hand of the +past was heavy upon him and the weight of +tradition but little in his favour; nevertheless his +birth and breeding helped him to receive Bill’s blow +with a proud composure, almost an indifference which +roused her deepest admiration, though at the same +time it touched her curiously.</p> + +<p>She talked on fast to hide her own feelings. +“They seem to think,” she said, though she had +said it before and the whole case was painfully clear +now, “they seem to think that if Mr. Harborough +is left to himself he will not make a will; I don’t +know why.”</p> + +<p>“Because he does not like me,” Kit told her.</p> + +<p>“He wishes me to have the property simply on +account of the name. I am called Harborough +because of the property, and I am,—was to have had +it because of the name; but he wishes it so little that +since he is sure I should have it, he would not set it +down.”</p> + +<p>“But if he knew of Theo—of the other one?”</p> + +<p>“He still would not make a will, or if he did it +would not be in my favour; the other man is a +Harborough and so fulfils his only condition. I +have told you he dislikes me.”</p> + +<p>“He would dislike Theo a good deal more if he +knew him,” Bill said warmly; “he is going to cut +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>down the wood if he gets the estate, and plough the +land, and grow turnips in the park.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you could make my uncle believe +that.” Kit’s composure belied his feelings. “And +if one could, if one could induce him to make a will, +I don’t believe I should care to do it, and, besides, +you know, it might not make much difference after +all. Thank you, thank you very much for telling +me,”—the composure was not nearly so marked; +stoicism is not perfect at two-and-twenty; “it was +very good of you to do it. I’m glad to know; it’s +much easier when one knows what’s coming, but I +can’t exactly take advantage of it; you didn’t really +mean me to, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But the house,” Bill pleaded, “the beautiful, +beautiful house! Think of it, the long west front +with the sunset on it,—the great hall with the +dragons on the mantelpiece—the rooms where all +your people were born and died!”</p> + +<p>“I know.”</p> + +<p>They were sitting on a pebbly ridge now; Kit +ground his stick into the shingles and answered in a +muffled voice, not looking at her. “But the thing +is not settled yet,” he went on after a pause. “He +will have to fight for it whether there is a will or not; +he may not win, and,—and if he does, they are his +people too; he is more really Harborough than I am.”</p> + +<p>“He does not care for them,” Bill said; “he +despises old families and he does not care for tradition; +he would like the position but he does not +really care for anything else; he would not love nor +understand the place a little bit. He would save +money, I dare say, perhaps make it, and in time +build up a new family on the old foundation. He is +just fitted to found a new family; he would do it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>splendidly, he has the right kind of brains and +opinions; but he is not in the least fitted to carry on +an old name,—he has not been bred up to it or +educated for it. You don’t know him or else you +would understand.”</p> + +<p>“I understand very well indeed. But what is the +use? Why do you talk about it?”</p> + +<p>“Because,” Bill answered vehemently, “the place +is what it is; because of the house and the wood—think +of cutting down the wood! Because it seems +so likely he will get it, and if it were mine I would +never let it go. If it had belonged to my people, as +it has to yours, I would do anything—I should not +care what—to get it and keep it.”</p> + +<p>The shingles rattled sharply against one another +as Kit moved. “Do you think I don’t care?” he +asked almost savagely. “But if it is that business +of the will you mean, I can’t do it. I don’t suppose +it would make a difference, and anyhow I can’t do +it; you know I can’t.”</p> + +<p>“Then I will,” Bill said. “I will see Mr. Harborough +and explain. I will get him to make a +will; I believe I could.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Kit exclaimed, “no, you must not do that. +It would be no better than if I did; it would be +taking an unfair advantage of the other man,—promise +me you will not do it.”</p> + +<p>Bill hesitated. “I have taken an advantage of +him already in telling you,” she said.</p> + +<p>“That is different; it was only warning, preparing +me for what is to come; you were not using your +knowledge against the other man; you would not do +that.”</p> + +<p>Bill was not so sure; though, true to her reflective +nature, she felt at the moment that perhaps he was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span>right. “Then you will give it up,” she said at last, +“you will let a man who does not understand have +the house and everything?”</p> + +<p>“Not unless I am compelled.”</p> + +<p>“And will you be compelled? What do you +think?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; it sounds pretty bad as you have +told it, of course. It may not be; I can’t tell.”</p> + +<p>Bill looked hopelessly out to sea. “It is my fault,” +she said, more to herself than to him, “all my fault.”</p> + +<p>“Your fault?” he asked. “How? What have +you to do with it?”</p> + +<p>“It was through me that Theo knew of his claim, +through the mass in the Harborough chapel, and it +was I who got the mass to be read. Yes, you have +heard about it, of course, but you did not know it +was my doing; nobody does except one person, but +it was, all the same. Mr. Harborough had it said to +please me, or at least because I suggested it; it was +my idea, and it was all through that service that +Theo heard of his claim to Wood Hall. A man, an +antiquary, one of those interfering people who are +always digging in ancestral dust-heaps and finding +things which had much better not be found, heard +about the service and came to enquire into it. He +came and he inquired, and poked about, and found +out a lot about the chapel and the Harboroughs; +then he met Theo, and talked to him, and found out +all about him too. Before that nobody knew anything +of Theo, and he did not know anything of the +claim; he never troubled about his relationship to +you other Harboroughs; but between them he and +Mr. Wagnall pieced it all out, and there you are; +that is how he found out he had a claim. If it had +not been for that mass bringing Mr. Wagnall to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>Wrugglesby it would never have been discovered; it +is all my fault.”</p> + +<p>Kit did not share this opinion. “It is not your +fault,” he said decidedly; “not a bit in the world; +you never knew what would come of it.”</p> + +<p>“I did it, all the same.”</p> + +<p>“But you are not to blame; you are not responsible +because the truth, if it is the truth, has been +found out, and no one would blame you for it if +you were. I don’t think you to blame, and I am the +person most concerned, after this Theo.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he doesn’t think I have had anything to do +with it,” Bill said, smiling a little at the idea.</p> + +<p>“Very well then, that is settled,” Kit said more +lightly; “you are not to blame; nobody thinks so, +neither you, nor I, nor Theo. By the way, you +seem to be very intimate with Theo,—great friends +or great enemies, which is it?”</p> + +<p>“Both,” said Bill smiling; “I am going to marry +him.”</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the smile died out of her eyes, out +of her heart, out of sea and sky and world, and for +the first time in her life she was afraid to think.</p> + +<p>Kit turned and looked at her full, his well-bred, +stoical face expressing nothing, only his grave eyes +very grave as he said slowly: “You are going to +marry him?”</p> + +<p>She nodded, meeting his eyes for a minute; and +then she looked out to sea, driving her palms deep +among the small pebbles as she sat, one hand on +either side, staring rigidly before her.</p> + +<p>The gulls dipped down to the breaking waves and +circled above in the pale-toned sky; sea and sky +alike were as tinted silver, the whole day delicate, +tender-hued, like the colours found in a pearl. A +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>great peace, a great silence everywhere; no sound +but the ripple of the waves that crept up the sand, +crept till they reached the shingle where the girl sat, +and broke with tiny spray almost at her feet.</p> + +<p>“We had better move; the tide is coming up.”</p> + +<p>The voice of the man beside her aroused her. He +suddenly seemed a man to her, a boy no longer: it +seemed too as though there was a great gulf between +them. She rose automatically and they walked along +the shore in the direction of the village. He was +very kind and polite; there was an indefinable +difference between his manners and those of the +people she usually met, but it only made her the +more conscious of the difference between herself and +him. He talked as they went, easily and well, on +indifferent topics, the cliffs, the shore, the places of +interest about, the peculiarity of the stones on the +beach. Once he picked one up, dark grey and +heavy, a flint sea-urchin, he told her it was, rather an +uncommon fossil, he said, as he gave it to her. She +took it, and talked about it and a dozen other things, +in spite of her consciousness of the gulf, as easy and +as self-possessed as he. Why not? Was she not +Bill, the mimic, the player’s child? She was sure +just then that he had been a player, a strolling +mummer, a singer ever on tour, perhaps even the +circus-clown Polly called him. And she,—she was a +clown too, a buffoon, a fool, for all that she wore no +motley, to make old men laugh with her songs and +quips, to charm young men for a moment with her +hundred changes,—“all things by turn and nothing +long”—nothing except the little gipsy creature that +was under all and that was miles and miles away +from Kit Harborough of Bybridge, from him and +the women of his class. She knew those women, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>tall, fair, white-skinned, serenely unconscious. She +was a long way from them, from everyone in the +universe, farthest of all from this boy with his considerate +courtesy, his polite speech, his accurate +clothes. She was painfully conscious of his clothes +and even more so of her own, of her work-stained +hands, her too rapid movements. She was conscious +of it all, but more than all of a passionate desire to +run away and hide with the wild things which were +her kin, to run away not from him alone but from +all her world, to run right away into the woods and +hide even from herself, if it could be.</p> + +<p>But she did not run away, as she would have done +some months earlier; pride held her back and crushed +the wild nature down, helping her to politeness and +teaching her to give her little brown hand at parting +much as Kit Harborough did. So with some +formality they said good-bye, and parted at the top +of the cliff-path, he to the left to the River House, +she to the right to the little shop where Bella was +waiting breakfast and Polly finishing a belated toilet.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXI.<br> +<small>THE ACQUISITIVE FACULTY.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Polly</span> may have been a clever woman, as Mr. James +Brownlow had said she was, but in his catalogue of +her abilities he omitted to mention her one great gift, +her undeniable talent for getting things. She was a +true collector and picker-up of trifles; she had +brought this too little appreciated art to a rare perfection, +and she never went anywhere without +acquiring something, never came home completely +empty-handed, never declined or passed by a single +article or opportunity however trivial or cumbersome. +Her motto was <i>It might be useful.</i> “If she went to +the Sahara,” Bill said, “she would bring home sand for +the chickens’ run.” But besides the collectors’ art +Polly possessed the true genius for getting, not +begging nor demanding, but annexing calmly as by +right divine, or acquiring gracefully as bestowing a +favour in accepting one. “I don’t ask for things,” +she used to say; “people always offer them to me. +I am sure I don’t know how it is, but they do, and it +looks so rude to refuse.”</p> + +<p>So she never refused, and seldom went anywhere +or met anyone without directly or indirectly turning +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>the occasion to profit. Bymouth did not promise a +very likely field for her abilities, but even here she +found and seized an opportunity. It was late in the +visit certainly, not till after their fellow-lodgers had +gone. This took place on Tuesday, the day on +which Bill told Kit Harborough of the claim.</p> + +<p>The drawing-room family left at one o’clock, the +cousins watching them go. They drove to Bybridge +in a small wagonette, and it was interesting to see +them getting into it, for the family was large, far too +large for the wagonette.</p> + +<p>“They will never do it,” Bella said as she watched +them.</p> + +<p>“After the way in which they packed into that +bedroom,” Polly remarked severely, “I should say +they could go anywhere or anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“They had two bedrooms,” Bill said; “there was +another up the yard.”</p> + +<p>“I call it positively indecent,” was Polly’s opinion, +but Bill asked: “Where is the indecency? The +girls were in one and the boys in the other. Mrs. +looked after the girls and Mr. after the boys; they +had more space apiece than we three have, and I am +sure we are all right.”</p> + +<p>Polly explained that their own arrangement was +quite different and much better, but Bill, who had +now joined Bella at the window, did not pay any +attention to her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do come and look, Polly,” she said; “they +have nearly done it. They would do it easily if it +were not for the luggage; they ought to have a cart +for that.”</p> + +<p>“They are far too stingy,” Polly observed contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“The mother will nurse the baby,” Bill went on,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span> +“and the father the next-sized one, and the little +girl that big bundle. They have left one box out.”</p> + +<p>“Where will they put it?” Bella said.</p> + +<p>“They can’t get it in front,” was Bill’s opinion; +“the coachman can hardly see round the rampart of +luggage as it is. They are going to try though. If +they would put it inside it could be managed. There +it goes! I knew it would fall off the front! If you +were to put it—”</p> + +<p>“Come in, Bill!” Polly seized Bill’s arm. “Come +in at once! It is no business of yours; let people +manage their own concerns. I am ashamed of you!”</p> + +<p>But Bill was not ashamed of herself; she was far +too much absorbed in the difficulties of the family to +care for Polly, and when someone in the wagonette +below having heard her voice called up to know what +she had said, she leaned out of the window again and +told them. “Put it inside; I believe you could do +it then,—not that way, small end down. You don’t +mind me suggesting it, do you? It would have been +such a pity” (“Bill!”) “if you couldn’t all get in. +That’s right; now” (“Bill! Shut that window, +Bella.”) “if the two little boys sit on it and the +biggest one stands on the step—that’s splendid!”</p> + +<p>“Shut that window, Bella!”</p> + +<p>Bella shut the window almost on to Bill’s neck, +leaving her no choice but to draw her head in. The +family, who did not appear to resent her interference, +shouted their thanks to where she had been, while +Bella, who had been as much annoyed as Polly by +Bill’s behaviour, joined the elder cousin in telling the +culprit so.</p> + +<p>But Bill did not mind much. “It would have +been such a pity if they had not managed it,” she +said, “and I don’t believe they could any other way.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>“It was no affair of yours,” Bella said; “I don’t +see why you wanted to make such an exhibition of +yourself. There were people passing too, one of +those shooting men from the River House had just +come out of the post-office; he did stare at you, and +no wonder!”</p> + +<p>Bill said she did not care, which was true; but she +did not know that the man described the incident, +inclusive of her and her directions, in Kit Harborough’s +hearing that evening. Kit recognised her +from the description, as Gilchrist had done when his +lawyer-friend Ferguson described her, and Kit, like +Gilchrist, did not betray her identity. He said even +less about her than did Gilchrist, though he experienced +a youthful desire to knock the informant down +when he announced an intention of finding out who +the girl was. But the pugilistic wish was restrained, +Kit reflecting that, as Bill was leaving the day after +to-morrow, it was most unlikely the fellow would +find out anything about her; and, after all, that he +should wish to do so was, in Kit’s opinion, quite +natural and only what was to be expected. It was +also, in the same opinion, quite natural that Bill +should assist the family in the wagonette with her +advice, quite natural and quite right; indeed, so right +that Kit never questioned its propriety at all, possibly +because she did it; though in his defence it must be +said that he troubled less about the correctness of +an action than did Gilchrist, thinking not at all of +“how it looked.” He had been brought up among +people who, being quite sure of themselves and their +public, never troubled as to how a thing might +look.</p> + +<p>Polly had not been so brought up, and, conscious +that her actions would not always bear investigation,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> +she was most anxious that appearances should, when +possible, be beyond reproach. She lectured Bill +proportionately, and was, as usual, listened to with +indifference; but when at last Polly brought her +remarks to a close with, “It was like everything else +you do, most unladylike,” Bill said rather wistfully: +“I suppose I am unladylike, Polly?”</p> + +<p>“Hopelessly,” was the crushing answer.</p> + +<p>“I should like to be better,” the voice was a +shade more wistful; “I would try if I knew what +to do.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t lean out of the window to give advice +to strangers,” Polly said, and Bill making no reply, +she began to perceive that her young cousin was +in an unusually pliant mood. Seeing this she seized +the opportunity, the first that had offered, of speaking +to her on her behaviour to Gilchrist. As a +preliminary she heaved a deep sigh, and, after a +quick glance at the girl, began with chastened +mildness.</p> + +<p>“After all,” she said, “to lean out of the window +like that is only a small thing, but it is an illustration +of your ways. Your ways often trouble me, Bill, do +you know that? Sometimes I feel as if I shall give +you up entirely, and then again sometimes I think +you really are ignorant and would try to do better +if you only knew how your behaviour looked.”</p> + +<p>Bill twisted restively, Polly’s voice having taken on +the melancholy semi-nasal drawl which belonged to +her part of the grieved guardian. Bill did not +believe in her at any time, and that afternoon the +manner irritated instead of amusing. But she was +sincerely convinced of her own shortcomings, and +though she had no great opinion of Polly, there +was no one else to whom she could go; so she said:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span> +“Tell me what I do wrong; you need not put in all +that about being sorry and the rest; I know how +that goes, and can fill it in for myself.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Bill,” Polly said with dignity; but +quickly seeing the girl’s attitude of mind and the +precariousness of her own opportunity, she shortened +her part and, after a brief remark on her cousin’s +impoliteness and her own forbearance, got to business +without further delay.</p> + +<p>“You want to know where I think you wrong? I +will tell you one or two things,”—she spoke as one +who has a wide range of examples from which to +choose. “There is your behaviour to Gilchrist to +begin with; you do not behave at all nicely to him.”</p> + +<p>“To Theo!” Bill exclaimed in astonishment, “to +him! What do I do wrong to him?”</p> + +<p>“You call him Theo for one thing; he objects to +it and it is ridiculous; all nicknames are ridiculous.”</p> + +<p>“All?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, all; and abbreviations of names are almost +as bad.—I don’t see why you should not be called +Wilhelmina instead of Bill. It does not suit you, +it is true, but I am sure he would prefer it, besides +Bill is vulgar; don’t you think so yourself?”</p> + +<p>“He can call me Wilhelmina if he likes,” Bill said +in a subdued voice. “And as for Theo, that is +easily altered; He can be Gilchrist if he wishes it, +though I think it is quite as unsuitable as Wilhelmina +for me.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Bill,”—Polly was delighted to have +made so much impression—“it is not a question +of what you think but of what he wishes. You +ought to consider his wishes; you ought to try +to please him and consult his tastes; remember, he is +proposing to give you a great deal, and as you can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> +give him nothing in return except a little consideration, +it is hardly right to withhold that as you do.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” Bill’s voice, quiet and +cold, was almost like that of one who faces an +unexpected shock.</p> + +<p>Polly, really in her element now, enumerated a +list of the things Bill had done wrong, or might have +done right, concluding her remarks with,—“Try +to be pleasant to him, talk seriously when he wants +you to, be cheerful and lively when he is in the +humour for it, put on your best dress and try to +make yourself nice when he comes. It is your duty, +you know, you owe it to him. Make the most +of yourself; don’t set him to water the garden and +so on, but talk to him and be pleasant.”</p> + +<p>“Always, do you mean?”</p> + +<p>There was something very like consternation in +Bill’s tone, but Polly did not know it, and answered +readily,—“Yes, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Always?” Bill dropped her hands on the table. +“I can’t do it,” she said vehemently; “it is simply +no use, Polly, I can’t do it; I shall have to throw +it up.”</p> + +<p>“Throw what up? What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t be respectable always; it is no use trying; +he would be sure to find me out after we were +married, if not before. He knew the sort of person +I was when he asked me to marry him; if he +did not like it why did he ask me?”</p> + +<p>“You did not call him Theo before you were +engaged,” Polly said, wisely attacking the details and +not the mass of Bill’s protest. “And of course,” +she went on, “people usually expect their <i>fiancées</i> +will be nice to them. The average girl does it +as a matter of course because she wishes to; it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> +is because you do not seem to know what is expected +of you, and never wish to do what is right, that +I have had to speak to you.”</p> + +<p>“It is part of the contract, you think?” Bill +asked.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not; there is no contract in the +matter.”</p> + +<p>So Polly said, but Bill took her meaning otherwise, +as it was intended she should, and there was +a long silence. Polly, feeling the subject was closed, +rose and moved about the room, while Bill sat lost +in thought. At last the younger cousin spoke. “I +will try to do what is right,” she said, “I will really. +I’ll write to Theo—to Gilchrist this afternoon, +though I did write yesterday. I’ll take the letter +out on the sands with me.”</p> + +<p>Polly was very much pleased; here was an obvious +sign of repentance, and one moreover which would +keep Bill from wading for shrimps, an occupation +she herself strongly disapproved of. She set off for +the shore that afternoon with a really happy mind; +she had settled Bill’s affairs, she had arranged for +a good tea when she should come in, and the +drawing-room family, a great source of annoyance to +her, were gone. She felt very well pleased with the +world in general and herself in particular as she +sat watching Bill writing her letter, a grotesquely and +pathetically polite letter it was too, if only she had +known it. Polly felt that the stay at Bymouth had +been most successful; before she finally left she was +even more convinced of this, for while at the little +seaside resort she achieved a piece of business which +even astonished herself. “Fancy,” she used to say +with complacency afterwards, “fancy meeting my +future landlord at a little place like that!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>But this she did in the person of the old gentleman +who came to the drawing-room floor on +Tuesday evening. He only arrived on Tuesday, +and Polly left on Thursday; but she made good use +of her time and struck up a great friendship with +him and his wife, sympathising with their ailments, +recommending a butcher, telling them in the course +of time something of her own difficulties. They +were interested, pleased, favourably impressed. They +gave her a good deal of advice,—this she asked for +but did not necessarily take; they also eventually +gave her a little help,—this she did not ask for +but, true to her rule, took without hesitation.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman had some house property in +London, small houses Bayswater way, “a shrewd +investment,”—Polly was sure of it. The tenants had +been giving a great deal of trouble lately, “disgraceful,”—Polly +was sympathetic. It was a capital place +for apartments, and Polly could not do better than +settle in that part when she made her “plucky +venture;” that was the old gentleman’s advice. +One of the houses was empty now, and before +Polly left on Thursday, she was warmly pressed to +take it on the most advantageous terms; that was +the old gentleman’s offer.</p> + +<p>Polly thanked him in her very best manner, saying +she doubly appreciated his kindness since she was so +much alone in the world. Mr. Brownlow had died +during the summer, and Polly said at the time that +it was convenient as they were already in mourning; +she said it was convenient now, since she was consequently +free to conduct her affairs without his advice +and criticism. She did not say this to the old +gentleman, but told him, after thanking him for his +offer, that she must talk it over with her cousins<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> +before finally accepting it; adding that she was +nearly sure of their approval, quite sure of their +obligation on her behalf and their own for his kindness,—and +so forth.</p> + +<p>Polly was vastly pleased with herself and detailed +the whole affair with much satisfaction to the two +younger girls as they had a hurried lunch before +starting on their walk to Bybridge station. Bella +was not at all congratulatory; she did not like +having the family affairs discussed with strangers, +neither did she like posing as part of Polly’s responsibilities.</p> + +<p>“I am not,” she said, “and I don’t see why you +should say I am. I am only your cousin and that is +no responsibility, and not such a wonderfully near +relationship either.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Polly retorted, “not when you are married +to a rich man like Jack Dawson and I let lodgings in +town for a bare living; the relationship will not be +near then, I admit,” and Polly sniffed.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean that!” Bella cried; “Oh, you +are unkind! I don’t look down on you and I never +shall; it is with your cadging ways that I hate to be +mixed up.”</p> + +<p>“Polly is a born cadger,” Bill said resignedly, +“and we are part of her stock in trade. She is like +a beggar-woman singing in the street and never +asking for pennies, but always getting them. I am +her hired baby and you are her imitation cough; she +would not get on nearly so well without us.”</p> + +<p>“Well, at all events you reap the benefit of what +I get,” Polly said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” Bill agreed readily.</p> + +<p>“And I don’t think, Bill, that you will ever +despise me.” Polly’s tone was becoming highly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span> +moral. “It is a great comfort to me to think that +when you leave me and marry you will never look +down on or ignore me. It is true you will never +have Bella’s temptation, but I am sure you would +not do it.”</p> + +<p>“You are unkind!” Bella repeated. But Bill’s +face had suddenly hardened; she was thinking of +Gilchrist and Wood Hall and the county who were +going to be compelled to recognise him and his wife,—his +wife who would have to reform and perhaps +forget.</p> + +<p>“No,” she said suddenly, almost passionately; “I +will never forget you, Polly, never look down on +you, never, no matter where I am, nor what I +become. If I lived in a palace you should come and +stay with me; if I married a king he should receive +you and take you in to dinner, and all the silly +courtiers should bow down to you because you were +mine. You are an old fraud, Polly, and a cadger, +and a bit of a humbug too, but I am fond of you all +the same. We are not swells, you and I, but we +will stand by each other, and I will never, never +forget!”</p> + +<p>“That is a very nice spirit,” Polly said impressively +and very much through her nose.</p> + +<p>“Do you think I would forget?” Bella asked +rather hurt. “You seem to think I am a horrid +creature.”</p> + +<p>“No, we don’t,” Bill answered her, “of course we +don’t; we know really that you never would be +ashamed of your grubby relations. Don’t let us +talk any more nonsense about it.”</p> + +<p>So peace was restored, and Polly began cutting +slices of the cold shoulder of mutton while the +younger girls finished their lunch.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span>“If you married a king,” Bella said to Bill laughing, +“he might object to Polly walking up to the +palace with a nosebag of apples sticking out of the +middle of her mackintosh.”</p> + +<p>“Not if he had married me; he would have got +used to that sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>Bella laughed again. “It is a good thing your +Theo is not very particular about appearances.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know very much about Theo,” Bill +answered quietly.</p> + +<p>“I know this much,” Bella replied; “he will not +let you do just as you like if it happens to be something +he does not like and has good reason to think +wrong.”</p> + +<p>“There may be difficulties,” Bill admitted with +the glimmer of a smile, her war-smile which Polly +knew to her cost.</p> + +<p>“Bill is very easy to manage when you understand +her,” that lady said as she sharpened her knife. +“Gilchrist will find out how to do it in time; at +least he may.”</p> + +<p>She added the last words under her breath, neither +of the others hearing her, for Bella was asking in +astonishment: “You would never really oppose a +man you loved, would you, Bill?”</p> + +<p>Bill debated the question for a moment looking +straight before her. “No,” she said at last, “I +suppose I should not.” Then she changed the +subject abruptly: “What is that meat for, Polly?”</p> + +<p>“To take home with us. I am not going to leave +all that good meat behind; there is quite enough +now on the bone to look decent, and it would be a +great pity to leave all this.”</p> + +<p>Bella did not approve of this proceeding, but +Polly, untroubled by her objections, packed the meat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> +up. “There,” she said, giving the parcel a final pat, +“it will come in very nicely for our supper when we +get home, and I am sure there is quite a lot on the +joint still.”