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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77651-0.txt b/77651-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b69472 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10093 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77651 *** + +Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. + +New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain. + + + +[Illustration: SEATING HERSELF ON A FALLEN LOG, AND GAZING DOWN UPON +THE SMILING VALLEYS BELOW, JOAN FELL INTO A REVERIE.] + + + + JOAN'S HANDFUL + + + BY + + AMY LE FEUVRE + + Author of "Herself and Her Boy," "Four Gates," etc. + + + GOLDEN CROWN SERIES + + + [Illustration] + + + PICKERING & INGLIS + 14 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E.C.4 + 229 BOTHWELL STREET, GLASGOW, C.2 + + + + GOLDEN CROWN LIBRARY + + + 1 HERSELF AND HER BOY + BY AMY LE FEUVRE + + 2 MINISTERING CHILDREN + BY M. L. CHARLESWORTH + + 3 HER HUSBAND'S HOME + BY EVELYN EVERETT GREEN + + 4 PEPPER & CO. + BY ESTHER E. ENOCK + + S ELDWYTH'S CHOICE + BY LAURA A. BARTER-SNOW + + 6 MARTYRLAND + BY ROBERT SIMPSON + + 7 ANDY MAN + BY AMY LE FEUVRE + + 8 THE BASKETMAKER'S SHOP + BY M. L. CHARLESWORTH + + 9 FOUR GATES + BY AMY LE FEUVRE + + 10 URSULA + BY LAURA A. BARTER-SNOW + + 11 A MADCAP FAMILY + BY AMY LE FEUVRE + + 12 NORAH'S VICTORY + BY LAURA A. BARTER-SNOW + + 13 JOAN'S HANDFUL + BY AMY LE FEUVRE + + + Made and Printed in Great Britain + + + + CONTENTS. + +CHAPTER + + 1. THE PAINTER + + 2. THE TRAVELLERS + + 3. A BUSY DAY + + 4. RECTORY LIFE + + 5. RENUNCIATION + + 6. A MOTHER'S CONFIDENCES + + 7. THE MAJOR'S HOSPITALITY + + 8. AN ENCOUNTER WITH WILMOT + + 9. JOAN'S GODMOTHER + + 10. OFF TO THE RIVIERA + + 11. LITERARY ATTEMPTS + + 12. TROUBLE AT ROLLESTON COURT + + 13. A FATEFUL TELEGRAM + + 14. STRUGGLING IN THE NET + + 15. DERRICK TO THE RESCUE + + 16. JOAN'S ILLNESS + + 17. A VISIT TO IRELAND + + 18. THE CHURCH IN THE HILLS + + 19. CECIL'S ENGAGEMENT + + 20. BANTY'S ACCIDENT + + 21. A CHANCE FOR CECIL + + 22. HEART TO HEART + + 23. THE LUCK OF ROLLESTON COURT + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS. + + SEATING HERSELF ON A FALLEN LOG, AND GAZING + DOWN UPON THE SMILING VALLEYS BELOW, JOAN FELL + INTO A REVERIE _Frontispiece_ + + JOAN WENT DOWN ON HER KNEES BEFORE HER MOTHER + IMPULSIVELY, AND TOOK HER HANDS IN HERS + + JOAN AND BANTY CHATTED TOGETHER IN LIGHT-HEARTED + FASHION WHEN THEY WERE SITTING DOWN + WATCHING FOR THE KETTLE TO BOIL + + SHE WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT AND PRAYER WHEN A + WELL-KNOWN VOICE MADE JOAN START + + JOAN HEARD A CHILD'S SHRILL CRY FOR HELP, AND + LOOKING OUT UPON A ROCK CLOSE TO THE SEA, SHE + SAW A SMALL FIGURE WAVING A HANDKERCHIEF + + + + "BETTER IS AN HANDFUL WITH QUIETNESS, + THAN BOTH THE HANDS FULL + WITH TRAVAIL AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT" + (ECCLES. iv. 6). + + + + JOAN'S HANDFUL + +CHAPTER I + +THE PAINTER + +AN October afternoon, bright and sunny; the touch of frost in the +previous night had only accentuated the vividness of colour in the +beech trees that surrounded Old Bellerton Rectory. In the cobbled +stone yard at the back was Joan Adair, busy with paint and paintbrush. +She had tucked her skirt up, and was enveloped in a huge white apron. +Her deep blue eyes were so intent upon her handiwork that she did +not notice the approach of a stalwart young man in a rough shooting +costume, who stood leaning against the stable door, and surveyed her +with amused appreciation. + +"Ahem!" + +Joan started. She turned a fresh fair face towards the onlooker. It was +a typical English face, not particularly beautiful, but essentially +bonny; and when she smiled, a dimple came and went in a most +distracting fashion. Her bright brown hair gleamed with gold, though at +present an old straw hat, with a crow's feather sticking up jauntily on +one side, concealed most of her glory. + +"Derrick! How like you! Have you dropped from the sky?" + +"Do I look like a cherub? No; I'm out for slaughter. See my gun? +Have had an invite to the Hall for a week to help old Jossy with his +pheasants. What on earth are you doing?" + +Joan waved her brush proudly. It was no sketch of autumn beauty which +occupied her clever fingers, but a very shabby little jingle which was +being liberally plastered with black and red paint. + +"Our chariot," she said laughing. "Oh, Derrick, I can't tell you how I +am revelling in the country! Every day here is too exquisite for words." + +"How is Dominie?" + +"He is as pleased as I am. We're as happy as the day is long; but +perhaps that does not say much, as the days are getting short now!" + +"I never knew the day that did not see you happy," said the young man. +"Is tea coming on? I've got a thirst which needs a drop of something, +and I know the Dominie won't give me a whisky and soda." + +"Go in and talk to him. I must finish my job. Shan't we look smart?" + +"You'll be taken for the Royal Mail. How fond you are of red! You +always were. Do you remember when your red frock was baptised with ink? +How you howled! Here, let me take a hand." + +He seized her brush. Joan stood and watched him. + +"Any crest to go on?" + +"You can paint Dad's name." + +Derrick did so; but when Joan looked over his shoulder she found +"Joan's a dear!" added in large letters. + +"Derrick, haven't you grown up yet?" Joan said severely. + +"I'm trying to," he said meekly. + +Then he threw down his brush, and she led the way into the house. + +It was one of those very old-fashioned English rectories which are +delightful to look at and to live in, if it were not for the thought +of repairs. A low, square, oak-panelled hall, dark, and with rather +a musty atmosphere; low, long sitting-rooms opening out of it, with +oak beams across the ceilings, and deep casement windows overlooking +a rather untidy and leaf-bestrewed garden. Pictures and books seemed +to cover all the walls, a few shelves of fragile old china lightened +the rather gloomy little drawing-room; but Derrick was led into the +rector's study, where Mr. Adair was immersed amongst his books. Here +there was a cheerful fire burning, and a square tea-table set by its +side. A copper kettle was singing away on the hob. + +"Dad, dear, here is one of your former pupils—the black sheep amongst +them." + +Mr. Adair turned round and greeted the young man heartily. + +Joan's father was getting on in years, but he enjoyed excellent health. +His face was ruddy and cheerful and clean shaven; his white hair and +the stoop in his shoulders were the only signs of age. + +"I must wash my hands," said Joan. "We will have tea in a few minutes." + +She left the room humming a little song under her breath. A green +baize door opened at one end of the hall, and an elderly woman's face +appeared with rather an anxious look upon it. + +"Is it visitors, Miss Joan?" + +Joan laughed. Such a clear, happy laugh! Everyone smiled on hearing it, +and the old servant was no exception. + +"Mr. Derrick, Sophia! We will not make company of him." + +"I'll send in some buttered toast. I remember his liking for it." + +"Be careful with the butter," cautioned Joan, the dimple in her cheek +appearing as she ran lightly up the wide, shallow stairs. She made her +way along a passage till she opened the door of her room. + +It was very small, but it bore the characteristics of the +owner—whitewashed walls, white dimity bed-hangings, and white dimity +curtains in the wide casement window. The carpet was thin and +threadbare, but there was a chintz-covered easy chair by the window, +and a little table with books and writing materials upon it. A bowl +of late roses was on the window ledge over the small dressing-table, +and suspended from a mirror hanging on the wall was a bunch of fresh +lavender, and a bookcase on the opposite side was crowded with +well-worn, shabby books. + +It did not take Joan long to tidy herself, but just for one moment she +leant her elbows on her windowsill and gazed with far-seeing eyes over +the scene before her. An old lawn sloped down to a row of beech trees; +beyond, the fields rose up again till they met a belt of pines on the +horizon. Behind these pines the sun was already slowly sinking, sending +rosy rays across the dusky sky. Rooks were cawing in a rookery close +by, there was a smell of wood fires, and a slight whiff of hot bread +which delighted her senses. + +"What a haven it is!" + +Joan breathed the words; then a little shadow stole into her blue eyes. + +"Oh, I hope they will be pleased—they must be!" A quick sigh escaped +her, then she made her way downstairs and re-entered the study like a +fresh breeze. + +Derrick glanced at her as she sat down and began making the tea. He was +three years her senior, and they had played together and learnt in this +old rectory as a boy and girl when his grandfather had been the rector +here, and Mr. Adair had been his curate and lived with his young family +in a whitewashed cottage at the entrance to the village. + +Mr. Adair had gone to a busy town later on, and had taken pupils. +Derrick Colleton had gone to him there and renewed his acquaintance +with his old playmate. Then he had gone to Oxford, and thence had +drifted first into law, and then, not finding that satisfy either his +purse or his intellect, had taken a post as private secretary to a +member of the Cabinet. He had never lost his boyish spirits, and as his +humorous, twinkling eyes met Joan's, she laughed. + +"I'd like to know your thoughts," she said. + +"I didn't think I'd tumble into such domesticity," he said. "Joan +of the inkpot and of midnight studies I remember—never Joan of the +tea-table!" + +"But Dad must have his tea," said Joan. "He and I have settled down +here together with infinite peace. I left Girton two years ago." + +"And where is Mrs. Adair? Still abroad with Cecil?" + +"They are coming home at the end of this week," Mr. Adair said quickly. +There was a light in his eye as he spoke. + +Derrick looked round the room, then out into the dusky garden. + +"It's so queer your coming back here after all these years. I see my +marks still upon that window shutter. I was shut and locked in here one +day by my grandfather. He rued his deed when he opened the door. My +knife had been busy on every bit of wood in the room!" + +"You were an awful little brat!" said Joan, her dimple appearing. + +"Yes," said Mr. Adair gravely. "It is queer, I suppose, but very +mercifully ordained by God, I consider. Sir Joseph, by giving me the +living, has enabled us to be one united family again. I am sure this +bracing country air will be quite as good for Cecil as that of the +Swiss places in which she has been living, and the house will be far +more comfortable for my dear wife." + +There was a moment's silence. Derrick was casting his mind back to the +narrow terraced house in a dingy street in which the Adairs had lived +for the past ten years. He saw again Mrs. Adair moving about it in her +restless, preoccupied fashion, her graceful figure and dainty dress—a +strangely incongruous sight in that shabby house. He wondered if this +country rectory would be more to her liking. + +Then he turned to Joan. + +"How's the learning? I saw you had taken any amount of degrees and +honours. What good is it going to do you?" + +Joan's eyes flashed. + +"It has done me good. It has quickened and fed the mental part of me. +It has developed—" + +"Oh, Pax! Don't flood me with your rhetoric. If you want to be pleasant +to your neighbours, let the past be buried deep. Your Girton knowledge +won't be wanted here." + +"I'm not going to argue with you," said Joan suddenly, smiling. "You're +only a man. All men are dreadfully afraid of cultured women." + +"I shall never be afraid of you, Joan—never!" + +Sophia at this instant opened the door. She bore a plate of hot +buttered toast, and when Derrick saw her, he seized it from her and +wrung her by the hand. + +"Good old Sophia, you're going strong yet! And your toast is as balmy +as ever!" + +"Mr. Derrick, I hope you're well." + +Sophia dropped an old-fashioned curtsy. She was evidently a privileged +servant, for she went on: + +"I knew your tea would be nothing without a bit of toast; and what the +boy is, that will be the man. I fancy you, sir, going through life and +looking for buttered toast and takin' it as your right—the right to +enjoy what other folks have worked to give you, which is, so to say, a +parable. Buttered toast comes to some quite easy, but 'tis not always +wise." + +"Oh, Sophia, stop," said Joan, laughing. "Don't give us a treatise +on buttered toast. If you spoil Derrick, don't blame him for being +spoiled." + +Sophia edged towards the door. Looking over her shoulder, she said: + +"Mr. Derrick be one of fortune's favourites. He has never met +discipline yet." + +"There, Derrick! Sophia knows all about you." + +Derrick nodded. + +"Have you and Banty met yet?" he asked, munching his toast with much +appreciation. + +"Yes," said Joan. "I have spoken to her after church. She is usually +out when I call. I know Lady Gascoigne best. She is always at home. +Banty and I are strangers; she has nothing left of the small girl I +used to know. She was a fat baby then." + +"Only a couple of years younger than yourself," said Derrick with a +laugh. "Banty is very good sport. She's as good a shot as her father, +which is saying a good deal. What do you think of the cousin living +with them? He's a queer fish if ever there was one!" + +"I haven't met him. He has been up in town. Does he live here? Lady +Gascoigne talks of him as if he is a kind of secretary or upper +servant. He's a Gascoigne, isn't he?" + +"He's the son of a younger brother—Wilmot, his name is. He has +travelled a good bit, I believe, is mad over books, and old Jossy +is keeping him busy cataloguing his library and sorting out family +chronicles. It's the fashion nowadays to publish family reminiscences, +and I believe this fellow is trying to do it. He's too literary for me. +Those book fellows are always such self-assertive brutes; I longed to +pull his nose!" + +"By which I know he snubbed you," said Joan with her dimpling smile. + +Mr. Adair had sat listening in silence; now he engaged Derrick's +attention by asking him questions about the glebe fields and various +other matters upon which he hoped he might be able to throw some light. + +Joan slipped away to finish her cart before darkness stopped her. +Derrick came out to her on his way back to the Hall. + +"So you're settling down into a country parson's daughter," he said. "I +heard you played the organ better than old Tabbs did. Had he chucked it +before you came?" + +"Was he the old schoolmaster? Yes; we have a modern schoolmistress now +who is practising hard to become organist. She has no idea of time, +unfortunately, which is funny, because of course she teaches part +singing in school. No, Derrick; I love it here, but I am not settling +down. Shall I tell you a secret?" She stood up, and a grave, earnest +look came into her face. "Yesterday I had the offer of a post in a +first-class high school which will bring me in from £150 to £200 a +year." + +"Good for you! But, oh, my dear Joan, don't you take to +schoolmistressing! You don't know how much better I like you in your +present setting!" + +"Being a man, that goes without saying," said Joan cheerfully. "But +I am panting for higher, wider interests. I don't want to let my +knowledge rust, and I love—I adore—imparting knowledge; they say I have +the knack of it. Some, you know, have the brains, but not the faculty +for teaching." + +"How can your father spare you?" + +"That is the rub! Of course he could not, unless Mother and Cecil are +here; but it would do Cecil such a lot of good to take my place and run +the parish. She wants an interest in life. She is so much stronger than +she thinks she is, and I dread her getting self-centred. Dad and I are +hopeful that they will settle down. We're going to do our very best to +make them like it. Oh, what am I saying? But you know us, Derrick; it's +no good hiding it from you." + +"Not a little bit!" said Derrick hastily. "But mark my words, your +mother is not old enough to settle down in this quiet spot. In your +heart you want to be up and away, and so will she. Your mother won't +fit into this part. I'll bet you ten quid she won't!" + +Joan put out her hand as if to ward off a blow. + +"Don't say it. Wait and see. Dad has been a new man since he came +here—so much brighter and more hopeful. He said to me last night: +'Please God your mother and I will spend our old age together here. It +is all I ask.'" + +Joan's voice shook, then she laughed. + +"Go away, Derrick; you're making me too communicative, only I know +you're as safe as a post! Here, give me a hand and push this into the +coachhouse. Have you seen our old pony? He is over twenty, I am told, +but he goes like steam. We bought the cart and harness from Dray Farm, +and they threw the pony in for an extra three pounds. Wanted a good +home for him, they said. I like those Drays." + +Derrick took hold of the cart and pushed her aside. Then for an +instant, he let his hand rest on her shoulder. + +"Joan, for auld lang syne, don't you leave poor Dominie in his old age! +He's worth more than brats of girls who don't know one teacher from +another." + +He gave her no time for reply, shouldered his gun, and vaulted clean +over the white gate that led out into the road. Then, waving his hat, +he cried: + +"If Jossy doesn't send you some of the pheasants that I help him to +bring down, I'll give the order to his keeper myself. Au revoir!" + +Joan stood for a moment leaning her arms on the gate and watching his +retreating figure in the dusk, then she gave a quick sigh and went +indoors. + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE TRAVELLERS + +JOAN was having a busy day. Her mother and sister were expected that +afternoon. She had been up since daybreak; both she and her father were +nervously anxious that the old rectory should make a good impression +upon the travellers. With the assistance of the odd man, Joan had swept +and rolled the lawn and paths, tied up straggling chrysanthemums, +and brought a fair amount of order and tidiness into the sweet +old-fashioned garden. + +Sophia, after cleaning and scouring everything in the kitchen that she +could lay her hands upon, was now immersed in cooking. The house fairly +revelled in smells of hot cakes, hot tarts, hot bread, and a variety of +other indications that the oven was doing its work in a satisfactory +manner. Derrick had been as good as his word. A brace of pheasants +had arrived at two o'clock, and Sophia seized them with a cook's +delight. When Joan remonstrated, telling her they were too fresh, she +triumphantly showed her the label with the date attached. + +"Three days old, Miss Joan, and just what is wanted for the mistress. +The joint of beef will come in hot to-morrow and will eat cold on +Sunday." + +So Joan let her have her way. She herself was in every room, assisted +by the young housemaid; there were beds to make, linen and plate to +be brought out of store cupboards; fresh cushions, and curtains, and +tablecloths to take the place of shabby ones, flowers to be arranged, +brass to be brightened, furniture to be polished. By half-past three +in the afternoon Joan's feet were aching, but her heart dancing. As +she piled the wood logs on the drawing-room fire, and looked round the +dainty little home-like room, she said to herself, "Mother will fall in +love with it. We have never lived in such a sweet house before!" + +She had worked hard at the drawing-room. She had bought some faded +chintz curtains and hangings cheap at a country sale a few weeks +before, and her clever fingers had cut out and made covers for the +shabby, old, town furniture they had brought with them. + +Bowls of red and gold chrysanthemums brightened the dark corners; some +framed water-colours, the handiwork of Mrs. Adair when a girl, covered +the walls, which had been freshly hung with a delicate cream paper; the +high, narrow, white marble mantelpiece held a few choice bits of china, +and all the newest and brightest books filled the low bookcases in +the recesses on either side of the fireplace. Joan's work-basket, the +local paper, and some loose magazines on a small table gave a sense of +homeliness to the room. + +Joan pulled up two easy chairs to the fire; she rearranged the cushions +on the chintz couch; then she glanced out of the window, and saw her +father pacing up and down the gravel path. He was waiting for the +country fly which was to take him to the station to meet his wife. He +looked very bent and old, and leaned more on his stick than he had ever +done before; and yet she knew, although she could not see his face, +that his eyes were shining with hope and expectancy, that the wrinkles +were smoothed out upon his brow, that his soul was having one of the +happiest times in his life. They had had several home-comings of this +kind before, but never one under such favourable circumstances as this. +As Joan watched him, sudden tears filled her eyes. + +"Why, oh why are there so many unfulfilled desires!" she exclaimed +passionately. "Why are we such an ill-assorted family? Oh, God!"—And +her whole soul rose up in its breathless longing—"Oh, God, don't let +him be disappointed this time!" + +Mr. Adair, walking up and down with a smile upon his lips, was living +in the past. Step by step he was watching himself as a young man from +the time he went to his first curacy. How well he remembered the +beautiful old abbey church in which he was so fortunate as to find +himself! Would he ever forget the first time he was introduced by his +rector, at a little evening gathering, to old General Lovell and his +three beautiful and clever young daughters? He remembered now the +little thrill that ran through him when, after some conversation in +which the General did most of the talking and he the listening, he was +clapped heartily on the shoulder by the old soldier, with the words: + +"Quite glad to speak with a black coat or two; am sick of the red ones. +Come and see me, young fellow—come and dine with us to-morrow night!" + +How shyly and delightedly he had gone! How his simple soul was dazed at +first by the bright brilliance of the Misses Lovell, and then attracted +and then bewitched by the fascination of the one who always seemed to +understand him and to make allowances for his awkwardness! Cecilia +Lovell had been very good to him in those days. + +At first he had felt he was an outsider, a stranger in their set. The +Lovells had always been a race of soldiers, and very distinguished +ones. His forbears for centuries had been quiet churchmen, not very +clever, not very gifted, but men of simple gentle lives and unselfish +aims—perhaps of narrow prejudices and small, one-sided views. He could +not look at life as the Lovells did; they could not look at life as he +did. But Cecilia always seemed to fill the breach; and then, on one +unforgettable day, he had breathed in her ear the old, old question, +and, with shy averted face, she had given him his answer and the desire +of his heart. + +The old General had been delighted. His motherless daughters were both +a care and anxiety to him. Gout was troubling him. He was impatient +to go abroad and try a cure, so he pushed on the marriage, and in +three months' time, Cecilia Lovell became Mrs. Adair. Her father was +generous, and gave her a liberal allowance. + +In spite of a curate's pay, the young couple were very fairly +comfortable, until children began to arrive. Then John Adair gave up +his curacy for a better stipend, and settled in the white cottage in +Old Bellerton village. Two boys and two girls played with the orphan +grandson of the rector, and for a time life dealt gently with the +curate and his family. But Cecilia did not make a good curate's wife; +she had an impatient intolerance of a small village life, and never +rested till she got her husband to one of the large Midland towns. + +The rector looked back to his life there with regret that he had +not been able to make his wife happy and content in the work which +he loved. He was a simple man, and not a clever one; he read only +theology; his wife's broader culture puzzled and distressed him. She +made no secret of her dislike to the parishioners, and when her elder +boy developed delicacy in one of his lungs, she took him for months at +a time to her old home in the south. + +Gradually she stayed less and less with her husband. An elderly +governess taught the girls and looked after the house when she was +away. Then the boys were placed at school. Their mother's idea was for +them to enter the Army; her husband objected because of expense, and +because he was a man of peace and had a horror of war. + +Eventually the elder passed into Sandhurst, went out to India, and died +of enteric six months afterwards. The younger one was now his mother's +hope. But he developed the same delicacy of lung when nineteen, and +though his mother, helped by her father, was able to take him out to +Davos, he died of a rapid decline. + +Mrs. Adair returned to her husband and girls like a woman without heart +and hope. Joan was always strong, but Cecil was as delicate-looking as +the boys had been, and, nervously fearing she would go the same way, +Mrs. Adair took her continually to Switzerland and to the Riviera by +turns. The taste for continental life crept into her veins; she rarely +was at home for more than three months in the year, and though doctors +assured her that Cecil's lungs were absolutely sound, she refused to +believe them. + +The death of General Lovell made it easier for her to gratify her love +for sunny climes and dry, bracing air. But she had never been able to +economise, and John Adair had the greatest difficulty in sending her +as much money as she wanted. To ease the strain, he took pupils and +coached them for college. + +When Joan's education was nearly finished, her godmother, Lady Alicia +Fairchild, a lifelong friend of her mother's, determined to give her +a chance of making an independent career. She was brilliantly clever, +and her governess could teach her nothing more. So Lady Alicia sent +her to Girton, and she had worked hard and successfully there. Then, +at twenty-two, she came back to her father, and took the household +reins into her hands. She did not anticipate staying at home, but +circumstances kept her there. The old governess had left, and the house +was sadly needing a mistress. + +Mr. Adair got the offer of his present living, and then Joan threw +her heart and soul into the move. Mr. Adair had always been painfully +conscious that his wife could not adapt herself to the shabby terraced +house and the economical life of a poor parson. Now his heart swelled +with thankfulness. This living was worth £500 a year, and the rectory +was a roomy, comfortable house. + +As he paced up and down the gravel path, he felt that good times were +coming, that he and his wife would settle down in this quiet spot, and +draw closer together than ever they had done before. His loyalty and +admiration for his wife had never swerved. He knew she was impatient +and irritable at times; he could never forget one revelation which she +made to him in a moment of furious passion—and that was that she had +married him partly to please her father, partly out of pique, as the +man she really loved had jilted her; but in spite of this, he trusted +that time and his undying love would win her and compel her to come +closer to him. + +Joan's clear, keen insight showed her both her father's and mother's +point of view. Mrs. Adair was distinctly her husband's superior in +intellect; she tried, when young, to introduce him to a wider and a +higher level of thought, but a certain denseness, some obstinacy, and +the firm conviction that a man: and moreover a clergyman, could not +and ought not to let his wife dictate or attempt to teach him, made +all such attempts a dead failure. She now treated her husband with +good-natured indifference. Sometimes Joan felt angry at her mother's +attitude; sometimes she felt sorry for her. Now, her sympathies were +mostly with her father. + +When the fly arrived, she ran out, buttoned up his greatcoat for him, +and besought him not to wait about on the cold, draughty platform of +the little station. + +"Take care of yourself, Dad. I know you will be hours too early for the +train." + +Mr. Adair had a horror of being late for anything, and his daughter +often told him laughingly that his waiting hours consumed a good many +days in the course of a twelvemonth. + +When the fly was off, Joan ran back into the house. Sophia came out of +the kitchen. + +"Has the master gone? He be in a dreadful rumpus to-day, Miss Joan." + +Sophia had been with them all since they were children; her tongue was +never checked, for her heart was loyal and true. + +"I think you've been in the greatest fuss, Sophia. I've heard you +giving it unsparingly to poor Jenny." + +"She's just one of these shiftless girls, Miss Joan. It's terrible to +think of the children unborn, when their parents are such worthless +stuff." + +Joan's laugh rang out merrily. + +"You dear old soul! Go back to your kitchen. Thank goodness, I don't +worry over non-existent beings. And don't begin to talk to Jenny of her +children when she's still unmarried." + +"What do you take me for!" said Sophia, in a shocked tone. Then she +said: "Put on your pretty silk dress to-night, Miss Joan. Show the +mistress your best." + +Joan shook her head. "Not to-night. They'll be tired with travelling. +We shall all have our dinner and go to bed." + +Sophia disappeared. Joan went into the fire-lit drawing-room, and +surveyed herself for a moment in a long mirror there. She was clad in +a pale grey serge, rather Quakerish in style, with fine lace collar +and cuffs. It served to show off her golden-brown head and bright +colouring, but she shook her head at herself. "I always feel like a +milkmaid beside Cecil." Then she took some pink roses out of a bowl and +stuck them in her belt. + +It was four miles to the station. The time of waiting seemed long. Joan +could neither read nor work; but at length the carriage wheels were +heard, and the next moment, Joan and the servants were out in the old +porch welcoming the tired travellers. + +Joan led her mother straight into the drawing-room, and undid her fur +cloak before the fire. + +Mrs. Adair looked about her, then held out her delicate, white hands +towards the fire and shivered. + +She was slim and very tall, a woman who was growing old gracefully, and +more beautiful now than either of her daughters. Her snow-white hair, +clustering round her brow, seemed to soften the rather hard-cut contour +of her face. Her blue eyes were almost as deep and bright as Joan's, +though her dark brows and lashes made them more severe. When she smiled +at people, she could make them do anything, but she was hardly smiling +now. + +"We have had a cold journey. Cecil is very tired. We slept the night in +town. Of course, we could not come right through. London welcomed us, +as usual, with a thick fog. And you seem bitterly cold down here." + +"It's very healthy; we are on high ground." + +"Oh, I know, my dear Joan, I know. I have not forgotten the terribly +long winters, when fires were a scarcity and it was doubtful whether +one was justified in buying warm gloves for all the tiny chilblained +hands. Your father speaks as if it is a new neighbourhood to which we +are coming. He forgets that I know every inch of every road only too +well." + +"I suppose you remember this room?" + +Joan determined to be cheerful. + +Mrs. Adair looked round it in a critical sort of way. + +"Yes. I give you credit for improving its looks. The poor curate's wife +was invited sometimes up to dinner, and sorely was she bored as she sat +in this room receiving good advice from the rector's wife!" + +Then she smiled sadly. + +"Don't torture me with recollections, Joan dear. When I was last here, +I had my boys. It cannot be otherwise than sad, returning to this part." + +Joan's hopes sank. She felt she had no heart to show her mother over +the house. Was it a mistake coming back to the place which held such +unpleasant memories for her? + +And then through the door came Cecil, like a flash of light. + +"Is Mother here? Oh, what a dear, wee, cosy room! Sophia has given me +two smacking kisses, Mother, and Jenny—is that her name?