</p> + +<p>Bill examined it gravely. “There is enough for +our cat here,” she said: “it seems a pity to leave +that. Let’s take it; we haven’t time to scrape it off, +but you might put the bone in your hat-box; it +would go in if I broke it in half.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Bill,” Polly said with +dignity, “ridiculous and mean. I don’t see anything +to laugh at, Bella.”</p> + +<p>Apparently Bella did, but Polly never minded +being laughed at, and it was in a friendly fashion that +the three cousins started for home. In the main the +three agreed admirably; Bella seldom opposed Polly, +and Bill, since she had developed an opposing individuality, +had been little with them; moreover, she +was of a nature with which it was not easy to quarrel. +Polly, however, having a respect for her ability to +give trouble on occasions, sent her back to Theresa at +Ashelton two days after their return to Wrugglesby. +“I have got a lot of things to settle,” she explained +to Bella, “and I can do them better without +her.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span> +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXII.<br> +<small>POLLY SETTLES THINGS.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> Bill was packed off to Ashelton, and then Polly +proceeded to settle things to her own complete +satisfaction. She saw the house in Bayswater and +settled that; she saw the parents of the few pupils +remaining to her and settled them very completely; +and then she wound up her connection with +Wrugglesby with but few difficulties and not a +single regret.</p> + +<p>“Well, I cannot say I ever cared for it,” she said +when Bella expressed some natural sorrow at leaving +the town which had been her home for nearly seven +years. “I never was fitted for a pokey little place +like this; I need a wider life.”</p> + +<p>“It may be pokey,” Bella declared with tears in +her eyes, “but I like it, and I am sorry to leave it, +and to leave the shabby old house and the shabby +old furniture.”</p> + +<p>“We are not leaving the furniture,” Polly said +quickly. “We are taking all we want with us, and +only selling what is of no use to any of us. You +and Theresa have each chosen what you wanted; +one can’t keep all the rubbish.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>The last was added very decidedly, for there had +been some discussion about the furniture. Bella had +fallen in quietly enough with Polly’s judicious +arrangements, but Bill, who cherished ridiculous +sentiments about old and cumbersome articles of +furniture, had disputed Polly’s decision article by +article, winning sometimes, losing sometimes, and +only desisting when it was obvious that the little +house at Bayswater could hold no more. All this +had taken place during the visits she and Theresa +occasionally paid the cousins at Wrugglesby during +the time of the settlement. It was all over now, +arranged finally some days ago; Polly was only +afraid of reopening the question. The three were +assembled for the last time at Langford House, +Robert having driven Bill to Wrugglesby that afternoon +to see the last of the old place and the old +associations. There was nothing at all to be done, +it was really nonsense for her to come, Polly said, +and was not at all surprised that Bill did not arrive +till almost dark.</p> + +<p>Robert had been delayed in starting, and when +Wrugglesby was reached Bill would not be driven to +the house, but got down from the dog-cart at the +stables and walked, with something clinking forgotten +in her pocket, down the familiar streets, saying a +silent good-bye. It was a grey, gusty afternoon, the +first of October. There were dead leaves in the +quiet corners,—all the corners were quiet here—and +the wind came now and then whirling them about +her feet. It was a good wind, fresh and sweet for +all its strength, and the girl felt she loved it; it was +the home-wind to her, the wind of the Eastern +Counties. And the greyness and the peace and the +great sense of space and abundant room were home +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>to her, the land of the Eastern Counties, not grand +at all, but still and wide, and very, very dear.</p> + +<p>She stood a moment on the outskirts of the little +town looking across the well remembered country. +Then she turned and walked home through the small, +ill-paved streets, past the familiar shops,—those with +the new fronts, those with the old many-paned +windows; past the police-station, the Georgian house +with the legend <i>County Police</i> set over the door; past +the church with its ancient burying-ground where, +five steps above the town, Aunt Isabel slept under +the dark green grass and fluttering sycamore leaves; +past genteel houses with small gardens where sunflowers +lingered with hollyhocks and dahlias still +unhurt by frost; past each familiar thing until at last, +just as the lamps in the town were being lighted, +Langford House was reached.</p> + +<p>But the cousins who received her knew nothing of +Bill’s lonely walk, nor yet of the something which +clinked in her pocket. Indeed, she herself did not +think of the last immediately; she did not think of it +until after Bella had made the remark on her regret +at leaving Wrugglesby. Bill did not speak of her +regret, and as for Polly, she had none of which to +speak. “As we have got to go some time,” she +said, “it may as well be now as later; better in fact, +for though the lease is not up till Christmas, we could +not expect to get such another chance of a house as +the one now offered.”</p> + +<p>To which wisdom Bella assented; after all, leaving +the house now did not concern her so very much, +for in any circumstances she would have had to leave +before the spring, as Jack insisted that they should +be married in February. Mrs. Dawson, though she +had at first objected to this arrangement, finally came +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>to the conclusion that since it was inevitable it might +as well be soon as late. Indeed after a time she came +to accept it with so much meekness (other people +called it pleasure) that she invited Bella to come to +Greys when Polly left Wrugglesby and stay there +till the winter set in. Therefore Bella, though she +assented to them, cannot be said to have had a very +personal interest in Polly’s plans.</p> + +<p>As for Bill, on this particular afternoon she said +nothing even with regard to the furniture, except +that in reply to Polly’s emphatic remark to the effect +that they could not take all the rubbish with them, +she said she hoped it would get a good home and be +well treated. Polly considered such sentiments +foolish in the extreme and, having said so, dismissed +the subject from her mind and remarked: “I +flatter myself that we have done very well on the +whole.”</p> + +<p>Bella agreed, but Bill corrected. “It is not we +but you who have done it. It was you who cadged +the house in London on very low terms, you who +first impressed Mrs. Dawson with the fact that we +are a nice family,—oh yes, she likes Bella for herself +now, but she began by liking you, or rather what +she takes you to be. You arranged that, just as you +arranged the contract for the repairs of this house at +the end of the lease. You are a champion cadger, +Polly, whatever else you are.”</p> + +<p>Polly was not certain whether to be pleased or +offended by this tribute. “I think you have a great +deal to thank me for,” she said complacently; “I am +glad you appreciate it, though I object to the word +<i>cadger</i>.”</p> + +<p>“What shall I say?” Bill asked, “If you don’t +cadge things what do you do? Acquire them?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>“Well, yes, perhaps I do,” Polly admitted; “yes, +I suppose I have the acquisitive faculty.”</p> + +<p>“I should say you have.”</p> + +<p>“So have you,”—Polly did not like Bill’s tone. +“I am sure you have it; people give you things and +you don’t refuse them.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed and went over to the fireplace, the +something in her pocket clinking audibly as she +moved.</p> + +<p>“What is that?” asked the inquisitive Polly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I had forgotten.” Bill put her hand into +her pocket. “It is something I brought to show +you,” she said, and drew out first a piece of crumpled +paper in which the articles had been wrapped and +then two large old-fashioned shoe-buckles.</p> + +<p>“What are they?” Polly made a pounce on one.</p> + +<p>“Where did you get them?” Bella took the +other from the table where Bill had put them. +“What are they?”</p> + +<p>They gleamed in the fading light as the cousins +held them, gleamed and shimmered with wonderful +changing splendour, flashing when the firelight +touched them and found a dozen answering tongues +of flame.</p> + +<p>“Paste,” Polly said, “old paste; they must be +worth a lot of money.”</p> + +<p>“Diamonds,” Bill corrected.</p> + +<p>“Diamonds? Nonsense! They might be worth +as much as a hundred pounds apiece if they were!”</p> + +<p>“They are diamonds,” Bill persisted, “though they +can’t be worth that. They are mine.”</p> + +<p>“Yours?” Polly almost screamed. “Diamonds—and +yours? Talk about the acquisitive faculty!”</p> + +<p>Bill flushed. “I did not acquire them,” she said +rather illogically; “at least, I hated to have them, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>and I have promised to give them to somebody as a +wedding-present, not yet, some day, when there is a +wedding. I will give them back,—I don’t care what +you say,—you need not think about selling them,—they +are not going to be sold.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk nonsense to me,” was Polly’s answer. +“If they are diamonds they shall be sold, that is, if +you have any right to them, which I am sure you +have not. They must be paste!”</p> + +<p>Bill took the buckle out of her hand, Bella placing +the fellow on the table beside it: “Are they really +diamonds?” she asked. “How did you come by +them, and whose were they?”</p> + +<p>Bill stood looking at them a moment as they +flashed in the firelight. “They were Peter Harborough’s +shoe-buckles,” she said.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIII.<br> +<small>PETER HARBOROUGH’S SHOE-BUCKLES.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Polly</span> had no doubt done wisely in sending Bill to +Ashelton while she herself was settling affairs at +Wrugglesby. Not only was she thus freed from +Bill’s interference, but also Bill had an opportunity +for putting into practice her good resolutions regarding +Gilchrist Harborough. Polly was sure she would +make use of the opportunity, for Bill could always be +relied on to keep her word. In the main she fulfilled +Polly’s expectations; she certainly tried to do so. +Theresa found her curiously subdued on her return +to Ashelton, and found also that she herself was +watched and sometimes imitated with an embarrassing +closeness. Bill was trying to be a lady.</p> + +<p>She obeyed to the letter Polly’s instructions concerning +Gilchrist, always putting on her best dress +for his coming, never calling him Theo now, never +baffling him by tantalising moods and goblin mockery +and playful defiance. Indeed so circumspect was her +behaviour that Gilchrist not unnaturally concluded +that the lecture he had given her after the affair +of the plums had taken effect. Of course he was +humanly gratified to find that his words had not been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>wasted, but it is to be feared that he found Bill in her +new character of lady, as copied from Theresa, something +of a disappointment; she did not always compare +favourably with her model.</p> + +<p>Bill did not know how her efforts impressed +Gilchrist, neither did she greatly care, for his opinion +was not her highest standard. But she was herself +by no means satisfied, and one day, soon after her +return to Ashelton, she took her difficulties to her +friend the rector. He, by right of his office and +reason of his experience, had been consulted on many +points in his time, some rather peculiar ones since his +acquaintance with Bill; but even she had never faced +him with anything quite so unexpected as on the day +when she brought him the problem of her own behaviour. +She was examining the high shelves of his +book-case at the time, standing on the back of an +arm-chair to do so, having first weighted the seat +with encyclopaedias.</p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">The Diary of a Lady</span>,” she read the title of +one of the books, then stood a moment looking at it +thoughtfully. “Monseigneur,” she said, “you know +I told you I was trying to behave better? Well, I +am not getting on a bit.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane was busy with his parish accounts; as a +rule the girl’s presence did not disturb him at all, but +now he looked up, arrested by her tone.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he asked, putting down his pen. +“What have you been doing?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing; I haven’t done anything wrong and I +do all the right things I can find to do. Theresa +thinks I am much improved, but I’m not really.” As +she reached up to replace the book, the chair tilted a +little. “Would you mind kneeling on the seat?” she +said. “The chair tips when I reach up. Thank you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span>She jumped to the ground and drawing a chair +to the writing-table faced the rector. “What is your +notion of a lady?” she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane considered a moment, before hazarding +an opinion, knowing that his answer would be taken +literally and perhaps translated into action. “One,” +he said at length, “who considers others, who never +by word or deed causes unnecessary pain, who listens +sympathetically, talks pleasantly, never says a great +deal even when she feels much or knows more. One +who does her mental and moral washing in private, +but is not afraid to do her duty in public; who +respects the secrets of others, the honour of her +family, and her own self more than all. One who +speaks with tact, acts with discretion, and places God +before fashion without needlessly advertising the fact +to the annoyance of the rest of the world.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said Bill, and a long silence followed; +perhaps she was learning the definition for her own +benefit. At last she spoke again. “You think I +could be a lady if I learned to control myself and,—and +did not run away when I wanted to, and all those +sorts of things?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane did think so; possibly he did not regard +her as so hopeless a case as did Polly. Then there +was another silence during which there came the +sound of wheels on the drive at the other side of the +house. Neither noticed it, and Bill, thinking of +Polly’s lectures on her disreputable appearance, asked +a second question. “I suppose a lady always wants +to look right? It matters very much how she looks, +how she is dressed?”</p> + +<p>“It matters very much for some,” the rector +answered; “but others—” he was only a man after +all, and though old not altogether wise—“with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>others,” he said, “you are so busy wondering what +colour their eyes are that you never notice their +gowns; so much perplexed as to what they are, +Princess Puck, that you never know what they +wear—”</p> + +<p>He broke off smiling as the housekeeper opened +the door: “A gentleman to see Miss Alardy,” she +announced.</p> + +<p>“Me?” Bill exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, miss; he has been to Haylands, he says, +and they told him you were here; he’s waiting in the +hall now,—young Mr. Harborough.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Harborough?” Bill repeated rising. “Whatever +can he want?”</p> + +<p>“Not Mr. Harborough from Crows’ Farm,” the +housekeeper explained; “young Mr. Harborough +from Wood Hall.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!—I’ll come and speak to him.”</p> + +<p>Ladies controlled themselves; they said nothing +even when they felt much; they respected themselves, +the honour of their family, the secrets of their +friends. Bill was going to be a lady, and she would +not even allow herself to feel surprised.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane took up his pen again. Old Mr. Harborough +was worse no doubt; he had been ill all the +week, and that it was a mere question of days everyone +knew. Probably it was a question of hours now, +and for that reason they had summoned the heir. +And for what reason had the heir come for Bill? If +old Mr. Harborough had a fancy for seeing her again +before he died Mr. Dane was not the man to gainsay +him. Bill knew that, the instant he came into the +hall where she stood with Kit Harborough.</p> + +<p>“Go, by all means,” was his advice, “go at once; +I will explain to Mrs. Morton.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>So Bill fetched her hat from the study where it lay +on the encyclopaedias, and without another word +drove away with Kit to Wood Hall. And Mr. Dane +had time to finish his accounts and then explain +matters to Theresa before lunch.</p> + +<p>Theresa was very much surprised to hear of Bill’s +going, but since the rector approved she was quite +willing to do the same. As the afternoon wore on +and Bill did not return, she began to wonder a little +what the girl was doing; and when in the evening +Gilchrist called and Bill was still absent, she found +the situation rather awkward. Gilchrist showed such +an unreasonable displeasure at her absence that +Theresa wished Mr. Dane could have explained to +the impatient lover the propriety and justice of Bill’s +going. To tell the truth, Gilchrist was both displeased +and anxious, for he did not feel at all sure +what Bill might be saying with regard to the Wood +Hall estate. She had told him how she had met and +warned Kit Harborough at Bymouth; and though +it is true that she had listened with commendable +humility to his natural explosion of anger, and at +the end had assured him (with the shadow of contempt +in her voice) that the heir had declined to take +advantage of the warning, what guarantee was there +that she might not, for some reason of her own, +think fit to warn the old man in time to create unnecessary +complications? Gilchrist was very uneasy +indeed, not at all sure what Bill would do.</p> + +<p>But Kit had no doubts at all. He was perfectly +sure she would say nothing; and, as certain of her as +he was of himself, he never once during the drive to +Gurnett reopened the question of the claim. He +never even mentioned it when he helped her to +alight at the great door, never spoke of it or referred +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>to it as he led her across the echoing hall to the wide +stairs and the rooms above.</p> + +<p>Old Harborough was dying, but dying elegantly, +almost as if with a subtle and unconscious recollection +of what was due to the traditions of his family. +He was powerless in body but terribly alert in mind, +keenly conscious of the situation and accepting the +inevitable with the cynicism he had shown to so many +of the happenings of his life, neither curious nor +afraid, politely indifferent, almost politely sceptical. +Bill, the many-sided, the sympathetic, felt something +like a touch of admiration for this survival of a passing +type. He, on his part, feeble as he was, still +received her with something of his former mocking +courtesy, thanked her for troubling to come to him, +apologised for the manner of her reception, and +prayed her to be seated.</p> + +<p>There was a nurse present when Bill entered the +room, a tall, quiet woman who looked curiously at +the girl. The man who had met Mr. Harborough +with the chair that April day in the woods was also +present; but he did not look curiously at Bill, either +because he thought it bad manners, or else because he +understood her claim to his master’s interest. Both +of them, however, withdrew to a more distant part of +the large room. Kit remained standing near the bed, +but Mr. Harborough took no notice of him, only +once indirectly acknowledging his presence and then +in no pleasant manner; it was when he himself +apologised to Bill for not handing her to a chair.</p> + +<p>“You must take the will for the deed,” he said, +“since I cannot do it; it is clear such trifling attentions +will not survive the old generation.”</p> + +<p>He did not look at Kit, nevertheless the lad +coloured hotly. Bill sat down, wondering a little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>how the old manners would suit the new generation; +but she did not say so and in a minute she dropped +the thought out of her mind, turning her entire +attention on Mr. Harborough. She did not find it +difficult to talk to him, though Kit was a listener, +even when the old man referred to her last visit +and the offer then made she felt little embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“Are you not sorry you did not take it?” he +asked her. “I’d have left you Wood Hall for as +long as you remained a Harborough. Pity it was +not done! It might have saved the old place; an +heiress isn’t always the only thing or the best thing +to mend a broken family.” He seemed almost to be +speaking to himself, but he addressed her directly +when he asked abruptly: “Are you not sorry you +did not take it? By this time to-morrow it would +all have been yours.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want it,” she answered him vehemently. +“I don’t want it; I would hate to have it!”</p> + +<p>“Hate to have it? Why, I thought you liked +it?”</p> + +<p>“I do, so much that I would hate to have it.”</p> + +<p>A priest had come quietly into the room, but, +seeing Mr. Harborough engaged in conversation, he +went to a distant window and opened a book he +carried. Bill recognised him at once for the same +man who had read the mass at Ashelton Church. +Mr. Harborough followed her eyes but, not being +aware that she recognised him, thought she was only +wondering as to the reason of his presence.</p> + +<p>“The last relic of the Catholic faith here,” he +explained in his weak harsh voice. “I have to be +dressed for the next world, the last of us who ever +will be. Kit is not a Catholic; he is a Purist or a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>Deist or something sincere and modern. He troubles +about his soul and his Creator like any other mental +dyspeptic, and believes something on his own account. +When I was young it was thought ill-bred to interfere +with the concerns of the Almighty, and the minding +of souls was left to those who were paid to do it. +We were not tied down by a Sunday-school morality +in those days, and we had the courage of our +convictions.”</p> + +<p>Bill nodded. “I know,” she said.</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>“By you,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“By me? What have I said to you? What do +you know?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t exactly explain,” she said doubtfully; +“only the world was different then. One can’t +measure you by the people of to-day, nor the people +of to-day by you.”</p> + +<p>He fixed her with eyes which were still keen. +“How do you know that?” he persisted.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know; I suppose I feel it.”</p> + +<p>“You are a lenient judge,” he said almost softly, +“about the most lenient judge I have ever had, +you odd child. What an odd child! I did not +know how odd the day I found you in the wood, +the day you found God in the wood; you did find +Him, did you not?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered simply. “He seemed very +close; but then I think the devil was too.”</p> + +<p>“God and the devil at your right elbow and your +left. A survival of Puritan days,—to find God in +the woods now!”</p> + +<p>The tone was not wholly mocking; there was a +touch of wistfulness in it, and Bill hearing it +answered it from the depth of her own convictions. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>“Everywhere it is beautiful one feels God,” she said +softly, “in forest and sea and sky.” She raised her +eyes and met Kit’s. He may have been guilty of a +Sunday-school morality; he certainly was guilty of a +belief, and he betrayed its existence then to one who +shared it.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Harborough did not know it; he was +not thinking of Kit at all as he lay looking curiously +at the girl. His lips moved once: “Shall see God,” +he said as if to himself, then raising his voice slightly +he asked: “Who is it that shall see God, Father +Clement?”</p> + +<p>The priest turned. “‘Blessed are the pure in +heart for they shall see God,’” he answered drawing +nearer.</p> + +<p>“The pure in heart,” Mr. Harborough repeated, +“that is it; I had forgotten. Well, little witch, you +have seen something that I, for all my years and +experience, have not; something that I—I suppose +because of those years and experience—cannot see. +But now I must ask you to go; there is a heavenly +toilet to be made. Go down and get some lunch, +but come back by-and-bye. Kit must take you; +I apologise for him beforehand.”</p> + +<p>Bill rose. “Kit does not need anyone’s apology,” +she said hotly; then she followed the young man +out of the room feeling ashamed. Kit that day was +like the Kit of Bymouth, the Kit she had met in +the lane; there did not seem such a gulf between +them as when they parted, nor yet such terrible +courtesy. They were boy and girl in the great +house together, boy and girl watching together, by +an odd chain of circumstances, for the coming of +the great shadow. They went to the solemn old +dining-room and lunched in state as Bill had once +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>lunched with Mr. Harborough. During the meal +Kit did not mention to his guest the subject which +had never really been absent from his mind since she +herself first put it there that morning on the sands at +Bymouth. A little while back he had had some talk +with a solicitor of his acquaintance, and without +betraying a personal interest in the test-case he +described, had learned the very serious position of +the man placed as he was. But he did not speak +of it to Bill then, although, in spite of the still +intangible nature of it all, he felt the shadow of this +man from the new country spread over the stately +old house, filling its most secret corners, taking +possession of its most sacred spots. And Bill, +though he did not speak of it, knew the thought +that was in her companion’s mind, and felt with him +this haunting presence.</p> + +<p>After lunch the doctor and nurse agreed in +forbidding either Kit or his guest to see the patient +before four o’clock, saying that they should be +summoned then unless some unexpected change +made their presence necessary earlier. There were +nearly two hours before them, two hours for Kit +to play host in the house which might soon pass +to another. With an effort he tried to banish the +thought from his mind as he asked Bill to come +to the library.</p> + +<p>“This is the room I like best,” he said when they +stood in the great low room where some past Harborough +had gathered a store of books. Mercifully +the later comers, not thinking them of sufficient +value to sell, had left them intact, even, indeed, +adding a volume now and then, each man according +to his taste, for there was no lack of intellect even +among the wildest of them. The September sunlight +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>slanted through the broad low windows where +weedy sunflowers and uncut trails of late-blooming +roses looked in on a big room, irregular in shape, full +of angles, with bookshelves jutting out in unexpected +places, and a silence in it which was a luxury of the +brain. The light was a warm brown gloom cast back +from book-lined shelves; the smell was the wonderful, +indescribable smell of an old library, Russia +leather, and oak shelves, and book-dust blended into +one, a perfume never to be forgotten. For, as the +rose on his mistress’s bosom to a lover, or the +breath of the clover which filled the air when he +pledged his vows, so is the smell of such a library to +the man of books, and above all, to the man who has +been reared to it, the man who has learned by +common use and childish association to love the +outside of the volumes before ever he could read them +within.</p> + +<p>Bill felt her breast heave suddenly, and a great +lump came in her throat. She had never been in +such a library before, never to her knowledge smelt +its sweet familiar smell, yet her breast heaved and +she could not speak. It was absurd, of course; +it was nothing to her, the books were not her +friends, and as an alien she could claim no kinship +with them; yet she felt for them, felt so that she +could not speak. As for Kit, he had followed her +into the room and stretched out a hand to set +straight a book on a lower shelf, but he did not +touch it; his hand dropped and he turned abruptly +to a window, and for a long minute both stood +silent, not regarding one another. Then Bill +mastered herself with an effort.</p> + +<p>“What is this?” she asked, taking a book at +random.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>It was Sir Thomas Brown’s <span class="smcap">Vulgar Errors</span>, an +old folio edition with wonderful woodcuts. Kit +looked at it for a moment, though he knew it +well enough, and then recovering himself he told +her. They took the book to the broad window-sill +and together turned its pages, looking at the curious +pictures. After that he took down another book +and then another; Bill was sitting on the window-sill +now, the books piled beside her, while Kit drew +a great wooden chair in front. In this way he +showed her a Chaucer massively bound and clamped +with brass, a Pope of 1717, a <span class="smcap">Pilgrim’s Progress</span> +grotesquely illustrated,—the books he loved, wonderful +old German prints, poets of a later date, and +stout old sermon-writers with whose solid works he +had built houses in childish days.</p> + +<p>So the afternoon passed with strange pleasure to +both, though neither quite forgot the shadow that +hung over the house, nor the even deeper shadow not +only of death, that brooded over the library and in +some unexplained way touched every book they +looked at and every passage they read. Once Kit +took down a Milton, old and shabby and unopened, +except by himself, for many years, and began to +read a passage from <span class="smcap">Il Penseroso</span>.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Oft on a plat of rising ground</div> +<div class="verse">I hear the far-off curfew sound,</div> +<div class="verse">Over some well watered shore,</div> +<div class="verse">Swinging slow—”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>He stopped abruptly; each heard the curfew as on +that night, each smelt the scent of the wet grass in +the lane. There was a pause when neither looked at +the other; then he went on hurriedly, a little lower +down the page:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span></p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="first">“Some still removèd place will fit,</div> +<div class="verse">Where glowing embers through the room</div> +<div class="verse">Teach light to counterfeit a gloom—”</div> +</div></div> + +<p>Kit shut the book sharply and gave it up. All +round him lay the heaped up volumes as they used +to lie on the winter afternoons when he had built +towers with the works of the divines in that same +glowing gloom. He glanced at the wide fireplace; +Bill had glanced at it before him, because she too had +thought of it, though she had never seen it when the +fire burned low at twilight. So they each looked, +and then each looked at the other and neither, for all +their resolutions, hid the thought nor pretended to +hide it. Bill’s throat began to swell again. A +volume of Hooker, balanced on the window-sill, fell +with a thud to the floor. Kit took a long time in +picking it up, and when at last he put it in a place of +safety with Marcus Aurelius on the top, he said: +“He would love the books.”</p> + +<p>It was perfectly unnecessary to explain who <i>he</i> was; +Bill knew and thought of Gilchrist’s tastes and bookshelf +before she answered: “Yes, I think he would.” +She picked up the <span class="smcap">Meditations</span>. “He has got +this,” she said; “his is in English, though, bound in +green cloth, and cost one and sixpence. I believe he +would like his own edition better; it is cheaper and +clearer.”</p> + +<p>Kit silently took the imperial philosopher from the +girl’s hand, as she got down from the window-seat +and helped him to put the books back in their places. +Neither spoke of Gilchrist again; and a little later +someone came to fetch them to Mr. Harborough.</p> + +<p>They went up-stairs together and quietly into the +old man’s room. Bill noticed a difference directly +she entered; she needed no one to tell her that she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>had been called to say good-bye to the eccentric old +man she had so little known.</p> + +<p>“Come here,” he said hoarsely when he saw her +hesitate near the door.</p> + +<p>She came and stood close to him, Kit standing on +the other side of the bed.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a keepsake for you,” he whispered, trying +to raise his nerveless hand. “I give it you in the +presence of witnesses,” he glanced at the nurse as he +spoke, “so there will be no dispute afterwards. It +is not an heirloom, and I can do with it as I like. +Put your hand on mine, take it, here.”</p> + +<p>Bill put her hand in his as requested and the cold +powerless fingers beneath her warm touch fumbled +feebly before the two glittering buckles fell into her +hand.</p> + +<p>“There,” he said triumphantly, “they are for you; +that is, if you will do me the favour of accepting +them.”</p> + +<p>“For me?” she said gazing half bewildered, half +fascinated by the brilliancy of the stones.</p> + +<p>“Yes, for you,” Mr. Harborough told her. +“They are yours now, the gift is witnessed,” he +went on, for she hardly seemed to realise the fact. +Then she stooped and kissed the hand that gave +them.</p> + +<p>“They were Peter Harborough’s shoe-buckles,” +he whispered, “about the only thing he did not lose +at cards; he lost everything else even including—” +there was a little cough for breath—“including his +life. My father left them to me; they are my own; +I can do with them as I like, and I like to give them +to you. They are all the diamonds we have now +and,” addressing Kit with a sudden access of spite, +“no wife of yours can have them now.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span>Bill dropped the buckles as if they had burnt her; +they fell with a clink on the counterpane and lay +there, a sparkle of light. “I can’t take them,” she +said. “I won’t have them; you—you don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>Kit leaned across and, picking them up, gently gave +the buckles back to her. He did not speak, but there +was something in his manner she could not resist.</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” the old man muttered as if he +had not fully understood. “They are yours, +little witch; he can’t take them; I have given them +to you.”</p> + +<p>Bill grasped them in silence, pressing the sharp +stones into her flesh.</p> + +<p>“Now good-bye,” Harborough said more clearly, +“good-bye, or shall we say <i>au revoir</i>?” His breath +failed him for a moment but he recovered himself +and went on cynically, “I have to go through with +this business, and being new to it I may bungle. In +case I do not die decently I would rather not disgrace +myself in the presence of a lady.”</p> + +<p>So Bill said good-bye and went out. Kit opened +the door for her, and shutting it after her, left her +standing alone outside. So she stood a moment, +like one in a dream, the diamonds still pressed into +her flesh; then she turned and went with slow steps +down the stairs, with quickening steps across the hall +to the open door, and so out into the garden where +the afternoon shadows were long and the tender +warmth of September lay over everything. She +followed the terraced path awhile, and then, her steps +still quickening, crossed the lawn where the grass +was emerald green and the elm leaves lay scattered +here and there. She was almost running now, quite +running when she came to the shrubbery, running at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>full speed, running blindly, wildly, faster and faster +until she reached the wood and flung herself down in +the waist-deep bracken and sobbed as if her heart +would break.</p> + +<p>It was much later when Kit found her, knowing +perhaps where to look for her. She had told him of +her first ramble in the wood; at any rate when all +was over, he found her under the yellowing beeches +half hidden among the ferns. She started when she +heard his step beside her, and at first was minded to +pretend she had not been crying and practise a +belated self-control. But she did not, chiefly because +he did not pretend; he made no pretence of anything, +nor yet behaved in the manner expected of him and +worthy of his breeding. He sat down beside her +without speaking, whereupon she obstinately buried +her face in the bracken and would not so much as +look up though the stiff fern-stalks pricked her neck. +She moved her head uneasily and he gently broke a +stalk away; in doing so his hand came in contact +with her hair, a little curl of which, having become +loosened, had contrived to get wet with tears. The +contact with it, and the recognition that it was wet +with tears, were things Kit did not soon forget; but +he drew his hand away and only said stupidly: +“Don’t cry, please don’t cry; I didn’t know you +cared about him like that.”</p> + +<p>“He was good to me”—Bill’s voice was muffled +by the ferns—“but it isn’t exactly that.”</p> + +<p>He had not been good to Kit, yet Kit felt vaguely +grieved and shocked by his death; he looked in +some perplexity at the girl beside him. “What is +it then?” he asked, but she did not answer, so he +fell back on his first remark and entreated her not to +cry any more.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span>“I shall,” she answered without looking up. “I +have not cried half enough yet,—there are so many +things.—I haven’t nearly done.”</p> + +<p>Kit glanced rather hopelessly at the half-buried +figure. “Are you going to cry for them in order?” +he asked attempting to smile.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Bill, with the sunny lights coming +back to her eyes, sat up, rustling the dead leaves as +she did so. “I wonder if the wood will be cut +down,” she said wistfully, as she glanced up at the +interwoven branches above her.</p> + +<p>“No,” Kit told her, “for neither you nor I would +allow it.”</p> + +<p>“I?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; if it is not mine it will be yours, or as good +as yours.”</p> + +<p>“Mine?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; if it is Theo’s—you said you were going to +marry him—it will be yours too, and I am glad.”</p> + +<p>“Glad! I am not.”</p> + +<p>Her voice was passionate, almost vindictive, and +Kit went on quickly: “I am glad, and you ought to +be too. You said once that, were you in my place, +you would do anything to get Wood Hall; surely +you ought not to mind if you have it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not in your place,” Bill said, “and I don’t +want it a bit. Do anything to get it! A woman +can’t do anything but be married. I don’t want +Theo to have it, and I don’t want to come here.”</p> + +<p>She buried her face in the ferns again, but now she +did not cry. Kit broke the stiff fern-stalk into little +pieces, and as he threw them away caught sight of +the buckles shining among the ferns near the girl’s +arm. Bill heard them clink as he picked them up, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>and sat up again, facing him now with a calm determination. +“I am not going to have them,” she said +quietly.</p> + +<p>“You must; you can’t help yourself. They were +given to you, and you must have them,” and he +dropped them into her lap.</p> + +<p>“I am not going to have them,” she repeated; +“had he known, he would not have given them +to me.”</p> + +<p>“No, because very probably they would have +come to you in any case; I don’t know how such +things go, but it is likely they would have come to +you. At all events they are yours beyond dispute +now.”</p> + +<p>“Mine, not my husband’s?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, yours absolutely.”</p> + +<p>“Mine to do with as I like?” The sense of +ownership seemed to please the girl. Kit wondered +why a little, but he did not ask and her next words +explained. “Then I can give them to whom I +please? I shall give them to your wife on her +wedding-day.”</p> + +<p>Bill put the rejected buckles in her pocket, but +Kit said quietly: “That you will never do, for I +shall never marry.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIV.<br> +<small>THE COURTSHIP OF HARBOROUGH OF BYBRIDGE.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Polly</span> said it was quite unnecessary for Bill to go to +old Mr. Harborough’s funeral, though the wish to +do so showed a nice feeling on her part; and since +she did wish it (and had a black dress) there really +was no reason why she should not go, more especially +as she was leaving for London the next day and +would thus escape Miss Minchin’s cross-questioning. +But Gilchrist had other opinions; he strongly disapproved +of Bill’s going, seeing no reason for it and +a great many against it. He himself had never +claimed any connection with the Harboroughs during +the old man’s life and did not intend to do so at his +death, except through the medium of the law. He +said he should consider it an impertinence on his +own part to go to the funeral. Bill agreed with him +as to the propriety of his staying away, but persisted +in going herself. Gilchrist became really angry, and +told her it was absurd to go simply because Mr. +Harborough had given her the diamond shoe-buckles; +people who did not know the circumstances +might put another construction on her actions. Bill +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>said she did not mind that, and also that the shoe-buckles +were only part of her reason for going.</p> + +<p>“What other reason is there?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I want to speak—” she began and then broke +off. “Oh, I can’t tell you,” she said impatiently. +“I don’t mind your knowing if only I had not the +bother of explaining; as it is, I really can’t go into +it. You say so much about things, ask so many +questions, see so many motives, and foresee so many +consequences, that I really shall be obliged to give +up telling you. I don’t mind your knowing, and +up till now I have told you things; but I am +afraid I shall have to begin taking you in to save +trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know what you are saying?” was the +beginning of Gilchrist’s not unnaturally severe +answer: the end was less pacific. However, there +was no quarrel between them, but he was exceedingly +angry with her sayings then, and even more so with +her doings later on, for she went to the funeral in +spite of him. It was not easy to quarrel with Bill, +as she did not retaliate and did not mind; but also, +as Polly knew, she could not be moved, quietly +taking her own course unless you could convince her +it was wrong; “and Gilchrist can’t convince her,” +Polly said after the affair of the funeral. She herself +advised Bill not to go when she found how strong +was Gilchrist’s opposition; but it did not make the +slightest difference. Bill had promised Kit she would +go, and she went.</p> + +<p>It was soon after five on the afternoon when old +Mr. Harborough died that Kit found the girl in the +wood; yet it was nearly nine when she reached +Haylands. The intervening time was not entirely +occupied in the drive home, nor yet in the conversation +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span>concerning the reason for Bill’s tears. Most of +that conversation was carried on while she was half +buried in the ferns; but there was another and a +longer one when she faced the facts of the case in +the old library. Indeed, after a while her position +and Kit’s were to a certain extent reversed; it was +she who comforted and planned, arraying the future +in its best colours, he who at first declined to see +hope anywhere, even though he faced that future +with much apparent indifference.</p> + +<p>Truly, as Bill was forced to admit, the future did +not look promising. Both from what she had learned +from Gilchrist—and she had made many inquiries +of late—and from what Kit had heard from the +solicitor and confided to her now, she could not help +seeing that the case looked bad against him. Even +if a will existed—and Kit seemed to think that by +no means likely—it would do little more than complicate +the case without giving him a title to the +estates, unless he could make good his uncle’s title +first. He told her all he knew about it, and she +returned the compliment; but they cannot be said +to have advanced matters very much or come to any +resolution. Of course, Kit was going to win the +lawsuit,—that was a foregone conclusion—but Bill, +whose universe was always constructed with a convenient +back door for use when foregone conclusions +failed, strongly recommended him to consider how +he would stand if the impossible were to happen. +And it must be admitted that, if the catastrophe +really took place, he would not stand very well, for +with Wood Hall and all it entailed gone there was +not a great deal left; briefly, a hundred a year +inherited from his mother, a liberal education and +studious tastes which together had enabled him to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>take a good classical degree at Oxford in the previous +summer, and had further allowed him to study +modern languages and literature with rather more +than usual thoroughness. These, besides youth and +health, were the only passably serviceable possessions +he could claim. There was a taste for writing poetry +and an aptitude for translating Greek verse, but +neither was any use; there were several other tastes +which were no use, and yet others which were +positively detrimental.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid you would find it awfully hard,” Bill +said once. She felt a compassion which was almost +motherly for him in his ignorance of the shifts and +turns of the genteel poverty in which she had been +reared.</p> + +<p>“No harder than other people,” he answered +rather curtly.</p> + +<p>Bill knew better. A hundred a year would have +been wealth to her and Polly; sixty between Bella +and Theresa seemed almost a fortune; however, she +did not say so, but talked of small privations instead.</p> + +<p>“You would not be able to have a clean shirt +every day,” she said, and Kit winced at the mention +of such sordid trifles. “Washing costs such a lot,” +the girl went on; “besides it wears things out. You +would not be able to have an evening paper if you +had a morning one, and you certainly would not be +able to have many new books; you would have to +have your boots mended over and over again, and +think what tips you would give the porters. Saving +in big things is not so hard; it is the little things you +would hate, filing the edges,—you have to file the +edges when you are making money or saving it either—it +would set your teeth on edge horribly, I’m afraid.”</p> + +<p>“Not more than it does yours,” Kit retorted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span>But Bill did not agree with him. “It does not +hurt me,” she said; “I’m used to it and my people +have been used to it; we have been poor long +enough not to mind about these things. Besides, +I love work; I don’t care much what it is; I like to +do things, and I don’t care what I do. I am afraid, +too, I am not so very refined; things that would +hurt you don’t hurt me; I don’t believe I have +got very ladylike tastes.”</p> + +<p>But Kit turned on her here: in his opinion she +was the most perfect lady living, not even she herself +should question it in his hearing; and for a time the +conversation became personal, but eventually it returned +to the original subject. Bill learned a good +deal of Kit’s history that day,—of his mother, dead +rather more than a year, but beloved and tenderly +revered, as indeed she deserved to be seeing that he +owed to her all the better part of himself,—of the +quiet life at Bybridge, the red Queen Anne house, +with the walled garden, the pleasant homecomings +there to the widowed mother,—the student’s days at +Oxford, the travels in continental cities, tales of +times and sights which fired Bill’s ready imagination +and set her gipsy blood aflame to be free to wander +and to see and learn. In their interest in these tales +both listener and narrator almost forgot the graver +matters before them. But there were other things, +memories of still earlier days which brought them +back, the recollection of boyish days spent at Wood +Hall, holidays when the parents were abroad and +silently and unconsciously there grew in the young +mind that love of the old place which is as an entail +binding one generation to the next.</p> + +<p>Bill listened greedily, forgetting all about home +and Gilchrist who was waiting for her there. At +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>last, however, she did remember and somewhat +hastily departed, feeling that in this talk of the past +they had rather neglected considerations of the +future. Before she went she promised she would +come to the funeral, partly to remedy the omission +of that evening and partly to do honour to the +old man who would not have many real mourners.</p> + +<p>In one respect, however, Bill made something of +a mistake, for she had that day without knowing +it helped Kit Harborough for the future. Unconsciously +she had preached to him the gospel +which was so completely incorporated into her own +nature that she did not even know she believed +it,—the gospel of work;—the delight and satisfaction +in work for its own sake irrespective of kind or +place, just doing for the sake of doing, and doing +now, not waiting the time and opportunity for a +great work, but setting to at once on the nearest +thing that offered. Not lamenting because the +beautiful edifice of faith or hope has tottered and +fallen, but taking, instead, stones from the ruin +to build a shelter while the plans for some greater +work are maturing.</p> + +<p>Bill did not think these things; she did not even +know she believed them; only she unconsciously +translated them into action, and as unconsciously, +by her words and by her attitude of mind, preached +them to Kit.</p> + +<p>She went to the funeral and stood respectfully on +the outskirts of the group which gathered in the +little churchyard in Wood Hall park. She did not +attach herself to the party, feeling herself an alien, +but Kit, who as recognised heir was chief mourner, +saw her though he could not come to her till a good +deal later in the afternoon. She had said she would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span>wait for him among the beeches, and she did wait, +for a time almost forgetting him in the exquisite +perfection of the silent October wood. When at +last he came they finished the conversation begun the +other day, and they did not hurry over it unduly. +Bill knew that Gilchrist and the cousins would +be angry with her late return, but so angry that +half an hour one way or the other would make +no difference.</p> + +<p>Before the interrupted conversation was resumed +Kit told her a piece of news which at first seemed of +great importance to her, though afterwards she was +obliged to agree with him in not attaching too much +value to it. It appeared that old Mr. Harborough +had made a will after all, and by the terms of it Kit +would, were it not for the Australian, succeed to the +property exactly as he used to anticipate.</p> + +<p>Bill clasped her hands with excitement. “Oh, +I am so glad,” she said.</p> + +<p>“So am I, although I don’t think it will make +much difference to the case.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t?”</p> + +<p>He shook his head but repeated that he was glad, +and there was a few moments’ silence before Bill said +softly: “I am so glad you did not speak about +the will; it has happened without your speaking; +you were right and I was wrong.”</p> + +<p>Kit did not agree with her there, thinking they +had been of one mind on the subject of the will: +but they did not discuss the point at length, turning +instead to the consideration of Kit’s future, should +the case be decided against him.</p> + +<p>Doubtless if this really occurred his friends and +relations would find or do something for him but +he and Bill planned, curiously though practically, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>without considering the relations at all. Bill’s plans +seldom depended on outside help, and usually, however +absurd, had the merit of being such that they +could start working at once. She was rather anxious +that Kit should start at once, for, as she said, if +he could earn anything the money would be no +disadvantage should the case go in his favour, and a +decided advantage should it go against him. The +only difficulty was, to find anything he could do +in his present circumstances and with his modest +talents.</p> + +<p>“You could teach,” Bill said doubtfully, having +but a poor opinion of that refuge of the destitute; +“with your degree you could get a mastership, but +then I suppose your people would not like it; +besides it would be rather awkward for other reasons. +You might get some translating to do, as you know +languages pretty well. I believe it is awfully hard to +get, and not well paid; still it would be better than +nothing, and if it is really so difficult to get, it would +be just as well to see after it before the need comes; +you would be ready then if it did come. You said +it might take as long as two years to settle about +Wood Hall? In two years you ought to be able to +get a little translating, I should think.”</p> + +<p>Kit thought so too, and they talked over ways +and means, he telling her sundry youthful dreams, +she listening with admiring sympathy not untouched +with practical common-sense. Eventually he did make +a start as she suggested, and finding, as they feared, +that such work as he could do was almost impossible +to obtain, he turned, till it came, to one of the youthful +dreams and translated some of the lesser known +dialogues of Lucian into scholarly English. And +though even his inexperience could not but tell him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>that the work, when done, would not be a marketable +commodity, the doing of it was a great satisfaction +to him. Later, through the good offices of a college +friend, he got a German book on botany to translate, +and very uninteresting work he found it. Nevertheless, +because it was the first work he had ever been +paid for, he was pleased with it, and so pleased with +the small sum he received for it that he invested the +whole in a large crystal of rough amethyst, remembering +how rapturous Bill had been in her admiration of +the small crystal he had shown her in the collection +of such specimens at Wood Hall. When, however, +it came to the point of sending his crystal to the girl +his courage failed; afraid of displeasing her he put +the amethyst away, and no one knew of its existence +for a long time.</p> + +<p>But all this happened later and had no part in the +conversation on that October afternoon. It must be +admitted, however, that if the conversation had +entirely confined itself to plans for the future, Bill +would have reached home earlier than she did. Some +chance reference to the shoe-buckles and the value +Polly put upon them brought Peter Harborough to +her mind, and with him the recollection of the gravestone +at Sandover and its record of his tragic death. +Who Peter Harborough was, and how he died, were +questions which perplexed her on the Sunday afternoon +when she saw his grave; they returned to her +with redoubled interest now that his buckles had +come into her possession; and she sought information +of Kit.</p> + +<p>He could tell her little more than that the man was +the younger brother of old Mr. Harborough’s grandfather, +and as such should have succeeded to the +property if death had not intervened. “He was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>great friends with the Corbys; it was at Corby Dean +he was shot,” Kit concluded.</p> + +<p>“I know, but who shot him? Was it one of the +Corbys, or did he do it himself?”</p> + +<p>“No one knows, but his brother apparently was +satisfied that it was all right; he asked no questions, +took the property, and said nothing.”</p> + +<p>Bill pondered the matter for a minute. “Which +Corby was it?” she asked. “I mean with which +one was he friendly and played cards? What +relation was he to Roger Corby, the old Squire?”</p> + +<p>“It was Roger Corby himself,” Kit told her; +“Roger, the last of them.”</p> + +<p>“Roger Corby, himself,” Bill repeated. It was +curious how she seemed to stumble upon fragments +of this man’s history. She tried vainly to piece out +his life, but she had so little to go on. At length she +said: “But he was not the last of them; he had a +granddaughter who outlived him.”</p> + +<p>“She can hardly be counted.”</p> + +<p>“But why? I suppose she could have taken the +property if there was any, even if she did marry and +change her name.”</p> + +<p>“There was nothing to take; in fact the old +squire was so much in debt at his death that, +although they sold all that was left of the property, +it was little more than enough to pay everything off. +Of course there was not much to sell then; there +was little about here; Corby Dean, the house near +Bybridge, was heavily mortgaged and nearly tumbling +down, and most of the land near Sandover and Bybridge +had already been disposed of.”</p> + +<p>“You mean where Sandover now stands? It +belongs to Mr. Briant now, doesn’t it? By the way, +you must have been staying with him at Bymouth, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>for you were staying at the River House and that is +where he lives. Polly found out; she always asks +about the people who live in the big houses.”</p> + +<p>Kit said he had been staying with Mr. Briant and +added: “It was the grandfather of that man who +first had the land from Roger Corby. It was not +worth much then, the present owner being the one +who has developed it so tremendously; still even at +that time it was a good lot for a man with the old +squire’s income to give to his steward.”</p> + +<p>“His steward? Was Mr. Briant’s grandfather +Roger Corby’s steward?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; steward or bailiff or something of the sort; +at least he was at one time, but he left his service +and went abroad, I think soon after Peter Harborough +was shot.”</p> + +<p>Bill considered the matter a moment. “And +Roger gave him the land?” she asked at length.</p> + +<p>“Something very like it; he granted it to him +absolutely, subject only to some nominal rental payable +if demanded, and that practically amounts to a +gift, at least to the first owner if not to his children.”</p> + +<p>“Roger Corby must have had some reason,” Bill +said with conviction.</p> + +<p>Kit agreed with her, though he could not say for +certain what it may have been. “Briant was steward +at Corby Dean when Peter Harborough was shot,” +he said; “that may have had something to do with +it. But whether he knew something about it and +threatened to speak, or whether he did not know and +only threatened to make a charge which Roger Corby +could not disprove because of the secrecy of the +affair I could never find out. Of course it is all very +long ago now, and people do not seem to take much +interest in such things as a rule.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>This was said almost apologetically, as if the +speaker were ashamed of his own interest; but he +need not have apologised to Bill, who was herself +more fascinated by these tales of the past than he +was.</p> + +<p>“It was an awful lot to give,” she said at last, +“but I suppose he had no choice. I wonder why he +put in the nominal rental; has it ever been demanded, +do you know?”</p> + +<p>“I should not think so; there has been no one to +demand it. I expect that it was put in so that it +might be possible for the Corbys eventually to recover +the land at the end of the time for which it was +granted. But it does not matter much now, for there +are no more Corbys.”</p> + +<p>“But the granddaughter,” Bill asked, “what +became of her? Did she not marry and have +children?”</p> + +<p>“She married but had no children; I don’t think +anybody knows what became of her.”</p> + +<p>“Did she run away?” Bill thought it just possible, +considering what was told of her childhood, that this +last of the Corbys might have run away if her fate +demanded that solution of a difficulty.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is it,” Kit said; “she ran away from her +husband. I don’t know the name of the man she +went with, but they say she was never very fond of +her husband, and I should think she must have been +rather difficult to deal with; my uncle knew her, and +he always spoke as if she were. The man she +married was younger than she, a clergyman—but you +know him, I expect you know all this; at least you +must have heard something of Mr. Dane’s wife?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Dane!” Bill exclaimed, her eyes growing +wide. “Was she his wife? His wife—and he would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>have loved her so! Oh, Monseigneur, poor Monseigneur,” +and her voice took the almost tender wail +of a primitive woman who mourns her loved ones.</p> + +<p>“Did you not know?” Kit asked, trying to remember +if she had expressed pity for his troubles in +that tone.</p> + +<p>She shook her head. “I knew he had been +married,” she said, “though people at Ashelton +usually speak as if he had not; perhaps they don’t +know. He never speaks about his wife, so I thought +she must have died very long ago.”</p> + +<p>“She did, or rather she left him long ago, forty +years or more. I am surprised you did not know, +though now I come to think of it, people about here +hardly would; it did not happen here, and Mr. +Dane did not come to Ashelton till some time afterwards. +Wilhelmina Corby had not lived here since +she was quite a young girl, and there was nothing to +connect Mr. Dane with her in people’s minds.”</p> + +<p>“Was her name Wilhelmina? Then I wonder he +puts up with me! I am Wilhelmina; he ought to +hate me. He ought to do that for several things; I +asked him something yesterday I would never have +asked had I known this.”</p> + +<p>“What was it? Will you tell me?”</p> + +<p>Bill hesitated a moment before she said: “Yes, if +you like. I asked him what he did when things +went utterly wrong with his life, when”—the girl’s +tone had taken a passionate ring as if the occasion +were not entirely impersonal—“when he felt like +Job’s wife and wanted to curse God and die because +things were so hopelessly, incurably wrong.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you ask?”</p> + +<p>The words were uttered almost before Kit knew +what he said. When they were once spoken, he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>would sooner have bitten his tongue through than +that they should have been said.