—looked as if +she were going to follow suit. I tried to freeze her, but I haven't the +inches. Joan, you look blooming! My feet are like ice. How nice it is +to be home." + +Cecil had drawn a low chair up to the fire as she talked, and was now +untying her shoes. Slipping them off, she held out silk-clad feet to +the fire. + +Joan shook her head at her. "Of course you're cold in such flimsy +stockings—open-work, too! I'll lend you a pair of my sensible ones if +you come upstairs." + +"Oh, I can't stand thick stockings." + +Cecil spoke in the accents of a spoiled child. "Tell me when the +luggage is up," she said. "I'll toast myself here meanwhile." + +Joan slipped away. Her father and Benson, the odd man, were struggling +in the hall with trunks, hat-boxes, portmanteaus, and every kind of +bundle and bag. Joan soon sorted out the light luggage, and made Jenny +help her in taking it up to the rooms. The trunks were gradually +brought up by the flyman and Benson. When the hall was clear, Mr. Adair +went into the drawing-room. + +"Welcome home, my dear!" he said, stepping forward and kissing his +wife. Then, patting her shoulder, he added, with the tactlessness of a +man, "And I'm hoping, please God, that you won't be wanting to run away +from your poor old husband, now that you have such a pretty home as +this." + +"My dear John," said Mrs. Adair, moving very slightly away from him, +"do you forget that our sojourn abroad has been by doctor's orders?" + +"Yes, yes, my dear—of course I know. But little Cecil is getting +stronger, and our bracing heath and pines will be the very thing for +her." + +Cecil looked up at him from her seat by the fire and laughed. "I +believe, like Diogenes, you would be happy in a tub, Dad! I am sure +your letters led me to expect a mansion, a country seat! You see, I +never remembered the place; I was too small when we left. Mother tried +to prepare me. It's a duck of a place, and, for winter, very cosy, but +in summer, I should feel I couldn't breathe. The ceilings seem down on +one's head." + +Mrs. Adair glanced quickly and anxiously at her daughter as she spoke. + +"We must have the windows open," she said. "Do you feel this room +airless, Cecil? It is the contrast after our big rooms in the hotels." + +"Oh, it's all right, Mother. Don't you worry. I'm too cold at present +to want anything but a hot fire. Dad, dear, would you mind bringing me +my handbag in the hall? I left my handkerchief in it. I'm so tired or I +would fetch it myself." + +Mr. Adair left the room at once, and went upstairs to find the bag. + +Joan would not let him take it down again. "I'll do it, Dad, dear. +Cecil is a lazy monkey not to fetch it herself. You must not spoil her. +Dinner will be ready in half an hour. You will find hot water in your +room." + +"My dear Joan," said Mr. Adair, standing still in the passage, and +speaking in a dispirited tone, "they find the rooms too small and +airless!" + +"Nonsense!" said Joan, laughing. + +She ran downstairs, afraid to trust herself to say anything further. +She chatted gaily to her mother till she had seen her comfortably +established in her room upstairs. Then she went down to put final +touches on the dinner-table, and then she slipped into her black +evening dress. + +They all met in the quaint oak-raftered dining-room, a little later, in +better spirits. + +Sophia's soup, her pheasants, and her sweet omelette were beyond +reproach. + +When dessert was on the table, Joan pointed to the apples and pears in +triumph. + +"Out of our own orchard! We are self-supplying. All our vegetables, +chickens, eggs—and a fat pig to be made into bacon after Christmas—are +our very own. Isn't it delicious, Cecil?" + +"It's rather a change after that smoky, grimy Nuthampstead," said +Cecil. She leant back in her chair looking exceedingly pretty. She was +very slight and small, with an ivory pallor, dark eyes and hair, and +delicate features. To-night a faint rose blush was on her cheeks. + +"A regular little aristocrat from the top of her head to the soles of +her feet," Sophia said of her; and it was true. + +Cecil was a reproduction of Mrs. Adair's own mother, who had been a +very noted beauty at Court. Her clothes were never anything but dainty +in the extreme, though her mother and she had the good taste to dress +very quietly. To-night she had a simple blue crepon gown, with old +lace softening the bodice. Her dark hair was bound round with a silver +braid, but her neck and arms were white as the driven snow, and her +face was almost ethereal in its delicate beauty. + +Joan was rather silent. She let her mother do most of the talking. Mrs. +Adair had many amusing anecdotes to tell and talked of many people and +things. + +"It was so strange," she said. "We met General Long in town, and he +brought his son to see us. He is now a captain in the 12th Hussars, and +just home from India. They dined with us. It was interesting hearing +about India again. But Harry Long gave an alarming account of the +sedition about the Bengal district. He says it is simply seething with +an undercurrent of hatred to British rule. People make light of it and +refuse to believe it—just as in the days before the Indian Mutiny. I +suppose we shall go on making light of it until a crisis comes, and +then there will be a lot of unnecessary suffering and bloodshed." + +"Oh, I hope not," said Mr. Adair, looking across at his wife with +startled eyes. "I hope we shall not have another mutiny or war in +India. Mrs. White's son has just gone out to India. It would break the +poor old body's heart if anything happened to her boy." + +A little smile flitted across Mrs. Adair's face. "We will hope young +White will have his life preserved, my dear John. But there are a few +more English to be considered besides him in our Indian Empire?" + +"Yes, yes—of course. War is horrible. May God preserve us from it; and +Indian wars always seem worse than those nearer home. How thankful we +must be that we have no sons out there!" + +Joan saw her mother wince and quiver as if someone had struck her +across the face. She stopped talking, and left the table almost +directly. + +Mr. Adair was perfectly oblivious that, as usual, he had blundered. He +sat on in the dining-room and smoked his pipe over the fire, smiling +happily to himself. + +"It's nice to have them home again. We shall be together now!" + +Mrs. Adair and Cecil retired very early to rest, and Joan was nothing +loath to follow their example. She had had a tiring day, and foresaw a +good many tiring ones still to come. + + + +CHAPTER III + +A BUSY DAY + +THE next day was Saturday, and if Joan had not had a fund of cheeriness +and good temper in herself and an unflinching amount of pluck and +patience, she would never have been able to get through it as happily +and easily as she did. + +Mrs. Adair breakfasted in bed. Cecil arrived downstairs at ten o'clock +and expected Joan to sit and talk to her whilst she dawdled over her +cup of tea and eggs and bacon. + +"What can you have to do? Let Jenny alone; you are always fussing after +her." + +"My dear Cecil, I am due at the schoolhouse to receive club money at +ten. I must fly. I expect you will be busy unpacking this morning, so +you won't miss me. I wonder if you would mind putting your breakfast +things together on a tray. This is a busy morning with us. I shall be +back in an hour's time. Do you think you could darn a hole in Dad's +surplice? The laundress has torn it in the wash." + +Cecil laughed a little. + +"You are determined to set me to work; but I think after our hard +travelling you might allow me a day's grace. I haven't even been shown +over the house yet." + +Joan was gone. Cecil saw her flying down the garden path, but she was +stopped at the gate by a small boy. Cecil wondered at the serene, +cheerful way in which Joan seemed to be talking to him. Then she went +on, but a little slower, for the small boy was trying to keep pace with +her. Cecil smiled to herself, then yawned. + +"I can't take the yoke upon me yet. I do hate the ways of a parson's +house! But I'll go and unpack, and I suppose I might put up my +breakfast things, though why that small Jenny can't come in and do it, +is past my comprehension." + +She gathered the crockery together, placed it on a tray, and actually +carried it out to the kitchen. + +Sophia, as usual, was immersed in cooking, but her kitchen was +beautifully clean, and as tidy and bright as a new pin. + +"Here I am, you see, Sophia—back into the midst of the daily drudgery!" + +"And why should you not be?" demanded Sophia, rolling up the dough at +which she was Working with quick, deft hands, and looking up at Cecil +with her small, bright eyes. "Why should you not be here to bring a bit +of ease into the house by a pair of willing hands? 'Tis not right, Miss +Cecil, to make life a burden to Miss Joan." + +"Joan! She never feels anything a burden." + +"That's your mistake. What brings burdens into the world? 'Tis some +folks shifting their share of work to others' shoulders. If all did +their share, none would be overburdened." + +Cecil put her tray down and swung herself up lightly on the old +dresser, where she sat swinging her feet, ready to argue. She loved a +good argument with Sophia upon any subject. + +"But that is folly, Sophia; that is the mistake the Socialists make. +They want everyone to be equal. How can they be when some are weak and +some are strong? You want a dull, monotonous creation, which God did +not want, or He would have made it. You want everyone made after the +same pattern, with the same characters and dispositions, all taking the +same share of life's work. Imagine it! When a man who knows he can do +it, and has the ambition to bear big burdens comes along, he must never +want to do anything or bear anything more than his neighbour! Don't you +see what folly it would be?" + +"You may be clever with your tongue, Miss Cecil, but you're too clever +to let all your powers rust, and sit still with folded hands whilst +others wait on you. You may not be as strong as Miss Joan, but you be +quite strong enough to take those cups and plates into the back kitchen +and wash them. It's what Miss Joan would do, were she in your place." + +"But she isn't, and she never will be. And I live by principles of my +own, Sophia, and I never fold my hands, never! I don't know how to do +it. It's one of my principles never to interfere with anybody else's +business. I should say the washing up of these plates is Jenny's +business, is it not? Or is it yours? It certainly is not mine." + +She slipped down from the dresser and went out of the kitchen humming +gaily to herself. + +Sophia shook her head after her retreating figure. + +"She has been spoilt all her life, and is just becoming one of these +useless creatures which are a curse to them that begat them." + +Joan did not return to the house till nearly twelve. + +"I've been delayed. I had to go and see a sick woman," she said, +meeting her sister sauntering up and down the garden. "I generally go +into the church and clean the brasses at this time. Will you come with +me, Cecil? And if you were to pick a few flowers and bring with you, I +should be glad. Where is Mother?" + +"Well," said Cecil, laughing; "she is preparing a sad sheaf of bills +for Dad. She wants to go through accounts with him as soon as she can. +He has kept us terribly short of money, Joan! I can't tell you how +awkward it has been!" + +"My dear Cecil, his bank balance is much overdrawn now. We have had +great expenses settling in here. Of course it will be better in time. +I do hope you and Mother will make a good long stay here now: You must +try and get her to do it. Then we shall pull round. It has been a great +strain on him to find the necessary money." + +Cecil did not answer, but she accompanied Joan into the church and put +a few flowers into the vases there, and a little bunch of autumn roses +on the grave of the late rector, whose widow had requested that it +might be done. Then they came back to the house and found their father +and mother deep in accounts in the study. + +Mr. Adair came to the lunch table with a harassed look upon his face +and a little extra stoop from his shoulders. Mrs. Adair had flushed +cheeks and bright eyes. It was rather a silent meal. Joan and Cecil did +most of the talking. + +As the rector left the room after lunch, he said to his wife, with his +usual smiling face: + +"I am not to be seen on Saturday afternoons till tea-time. But you know +my parson's habits, my dear. If Cecil would like to take you for a +drive, we have the pony and jingle ready for your use. Joan, you'll be +having the choir practice at three, I suppose?" + +"Yes," responded Joan; "we'll respect your sermon-making, Dad, and +won't come near you." + +"And you and I will finish and square up accounts on Monday," said the +rector, turning to his wife. + +"Oh, very well. I am not in a hurry, I assure you." + +They separated. Joan was conscious of disturbance in the atmosphere. +She went up to her room for a few minutes' quiet. She felt to-day as +if she could not overtake things. Her mother had asked her to come +and help her unpack. Sophia expected her to give out the linen to be +aired, Jenny was hopelessly behind with everything. It was a lovely +day, and apples ought to be picked in the orchard. The flowers in the +drawing-room and dining-room required to be freshened up. + +"Oh!" she thought. "For six pairs of hands at least!" + +And then she sat down by her window. + +"I will not let my soul get chafed if I can help it!" she said. + +She drew a well-worn little Bible to her. The quiet and fresh coolness +of her room soothed her. She turned to her morning reading, the lesson +for the day. She had read it hastily when she rose that morning, but a +whiff of its fragrance had been with her ever since; and now she looked +at the verse again which had been simmering in her mind: + + "Strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power unto all +patience, and long-suffering with joyfulness." + +"Yes!" she mused. "Patience, long-suffering, joyfulness—a strange +mixture, but just what I need!" + +A soft, happy glow came into her blue eyes. Joan's religion was real +and very precious to her; but she could not talk about it. For a moment +she closed her eyes, and her lips moved. Then a robin perched on her +window ledge outside and burst into his autumn song. + +Joan smiled happily as she got up from her seat. + +"And that small scamp hasn't the least idea how he is going to be fed +through the winter!" + +She sang under her breath as she went into her mother's room. For the +rest of the afternoon she was more than busy, but at tea-time she sat +down to enjoy a well-earned rest. They gathered in the low, quaint +drawing-room. + +Mr. Adair asked that a cup of tea should be sent him. He was not a +clever man and sometimes found it very difficult not to repeat himself +from Sunday to Sunday. To-day he was nervously anxious that his sermon +should be appreciated by his intellectual wife. He sat looking over +some very old sermons of his, written with the fire and energy of +youth, if not with the mellowed experience of some of his later ones. + +And at length, he remembered a sermon he had preached in the abbey +church in which he had first seen his wife. He remembered two or three +people had complimented him upon it, General Lovell amongst the number. +He had never preached from the same text again. He looked over it, +then determined to take it and improve upon it, if he could. He had +a longing in the depths of his heart that his wife should appreciate +and express her appreciation of his preaching. She was not given to +church-going; she hardly ever attended the weekday services, and when +she was home, had a habit of going to see some of her many friends, and +staying with them for the week-end. + +Very carefully did the rector read over his old sermon. Very earnestly +did he pray, as he revised it, that it might not only be the means of +helping and blessing his flock, but in particular his wife and family. + +After tea, Joan produced a large work-basket. + +"You look like the mother of a family," laughed Cecil. She was sitting +on the hearth-rug doing nothing. + +Her mother was at an old-fashioned davenport writing letters. + +"The house linen is in a very ancient stage. Come, Cecil, help me. Here +is a thimble." + +"I know you are going to hand me over the surplice I would not do this +morning. Do you always go on like this, Joan? It is sordid drudgery. +You are just an upper servant in the house." + +"I won't quote a verse which I'm sure you know, about 'the trivial +round, the common task.' Things must be done, Cecil, dear. You would +not like to have come back to a dirty, untidy, uncared-for home." + +"It's rather a poor, shabby one," said Cecil discontentedly. + +She rubbed a slipper up and down the threadbare carpet and looked round +the room with a puckered brow. + +"That's unkind of you," said Joan good-humouredly. "If you only knew +how hard I worked to make you like it! And though we've been here such +a short time, I have already learnt to love it. You haven't seen its +beauties. I look out of my window and watch the sunsets behind that +belt of pines. They are tipped with gold, and their straight, pure pink +trunks are edged with crimson. The owls begin to hoot. Sometimes I +put a shawl over my head and go out on that little hillock of heather +at the back of our orchard, and when I have inhaled all the delicious +odour of pines and heather, I turn back into the house. Its quaint +rooms and passages, and the country smell in it is joy to me." + +"I feel as if I can hardly breathe here!" Cecil drew a long sigh, then +she coughed, shivered, and drew near to the fire. "I find it cold and +depressing. I'm not an out-of-door person like you. I don't revel in +open windows, and cold baths, and draughts all day long." + +"Have you caught a fresh cold Cecil?" Mrs. Adair showed that she was +not oblivious of the conversation going on. Her tone was anxious. + +"Oh, no," said Cecil carelessly. "I'm much as usual. Is my bedroom fire +lighted yet, Joan? I think I'll go up and have a laze before dinner." + +Joan dropped her work and left the room. In a few minutes she came back. + +"It is lighted now, Cecil, and the room does not seem cold." + +Cecil nodded, then got up from the rug and went out. + +Joan took up her work again. + +Her mother left her writing and came to the fire. + +"I want to have a little talk with you, Joan. You seem like a +will-o'-the-wisp—in and out of the house a dozen times in an hour." + +"Saturday is a busy day, Mother; but I am quiet now." + +Joan looked up, and her blue eyes encountered her mother's dark, bright +ones fixed upon her. + +"I am writing to Lady Alicia; I had a letter from her to-day. She asks +me if you have snapped your links with college for good and for all, or +whether your career there has led to anything?" + +Joan darned away at the surplice, but her cheeks grew hot. She had not +meant to confide in her mother at present, but there seemed no help for +it now. + +"I have been offered the post of a teacher in a high school, Mother. It +is a good thing. I should begin with a hundred and fifty pounds a year." + +Mrs. Adair was silent for a moment. + +"Have you given your answer yet?" + +"No; I must in a week's time." + +"Do you want to take it up?" + +Joan's eyes gleamed. + +"I should love it above everything!" she said. + +"The idea is most distasteful to me," said Mrs. Adair. "But I know +girls do it nowadays. I suppose I ought to adapt my thoughts and +feelings to the times." + +"Of course," Joan said quickly and a little nervously, "I feel we could +not leave Dad alone now; but I hoped that perhaps Cecil would be strong +enough to stay here and help in the parish." + +"Cecil will never be strong enough for parish work," Mrs. Adair said +decidedly. "I am in continual anxiety over her. She looks as if a +breath of wind could carry her away. Our doctor at Cannes told me that +sunshine was absolutely essential to her. He advised Algiers this +winter, but I suppose it is impossible." + +"I believe she would be quite happy and well here," said Joan +desperately; "it is so very healthy, Mother." + +"I did not find it so when you were children," said Mrs. Adair +bitterly. "My memory takes me back to the biting east winds every +spring, and the struggle to keep the little ones warm and free from +colds and chilblains through the long winters. It laid the seeds of +disease in the boys, and made Cecil what she is at present." + +"Oh, Mother!" gasped Joan. "I had no idea you felt like this about it. +We ought not to have come." + +"Beggars cannot be choosers. It gives us an extra two hundred pounds a +year, and it is all right for you and your father." + +"Are you not—not going to try a winter here?" asked Joan falteringly. + +"I don't think it will be possible. In any case, Cecil cannot take your +place, and parish work is above and beyond me. I never ought to have +been a parson's wife, and that is the simple truth. The parish comes +before the home with your father. He told me that six months after we +were married. I, like the silly child I was, thought only of the cosy +home I was going to make and keep for him. The parish was of no account +in my eyes then." + +Mrs. Adair smiled, but there was a wistful sadness in her tone. Joan +looked at her and thought that she had never seen her mother look more +beautiful. As a little child she had adored her, but Mrs. Adair had +given most of her affection to the delicate little daughter, and not to +the healthy, rosy romp. Joan and her mother, in spite of intellectual +sympathies, had always lived apart from each other, and there was a +certain amount of constraint between them now. + +Yet Mrs. Adair had never been quite so confidential with Joan before. +The girl's warm heart quickened and glowed. She dropped her work and +went down on her knees before her mother impulsively. Taking her hands +in hers, she said: + +"Mother, dear, Dad is getting old. He may have made mistakes when he +was a young man, but one can't blame him for his enthusiasm for work. +Now he appreciates his home very much. If you could only have heard him +since he has been here! 