</p> + +<p>She sat silent for a long moment pulling the fern +to pieces in her hands; when at last she did speak it +was to repeat to him, with a curious quietness, Mr. +Dane’s words to herself.</p> + +<p>“He said,” so she told him, “on such a day as +you speak of I shut a door in my mind and went +away without speaking or looking back; afterwards I +played cricket at the school-treat, and I think I +played as well as usual.”</p> + +<p>That was all she said; after she had spoken there +was a great silence in the yellow wood, except when +the beech-nuts fell pattering on the dead leaves, and +the robins, the year’s grandchildren, sang shrill and +sweet in the branches.</p> + +<p>At last she spoke again, scarcely above a whisper +now: “I think I am going to try to do that.”</p> + +<p>Kit turned and faced her; there was a faint flush +on his cheek, but his eyes met hers unflinchingly—“And +I too,” he said; and then they walked on in +silence.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXV.<br> +<small>GENERAL SERVANT.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is an old saying, and doubtless a good one, that +two is company and three none; yet the presence of +a third person who stands somewhat apart from the +other two is frequently a great assistance to domestic +happiness and a great preventive of domestic friction. +Polly took Bill to London during the first week in +October and Theresa missed her at every turn. +There was no one to play bézique with Robert in the +long dull evenings; Theresa hated cards, and though +she tried to play from a sense of duty her skill was +so small that her efforts were a failure. There was +no one to talk and amuse him when he came in at +odd times; Theresa was somewhat silent by nature, +and she did not seem to have grasped the details of +his work. She could not remember the points of his +horses or the names of his dogs; it all came natural +to Bill who, Theresa reflected, had less on her mind +and so of course might be expected to remember +better. She missed the girl herself, too, in the dairy +and store-room, in the house and orchard and garden. +She missed her when the late apples fell, and when +the dead leaves gathered thick in the garden; she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>missed the all-pervading sunshine of her nature, and +she missed the regular visits Gilchrist Harborough +used to pay on Bill’s account.</p> + +<p>Of course she had nothing but the most impersonal +interest in Gilchrist,—no one, not even Polly had +suggested otherwise, though Theresa flushed as she +remembered what Polly had suggested—still it was +pleasanter when he used to come. If Bill had been +here he would have come to-night; it was one of his +evenings. Robert had gone to a political meeting at +Wrugglesby and would not be home till late, and +Theresa sighed a little, to think of the weary number +of hours before her. She wondered a little, over her +sewing, if Gilchrist had gone too.</p> + +<p>But Gilchrist had not gone to the political meeting; +he did not even know Robert had gone, for he came +to Haylands that evening to speak to him, and +finding he was not at home, came in to leave a +message with Theresa. She was sincerely glad to see +him, and he, to judge from his manner, was sincerely +glad to be there again. To tell the truth he too +missed those pleasant evenings at Haylands, the refinement +and indescribable femininity of the house +appealing to him in a way that surprised even +himself.</p> + +<p>“One needs a woman about a place,” he reflected +that evening when he went once more to the house +and found that though Bill was gone, the femininity +remained,—flowers, needlework, delicate womanly +atmosphere, all as before, all as attractive. It must +be admitted that he did not expect otherwise, for to +him Bill did not suggest such things; she could +arrange flowers as well as grow them, and she often +sat at needlework when he saw her, sewing very +strongly, very intently; yet to him there was something +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>unfeminine in the very energy with which she +did the smallest things. Theresa,—he did not think +much about Theresa, except to decide that it was an +advantage to be sure what a woman meant, and +sometimes what she thought, advantages he did not +feel he possessed with regard to Bill.</p> + +<p>She, it is true, had been surprisingly docile of late, +but her docility was flat and uninteresting, and there +was besides an uneasy feeling in Gilchrist’s mind that +he did not know what lay behind. He did not feel +that he had grasped Bill at all. He had been exceedingly +angry on the occasion of Mr. Harborough’s +funeral, and there had followed an interview with +Bill which should have been stormy. It was not, +however; Bill was truly sorry for having annoyed +him so much, confessed her sins, and promised more +respect for his wishes in future. She was honestly +trying to do her duty now, and to behave in the way +she ought. Gilchrist did not altogether believe in +her repentance, which was perhaps not unnatural; +and when she confessed herself wrong, he agreed +with her and accepted her self-accusations as a matter +of course. It is sometimes a pity to accept another’s +self-accusations so readily; just it may be, but it is +not always encouraging. Fortunately it mattered +less to Bill than to most people and peace was +patched up between them, though things were not +perhaps in the most satisfactory state when she left +for London. Had the engagement not rested on +something more reliable than mutual affection it +would hardly have been wise of Polly to take the +girl to London, for in spite of her faults, she had a +species of fascination for Gilchrist when she was +present, and when she was absent there was Theresa +to consider.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span>However, about that time Gilchrist did not give +much attention to either Theresa or Bill, for the +opening of the Harborough lawsuit occupied most of +his thoughts. It also occupied the thoughts of his +neighbours, and was looked upon as a matter of +tremendous local interest; Ashelton even split into +factions over the question of the justice or injustice +of the claim, of which, by the way, very little was +generally known. Mr. Stevens was much pressed +for information, or at least for his opinion as to the +probable issue, but though he had no professional +connection with either party he maintained a discreet +silence. He once went so far as to say that a lot of +good money would be wasted by two young men who +could ill afford it, and that without knowing a great +deal more than he now knew he should be sorry to +bet on either. This discreet opinion was more +moderate than those held by most of his neighbours.</p> + +<p>Theresa knew little more than the rest of the +village on the great subject of the Harborough +claim, for Gilchrist had not had time to explain it to +her since the case opened, and before that time he +had thought it wiser to keep silence even with +members of Bill’s family.</p> + +<p>“Not that I minded you knowing,” he said to +Theresa the night Robert went to the political +meeting. “I had not the least objection to that, +only I was afraid if Bill told you she would also tell +Miss Hains, and she, you know, is perhaps not +quite so discreet. I am sure she would not mean to +betray a confidence, but she talks a good deal, and +people who do that often say more than they intend.”</p> + +<p>In this he scarcely did Polly justice, for though she +might betray a secret it was not by accident or through +foolishness. But Theresa said she understood, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span>led him to talk of his chances of success. He was +very cautious and would not commit himself at all, +but she persisted in speaking as if a favourable issue +were certain.</p> + +<p>“Fancy little Bill mistress of such a place as Wood +Hall!” she said, when at last she had in her own +mind brought all to a satisfactory conclusion. She +was evidently delighted with the idea, but this particular +side of the termination was exactly what +Gilchrist did not fancy; however, he only replied to +Theresa by saying with a smile: “Things have not +quite reached that point yet, and I almost doubt if +Bill expects them to do so; she hardly seems to +quite realise what the position would be if they +did.”</p> + +<p>“I expect not. She little thought when once or +twice she went to see old Mr. Harborough that she +herself might one day live at Wood Hall. It will +take her a long time to get used to the idea; she is +such a child.”</p> + +<p>That was not her worst complaint in Gilchrist’s +eyes, but he only said, “Time will cure that.”</p> + +<p>It was just then that there came the sound of a +stumble in the passage. Theresa started from her +chair. “I did not hear Robert’s horse,” she exclaimed. +“I—you—I’m afraid—”</p> + +<p>Gilchrist had heard that heavy stumble, that +muttered oath before; he had reached the door as +soon as she and put out his hand to open it first.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid Robert is not well;” she faced him +unflinchingly with the lie. “Will you excuse me? +I must go to him—good-night;” and she passed out +leaving him alone.</p> + +<p>Bill had been right; she had found him out, and +she stood between him and all the world, hiding his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span>fall with her pitiful little pretence. And he—Gilchrist +ground his teeth in impotent rage as he walked +home through the darkness that night—what was he +to receive such loyalty, such service!</p> + +<p>It was perhaps fortunate for Gilchrist Harborough +that he had a good deal to think of just now; the +lawsuit absorbed a large proportion of his time and +interests, and it was just as well that it did, for, +although it prevented him from paying much attention +to Bill, it also prevented him from paying much to +other subjects which were better let alone. After +the evening when he saw Theresa he devoted himself +more assiduously than ever to the matter of the suit, +and so really absorbing did he find it that, though he +was in town pretty often that autumn, he was not +once able to spare an hour to go to Bayswater to see +Bill. However, about the beginning of December +he fancied he should be able to manage it, and wrote +to tell her that he hoped to come.</p> + +<p>Bill and Polly had been well established now for +some time, for they did not take long settling down, +though the process had not been all that Polly had +anticipated. If the truth must be known, her position +now was not altogether unlike that of the old magician +who, having raised a spirit to help him in his schemes, +finds the obliging goblin to be of such unexpected +magnitude that it proves not only embarrassing but +likely to constitute itself master instead of servant. +Polly’s spirit, very obliging, very hard-working and +even-tempered, presented one serious drawback,—it +would rule. It was useless for Polly to attempt any +of the little shifts dear to her heart; Bill, who knew +her, was equal to them all, and forestalled her in the +pleasantest but completest way possible. Once or +twice at the beginning of the partnership Polly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span>threatened to turn her all too active partner out, but +she never did it. Probably she never seriously +thought of it, for Bill was very useful; there was +no need to employ a girl with Bill in the house, no +need to have either a boot-boy or a charwoman; no +need for Polly herself to do more than a very +moderate share of the work. Bill also got on well +with the lodgers and with the tradespeople, and, +when once they two had got to understand their +relative positions, excellently well with Polly herself.</p> + +<p>Bill had altered in several ways besides in this +development of the ruling spirit. Polly found her +quieter than she used to be, on the whole more a +woman and less a child, though she occasionally lapsed +into her old ways. She had shut a door in her mind, +and was trying hard to do well the thing which +came next. It was easy enough when it was housework +or cooking; she did them to the best of her +ability, too well, in fact, according to Polly, who was +no advocate for superfluous thoroughness. But +there were other things she tried to do which were +not easy; she was trying under somewhat adverse +circumstances to be more of a lady, more like Theresa +to please Gilchrist, more like the gentlewoman of +Mr. Dane’s definition to please herself.</p> + +<p>On the whole the cousins lived happily and let +their rooms with a fair amount of success. Polly’s +lot was occasionally brightened by a hamper from +Haylands, or shaded by the loss of a paying +lodger or the all too previous departure of one +who had not paid. But in the beginning of +December when Gilchrist came to town things were +not very prosperous; the rooms had been empty +some time, the cold weather had set in early, and the +fog, which preceded and sometimes accompanied the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span>frost, was both depressing and likely to be expensive +in gas. Polly economised in candle-ends, bemoaning +her fate, and then indulged in buttered muffins “to +cheer us up.” It was on the occasion of the muffins +that Bill received Gilchrist’s letter.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if he is going home again the same +night,” Polly speculated. “He had much better stay +here,—there is plenty of room. I shall ask him; +it will be more correct for me to do it than for you.”</p> + +<p>Bill did not know why it was more correct, but +knowing Polly liked these small details she raised no +objection, and in due time the invitation was given +and accepted. Polly was much pleased, being genuinely +hospitable and moreover very proud of her +dingy little house; she also thought a great deal of +Gilchrist since the matter of Wood Hall had come to +her knowledge, and she prepared for his reception +accordingly. The best bedroom was made ready, +the best sitting-room set in order. Bill did most of +that, but Polly, with an eye to effect, brought their +work-baskets and books from the kitchen, where +they were usually kept.</p> + +<p>“We must make it look as if we sat here always,” +she said, as she put a reel of cotton on the mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>“Then we must bring the cat,” Bill replied, “for +he always sits with us. But it is rather nonsense; +why should not Gilchrist know we live in the +kitchen? He knows that somebody must do the +work, and he won’t think the worse of us for +doing it.”</p> + +<p>But Polly thought otherwise. “It was different +when he was only a working farmer,” she said. +“Now, since all this about Wood Hall has happened, +he won’t look at it in quite the same way.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span>“I don’t see any reason for pretending, when he +knows that we work.”</p> + +<p>“He knows it in a general way, but it is one +thing to know it and quite another to see it being +done.”</p> + +<p>With which incontestable opinion Polly closed her +remarks and carried her point, and when Gilchrist +came soon after six o’clock the best sitting-room +looked as snug as though it were the family’s +habitual living-room. Bill had on her best frock +and her best manners, and everything was as pleasant +as possible. Polly was delighted; she had been a +little afraid that Gilchrist, in his position of claimant +to the Wood Hall estate, might wish to make a +more advantageous marriage than the one in prospect. +She was very much afraid that he might use +the private and not very binding nature of the +engagement as an excuse to repudiate it, or to +induce Bill to release him. But on that December +evening she was perfectly satisfied, he and Bill +evidently understanding one another, and Bill was +behaving beautifully; she was so gentle and submissive, +she might almost have been anybody.</p> + +<p>Polly, in spite of her low financial ebb, had prepared +what she called a “tasty supper” in honour of +the guest. It was not altogether unlike her millinery—an +ingenious “do-up” finished off with a few new +trimmings, but it was undeniably successful. She +was very gratified by its success and by things in +general, and it was with a cheerful countenance that +she withdrew after the meal.</p> + +<p>“I know you must have a lot to talk about,” she +said, beaming upon the other two; “and as I have +some letters to write, I think I will go and do them +down-stairs.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>So she went, though the letters resolved themselves +into the supper-things which she washed, while up-stairs +Gilchrist told Bill all about Wood Hall and the +progress of the case, which was not rapid, and his +opinion of the rival claimant, which was not enthusiastic. +Bill listened and answered as sympathetically +as she could, though it is possible she would rather +have been washing dishes in the kitchen. Still she +did her share in the conversation admirably, and +when they spoke of things other than those concerning +Wood Hall she was really splendid in her efforts +to be like Theresa. Nevertheless Gilchrist did not +commend her improvement; perhaps he was not +satisfied with it, nor with the submissive girl, who +was trying so hard to please him.</p> + +<p>Bill felt the failure when she went to bed that +night. “I expect it did not ring true,” she thought; +“I must try to feel like Theresa as well as behave +like her. I’ll do it in time; I believe I could be +anything if I tried long enough.” And so she fell +asleep, resolutely trying to school herself to what she +conceived to be Theresa’s attitude of mind. She +woke next morning with the same thought uppermost +and continued her practice of what she called +“Theresaing” her mind while she cleaned the +guest’s boots in the basement.</p> + +<p>At breakfast that morning Gilchrist said he should +not leave for Wrugglesby until the six o’clock train. +Bill felt a pleasurable expectancy; perhaps he would +suggest that they two should go for a walk somewhere; +she knew where they would go, the British +Museum was free to all comers and they would go +there and look at all the mummies. There was so +little work to do now, Polly would not mind, and +it would be very nice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span>Gilchrist said he had business which would occupy +him during the morning. That was natural, but the +afternoon—Polly supposed, with an affable smile, +that he “would want her to spare Bill part of the +afternoon.” But Gilchrist, looking out of the +window, said it did not promise to be a very nice +day, adding that he probably would not be back +before four, when it would be quite dark.</p> + +<p>“Just as if it is not possible to go out after dark +and enjoy it too!” Polly observed indignantly later +on in the day. The cousins were clearing up after +their mid-day dinner and Polly slammed the plates +into the rack in a dangerous manner as she spoke, +her disgust with Gilchrist having been simmering all +the morning.</p> + +<p>But Bill hardly glanced round. “I don’t care,” +she said indifferently; “I did not want to go so very +much.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I dare say!” Polly snorted indignantly. +“He ought to have taken you all the same; I don’t +think it is at all nice behaviour on his part. He has +not brought you a present or anything, in spite of +all his fuss about Wood Hall.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want presents. He is no richer than he +was, and he has no time to think of it, and—and—I +don’t want things.”</p> + +<p>Bill’s face was rosy and her tone hurt, but Polly +went on volubly: “Look at Jack Dawson; besides +a lovely engagement-ring (which you have not got +through Theresa’s nonsense) he has given Bella—”</p> + +<p>“I tell you, Polly, I don’t want presents; I won’t +have you say any more about it!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, of course I can quite understand you +don’t like to have it mentioned, but I must say +I don’t think it is at all nice of him. You haven’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span>cost him much, in fact nothing at all; I suppose +he thought, as he could have you for the asking, +he need not trouble, but it isn’t very flattering. I +do think he might have taken you out—might +have taken us both out—after all the trouble we +have had too, that lovely supper last night, and fried +bacon for breakfast this morning, and all.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed. “A truly commercial mind!” she +said. “But perhaps Gilchrist will leave a tip for +our invisible servant; if so, you could take that +in payment for the supper.”</p> + +<p>But Polly was much annoyed with the guest, more +than was just, for he was really too busy to +think of anything at present, and he certainly had +not intended to slight or wound either of the +cousins. Nevertheless he had wounded Polly’s +pride; as for Bill, no one knew what she thought, +for which reason, if for no other, Polly reflected +that she had done very foolishly to speak as she +had done. She was herself dressing to go out +now because she “felt so upset that she could not +stay in.” While she dressed she came to the conclusion +that she had been most indiscreet, for if it +were true that Gilchrist had been neglectful it was her +place to pour balm on Bill’s wounds, not to point out +Gilchrist’s misdemeanours. She had certainly been +foolish, and accordingly, before going out, she went +to the kitchen and apologised for what she had said.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean anything,” she explained. “I was +annoyed by that butcher sending in his bill as he +did, and I was put out and cross altogether. Of +course I would not say a word against Gilchrist. +You know what a lot I think of him; he’s worth +twenty of Jack Dawson; nobody would expect him +to waste his money on silly presents.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>Bill said it was “all right,” and Polly went +out leaving her young cousin cleaning the kitchen-hearth. +And possibly it would have been all right +but for what followed. Bill had not thought of +receiving presents from Gilchrist, nor yet of going +out with him; she did not expect either, and though +she was disappointed about the mummies, she did +not regard his actions as an index of his affections.</p> + +<p>It was when she had almost finished the hearth +that there came a ring at the front door. It was +not much after three yet, and Polly had said she +would be home at half-past so as to be ready by +the time Gilchrist returned at four. Bill came to +the conclusion that it must be the baker who rang, +and since the summons sounded peremptory, she +went up-stairs without waiting to take off the sacking +apron she had put on for cleaning the hearth. She +wore her oldest frock, which she had put on as +soon as their visitor went out; it was short as +well as old, and her disreputable shoes showed +well below it. It was not wonderful that Gilchrist +looked at her blankly for a moment when she +opened the door to him and his friend Ferguson. +Only for a moment he looked, and then Bill, +withdrawing herself behind the door after the manner +of maids-of-all-work, spoke: “Miss ’Ains is out,” +she said; “but walk in, won’t yer, sir?”</p> + +<p>Gilchrist walked in, half paused, and then went +on without speaking. It was impossible to present +her to Ferguson as his future wife, more especially +impossible in the light of her stupidly unrecognising +look; she herself made the introduction impossible +by the very perfection with which she had assumed +her part. So the introduction was not made, and +the two men went up to the sitting-room to examine +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span>a document Gilchrist had left there, while Bill, with +a clatter of ill-shod feet, went back to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>By-and-bye the street door was closed, and soon +after, the work being done, Bill went up-stairs to +change her dress. She thought Gilchrist had gone +out with his friend, but she was mistaken. As +she passed the half-open door of the sitting-room +she saw him standing before the fireplace, where, +for economy’s sake, the fire had been allowed to +go out after he had left that morning. Bill paused: +Polly had told her to re-light the fire before half-past +three. It must be done; moreover, she in her own +character never hesitated about going through with +any difficulty into which she might have blundered; +in the character of Theresa it was impossible to +know how to act, for Theresa never got into these +difficulties. Consequently the character of Theresa +was forgotten, and it was the original Bill who +walked into the room with genuine regret for what +had occurred, but not entirely without a little +amusement too.</p> + +<p>“I’ll light the fire,” she said, turning back the +hearth-rug before she knelt down and beginning to +arrange paper in the grate. “I am very sorry, +Gilchrist,” she went on penitently as she glanced up +at the young man’s gloomy face. “I never expected +you back so early; I thought it was the baker.”</p> + +<p>“Are you in the habit of going to the baker +like that?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, sometimes, if I am in a hurry or he +is. I thought the ring sounded like a hurry. I +really am sorry, but Mr. Ferguson didn’t know me, +so there’s not much harm done.”</p> + +<p>“I think there is a great deal of harm done.” +Gilchrist’s face did not relax. “Don’t trouble about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span>the fire just now, I want to talk to you. Tell me, is +it necessary for you to get in this condition?”</p> + +<p>Bill obediently left laying the fire and answered +apologetically: “I am afraid I am a dirty worker.”</p> + +<p>“But surely it is hardly necessary to do this work. +What have you been doing? What do you do?”</p> + +<p>“I was cleaning the kitchen-stove when you +rang,” Bill answered meekly, though something in +the masterfulness of his tone was rousing the old +Bill whom it was not easy to drive. “Perhaps,” +she went on with a spark of fun in her eyes, “it +was hardly necessary to do the stove, but I don’t +know; it is a point open to discussion; the same +with the knives which I have cleaned since; but +your boots, which I did earlier in the day, really +were necessary, don’t you think so?”</p> + +<p>“Did you clean my boots?”</p> + +<p>“I cleaned your honour’s noble boots,” and she +swept him a courtesy and then looked up with a +dawning smile.</p> + +<p>But he did not smile. “You ought not to have +done it,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Why? I did not mind.”</p> + +<p>“I mind.”</p> + +<p>Yet his tone somehow told her that he minded +because she was his future wife and the possible +mistress of Wood Hall, rather than because she +was herself.</p> + +<p>“I told you I should be a general servant,” she +said. “Do you remember that night we went to the +Dawsons and Miss Dawson was so contemptuous?” +and she set her mobile face into Miss Dawson’s +supercilious stare. But Gilchrist did not seem +pleased by the recollection, and the imp in Bill getting +the upper hand, she went on somewhat recklessly. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span>“Well, I am a general servant now, though not a very +good one. What a queer little slavey you’ve got here, +Harborough,” and her change of tone made the man +start, and for a moment almost think Ferguson was +back. “Who the devil is she? I believe I know +her face—by Jove, she’s like the plum girl I met +near your place last summer. But I don’t think +Gilchrist told her name.”</p> + +<p>“No”—his tone was cold with suppressed anger—“I +did not tell your name; I was not exactly proud +of my future wife.”</p> + +<p>The smile died out of her face. “I am very sorry,” +she said penitently, and the penitence was genuine, +but Gilchrist was not mollified.</p> + +<p>“You do not show it,” he said; “mimicking my +friends and making fun of what you have done hardly +suggests regret. I think under the circumstances it +would be as well if we said no more about it. Perhaps +you had better go and change your dress; talking +will not make matters any better.”</p> + +<p>She began to move towards the door humbled by +his words, but half turned before she opened it. +“Are matters very bad?” she asked wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Can you think them very good? Do you think +your life, or ways, or,—or anything at all fitting to +the position you may have to occupy? I don’t mean +to blame you, but things do not promise to be quite +the same as they were, and I wish you would try to +remember the difference.”</p> + +<p>She turned fully now, and unconsciously both tone +and manner had changed, becoming quiet and firm. +“You mean,” she said, “that what was fitting for +your wife when you were only Harborough of +Crows’ Farm is not fitting now? You are quite +right; I agree with you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span>“Then I wish you would act upon it.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot, the unfitness goes too deep, for it is I +myself who was fit to be your wife then but am not +now.”</p> + +<p>“Bill! What nonsense is this? I am no different +from what I was: the case is not decided, may never +be decided in my favour; and if it were it would +make no difference. I have never suggested such a +thing and I never meant it.”</p> + +<p>“You did not say it, but I do; it is true. Listen +a minute—I have tried to be ladylike, as I thought +you would wish me to be, and sometimes I think I +succeed a little,—this afternoon doesn’t count, it was +an accident—but my ladylikeness, even if it were more +successful, is not what is wanted. It is I, my real self, +who am unfit to be your wife under the present circumstances.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what right you have to say such a +thing; I suppose you are angry because of what I +said this afternoon.” If she were angry the +young man could not help thinking she had a strange +way of showing it, for her whole manner suggested +clear-sighted calmness; the excitement was his. “I +own I spoke sharply,” he went on, “and I am sorry +for it, but I was annoyed.”</p> + +<p>“You had a right to be,” she told him; “I +deserved it and I am not angry at all. It is not what +you said just now that makes me say this, it is the +whole thing; I cannot help seeing I am not fit for +you now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you are; the position has not altered, and +if it did you are as fit for the new as the old if you +choose to be.”</p> + +<p>But the girl shook her head. “No,” she said, “I +am not. I was fit for Crows’ Farm; that life would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span>have drawn out a good side of me, just as it drew out +a side of you which wanted me. Wood Hall acts +differently. Oh, I know you have not got it yet, +may never have it; but the fact that you have +claimed it, that you have a close acknowledged connection +with the other Harboroughs has altered your +position, has altered you and your ideas. No matter +what happens now you cannot be only the working +farmer of Crows’ Farm who wants a working wife.”</p> + +<p>“You mean to say you believe I don’t think you +good enough?”</p> + +<p>“No, oh no; it is not that exactly; I think it is +that we don’t fit now.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want to fit?” Gilchrist eyed her sternly +as he asked the question.</p> + +<p>“I did want to,” she told him. “I tried hard to +be what you would like while I thought you wanted +to marry me—”</p> + +<p>“You think I don’t want to marry you now?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered simply, and her school companions +Carrie and Alice would have told her that she +had not yet acquired a sense of decency, for she +certainly did not know how to mince matters. “You +did want to marry me,” she said, “and I would have +married you; but the new position makes you and +your wants different and would make me different +too. The whole thing had better end.”</p> + +<p>“In plain terms, you won’t marry me now?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I will,” she said meeting his eyes bravely. +“I will marry you if you can truthfully say you still +wish it.”</p> + +<p>He hesitated a moment. “Of course I do,” he +answered.</p> + +<p>But that was not what Bill meant and she said so.</p> + +<p>“You don’t believe me?” he said rather stiffly. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span>“You must please yourself about that, but if you +wish to be free of course you can be; our engagement +was on those terms; you are not bound.”</p> + +<p>“I am bound by my own word,” she answered; +“so long as you want me I am bound. But you +don’t really want me. Look at me; am I suited to +be your wife? Tell me—you know me now—do +you wish it?”</p> + +<p>She stood at the end of the room, the murky light +of the winter dusk falling upon her, intensifying not +concealing the faults in her dress, her shoes, her sacking +apron. A small, odd, shabby figure she looked +in that cheerless little parlour with its empty grate, +small and odd, not alluring at all in the gloom. The +man saw each detail, and seeing, wondered how she +had ever bewitched him.</p> + +<p>He could not but look at her, and as he looked he +moved slightly. “You are talking nonsense,” he said, +turning to the empty grate; “to-morrow you will +think better of all this.”</p> + +<p>He glanced at her as he ceased speaking, but it +was too late. He should have met her eyes before if +he wished to convince her.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” she said simply; “now you have +told me.”</p> + +<p>“I—told you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; you need not mind, you did it quite +honourably. Don’t mind. See here, I will square it +with Polly and Theresa; it will be better so; they will +only think I have changed my mind. Theresa will +be sorry and Polly angry, but they won’t say anything +to you; they won’t know about you: they will think +it is all me.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to tell me you consider our engagement +at an end and you will tell your cousins so?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“You shall do no such thing!”</p> + +<p>“I shall tell Polly to-day; she is not in yet, but +she will be soon. I shall tell her as soon as she +comes.”</p> + +<p>“Then you do it against my will.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,”—Bill spoke doubtfully—“telling is against +the grain I dare say, but the breaking off is not. It +is no good, Theo; don’t let us pretend any more. +I know you would have honourably gone through +with it because you gave your word, and I would +have honourably done the same because I gave mine +and believed you wished it; and we should have both +done what we could to make the best of it afterwards. +But all through me getting so grubby this afternoon +I have found out the truth, and you are freed from +your word, and it is all over; so let us say so, and +be friends.”</p> + +<p>Five minutes later Polly found the street door ajar +and entered the house mentally abusing Bill’s carelessness. +She went up-stairs and seeing the sitting-room +door open, she looked into the room. Neither +fire nor gas was lighted; in the cold twilight she saw +the small figure by the window.</p> + +<p>“Bill,” she exclaimed, “not dressed yet! And +the fire not laid, nothing done and Gilchrist will be +here directly. This is nice!”</p> + +<p>“Gilchrist is not coming; he has gone away +altogether.”</p> + +<p>“Not coming! Not coming back, do you mean? +And I have bought two lovely tea-cakes and half-a-pound +of fresh butter!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVI.<br> +<small>AN OLD WOUND.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Do</span> come here for Christmas,” wrote Bella to Bill +from Haylands about the middle of December. +“You must come, if it is only for a week. It is +nonsense for Polly to say she can’t spare you; she +simply must. Theresa thinks that it will do you +good. She won’t believe what Polly says about the +way in which you have taken this breaking off with +Gilchrist; she thinks you must be upset, and that to +come here might do you good. I enclose a postal +order for six shillings for the fare. Polly is sure to +say you can’t afford it; Theresa and I can, and we +want you to come.”</p> + +<p>And in spite of Polly’s protestations and objections +Bill went. Polly could not go; she had one lodger +now and could not shut the house up. But seeing +that he was only one, and one who did not require +much waiting on, and seeing also that Bella and +Theresa had paid Bill’s fare, there was no reason why +she should not go. So Bill went to Wrugglesby, +and Bella and Theresa, who had driven from +Ashelton for some shopping, met her and brought +her home.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>Bella was glad Bill was coming, although, she reflected, +if the girl was really as disturbed as Theresa +imagined about her broken engagement she would be +but poor company and not much relief from the +dulness of Haylands. For some reason or other it +had been dull there that autumn, at least on the days +when Jack did not come. Theresa, who had always +been quiet, was more quiet than ever now; she +seemed to have aged during the past months, or else +Bella, used to associating with the livelier if more +unprincipled Polly, thought so. “Marriage does +alter people,” thought Bella, and fell to speculating +about herself and Jack. There really was very little +to think about at Haylands, very little to talk about +in all Ashelton. Even Miss Minchin, at the fortnightly +working-parties, had nothing fresh to say, +and so went untiringly over the nine days’ wonder of +Gilchrist Harborough’s claim to Wood Hall.</p> + +<p>Miss Minchin might not be tired of that, but Bella +was, and by the beginning of December she had heard +quite enough of that and most other subjects of +Ashelton conversation. But about that time she and +Theresa found a fresh subject in the letter Bill wrote +to them after Gilchrist’s visit to London. She wrote +by one post, and by the next Polly wrote a good two +ounces of lamentation, indignation, and abuse, the last +both of Theresa and her “ridiculous secrecy,” and +also, in a far larger degree, of Bill and her obstinacy. +Theresa was much perplexed; neither she nor Bella +could understand how it had come about; there was +no explanation, except that Bill had availed herself of +their permission to change her mind, and that somehow +seemed unlikely. Bella was inclined to blame +Gilchrist, and cited several instances when his devotion +had fallen short of Jack’s. Theresa, on the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span>other hand, was for putting the change down to +girlish caprice. She made a point of talking to Gilchrist +on the subject, but without enlightening herself +to any great extent. “Of course I could not cross-question +him,” she wrote to Polly, and was naturally +not aware of that lady’s wrathful exclamation,—“I +know I could then!”</p> + +<p>Although Theresa did not hear this, or any other of +Polly’s remarks, she could guess their nature, and her +invitation to Bill was given partly with a view of +saving the girl from the ceaseless bombardment of +the elder cousin’s wrath. As it happened, however, +Polly was comparatively merciful in her indignation; +she knew when words were a waste of breath, and +understood with some precision when she could, and +when she could not, move her partner. Consequently +Bill was let off easily, and for that, or for +some other reason, she did not seem at all unhappy +when she stepped out on the platform at Wrugglesby +station. The sisters, who met her, recognised the +fact at once, and Bella at least was glad of it as she +helped to carry Polly’s hat-box to the pony-carriage. +Bill talked a good deal on the homeward way, seeming +anything but depressed. Once when they were +clear of the town she looked round and said softly: +“How beautiful it is! How very, very beautiful it +is out here!”</p> + +<p>Bella thought the girl must be expressing her +delight at leaving London and all her troubles behind +her. She could see no beauty in the landscape,—bare +fields spread wide beneath the winter sky; gaunt, +black-limbed elms and leafless hedgerows where the +twilight crept mysteriously; a pale flare of sunset +breaking through the ashen clouds to make the level +land luminous and show near objects with a wonderful +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span>distinctness; stacks and barns and low-roofed cottages +whence the smoke in thin spirals went straightly up +into the evening air.</p> + +<p>Robert came out to meet the pony-carriage with +quite a cheerful smile of welcome.</p> + +<p>“Here, brother-in-law Laziness,” Bill said, filling +his arms with Theresa’s parcels; “take some more, +you can have these. I’ve got the sugar, T.”</p> + +<p>And they went indoors, Robert’s setter slobbering +over Bill,—she never had a dress that could be hurt +by a dog’s caress—and sheepishly following them into +the forbidden precincts of the house.</p> + +<p>“You are jolly cold, I expect,” Robert said as he +poked the fire into a blaze. “Get your boots off and +warm your feet. Where are your slippers? In this +thing? Is this the key tied on outside?”</p> + +<p>Bill said it was; in her opinion to tie its key to the +handle of an article was a sure way of having the key +when you wanted it. Robert unfastened the box and +rummaged over the contents with clumsy hands till +he found the shoes; afterwards he put the things +back anyhow, so that the box had to be carried up-stairs +with the lid open.</p> + +<p>How they talked that evening! Bella and Robert, +even Theresa as well as Bill. Bill wanted to know +everything, about the horses and dogs, the cows and +pigs; what that stack had yielded when it was +threshed, how the potatoes were keeping, why the +long meadow was ploughed. She wanted to know +all about everybody in the place, how they were and +what new clothes they had; she wanted to know when +Jack came last and when he was coming next, what +quantity of butter Theresa was getting now, and the +pattern of the lace Bella had bought for her petticoats.</p> + +<p>Somehow or other the commonplaces of life, the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span>veriest trivialities assumed a vivid interest with Bill; +the life which had seemed rather dull in the living +became full of humour and incident when told to +her. Her own life in London, when she told them +about it, seemed almost fascinating. Bella found +herself wishing that she had insisted on joining the +lodging-venture; she did not realise that the life, +like the flat wintry landscape, required to be looked +at through the lens of a particular kind of mind to +assume the aspect it did for Bill.</p> + +<p>One could not help being conscious of Bill’s +presence in the house. By the next afternoon +Theresa was beginning to be aware of the difference +she made. Bill had been in the attic that morning +and looked over the nuts and apples that she herself +had put there; she had brought down the rotten +ones and brought down also the rose-leaves, put away +to dry and forgotten. She had been round the barns +and stables and out into the frozen garden, round the +orchard to look for broken branches and dead wood +for burning, into the icy dairy to help Jessie and hear +about her love-affairs.</p> + +<p>“It’s like openin’ the winders on a summer +mornin’,” Jessie said, when just before dinner Bill +passed the kitchen-door with some Christmas roses +she had found in a sheltered corner of the garden. +She had gone to the pantry to arrange them in a +glass, singing as she did so. Strangely enough she +had not sung or whistled since that September morning +at Bymouth when she mimicked the birds while +Kit Harborough wrung out her wet bathing-dress. +But she did not know this, neither did Jessie, though +she heard the singing appreciatively now. Still, it +was not that which caused her remark when Bill, +now quiet, passed the kitchen-door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span>“It do freshen the house up wonderfully to have +you here again, miss; it’s for all the world like +openin’ the winders on a sunny mornin’.”</p> + +<p>But Bill scarcely understood the allusion any more +than Theresa did the fact. Theresa certainly did not +understand; she was glad to have the girl back +again, but she felt that she was more incomprehensible +than ever. Her whole attitude towards Gilchrist +and the broken engagement was extraordinary +to Theresa. She questioned Bill of course, and +learned practically nothing, though her questions +were answered freely enough. Bill was glad when +the questioning was over; she was very tired of the +subject and she wanted to hear about Bella’s +<i>trousseau</i>; also she wanted to go and see Mr. +Dane.</p> + +<p>Mr. Dane knew nothing about the engagement; +there was no reason now why Bill should tell him, +yet that afternoon, as she knelt on his hearth-rug in +the twilight, she suddenly determined to do so and +to ask his opinion on her own course of action. It +was after one of those pleasant, companionable +silences which often fell between them that she +approached the subject, entirely without introduction, +as was her way. “Monseigneur,” she said abruptly, +“do you think it is ever right to break a promise,—a +promise to marry someone, I mean?”</p> + +<p>“To marry someone?” Mr. Dane repeated, and +though his tone was only surprised there was a +gravity in his manner as if he feared trouble in the +near future. “Yes,” he said after a moment’s consideration, +“in some circumstances I do think it +right to break such a promise.”</p> + +<p>“What circumstances?”</p> + +<p>“If the person giving the promise finds out afterwards +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span>that he or she does not love the one to whom +it is given.”</p> + +<p>“If one of the two finds that out?” Bill said in +surprise. “You do not really think that is enough? +You would not break a promise for that, you would +not think it honourable; it would not be either—neither +honourable nor right.”</p> + +<p>“It would not be right for some people,” Mr. +Dane admitted; “but for others—” he broke off +abruptly, and after a pause turned to her with an +almost terrible earnestness. “Child,” he said, “do +not think I am trifling with right and wrong; indeed +I am not. Yet still I say that, though it might not +be honourable for some to break such a promise, for +you it would not be a question of honour or dishonour +but of absolute necessity.”</p> + +<p>“I did not think so.”</p> + +<p>“You?” he exclaimed with an excitement which +astonished her; “you did not think so?”</p> + +<p>“No,” she said, “I did not. I promised to marry +Gilchrist Harborough, but I did not love him.”</p> + +<p>“Then, in God’s name, do not marry him! You +don’t know what you are doing. Do you think it +worse to break your promise and dishonour your +word, or to break a man’s heart and dishonour him, +yourself, and God’s law, all that is most holy and +most binding on earth?”</p> + +<p>And then Bill realised what she had done, and how +her words had wounded her friend. Had he not +married a woman who did not love? Had he not +suffered to the full the uttermost bitterness of which +he spoke? As she realised how she had reopened +the tragedy of his life the girl was struck dumb with +remorse, too grieved for the moment to think of +explaining the circumstances of her own affairs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span>But Mr. Dane did not know the reason of her +silence, and he went on, his face drawn and stern. +“You do not know your own history nor the danger +which may threaten you. I do; and knowing, I say +you must not, cannot marry a man you do not truly +love. It is a mockery to pray ‘lead us not into +temptation’ and then to put yourself in temptation’s +way. There is a passion which is stronger than you; +it may sleep now but it will not always sleep, believe +me, it will not always sleep. Listen now: first +concerning your mother. You did not know her, +neither did I, but you yourself told me she married +in defiance of her parents; she loved the man and +counted them well lost for him. And he,—he loved +her, bewitched her, desired her,—she had no will but +to go,—I know how it was done.”</p> + +<p>“You knew my father!”</p> + +<p>“No, I knew his father. I saw the spell at work; +I know the will of those Alardys and the power of +their love; I have good reason to know. Your +grandmother, the first Wilhelmina, I knew her too. +She was another man’s wife; she married him though +she did not love him; she thought it was safe; she +did not know—then came this other—”</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly. He was pacing the far side +of the room with the restlessness almost of a young +man; he stood in the shadow now, but she sat +regarding him wide-eyed, something almost of horror +in her face. That he should tear open these old +wounds for her, his wife’s grandchild, Wilhelmina’s +grandchild! Wilhelmina! Yes, she knew now, the +links in the chain were joined and she knew, +although she murmured,—“My grandmother, Wilhelmina +Corby?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, and then he came into the firelight +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span>and his face was very pitiful. “Child, child,” he +said sadly, “there are passions of which you know +nothing; pray God you never may!”</p> + +<p>The girl’s eyes suddenly filled with tears: “Do +you not hate me?” she whispered.</p> + +<p>But he did not hate her. The blessed years which +had taught him not to hate, taught him to be merciful +as well as just. “No, Princess Puck,” he said, +smiling gently, “I do not think I hate you.”</p> + +<p>She crept dog-like to his side of the fire. “Shall I +tell you something,” he said, reaching a hand down +to touch her hair, “something which I do not count +the least of my blessings this year?—God’s goodness +in sending to me, whom He has denied wife or child, +a little brown elf for a granddaughter.”</p> + +<p>Bill could not speak. She only mutely pressed +against his chair, and for a long time they sat silent +while he softly stroked her hair and the ashes fell +quietly on the hearth. At last the old man spoke +again; he had been thinking of the girl’s half-made +confidence and it troubled him greatly. “This +promise of which you spoke,” he said,—“is it to be +kept or broken?”</p> + +<p>Bill started like one awakening. “Broken,” she +said, “I have broken it”; and she told him the +whole story, always, of course, excepting that which +was said, or rather was not said, when she and Kit +Harborough met under the beeches on a day when a +dream proved to be a dream no longer. But perhaps +Mr. Dane discovered a little of that for himself, for +when he said good-bye to her that night he realised +that his Princess Puck was a child no more.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVII.<br> +<small>A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was towards the end of January that Bella came +to town to finish buying her <i>trousseau</i>. A <i>trousseau</i> is +a really momentous affair, and Bella, feeling that the +shops at Wrugglesby were not equal to the occasion, +came to Bayswater, where Polly gave her limitless +advice and all the help in her power. Polly really +enjoyed Bella’s visit, and Bill, who knew Polly’s +weakness, did all the housework so that the elder +cousin should be free to go shopping or help with +the needlework according as opportunity offered. +During the time Bella was in London it seemed to +Bill that they thought of, talked of, and considered +very little beyond clothes, except perhaps once or +twice in the evenings when Bella told them a little +about Ashelton. Such conversations did not interest +Polly, but as Bill liked them Bella talked to her. +Once indeed Polly showed some interest, when Bella +spoke of the change in Theresa and Robert.</p> + +<p>“They both have altered a good deal,” she concluded,—“especially +Robert. You saw him at +Christmas, Bill; don’t you think he is changing?”</p> + +<p>“Not changing exactly,” Bill said, “he is,—I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span>think he is developing, growing to what you would +expect. Some kinds of people are bound to grow in +particular kinds of ways; they can hardly help +themselves.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t like Robert’s kind of way, then. I think +he has changed a good deal, and for the worse; so +would you if you had stayed at Haylands as long as +I have.”</p> + +<p>Bill did not explain that what Bella called “a +change for the worse” and she “a natural growing” +were one and the same thing; she did not say anything +about it, though she felt a good deal, and knew +that she could not help Theresa now any more than +she could have helped her last spring.</p> + +<p>Bella had gone on to speak of the change in Theresa +and of the quiet of Haylands. “Hardly a soul +comes there now,” she said; “Theresa keeps them +all at arm’s length. I expect that is why Miss +Minchin and Mrs. Johnson and the rest of them +never come now. Of course Gilchrist Harborough +would not come.”</p> + +<p>Polly heaved a sigh. “I expect Bill’s breaking with +Gilchrist troubled Theresa a good deal,” she said.</p> + +<p>But Bella laughed at such an idea, and afterwards +went on to speak of Gilchrist and the lawsuit. “He +has so little spare time just now,” she said, “that I +don’t believe he would go to see anyone except on +business. Jack sees him sometimes, and that is how +I get to hear about him and his case. He is rather +disgusted with it just now, Jack says, abuses the +lawyers, and professes a great contempt for the +slowness of the law.”</p> + +<p>Bill opened her eyes. “Why,” she said, “he +has only just begun! It will be two years before it +is over. What did he expect?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span>“How do you know?” demanded Polly.</p> + +<p>“I was told,” Bill answered, and Bella saved +her further explanation by remarking: “That is +what Mr. Stevens says; he told Jack so, and Jack +told Gilchrist.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” Bill inquired.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that he did not see how they were going to +make the time out, but he supposed they would do it +somehow. Jack said he seemed disgusted with +everything that day, and vowed he would not mind +selling his chances for a good sum down.”</p> + +<p>“Did he say that?” Bill asked quickly. “He told +Jack that? But he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t sell +his chances; they would be no good to anyone else.”</p> + +<p>“He could sell them to the other side,” Bella said +with the pride of recently acquired knowledge. +“Jack told me that if the Harboroughs were rich +they would probably by the autumn, if his claim +seemed pretty good, try to compromise,—pay him to +withdraw, you know. But then they are not rich; +they have no spare money at all, and Jack says he +does not think they could raise any. It seems rather +a pity, for Jack says he believes Gilchrist would +agree to a reasonable arrangement; he does not care +a bit about Wood Hall now and only wants to go +back to Australia.”</p> + +<p>“We all know why that is,” Polly said with pious +conviction. “Bill has only herself to thank if he does +leave England like that.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose it would make any difference to +Bill if he did go,” Bella retorted; “and she certainly +has nothing to do with his wanting to go. Jack says +he is disgusted with people in general, with the +lawyers and the other claimant much more than with +Bill.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span>“Poor Gilchrist!” Polly said with commiseration, +and continued to look in a meaning manner at Bill, +who, however, was far too absorbed in the thoughts +suggested to her by Bella’s words to heed her.</p> + +<p>Long that night she lay thinking of these new +ideas, her brain full of conflicting thoughts, impossible +plans, crazy fancies. Money, money,—she had never +felt the want of it before, never, for all her poverty, +felt any desire to be rich. She had always been poor +and she had never minded; she had never been +tempted by girlish superfluities, had never cared for +ribbons and lace and nice food. But now,—now she +wanted money desperately, not a few shillings, or a +few pounds as Polly, who did mind being poor, +wanted it; but money in the big sense of the word, +in the sense in which Polly never wanted it, in which +she herself had hardly contemplated it before. Not +that it mattered whether she wanted much or little, +shillings or pounds or hundreds of pounds; one +seemed about as attainable as the other.</p> + +<p>It was always part of Bill’s work to get up and +clean the boots and light the fires before breakfast; it +was no very great effort to her, and seemed moreover +to fall naturally to her share. On the morning after +she had lain so long thinking over the problem of +ways and means, she got up as usual, cleaned the +lodgers’ boots, lighted the fires, washed her hands, +and then, taking a candle from the kitchen-dresser, +climbed on the back of a chair that stood against the +wall. Moving an almanack hanging high above it, a +hole became visible from which she drew out, wrapped +in paper, Peter Harborough’s shoe-buckles. For a +long time she stood looking at them. Once she +rubbed them on the corner of her apron; once she +held them close to the candle so that the brilliant, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span>refracted light flashed back from the gems and +scattered sparks of white fire over her face and hands. +She could not tell what they were worth, perhaps a +hundred pounds, perhaps two hundred,—Polly had +said two; diamonds were very valuable she knew, +but how valuable she could not tell. At last she +wrapped the buckles up again, put them back in their +hiding-place and went about her work with a +thoughtful face.</p> + +<p>She wore a thoughtful face all that day, for she +was revolving a plan in her mind. In the afternoon +she went to her bedroom and there opened the little +oak box which used to stand in the spare room at +Langford House. She had only been to it once +since last winter, but now she turned over its contents +carefully. She was not much the wiser for her +examination; the only papers old enough to interest +her conveyed little to her mind, beyond the indisputable +fact that the name Corby appeared in them. +However, her failure to find anything important in +the little chest did not alter her plans, and in the +evening, when the elder cousins were at leisure, she +spoke to Polly about them. Bella and Polly had been +busy with the <i>trousseau</i> all day, but by the evening +they were able to listen to Bill when she informed +them that she was going to Wrugglesby the next day.</p> + +<p>“To Wrugglesby!” Bella exclaimed. “What on +earth are you going there for?”</p> + +<p>But this Bill was not prepared to say; she expected +to be asked the question and several others, and to +give much annoyance by not answering them, but it +could not be avoided. She felt that she could not +explain matters yet. Things fell out exactly as she +anticipated; Bella was only curious, but Polly was +decidedly angry; she felt that she had a right to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span>inquire, and she exercised it,—with no good results, +for when, on Bill’s refusing to assign any reasons, she +forbade her going to Wrugglesby, the girl showed +every intention of going in spite of her. Whereupon +Polly, who by this time knew she could not always +drive the stubborn Bill, became very dignified, retreating +from her post of dictator behind a manner +of superior and chilling indifference, after which she +climbed down from her pinnacle of outraged authority +and informed the offender that she should not pay her +fare.</p> + +<p>“No, of course not,” Bill said readily; “I have +some money.”</p> + +<p>And she had; for it so happened that after a +battle royal with Polly one day she had succeeded in +arranging for wages of a pound a month, the same as +any other little servant. Polly had vowed that she +should not have it, that she was a partner in the firm +and not a paid servant, but Bill stood to her guns, +foregoing any future profits but insisting on present +wages; and as she struck work when they were not +paid she contrived to get them regularly, and so to +have a little money for an emergency. Remembering +which Polly said ungraciously: “At any rate you +can’t go until the one o’clock train.”</p> + +<p>The one o’clock train was a very slow one, but it +suited Bill admirably, and by it she went the next day.</p> + +<p>It was nearly three when the one clerk who looked +out on Wrugglesby High Street from Mr. Stevens’s +office-window saw the small figure cross the road and +come towards the door.</p> + +<p>“A lady to see you, sir,—Miss Alardy.”</p> + +<p>The clerk announced this to his employer, although +he thought Miss Alardy an exceedingly young lady +to consult a lawyer on her own account. Mr. Stevens +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span>thought so too; he had a hazy recollection on hearing +the name that she must be one of Miss Brownlow’s +nieces, but he was not sure of the relationship until +he saw the girl. Then he remembered her as the +youngest of the nieces, the one whom, it seemed only +the other day, he used to see walking beside the +governess with a dusky mane of hair hanging about +her shoulders and a general appearance suggestive of +a tendency to turn restive on provocation.</p> + +<p>“Well, and what has brought you to Wrugglesby?” +he said when he had asked after the other cousins. +No one treated Bill in a business-like way; even the +grocer at Bayswater regarded her as a man and a +brother. Mr. Stevens certainly had no idea of being +professionally consulted by this slip of a girl.</p> + +<p>“I have come to see you,” she answered simply. +“I want to ask you a question, a law question.”</p> + +<p>She had her purse in her hand and looked somehow +as if she were prepared to pay six-and-eightpence, +cash down, for his opinion.</p> + +<p>“I will try to answer you,” he said with as much +gravity as he could contrive. “What is this +question?”</p> + +<p>“It begins in the year 1799,” she said without +more ado. “In that year a man, Roger Corby,—perhaps +you have heard of him? But that does not +matter—in the year 1799 he gave a piece of land to +another man—Briant. He gave it for ninety-nine +years, but no rent was to be paid.”</p> + +<p>“A lease, that is,” the lawyer said, “and the rental +probably one peppercorn payable if demanded. Yes, +proceed.”</p> + +<p>“This year,” Bill said, “the time will be up, and I +imagine Roger Corby would get his land back if he +were alive?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span>“Naturally.”</p> + +<p>“But he is not alive, so I suppose his descendants +would get it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is what is usually expected to take +place.”</p> + +<p>“He has only got one descendant; she comes like +this,” and Bill took up some books which lay on the +table. “Roger Corby’s only son died a year after +him,”—she put a thin black book down,—“he is +dead, you see”—pushing the book away—“and so +does not count. The son’s only child, a daughter, is +dead too, but she married when she was fairly young +and she married twice. She ran away from her first +husband and he divorced her; then she married the +other man and had one son, the only child she had. +Well, the son is dead too and the only person left is +his daughter. Would she be able to get the land at +the end of the ninety-nine years?”</p> + +<p>“Most probably, if she has the necessary documents +and can prove she is legally descended from +Roger Corby.”</p> + +<p>Bill said “Thank you,” and sat thinking a minute. +The lawyer watched her curiously, feeling sure there +must be something behind all this, and wondering a +little what it could be.