'Joan, don't you think your mother will like +it? I have cut down that elm to give her a peep of the heath from her +window! She must like the space and room in this old, rambling house!' +Oh, Mother! His one desire has been that our home should contain us +all, as it used to long ago." + +Mrs. Adair looked into the glowing fire in front of her. She did not +withdraw her hands from Joan's clasp; but her voice came in its cold +frostiness like a cold water douche upon Joan's hot spirit. + +"My dear, you talk as if I am wilfully staying away from you from +mere caprice. Surely you know that it is Cecil's health that keeps us +abroad. I have not found fault with the house. I think you have done +wonders in it. Naturally the small, low rooms seem airless to us after +our lofty hotel rooms abroad, but you have done your best to make +them comfortable. And now there is another matter I must mention. You +are under-staffed. It is not possible to work a house of this size +comfortably with two maids. As Cecil says, you are wearing yourself +out doing the work of a servant half your days. And this little Jenny +is too young for her duties. Get a third maid as quickly as you can. +She will ease everyone all round. Sophia may know of some one locally; +she is a native of this place and had a large family of brothers and +sisters, if I remember rightly." + +"But," said Joan, going back to her chair and taking up her work again; +"I am not always in such a bustle as you have seen me. When Dad and I +are alone, we get along without a ripple. Of course, every extra person +makes a difference, and the extra fires, and the waiting, and the +novelty of it has rather turned Jenny's head and made her appear less +efficient than she really is. We have to economise just now, because +we have had such heavy expenses. Of course, if—if you are not going +away just yet—we can get extra help. You see, Mother, if I took this +post which is offered to me, I could give Dad some material help. It is +rather a puzzle to me how to act." + +Mrs. Adair was about to speak, when the door opened and the rector came +in rubbing his hands cheerfully. + +"Well, Cecilia, dearest, it is delightful to come in and find you here. +I have earned a rest, I consider." + +He pulled up an easy chair to the fire, then leant over and patted +his wife's hand caressingly. "How is your baby? It's such a lovely +moonlight night. I'm hoping for a fine day to-morrow. Times have +altered since we were here before. I have only two services to take +in this village. Old Bradsbrook is worked from Nettleburn, so you see +I need no curate. I have never felt heartier in my life! And I really +believe both you and little Cecil will soon derive the greatest benefit +from our bracing air. Joan, the squire has just sent in another brace +of pheasants. Very kind of him, isn't it? You will like to renew your +acquaintance with Lady Gascoigne, will you not, Cecilia? You and she +always got on so well together." + +"Did we? I forget." + +Mrs. Adair rose from her chair and went across to her writing-table. + +"I must finish my letters," she said. "The post goes at seven, does it +not?" + +Mr. Adair's face fell. He dearly loved a chat between tea and dinner. +He and Joan generally talked over the village at this time, and told +each other any interesting bits of information which it had been their +lot to gather during the day. And he had been looking forward to a +firelight chat with his wife. He had so many things to tell her, and +somehow or other he had hardly seen her since she had arrived. For a +moment he sank back into his chair like an old man; then his natural +liking for country gossip could not be restrained. + +"Joan," he said in a husky, penetrating whisper, "Rolleston Court is +opened. Major Armitage returned two days ago." + +"Please don't whisper, John; it is so distracting. You won't disturb me +in the least if you talk." + +Mrs. Adair half turned in her chair as she spoke. Her husband +brightened up. + +"Very well, my dear. You are clever enough to write, I know, and give +half an ear to my news at the same time." + +"And has Major Armitage brought back a wife with him, Dad?" Joan asked +with interest. + +"No; he is quite alone. Rather strange, isn't it? And it seems old +Mrs. Bone was officious enough to ask after his lady, and when she was +coming. He told her he had no lady coming, and dismissed her on the +spot. She is dreadfully put out. He paid her a month's wages, and said +she would not suit him. And now Sophia's widowed sister, Maria Bucke, +has been engaged by him. You remember the rivalry between her and Mrs. +Bone as to which should get the post as his housekeeper. Of course, +Maria is triumphant." + +"And Sophia will be delighted. But what a martinet he must be! Does +he think a country village will not talk when such dainty furniture +comes down by rail? Old Mrs. Bone told me herself that there is a most +exquisite little boudoir fitted up for a lady's use, even down to a +work-basket." + +"Oh, how you gossip!" + +Mrs. Adair said it with her light laugh, and Joan joined her in the +laugh. + +"Major Armitage is the centre of our interest just now, Mother. After +shutting up the place all these years because he is too poor to live +there, he has come into money and has returned to it. He has spared no +money in doing it up. We quite expected he was going to be married." + +"We met him in Italy last year," said Mrs. Adair, letting her pen drop +between her fingers. "He is a great musician. I never enjoyed anything +so much in my life as listening to him playing in a little monastery +chapel out in the country. We were passing by, and it was like music +from another world. We were told afterwards who it was that was +playing. He is a peculiar man—very reserved—and as a rule will not go +into society. I suppose he felt leaving the Service very much. Was it +not blindness that made him do it?" + +"Yes," said Joan. "Lady Gascoigne was talking about him the other day. +It was in the Boer War. They said he would lose his sight, and he sent +in his papers; and then, four years afterwards, a clever oculist cured +him completely." + +"I can't imagine what he will do with himself down here," said Mrs. +Adair. Then she went on with her writing. + +Joan and her father chatted on until the dressing bell for dinner +sounded. + +Both Mrs. Adair and Cecil went to bed very early. + +As Joan lay her head on her pillow, she went over again in her mind her +short talk with her mother. + +"It will break Dad's heart if they go off again! I wish—I wish—Oh, why +does marriage sometimes bring such a gulf between husband and wife? It +makes one dread it for oneself!" + + + +CHAPTER IV + +RECTORY LIFE + +SUNDAY morning was bright and clear, but Mr. Adair came to breakfast +with a dejected air. + +"Your mother is not very well. She is staying in bed," he said to Joan. + +It was so like old times that Joan almost smiled. She was sorry for +her father, for he had set his heart on seeing his wife in church that +morning, and the disappointment was great. Joan was hurrying through +her morning duties, for Sunday school claimed her at ten, and she went +straight into church afterwards. As she was going out of the house, +Cecil came down the stairs. + +"Are you coming to church?" Joan asked. + +"I don't feel much like it. Is the church warmed properly?" + +"As warm as a toast. Do come, Cecil. Dad will be so sorry if you don't." + +"Shall I see Major Armitage there?" Cecil asked, mischief in her eyes. +"I rather took a liking to him abroad. I was the only woman he would +speak to in the hotel." + +Joan's rather impatient spirit got the better of her. "You ought to be +ashamed of yourself. What is church for?" + +"To meet one's neighbours," said Cecil, provokingly, "and criticise +best hats and coats." + +Joan slammed the door after her. + +"She's as godless as a heathen!" + +But before she got to school, she was taking herself to task for +impatience. + +"I shall never win her if I am so hot-tempered. How badly I have begun +the day!" + +Her class soothed her. Joan was a born lover of children, and they all +adored her. When she went into church, and took her seat at the organ, +she forgot all her vexations. The little church was full, for Mr. Adair +was already winning the hearts of his people by his simple kindliness +and whole-hearted interest in every individual. + +Cecil came in late. She sat alone in the rectory seat, and hardly +hid her curiosity about the various members of the congregation. The +squire's large seat was full. Sir Joseph and Lady Gascoigne were most +regular in their attendance at church. Sir Joseph was the rector's +churchwarden. Their daughter Rose, or Banty as she was usually called, +was with them, also Wilmot Gascoigne, Derrick, and two other men who +had been asked down for shooting. + +Behind them sat the doctor's wife, a pretty little woman, with two +fascinating small boys. A maiden lady completed the circle of Old +Bellerton society; but following Cecil's entrance came Major Armitage. +He slipped into the last seat next the door, and was the first to leave +the church. Cecil's hopes of speaking to him were frustrated. She was +looking very pretty, dressed in a pale blue cloth coat and skirt and +black furs. When Derrick came up to her after church, she greeted him +warmly. + +"You haven't grown much," were his first words. + +"Don't make personal remarks, or I shall do the same. Do come back to +lunch with us. It is so dull. I feel I could talk to a pump, I'm so +bored." + +"I couldn't be bored if I lived in the same house as Joan!" He tried to +look severe, but failed. + +Then the Gascoignes came up. Derrick did not accept the invitation to +lunch, but he had a word aside with Joan. + +"How are things going? Are they humming?" + +Joan smiled. + +"Oh, well—we've hardly shaken down yet." + +"Get the little malingerer to buckle to!" + +"Oh, hush, Derrick! I won't have it." + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"She's a radiant picture of health and beauty." + +"Yes," said Joan heartily. "I love to watch her. You know how I always +have admired Cecil, though I suppose, as she belongs to me, I ought not +to do it. I must speak to Mrs. Blount." + +She nodded to him and crossed the road to speak to the doctor's wife. +The boys, Harry and Alan, seized hold of her. + +"You told us you would show us where nuts grow!" + +"We're waiting for you to come out with us." + +"I can't do it yet," Joan told them. + +They hung upon her arms. + +"You must fix a day now. She must, Mums. She promised." + +"Well, I'll try next Wednesday afternoon," Joan told them. + +They were pacified. Then Miss Borfield, who lived in a tiny cottage at +the end of the village, came up to talk to Joan of a sick girl in whom +she was interested. + +When she eventually reached home, she found her mother in the +drawing-room on the chintz couch. + +"I have one of my headaches, Joan. I won't come into the dining-room to +lunch. Send me something in here." + +Cecil was quiet and a little glum at luncheon. She was a girl of many +moods. When Joan asked her how she liked the Gascoignes, she said: + +"That Banty is simply a great cow! 'Do you hunt? Like to join our +hockey club? S'pose you don't shoot?' And when I had said 'no' to all +these queries, she turned her back on me." + +"She is rather awkward," said Joan, laughing. "But she is very +good-natured. I have met her once or twice striding over the heath +with her dogs. She loves Nature, and so do I; so we have that taste in +common." + +"Did you notice Major Armitage? He was like a man in a dream while you +were playing the voluntary. I know he was longing to do it himself." + +"Armitage," said Mr. Adair, rousing himself out of a fit of +abstraction. "He came to me in the vestry; asked if he might have +the key of the organ sometimes. I asked him if he was a good enough +musician to warrant my turning over our beautiful little organ to him, +but he seemed to think he was." + +"Really, Dad!" protested Joan. "You need not have put it so badly. But +I don't feel inclined to give him my key, for I am so often in the +church at odd times. The organ is becoming rather dear to me!" + +"My dear, I have a duplicate in the vestry. I gave it to him on the +spot. I liked the man, and mean to call on him as soon as I can." + +Cecil brightened up. + +"Ask him to dinner, Dad. I like him too, and you know mother's weakness +for soldiers." + +Joan was off again to afternoon school after lunch. Cecil and her +mother spent the afternoon by the drawing-room fire. Neither of them +attended the evening service, and when Mr. Adair hoped to have a little +rest, and quiet talk with his wife after supper, she went up to bed. + +It was always the way. For years his wife had eluded his company, +though in public she was bright and engaging. + +On Monday came an invitation to dine at the Hall. But only one daughter +was asked, and Cecil pouted with discontent. + +"I'm sure I don't want to go," Joan said good-temperedly. "You can take +my place, Cecil." + +Mrs. Adair wished to refuse. + +"These country people bore me so Sir Joseph's conversation is only on +sport, Lady Gascoigne's on needlework and servants." + +But her husband wanted her to go, and said so very emphatically. She +smiled at his eagerness, but gave way. + +"The position of a parson's wife is pitiful," she said to the girls +when her husband had left the room. + +"Then why did you become one?" laughed Cecil. + +"I know what you mean," said Joan sympathetically; "but I think the +Gascoignes like people for themselves. They're too well bred to +patronise." + +Later that day Joan crossed the heath with her little terrier Bob; +she was going to see a sick person. As her feet trod the dead heather +underfoot, and she breathed the fresh keen pine-laden air, her spirits +rose. The day had been full of small pinpricks; the daily routine of a +quiet household had been upset; the rector and his wife had been having +long discussions over ways and means, and accounts generally brought +him distress of mind. + +At the back of Joan's thoughts, through everything that was said and +done, was, "Shall I be able to leave home?" + +She could not see the way out. Every fresh hour convinced her that +her place could not and would not be taken by Cecil. She was loth to +acknowledge it. Now as she lifted up her head and surveyed the wide +expanse above and around her, the words again came to her mind: + + "Strengthened with all might . . . unto all patience and long-suffering +with joyfulness." + +"I dare say," she mused; "that may be the life God has in store for me, +not out in the world doing the work which seems big in my short-sighted +eyes, but just the humdrum life at home which makes such demands on +one's patience. How glad I am that I can leave it to Him. If He closes +the outer gate, I can work within. And I will, oh! I will, if I can, do +it joyfully." + +Yet she wiped away some smarting tears as she walked. + +Presently she met Banty Gascoigne, who was also alone. + +Banty was a fresh-coloured, rather plain young person, and had that +slightly roughened and hardened look about her face that comes of being +continually out of doors. + +"Weatherproof and waterproof," she called herself. She had fair hair +and blue eyes, with rather a wide mouth and square chin. She was always +dressed in the severest tailor tweeds, and wore very short skirts. + +She waved her stick to Joan as she approached. Though they were not at +present very intimate friends, Banty was thoroughly unconventional. + +"I do like to meet a walker like myself," she said; "and you walk as if +you liked it." + +"Of course I do," said Joan; "it takes years off my life when I'm out +of doors." + +Banty laughed appreciatively. + +"Where are you going? I am 'de trop' this afternoon. They had enough +guns without me, which was distinctly nasty of them; and mother has a +tea-party. I expect you wonder who can be at it, but it is three old +cousins who have motored over, and the Irwins from Chesterbrook; and +they're every one of them so Early Victorian that I am a fish out of +water; and they're, of course, shocked and disgusted with me." + +Joan explained her errand. + +"Isn't it a bore to trudge out on such visits?" + +Joan shook her head happily. + +"You're a proper parson's daughter in principles; but you oughtn't to +have that dimple; it gives you a flighty look." + +"I'm so sorry," Joan said, laughing. + +"I'll walk a bit of the way with you," announced Banty. "Are you coming +to dinner with us?" + +"The family is. I dare say Cecil will come instead of me." + +"Oh, no; you were asked, and you must come. Derrick will be furious if +you don't." + +"That won't distress me," said Joan, laughing. Then she stood still for +a moment, watching a flock of curlews overhead. + +"Could you bring one of them down?" said Banty with gleaming eyes. "I +could, if I had my gun." + +"I suppose it is the sense of skill in aim that pleases," said Joan, +looking at her thoughtfully; "it can't be shedding blood." + +"Don't talk like a Quaker! I thought you were a good sort! Derrick +swears you are." + +There was a little silence between the two; then Banty said abruptly: + +"I should die of the dumps if I were in your shoes, and yet you look so +jolly." + +"What is the matter with my shoes? They fit me well." Then a quick +sigh escaped her. "Don't try to make me discontented; some people put +their feet into the wrong shoes, and then comes disaster. I think, +personally, I should like to exchange mine for a bigger pair. But if +it's not to be, it is not." + +"I only meant I couldn't stand pottering about the village and teaching +village children and visiting the sick." + +"Teaching is glorious!" said Joan with sudden enthusiasm. "There is +nothing equal to it. Fancy being able to take a hand in moulding or +forming a character. That is work that will last for an eternity." + +Banty stared at her. She always dropped a subject which she did not +understand, and she did so now. + +Then Joan began to talk about the country and dogs and horses. Banty +waxed eloquent at once. They talked and walked together, and when Banty +eventually turned back and Joan went on her way alone, Banty, for one, +determined to pursue the acquaintance already begun. + +An hour later Joan was returning in the dusk. As she was passing a +rather lonely group of pines her small terrier dashed forward, barking +furiously. She saw in the gloom a man's stooping figure, and as Bob +would not obey her call, she stepped over to see what was the matter. +She could not recognise the man in the dusk, but his voice was that of +a gentleman, and he was extricating his own dog from a gin. There was a +clump of gorse and brambles in which one had been set for rabbits. + +"Can I help at all?" Joan asked sympathetically. "I do hope he isn't +much hurt." + +"One of his legs, poor little brute. I don't think it is broken; but he +is awfully frightened. These confounded gins ought not to be set in the +open." + +"No; it is very wrong. I'm afraid it is some of the village boys." + +Then, seeing the poor little leg was bleeding, she took out her +handkerchief. + +"Do let me bind him up. I ought to be good at bandages, as I've passed +all the exams. in ambulance classes that I can." + +"I shall be much obliged. Men are always clumsier than women." + +Together they bent over the small dog, who had been snapping at +everybody and everything in his pain, but, once released, was now lying +exhausted and panting on the ground. + +Joan did not take long to bandage the wounded leg, and then advised his +master to bathe it well on reaching home. He thanked her courteously, +evidently did not want to accompany her to the village, for he turned +off at right angles, the dog in his arms; and Joan knew perfectly well +that there was no house in the direction which he took. She smiled to +herself. + +"I shouldn't wonder if that was Major Armitage. I wish I could have +seen his face." + +When she reached home, she found Derrick making himself very agreeable +to Mrs. Adair and Cecil. + +"Ah, here you are!" he said, jumping up and bringing a low chair to the +fire. "Sit down and give an account of yourself. Your mother and I have +been hard on at politics. We don't agree, of course; but we've agreed +to differ. I wish I knew as much about our Constitution and its laws as +Mrs. Adair does." + +Joan sat down and told them about the stranger and his dog. + +"That's Armitage, right enough," said Derrick. "Old Jossy asked him to +shoot. He came out one day; not a bad shot, but a regular dumb dog. We +each had a try at him. He is too cussedly indifferent to us to open his +lips, and declines all invitations to meals. What is he making himself +into a hermit for, I'd like to know?" + +"Artistic temperament," said Cecil. "You must make allowances. Mother, +can't we call upon him? I want to see his house. I'm quite curious to +see it." + +"Your father will call," Mrs. Adair said. + +"I'll bet you a fiver you won't get inside his door," Derrick said, +turning to Cecil. + +"Done!" said Cecil. "And I'll do it within this next week!" + +"I don't think you will do anything that a lady ought not to do," Mrs. +Adair said very quietly; and then she took up a book, and the young +people chatted on. + +Joan began relating her visit to an old woman who had sent a message to +her that she wished to see her "very special." + +"''Tis me dyin' wishes, me dear,' she said to me when I got there, 'an' +if your mem'ry b'ain't bettern mine, you'd best write of it down.' So, +of course, I got pen and ink and prepared to do it in style. + +"''Tis short, me dear. Fust and last, me savin's, in me best chiny +teapot, must be spent on me grave, so's to spite Tom's nephews, which +be chucklin' over me departure. An' me monyment must be a tasty bit o' +stone what will attrac' the toury folk. 'Twill be comfortin' to think +on 'em hangin' over me wi' admirin' eyes; not to mention bein' the envy +o' that stuck-up Lizzie White, who did have a wooden cross with two +doves, and went an' whitewashed it ev'ry Sat'dy; an' all for a drinkin' +rascal who oughter be lyin' lowest of the low!' I tried to get her into +a better state of mind before I left." + +"I don't doubt that," said Derrick, joining in Cecil's clear laugh; +"but I reckon you failed." + +"I'm afraid I did." + +Joan's laughing face grew grave. + +"What must it feel like to lie on a bed waiting for death?" + +"For mercy's sake, Joan, don't be so gruesome," said Cecil; "and don't +talk any more about your old women; we get so sick of them." + +"You're both to come to dinner on Thursday," announced Derrick, looking +at Joan very straightly. "Old Jossy has too many men, and I've come to +get another lady." + +"Lady Gascoigne has written to me," said Cecil. "I wrote a refusal +first, and then I tore it up. I want to see this Wilmot Gascoigne. Are +he and Banty going to make a match of it?" + +"Surely never!" ejaculated Derrick. "Why, Banty wouldn't touch him with +a pair of tongs; and he doesn't know she's in the universe. He's in the +clouds all his days. He reeks of fusty musty books and parchment, and +is a walking encyclopædia of the Gascoigne ancestors. Their present +descendants he regards as clods of earth. The only word he's spoken to +me was when he was watching us depart after the hunt breakfast last +week. He had been listening to Banty's conversation with one of her +hunting pals. I can't say she shone on that occasion; she never does in +conversation. + +"'Great Scott!' he ejaculated. 'And is that a specimen of a civilised +and educated woman? She's a brainless savage, and is living seventeen +or eighteen centuries too late!'" + +"What a nasty little man!" said Cecil. + +"His inches are not few, let me tell you. He tops me by a good many." + +"He doesn't sound pleasant," said Joan. "Banty is his own cousin, and +her parents are giving him a home." + +"He thinks no small beer of himself, I can tell you." + +"I will reduce him, if I get a chance," said Cecil, nodding her head +determinedly. + +The talk went on till Derrick took his departure. Joan went off to +her father's study to discuss parish matters, and Cecil turned to her +mother a little plaintively. + +"Derrick seems to think Joan is overworked and I am a lazy malingerer." + +"Is Derrick's opinion of any value to you?" + +Mrs. Adair shut up her book and looked down upon her daughter with +smiling tolerance. + +"I value everybody's liking," said Cecil thoughtfully. + +"I think you are rather lazy," her mother said. "I wish you would +interest yourself more in the topics of the day. There is so much +to read and learn of what is taking place. We are all a part of our +Empire's history, and ought to have knowledge of the different currents +that form and make it." + +"Oh, Mother, don't be prosy," said Cecil, a little impatiently. "I +dare say Banty and I are in the same category, only sport is her life, +and pleasure—society—is mine. I know I shall get hipped before long. I +can't think why father and Joan are so enchanted to live here. It is an +awful little hole. I can't breathe, and the grey cold is appalling!" + +"Are you not feeling well?" + +"I never feel fit in England. I hate the winters, and this poky little +village is worse than living in a town. Of course, the house is better. +It seems to me that even Joan is getting cramped in her ideas. She can +talk of nothing but the village." + +"It is a small life—a country parson's," her mother admitted; "but you +should occupy yourself with books." + +Cecil gave a little impatient sigh. + +"Joan is the good daughter and I'm the wicked one," she said; "and +father's happiness and content in his small sphere makes me feel +impatient with him." + +Her mother made no reply. Cecil often voiced her own discontent. + + + +CHAPTER V + +RENUNCIATION + +THE dinner at the Hall went off very well. Cecil was quite happy, +seated between Derrick and a young soldier, Captain Harry Clavering, +who took her in. Joan's lot was Wilmot Gascoigne. He was a tall, +intellectual-looking man, with dreamy eyes and a slight sarcastic +curl to his lips. But when he talked and smiled he was an attractive +personality. He certainly did not appear to despise women's society, +for he turned to Joan at once. + +"You are our organist, are you not? I have never had the chance before +of coming to near quarters with you, but I study your profile in +church." + +"How dreadful!" laughed Joan. "I hope you are not a physiognomist?" + +"No," he said audaciously; "but you are good to look at, and too +feminine in appearance to be a college student. I hear you were at +Girton?" + +"Yes. I wonder why men always imagine that the cultivation of the +intellect alters the sex of a woman?" + +"Please don't let us discuss any sex questions. They are so stale +nowadays." + +Joan would not be snubbed; but he suddenly plunged into the subject +of architecture as seen in the university colleges, and Joan, who was +devoted to that subject, forgot everything else. From the delicate fan +tracery in King's Chapel, Cambridge, they wandered off to continental +cathedrals, and Joan held her breath as she listened, entranced by his +clever and rapid talk. Then he came back to literature, and here Joan +could hold her ground. She and he were so absorbed in discussing Horace +Walpole's letters, as compared with Pope's, that their dinner was +forgotten. Joan could not say afterwards which courses she had taken +and which she had left. She only felt profound regret when the ladies +left the table. In the drawing-room Banty stalked up to her. + +"What on earth was Motty saying to you? He hasn't been so lively since +he's been with us." + +"Oh, I think he is so interesting," said Joan. "I envy you having +him in the house. He must be a mine of knowledge. I should be always +digging some of it out of him." + +"Why, he doesn't know a hen from a pheasant!" gasped Banty. "And would +as soon ride a cart horse as a hunter. He's simply impossible!" + +When the gentlemen came in, Joan was taken possession of by Derrick. + +"No," he said; "don't you cast sheep's eyes at old Motty. I've +introduced him to your mother, and they'll go ahead like a house +afire. I was ashamed to look at you at dinner. You were hanging on his +words like a fish on a hook. Just hang on mine like it, will you? It's +extraordinary what a gift of the gab will do." + +"You are so very mediocre," said Joan, smiling, and showing her dimple. +"I never feel with you that I can improve my opportunity. I learn +nothing by being in your society." + +"That is because you're so book-proud. Don't tell me you learnt +anything from Motty. He loves to pose as a literary swell; but I know +he reads up for conversation like mad. Because he impresses a certain +small, stodgy set in town, and fails to impress us, he thinks he +isn't appreciated down here; and he'd discourse with pleasure to an +open-mouthed goose if he thought that goose admired him." + +"Do you insinuate—" + +"I never insinuate. I hated to see his self-satisfied smirk and your +animated and fervent homage to his intellect." + +"How I wish you would grow up," said Joan. + +"I've heard that remark before. Aren't we all a scratch lot to-night?" + +He nodded towards a little circle round the fire, which contained Banty +and her father. + +"That's our hunting set," he said. "Cecil is trying to do the smart +town set. She has two of the most go-ahead chaps talking to her now. +Lady Gascoigne and those three dowagers are gossiping over that poor +chap who is shutting himself away from his kind. 'So wrong of him,' I +heard one of them say. She and her daughters run to earth every fresh +bachelor. Your mother and Motty are the literary clique." + +"And what are we?" asked Joan. "I don't think our conversation is very +uplifting at present." + +"Don't interrupt me. Your father and the Miss Grays and those two +parsons represent the clerical section; and you and I, Joan, we are +just chums." + +His glance down at her had something more than affection in it. + +Joan would not notice it, and she moved over to Lady Gascoigne, +deliberately avoiding Derrick for the rest of the evening. + +Mrs. Adair returned home with a great liking for Wilmot Gascoigne. + +"The first intelligent man I have met for a long time," she said. "I +suppose it sounds conceited of me to say so, but these country squires +are, as a rule, very slow-witted, and the clergy have minds as narrow +as their stipends." + +"My dear Cecilia," said her husband good-temperedly, "you are very +severe on the poor clergy, but I am glad you enjoyed yourself. I +thought you would. These social gatherings are very pleasant." + +"I couldn't get any innings with Motty, as they call him," said Cecil. +"But I suppose he will find his way round here, if you like him, +Mother." + +Joan said nothing. She felt that she would see little more of Wilmot +whilst her mother was interested in him. Mrs. Adair was a very +fascinating woman, and she knew it. + +Joan received a letter the next morning which sent her about her +household duties with an absent mind and clouded brow. It was to remind +her that there were other applicants waiting for the post which had +been offered her, and that she must delay no longer in sending her +reply. + +At luncheon the rector said in his genial way: + +"Cecilia, my dear, I want to have a small parish gathering soon—a +kind of house warming. I want my parishioners to know you; there are +farmers' wives scattered over the heath, and many who used to know us +in the old days. It would be nice to gather them together and make them +feel that we are their friends. Joan suggests Christmas, but that is a +long way off. What do you think about it? And do you think you could +manage to say a few words to them? You are so clever at expressing +yourself that I am sure you would not find it difficult. It would +please me very much if you would." + +Mrs. Adair slowly shook her head. + +"No, John, I have never interfered with your province, and I have some +visits I must make to some of my own people. My brother in Edinburgh +has asked me to take Cecil there for a few weeks. It is a long time +since I have seen him, so I should like to go." + +"It is an expensive journey," said Mr. Adair in disconsolate tones; +"but we must postpone our gathering till you come back." + +"Pray don't think of such a thing. Joan and you are quite equal to +entertaining them. You know how I loathe parish functions of any sort!" + +There was a little silence. The rector was bitterly disappointed that +his wife was thinking of leaving him again so soon. In a few moments he +said: + +"I hoped, my dear, after your long sojourn abroad you were going to +settle down quietly here for the winter." + +"I am never going to give up seeing my own people." + +Mrs. Adair's tone was proud and cold. + +The rector heaved a sigh. + +"Well, well, a few weeks will soon pass; and we shall have you back +again." + +Then Joan spoke, though she knew it was an unpropitious moment. + +"I am wondering if I must decline this post of teaching that has been +offered me. I told you about it, Mother. It is a chance that may never +come to me again." + +"Your father and you must settle that together," said Mrs. Adair; "if +he can spare you, I have no objection to offer." + +"He must have one of us here," said Joan slowly. + +Cecil looked up laughing. + +"My dear Joan, there is tragedy in your tone. Be thankful that your +duties keep you here, instead of going out to earn your bread. You know +quite well that you are the only one of us that is cut out for parish +work. I should make a pretty hash of it if tried to step into your +shoes!" + +"Such a possibility is not to be considered," her mother said quickly +and a little sharply. "You have not the health to do it." + +Joan pushed back her chair and left the room abruptly. Her soul was +turbulent and rebellious. She went up to her little whitewashed room, +and sinking on her knees laid her hot head on the broad window ledge. + +"Oh, God! It is hard. Am I cut out for parish work? Has not my training +been for a wider sphere? Why should my talents be buried? An open door +before me, with a vista of influence and power, and—and success. Yes, +I know I could fill it. I know it is in me to mould, and organise, and +rule, and yet I must shut this door and turn my back on it. And Cecil +is doing nothing, absolutely nothing with her life. It would give her +a new lease of life if she left her health alone and thought of others +more. Oh, it is hard! It is unfair! I feel inclined to break away from +it all!" + +Hot tears rose to her eyes. She clenched her hands convulsively. Though +she had known instinctively she could not leave home, she had hoped +against hope that her circumstances might change. She could not bring +herself to write the necessary refusal, and knelt there battling with +her lifelong desires, and the duty that was crushing them into dust. + +But in about half an hour's time her brow smoothed, and the light +returned to her eyes. If joy was at present in abeyance, resignation +and content had become the victor. + +"I will be strong in patience, that is as far as I can see at present." +Then a twinkle shot into her eye. "Perhaps if I can't teach and rule on +this earth, I may do it in the Millennium!" + +She got out her writing-case and wrote her letter in a firm hand. After +she had sealed it, she sat looking out of her window. + +"A great renunciation," she said to herself; "and yet nobody will +believe it. Cecil laughs at the notion. But I have not done it very +willingly. Now I must look forward, and never back at it. That phase in +my life is over. Thank God, I can still impart knowledge, though of a +different kind, to my small Sunday scholars. And I dare say from above +it looks the highest class after all. What a lovely afternoon! I will +go and get the apples in." + +She ran lightly downstairs, and sang her way down the garden into +the orchard. Cecil heard her. She was in an easy chair before the +drawing-room fire, a novel in her hand. + +"What a happy creature Joan is," she said to her mother, who as usual +was at her writing-desk. "She is like father, easily satisfied in her +small surroundings." + +Mrs. Adair looked thoughtfully out into the garden. "I never have +understood Joan," she said, more to herself than to Cecil, "but the +present weighs more than the future in her calculations. Her apples at +this moment are the most important things in the world." + +When Joan and the odd man had finished their task, she came into the +house to find that Cecil had gone out, and her mother was lying down in +her room. The drawing-room fire was out; she ran into the kitchen and +sent Jenny in to relight it. Then Sophia, who was plucking a chicken, +detained her. + +"Sit you down, Miss Joan, I want a word with ye. There's no getting a +bit of talk with you these days." + +Joan dropped into a rocking chair by the fire. + +"I would like to sit here for an hour, Sophia. You have the knack of +making the kitchen the pleasantest place in the world. When I marry—if +ever I do—I shall live in my kitchen." + +"Stuff! We'll wish you a grand match, Miss Joan; may you be one of they +who gives orders only and has the staff to carry 'em out. Do ye know +where Miss Cecil be off to?" + +"No; where?" + +"She have taken a note from me to Maria. Aye, she would have it, she +be just wild to get into that house, so she tells me, and, Miss Joan, +'tis no house for a lady, and what is more, no lady is to cross the +threshold." + +"You sound very mysterious. What has Maria been telling you?" + +"A good deal not to be repeated. But I'll tell you this, Miss Joan, +Major Armitage be wrong in his head. There be no doubt of that." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"You'll keep a still tongue over it? I wouldn't let the mistress hear +it nor yet Miss Cecil. He be quite unkenny as the Scotch say. You must +know Maria do a lot of waitin' on him at times. She says at a certain +hour every afternoon in the gloaming—from six to seven—he sits in his +big room, the music-room he calls it, because of the big pianny, but +Maria calls it the library, for the walls be pretty well covered with +books. He takes a big chair by the fire, and he pulls another, a soft +ladyish cushioned one, which no one never sits on, opposite him, then +he smokes his pipe and he talks in a low tone which makes your blood +curdle, not all at once on end, Maria says, but just a word here an' +there, and a soft tender like whisper at times." + +Joan laughed at Sophia's awed face. + +"Why, lots of lonely people talk to themselves; I do very often when +I'm out walking." + +"Miss Joan, 'tis this way, and Maria says it as knows, he be talkin' to +someone not to be seen, 'a-sittin' in that chair!'" + +"Good gracious! What do you mean?" + +"Well, I be charitable and say the poor man be not right in his +head. There be people who might say he were temperin' and playin' +with spirits. Maria come in one evenin', and he never heard her, and +he leant across to the chair, and he says quite distinct, 'Will you +listen, sweet, and tell me how you like it?' And then he walks to the +pianny and he plays, Maria said, like an angel. And once he looks back +over his shoulder at the chair and smiles, such a smile as a man gives +the one he dotes on." + +Joan began to look interested. + +"Go on, Sophia, tell me more. But I don't think Maria ought to spy on +him." + +"'Twas by accident, but he have given orders that nobody disturbs him +from six to seven every night. And there be other things, Miss Joan. +He have told Maria that any gentlemen who call on him must be shown +into the smokin'-room, but no lady on any pretence whatever is to put +her foot over the threshold of the big front door. And he goes up to +the little boudoir which he keeps the key of himself, and he puts +fresh flowers every two or three days in it. But Maria dursn't ask a +question. Maybe the lady be dead, and he be keepin' communion with +her spirit, but 'tis a heathenish thing, and I think his poor mind be +disturbed." + +Joan did not answer. + +"So, Miss Joan," pursued Sophia, "I want you to keep Miss Cecil out of +his way, and you know what she always was like when a body wanted her +to do or not to do, so determined to do contrariwise. The less a young +lady has to do with such a man the better. Not but what Maria says +he be kind and considerate and sensible in all other ways. And he be +lookin' into his estate in the right sort of way, and talkin' friendly +with the tenants. But he must have a kink in his brain, or be in league +with spirits." + +"I wish you hadn't told me, Sophia. Maria ought not to have spied upon +him. His private life has nothing to do with us. You won't let this +gossip get about the village?" + +"Now what do you take me for? Don't I know that you're a safe person +to tell things to? But Miss Cecil may get in at the back door—she +certainly won't get in at the front." + +Joan got up from the chair on which she had been sitting. + +"I dare say Major Armitage is a child at heart, and was making believe +as I used to do! I won't believe anything 'unkenny' about him, Sophia." + +She met Cecil a little later coming in from the garden. + +"I've bearded the hermit in his den!" she cried out gaily. "I told +Derrick I would. I've been chatting in his kitchen, to Maria, who seems +gloomy and mysterious. The Major was out, but I met him walking up the +drive as I was coming away. + +"'I haven't been to call upon you,' I said to him, 'but to take a +message to your cook. Don't you remember me?' + +"Fancy, he had the impertinence to say that he did not! I reminded him +of the hotel abroad. He looked bored, lifted his hat and walked on. I +have never been so snubbed in my life." + +"I wish you hadn't gone," said Joan. "It puts you in a false position." + +"Oh, don't be so conventional! He wants to be taken out of himself." + +Then she sank down on a chair in the hall. + +"I'm tired to death. I hate the country, Joan! I haven't met a single +soul on the way there or back." + +Joan stood still and looked at her with a little impatience and some +tenderness in her eyes. + +"I wonder," she said slowly, "what work you were meant to do when you +were sent into the world?" + +Cecil gazed at her in silence for a moment, then said: + +"You do say such prosy things. Work! Everybody is not made for work. I +am sure I wasn't. This life in a parsonage is nothing but work! You are +just a slave of the village, Joan." + +"It's happy slavery, then," said Joan, laughing, "for I'm getting to +love them all, and, when you love, slavery isn't in it." + +Cecil would vouchsafe no reply. She dragged herself up from her chair +and went into the drawing-room to her mother. + +Joan turned into her father's study. There was a good deal of parish +work to be discussed between them. She found him now with his head in +his hands, and his elbows on his writing-table, doing nothing. It was +such an unusual position for him that she wondered. + +"Are you asleep, Dad, dear?" + +Mr. Adair turned heavy eyes and anxious brow at the sound of her voice; +then his face cleared. + +"Not asleep. I wish I were," he said, trying to speak lightly. "I +am only thinking about ways and means, Joan. My pass book is not a +pleasant sight." + +Joan knelt down by his side and her tone was almost motherly. + +"Don't worry. We shall be better off soon. You have had such heavy +expenses coming here. We shall not have those again." + +He did not answer; then a heavy sigh escaped him. "Your mother means to +go abroad again in January. She told me so this morning." + +This was the cause of his depression. Joan could hardly trust herself +to speak. + +"Perhaps she will change her mind before the time comes. We won't live +in the future, Dad, dear. Leave January to take care of itself." + +"I suppose you couldn't have a talk with her, Joan? Women understand +each other. I always seem to bungle. I really don't know how we can +afford it. I simply shall not have the money to send her this year. +I withdrew almost the last of my private capital last year. I have +been doing it for years, but that has come to an end, and if anything +happened to me, I should leave you utterly unprovided for. Your +mother's money could not support you. It is not nearly enough for +herself and for Cecil." + +"But I think and hope I could support myself," said Joan gently. "Don't +bother over that. We will hope that you will be spared to us for many a +long day yet." + +Then she added in a different tone: + +"I will try to have a talk with Mother again about it." She pressed +a light kiss on his forehead, then persisted in talking to him about +some of his parishioners, and for the time Mr. Adair laid his private +trouble aside. Yet when she was about to leave him, he called her back. + +"I hoped, Joan, my dear, I thought we had such a pretty, comfortable +home now—I am sure you have taken such pains in making it fresh and +home-like, I did think it would have been an inducement to your mother +to settle down here. And there are such nice friendly people round. I +have been wondering if we could not find some people who might take +Cecil abroad at a slight expense—I have heard of it being done—if she +would make herself useful to them, I mean, and then your mother would +not be obliged to go. She could stay at home with us." + +Joan almost smiled. + +"No, Dad, dear; Mother will never let Cecil leave her wing. I will talk +over things with her. But Mother is not dependent on house comfort. She +has so many other things in her life." + +"I thought a nice, pretty home would satisfy any woman," said Mr. +Adair, sighing; "I told your mother so." + +Joan tried to imagine her mother's feelings at hearing that sentiment. +But she had an overwhelming pity for her simple, kindly old father, and +when she left him, it was with tears rising in her eyes. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A MOTHER'S CONFIDENCES + +IT was not until the following day that Joan had an opportunity to talk +with her mother, and then, as she wanted some things which the village +could not produce, Joan drove her over to shop in the small town of +Coppleton. + +The little jingle did credit to Joan's painting, and the old pony +trotted briskly along. It was a lovely still October afternoon. The +woods were clothed in shimmering gold and brown, the sky was a pure +pale blue, and the dark slender pines stood out in silhouettes against +the horizon. A happy smile played about Joan's lips; she raised her +head, and exclaimed: + +"Isn't it delicious air, Mother? It is so exhilarating." + +"I find it cold," Mrs. Adair said, drawing her fur cloak tightly round +her. + +Joan tucked the rug more completely over her knees. + +And then she said a little abruptly: "I have sent in my refusal to that +offer made me, Mother." + +"You mean the post of teacher somewhere?" + +"Yes." + +"I think you are wise. I do not see how your father could get on +without you here." + +"No; and he tells me you are wanting to go abroad again this winter?" + +"It is the beginning of the year and the early spring, that tries Cecil +so," said Mrs. Adair slowly. "She is already getting back her cough +again here, which I hoped she had lost altogether." + +"Father and I are woefully disappointed," said Joan impulsively. "He +is not so young as he was; he worships the ground you tread upon, and +feels your absence keenly. His heart has been set upon keeping you at +home this winter. I suppose it is not possible for Cecil to go abroad +without you?" + +"Hardly," said Mrs. Adair with a little laugh, "and, my dear Joan, +your father will not miss us when we are gone. I cannot, as you know, +throw myself into the small life of a small village. There is always an +undercurrent of friction and dissatisfaction when we are home. It is my +fault. You are a woman now and I suppose you have your own thoughts and +ideals. They must take you farther than the horizon of Old Bellerton. +Your father considers that the four walls of a house is the boundary of +a woman's life work and ambition. But then he has a wrong conception +of the size of a woman's intellect. And I suppose he, and the class of +thinkers like him, are mainly responsible for the rebellious outbursts +of many girls who are now swelling the body of militant suffragettes." + +"Yes," said Joan quietly; "but you have seen a lot of life, Mother, and +must feel, as even I do, that old-fashioned notions about women are not +always cruel or criminal." + +"Your father is one of the kindest and most tender-hearted men that I +have ever known," said Mrs. Adair quickly. Then she laughed. "We are +a very modern mother and daughter to be discussing the head of the +house in this fashion. But in choosing a husband, Joan, goodness and +kindness of heart are not everything. I suppose a broad outlook on life +and intellectual aspirations are not conducive towards content and +happiness, when one's companion for life is offering one crumbs from +his table." + +[Illustration: JOAN WENT DOWN ON HER KNEES BEFORE HER MOTHER +IMPULSIVELY, AND TOOK HER HANDS IN HERS.] + +"Oh, Mother!" + +Joan's exclamation was involuntary. + +Mrs. Adair pulled herself up. + +"I have no business to speak so. I don't know why I chafe under the +masculine rule. Your father would cut off his right hand for me, but +to him the limits of a woman's wants and desires are astoundingly +infinitesimal, and his estimate of her capacity in life is what any +upper servant would fulfil." + +"Yes," murmured Joan; "but he never interferes or tries to dictate to +one." + +"Well, all this is beside the mark. Cecil's health is the main +question. I will not see her droop and die in uncongenial soil if I +can prevent it. You are strong, Joan, and cannot understand how the +aggressive biting cold of this village can shrivel up the low vitality +of a delicate organisation. Your father accepted this living without +any reference to me. He wrote of it as a godsend; and yet he must have +known that the seeds of disease were sown in both our boys in this +neighbourhood." + +Joan looked at her mother with startled eyes. + +"I did not know," she murmured. + +"You were born," Mrs. Adair continued, "when I was a happy girl living +in close touch with my old friends and old life. Poverty and privation +were unknown to me, for my father's cheque-book was continually +supplying extra comforts for us. When we came here, I began to +experience the humiliation and misery of a narrow income. Both boys +were born when I was least able to mother and nurse them. They and +Cecil never had a chance. You take after your father's family, they +took after mine, and the cold, biting winters here aggravated their +delicacy. I could not rear them in comfort, as they should have been +reared, and my handsome boys were taken from me before they had seen +anything of life." + +She paused. She could not even now mention the loss of her sons with +composure. + +"I suppose I was ambitious," she went on. "As you know, I come from +a race of soldiers who have all earned their country's gratitude for +their achievements. Do you think it is nothing to me to have no sons to +follow in their grandfather's footsteps, to leave a name behind them, +to bequeath in their turn sons to serve our Empire?" + +There was such passion in Mrs. Adair's tone that Joan was speechless. +The mother had never confided in her daughter so fully before. And Joan +understood for the first time that it was the want of resignation to +her loss that was the canker eating away at her heart, and marring much +in her strong and purposeful character. After a few minutes' silence, +Joan said softly: + +"Perhaps you may yet have grandsons to serve their country. Cecil is +most attractive. She will marry." + +Mrs. Adair heaved a deep sigh. + +"She has nothing of a constitution. I feel she may slip away from me as +the boys did." + +This little talk with her mother made Joan sympathise with her more +than she had ever done before. She had always known that she occupied +a very small place in her mother's affections. Her very health and +strength were almost an offence. + +"Like Father's family," said Joan to herself later that day. "Well, I +will not wish myself otherwise. I would not have a Lovell's nervous, +high-strung organisation, in spite of their aristocratic refinement and +dainty graces, because someone must be strong and uniformly cheerful +in the house; someone must shoulder the daily vexations and worries, +and my shoulders are strong enough and broad enough to bear them. Poor +Mother! She lives in haunting dread that death may snatch away her +last treasure from her. And poor Father! To be so delighted with this +living, and to imagine that Mother has no remembrances of the past! How +I wish I had known more about those early struggling days here. I think +I should have persuaded him to stay where he was. There is no possible +hope now of her ever becoming reconciled to living here." + +She made these reflections in her own room after returning from the +drive. And when tea was over she took her organ key and slipped over +to the church to have a practice by herself. She was just summoning a +small boy from a cottage near to come and blow for her, when she heard +strains of music coming from the church. She abandoned her intention +and crept softly up into the old porch. There was no doubt that a +master hand was upon the keys of her beloved organ. She held her +breath, entranced, and then very noiselessly slipped inside and sat +down upon a seat behind a big pillar, which effectually concealed her +from view. Only two candles were lighted; Major Armitage was seated +on her stool and was pouring out his soul in a flood of passionate, +vibrating melody, though there was a hush and a sense of restrained +force through every note he touched. + +Joan had an intense love for music, and her ears quickly perceived that +a strain of unfulfilled desire and expectation was in his music, and it +made her heart ache to hear it. She almost felt that she was intruding +upon a sacred time, when a soul was baring its griefs and longings, and +for one moment she felt inclined to leave. + +Then the music died away. A short silence fell, and then suddenly, in a +soft, mellow tenor, he began to sing. The words were familiar, but Joan +had never heard such an exquisite setting to them. She concluded it was +an anthem, and yet from the harmony, it seemed more fitted for a solo. + + "I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word + do I hope. + My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch + for the morning; I say more than they that watch + for the morning." + +As he played, the darkness of the night seemed to loom around them, and +then the first faint light of dawn took its place. + +The triumphant emphasis of the first words, the assurance that waiting +was the soul's steadfast and hopeful attitude, imprinted itself upon +Joan's soul. When the Major came to a pause, she stole out of the +church, and her eyes were moist with emotion. + +"No wonder Maria said he played like an angel! How I long to have his +gift! I wish I knew him!" + +Then she shook her head with a little smile. + +"There are other people in the world who are practising patience like +myself." + +When she joined the others, she found that her father was giving them +an account of his visit to the Major. + +"A very pleasant and well-informed man. He has been through deep +waters. He just touched upon his profession. I should like you to have +heard the way he spoke of it, Cecilia, and the grief it was to him when +he left it. But he told me his father had a place in Yorkshire with a +private chapel attached—it has gone to his eldest brother now—and from +quite a youngster he spent all his spare time at the organ. Music is +his hobby. He sometimes plays the organ at Queen's Hall, in town, for +the weekly popular concerts. And I believe he composes and publishes. +He told me if his blindness had continued, he would have become an +organist somewhere. This place belonged to his mother, and she left it +to him. He thought he ought to come down and live here, he said; but I +think his heart is in town. I begged him to dine with us, but he asked +me to excuse him. He walked back with me, and then went into the church +to try the organ." + +"I have just heard him playing there," said Joan. + +"It is a treat to listen to him," said Cecil. "But it is very surly of +him to shut himself away from society." + +"He may have reasons for it," said Joan. In her mind's eye, Sophia's +graphic picture came before her—the lonely man in the empty room, +playing to somebody unseen. + + +There was a good deal of bustle in the rectory for the next few days. +Mrs. Adair and Cecil were packing and getting ready for their Edinburgh +visit. Cecil had plenty of mending, which she laughingly turned over to +Joan. + +"You are a born needlewoman; I am not. Oh, how I wish I could afford to +have a maid of my own!" + +Mr. Adair did not approve of this visit. + +"You say this place is cold for Cecil; why, Edinburgh will be a hundred +times as cold. It is the wrong time of year to go up to Scotland." + +This remark was made to his wife. + +She answered him impatiently. + +"My brother's house is rather different from ours. It is heated with +radiators, and has every comfort. Cecil will be in the lap of luxury." + +He sighed. + +"I am afraid it will be an expensive visit for so short a time." + +His wife did not reply. She had made up her mind to go, and nothing +would prevent her. She was not entirely heartless or indifferent to +her husband's struggles to make both ends meet; but she had never +been able to economise, and money seemed to leak away through her +finger ends. She had periodical fits of retrenchment, but after making +herself and everyone around her perfectly miserable by knocking off +real necessities, she would relapse into her old happy-go-lucky way and +spend as if she were a wealthy woman. + +"I shall be thankful to get to a house with the 'Times' in it," she +said to Joan that evening, as she turned over the local paper rather +impatiently. "It is no wonder everyone is so sleepy in these parts. You +have not even a magazine club going." + +"We are starting one," said Joan quickly. "I suggested it, and if +everyone will join, there will be no difficulty. I felt the dearth of +books when I came here. Mr. Wilmot Gascoigne is taking the matter up, +and they say what he does at all he does thoroughly." + +"It is strange that he has not called," Mrs. Adair said. "He told me he +quite intended to do so." + +The very next day, he was announced about tea-time. When tea was over, +he sat and talked to Mrs. Adair. Cecil yawned, and finally took up her +novel, saying audaciously: + +"I hate listening to other people's talk. And I cannot join in myself, +for you are flying from one subject to another, and each one is deeper +than the last. I'll leave the listening to Joan, who appreciates it." + +"But we want Miss Adair to be more than a listener," said Wilmot, +turning to Joan as he spoke. + +Joan was too interested to remain silent. Wilmot Gascoigne was a good +talker, and, what was rarer still, he liked to listen to others. Mrs. +Adair and he had many things in common; but when they touched on +politics, Joan became silent. + +"I am no politician," she said, when Wilmot asked her opinion upon a +certain statesman. "Everybody always believes in himself or his party, +and seldom credits those who disagree with him with either principles +or common sense. I should like the party spirit ousted from our +Government." + +Wilmot shook his head. + +"It sounds simple, but it would be inextricably involved. If there +were no longer two parties, the balance of power would be lost. And +would measures ever be passed? Imagine the length of discussion when +every member would have his individual idea, and each and all have a +different scheme to propose." + +"Everything is sacrificed to party now," said Joan; and then she was +called out of the room by Sophia, who had someone from the village +waiting to see her. + +When she came back, her mother and Wilmot were discussing Venetian +history. He stayed for a couple of hours, but before going told Joan +he would like to send her down a couple of new books on Constitutional +History, and she accepted the offer with much pleasure. + +"I quite agree with Derrick," said Cecil, when he had gone away; "he is +as dogmatic and book-musty as all such bookworms are. He is the kind of +man who thinks any book above criticism, just because it is a book." + +"Now, Cecil, you are talking nonsense," said her mother. "He is a man +who has learnt as well as read. You can feel it in every word he says." + + +The next day they went. And Joan felt at first a terrible blank in the +house, though she had infinite more leisure, which she occupied by +visiting the parishioners. + +Derrick met her coming home very tired one afternoon, after a long +round. + +"Take my arm," he said. + +Joan looked at him with laughing eyes. + +"The village would see us, and say we were courting," she said. + +"It is a capital suggestion," said Derrick eagerly. "Let us begin at +once." + +Joan rebuked this levity. + +He heaved a sigh. + +"I'm going back to town to-morrow, and to work. Joan, don't you think, +as an old pupil of the Dominie's, and an attached and grateful friend, +I might be asked to spend Christmas at the rectory?" + +Joan looked grave and considered. + +"I don't think so, Derrick. We expect Mother and Cecil back, and our +house is small. It sounds inhospitable—" + +"Oh, I'll wait till Easter. You and the Dominie will be alone then. +And, look here, Joan, let me advise you for your good. Don't be getting +too thick with Motty. He's easily flattered, poor brute, and he really +isn't the sort of fellow who will do you any good. What do you think +he told me this morning? He said the annals of his family ought to be +kept in the Zoo, for, as far as he could see, they had never got beyond +their animal powers. Fighting, eating, drinking composed their lives, +and that in no record since the Conquest could he find a Gascoigne who +was a scholar and had used and cultivated the brains which had been +given to him. + +"'But you're a Gascoigne,' I said. + +"You should have seen him rise to the bait. He simply swelled visibly." + +"Derrick, I will not listen to you," said Joan, half laughing, half +vexed. "I thought men's natures were too big to allow of backbiting. +Why do you dislike Wilmot Gascoigne so?" + +"Because you like him," said Derrick manfully and promptly. "And I know +he will be your undoing." + +"You are talking nonsense." + +"So I am. Now, look here, Joan, I mean to talk good, sound, honest, +sober sense with you now. My life and yours have always run together. +But since I have lived in town, we've drifted a wee bit apart, and I +want to remedy this. Will you let me do it in my own way?" + +"No," said Joan quickly, and edging a little away from him. "I have +my life here; you have yours in town. If we meet occasionally as old +friends, it is very pleasant. Don't let anything spoil our friendship. +And, oh, please, Derrick, be merciful this afternoon, for I am very +tired." + +Derrick took her hand and tucked it in his arm. "It is dark," he said. +"Confound convention! Well, I will be patient, but you must realise, +and I don't want you to forget it, that you have a very patient waiting +friend in town. And his determination and patience are vying with each +other in strength and—and in endurance. He will wait till he gets what +he wants, but he will get it in the end." + +Joan's hand trembled a little. She tried to withdraw it, but Derrick +had captured it, and though he felt the quiver of it, he would not let +it go. + +When they were at the rectory gate, he said: + +"This is my good-bye. I leave to-morrow." + +Then his stern gravity melted, and it was in his most coaxing boyish +tone that he said: + +"Oh, Joan, my heart's dearest, do let me kiss your dimple!" + +"You are preposterous, Derrick!" + +Joan fled from him. Half-way up the drive, she turned. He was leaning +his arms on the gate looking after her. + +"Good-bye," she waved. "And work hard for your country, and think of +your party last." + +"I shall come back here for Easter," he said defiantly; "so mind you +keep a spare room ready for me." + +She laughed light-heartedly, and Derrick turned away with her sweet +laugh ringing in his ears, not altogether dissatisfied with his parting +talk with her. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MAJOR'S HOSPITALITY + +JOAN was making apple jam in the kitchen. Jenny was attending on her, +for Sophia had gone to the dentist's in Coppleton; she very seldom had +an afternoon out, and would not have gone now unless Joan had insisted +and had promised to make the jam instead of her. Poor Sophia had had +three days and nights of raging toothache, and Joan bundled her up in +wraps, seated her in the jingle, and the odd man drove her in. + +It was a cold grey afternoon in November. The wind soughed in the old +rectory chimneys, and the sky had that peculiar metallic blue-grey hue +which betokens the coming of snow. Joan looked out of the cosy kitchen +through the window. + +"I would rather be in than out to-day, Jenny, wouldn't you? I hope +Sophia won't be caught in a storm." + +"The master be out too," said Jenny. "Old Dan'l Tucker be taken very +bad and sent for him." + +Joan looked anxious as she turned to her jam and stirred it. + +"I did not know he was going there. It is quite three miles off. I +thought he was only going his round in the village." + +Jam making continued, she could not leave it, but when dusk began to +gather, and neither Sophia nor the rector was back, Joan began to +worry. Snowflakes appeared, not very large at first, but growing bigger +and thicker as time went on. + +At last sounds of wheels across the yard were heard, and Sophia +staggered into the kitchen. + +"Oh, Miss Joan, glad I am to be back. 'Tis blowing a blizzard. I can't +feel my hands or feet." + +"Have you seen Father? He has actually gone across the heath to the +Tuckers. I am quite nervous about him." + +Sophia looked horrified, then she spoke in a reassuring tone. + +"They'll keep him over the night. The Tuckers be superior folk, and +their farm be as big and comfortable as any gentlefolk's. Don't you +fret, Miss Joan. They'll keep him there sure enough." + +"I don't think Father would stay. He would know that I should be +anxious." + +She left the kitchen and went into the dining-room, which gave her a +glimpse of the road for some distance. Mr. Adair had a slight cold, and +Joan remembered now that he had complained of oppression on his chest +that morning. + +"I ought to have looked after him. I was too engrossed in my jam, and +in Sophia's toothache. I ought not to have let him go out at all this +afternoon." + +As she watched at the window, she saw a man in the distance making his +way down the street. For one instant she thought it was her father, and +heaved a sigh of relief, then she saw the figure was taller and more +erect than the old rector was, and she waited to see him approach. He +came in at the rectory gate and up the drive. + +Joan impulsively dashed out into the porch. "Have you come from my +father? Do you know where he is?" + +"Safe in bed at my house, and I hope he will stay there." + +It was Major Armitage who spoke, and in her anxiety, Joan drew him into +the hall. + +"Has he met with an accident? Is he ill?" + +"Well, Miss Adair, the fact is, I came across him leaning up against +my fence a couple of hundred yards from the house. He was panting for +breath, and pretty well exhausted by his tramp across the heath. I took +him straight in and gave him some brandy. It did him good. I consulted +my housekeeper, and she thought that bed was the best place for him. +And then to ease his mind, I came off to tell you where he was. And on +the way, I met the doctor and sent him to have a look at him, for I +think he has some kind of bronchial attack." + +"Come in where there is a fire," said Joan, opening the door of her +father's study. "How kind of you to keep him. But I must go to him; I +understand him. Is he not well enough to come back here to-night?" + +"I shouldn't advise it. By all means come back with me now. Perhaps we +shall find the doctor still there." + +Without a word more, Joan left the room. She called Sophia to her and +told her what had happened, whilst she got ready to go out. + +"Aye, dear Miss Joan, here's trouble. But Maria will know what to do. +She be a first-rate nurse, and maybe to-morrow will find him quite +himself again. 'Tis no use to drag upon our heads the burdens of the +morrow, so we'll just leave it at that. And if it will ease your mind, +just tell Maria to make you up a bed in his room and stay the night. +If you don't come back in the hour, that's what I know you'll do. And +remember, a good mustard poultice will ease his chest!" + +Major Armitage looked about him when he was left alone. He noted the +comfortable chair drawn up to the fire, the warm slippers on the +fender, the dainty little tea-table awaiting the rector's return. And +he muttered to himself: + +"A woman's care." + +Joan was back almost directly. She said very little, but outside, her +swift strides had no trouble in keeping pace with the Major's. + +"It was you who befriended my small dog," said Major Armitage in a +friendly tone. + +"And now you have befriended my father," replied Joan quickly. "I +believe I have been most ungrateful, for I have never expressed my +thanks. I was so anxious at Father's non-appearance that I could think +of no one else." + +"Don't worry over him. A few days' rest and warmth will set him all +right again; but it is not pleasant weather to be out." + +They were met here by a sharp squall of snow and wind. Talking was +impossible. They could hardly keep their footing, and for the rest of +the way they reserved their breath for battling with the elements. He +did not take Joan to the front entrance, but turned in by a side door +and ushered her into a comfortable smoking-room. + +"I hope you don't mind the smell of smoke," he said, drawing up a chair +to the fire for her. "I will send my housekeeper to you, and she will +take you to your father. May I relieve you of your cloak?" + +He helped her out of her snow-covered garment, but as he did so, his +lips snapped together like steel, and a hard stern look came into his +eyes. + +Joan, glancing up at a mirror in front of her, caught sight of the +frowning face behind her. She wondered at it, and then remembered some +of the talk about him, and spoke in her impulsive fashion. + +"I am afraid this is all most unpleasant to you, Major Armitage. Don't +think of entertaining me or coming near me. It is only my father I want +to see." + +He gave a little courteous bow. + +"I hope I know my duties as your host. I assure you I am not a +misanthrope, though I know I do bear a bad character in the village." + +Joan's cheeks grew hot. She felt she had blundered, and then she said +in her natural tone: + +"Oh, dear, I always do say the awkward thing if I can manage it." + +He gave a short laugh. + +"We won't stand upon ceremony with each other. Do sit down and warm +yourself." + +He left the room, and the next moment Maria appeared. + +"Ah, dear Miss Adair. Your pore dear father, there! When I saw him +staggerin' in with the master, I thought he was struck for death! I +assure you his face were a dark purple, and he were gaspin' like a +dyin' fish! But we got him some spirit and put him to bed, and he have +had hot bottles to his feet, and he be now lyin' in a heavy doze, and +his breathin' raucous—well, I must say it is that, but not worse than +to be expected." + +"Take me to him," said Joan as soon as she could get in a word. "Has +the doctor gone?" + +"Yes, has ordered a steam kettle, says it's a sharp attack of +bronchitis, and he mustn't be moved. Come you this way." + +She went upstairs, and Joan followed her, hardly noticing where she +was going, until she found herself in a big comfortable-looking room +with a blazing fire. Her father lying back upon the pillows in an +old-fashioned tester bed recognised her, and smiled but could not speak. + +Joan went up, and stooping down spoke in her cheeriest tone: + +"Well, Dad, dear, this is unlucky, isn't it? I'm so thankful Major +Armitage took you in. Now don't try to speak. You'll be better +to-morrow, and you must just stop here till you're fit to be moved. I +shall look after you to-night. Try to go to sleep." + +Relief and comfort was expressed at once in Mr. Adair's troubled face. + +"Now, you know, you'll do everything that is right," he murmured, and +then he closed his eyes. + +[Illustration: JOAN AND BANTY CHATTED TOGETHER IN LIGHT-HEARTED FASHION +WHEN THEY WERE SITTING DOWN WATCHING FOR THE KETTLE TO BOIL.] + +Maria appeared, but Joan drew her out of the room, where they arranged +everything for the invalid's comfort. Joan said she would sit up in the +big easy chair by the fire all night. + +"I shall have a nap when I can, but I will keep the fire in and the +kettle going, and give him what he needs." + +She heard all the directions that the doctor had given and promised +to carry them out. The master of the house was of no account in her +eyes, nor did she think of him again until she was sitting up awake in +the silent hours of the night. Then she began to wonder about the life +that he led in this lonely house, and who was the lady of his choice, +whether she were but a sweet memory or a living reality. + +Mr. Adair slept a good deal, and by the time the dawn broke his +breathing was considerably easier. When Maria appeared, Joan smiled up +at her. + +"We have had a good night, and he is not worse, but better I should +say." + +Maria brought her a cup of tea, then persuaded her to go into an +adjoining bedroom and have a bath, so as to refresh herself. + +An hour later she was downstairs in the hall just in the act of going +out of the door, when Major Armitage appeared from the dining-room and +stopped her. + +"You are not going off without any breakfast? I could not allow you to +do that. I am glad to hear good accounts of your father." + +"Yes, I'm so thankful. I must get home to ease our old servant's mind. +I thought I might run up again to see the doctor when he comes, and to +ask him how Father can be moved." + +"I have already sent a message down to the rectory. I am not going to +let you go till you have had something to eat. Come in here." + +Joan could not resist his pleasant peremptoriness. She followed him +into the dining-room. It was a large comfortable room, with a broad bay +window overlooking the garden. The expanse of dazzling snow outside +gave a reflected light into the room. Joan was conscious as she looked +at the smart soldier-like neatness of the Major, that she herself was +tired and unrefreshed by the night's watch. But he was thinking as he +took her in with one swift glance that he had seldom seen a woman with +a sweeter, fresher countenance. + +Breakfast was laid on a small round table near the fire. The long +dining-table in the middle of the room was evidently not used. + +Major Armitage presided over the coffee and tea himself. He waited on +Joan with cheerful alacrity. There was nothing in his manner to prove +that he disliked women guests. Their talk was, of course, about the +invalid. + +"I dread my father getting bronchitis at the beginning of the winter. +He has had it before, but I am so immensely thankful and grateful to +you for finding him. How did you manage it?" + +"I heard one of my dogs barking outside. I'm afraid he took the rector +for an intruder. It is my dog you have to thank for telling me of your +father's whereabouts." + +"But you offered him shelter and hospitality." + +"Who would not? If I had been in a similar case, would you not have +taken me in and nursed me?" + +"I hope I should," said Joan with a smile; "which reminds me of an old +man in the village—do you know him? A superannuated postman, Dicky +Grubb. He called me in to take shelter from the rain, and when I +thanked him, he said: + +"'Why, that be all right. I do reckon I'd have asked the evil one +hisself in if I'd seen 'im. I do be just desperate for a talk wi' +somebody.'" + +"These country folk have a great belief in the personality of the evil +one," said Major Armitage with an amused smile. + +"I must rank myself amongst them," said Joan, a soft grave light coming +into her eyes at once. "If we believe our Bibles, we must, but the +comfort is to feel that the Power above him is greater." + +"Do you believe in a gracious providence overlooking our lives and +ordering all things for our eternal good?" questioned the Major +abruptly. + +"Yes, I do," said Joan simply. "I believe it with all my heart. I +always have liked that verse in Job. Do you know it?— + + "'For He performeth the thing that is appointed for me.' + +"It takes the sting out of so much if we can feel it is His hand +behind." + +"Life has a good deal of bitterness in it," said Major Armitage, "but I +think if I hadn't believed in that Hand, I should have blown my brains +out long ago. As one lives on, though, one's patience gets exhausted." + +Then he pulled himself together, as if he had said too much. "What a +beautiful little organ you have." + +"Yes, isn't it? I have been wondering if you would ever like to take +our services for us. We should enjoy it so much if you did." + +"Would you? I always think organists are tenacious of their position +and resent any amateurs touching their beloved instrument." + +"But I am much more of an amateur than you are," said Joan, smiling. +"And I have heard your playing once, and I long to hear it again." + +"Music is the comfort of my life," said Major Armitage. "I have only a +piano here, but I am thinking of building an organ. Meanwhile, I tell +you that I have very happy times in your little church." + +Then he began to talk over organ music with her. The personal note in +his conversation disappeared, and Joan was rather glad of it. He was +as yet too great a stranger for her to touch upon the deep things of +life with ease in her talk with him. She was always shy of mentioning +them herself; and he had surprised her by his words. Yet as they talked +there over their comfortable meal, Joan felt an increasing liking for +this man. He seemed so frank and straightforward that she could not +reconcile the account of him which Maria had given to her sister with +her actual experience now. + +When breakfast was over and she was about to depart again, Major +Armitage stopped her. + +"You have a mile and a quarter to walk to the rectory through the fresh +snow. If you want to see the doctor, he will most likely be here in an +hour's time. What is the good of rushing home and back again before his +visit? Stay with the rector till he comes, and write a note to your old +servant. I will send my groom over with it at once." + +Joan considered a moment and then agreed. He took her across the hall +to his smoking-room, and left her at the writing-table there. She +wrote her note, gave it to the groom, who was waiting in the hall for +it, and then with rapid steps went upstairs to her father. Maria was +superintending one of the housemaids, who was tidying up the room. + +"I'm glad you haven't gone, miss. The rector has been asking for you." + +Joan went up to the bedside. Her father was awake and feverishly +anxious to get up. + +"I have been told by this good woman, my dear, where I am. I could +hardly remember how I came here. I must go home, Joan. If I am ill, +I must be in my own house; and there is Sunday coming. To-morrow is +Saturday. If I cannot take the service, we must get someone else to do +it. There are a lot of things to arrange. I must—" + +"Now, Father, dear, I will see to everything. We are only waiting till +the doctor has been. You must not worry, and you must not talk." + +Joan was very firm. She sat down by the bed and began telling her +father of some funny experiences she had had the previous morning in +the village. His attention was diverted from himself; he smiled, then +became sleepy again, and had a good half-hour's nap before the doctor +arrived. Dr. Blount gave a good report of his patient. + +"I believe he has just staved off an attack of pneumonia. You must not +attempt to move him to-day. Send over your old servant; she and her +sister here will manage him nicely, and you can ease his mind best by +running his business." + +For practical common sense Dr. Blount had no equal. When Joan was once +convinced that her father was in no danger, and only required rest +and care for a few days, she went straight down and interviewed Major +Armitage again. + +She found him out in the garden directing a lad how to sweep the snow +off the paths. + +He anticipated her in what she was about to say. "I am not going to let +your father go to-day or to-morrow, whatever the doctor says." + +"It is most kind of you," Joan said; and then she told him what the +doctor wished. + +"If you do not mind Sophia coming up, she will be a great comfort to +Father; and I have really so many things to see to in the parish that I +shall be quite content with Sophia's reports once a day." + +"I'll do anything you like to suggest; but I hope you will feel free to +run up whenever you have time. I am going up to town to-morrow for the +night, but I'll come down to you myself on the way to the station, if I +may, to tell you how I leave him." + +Joan thanked him with a lightened heart. Then, looking round her, she +could not help exclaiming: + +"What a beautiful old home you have! Isn't it wonderful how grand and +majestic a heavy fall of snow makes its surroundings? We might be now +in the depths of a huge forest. Your trees and snow glades through them +are magnificent." + +Major Armitage turned with her to face his old, weather-beaten, +ivy-covered house. The wind had gone down, and there was that peculiar +silence and stillness that fallen snow always brings. + +"It is a waiting house," he said, somewhat dreamily. "It has always +borne that characteristic on its walls to me." + +Joan hardly knew what to say. He turned to her with a slow smile upon +his face. + +"Do you know any of its history, Miss Adair? For over a hundred years +it has been the abode of lonely souls. No children's voices or steps +have ever brightened its rooms. Three old bachelor brothers succeeded +each other, then a childless couple, then two single women, and each +heir was well over fifty before taking possession. My mother was the +first who broke the chain, but she died six months after it had been +bequeathed to her. And she told me that it had always been considered +an unlucky legacy." + +"Has that any foundation?" Joan asked with interest. + +"There is a saying that until it reverts to the old family to whom it +originally belonged, there will be no luck to its possessor." + +Joan was about to ask the name of that family, but such a stern shadow +came over the Major's face that she refrained, and he turned almost +abruptly away from her for a moment. Then, as she moved away from him, +the smile came back to his lips again. + +"My house and I wait," he said. + +Joan went home that morning with much food for thought, and though her +father figured foremost in her mind, there was another who figured in +it too. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +AN ENCOUNTER WITH WILMOT + +IN three days' time, the rector was moved home, and in a fortnight +he was going about much as usual; but the result of his sojourn with +Major Armitage was a distinct friendship with the lonely man. He often +dropped in to see the rector and have a chat with him; he exchanged +organ voluntaries with Joan, took the service himself one Sunday night, +and fascinated everyone there by the beautiful music he gave them after +the service was over. + +But though to Joan and her father he was always genial and pleasant, he +refused to extend his friendship to society in general. And whispers +were still circulated that he was queer, and had "a bee in his bonnet." +Joan contradicted these rumours with much warmth, but the gossips shook +their heads and retained their own opinions. + +A little incident that occurred made her realise that perhaps they had +some foundation for their circulation, and yet, understanding a little +better, as she did now, the working of an artistic nature, and withal +an intensely dreamy one, she felt more distressed than ever that gossip +should ferret out the secrets of an upright, honourable gentleman. + +One afternoon, after a visit to the rector, Major Armitage promised +to send Joan a Christmas carol of his own composition. She had been +planning some carol practices for Christmas, and he had told her of +some with which she had never become acquainted. And then he had added: + +"With an author's egotism, I am wondering if you would like to have a +look at a carol which was sung in Ely Cathedral one year. The organist +was a great friend of mine, and got me to compose the music for some +old words he had found in an antiquated history of Cambridgeshire." + +Joan accepted his offer with delight, and the roll of music came. As +she was unrolling it, a rough sheet of manuscript tumbled out of it. +It had evidently slipped in by mistake. She glanced at the words, and +then with caught breath and tearful eyes she read them through again, +and then an overwhelming feeling of shame took possession of her for +reading them at all. + + "Sweet of my heart, we are quite alone, + Alone in the twilight grey; + Eyes are not needed, only our souls + Touch in an exquisite way. + + "Do I not see thee? I close my eyes, + I need not the light of day; + My lady sits here by the flickering fire— + I know she has come to stay. + + "How can I paint the sweet face that is mine, + The face so purely serene; + The eyes that are softly searching my soul + With their glance so bright and keen; + + "The proud little head, with its poise half gay, + Yet so bewitchingly shy; + The lips that quiver, that open to speak, + Then close with a pensive sigh? + + "Heart of my heart, and queen of my love, + I gaze on thee, full of bliss, + The ache of a lonely hearth is worth while + To give a moment like this." + + R. A. + +It was the key to the Major's silent hour by the fireside of the room +which was full of his music and poetry; the room which was closed +against outsiders and strangers, but which was a hallowed spot to his +soul. + +Joan comprehended in a flash as she read, and for some minutes she +stood wrapped in thought with the paper in her hand. Then she wondered +what she had better do. She dreaded letting Major Armitage know that +she had seen and read it. She felt she could not tell him; she could +not write to him. Finally she rolled up the little song and sent it +back to him by post, writing across the wrapper: + + "Found inside the carol." + +By neither word nor sign did the Major ever let her know that he had +received it. + +Mrs. Adair and Cecil still stayed away. They wrote occasionally, +and one morning the rector looked up from his wife's letter with +disappointment in his face. + +"I was hoping they would come home for Christmas, Joan, but your mother +says they are going to spend it in Cheshire with a cousin of hers. We +shall not see much of them, I am afraid. Your mother wants to go abroad +again in January." + +"I think," said Joan gravely, "that you and I, Dad, dear, had better +make up our minds to run this parish without them. When they come home, +we will welcome them gladly, but we won't keep on expecting them; their +visits will be always short, I know." + +"But why?" Mr. Adair demanded rather impatiently. "Why should they not +stay in their own comfortable home when they are in England? I can +imagine Cecil's delicacy necessitating a warmer climate, but Edinburgh +and Cheshire are colder climates than ours? It is not right; your +mother ought to be here." + +Joan was silent. She knew her father had never grasped and would never +grasp the fact that Mrs. Adair had a real distaste for her clerical +home. After a few minutes she said gently: + +"Cecil can have a good many more luxuries away than she can at home, +and at less expense." + +"Yes, yes. I know that. But these visits seem to cost a good deal. +I must send your mother another cheque this morning, and a bill has +come in from some London shop. I suppose it is for clothes; you will +understand the items, but it is for a big amount, seventeen pounds!" + +Joan took the bill, a dressmaker's, and then she said: + +"I think I should forward this to mother. She settles for these." + +But she doubted in her heart as she said so whether Mrs. Adair would +do so. She never could cut down her private expenses to her private +income, and her husband had to pay for a good deal. + +It was one of those days when clouds seemed heavy overhead. Some +quarrel amongst the bell-ringers had to be inquired into and set +straight; then Jenny was sent for from home to attend to her mother, +who had scalded her leg badly, and Joan had to get another village girl +to take her place. + +Miss Borfield called, and poured out a grievance which she had been +nursing in private for some considerable time. The last rector had +always consulted her over various village matters. She was being shown +now that her services were not valued or needed. She had not been asked +to tea at the rectory for over two months; Joan never came to see her, +and so on. + +Joan listened, sympathised, apologised, explained, and promised that +things would be different for the future. At half-past three in the +afternoon she had found herself feeling so irritable and impatient with +everybody, indoors and out, that she ran up to her room, flung on her +hat and coat, and started out to walk off her bad feelings. + +The air and solitude were a certain cure with Joan for depression, for +she held communion then with One Who was able to rest and calm the +turbulent waters. + +She walked to her favourite pine wood. It was a cold but bright +afternoon. The words that she had quoted to Major Armitage a short time +ago came into her mind: + + "For He performeth the thing that is appointed for me." + +And as she thought upon it, peace came into her soul. Amongst the +silent pines, looking down upon a vista of valley and clustering +cottages round the old grey church, she lifted her heart heavenwards. + +"Just the cutting and shaping and friction that I need," she said to +herself, "as Major Armitage said, 'I believe in the Hand behind.'" + +Her thoughts turned to him as she retraced her steps homeward, and then +suddenly she met Wilmot Gascoigne. He had been supplying her with books +of late, but though he had called several times upon her father, Joan +happened to have missed him. + +"What a walker you are!" he said, as he shook hands with her. "I always +find you out, but have never had the luck to meet you before. Have you +been on one of your usual errands of mercy?" + +"No," said Joan, smiling. "I have simply and solely walked out to +please myself; in fact, I have been walking off bad temper." + +"I wish I could do that. But I don't believe in your black words. +You are always the personification of radiant cheerfulness. I am, or +have been, in the devil of a temper all day, when every living human +creature is an annoyance to me. I am going to chuck up the Gascoigne +Chronicles for a time. They have got on my nerves. I am going up to +town for a few weeks. I want to have a look at some books in the +British Museum. Do you know what I am thinking of doing?" + +"No—what?" + +"Taking a tour in America, and lecturing on the Ancient Homes of +Britain. Nothing takes over there like the histories and legends of the +aristocracy. And I want a wider sphere and a change of work." + +"I thought you were always content and happy amongst your books." + +"Yes," he said, with a bitter smile, "that is what my good relatives +think; they are continually flinging it in my teeth. Books are my food, +my meat and drink, and my life; but I have other aims