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Briant,” Bill said at last,—“I mean the +Mr. Briant who now has the land—does not think +it will be claimed, at least I believe not; he probably +does not know of the second marriage of Wilhelmina +Corby, and the son and the granddaughter.”</p> + +<p>“Which means,” Stevens observed, “that he will +very strongly object to acknowledging their existence +and will do his best to keep what he has got. Were +I the granddaughter, I think I should first make +quite sure that the thing in question is worth fighting +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span>for, and also I should be very clear that Wilhelmina +Corby was divorced from her first husband and +legally married to her second; can you tell me these +things?”</p> + +<p>Bill could tell him one of the things. “Do you +know Sandover?” she asked. “Yes? A good part +of Sandover now stands on the land; of course at the +time it was given it was only corn fields and grass, +but now it must be valuable.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens whistled, although it was supposed to +be a business interview. “It is worth something, +I admit. Now for Wilhelmina Corby,—how about +her?”</p> + +<p>“It would have to be found out,” Bill said, “but +I believe it is all right. But tell me, what did you +mean by necessary documents?”</p> + +<p>“First and principally the counterpart of the lease. +You don’t know what that is? It is an exact copy +of the deed, the lease which is in possession of the +man who now has the land and by right of which he +has it. There is certain to have been such a deed; +this man, Briant, is sure to have his lease, and unless +the granddaughter can produce her counterpart she +would find it well-nigh impossible to prove her case. +Has she got it, do you think?”</p> + +<p>Bill did not know, and Mr. Stevens went on to +say:—“In the first instance it would probably have +been among Roger Corby’s papers, and so it may +have passed into his granddaughter’s keeping; if it +did, the question is what became of it when she +changed husbands? And if she kept it in her +possession, has her granddaughter got it still, or +failing that, is it possible to trace it?”</p> + +<p>Bill considered a while; she was thinking of the +little oak box and her search in it. “There is an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span>oak box,” she said at last; “it is used as an ottoman +in my bedroom, but I have heard that it belonged to +my grandmother. It is full of papers, mostly letters +and recipes of my mother’s, but there are a few which +are older, one or two very large, tough, yellowish +ones, not written in the ordinary way. I looked at +them yesterday but I could not make them out, +except that the name Corby occurs in them, and that +at least one has the date 1799. Do you think the +thing we want is there?”</p> + +<p>“I think it is just possible.” Mr. Stevens was not +altogether surprised at this dropping of the impersonal. +“So you are the granddaughter of Wilhelmina +Corby, are you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I did not bring the box with me, but +I wish I had now.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps there is nothing of value in it. What +are these old papers like? Can you describe them +to me?”</p> + +<p>Bill did as well as she could, and though the +description was not very detailed Mr. Stevens seemed +satisfied. “I do not know,” he said, “if you have +the counterpart, but I should say from what you tell +me that you must have one or two of the old Corby +documents. Don’t think that I mean they are of +any pecuniary value, as the chances are all against it; +the counterpart, if we could find it, might be, but the +others are just so much legal lumber.”</p> + +<p>Bill did not seem troubled by this discouraging +remark, nor yet by the lawyer’s next words: “If it +is not a rude question, may I ask how much of all +this does your cousin’s solicitor know?”</p> + +<p>“We have not got a solicitor,” Bill answered +readily. “Mr. Brownlow made Aunt Isabel’s will, +but he is dead now, and when he was alive we did +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span>not see anything of him. Polly thought him very +stupid.”</p> + +<p>“Polly? That’s Miss Hains, is it not? Has +your coming to me her sanction?”</p> + +<p>It had not, for the very good reason that Bill had +not consulted her on the subject, or even informed +her that any such subject existed; accordingly she +told Mr. Stevens so, and explained that the affair was +her own entirely.</p> + +<p>“Am I to understand,” the puzzled man enquired, +“that she knows nothing at all about this?”</p> + +<p>“No,” Bill told him, “she doesn’t even know my +grandmother was a Corby. I did not know much +myself before Christmas, and when I did know, it +hardly seemed worth while telling her. I did not +realise then that it might be valuable; I did not +realise that till the night before last.”</p> + +<p>“The night before last? What happened then?”</p> + +<p>“I wanted money desperately, and I thought and +thought of ways of getting it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens repressed an inclination to smile. +“You have by no means got it yet in spite of your +interesting story,” he said. “Let me enumerate +some of the difficulties in the way. Supposing you +have the counterpart of the lease and it is all correct, +you have got to be sure of several things,—that none +of all these people between yourself and Roger Corby +were bankrupt, that they made no awkward marriage-settlements, +and, if they died intestate, left no more +than one child apiece to survive them.”</p> + +<p>“These things will have to be found out,” Bill +said calmly. “Marriage-settlements I don’t know +anything about; children I do. There were no +more than I have said, or at least none that lived to +grow up; I have no relations at all on my father’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span>side. As for bankrupt, I believe it is all right, but +I am not sure; Roger Corby died in debt, though I +think it was all paid off after his death. But I know +he was in debt when he died, that is why Wilhelmina, +my grandmother, had his body carried away by +night.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens had heard something of this story, but +always believed it to be a mere local tradition. “I +had no idea it really happened,” he said.</p> + +<p>Bill assured him that she had excellent reasons for +believing that it did; then she returned to the subject +of more direct interest to herself. “Supposing,” she +said, “that all these things of which you spoke were +right, what then?”</p> + +<p>“Then, if you can get over the difficulty of the +divorce and remarriage and subsequent birth of a son, +you should have a very good case and ought, if all +goes well, eventually to get the money you so much +need; or rather certain persons in authority would +get it to hold in trust for you.”</p> + +<p>“In trust for me?” Bill said with rather an anxious +look.</p> + +<p>“Certainly; you are not of age yet, are you? +Eighteen! The law does not consider you of age +till you are twenty-one. Until that time the money, +if you get it, will be in the hands of guardians who +will manage it entirely and only allow you the use of +a moderate and reasonable proportion.”</p> + +<p>“Polly and Theresa are called my guardians; +would they have to look after the money?”</p> + +<p>“That depends,” Mr. Stevens said. “If they are +only ‘called’ your guardians, the court, if the case +were decided in your favour, would appoint some +one to look after you and your money, you would +be a ward of the court, and the court takes very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span>great care of its wards and looks after them in a +manner not always permitted to parents nowadays. +If, on the other hand, your cousins are legally +appointed your guardians, they would, until you were +twenty-one, have the control of your property, +applying it solely for your benefit and allowing you a +certain amount for your use. But, remember, they +could not do as they chose with it, for they could be +called upon to give a very exact account of their +proceedings.”</p> + +<p>Bill breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s all right,” +she said. “Polly and Theresa, more especially Polly, +are set down in Aunt Isabel’s will as my guardians; +I should be able to manage if I got the money.”</p> + +<p>“They would not allow you more than a comparatively +small sum; you could not touch any +great amount. I don’t fancy you would be much +better off than under the court if you wanted to do +anything foolish, unless of course, the folly took the +form of an unwise marriage, when you certainly +would have more liberty if you were not a ward of +the court.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed softly. “I will tell you what I will +do if I get the money,” she said. “I shall give Polly +so much a year for the rest of her life; she deserves +it and I would give her as much as I could afford; +and with the rest I should do what I liked. We +should arrange it somehow; Polly would do as I +told her. There is time at least to try to find some +way of doing it legally, but if I could not find one I +don’t see that it would so very much matter, because +Polly would be the person who did wrong according +to the law and I should be the person who suffered +wrong, and consequently the one who ought to have +her up when I was old enough. As the case would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span>really be the other way round, I should not have her +up, and she could not have me up, so it would be all +right.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” Mr. Stevens remarked drily, “that is how +you think you will arrange matters, is it? It strikes +me you are a worthy granddaughter of Wilhelmina +the wilful. I fancy, though, you will find more +obstacles than you bargain for in this little game; +where, for instance, does the other cousin and +guardian come in?”</p> + +<p>“I should have to explain to Theresa that it was +right. You would think it so if you knew. Theresa +will always do what she thinks right, and Polly will +do what she is made to do. To get your own way +is mostly a matter of time.”</p> + +<p>“This time I should not be surprised if it took +you till one-and-twenty. Law is not so easy to +play with as you think; and cases of this sort are not +so easy to win either, neither are they settled in a +hurry.”</p> + +<p>Bill was prepared for that. “How long do you +think it would take?” she asked. “A year?”</p> + +<p>“Probably; it might be longer, or it might, if you +have very good luck and few difficulties, be a little +shorter.”</p> + +<p>“Would it cost a great deal?”</p> + +<p>“It could not be done for nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Would a hundred pounds be any good to start +with?”</p> + +<p>“It would be excellent.”</p> + +<p>Bill put her hand into her pocket and drew out +the diamond buckles: “I don’t know what they are +worth,” she said as she placed them before the +astonished lawyer, “but at least a hundred pounds; +more than that, I expect.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span>“Where did you get them?” Mr. Stevens had +taken one to the window, and glanced from it to the +girl.</p> + +<p>“Old Mr. Harborough gave them to me before he +died.”</p> + +<p>“What!” The lawyer lost all interest in the +buckles and stood staring at their owner, wondering +what new surprise this granddaughter of the Corbys +was going to develop.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Harborough gave them to me,” she repeated. +“They are my very own; young Mr. Harborough +was there at the time they were given, and he said +they were my own and no one could take them away. +I did mean to keep them for another purpose, but I +believe it would be more right to use them for this.”</p> + +<p>“Have you any idea what these buckles are +worth?”</p> + +<p>“More than a hundred pounds,” Bill said readily; +“they will do to begin the case, won’t they?”</p> + +<p>“It is altogether extraordinary,” the lawyer +muttered, and began to wrap the buckles in paper +with the resigned air of one who gives up a +problem.</p> + +<p>He offered the parcel to Bill, but she put her hands +behind her back; “I want you to keep them,” she +said, “and begin at once.”</p> + +<p>It was perhaps as well that Mr. Stevens was not +busy that afternoon, for he found there were several +more points to be explained to his young client, +among others that she herself could not bring an +action or give directions for legal proceedings. This +difficulty she disposed of by undertaking to arrange +matters with Polly within two days. Another point +the good man had to explain was that no one would +undertake the case without first knowing a great +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span>deal more about it. This the indefatigable Bill met +with a promise to send the oak box to him by an +early train the next morning, and to set to work at +once to find out any and every detail she could concerning +the first Wilhelmina. When at last Mr. +Stevens, again handing her the buckles, told her that +her method of payment was not according to custom, +she was still not nonplussed. “Shall I get them +sold,” she asked, “and give you the money?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not; don’t attempt to sell them. And +listen to me: I should not in any circumstances +undertake this business for you; I will examine the +contents of the box if you like, and tell you how I +think you stand; but I would not undertake the +case, which is completely out of my range. I am a +country lawyer with quite as much country work as I +can do; I am not a very young man, not a very +poor one, and not at all an ambitious one. I have +neither the time nor the inclination for such a piece +of work as this.”</p> + +<p>“But you could find someone who would do it?” +Bill asked, not in the least impressed by the gravity +of his manner.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I could,” he said, smiling in spite of +himself. “But even if I were to find someone, and +there really was something for that someone to do, +you must see that there are a good many things to +settle before it comes to terms. When, and if, it +does your cousin is the proper person to be consulted.”</p> + +<p>But Bill did not agree with him there. She +pointed out that the affair was hers and the buckles +hers; still she conceded that Polly could be talked +to, and, since he wished it, she would take the +buckles back to town. She put them in her pocket +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span>again, to the no small uneasiness of Mr. Stevens, +although, as she herself said, they were too big to +drop out, and no one would expect to find anything +of value in her pocket.</p> + +<p>She was about to leave, by no means dissatisfied +with the interview, when Mr. Stevens made a remark +which caused her to pause. After saying that she +must not make sure of her position, and that he +himself could give her no hope until he had examined +the contents of the oak box, he concluded: “And +even if everything else proves satisfactory, it is quite +possible you will come to grief over the matter of the +divorce; the other side would be sure to make the +most of that; it will have to be gone into very +thoroughly.”</p> + +<p>Bill stopped on the threshold. “Do you mean,” +she asked, “that you will have to go into it +thoroughly, or that it will have to be done in +public?”</p> + +<p>“I should not have much to do with it, but both +your lawyers and those on the opposite side would +have plenty; it is a point on which a good deal +might turn.”</p> + +<p>“I had not thought of that,” and Bill’s face +clouded.</p> + +<p>“You had better think of it,” the lawyer said, +“for it will certainly arise. You must be sure, and +the other side would insist on being sure, that there +was a divorce; they would want the date of it and +the date of the second marriage and the date of the +birth of the child.”</p> + +<p>“Will they want the name of the first husband?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>“Will it be published in the papers?”</p> + +<p>“It would probably figure in the reports of the case.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span>“Then I am not at all sure the case can ever come +off,” Bill said, to Mr. Stevens’s great astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Because the first husband is alive, and I would +not hurt him for all the world.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens regarded this as a matter of sentiment, +but a sentiment he could honour, though he hardly +knew how to advise. “Well,” he said at last, “you +need not, and indeed cannot, do anything for a long +time. I will look over your papers and tell you how +I think you stand, and by that time you will have +been able to decide what you wish to do.”</p> + +<p>But this was not Bill’s manner of going to work at +all. “Thank you very much,” she said, “but I think +I must decide sooner than that. When does the last +up-train leave for London? Eight o’clock, is it? +Thank you, I will decide before that. Perhaps I had +better not come to see you so late; I will write from +town.”</p> + +<p>“My dear young lady,” the lawyer said, moved by +the gravity of her face and manner, “there is no need +to take the matter so seriously, or to do anything in +such a hurry. Send me the box, and afterwards we +will talk over what can be done.”</p> + +<p>But though Bill again thanked him, not disagreeing +with him this time, he was not at all sure that he had +convinced her.</p> + +<p>“It’s a pity if she drops it,” he meditated as he +watched her go down the street. “She would win if +she went in, somehow—and probably do precisely +what she pleased with her fortune when she got it. +She is the kind that does; she would bamboozle the +Court of Chancery and dance through an Act of +Parliament.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVIII.<br> +<small>THE OAK BOX GOES TO WRUGGLESBY.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> waiting-room of a railway-station is not usually +selected as the best place in which to think seriously +over a matter of perplexity. But if the waiting-room +be attached to the station at a very small country +town where trains are infrequent and passengers few, +a worse place might be chosen; it has at least the +merit of freedom from friendly advice. Moreover +the fact of a person sitting there doing absolutely +nothing for an hour or more creates no surprise, as +it is to be presumed he is only waiting for the next +train. On the January afternoon of Bill’s visit to +Wrugglesby she found the waiting-room an admirable +place for quiet thought. When she left Mr. +Stevens’s office she went straight to the station and, +sitting down with her back to the window, tried to +think over the difficulties suggested by the lawyer’s +words.</p> + +<p>The difficulties resolved themselves into one and +one only,—Mr. Dane. The other obstacles to the +success of her undertaking might or might not prove +insurmountable; at any rate Bill would face them +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span>undauntedly with a light heart and a clear conscience. +But Mr. Dane was another matter; she could not +wilfully, and with her eyes open, do what she felt +sure would give him pain; and yet,—how could she +give up this enterprise?</p> + +<p>At this point two stout women entered the waiting-room. +They were going to Darvel by the next +down train in some twenty minutes’ time, and had +walked in three miles from a neighbouring village; +when one walks three miles the balance of a spare +half-hour is not much to allow for catching a train. +They were in “nice time,” they told each other, +though they seemed flustered and annoyed when +they found the booking-office still closed. Bill heard +what they said without understanding, just as she saw +them without perceiving; she sat looking straight +before her though her true gaze was inwards. They +glanced at her once or twice. “A natural, poor +thing,” was the conclusion they came to. “They +didn’t oughter let her be about alone like that,” was +their final opinion as she rose from her seat and +walked out of the waiting-room.</p> + +<p>Bill left the station, turned out of the main street, +and took the road to Ashelton. She had decided +what to do: she would go to Mr. Dane, not to ask +his permission to claim her connection with the Corby +family and consequently to drag him and his past +before the eyes of his neighbours, but to tell him her +story and ask his advice. She loved him so well that +she felt sure he would give his advice without prejudice; +she was absolutely certain that he would not +misunderstand or misjudge. She started on her walk +with a comparatively quiet mind, not an absolutely +quiet one, for she knew she must give a full confidence +or none at all. She must tell all, even including that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span>which concerned Kit Harborough, and the dream +which was a dream no more.</p> + +<p>At first Bill thought of nothing but what she had +to tell, but bit by bit the solitude of the road and the +exhilaration of the exercise soothed her so that she +thought no more. Six miles of lonely road, a level +country wide spread and bare on either hand, a silent +wintry afternoon with the suggestion of twilight +gathering before the village was reached,—what more +could one ask to minister to a mind diseased? +Nothing in Bill’s opinion, as she walked the six miles +in something under an hour and a half, without a +single doubt of her ability to walk them back again +after dark and her pleasure in doing it.</p> + +<p>But she did not walk those six miles back; the +proprietor of the White Horse at Ashelton received +a request during the evening for the little cart and +old pony for Mr. Dane. And it is to be presumed +he drove Bill to Wrugglesby in time for the eight +o’clock train, for some sort of vehicle brought her to +the station in time for that train, and a little after +eight o’clock Mr. Dane rang at the private house of +Stevens the lawyer.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stevens wanted very much to know what +had brought Mr. Dane to see her husband at that +time in the evening. She had a great opinion of +Mr. Dane, of whom she knew little, and of his +Family (with a capital F), of which she knew less. +She and Mr. Johnson had conferred more than +once on the subject of the relative who was a lord +and the other relative who was a bishop, and the +mystery why Mr. Dane himself was—if not a bishop +or a lord—at least something more than a country +parson. On that particular evening, after Mr. Dane +had left, Mrs. Stevens naturally wished to know the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span>reason of his visit; first she sought indirectly for +information and learned nothing; then she asked +boldly what had brought him there that night.</p> + +<p>“A small pony-cart, my dear,” Mr. Stevens said +amiably; “and the same vehicle has taken him away +again. I hope he will reach his destination safely, +for he is not as young as he was and the night is +dark, though the pony, I must admit, looks a safe +beast.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stevens, being somewhat annoyed by this +answer, condescended to no more questions and +maintained a dignified silence for the rest of the +evening,—a proceeding which it is to be feared did +not greatly trouble Mr. Stevens, since he was so +completely engrossed in his own meditations that he +was not aware of it. After Mrs. Stevens had gone +to bed he poked the fire into a blaze and observed +to the crackling coals: “You were a fool, Wilhelmina +the first, a fool! You threw away a very fine +and noble gentleman for your gipsy lover.” And +being a country lawyer of somewhat prosaic practice, +and being also a man of genial sympathies, he once +more gave himself up to meditations on the story +which had been told him that night.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Dane, having reached home in safety, +also thought a little of the story which had been +revived that night. But not for long; he resolutely +put it away from him as he put away the diamond +buckles Bill had left. She had left them on purpose +and with a definite understanding. “You must +keep them, Monseigneur,” she said. “I can reclaim +them, if I ever have the money, and if you do not +sell them before. I cannot have you undertake this +great thing for me unless you will have them as a +sort of guarantee; I would rather you kept them; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span>it is better so.” So he kept them, for after he had +seen how she carried them loose in her pocket and +heard how she kept them in a hole in the kitchen-wall, +he also thought that it was better so.</p> + +<p>Bill went back to London without her buckles, +but Polly was not aware of the fact. Indeed Polly +did not hear anything much about the visit to +Wrugglesby that evening, for Bill did not reach +home till late, too late to tell all about it, she said, +and put off the explanation till the next day, when +she promised to tell Polly everything. Bella was +rather disappointed by this arrangement for she would +be out then,—at the dressmaker’s in the morning and +at Mrs. James Brownlow’s in the afternoon. It +must be admitted that, fond as Bill was of her cousin, +Bella’s absence suited her well, for she wanted to have +a long and somewhat difficult talk with Polly.</p> + +<p>Bella went out early, and early also went the little +oak box by rail to Wrugglesby, carefully addressed +and properly insured as Mr. Stevens had impressed +upon Bill it must be. Before it went she pulled off +the chintz cover from the top and took one thing +from the inside; not a document or deed, or even +one of her mother’s recipes, only a fossil sea-urchin +found on the beach at Bymouth on a sweet September +morning. She hid it away among her linen; then +she nailed down the lid of the box, tied a rope round +it, and sent it away.</p> + +<p>Polly did not know it had gone until later when +Bill told her in the course of their talk. This talk +did not prove so difficult as Bill had anticipated, for +Polly was quick to grasp the possibilities of the +case. It was true, Bill had acted without her consent +and in a measure outraged her in her part of guardian; +but Polly was not always playing that part, and she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span>was, as the late Mr. Brownlow had said, a capital +woman of business; when it came to plain facts +apart from appearances, Bill’s conduct and communication +wore a very different aspect. As Polly said: +“You risk nothing; even if you lose you are no +worse off than you were except for those diamond +buckles—” (here, in spite of a previous and very +eloquent statement of her opinion of Bill’s giving +them up, Polly could not forbear from making a +short digression and recapitulation of her sentiments)—“except +for those buckles, you lose nothing since +Mr. Dane is going to advance the money and take +all the trouble. You are quite sure he means you +only to pay if you win? You lose nothing if you +fail and if you succeed—well!”</p> + +<p>The prospect seemed almost too much for Polly, +and Bill forbore to mention any of her own plans +regarding the money, should she win it. Polly, of +course, had something to say about the way in which +she had not been consulted, though not much, for, +as she admitted, Bill “had done very well”; moreover, +she was somewhat mollified by the nominal +share in future transactions which Bill assured her +would be hers. Bill explained matters as clearly as +she could to Polly’s great satisfaction and sufficient +enlightenment. In a matter of this sort Polly was +quick to grasp the essential points, and in a matter +of any sort even quicker to accommodate herself to +the part she was to play. There was one thing, +however, which Polly did not understand, and which +Bill would not explain,—the reason that had induced +Mr. Dane to follow such an extraordinary course as +he had, and not only to give his sanction to the +proceedings but also to lend active and financial +assistance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span>“I can’t tell you,” was all Bill would say; “you +would not understand. I hardly know myself and I +certainly can’t explain. I can’t talk about him, he +is,—he is too good.”</p> + +<p>Polly was not satisfied, but she could get no other +explanation, and when Bill left her after some rather +able though unsuccessful cross-examination, she +hurled after her as a parting shot: “It is a very +peculiar thing, Bill, very peculiar indeed, the way in +which elderly gentlemen do things for you. One +gives you a pair of diamond buckles, and another is +undertaking a law-case for you. It is most peculiar, +not to put too fine a point upon it,—most peculiar!”</p> + +<p>And though Polly went to the kitchen-door and +raised her voice so that Bill, who had gone up-stairs, +should not lose any of the remark, she still contrived +to throw a vast deal of meaning into the last words +and the sniff which followed them. But Bill, if she +heard, did not answer, which was wise; and Polly, +who was too satisfied with the results of Bill’s +“peculiarity” to trouble very much about explanations, +went back to her work and asked no more +unanswerable questions.</p> + +<p>Bella and Theresa had to be taken into confidence +of course, but neither of them thought the matter so +important as Bill and Polly did. It was interesting +to know all about Bill’s people, but the substantial +benefits to be reaped from it seemed uncertain and +shadowy. “It was all rather improbable and unwise,” +Theresa said, while Bella, being full of her +own concerns, hardly understood what was being +discussed; and both sisters entirely failed to realise +the value of success should it ever be attained.</p> + +<p>“They are so stupid,” Polly once said impatiently; +“they don’t grasp anything out of their own groove. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span>I’ve no patience with either of them; they are +thorough Brownlows, without an ounce of vitality +between them. They’re all right so long as you put +them in ordinary circumstances,—a decent house +with a decent servant, decent meals at regular hours, +and a decent husband to come home at regular times +and provide the money. But as for striking out a +line for themselves, or saving a situation, or doing or +even understanding anything which is out of their +ordinary rut or wants a small amount of enterprise, +they simply can’t do it!”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed a little, though she could not deny +the truth of at least part of the indictment. She +could not deny to herself either that this same +characteristic of the sisters made it easier for her to +carry through, unquestioned and undisturbed, the +enterprises which they could neither undertake nor +understand. However, she did not remark on this +to Polly, but merely said: “I think Bella and T. are +both rather occupied with their own concerns just +now.”</p> + +<p>Polly would not allow this excuse to Theresa, +though she admitted it might hold good for Bella, +whose wedding-day was so near. Bella’s wedding +occupied all their minds about this time, Polly being +determined that it should be of suitable though quiet +magnificence. “Of course we are still in mourning,” +she said, “or at least we can reckon we are; Aunt +was almost like a mother to us, besides an out of +mourning wedding would cost so much. As it is, we +can make a very good show indeed at a reasonable +price. And I mean to do it too, Bill; we are quite +as good as the Dawsons, and I’m not going to let +them think we are not.” And Polly made all the +preparations in her power; her chief cause of trouble +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span>being that, since Bella was to be married at Ashelton, +she herself could not be at the base of operations very +long beforehand.