in life, and just +now I need money. My American tour will bring me in a golden harvest." + +"I should like to hear you lecture," said Joan, thoughtfully. "Why +won't you give us a village lecture one day? Take some subject that +will suit our villagers. One of the greatest pleasures in life must be +to impart the knowledge which we have." + +"I know that is your creed. You inspire me to try. Now what possible +subject could interest the intellects of your villagers?" + +"It requires consideration," said Joan. + +"Will you think it out, and I will do the same, and I'll drop in on +Saturday afternoon to compare notes. I know the rector is always in +then; he told me so." + +"Very well. I'm sure my father will be pleased at the idea. We were +wishing we could give the men some kind of entertainment." + +"I am not a village entertainer," said Wilmot, with a laugh, "and it is +the most difficult thing in the world to talk down to such an audience. +But I'll have a try at it to please you. How have you got on with +Miller's 'Indian Philosophy'?" + +"I am afraid I have had little time for reading lately," said Joan. + +"It's an awful waste of a cultivated intellect to be placed where you +are," said Wilmot, with earnestness. "Why don't you strike?" + +"No," said Joan, with a shake of her head. "My circumstances +necessitate it. I am trying to be content." + +"Any fool could run a country parish!" said Wilmot hotly. + +"Thank you, but I disagree. My father is no fool, and he cannot do it +single-handed and alone." + +"There's a paper I want you to read in the 'National Review,'" Wilmot +went on. "I want a woman's view on it. I left it at the rectory just +now. Will you make time to read it?" + +"Yes, I will try. I shall enjoy it, I expect. Magazine articles do not +want the leisure that philosophical treatises do." + +He turned to another subject which was then filling his mind, the +dawning of the Renaissance Period, and he talked fast and furiously +over it. When he lost himself in his subject, he was intensely +brilliant and interesting. Joan listened entranced, and when they +reached the rectory gates, she heaved a sigh of regret. + +"Oh," she said impulsively, "I could listen to you all night; you have +taken me right out of myself and my surroundings!" + +"It is a treat to meet with a kindred soul," said Wilmot, +enthusiastically. "Look here, Miss Adair; we must see more of each +other. I assure you I haven't a single person in this neighbourhood +with whom I can exchange a few ideas." + +"Do you know Major Armitage?" + +"No. He's a musical genius, I hear, and a crank. I should say he never +opens a book." + +"I believe he has a very good library." + +"Has he? If I thought that, I would look him up. Well, then, Saturday +you will see me again. Au revoir!" + +Joan turned indoors. She liked Wilmot Gascoigne, and she did not like +him. Her intellect appreciated his; her spirit clashed with his, and +her instinct told her that his influence was not wholly uplifting. + +"I like and admire him as a teacher," she said to herself, "but I would +not have him as a friend." + +Saturday came, and he turned up to tea full of the village lecture he +proposed to give. + +Joan suggested a lecture on the historical events that had happened +in the county, with special reference to those of local interest. Mr. +Adair thought a talk about drink and politics would suit the labouring +men. Wilmot himself proposed a lecture on political economy. They +finally settled that he should give a lecture on "Country versus Town +Life," and he and Joan had a very long and animated discussion upon +that theme. + +She broke away from him at last. "You must excuse me. Do stay and talk +to my father. This is his free evening. But I have a Sunday school +lesson to prepare and some mark books to make up, and it is half-past +ten." + +Wilmot did not stay. He liked the rector, but it was his daughter he +came to see. + +And for the next ten days before the lecture came off, he was +continually at the rectory. + +Banty arrived one afternoon, and found Joan sweeping the garden paths. + +"What are you doing?" she asked. + +"I'm getting some leaves together to go on our bonfire. I'm tired of +the untidiness of the garden, so I'm making a clearance of a lot of +rubbish. Come into the orchard and see it burn." + +"I always like you so much better out of doors," Banty remarked; +"you're so much more like an ordinary human being then." + +Joan laughed. "What am I indoors?" + +"A very superior rector's daughter." + +"Oh, I don't think I deserve that. I assure you don't feel so." + +"What have you been doing to Motty? He has left the seclusion of the +library, and is for ever coming down here. He told Father to-day that +he must have a holiday; and we hear he is going to give a village +lecture. I warn you, they won't understand one word of it. Have you +bewitched him?" + +Joan was busy stacking up her bonfire. She did not answer for a moment; +then she said lightly: + +"Father and your cousin like a smoke and chat together. I don't think +you give Mr. Wilmot much of your company as a rule." + +"I should think not. Can't stand his stilted talk. But why is he so +keen on coming here to talk to you? That's what I want to know!" + +"I suppose we have tastes in common," said Joan, a little +indifferently. "I am very fond of books, and so is he." + +Banty looked at her in silence; then she said abruptly: "I believe +everybody likes to talk to you; I do." + +"Now that is nice of you," said Joan, turning a smiling face towards +her. "I thought you were going to be disagreeable a few minutes ago." + +"I meant to be. Motty provoked me by singing your praises and saying +that you were wasted upon us. 'A village of clodhoppers,' he called us; +and I know he meant to include the Hall in that disparaging epithet. +We are not clever—I know we aren't—but we are happy and contented with +our country life, and Motty spends his time in abusing it and sneering +at all our neighbours. He tells me he is going to speak about country +and town life to the villagers. I suppose you know what he will do? He +will make London a paradise, and set every young man by the ears to go +there. He'll stir up discontent and restlessness, and make them all +hate their country lives. You see if you don't bring a hornet's nest +into our village schoolroom when he gets up on his hind legs to speak." + +Joan had never heard Banty speak at such length before. She looked +dismayed at the picture which was painted. + +"I don't think he will do that. I will talk to him about it." + +"I suppose you are infatuated with him," said Banty, a little rudely, +"just as my cousins are in town. Motty is full of himself. I wish he +didn't live with us. He always makes us uncomfortable by his airs of +superiority. Now, Derrick Colleton is quite different. It is a pleasure +to have him in the house." + +"Derrick is a dear," assented Joan, warmly. + +"What I like about you is your variety," pursued Banty, watching Joan +feeding the bonfire with critical eyes. "You may be a bookworm at +heart, but you don't mind painting a jingle, or mending a gate, or +making a bonfire—versatility is the word I want!" + +"It's just necessity," laughed Joan; "but I enjoy it all, and any fire +in the open exhilarates me—doesn't it you? I made a fire up in the pine +woods the other afternoon, and sat by it, and had an hour's reading. It +was delicious!" + +"I'll come up and join you one day, if I may. I want to talk to you, +only, when hunting is on, I haven't much time." + +"All right," said Joan, feeling rather sorry that she had given her +quiet retreat away. "But will you join me in reading or do you want to +talk?" + +"To talk," said Banty, frankly and unfeelingly. "I can't talk indoors—I +never could. Out of doors I feel at ease. Let us meet in the pine woods +to-morrow. I can't hunt till next Monday. I've knocked up two hunters +this week, and father has got riled and says I must give them a rest." + +"To-morrow afternoon?" said Joan, dubiously. "Well, I will try." + +"Let us boil a kettle and have tea out there," suggested Banty, with +alacrity. + +Joan agreed, for she wanted to win the confidence of Banty, and knew it +would not do to damp her friendliness. + +"Then I think I'll go now," said Banty. "You'll get sick of me if I +give you too much of my company." + +Joan laughed again as she shook hands with her. "You have a very humble +opinion of your own powers of attractiveness." + +"I'm not attractive to women," said Banty, bluntly; "never can +understand them. I always vote them a bore, and they vote me one. +Good-bye." + +Joan looked after her. She swung away with a boyish stride, and was +soon out of sight. + +"Oh, dear! What waste of time it will be. Why should she fix upon me to +beguile her dull hours? And what can she have to say to me?" + +Joan poked away at the bonfire rather fiercely. Banty was quite right +in her estimate of herself. She was not an attractive personality to +any of her own sex, for she never troubled to make herself pleasant +to them, and Joan did not look forward with any pleasure to the +appointment made. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +JOAN'S GODMOTHER + +JOAN nearly forgot to meet Banty as arranged, for a letter in the +morning absorbed her thoughts. It was from her godmother, Lady Alicia, +saying she was coming down into their neighbourhood for a week's visit +to some old friends, and would much like to spend a few days at the +rectory and see her goddaughter. Lady Alicia had been to Joan from the +time she was a tiny child the embodiment of all that was enchanting and +delightful. Joan had almost worshipped her, though the times in which +she had seen her were very few and far between. They had corresponded +for many years. Lady Alicia had refused to lose touch with her even +after her confirmation, and Joan felt that she could never express her +gratitude sufficiently for having been enabled to go to Girton by her +godmother's generous help. + +Never before had Joan entertained Lady Alicia in her mother's absence, +and it was five years since her godmother had come to see them. When +Mr. Adair was told, he became rather flustered. + +"My dear Joan, your mother ought to be here. You must tell her. Perhaps +it will bring her back. Lady Alicia is one of your mother's greatest +friends. I should not like to have her here when your mother is away. I +don't think she would care about it either." + +"She has seen Mother in Edinburgh, Father. She tells me so, and Mother +knows she is coming, for she told her she would like to do it. She is +coming to see me, for she is my godmother, remember. I am delighted." + +"She is a very pleasant woman," said Mr. Adair; "but I hope she is not +going to persuade you to leave your work here and take up teaching. I +know she is a clever woman herself, and learning of any sort is her +hobby." + +"I am not going to leave you, Dad," said Joan gently. + +Then she went out to tell Sophia, and that worthy was as pleased as +Joan. + +"We shall be very pleased to see her ladyship, of course, and I'll have +the best spare bedroom aired at once; and we must just plan out some +tasty little dinners. How many days do you say, Miss Joan? A few? Then +we'll say four dinners at the most, and I'll think them out and let you +know what we shall be wanting. She's a real nice lady, is her ladyship, +and I'm glad to think you'll be here alone, for the last time she were +with us 'twas your holidays, and you were sent out of doors whiles the +mistress talked and talked and talked! Oh, how she talked! And when her +ladyship went, she says to me, whiles I were strapping her box: + +"'Sophia, my little goddaughter will grow up a fine woman. I'm sorry to +have seen so little of her.' + +"And a fine young woman you be, Miss Joan, and I'm sure her ladyship +will think so when she looks at you. I often think in the present time +that we shan't have their lordships and ladyships with us much longer. +So we must make the most of them when we can get them. Now the House +of Lords is humbled and made nought of, and these dreadful agitating +strikers and social ruffians are for destroying their houses and lands, +well, the poor things will be driven out of the country; and then it's +the ones who've driven them will wish them back again!" + +"Oh, Sophia!" said Joan, putting her hands to her ears. "For mercy's +sake stop. Thank goodness Lady Alicia has no houses or land to be taken +from her!" + +She left the kitchen, wrote to her godmother, and went about her daily +duties as if in a dream. + +It was not till late in the afternoon that she remembered Banty; and +it was not in the best of humours that she got her tea basket and +started out for the pine woods. But a walk across the heath restored +her equanimity. It was a soft, mild day, with a wild-looking sky; the +sun shone out between masses of grey, scudding clouds; the west wind +soughed in the pines. The distances were blue and clear, here and there +on far-away hills were wonderful effects of sunshine and shadow. + +Joan found Banty first at their trysting place, and she was building a +fire in a very business-like manner. For a little while they chatted +together in a light-hearted fashion, then, when they were sitting down +watching for the kettle to boil, Banty began: + +"I want to talk to you. You're not an old frump, and I'm sure you +have plenty of common sense. Do you think girls nowadays are better +unmarried?" + +Joan had hoped for some better subject for conversation than this; but +she checked her momentary feeling of impatience and answered: + +"Certainly not. If they meet the right man, it is in every respect good +to marry." + +"Yes; but how does any girl know that the man who proposes to her is +the right man?" + +"I think her heart will tell her. Are you wanting to be married?" + +"Me? Rather not! But Mother wants me to think about it. She told me +this morning that if anything happened to Father, I should lose my home +and hunting. I could do without a home, but to give up hunting! Why, I +think I would die! You see Father's heir is a distant cousin, a married +man with a family, and Mother and I would have to promptly clear out. +But, of course, Father may outlive us—at least he may live many years. +I've always felt I'm not made for a wife. I have no domesticities about +me, and men like and expect that, don't they?" + +"You will not always be able to hunt," said Joan slowly. "What will you +do when you get rheumaticky and old?" + +"I mean to live and die in the hunting-field," said Banty firmly. + +"It means a very sudden death, then. Do you wish for that?" + +Banty stared at Joan with big eyes. + +"Why, no; it would be terrible, awful!" She shuddered. "Don't let +us talk about death; it seems so gruesome. It is such an appalling +upheaval, isn't it, of our very pleasant matter-of-fact lives." + +"You 'do' think sometimes." Joan said this almost to herself. + +Banty laughed a little awkwardly, then shied some fir cones into the +fire. + +"I was wondering the other day," she said, "whether I had better say +'yes' to a man who is pestering me with his attentions. And I thought I +would ask you. For I assure you, I can't make up my mind. Mother wants +me to have him, because he has lots of tin, and I'd have a jolly good +time if I married him. But I'm not so keen on money as on good company, +and he's the dullest man in the whole field—rides well, but nothing +else. If I got bored after I had married him, what should I do?" + +"If you don't love him, don't marry him," said Joan quickly. + +"Well then, supposing I don't get another offer, and Mother's gloomy +forecast comes true?" + +"But, Miss Gascoigne, there really are other enjoyments in life besides +hunting." + +"There isn't one to me." + +"What do you do in the summer?" + +"I have a vile time." + +Joan looked at the girl softly and seriously, then she put out her hand +and laid it on her arm. + +"Wake up!" she said. "You're half asleep. Somewhere inside you, you +have a spirit, a soul. There are tremendous possibilities for that soul +of yours, and an awfully happy life for you if you can only get it to +stir and prove that it is alive. Happiness all the year round, and not +only in the winter!" + +Banty stared at her again, but Joan did not say another word. She +occupied herself in making two very good cups of tea, and brought the +conversation into lighter channels. Banty was led to talk of otters +and of their habits, and then she gave Joan a lot of interesting +information about the different birds in their locality. She did not +mention the subject of marriage again; but when they at last rose to go +their different ways, she said with emphasis: + +"I'm not quite the sleepy fool you take me to be." + +Joan walked home wondering if she had wasted the hour in the woods or +not. She had a very small opinion of her own powers in influencing +anyone for good, which was rather strange, as she had a wild enthusiasm +for imparting all other knowledge to those who were without it. Outside +her own gate, she stood gazing at the distant hills; the sun was +sending long, crimson streaks across the sky as he sank behind the +pines. She lifted up her face to inhale the soft west breeze which +seemed to be bringing her the aromatic scent of the heather and pines. + +"Oh," she murmured to herself, "it's good to be alive in this beautiful +world—and I've a delicious bit in front of me. How I shall love to have +Lady Alicia all to myself!" + + +The following evening, Wilmot Gascoigne gave his village lecture. Lady +Gascoigne insisted upon coming to it herself, and persuaded Sir Joseph +to accompany her. Banty refused to be present. The village schoolroom +was crowded. Joan was rather nervous when Wilmot opened his lecture by +a comparison between a town and country boy at fourteen. He gave an +imaginary conversation between them which tickled and delighted his +audience, but which showed the country boy at a great disadvantage. +Then, as he talked on, he forgot his class of audience, and his talk +became absolutely unintelligible. He drifted into political economy, +he quoted various authors with whom, of course, nobody was acquainted; +he grew more and more rapid and enthusiastic in his talk, and finally +ended his lecture by declaring that the country bred flourishing +bodies, but that town produced, and could only produce, brains. + +"Bosh!" exclaimed the squire in audible tones. + +Joan felt a great inclination to laugh. Her father, who was taking the +chair, got up in his genial and good-natured way and tried to stand up +for his parishioners. + +"I think the lecturer is hard upon the countryfolk," he said smiling. +"I am not very learned myself, but I do remember several authors and +poets who have done all their best work in the country, and some of +them were country bred." + +"The Brontës!" prompted Joan. + +The rector did not hear her. The gaping audience had hardly taken in +any of the lecture. They clapped when their rector proposed the vote of +thanks to the lecturer, and went to their homes declaring that it was +the "finest performance" they had ever heard, and Mr. Wilmot was just a +"speakin' dictionary." + +Wilmot did not seem so pleased with himself as Joan expected him to be. +He turned into the rectory to have some supper. + +"Well," he said a little defiantly to Joan, "my role is not that of a +village lecturer, is it?" + +"No," said Joan, laughing. "I don't think it is; but I am sure you gave +a great deal of pleasure. One old woman said to me coming out: 'Ay, +me dear, he ought to be a parson, sure enough! That's the style of +praychin for we—a reg'lar clap-up style with plenty of noise with it!'" + +Wilmot tried to smile. + +"Oh," he groaned, "it was like talking to rows of stolid cows. There +wasn't one spark of life amongst them. Their eyes were as thick and +vacant as a fish's! How can you peg away at them, rector?" + +Mr. Adair looked at Wilmot rather gravely. + +"'Line upon line—here a little—there a little,' They are not so stupid +as they look." + +"You had some interested listeners," said Joan. "Major Armitage was at +the back. He slipped in late and went away early." + +"He's a crank," said Wilmot shortly. "I'm much more interested in his +house than himself. It has a curious record." + +"Yes; I know about it," said Joan. "To whom did it originally belong?" + +"To the Rollestons. They sold the property about a hundred years ago, +and the Armitages bought it. Don't let us talk about that fellow. Do +you ever go up to town, Miss Adair?" + +"No, never. We are expecting a visitor, an old friend of my mother's, +so my time will be taken up." + +"Does that mean you will have no time for me? I am going to get you to +read up that book on the Renaissance. I shall expect to hear how you +like it when I come back from town." + +"How long will you be away? You seem to have no idea of the life I +lead. I cannot have infinite leisure for reading; I wish I could." + +"I shall be away about ten days or a fortnight. Don't let your mind +rust. We are told to use our talents. Your most important duty is to +cultivate the intellect that has been given you." + +Joan smiled at these platitudes, but the earnestness of Wilmot's tones +made her reply: + +"The difficulty with me is to refrain from reading. It is not a duty, +but a real pleasure." + +She was relieved that Wilmot was going up to town. She found his +constant visits rather a detriment to her parish work. + + +The next day Lady Alicia arrived. Joan met her at the station with the +one shabby fly that Old Bellerton possessed. + +Lady Alicia was of medium height and rather slender. She was always +extremely well dressed in a quiet style of her own. Her white hair and +delicately-cut features, with a pair of brilliant, dark eyes, gave her +a remarkable and attractive look. + +"Why, Joan, dear, I don't think I should have known you. You are +looking bonny," was the greeting she gave her goddaughter. + +"Yes; I am always in rude health," said Joan laughing. Then, as she +led her to the fly, she added: "I still feel as I always used to feel, +that you are a kind of fairy godmother, quite different from the usual +people I am accustomed to mix with." + +"I dare say you will find me stepping down from that pedestal before +long," said Lady Alicia smiling. + +Then they talked about Mrs. Adair and Cecil, and they arrived at the +rectory just after four. + +Mr. Adair came out into the porch to meet them. Lady Alicia delighted +him by expressing herself charmed with the old rectory. Joan took her +up to the spare room, which looked dainty and bright with its blazing +fire, and fresh flowers on the dressing-table. + +"Ah," said Lady Alicia, as she sat down in the easy chair by the fire; +"your father has his right setting at last, Joan. I always told him a +country rectory would be his fate one day. I'm sure he is much happier +in the country; is he not?" + +"Yes, he certainly is. He loves this place, and is only disappointed +that Mother finds it too cold to stay here." + +"She must stay here in the summer, then. I told her so. You will +have her back in May, I hope, Joan. I want to ask you ever so many +questions, but they will keep. What a dear, quaint, little house you +have! I love its dark oak and low rooms. There is such a sense of peace +and quiet in it!" + +"Do you feel it so?" Joan asked eagerly with a flush on her cheeks. "It +impressed me like that the first time I saw it. In the rush and hurry +of every day, I lose that sense, except when I have been out and come +in; then it always strikes me as a haven. And rectories ought to have +restful, peaceful atmospheres, ought they not? So many who have lived +and died in them have been in close touch with heaven." + +"Yes," assented Lady Alicia gravely; but her eyes softened as they +rested on Joan's fair, happy face. + +Joan left her to see that tea was ready, and old Sophia, beaming in her +best black dress, slipped upstairs to "wait on" her ladyship. + +Lady Alicia shook her by the hand. + +"Well, Sophia, your young lady is turning into a beauty. She was a +gawky schoolgirl when I saw her last." + +"Ah, my lady, she's the best of the bunch; nothing comes irksome to +her. And she shoulders her burdens with a joke and a laugh. The master +would be lost without her. He's getting to lean upon her. I always +do say, my lady, that women be the props of the nation. A man has no +common sense to guide him without her." + +"I think we can stand alone better than they can," said Lady Alicia +smiling. + +She and Sophia understood each other thoroughly, and Sophia now bent +forward with an anxious look in her old eyes. + +"Ah, my lady, could you not get the mistress to be more here now? She's +wanted. The master fair pines for the sight of her." + +Lady Alicia shook her head. + +"No, Sophia. How often have you asked me that before! But I sometimes +think it is a little kink in her brain. She will not settle down in her +own home. And don't you see that now, when she has a daughter who so +well fills her place, she will be less likely than ever to come back +and work in her husband's parish?" + +"If she were only to bide in the house along with the master, 'twould +ease his dear mind. She were never cut out for parish visiting." + +"That she was not!" said Lady Alicia with her pleasant laugh. "You are +a good creature, Sophia. I see you are determined to unpack me; but, I +assure you, since I have travelled about the world as a lone woman, I +am quite accustomed to maid myself. I'm in love with your old house. I +feel as if I were transplanted back a hundred years." + +She came into the drawing-room a little time later, and the rector and +Joan and she had a very cosy tea and chat together. Then the rector +went off to his study, and Joan and Lady Alicia sat on in the firelight +talking of many things. Joan described the neighbours, the villagers, +and the life surrounding the rectory. She told Lady Alicia of the offer +which had been made to her and which she had refused. + +"You think I was right? I hope you don't think I ought to have gone. I +do not feel that my college education has been wasted, for I am always +hoping that the time may come when I shall be able to profit by it. In +any case, knowledge is never waste, is it?" + +"Not unless you bury it in a napkin," said Lady Alicia. "My dear Joan, +I think you could not have acted otherwise, but I gave your mother a +good scolding when I saw her in Edinburgh. She is ruining Cecil. That +girl is no more delicate than I am; it is just a case of nerves and +fancies." + +"She will never be different," said Joan. + +"I don't know," Lady Alicia rejoined, looking thoughtfully into +the coal fire in front of her. "I felt that I should like to take +possession of her and see if I could not wake her into life. She has +brains." + +"Yes," said Joan; "I often wish she would use the brains she has. But I +don't think sisters can ever help one another. Cecil laughs at me and +calls me old-fashioned." + +"Poor little Joan!" + +Joan was sitting on a low chair, and Lady Alicia for a moment laid her +hand caressingly on her head. + +Then Joan turned a flushed face and tearful eyes towards her. + +"Oh, Lady Alicia, I do want to work; I do want to do something with my +life. There is so much that we women can do nowadays. This is such a +small sphere for an able-bodied woman! I feel sometimes as if anyone +could potter in and out of the cottages and talk to the old women. It +sounds conceited if I say it isn't worth my while, but I really do fear +lest this easy, monotonous country life should paralyse my powers. Do +comfort and help me, if you can. Sometimes I feel as if I can never go +on." + +"And I have helped you to test the power of your wings. I wonder if it +was wise." + +Lady Alicia looked affectionately at her as she spoke. + +"I can never thank you enough. You lifted me into another atmosphere +altogether." + +"Yes, I am not going to regret sending you to Girton. But, Joan dear, +you and I believe in the ordering of our lives by One Who never makes +mistakes. Why fret over this bit of your life, even if it seems to you +somewhat inactive? It fits in all right with the plan. If we don't have +the key to it, it does not signify. There may be some soul here whom +God has purposed shall be helped by you. I know a good woman who was +sent out all the way to India to help a gay young bride. Of course, +she did not know the reason of it at the time—she hated Anglo-Indian +society, and she was placed in the midst of it for four months—but she +understood afterwards, and was so thankful that she had not yielded to +her inclinations to stay at home with congenial friends. There may be +some troubles which are hard to bear, but I never think the plain force +of circumstances, however uncongenial, ought to fret us in the least. +Instead of spending our time in useless repining, let us look about and +discover the bit of work which we are meant to do. The best tools are +used for the simplest work. If you have an aptitude for teaching and +moulding and influencing, there is somebody in this part of the world +who is waiting for you to begin on them." + +"That is delightful to think of," said Joan slowly. "Somehow or other I +have felt it must be to shape my own character and make me patient in +the day of small things, and though I have prayed to be made willing, +yet it has been a constant struggle to be so. I am ashamed of myself +as I think of this sweet home. I love the country, too, and if I could +feel sure that I was not missing better opportunities, I would settle +down contentedly here. You have done me such a lot of good." + +"Settle down," said Lady Alicia. "It may seem a small life to you, but +'Better is an handful with quietness, than both the hands full with +travail and vexation of spirit.' Do you remember that wise saying of +Solomon's? You do not know from what you may be saved. I know you are +ambitious, and feel that you have powers that are not being used at +present. A public life for a woman very often brings great strain. You +have a 'handful with quietness' here. It is God's will for you; glorify +Him in it." + +And then there was silence between them. Both were occupied with their +own thoughts. + +For the rest of that evening Lady Alicia touched on more general +topics. She was a good talker, and had the gift of suiting her +conversation to her company. Mr. Adair always enjoyed a talk with her, +and, when dinner was over, he did not retire to his study, as was his +usual custom, but came into the drawing-room, where he and Lady Alicia +had a long and interesting discussion on Church methods. + +Joan listened, and enjoyed it; and whilst she listened, she pondered +over Lady Alicia's words. + +"Settle down." Yes, she determined she would, and Wilmot Gascoigne +should not make her dissatisfied with her sphere. There was no +stagnation where there was life—and if village life was to be her +opportunity for work, she must do it with a glad heart. + + + +CHAPTER X + +OFF TO THE RIVIERA + +LADY ALICIA threw herself heart and soul, for the time being, into +the village circle in which she found herself. She walked out with +Joan, and visited the old and sick; she took a Sunday school class of +girls, she attended the choir practices, covered library books, checked +club accounts, and was as keen as Joan herself over the welfare of +the parishioners. One evening after Joan had been practising Major +Armitage's carol, they began to talk about him. + +"He must be a real musician," said Lady Alicia. "I should like to hear +him play. I know his brother in Yorkshire, and have often heard about +him." + +"He has been in London for the last fortnight," said Joan. "He often +comes round for a chat with Father when he is at home, but I have never +had the courage to ask him to play. He is a very reserved man in many +ways, and I always think he has a history." + +She then told Lady Alicia of the gossip about the place and of what +Maria had confided to her sister. + +"Poor, lonely man!" said Lady Alicia softly. + +"For what and whom is he waiting?" Joan asked. "I have never forgotten +the quiet, determined way in which he said to me: 'My house and I +wait.' Somehow I cannot believe that his unseen companion is simply an +ideal of his imagination." + +"No," said Lady Alicia very quietly. "I think I can tell you that that +is not so." + +"You know his story?" + +"I do. Would you like to hear it?" + +A faint flush rose in Joan's cheeks. + +"I can't help feeling an interest in him. But I do not want to be +curious. He told me the unlucky history of his house, but no more." + +"I do not think there would be any harm in your knowing what I +know. I happen to be acquainted with the girl. She was a Miss Irene +Waldborough. They met at the house of a friend of mine before he went +to the war in South Africa. She was only about nineteen then. They were +not engaged; I suppose there was mutual attraction between them. He was +foolish, I think, not to speak. In any case, she thought he did not +care for her, and when her mother, who was of French extraction, and +believed in arranging things for her daughter, pressed a certain young +and rich American upon her, Irene yielded and became engaged to him. + +"I saw her when the news of Major Armitage's wounds reached home. +Everybody thought he would be blind for life. I knew then that he +still held her love. She was in great distress of mind; and when he +eventually returned home, she wanted to go and see him. Her mother +prevented this and urged Frank Denbury the American to marry sooner +than was proposed. The marriage was hurried on, and was about to take +place, when Major Armitage and Irene met. He had sent in his papers and +was staying with his brother. He had not even heard of the engagement. + +"I don't know how it was done, as you may be very certain Major +Armitage would never have spoken. But young people have instincts. +She came to her mother and refused to marry. Mrs. Waldborough was +furious. There was a great disturbance, and I suppose in the end her +will got the better of her daughter's, for the marriage took place. It +was one of those things that one cannot understand. Three days after +the wedding, the bridegroom was summoned back by cable to America. He +could not take her with him, and he has never been heard of since. +About two years ago there was a report of his death, but though all the +best detectives were set to work, and no amount of money was spared in +trying to trace evidence of his movements, the inquiry did not prove +satisfactory. Irene was married five years ago, and seems now neither +maid nor wife." + +"And did she meet the Major again? Does she know he has recovered his +sight?" + +"Yes. You see she lives only five miles from his brother in Yorkshire. +I saw her about a month ago. She told me all this herself, and told me, +too, that she is determined to wait seven years if necessary, but that +she can bring nobody else into her life until she has more definite +proof of her husband's death." + +"If I were Major Armitage," said Joan slowly, "I should go out and find +proofs." + +"That was the first thing he tried to do. He went out two years ago, +directly there was this indefinite report; but he could find nothing +beyond the facts already known, that one night Frank Denbury had ridden +away from a certain small town with two friends. These both swore that +he parted with them at a certain point and went in another direction +towards a village which he never reached." + +"And so Major Armitage is waiting for the seven years to pass," Joan +said meditatively. "What a romantic story! Tell me what she is like, +Lady Alicia." + +"Irene is small and slight and dark, rather like your Cecil, but with a +great deal of sweet dignity about her and a certain dainty shyness that +makes it difficult to believe that she is a married woman." + +"And he comforts himself in his solitude by imagining that she is with +him," said Joan almost under her breath. "I do pity him more than ever, +but he seems very sure of her. He has got his house ready for her." + +"Everyone firmly believes the husband is dead," said Lady Alicia. "It +is the doubt in her own mind that makes her wait for him. It is a very +unfortunate story, and I think you had better keep it to yourself." + +"I will," said Joan. "Is she fond of music?" + +"She plays the violin most beautifully. It is that which drew them +together." + +Joan said no more, but Major Armitage and the girl he loved, and for +whom he was waiting, were constantly in her thoughts. + + +The day before Lady Alicia left, Banty arrived to see Joan. At first +she rather seemed to resent Lady Alicia's presence in the room, but +before very long, her brusque manner left her, and she began confiding +eagerly in the gentle lady before her. + +"It's so beastly dull in frosty weather," she said. "I'm quite glad to +come down here, and Joan is always cheerful and good tempered. The very +sight of her does me good." + +Joan had been called out of the room for a moment when Banty made this +remark. + +"She's a dear girl," said Lady Alicia warmly. "It is a great talent, +I consider, to be able thoroughly to enjoy the little comforts in our +daily life. Joan loves the scent of a flower, the breeze on the moor, +the sight of a sunset, a fire-lit room, and a hundred other details +which would escape some people's observation altogether." + +"They wouldn't mean much to me," said Banty frankly. "I love sport, you +know. That comes first with me. The country, with all its scents and +sights, is only a background. Joan scolded me the other day. I've been +puzzling over her words. She told me to wake up, and said there was +a part of me that wanted to be stirred into life. Now I consider I'm +alive to my finger-tips. I can spot a fox two or three fields off, and +there isn't much going on out of doors that I don't know about!" + +"You must ask Joan one day what she did mean," said Lady Alicia, +looking at her kindly. + +"I don't think she's one of that preaching lot. I couldn't stand any of +that. She's too jolly in herself to mean anything canty." + +Lady Alicia wisely changed the subject. After Banty had gone, she said +to Joan: + +"There's a girl who needs a helpful woman friend. I am so glad that she +likes you, and that you have begun to influence her." + +"I don't know that I have. I tried to say something the other day, but +she did not respond. Banty is very difficult, Lady Alicia. I feel, +in talking with her, that unless you're on the subject of sport, you +might as well be bumping your head against a stone wall for all the +impression you will make." + +"I think you will make way in time. Pray a lot before you speak." + +"Oh, I wish you were going to stay longer," said Joan impulsively. + +"I wish I could. One day you must come and stay with me. I should like +to take you abroad. But I shall like to look back and remember this +visit of mine. Your environment is the right one for you, Joan, and I +am quite content that for the time your literary powers should be in +abeyance." + + +When Lady Alicia had left, Joan felt rather lonely. But the rush and +bustle of Christmas was upon her, taxing all her powers. And when it +was over, Mrs. Adair wrote saying that she and Cecil would be coming +home for a couple of weeks before they went abroad. Those two weeks +brought a mixture of pleasure and pain to Joan. Cecil was in high +spirits, and Mrs. Adair much less captious and difficult to please. But +the rector grew very depressed, and confided to Joan that he did not +know where the money would come from for all that was needed. And it +seemed to Joan that every post brought parcels from town with expensive +gowns and wraps, and odds and ends, from shoes and boots to soap and +veils and gloves. + +She remonstrated with Cecil when she showed her a delicately painted +chiffon scarf that had cost four guineas. + +"Do you forget that Father is a poor man? This will never come out of +your allowance, and he has already a sheaf of bills which he does not +know how to pay. It is not honest or right, Cecil. I could not do it if +I were in your place." + +"My dear old strait-laced Joan, your mouth is drawing itself down till +your lips meet your chin! Do, for pity's sake, mind your own business! +Bills can wait. It isn't cash on delivery with us. And Father is too +fussy! He always makes a moan over his poverty—always has! And he is +not a poor man now. Now just tell me if you think these blue feathers +match that blue cloth gown of mine. I'm not satisfied with them. I +think I shall send them back." + +Joan curbed her impatience. She shook her head at her. + +Cecil continued in a different tone. + +"Of course you live in such a hole here that you can have no idea how +people in society dress nowadays. I'm simply nowhere and nobody—in +the swim. Why, your old black evening dress was made six years ago, +now wasn't it? But it does quite well for the frump parties in Old +Bellerton. Have you been to any more dinner parties? And have you got +to know the proud scholar and the hermit major?" + +"Yes," said Joan quietly. "I know them both. Mr. Wilmot Gascoigne is +still in town. He has been there for some weeks, and Major Armitage +has just come home. He took the service last Sunday evening and played +exquisitely." + +"Get him to play this next Sunday and come to supper afterwards. I like +him. He's a mystery." + +"He won't do that." + +Joan spoke with conviction. She had rather timidly suggested to Major +Armitage that he should come to dine when her mother returned, and he +had promptly though courteously refused. + +"Ah, well," said Cecil, "thank goodness in another week we shall be in +another clime." + +A day or two after this, Joan approached her mother on the subject of +expense. She dreaded speaking, but her father had asked her to try to +make her mother understand that it was not meanness on his part, but +sheer inability to produce what was required. And she knew that her +father shrank from all altercations about money affairs. + +Joan plunged into the subject with heightened colour. She was packing a +trunk in her mother's bedroom—a trunk of miscellaneous articles which +was also to contain a good many books. + +"I wish Cecil would pack a few more books and a few less gowns," she +said. "She seems to have no idea of economy in dress." + +"She is rather extravagant," said Mrs. Adair. "But I was like it at her +age; I hope she will require less as time goes on." + +"She does not realise how really poor we are, Mother. Do you know +that Father has overdrawn two hundred pounds from his bank this year +already? And he has a big bundle of bills all waiting to be paid. I +don't know what we are to do. I feel I must make money if I can in some +way; but how to do it in this village is the difficulty!" + +After a moment's pause Mrs. Adair replied: + +"I think I shall be able to help him more in future. I am thinking of +writing a book on the Riviera. I have had it formulated in my own mind +for a long time—not a guide book, but a chatty history of the sunny +shores of the Mediterranean. And this, in addition to my reason for +taking Cecil, is why I wish to go abroad this year; I want to locate +some of my facts. There is nothing that pays so well, or so quickly, +as writing books. If this one is successful, there will be no money +difficulties in future. I tell you this in confidence. I do not want it +talked about until it is accomplished." + +"I do hope it will be a success," said Joan warmly. "It is sure to be, +Mother, if you write as you talk." + +This idea of Mrs. Adair's did much to bring comfort and hope to Joan's +heart. And the last days were, on the whole, pleasant to them all. + +On the evening prior to their departure, they gathered round the +drawing-room fire for a last talk together. Mr. Adair patted his wife's +hand affectionately as he sat next to her. + +"I shall look forward to having you back very soon, Cecilia. When the +early summer comes you will lose your heart to this place, and, please +God, we shall have a happy summer together." + +Mrs. Adair smiled. She was in one of her softest moods that night, and +Joan was glad afterwards to be able to look back and remember it. + +"It is a pity you cannot take a chaplaincy abroad in the winter, then +we could be together." + +"Ah! But I could not leave my parish, and I do not think I am cut out +for that kind of billet. I love my poor folk, and am very happy here. I +think you would like it, if you would try to settle down. We must hope +Cecil will grow stronger. She looks very well just now." + +"'Her looks never pity her,' as your poor folk say. I wish she could +outgrow her delicacy." + +"We must be thankful we have one daughter who does us credit," said Mr. +Adair, looking across at Joan with much pride and affection. + +Cecil laughed: + +"For mercy's sake, don't pit Joan and me one against the other. This +talk is much too personal: I hope you will pursue the friendship of the +Major, Joan. I must tell you a very interesting fact. You know what the +people say of his property, that no heir will be born in it till it +reverts to its old owners?" + +"Yes, I have heard it quite lately." + +"Well, at Uncle Robert's we were looking up some of the family +genealogies one evening, and, lo and behold! We have an ancestress, a +certain Gertrude Rolleston, who was the only daughter and heiress more +than a hundred years ago. She married a Lovell, and her cousin came +in for the property. I can't think why she did not. She seems to have +dropped out of the running. Now, if you and the Major would only make a +match of it, the spell of bad luck would be broken, and Rolleston Court +would be flourishing once more." + +"Don't be ridiculous, Cecil." + +"Tell him you are a direct descendant of the last of the Rollestons and +see what he says." + +"But I think from what I hear," put in the rector, "that the Major's +affections are engaged elsewhere." + +"Then he must promptly break it off and bestow his affections on Joan," +said Cecil. "He will if he knows she will bring luck to him again." + +"Some people value love more than luck," said Joan lightly. She knew it +was of no use taking Cecil seriously. + +Cecil made a grimace. + +"Who thinks of love nowadays! People who go in for it are simply +cultivating misery for themselves. If there's no love, there's no +jealousy or grief in separation. It's the greatest mistake in the world +to let your heart govern your life." + +"My dear child," said her mother, feeling obliged to remonstrate, +"don't affect such misanthropy. Be simple and natural, and don't +pretend you believe what you say." + +A slight flush came to Cecil's cheeks. Her mother so seldom reproved +her that she hardly knew how to take it. + +"I should be sorry to be as soft and sentimental as Joan is," she said +a little scornfully. + +"Am I?" Joan returned good-naturedly. "The other day I was visiting +an invalid dressmaker in the village who feeds her mind on penny +novelettes, and when I suggested a different kind of literature she +said: 'Eh, Miss Adair, 'tis easy to see that you carry no feelin' +heart, for there be no wrinkles on your brow. You would smile—now +wouldn't you?—if all your lovers were languishin' and dyin' for +reciprocation from you. It wouldn't make so much as your eyelashes +flutter!'" + +"I can't conceive how you can let the villagers speak to you so," said +Cecil, crossly refusing to laugh. + +"Well, you see what my character is in their eyes." + +Conversation then turned on other things. When the sisters separated +for the night, Joan said affectionately: + +"I wish you and I saw more of each other, Cecil. We hardly know each +other, do we?" + +"No," said Cecil, looking at her half curiously, half wistfully. "You +are an enigma to me. You seem to feel some things so intensely and +others not at all. If I had to live your present life, I should die of +the dumps within six months. I suppose your requirements are fewer than +mine, and yet Mother tells me, she considers that I haven't half your +brain." + +Joan was silent for a moment, then she said slowly: + +"Content can be cultivated, Cecil." + +Cecil shrugged her shoulders. + +"Content would make a beggar live and die in a ditch." + + +They went the next morning. Both Joan and her father drove to the +station to see them off. They were all cheerful up to the last minute; +but as Joan was driving her father home again in the little jingle, he +said to her: + +"These dreadful partings are a sore trial to me. I feel now as if your +mother and I will never live together again. It is hoping against hope. +I never thought they would go away this winter. I did expect that our +altered circumstances would induce them to stay at home." + +"It is the cold, Father, dear. Cecil has been so accustomed to winter +out of England that she does not seem as if she can endure our cold." + +The rector shook his head, and it was days before he could overcome his +depression. Joan needed all her cheerful spirits to make the wheels go +round. Even Sophia was cross and grumpy. + +"The mistress will repent it one day, when the dear old master be taken +from her," she said to Joan. + +"Hush, hush, Sophia! It is not your place to criticise my mother." +Joan's head was held high as she spoke. + +Sophia gave a sniff. + +"'Tis like the rest of the world—'tis most of it mixed wrongly. There +be women who don't know the value of men, and then there be men who +make havoc of faithful women's hearts. The single are the blessed of +the earth, as I tell M'ria. If he only knew it, the Major is courtin' +disaster when his heart is so full of a wife." + +Joan was wise enough to make no reply. She occupied herself more than +ever in the parish, and in a week or two her father had recovered his +usual equanimity of mind, and had settled down into his customary +groove. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LITERARY ATTEMPTS + +"JOAN, will you entertain Major Armitage? Our smoke and chat have +been interrupted, for John Veale has come up to have a talk about the +bell-ringers." + +The rector ushered the Major into the drawing-room as he spoke. Joan +was sitting by the fire, a big work-basket by her side; she was mending +house linen with a skilful hand, but her thoughts were far-away. She +was in a thin blue-grey gown, which became her fairness and intensified +the deep blue of her eyes. Her thoughtful, abstracted air vanished, her +smile and dimple appeared, as she rose to greet the guest. + +"I did not know you were here," she said. "I have heard voices in the +study, and concluded it was John Veale, who was expected. I am so glad +you have been having a chat with Father; he does so enjoy it. But he +and I generally separate after dinner for an hour. He very often has a +nap." + +"I hope I am not an interruption to you." + +"Indeed you are not." Joan sat down and took up her mending again. "I +can work as well as talk." + +"I don't doubt that, but it was interruption of thoughts which I meant." + +Joan looked up at him and smiled. + +"They were unprofitable," she said. "The fact is, I was worrying over +things, and I am glad to be interrupted." + +"And that was what brought me out and down to your organ," said the +Major; "and after I had quieted myself, I turned in here. The rector +has good, sound, wholesome views of life. He did me good in five +minutes." + +Joan did not answer for a moment. + +The Major looked across at the piano, a semi-grand, belonging to Mrs. +Adair. "May I play to you what I played in church just now?" he asked +simply. + +"Oh, please. I shall like to hear it." + +He sat down and played Sullivan's "God shall wipe away all tears from +their eyes." + +His liquid and exquisite touch, the expression and tone which he got +from the instrument, and the sweet melody itself, brought tears of +delight to Joan's eyes. She was emotional and impressionable where +music was concerned, and when the last notes died away, she sat with +misty eyes gazing into the blazing fire. Then she roused herself. + +"Don't stop," she said. "It is heavenly!" + +Major Armitage ran his fingers over the keys and began to improvise. +From discord to harmony, from unrest to peace—that seemed the burden of +his theme. He stopped rather abruptly at last, and came and re-seated +himself by the fire. + +"Feel better?" he inquired cheerily. + +"Ever so much," said Joan. "How well I can understand Saul being +soothed by music. It lifts one right outside oneself and up into +infinity. How I wish I had your gift!" + +He shook his head in disapproval. + +"I don't think it has brought me any good. It makes one unfit to mix +with one's fellow-creatures, and fosters unsociability and the habits +of a recluse. And I am not the musician I ought to be. I give so much +time to composing that I leave little time for practising." + +"You have published a good deal, have you not?" + +"Chiefly songs. I want to instil a love for melody into the present +generation. It is despised nowadays—our grandfathers and grandmothers +loved it—and it touches the emotions and heart like nothing else." + +"Yes," said Joan, thoughtfully; "I know what you mean. One hears so +much brilliant and hard playing, such good technique, and such weird +harmonies that music does anything but soothe; it needs all one's brain +to understand and follow it. And, somehow or other, people are afraid +of playing anything else. There is so little music in the average home +now. Girls are not able to attain to the standard put before them, and +so they refuse to play at all. Even Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn +are out of fashion, though they will never lose their charm." + +Then she added in an impulsive tone: "That is what I was wishing when +you came into the room, that I could originate—compose—not music, but +books. My mother says it pays so well. I am half inclined to try." + +"There are a good many in the field," said Major Armitage, doubtfully. +"Don't turn yourself into a writer, Miss Adair; so many want you +in your capacity of general adviser and comforter. You will become +like me, self-absorbed and isolated, and indifferent to your +fellow-creatures." + +"Oh, why should I?" + +"I don't know. I suppose the creatures of one's brain are dearer to one +than those of flesh and blood. One lives in imagination, and not in +fact." + +"I don't think I could write stories," said Joan; "but I was always +good at essay writing, and I thought of trying a few articles on +country life and Nature. I want money badly, Major Armitage, though +perhaps I should not say so to you. I feel I must try and earn +something, and it is difficult when one is tied to a country village +like this." + +"Have you tried your hand at poetry?" + +"No," said Joan, slowly; "at least, I suppose I am not an exception to +most girls. When we are very young, we all try to be poets! But it is +not my line." + +"I wish it were mine," said the Major, with a little sigh. "I get ideas +at the piano for which I want words. I make a few bungling attempts, +but I am not cut out for it." + +Joan thought of the sweet little poem she had returned, but said not a +word. + +"Try your hand at writing, Miss Adair, if you want to do so. I have a +great friend. He is editor of 'English Thoughts,' and he is very fond +of country articles and Nature studies. If you would allow me to submit +one of your ventures to him, he would say at once whether he could use +it or not." + +"I am afraid it would be a quick refusal, but you inspire me to try, +and I should be most grateful for the introduction." Then she added: +"Of course, I need not say that I want my efforts to be unknown." + +"I will respect your confidence, but—" and here a little smile came to +his lips—"I am not a talker, so I shall not be dangerous in that way." +Then he said: "I have an invitation to Ireland, and I do not know that +I ought not to accept it; but I can't leave home for another month, for +I have work that must be finished. I have a widowed sister, with one +child, living in the country near Donegal." + +"Of course, you will go?" + +"Yes; I am the only one who can. I have no responsibilities. My other +brothers are all married men." + +They were interrupted in their talk by the rector's entrance, and soon +afterwards Major Armitage went. But Joan found her thoughts straying +after him. She was becoming very interested in his affairs, and mused +upon the strange mixture that was in his composition—the dual nature of +a dreamy and imaginative musician and a keen soldier. + + +The very next day she started her first attempt at literature. Her +father was so increasingly anxious about ways and means that she felt +desperate. But she found it extremely difficult to get quiet time +for writing. It was an impossibility throughout the day as she had +incessant interruptions. But after dinner, in the evening, when her +father retired to his study for a nap, she seized her pen and paper, +and, sitting by the drawing-room fire, tried to produce some of the +thoughts and impressions of her brain. It was difficult work at first. +She wrote, and destroyed, revised, and destroyed again; and when, +eventually, she accomplished a short article, which she entitled, "An +Autumn Afternoon on our Heath," she was strangely dissatisfied with it. +She was shy of mentioning it to her father, and the more she read it, +the less she liked it. At last, plucking up her courage, she sent it +over to Major Armitage, with the following note: + + "DEAR MAJOR ARMITAGE,—I send you my first attempt. If it is too crude, +too uninteresting and amateurish, do not send it to your friend. I will +wait till I can do better. Is it troubling you too much to ask you to +read it, and act according to your judgment?—Yours sincerely,— + + "JOAN ADAIR." + +She received an answer in two hours' time: + + "DEAR MISS ADAIR,—Pluck up heart! It is first-rate, and I have +dispatched it by this evening's post. May it prosper in the hands of +the editor.—Your sincere friend,— + + "R. ARMITAGE." + +Joan resigned herself to patient waiting. Meanwhile fortune favoured +her, for one morning Mrs. Blount, the doctor's wife, arrived to ask +her advice about a governess for her two little boys. Joan promptly +proposed herself as teacher, and Mrs. Blount was delighted. She agreed +to send the children to the rectory every morning from nine to twelve. +Mr. Adair made no objections, and Joan took the children into the +dining-room, where they were busy all the morning. It was not liberal +pay, for the doctor was not a wealthy man, but two pounds per month was +well worth to Joan the few hours of her time, and she did not grudge +the extra work thrown upon her shoulders in the afternoon. The boys +were already devoted to her, and they proved docile and intelligent +pupils. + +One morning Wilmot Gascoigne appeared, and was very much annoyed when +Sophia told him that Joan was engaged and could not see him. He came +round again about tea-time, and reproached Joan with having treated him +so. + +She explained, but the frown did not leave his brow. + +"What waste of good material! How can you bring yourself to do it?" + +"I love it. They are dears. Besides, I want the money." + +"Oh, what a curse the—the want of money is! I should be in America now +if it were not for that reason. And poverty is a shameful incentive to +talent or genius. It is so degrading—the matter of pounds, shillings +and pence!" + +"I don't know," said Joan, impulsively. "Poverty is an incentive to +me—to attempt! I am trying my hand at writing." + +Wilmot smiled and held out his hand. + +"Shake hands. I always thought you would be a success in that line. May +I see the attempt?" + +"Major Armitage has it—or, rather, a friend of his has it by this time, +I hope." + +The disgust, as well as astonishment, depicted on Wilmot's face made +Joan laugh. + +"That music crank! Well, I did think, considering our friendship and +intercourse, that you would have come to me first for advice about a +literary effort." + +"You have been away," faltered Joan. + +"Then could you not have written? Is it a case of being out of sight +out of mind?" + +Joan hardly knew what to say. + +"The fact is I have too many friends," she said lightly, "and I am +perfectly certain that this poor attempt of mine is doomed to failure. +It is just as well that you have had nothing to do with it, Mr. +Gascoigne." + +"Have you any of your writing which you could show me?" Wilmot asked +eagerly. + +"I am such a beginner. I am simply doing it to get money, not from love +of producing. I don't even know if there is anything inside me that is +worth producing." + +"If there is, and I believe there is," said Wilmot, looking at her +thoughtfully, "you and I will produce something together. I'll stay +down here on purpose. It will be worth it." + +"I couldn't think of working with anyone else," said Joan, quickly. +"Why, all my ideas would run dry at once!" + +"You never know what you can do till you try. You must have a copy of +what you have sent up. Do prove yourself a friend and show it to me." + +Very reluctantly, Joan left the room to get her much corrected and very +untidy MS. Wilmot frowned impatiently when she had left the room. + +"It's always my luck to be too late on the field. Plague take that +dotty Major! Why on earth does he poach on my preserves! And what a +Hebe she is! I haven't seen a woman in town who can hold a candle to +her! She's utterly wasted in this hole. If she is to be a literary +success—and she has no average woman's intellect—I'm determined that +mine shall be the hand to lead her to fame, and no other!" + +Fate was against Wilmot at present, for Joan entered the room again +much more hurriedly than she left it. + +"Oh, I am so sorry, but they have sent for me; I shall have to fly. +Little Johnnie Craddings has scalded himself, and his mother is out for +the day. Do you care to come down the village with me, or would you +like a chat with my father?" + +"I will come with you, if you are not going to adopt motor speed." + +"Poor little Johnnie!" gasped Joan. + +She was literally running down the drive, and Wilmot Gascoigne, with a +face as black as night, was trying to keep pace with her. + +He endeavoured to turn the current of her thoughts to literature again, +but it was hopeless. Johnnie's accident engrossed Joan's mind to the +exclusion of every other subject. + +He accompanied her to the door of the cottage, then took a surly +farewell of her, and returned to the Hall, feeling furious with Major +Armitage and with poor Johnnie. + + +Joan did not see him till a fortnight later, and, meantime, she had +the joy of hearing that her article was accepted and that others of a +similar character could be taken. + +With her two small pupils and literary work in addition to her usual +household and village duties, Joan was now more than busy, but she +enjoyed it all; and when she handed the cheque for her first article +to her father to help pay some of the numerous bills which were so +distressing him, it was the happiest hour in her life. + +He was at first reluctant to take it. "It is yours, my dear child. Why +should I rob you of your first earnings?" + +"Ah! But I am earning to help you; and, after all, Dad, dear, the bills +are as much mine as yours. We cannot separate ourselves from our joint +expenses." + +"They are mostly your mother's debts—and—and Cecil's." + +"Yes—well, that is what I mean. You and I are going to try to pay them +off. They belong to our family." + +It was a day or two after this that Joan was invited with her father to +dine at the Hall. It was not a dinner party; only themselves, another +neighbouring rector (who was a bachelor), and a General and Mrs. +Thane. There was a sister of Lady Gascoigne's staying in the house. +Wilmot took Joan in to dinner, and talked hard about literature as a +profession the whole time. + +"It is the most satisfying life on earth," he said enthusiastically. +"Singers lose their voices, actresses their charm, when age creeps on; +but the brain only mellows and ripens, and gains in experience with +every added year. You are great on influence, Miss Adair. Think of the +wide-reaching influence of the pen! No other profession can touch it in +its infinity of power and scope." + +Joan felt her heart throb as she caught some of his enthusiasm. She, +who had longed to impart knowledge and mould character, now had a +vision of a wide and never-ending stream of influence flowing from her +pen. + +Then he came to more personal details. + +"I read your little article, and see much promise in it. You have +the faculty of seeing with your own eyes, and describing with quaint +freshness your own impressions; and they are original. We do not want +platitudes or mediocre writing in these days. There is a lack of style +and finish which can soon be remedied. If you would allow me to look at +your next attempt, I could show you in a moment what I mean." + +Joan murmured her thanks. She was grateful for the interest which +Wilmot showed in her first effort and for the encouragement which he +was giving her. + +When dinner was over, and the ladies were in the drawing-room, Banty +came brusquely up to her. + +"Now, look here, don't you get too thick with Motty, for he has a way +of preying on likely subjects who minister to his self-love and become +his willing and devoted slaves. He took up a poor cousin of mine who +thought she could write poetry. I believe she could have done so if he +had left her alone, but he altered and clipped her work to suit his +own ideas, and subjugated her mind to his, till it became a mass of +confused pulp, and then, when her writing turned to insipid rot, he +shrugged his shoulders and cast her from him in contempt." + +Joan looked at Banty in surprise. She had never heard her talk on any +subject but hunting, and was for a moment silent. + +Banty gave a nervous laugh. + +"Yes, I can see through Motty, though he considers me on a level with +the lower animals. 'A good old cow,' I have heard him call me. But +cows perhaps notice more than we give them credit for. You're too good +a sort to be crushed by him. He is mostly gas, you know! And all his +big talk won't make me believe in him. Now, let us put him out of our +thoughts. I want another tea amongst the pines with you." + +"The weather is too wet at present, isn't it?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I think under the trees we shan't feel it. But I +expect you're not quite so weather-proof as I am. I'll come round to +you. Will you be in the day after to-morrow? I'm not hunting, so I'll +look in about four." + +"All right. I shall expect you then." + +"And now you must talk to Aunt Hetty. Ask her to play. She rather +fancies herself as a musician. Motty says it's like a cat scrambling +over the keys; but she attends every concert going in town, and is up +in all the musical jargon of the day." + +Joan was then introduced to Miss Parracombe, who was a tall and angular +lady, with a very large nose and a small chin. + +"I hear you play the organ in church?" she began at once. "I hope it is +from choice, and not from duty, that you do it. It's a sad pity this +is such an unmusical house. I feel like a fish out of water. I was +hoping to meet a Major Armitage. Do you know him? They tell me he shuts +himself up in the country. But I know friends of his in town, and, as +a composer of a certain style, he is well-known. I asked my sister +to have him to dinner. She says he always refuses to dine out. But I +can quite understand that he finds no kindred soul in this house, and +does not want to spend the precious hours of his time in uncongenial +society. I find it a trial myself. This perpetual talk of hunting and +sport bores me to death. Will you play to us, Miss Adair? I am sure you +are musical." + +Joan shook her head, but asked Miss Parracombe if she would play +herself, and she went to the piano with much alacrity. She began a +fugue of Bach's, which she certainly played correctly, though without +an atom of expression. Joan listened with interest. She had expected +the old lady to play some of the old-fashioned "fireworks" of her young +days. + +Banty yawned, and Lady Gascoigne exchanged whispered remarks with Mrs. +Thane. It was a relief to all when the gentlemen came into the room, +and very soon afterwards Mr. Adair and Joan took their departure. +Wilmot accompanied them into the hall. + +"Will you be in on Friday afternoon?" he asked Joan. + +"Yes. Banty is coming to tea. Do come with her." + +"Dash her!" he muttered. "The next day, then?" + +"I am afraid I am engaged. Father and I are going over to a +neighbouring rectory to tea." + +"When will you be disengaged?" + +His voice was coldly quiet. + +Joan looked up at him and laughed. "I'm a very busy person!" + +"So I gather. I'll drop in on Saturday evening, after dinner. I shall +be in town to-morrow for a night. I must see you soon. I want a talk +with you." + +"Very well. I shall be at home." + +Joan and her father drove home in their little jingle. They could not +afford the village fly, for Joan was economising in every direction. +She was silent for some minutes; then she said: + +"Do you like Mr. Gascoigne, Dad? Do you think him a reliable man? I +always think you're a judge of character." + +"He does not appeal to me," said Mr. Adair, promptly. "He is a man who +can only talk shop, and if anyone is not interested in his tastes, he +will not trouble to make himself pleasant to them. Naturally, I prefer +Major Armitage's society, for I know nothing of literature, especially +of the literature that Wilmot Gascoigne likes to talk about. With +Armitage I am at home. He doesn't discuss music, but village topics and +politics—anything which he knows interests me." + +"Yes," said Joan, slowly. "I suppose Mr. Gascoigne is one-sided; but +it is difficult to suppress the fullness of one's heart. He is so +enthusiastic! Perhaps he may be selfish and intolerant; Banty thinks he +is. But he carries me away when once he begins to talk." + +She wondered, as she lay awake that night reviewing the evening that +was past, whether he would, as Banty said, seek to subjugate her mind +to his, and fetter and clip her originality. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +TROUBLE AT ROLLESTON COURT + +BANTY arrived on Friday afternoon. + +"My aunt has been putting her foot in it," she informed Joan. "Would +you believe it, she forced her way into Rolleston Court yesterday +afternoon? She went out for a constitutional, and a shower of rain came +on. She was told that the Major was engaged. + +"'Oh, never mind, I am sure he won't object to my taking shelter for a +short time,' she said, and in she went. + +"His housekeeper took her into the drawing-room and entertained her for +about half an hour. She gave her tea, and though it was getting dusk, +Aunt Hetty wouldn't budge. She talked away to the housekeeper, and I +expect made her giddy with her talk. I know she does me! Then she heard +the sounds of music upstairs. + +"'Yes, 'tis the Major playing in the music-room,' she was told. Then +she got up, and I can fancy her excitement. + +"'I am a musician myself—a fellow artiste. We are kindred spirits. I +must hear him. He will not mind.' She stole upstairs, and listened +outside the door at first, then boldly opened it and crept in behind +a screen. His music was so exquisite, she told us, that she forgot +herself and clapped her hands loudly. She said he sang a perfectly +lovely little song about some invisible lady love, and it was that +which bowled her over. In an instant he appeared; and she says his eyes +flashed fire and he was white with rage. He took her by the arm and +marched her downstairs. + +"'If a man cannot have privacy in his own house,' he spit out, 'where +can he have it? I don't know who you are, nor do I care; but this is an +unwarrantable intrusion!' + +"She tried to explain who she was, but he firmly and quietly ejected +her, and she came home boiling and spluttering with rage. + +"I left her writing a long letter of explanation to him this afternoon. +She seems to think her appreciation of his music is sufficient excuse +for an impertinence on her part. What awful tempers these writers and +musicians have! It's the artistic temperament, isn't it? That's what +they call it. I must say I'm thankful not to possess it. It takes a +good bit to rouse my ire; but Motty is awful to live with, and they're +all so restless and excitable. Of course, I don't know much of Major +Armitage, but he's queer. I expect my aunt will come down and victimise +you pretty soon. She wants to get up a village concert. Do put her off +it if you can. I'm morally certain Major Armitage won't appear at it, +and you and she will have to do the whole of it." + +Banty paused for breath. + +"I'm sorry for poor Major Armitage," said Joan feelingly. "Maria told +Sophia that he is most tenacious over his privacy. When Dad was ill in +his house, I never saw the inside of that music-room. It is his sanctum +in every sense of the word." + +"Well, don't let us talk any more about him. I'm amused at Aunt Hetty's +set-back. Let's talk about ourselves. Only first of all, I wish you'd +tell me why you've turned yourself into a governess. Is it from sheer +love of teaching?" + +"No; want of money," said Joan frankly. + +"I'm sorry. Don't think me a meddler, but isn't this a fairly good +living? I'm sure nobody could accuse you of extravagant living." + +"I hope not," Joan said with her happy laugh. "But we had heavy +expenses before we came here." + +"How is your sister Cecil?" Banty asked abruptly. "I always think she +ought to make a good marriage; she is just the sort that men admire. +I think a girl who hunts hasn't the same chances as one of these +feminine, alluring girls who give men such copious admiration. We +become good chums with men, but no more. Only a few care for open-air +wives—you know what I mean. You'll think I'm always talking about +marriage, but I feel sore. I thought it well out and have sent Mr. +Nugent about his business. I came to the conclusion I couldn't run in +harness with him. I should jib! Yesterday I heard he is just engaged +to Molly Lambert. She lives in the next county. So much for deep +attachment! I expect he only wants a housekeeper, and in that case, +Molly will suit him better than I, for she has managed her father's +house since she was twelve years old. But he didn't lose much time, did +he? And Mother is quietly furious. Do you think I have a miserable time +ahead of me if I remain single?" + +"Of course not; but—" + +"Yes; give me your 'buts.' I loved your little preach some time ago. I +think you almost made my soul—as you call it—flutter, for, do you know, +I'm beginning to believe I have one." + +"I can only repeat what I said before, that there is one side of us—and +the only side that can bring us lasting happiness—which needs to be +cultivated." + +"The religious side, I suppose you mean? If church doesn't cultivate +it, what will? And I'm a most regular attendant at church, let me tell +you. But it has never made the least difference to me." + +"You want to be in touch with God Himself," said Joan softly. + +Banty leant back in her chair and stared at her perfectly +uncomprehendingly. + +"That wouldn't make 'me' happy," she said with conviction, "quite the +reverse. Now I'll be quite honest with you. There's nothing in me that +responds in the least bit to religion. I don't see the need for it. I +don't want to live my life up in the clouds. This world is good enough +for me." + +There was silence. Banty frowned, then said: + +"I've got enough, thanks, for to-day." + +Joan smiled, then laid her hand caressingly on her arm. + +"I shall end by getting very fond of you, Banty." + +The colour actually deepened in Banty's cheek. + +"Same with me," she said a little gruffly. + +They talked of other things then, and when Mr. Adair came in, Banty +lapsed into her usual abrupt and rather dull style of talk. Before she +went, she said to Joan, in the hall: + +"I'm getting interested in you. I'm planning out your future." + +"As you wish it to be, or as you think it will be?" + +"As I wish it. I mean to frustrate one possible future for you if I +can." + +She gave her a nod, and went without another word. + +Joan gazed after her with a smile and a sigh. + +"There are depths in her after all. What bunglers we are!" + + +Wilmot Gascoigne did not forget to appear on Saturday night. He sat +over the fire with Joan and fascinated her with his talk. Just before +he left, he said: + +"I have left the main object of my visit till now. I feel that you and +I have the same intuition about certain phases of life. For a long +time I have been anxious to write a book which will do more than amuse +the public—that kind of novel has a run for a year, then disappears +as quickly as it came. I want to write for futurity. Now, my theory +is that a woman writer can never write naturally and effectively +about a man in all his various stages, nor can a man gauge a woman's +fluctuating moods correctly, for each can only judge of the minds of +the opposite sex by what they see and hear, never from the fount of +their own experience. I want to instruct and to awaken the dormant +intellects of my readers. To do this, the book must be strong; it +must have no weak points; it must not flag in interest; it must +stimulate the curiosity, and, in short, I need a woman collaborator. +Now, will you be that woman? Down in this quiet hole, we shall have +plenty of time and opportunity for discussion and suggestions. I have +already simmering in my mind a dozen plots. I want a woman's delicate +intuition, her feminine instinct, to help me in evolving a creation +of what a woman should be in our present generation. I don't want to +create one of the shrieking sisterhood—a mockery of all that is truly +feminine and uplifting—nor do I want a flimsy, insipid Early Victorian +doll. I know you are the one woman in the world who can help me at this +juncture—will you do it?" + +"It is rather a startling proposition," said Joan, with a long-drawn +breath. "I suppose I ought to feel flattered. I do. I thank you for +thinking of me. Writing is so new to me that I feel like a duckling on +the edge of a pond trying for the first time the element of water. But +I am afraid I shall have no time. I can hardly get through my days as +it is. And how about you? Are you nearly through your Chronicles? Won't +they have to be finished first?" + +Wilmot gave a little snort. + +"They'll never be finished," he said. "I'm already bored to tears with +them. There's nothing in the dull, monotonous lives of the Gascoignes +to make the book live. It will be a series of births, marriages, and +deaths, and of dates. I would like to make a bonfire of the whole." + +"Why don't you finish them up?" + +"Because I'm always hoping to rake out something racy from the piles +of dusty manuscripts and letters I have given to me. They won't let +me invent. It would be easy sailing then. I tell you the Gascoigne +Chronicles are dulling my powers and fettering my genius. You can't +live for ever on dry bread. I want to sandwich my book in; it will be +jam and butter to me!" + +Joan laughed. She felt strangely stirred. Wilmot's society was +delightful to her. He talked of books and of subjects of which she had +heard and talked at college. He had theories on every fact of life, and +opened vistas of new thought and conjecture to her. She longed to throw +herself heart and soul into this project of collaboration with him, but +she felt, under her circumstances, that it would prove too engrossing +an occupation. + +"You must give me time to think about it," she said. "I will give you +an answer in a few days, but I doubt if I could really help you." + +"I shall not allow you to refuse me," he said, with one of the smiles +that always transfigured his face. + +But when he had gone Banty's words recurred to her: "He has a way of +preying on likely subjects who minister to his self-love and become his +willing and devoted slaves." + +They made her feel a little uncomfortable, and then she resolutely put +them from her. + +"Banty and he are at daggers drawn. She is unfair to him. I will not +believe that she is right in such a statement." + + +Sunday came. It was a busy and a happy day with Joan. She loved her +Sunday scholars, she loved her choir, and the music she produced from +the sweet little organ. The services were always a rest and refreshment +to her. Major Armitage came into the rectory after evening church and +stayed to supper. + +"I suppose you have heard of my iniquities?" he said to Joan. "I expect +the Hall will be cuts with me now." + +"No, I think they must all have felt that Miss Parracombe was to blame." + +"Ah! You have heard about it, then? I lost my temper and manners, and +showed her the door. But I have always believed that an Englishman's +house is his castle. They say I have a bee in my bonnet. I will +entertain ladies one day—at least, that is my hope—but never until I +have one of their sex to help me do it." + +The shadow fell upon his face. + +Joan was silent for a minute; then she said gently: + +"Miss Parracombe is a musician; she longs to meet you." + +"Oh, yes, I know; and I don't like musicians, Miss Adair. Isn't that a +bad confession? I have suffered from them in town, and I cannot take +part in their ready jargon. It is the clash of sounding brass to me; I +would rather shut my ears to it. Don't you think we all talk too much?" + +"I don't know," said Joan a little wistfully. "I learn a good deal from +other people's talk; and is not exchange of ideas always good?" + +The hard, set lines about his face disappeared. He smiled. + +"I like to talk to you," he said simply. "Well, Miss Parracombe has +sent me a voluminous explanation and apology, and I a very short and +curt one. She insisted upon shaking hands with me after church this +morning, and I have again been invited to the Hall—to lunch, to tea, +or to dinner. I have declined politely, and that is where we stand at +present. How is the writing getting on?" + +"I want to see myself in print," said Joan, laughing and colouring. +"When do you think my article will appear?" + +"Any time between this and next Christmas, I should say. Have you been +paid for it?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, you'll see it soon." + +"I have written a few more on the same lines, and two have been +accepted, one returned. The editor tells me not to go ahead too fast." + +"Why does he return one?" + +"He said it had too much of a religious element in it." + +Joan's face was very grave as she spoke; then she turned towards him +and her gaze was sweet and earnest. + +"Major Armitage, if I cannot write about what is breath and life to me, +I will not write at all." + +"What is your object in writing?" he asked slowly. + +"To make money, I am afraid." + +"Then you must be guided by the taste of the public and the advice of +your editor." + +Joan's brows were furrowed with deep thought. + +"I hear you sing in church," said Major Armitage; "will you sing to me +now?" + +She was rather glad to have a change of subject. + +"I haven't much of a voice," she said, "but I will do my best." + +"Will you sing 'O rest in the Lord.' I will play for you." + +They went to the piano. + +Joan's voice was true and very sweet; it had a pathetic ring in it +which often brought tears to the eyes of those who heard her. The Major +drew a long sigh when he had struck the last chord. Mr. Adair, who was +always very tired on Sunday night, and who had been napping in his +arm-chair whilst the talk had been going on, now roused himself to say: + +"That is beautiful, my dear Joan. Will you sing the evening hymn +now?—'Abide with me.'" + +Major Armitage knew at once which setting it was, and ran his fingers +over the keys. + +When she had finished, he rose from his seat and held out his hand. + +"I want that to be the last thing I hear," he said, smiling at her. "It +will ring in my head as I walk home." + +When he had gone, Joan sat down by the fire and relapsed into deep +thought. If her voice was still in his ears, so was his in hers. "You +must be guided by the taste of the public if you wish to make money." + +"What do I wish?" she said to herself. "If I can write, how awfully +responsible I am for what I write. I could make money, I suppose, in +lots of ways that would be neither honourable nor consistent with my +principles. Shall I throw my principles to the winds for the sake of +money? I cannot. And yet, when I think of lifting the strain from +Father's shoulders, of easing him of this dreadful wearing anxiety, I +feel as if I must throw everything to the winds and do it." + + +A few days after this, Sophia called Joan into the kitchen in a +mysterious way. It was six o'clock, and Joan at first thought that +something had gone wrong with their simple dinner. But Sophia pulled +the low arm-chair out for Joan to sit upon, and she knew then that a +talk was forthcoming. + +"You want a gossip, Sophia, I know you do; but it's a funny time to +choose." + +"Miss Joan, I never neglect my work. The steak pie is in the oven, and +my pudding is in the steamer. My vegetables are ready to pop into the +saucepans. I've sent Jenny upstairs to make herself tidy. There never +was such a tousled, fuzzy head as hers in all the world before. M'ria +has been to tea with me. She's in a sad way, M'ria is, for she says a +body must get attached to the Major, with all his cranks. I told her he +was here on the Sunday night, and he went off with such a cheery word +to me as I held open the door! + +"'Good-night,' he said; 'this house always seems like the gate of +Heaven to me. The atmosphere and harmony and music to-night have put +fresh life and hope into me.' Now, those were his very words—his very +last words." + +"Why, Sophia," cried Joan in a startled voice, "what has happened? Has +Maria brought you bad news of her master?" + +"Very bad, Miss Joan. Now, listen. Yesterday, at four o'clock, the +second post came in. M'ria generally takes the letters and puts them on +the table in the smoking-room. The Major sees them there directly he +comes in. As it happened, yesterday he hadn't gone out; he was writing +business letters. M'ria knows it was business, for he called her to +ask about some new kind of lamps they had had down from town for the +kitchens, and he told her he was going to pay for them." + +"Oh, Sophia, do get on. I don't care to know about the Major's +business." + +"Now, don't you fluster me. Of course, as I said to M'ria, it's just +a sign of the modern times, when folks write bad news without taking +the trouble to put it into a becoming black-edged envelope. They won't +reckernise affliction; 'tis just that; they won't pay respect to the +dead, because it makes them feel bad; and tears and becoming grief and +seclusion is all things of the past. Even widows—" + +"Sophia, you're doing it on purpose! Leave the widows alone and get on +with your story." + +"Well, Miss Joan, M'ria she handed the letters to the Major without a +thought, and then, as the curtains weren't drawn, she went across to +the windows and occupied herself with them; and she threw, so to speak, +a look over her shoulder, for she heard him draw a very heavy breath. +M'ria says she never saw a living man before turn into stone. His face +was white and blue and fixed. He held a letter and gazed at the air as +if—well, M'ria says it came to her in a flash that Lot's wife must have +looked like it when she was turned into salt. She was so scared, M'ria +was, that she crept out of the room and left him standing there. She +daren't go near him; but she heard him go straight upstairs and lock +himself up in the music-room. + +"When dinner-time came he didn't come out, and then M'ria got nervous +and went to the door and knocked. You do hear of such dreadful things, +Miss Joan, and, of course, she was fearing the very worst. But he +answered her quick and sharp: + +"'I want no dinner, and no disturbance,' he said, or words similar. + +"M'ria goes away, and she said her knees were trembling all the +evening