</p> + +<p>Bella left town early in February, in the company +of Jack, who had come to town on business. When +Polly heard of his coming she regretted that she +could not offer him the hospitality she had offered +Gilchrist, but her house was too full now to allow of +it. However, Jack came to see them and stopped +some time, and was, as Polly said, “as pleasant as +possible and quite different from Mr. Gilchrist Harborough.” +Indeed, Jack, instead of disapproving of +Bill’s working, insisted on helping her to clear the +table, making much fun over it. He always seemed +to regard Bill as a jolly little school-girl not to be +taken seriously; that day he teased her about the +apples she took to eat in the train on her journey to +Bymouth. Bill told him they were Polly’s, but he +would not believe her, and they laughed over it for +some time. Later on, however, she became serious +and asked him some questions about the Harborough +lawsuit. Of late Jack had become somewhat intimate +with Gilchrist; Bill had gathered this from Bella’s +talk, and thinking that, if anyone could tell her of +the present condition of the Harborough case, Jack +could, she questioned him on it.</p> + +<p>“Why, Lady of Law,” he exclaimed when he +found out how much she knew of the original claim, +“you seem to know a good deal about it already!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I heard all about that part,” she told him; +and he remembered that Gilchrist had been very +often to Haylands during the summer, so often that +he had once thought there was some sort of an +understanding between Bill and the Australian, +though latterly he had begun to doubt it. “I am +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span>afraid,” he said, thinking her interest in the case was +on Gilchrist’s account, “I am afraid your friend +won’t get this affair settled in a hurry; there seem to +be a hundred and one things to prove.”</p> + +<p>“Yes? What? Tell me.”</p> + +<p>He smiled at her earnestness. “Let me see,” he +said, “what shall I tell you? I have heard about it +no end of times, but I am not so very much the wiser +and I’m sure you won’t be; still here goes. The +lawyers now, I believe, are busy trying to find out +whether this precious rule of the youngest son inheriting +applies to sons only, or whether it can be extended +to other relations when the sons give out.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t it? I should have thought it could.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but you’re not a lawyer; lawyers don’t +think, they prove. They say sometimes the extension +is allowed and sometimes it is not, according +to early arrangement or tradition or something; they +have got to find out how the first Harborough had +his affairs arranged. Then another question they are +busy about is how much old Harborough knew of +the existence of another claimant, and I don’t see +how they are ever to discover that under the circumstances. +Things are rather mixed altogether; for +instance, your friend’s father was born in 1845, old +Harborough came into the property that same year, +and that year also there died his youngest brother, +the one who should have had the property,—that is +what I call indecently crowding events to no purpose. +Then the old man’s will seems likely to prove another +bone of contention,—whether he had a right to make +a will, why he made it, whether he believed his +position insecure and made it to strengthen it, or +whether he thought it secure and made it in good +faith,—oh, it is a lovely tangle I can tell you! +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span>Harborough has talked to me about it till I have +completely forgotten which party wants to prove +what, and have got so mixed myself that I have gone +home deciding to sow estates-tail in the home-field, +drain the pond and turn it into an estate in fee simple +to settle on my bonny bride.”</p> + +<p>He drew Bella’s hand into his own as he spoke, +and it was easy to see from their faces that there +would be no more discussion of the Harborough case +for the present. But Bill could not forbear asking +one last question: “I suppose it will take a long +time to settle?”</p> + +<p>“Years! You’ll have time to grow up twice over +before they are done squabbling, and Bella will be a +staid and sober matron by the time the decision is +given.”</p> + +<p>Bella combated this opinion, not because she +doubted the length of the Harborough lawsuit but +because she vowed she would never be staid and +sober. A conversation natural to the circumstances +ensued, and lasted until Jack and Bella left the house +together.</p> + +<p>It was of course quite out of the question for both +Bill and Polly to attend Bella’s wedding, as they +could not leave the house to take care of itself, so it +had been arranged for Bill to stay and Polly to go. +It was really important that she should be present at +the function, if for no other reason than her own +belief that Bella and Theresa would not be equal to +the situation and the Dawson family in its strength. +“They would never manage without me,” Polly said +with conviction. “I shall go down a day or two +beforehand,—I really must, to see after things. You +can do here quite as well as I can, and no one need +know you are alone; I am not afraid to trust you, as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[375]</span>I know you can take very good care of yourself and +the house.”</p> + +<p>To this Bill agreed. “Of course I shall be all +right,” she said. “You had better stay as long as +Bella and Theresa want you.”</p> + +<p>But Polly had decided not to remain after the +wedding. “There will be no need for me to do +that,” she said. “I shall go several days before to +see that everything is arranged properly and I shall +come back directly after. Or,—no, on second +thoughts, I think it had better be the day after; it +would perhaps be nicer if I waited till the day after, +as there will be such a lot of clearing up to do.”</p> + +<p>Bill heard this last decision with a smile, she knew +that Polly’s “clearing up” would mean a substantial +hamper-shaped addition to her luggage. But she +said nothing, as she knew Theresa would not mind, +and Polly fulfilled her plan exactly. She went to +Wrugglesby three days before the wedding with the +most wonderful costume that even her ingenuity had +ever compassed, safely packed in a cardboard box and +placed on the seat beside her.</p> + +<p>Polly’s work, and she certainly did work during +those three days, was not in vain. Bella’s wedding +was in every way successful. The Dawson family +was properly impressed with the desirability of the +new connection; Mrs. Dawson was almost satisfied, +and Miss Gladys Dawson charmingly (and unpleasantly) +put in her place by the presiding genius. Polly +really was in her element that day and showed to the +best advantage. Mrs. Stevens was warm in her +praises, and even Gilchrist Harborough, who was +there more as the bridegroom’s friend than the +bride’s, thought that his former opinion of Miss +Hains had been unjust.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[376]</span>“It really was as nice a wedding as I have ever +seen,” was Miss Gruet’s opinion, and in the main +Ashelton agreed with her, finding in the event a +delightful subject of conversation during the lengthening +days.</p> + +<p>“It is quite <i>the</i> event of the spring,” Miss Minchin +said gaily. So it was in Ashelton, and beyond Ashelton +the ladies did not take very much account.</p> + +<p>Beyond Ashelton, at the little house at Bayswater, +there was another event, and one of such interest to +those concerned that even Polly for a time regarded +Bella’s wedding as of secondary importance. Mr. +Stevens had examined the contents of Bill’s box and +found that the deed dated 1799 was indeed the +counterpart of the lease granted by Roger Corby in +the year that Peter Harborough was shot. Mr. +Dane, acting upon this information, had been to a +certain old established firm of solicitors in London +and had seen the senior partner. He was not the +man who, something more than forty years ago, had +helped to cut the bond Wilhelmina Corby had tried +to break for herself; nevertheless he soon knew all +about it, for it was recorded in the annals of the firm +and only needed to be looked up. Looked up it +accordingly was, together with other events, dates, +and certificates; and the lease and the information +and everything else there was to place were placed +in the hands of this lawyer who, at Mr. Dane’s +request, undertook the case Mr. Stevens had refused. +Altogether, what with one thing and another, things +were progressing surprisingly well, and Polly and Bill +had good reason to congratulate themselves.</p> + +<p>Before the spring was over Mr. Briant of Sandover +felt the consequences of the energy and inquiry Bill +had provoked, for he received the most unwelcome +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[377]</span>intelligence that a descendant of the Corbys existed +and claimed, in a purely legal and formal manner, a +large piece of his valuable Sandover estate. He did +not believe the claim genuine; and then he did not +believe it could be substantiated; and in any case he +was, if possible, going to contest it, for he had always +believed there were no legitimate descendants of the +Corbys left.</p> + +<p>“It rains lawsuits,” he grumbled once; “before +Kit Harborough is through with his trouble I am let +in for one. Although,” so he added to a friend, +“between you and me, I should be glad to see the +boy clear of his business half as well as I shall be of +Mary Ann Hains, guardian of somebody Corby’s +granddaughter.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[378]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIX.<br> +<small>POLLY PROVES A TRUE PROPHET.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was in June that the accident happened, early +June, but the season was warm that year and already +the little white roses were in bloom. They were in +bloom the year of Theresa’s marriage,—white roses +for the wedding, and now, with but one other June +to intervene, white roses for the burying. It was +Bill who thought of this, not Theresa, although +Theresa, smelling the scent of the flowers under the +window, thought of her wedding-day as she sat +waiting that night.</p> + +<p>She shivered a little as she recollected; it may +have been at her thoughts, it may have been with +cold, for the air was chilly. It was very late; she +rose, and going to the window closed it, shutting out +the sweet scents of the night. Then she glanced at +the clock,—how late it was!—past twelve,—Robert +had never been so late before. Surely nothing could +have happened to him? Nothing ever happened; +he was late, that was all, and she sat down again with +a set look on her face.</p> + +<p>There was a letter in her work-basket; she had +read it once, but something made her put her sewing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[379]</span>down and take it from its envelope to read again. +It was from Bella, who had gone to spend a few +days with some relations of her husband’s at Kensington. +How happy Bella seemed! How delighted +that Jack was going to join her that day! It was +such a pleasant letter, though it told little. Theresa +read it and folded it, smiling as she did so; then for +a moment she sat listening, thinking she heard the +sound of a horse’s feet. The road was not near, but +the night was so still that she could almost have +heard in her present state of tension. She might be +mistaken, but there was certainly a sound of some +kind. Wheels,—someone driving home—then she +was mistaken, for Robert was riding to-night; this +must be some other wayfarer, perhaps Gilchrist +Harborough come down by the mail from London. +She set herself to watch again; the sound of the +wheels had passed now, the vehicle may have driven +out of earshot, or it may have paused by the gate +where the road was dark. The last must have been +the case for, after a moment, she caught the sound +again; perhaps the horse started suddenly, for the +noise was much plainer now. It was coming nearer—surely +there was not some one driving up to the +house?</p> + +<p>She rose quickly, a nameless dread at her heart, +and went into the hall. There she paused a moment +listening; the noise of wheels came nearer, then +ceased, and through the closed door she heard, or her +over-wrought senses told her she heard, the sound of +a horse breathing. A man came up the steps; she +heard him as she stood there, her hand upon the +door, nerving herself to meet she knew not what. +He stopped, and she opened the door to find herself +face to face with Gilchrist Harborough.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[380]</span>For a second he shrank from her, and in the starlight +she saw it.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she asked with lips that seemed too +dry to speak.</p> + +<p>“Robert has been hurt,” he answered, avoiding +her eyes. “I—I have brought him home.”</p> + +<p>“Hurt?”</p> + +<p>Her voice rang distinct, almost sharp, and Harborough +knew the question she was asking herself, +although she was too loyal to put it to him.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he answered, meeting her eyes now; “he +has been hurt, badly hurt, I am afraid.”</p> + +<p>“Badly? How badly?” Fear was whitening +her face and quickening her perceptions. “You +don’t mean—oh Robert!—Why, I can see him out +there! Robert!”</p> + +<p>She passed Harborough and would have gone +down the steps but he stopped her. “That is Dr. +Bolton,” he said gently; “I brought him with me. +Robert is there,—but,—you can’t see him.”</p> + +<p>She leaned against the door-post and caught her +breath, searching his face with questioning eyes. +“He is dead?”</p> + +<p>He felt the words were spoken, though he hardly +heard them. “Come in here,” he said gently. He +led her to the room she had just left, and put her +unresisting in a chair.</p> + +<p>“Dead,” she whispered, “dead?” Her breath +was coming in gasps; she shook a little, but she did +not weep or faint. For some reason Gilchrist was +afraid to look at her; he moved to the door. “Are +you going to bring him in?” she asked in that same +low, breathless voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Up-stairs?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[381]</span>“It would be better.” That was the doctor’s +voice outside; both the doors were open and he had +heard what was said.</p> + +<p>“You will want a light; there is none in the +room.”</p> + +<p>She had risen as she spoke, but the doctor, seeing +her white strained face, said: “No, no, wait here; +Harborough will go up first, and set a light.”</p> + +<p>She paid no heed to him, but tried to light a little +hand-lamp. Gilchrist took the matches from her +trembling fingers and, lighting it for her, put it into +her hand. She gave him a look of thanks and then +went slowly up-stairs.</p> + +<p>It was early the next morning when Bill received +the telegram that summoned her to Ashelton. That +Bill should be summoned both annoyed and surprised +Polly; she objected to parting with her for one +reason, and for another she considered that she +herself was the right person to be sent for in an +emergency. “I don’t see what good you can do,” +she said.</p> + +<p>But Bill did not argue the point; she looked at +the time-table, and then went up-stairs to dress for +the journey. Polly picked up the telegram and +having read it again followed Bill. “‘Come at once, +Mrs. Morton wants you. Harborough.’” She read +the message aloud to Bill when she reached her room. +“What has Gilchrist got to do with it, I should like +to know?”</p> + +<p>“Robert is ill, I expect,” Bill said. “If it were +Theresa, Robert would have sent the telegram; +but as neither of them did, I expect Robert is ill.”</p> + +<p>“Robert ill!” Polly sniffed contemptuously, then +with the air of a prophet who sees his evil prognostications +fulfilled, she added: “It is very likely you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">[382]</span>are right; he never was much good. Still I don’t see +why Gilchrist Harborough should telegraph for you; +he has no connection with the matter, neither have you.”</p> + +<p>“Jack and Bella are away. I expect Gilchrist is +looking after things; he would be very good in an +emergency.”</p> + +<p>Bill got her dress out of the cupboard as she +spoke, and Polly looked at the telegram again. +“Robert’s not ill,” she said with sudden conviction; +“he’s dead!” Bill, from the wording of the telegram, +thought it just possible too; still she did not +say so, and Polly went on: “I always said he would +die young and die suddenly; now he has done it and +probably left Theresa very badly off.”</p> + +<p>Bill was used to seeing Polly in moral undress by +this time; the elder cousin did not always think it +necessary to keep up appearances with the younger +now that she knew how little the girl appreciated or +was deceived by them. Bill had so often been treated +to Polly’s unvarnished opinion of late that she was +not much surprised by her way of regarding the +possible death of Theresa’s husband.</p> + +<p>“Really I never saw anyone so unlucky as we are,” +Polly was saying; “no sooner do we get Bella settled +than we have Theresa thrown back on our hands. It +is hard, just as we are beginning to get on a little +too, and make things pay. You and I have worked +things up and managed splendidly, and this is our +reward! It seems to me that, manage as we may, +we shall never reap any benefit from it. We can +work and it seems we always may. As for those +Warings, I have no patience with them!”</p> + +<p>“So it seems, since you won’t wait to hear how +Robert is before deciding not only his death, but his +widow’s future as well.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">[383]</span>“Oh, I know he is dead,” Polly said irritably as +she followed the younger girl down-stairs. And +Bill felt nearly sure of it too, even before she got +to Wrugglesby station and saw Sam, who had been +sent to meet her. When she saw him there was +room for doubt no longer.</p> + +<p>On the homeward drive he told her all he knew +about the accident. The master had gone to +Wrugglesby yesterday and returned late; he was +riding a skittish young horse and must have been +thrown and probably killed on the spot. Mr. Harborough, +who had come from London by the mail-train, +drove home along the same road and found +him, but it was thought he must have been lying +there for several hours. Dr. Bolton had been called +up and came with Mr. Harborough to Haylands; +but it was quite useless, the master was beyond +help when he was found; “and the missus”—so +Sam concluded—“was somethin’ terrible, quite +stunned, not sheddin’ so much as a tear.”</p> + +<p>Bill could believe that; it seemed to her quite +natural that Theresa should be stunned. But when +she reached Haylands it seemed just as natural that +Theresa, when she met her and put her arms round +her, should burst into a paroxysm of weeping. Bill +wept with her of course; it was her nature; but she +wept for the pity of life’s tangle, while Theresa wept +for the husband dead last night and the lover dead +months ago, for the widowhood of name which had +fallen upon her now and the widowhood of heart +which had fallen long before; wept for her grief and +her loss and her double grief that the loss and grief +were not greater, and for all combined till thought +was vague and her heart was eased.</p> + +<p>So she wept, and no longer dreaded that the world, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">[384]</span>seeing her grief, should also see that which lay +behind. She had feared lest the secret she had +guarded during Robert’s life should be revealed after +his death. It was for this reason she would not have +Polly or Bella or anyone but Bill,—Bill whose eyes +were not quick to mark anything amiss. The others +might discover or think, but Bill—no one minded +Bill. And then, when Bill came with her sympathy +and her pliant changing nature, there suddenly +seemed no secret to hide, nothing amiss which could +be marked—all was melted in a gush of tears.</p> + +<p>Thus Theresa became widow indeed, and though +she sorrowed as such she was all the better for the +sorrowing. Quite unconsciously she turned to the +girl, whom she still persisted in regarding as a child, +for comfort and help. Bill gave all the comfort she +could, listened when Theresa told her how Robert +went out yesterday and she had not said good-bye; +wept when Theresa wept over this omission and over +the hundred trifles which seemed to speak of his +presence still near,—his pipe on the mantelpiece, his +whip behind the door, his dog waiting wistfully in +the hall. Bill listened, but she also worked, for that +suited her best. Theresa was really prostrate with +grief; so Bill assumed, by the quiet right of the one +who can, the management of the household, and the +management so assumed remained with her some time.</p> + +<p>It was during the days which followed that Gilchrist +Harborough found himself thinking that Bill, +viewed in a light other than that of prospective wife, +had something to recommend her. He had not seen +her since the December day when she cancelled their +engagement; but in the time that followed Robert’s +death he saw her often, for she stayed at Ashelton +till the summer was well advanced. Polly wanted +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">[385]</span>her back in town, but she was obliged to allow that +Theresa needed her more at Haylands. Very reluctantly +she gave permission for Bill to remain; very +reluctantly, with the wages Bill forfeited by absence, +she hired a girl to help with the work. And Bill +spent a second June at Haylands, very unlike the +first, excepting only that she saw Gilchrist Harborough +often, though even in seeing him there was +one great and essential difference, for they met now +on a new footing, a footing much nearer equality.</p> + +<p>Jack was a good brother-in-law, but Greys was +some way from Haylands, and he, being but recently +married, and having besides a great deal of land to +look after, found it somewhat difficult to give +Theresa’s farm the supervision it required. Harborough +lived much nearer, had more time and +possibly more inclination, for the lawsuit did not +occupy so much of his attention just now, therefore +he came often to Haylands that summer, and in +coming, met Bill often, but always in her working +capacity; a capacity, he thought, which suited her so +well that he wondered how he had ever come to think +of her,—the most able collaborator man could wish,—as +wife.</p> + +<p>But Theresa’s domestic arrangement, admirable as +she found it, did not suit Polly at all. To begin +with she did not find the girl at all an efficient substitute +for Bill, and to go on with she “wanted to +know how it was all going to end.” Bill also wanted +to know that, not because she found the arrangement +any less pleasant than did Theresa, but because it was +her custom to plan several miles in advance of the +elder cousin’s range of vision. So, before Theresa +had contemplated the future as a working possibility, +Bill had answered Polly’s enquiries.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">[386]</span>“I’m afraid,” so she wrote, “things are not much +better than you expected; Theresa will be left very +badly off. Still, I think she will most likely have a +little, so there is a certain amount of choice as to +what is to be done; I have not properly talked it +over with her so I do not know if she has any +wishes. As far as I can see we three (she and you +and I) must live together; we can’t afford two +houses, but together I believe we might live here or +in town. If we stop here we should have to give +up most of the land, only keeping enough for a +certain amount of dairy work. The dairy, with pigs, +poultry, and vegetable growing, I reckon would keep +us in food and pretty well pay the rent—I believe +this could be made to answer. We could have a +boarder in the summer if you liked. Of course the +other choice is for you and me to go on as before +and take Theresa in; I don’t know what else can be +done, unless she goes to Jack and Bella, which seems +hardly fair.”</p> + +<p>Polly read this letter and digested it thoughtfully, +and her thoughts, it is to be feared, were not so +much for the common good as for her own personal +comfort, and that did not incline her towards going +to Ashelton. She preferred town to country; she +liked her present life in many respects, and she +certainly did not relish the idea of making pigs and +poultry pay with Bill’s assistance, not because she +thought they would not pay but because she knew +quite well that the assistance would be on the wrong +side in such a venture. Theresa she did not consider +in the matter, and fortunately for her, Theresa +had no very strong wishes; she did not greatly care +whether she remained at Haylands or went to +London; it seemed to her that her life had been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">[387]</span>snapped and could go on as well, or as ill, in one +place as another. Jack was in favour of giving up +the farm, pronouncing Bill’s scheme to be a mad +one. Gilchrist, who knew Bill better, was not so +sure of that; but he saw that it would entail much +hard work on all, on Theresa, who in his opinion +was not fit for it, as well as on Bill who was. Therefore, +as the general voice was with Polly, she carried +the day, to her own great satisfaction, and at +Michaelmas the farm was given up.</p> + +<p>It is not to be supposed that Bill remained undisturbed +at Haylands all the summer. She was +merely keeping Theresa company, and when Bella’s +husband spared her to do that for a time, Bill, very +reluctantly, returned to town, to Polly and her +domestic difficulties. It is hard, when one can do +work and has half done it, that it should be taken +away and given to another, who not only cannot do +it but does not recognise that it exists to be done. +Bill did not want her work recognised, but she did +want to finish it; but since that was impossible there +was no choice but to silently resign it half-finished, +without a hope of its being anything but wasted by +the one who came after. So she went back to town, +and Bella, it is to be feared, fulfilled her anticipations; +the seed plants died, the vegetables languished, the +ducks laid away, and the poultry intermarried disastrously. +Later on Polly went down to Haylands, +for a rest, she said; and Bill did not ask her to +look after any of her pet projects, thinking perhaps +that it would only be useless. When Polly returned +she did enquire how the fruit was that year, and +was told that the trees were breaking with the weight +of plums.</p> + +<p>“Does no one pick them?” Bill asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">[388]</span>“Some of them,” Polly told her; “but fruit +fetches so little this year; it is not worth a man’s +time to pick it, at least so Gilchrist says, and he is +managing everything, you know.”</p> + +<p>Bill was not thinking of Gilchrist’s management +but of private enterprise; Polly was thinking of +something quite different and it was she who spoke +first. “Did it strike you, Bill,” she said, “that +Gilchrist takes a great interest in Theresa and her +affairs?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course; he likes managing, and he does +it thoroughly.”</p> + +<p>But this was not what Polly meant at all and she +said so. “What I want to know,” she concluded, +“is, why did he begin it? Why does he do it?”</p> + +<p>“Because it wanted doing, and because he can do +it. Somehow or other the people who can do things +always have to do them whether it is their business +or not; they have a sort of right to the jobs that +want doing.”</p> + +<p>This was not Polly’s opinion. “It’s my belief,” +she said, “that he has an interest in what he does.”</p> + +<p>“An interest? He does not get the profits.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Polly retorted impatiently, “but Theresa +does; that’s his interest.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean he is fond of Theresa?” Bill +asked in astonishment.</p> + +<p>Polly did, and explained herself at some length, +without convincing Bill who, when she had come to +the conclusion that this was only one of Polly’s +fancies, went back to the subject of the plums. Polly +was not interested in plums, and when Bill asked +if she and Theresa picked any, answered snappishly, +“No, we did not; we did not choose to spend our +days up ladders.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">[389]</span>A recollection of last year lent viciousness to this +remark; Bill remembered last year too and sighed. +Had she been at Ashelton early enough very likely +there would have been a repetition of the plum-selling. +But she was not there in time to do anything, for, +though she did go down to Haylands to help Theresa +to pack at the last, the fruit was practically over. It +was a bad year for apples; there were hardly any in +the orchard at Haylands, and Bill saw at once, when +she went to look round, that there was nothing to be +done with them. As for the plums, they were a +real grief to her when she saw them lying rotten on +the grass beside the branches which the heavy fruit +had broken down.</p> + +<p>“Gilchrist could not look after everything,” she +told herself, “and Theresa would not know.”</p> + +<p>After all, the waste of the plums did not trouble +her so much as did the sight of the withered plants +in the garden, and the raspberry-canes, still loaded +with shrivelled fruit, dried up for want of water. +But bad as the garden was, it was not the worst, for +in one short tour of the stackyard she found, besides +the feathers of many untimely victims of stray cats, +five lots of addled eggs laid and lost in the summer +months. She had her last find of eggs in a basket on +the Saturday afternoon when she went to the orchard +to look for fallen apples. There were not many, but +she picked up what there were and took the eggs to +the ditch to throw them away to make room for the +apples.</p> + +<p>It was just then that Mr. Stevens came by. He +was a busy man, but he sometimes allowed himself +a little holiday on Saturdays in September to shoot a +friend’s partridges; he had been shooting partridges +that day and very good sport he had had to judge +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">[390]</span>from the beaming good-humour he was carrying +back to Wrugglesby.</p> + +<p>When he saw Bill he pulled up. “Good-afternoon,” +he cried; “I didn’t know you were back. +You haven’t been over to see me; don’t you want +to have a talk about your affairs?”</p> + +<p>Bill came to the gate. “There isn’t much to say +about them, is there?” she asked. “I thought +nothing much could be done at this time of year.”</p> + +<p>“Well, no, not much certainly; everybody is out +of town now. Still, if you’d like to have a chat, you +might look in when you’re in Wrugglesby; I’m not +very busy just now.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, I will if I have time; I am only +here for a few days just to help Theresa to pack.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, of course, she is leaving soon, poor thing. +Going to live in London with you, isn’t she?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens felt very sorry for Theresa, of whose +affairs he knew all that was commonly reported and +a little more besides. He felt sorry for Bill, too, +that afternoon; she did not seem to be so cheerfully +and completely satisfied with life as usual.</p> + +<p>“We must make the best of a bad job,” he said +encouragingly, “and look for better times. Let’s +hope your business will be through before Christmas,” +and he shook his reins as if he were going on.</p> + +<p>“Do you think it could be done so soon as that?” +Bill asked with animation.</p> + +<p>“I dare say; I don’t see why not, or at the +latest early in the new year. Woa, my beauty!” +and he pulled up again. “Mr. Briant is a rich man +and can afford to fight as a poorer could not; but +you’re too strong for him, and since the business of +the divorce and remarriage was settled he knows it. +It’s my belief—though as I’m not professionally connected +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">[391]</span>with the case perhaps you will say I have no +right to an opinion—it’s my belief Briant never suspected +a second marriage. But owing to the rector’s +help you have incontestable proofs, and the other +side haven’t a case worth mentioning.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think it will be settled soon?” Bill +asked. “I am very glad; and I am glad, too, that +Mr. Briant is so rich that one need not much mind +taking money from him; even if I win he will still +have plenty left.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Stevens, though he was amused by her +scruples, assured her that she might be quite easy on +that score. “He’ll have plenty,” he said, “plenty, +seeing that he has neither son nor daughter to take it +after him. Bless my soul, he ought to be quite +pleased to make provision for a young lady in that +way!”</p> + +<p>The lawyer laughed as he spoke and Bill laughed +too. “I am afraid he won’t see it in that light,” she +said.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid not either. No; I think if you win +your case you will have to thank your good aunt’s +care in keeping old bills and letters and recipes for +herb-tea. That is what will have the most to do +with it, since she managed to keep with them several +of old Roger’s useless documents, and one valuable +one. Yes, you will have to thank her for her care +and Mr. Dane for his generosity. Good-bye, and a +speedy success to you.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">[392]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXX.<br> +<small>A RELISH WITH TEA.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bella’s</span> baby was born in January, and Theresa +went to Greys’ for the event. Indeed she went +there a good deal before the event, for, if the truth +must be known, life in London with Bill and Polly +was not entirely successful. Two women who have +each had a home of their own do not always get on +when they come to share one between them. Bella +wrote in November inviting Theresa to come to her, +and Polly urged the acceptance of the invitation with +unnecessary warmth. Theresa hesitated a while as to +her duty and then finally accepted it and went. +“And a good thing too,” Polly said frankly.</p> + +<p>She said this to Bill when they were at tea on the +afternoon Theresa left. Polly sat at her ease with +her feet on the fender and her tea-cup on the hob; +she liked this position, and she liked the table drawn +on to the hearth-rug so that she could sit between it +and the fire. Theresa did not approve of such +things; she did not exactly say so, but she looked it, +and when she set the tea-things she never pulled the +table up.</p> + +<p>“It’s all very well, Bill,” Polly went on to say. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">[393]</span>“Theresa may be a very nice person,—I dare say +she is, but she does not do here, and if she is going +to live here she will have to alter a good deal.”</p> + +<p>“She will settle down in time.”</p> + +<p>Polly had her doubts about that and expressed +them; she also expressed a hope that Theresa would +stay with Bella while the settling process went on. +“The longer she stays there the better,” she concluded. +“Perhaps if she is there long enough and +Gilchrist Harborough sees her often enough, he may +marry her and take her to Wood Hall where she +could be as elegant as she pleased without interfering +with me.”</p> + +<p>Bill laughed. “You are in rather a hurry,” she +observed. “Theresa has only been a widow six +months, and Gilchrist has not by any means got +Wood Hall yet. You finish things off rather too +quickly.”</p> + +<p>“I wish somebody else would,” and Polly turned +up her gown to preserve it from the fire.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be too hard on T.,” Bill said rather sadly. +“I don’t believe she is more particular than she used +to be; she always was,—well, you used to call it +ladylike.”</p> + +<p>Polly ignored her own past attitude with regard to +Theresa and only remarked: “I could be ladylike if +someone else did the dirty work. I should like to be +ladylike; but some people can’t have what they wish +in this world; they have to work that others may.”</p> + +<p>“Poor old Polly! I’m so sorry you have had to +do the stoves lately. That place on my finger is +nearly well, and I believe I shall be able to do them +again to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not grumbling about you,” Polly said magnanimously.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">[394]</span>“What is the use of grumbling about anything?” +Bill asked. “It may let off steam, but I believe it +rusts the pipes. Don’t let’s talk about Theresa; let +us talk about hats.”</p> + +<p>Millinery was a subject of perennial interest to +Polly, but to-night she refused to discuss it. “I +don’t know anything about hats,” she said; “how +should I? I haven’t seen anything but these four +walls since I don’t know when.”</p> + +<p>“Why not go to Regent Street to-morrow afternoon?” +Bill suggested. “My finger is really quite +well, so I can do the work and you have not been +out for ages; take an omnibus to Oxford Circus and +go and look at all the shops.”</p> + +<p>This was Polly’s favourite recreation and invariable +panacea for dulness, but she still refused to be cheered. +“What is the use?” she said. “I shall only see a +hat I want and can’t afford.”</p> + +<p>“You will see some new way of trimming up your +old one,” Bill assured her; and though Polly persisted +that she would not go, when the afternoon +came she changed her mind and went.</p> + +<p>It was during Polly’s absence that the great news +came to Bill. Mr. Dane brought it; he had come +to town for a few days on business, he said, probably +on her business. At all events it was fortunate that +his coming to town was at this time, for he was able +to bring the news to Bill in person. Of course Polly +received a formal intimation; Polly always received +formal intimations and requests from the lawyers as +did Mr. Dane; she was the guardian of the plaintiff, +a person of importance, and he was a great factor in +the case, more especially as the lawyers were his +lawyers and the money his money. But Bill was +only the “infant,” so she was not greatly troubled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">[395]</span>with intimations and consultations; and she, in the +first instance, was not the person to be formally +acquainted with the decision of the court. Nevertheless +she was the person to whom Mr. Dane came, +even before Polly had received her legal information +and while that lady was out looking at the bonnet-shops +in Regent Street.</p> + +<p>It was four o’clock when Mr. Dane came. Bill +had no idea of seeing him when she went to answer +his knock; and the sight of him standing on the +doorstep in the November dusk was so unexpected +that she forgot in her delight to wonder why he had +come. She led him to the kitchen, their living-room +now, and gave him Polly’s shabby old arm-chair. +She never thought of apologising; it was the best +she had to offer and so needed no apology; moreover +he was her friend and would expect none.</p> + +<p>“Well, Princess,” he said at last,—at first it had +not seemed possible to speak of his errand—“what +do you think brings me here to-day?”</p> + +<p>Bill looked at him doubtfully for a moment. “I +have something to tell you,” he went on, and then +her whole face became illuminated with understanding. +“Oh, Monseigneur!” she said, clasping her +hands with an eagerness begotten half of hope, half of +fear.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my child,” he said gently, “yes, you have +won. That which Roger Corby gave as a price for +wrong is paid back a hundred fold; and you, you +little Bill, are an heiress in your own right.”</p> + +<p>Bill gave a great gasp. “Thank God,” she said, +“it is in time! Thank God, thank Him, very, very +much!” And there followed a pause; perhaps she +thanked the God who always seemed so close to her. +When she spoke again it was in hushed tones. “It +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">[396]</span>seems very wonderful,” she said. “And,—and I +owe it to you!”</p> + +<p>But Mr. Dane did not think she owed it all to +him; perhaps he shared Mr. Stevens’s opinion and +thought she was the stuff that wins under any circumstances. +As for the particular circumstances of +this case he set them aside, and when she persisted, +her voice quivering with emotion as she recounted +all he had done, he still set them aside. “It seems +a great thing to do, does it?” he said at last. “Ah, +you are young; things look different when you are +young. I am old and I have lived much and loved +much, and outlived much too perhaps, and to me,”—and +he put a tender hand on the glowing hair—“to +me it does not seem such a very great thing to +do for the child of my past, the daughter of consolation +to me.”</p> + +<p>Then she said no more, but she kissed him with +tears in her eyes. Afterwards they talked of this +fortune, and what it would mean, and the debt that +Bill thought she owed to the Harboroughs—to Peter +Harborough, shot, to hide whose death the price +which was the foundation of her fortune had been +paid—to Kit Harborough, whose rival through an act +of hers had learned the claim that he had made,—and +to the old man, last of the Harboroughs of Gurnett, +who slept in the little churchyard among the ferns +where Roger Corby lay.</p> + +<p>It was past five o’clock before Polly returned. +Mr. Dane had left only a little while before, and she +must have almost passed him at the end of the +street, though, if she did, she failed to recognise +him. She did not notice anything particularly until +she reached her own house, and was surprised to see +there were no lights at any of the windows. Miss +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">[397]</span>Scrivens, who now occupied the drawing-room, must +have fallen asleep and forgotten to ring for the +lamp; and Polly decided with some satisfaction that +Bill for once had followed her instructions and not +taken the light until it was rung for. With a +gratified feeling at this unusual display of obedience +she let herself in and went up-stairs; while she was +up-stairs the drawing-room bell rang sharply and Bill +went to answer it. She was still attending to the +lamp, or the lady, when Polly entered the kitchen +and found to her surprise that the tea-tray was not +set.</p> + +<p>“What has the girl been doing?” she muttered as +she went to the dresser. She was reaching up to get +a jug from a high hook when there came a dancing +step behind her and, before she could look round, +Bill’s arms were thrown round her neck from behind +and Bill’s strong hands took hers prisoner.</p> + +<p>“Polly!” she exclaimed, possessing herself of the +jug and then twisting Polly round. “Polly, dear old +Polly! It has come at last! You shall have the +finest hat in all Regent Street even if it’s a salad of +roses with a cockatoo rampant on the top! You +shall have it and we will drive all the way in a hansom +cab to buy it!”</p> + +<p>“Bill! What is the matter with the girl? Bill, +put down that jug and tell me what you mean!”</p> + +<p>“I mean,”—but Bill did not put down the jug, +she filled it with milk instead—“I am going to get +Miss Scrivens’s tea,” she said. “I ought to have +got it before only I have been hindered this afternoon, +and I’m crazy I think. But, oh, Polly! I’ve +got it, got it at last; the money I mean, or at least +as good as got it, it is going to be mine. I expect +you will have to do things and sign things first, but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">[398]</span>the case is decided for us and it is all as good as mine +already!”</p> + +<p>“My dear Bill!” Polly was momentarily overwhelmed +by the news, then she recovered herself and +fetched a tin of sardines from the cupboard. “Oh, +well,” she said, “if that’s the case we can afford to +have a relish with our tea.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_399">[399]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXI.<br> +<small>THE FULFILLING OF THE DREAM.</small></h2> +</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the opinion of certain members of the Chancery +bar the conclusion of the Harborough case was disappointing, +for from a legal point of view, there was +no conclusion. In spite of all that had been said on +both sides, all the facts and traditions and curious +crooks that had come to light, the case was in the +end as far from a legal decision as ever; it was +merely withdrawn. This was the best thing possible +for the litigants and certainly the wisest; still, it was +to be deplored, for a decision would have been +interesting. Apart from the legal aspect the conclusion +could not be regretted; the buying of the +claimant was undeniably wise, and at the same time +almost romantic, for there was something of mystery +about it. Nobody, not even the Harboroughs, knew +who paid for it. Someone, whose name was not +mentioned and who apparently had no personal +interest in the case, found the money, which Gilchrist +accepted in lieu of his chance of the Gurnett estates, +and for the consideration of which he duly undertook +that neither he nor his should ever raise the claim +again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_400">[400]</span>Thus it happened, when the case was well on in +its second year, that all ended and came to nothing, +and Kit Harborough found himself very much where +he used to expect he would be; but with an addition +he did not expect in those days,—a certain price to +pay for having defended his right to be there. +Gilchrist had something to pay too, but it did not so +much matter to him, for he had thought of the costs +when he bargained for the price of his withdrawal. +On the whole he was satisfied with the terms; they +were not so high as he had tried to get, but they +were all his chance was worth to him, and all, +apparently, that the benevolent person unknown was +willing to pay.</p> + +<p>There was one man, in no way connected with the +case, who took a keen interest in that benevolent +person unknown; not so much at the time, but a +little later. In the light of subsequent events Mr. +Stevens chose to find that individual most interesting. +“Unless I am much mistaken,” he once said, though +wisely in no one’s hearing but his own, “there is +stuff for a good Chancery suit in that buying off of +Gilchrist Harborough. Certain persons have been +juggling with the law, or I’m a Dutchman; persons, +too, who should have been above suspicion. Mistress +Wilhelmina has a deal to answer for, bless her wicked +little heart! I wonder how it was done? I’d give +something to know.” But he never did know; +only, in later years, he used sometimes to doubt if +there had been much juggling with the law after all; +if rather a certain childless old man, who was so +much richer than most people knew, had not chosen +secretly to serve a girl in his life instead of benefiting +her after his death. But of this fancy Mr. Stevens +never spoke, for he knew, if it were true, that it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_401">[401]</span>was a secret hidden even from the girl herself, and +he, though only a country lawyer, was a man possessed +of that best wisdom, the knowledge when to +keep silent.</p> + +<p>But all this was long after; at the time when the +Harboroughs’ suit was concluded no one even +suspected who their benefactor might be. The Harboroughs +themselves puzzled over it for some time +and then, as is the nature of man, turned to the consideration +of their own affairs. Those affairs were +identical for both of them in one particular at least,—the +question of Gilchrist’s return to Australia. +It was generally understood among those whom it +concerned that Gilchrist was going back to Australia; +he had said he should go so soon as the case was +settled, but now when it came to the point he did not +seem so sure about it. Kit took a most surprising +interest in his rival’s departure, and he noticed his +hesitation directly the subject was introduced. There +was only one occasion when the two Harboroughs +spoke of the matter, the only occasion on which they +met on purely social terms, the day they lunched +together at Wood Hall. Kit had invited Gilchrist +there as it were to shake hands after the fight, +possibly feeling it his duty to do so. Gilchrist +accepted the invitation, partly for similar reasons, +and partly because he had never been inside Wood +Hall and thought he would rather like to see the old +house for which he had been fighting; coming with +this motive, there is no doubt he also came prepared +to observe critically and to put a market-value on +all he saw.</p> + +<p>“I think I have the best of the bargain,” he told +Theresa afterwards; “the place is in bad repair and +at the best of times would take a lot of keeping up. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_402">[402]</span>Still, I admit it has a charm of its own, a charm +which cannot be bought or exchanged, and would +not, I believe, stand a change of ownership. If the +house were mine, I should do it up, and, I suppose, +change its nature; since it is his, he will let things +remain as they are; he can’t afford to do anything +else, poor beggar! But he will keep the charm and +a few absurd, inimitable, medieval prejudices which +even an enlightened education cannot make us +altogether despise.”</p> + +<p>It is to be feared that Gilchrist was not far from +the truth in his estimate of the poverty likely to reign +at Wood Hall. The estate, crippled before, could +ill afford the money spent in defence of its owner’s +claim to it. Kit knew this, and knew that the +Australian was quick to mark signs of prosperity or +decay.</p> + +<p>The two Harboroughs did not lunch in the big +dining-room where Kit had sat with Bill on the day +that old Mr. Harborough died, but in a smaller, more +modern room where neither length of possession nor +shortness of means stood out so plainly. There was +little here to suggest that evil days had fallen upon +the old place, excepting only the view from the +windows. Gilchrist glanced out once; the pale +February sunlight was wan on the crack in the stone-work +of the terrace, on the unswept leaves of the +autumn and the untouched borders by the wall. +Unconsciously he looked towards his host and observed +him curiously—the well-bred, stoical face, the +grave eyes, the well-finished hands—the whole man +which told so little.</p> + +<p>“Are you going to live here?” he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Probably not.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_403">[403]</span>There was a moment’s silence. Kit was evidently +not communicative on that subject, and Gilchrist +looked out of the window again before giving expression +to the thoughts in his mind. “Pity the +old place should go to pieces!” he said at last. “I +could have saved it—spoiled it, perhaps you would +have said—still, saved its life after a fashion, but +you—”</p> + +<p>“I shall probably go abroad for the next twenty +years; after which, if I am not an inveterate +wanderer by that time, I shall come home and think +about getting some bricks and mortar to mend the +hole in the terrace which we can see so well from +here.”</p> + +<p>Gilchrist laughed, although he was a little annoyed; +he had felt vaguely sorry for Kit and the decline of +the house of Harborough. But Kit kept him well +at arm’s length, and the house of Harborough was +plainly not his concern, so he withdrew his sympathy +from the end he had himself hastened, and the +subject was pursued no further.</p> + +<p>It was then that Kit enquired concerning the +return to Australia, and learned that there was a +good deal of uncertainty connected with the date +of Gilchrist’s departure; indeed, it seemed almost +possible that he would not leave England at all that +year. Kit did not ask why; he knew that it was a +woman’s will and a woman’s preparations that ruled +the time of the Australian’s going. Herein he was +quite right, though he was not right in thinking that +woman Bill Alardy. Bill’s preparations, like her will, +were never long in making; but the woman for +whom Gilchrist waited was different; who is to hurry +a nine months’ widow, and who make love to the +wife of a man whose grave has not long been green?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_404">[404]</span>But of this difficulty Kit knew nothing, and since +he was very well aware that Bill’s betrothal was of a +private nature, he could not make any remark upon +it even had he wished. So he was still unenlightened +as to the name of the woman whose pleasure Gilchrist +waited when a little later the Australian took +his leave.</p> + +<p>Kit went to the door with him, stood on the step +looking after him even when he was out of sight, +stood there until the sound of his horse’s feet had +died away in the distance. The sun was gone now; +ashy clouds had crept over the sky, and all the world +was still and grey with the soft, tired look of endless +afternoon. Kit went down the steps and walked +slowly past the west front of the house; once he +glanced up at the crooked windows and the sloping, +many-peaked roof, but he looked away again quickly +as if the sight hurt him. He reached the end of the +terrace but he did not go back; instead he wandered +aimlessly across the lawn, down the rose-walk, past +the box-edged beds and the yew trees once trimly +clipped into quaint devices. The devices were lost +now, the clipping had not been done for many years. +Bill had once said that, were the trees hers, she would +learn to clip them herself rather than that they should +be left. So she would, too; she would clip the trees +and weed the paths and save the house from its +approaching decay! Gilchrist had said that day he +would have saved it; how could he fail to save it +with her for wife? Old Harborough himself had +testified that she, and such as she, penniless though +they might be, alone could save an exhausted family, a +proud, poor, played-out race.</p> + +<p>Kit had come to the outskirts of the wood now; +he stopped for a moment, not from indecision as to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_405">[405]</span>which path to follow, but because he wished to call a +halt in his mind and force himself to face the truth. +Why should he pretend to look upon Bill as the +saviour of his family, the prop of his house? It is +true she could have been all that, but it was also true +that she was something else to him; not prop nor +saviour, but the only woman the world held. He +had been but a boy eighteen months ago when he +first looked into her eyes; he had grown to manhood +in those eighteen months, but it did not matter, +the look thrilled him still. He had not seen her +since that October day when they pledged each other +to duty, but he had not forgotten; he would never +forget; there are some it is not easy to forget.</p> + +<p>He had been following the footpath that led from +the gardens to the little church, but he turned away +before he reached the low boundary wall and wandered +on through the waste of dead bracken till he struck +the public footpath which gave upon the lane by a +swing-gate. There was someone standing by the +gate, someone with arms resting upon the topmost +bar, and eyes fixed, not upon the path with its +approaching figure, but upon the leafless tree-tops of +the wood.</p> + +<p>For half a second Kit paused, a sensation almost +of fear at his heart—how could she be here in the +flesh? Then, at a bound he had reached the gate; +flesh or phantom, he must see her, must touch her +hand once again.</p> + +<p>“Bill!”</p> + +<p>He had put his hand on the hands on the gate. +They were warm, living hands; he held them fast +and there was no effort made to draw them away. +She did not start nor cry out; she did not move at +all; she only looked up at him, silent yet with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_406">[406]</span>throbbing breast. So they stood, the gate between +them, for the space of a full minute, and the world +seemed to hold but them alone.</p> + +<p>From the main road there came the sound of +horse’s feet, steady, slow-going, some farm-horse on +its way to the blacksmith’s in the village. The +sound of hoofs recalled to Kit the last time he had +heard it and recalled also the thought of the man +who rode away from his house not an hour ago. He +dropped the hands he held almost as if they burnt +him.</p> + +<p>“He cannot—shall not have you!” The words +were hardly spoken; they seemed wrung from him +against his will.</p> + +<p>The discarded hands pulled a splinter off the gate. +“He,—he doesn’t want me”—their owner seemed +much interested in the splinter.</p> + +<p>“Not want you? You—”</p> + +<p>The gate was between them no longer.</p> + +<p>A while later the farm-horse, having been to +the blacksmith’s, was led home by way of the lane; +the man who led him saw no one about the lonely +spot; there was no one by the swing-gate or on the +footpath going to the church, no one visible at all. +In the shelter of the leafless wood, however, there +were two who explained many things. There +were many things which needed explanation they +found,—the mystery of Bill’s freedom, for one, +and Kit’s ignorance of it, for another. The first +was easy to recount; the second Bill found harder +to explain.</p> + +<p>“I could not tell you,” she said at last; “of course +I could not tell you. Do you know the feeling, the +consciousness almost, that you can have and get +whatever you make up your mind to have? That +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_407">[407]</span>has been my feeling so long; but I was afraid to seek +for this; I wanted it to be the free gift of God to +me; I wanted it an unsought gift, or not at all. Do +you understand what I mean?” And in case he did +not, she went on to give another reason. “I have +been getting so much lately,” she said, flashing a shy +smile at him, “getting and willing and taking that I +think I wanted someone to take me.”</p> + +<p>And it is to be presumed that Kit understood the +art of taking her, for the next explanation did not +follow immediately. When it did come it had reference +to Bill’s unexpected appearance at the gate that +afternoon.</p> + +<p>“There is no mystery about that,” Bill said. “I +came to look at a house at Sales Green. We are +thinking of moving in the spring or early summer, +and we are looking out for a house with a large +garden somewhere in this part—the garden is for me, +the house for Polly, the part for Theresa who wants +to be near Bella. However, the Sales Green house +is no good at all; we shall have to look out for +another.”</p> + +<p>“Did you come from town to-day?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; Bella met me at Wrugglesby and drove +me to look at the house and then home with her to +lunch. Afterwards I started to walk to the rectory, +having promised to go to tea with Mr. Dane; he is +going to drive me to the station this evening.”</p> + +<p>“You do not seem to have chosen a very direct +route to the rectory.”</p> + +<p>“No,” Bill was obliged to admit; “but I thought +I would like to go down the lane once more and,—and +I did not know you were at home.”</p> + +<p>Kit showed the utmost satisfaction in having been +at home on this occasion, and they passed on to the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_408">[408]</span>next explanation which was of a different nature and +was given by Kit. It had to do with his prospects +and the narrow means he had to offer; the thought +of them made him remember now it was too late +that he had but small right to ask her to share his +lot.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know?” Bill exclaimed eagerly almost +before she had heard him out. “Haven’t you heard? +I have got money now,—oh, I am so glad! I thought +perhaps Mr. Briant would have told you, but I suppose +he thought you had worries enough of your +own.”</p> + +<p>Perhaps this was the case; at all events, as Mr. +Briant had not told the tale in full, Bill told it now, +and with it the name of the unknown benefactor who +had put an end to the Harborough suit. Possibly +she did not tell it well, certainly Kit was astonished +almost beyond comprehension.</p> + +<p>“You?” he said and he stood to look at her. +“You did it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” and she stood still too, twisting a dry twig +she held. She snapped the brown thing nervously. +“I’m sorry, Kit,” she said humbly. She knew that +it is not always easy to receive a favour. “I’m sorry, +but there did not seem anyone else to settle it, and it +had to be done. I know it is hard to take things +from a woman but,—do you mind so very much +from me?”</p> + +<p>Kit’s throat swelled painfully. After all, he was +very much a boy still; but he took the favour and +the giver of the favour all in one.</p> + +<p>Later, as they went up the forest path together, he +asked her what she would have done had he not met +her at the gate that day. “It is all very well,” he +said, “to say that you have saved Wood Hall for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_409">[409]</span>yourself as well as for me, but supposing I had not +met you to-day, supposing I had never learned you +were free?”</p> + +<p>“Then I should have gone to live in a house with +a big garden and grown tons of cabbages.”</p> + +<p>Kit laughed. “But tell me,” he persisted, “would +you have never let me know?”</p> + +<p>She shook her head. “I made up my mind to tell +no one,” she said, “only Polly assured me that if +ever I married I would have to tell my husband; for +one reason because he might find out if I did not, for +another because it would be wrong to hide things +from him. For the first reason I do not care, I +would have risked that; but for the second it is +different. I am not afraid that you will misunderstand +and it seems a pity to begin with secrets.”</p> + +<p>“Yes;”—Kit had possessed himself of the small +strong hand,—“a great pity since we are to have all +things in common.”</p> + +<p>And so they passed through the silent wood where +the shadows lay, brown and purple and deepest blue; +they followed the wet path still studded with the +autumn’s funguses, crossed the deep hollows where +last year’s leaves glowed in the even light, under the +old trees, twisted pollards and stately beeches, and +so on, up the hill. Once a startled jay flashed from +the covert of a thorn-bush low down across their +path; once a rabbit looked out from among the +beech-roots; nothing else moved, and in the stillness +of a holy world they came to the gardens and to +the house.</p> + +<p>Together they went by the western front to the +great door still open as Kit had left it; together +they entered the wide, dim hall. Kit turned as he +stood on the threshold and looked up at the old +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_410">[410]</span>house. “Not yours nor mine,” he said, “but ours, +sweetheart.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>But the diamond buckles came to Kit Harborough’s +wife after all, for they were given to her +on her wedding-day by one who still called her +“Princess Puck, child of the Lord’s consolation.”</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The End.</span></p> + +<hr class="tiny"> +<p class="center"><small>GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO.</small></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> +<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> + +<p>Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> + +<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> +</div></div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76967 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |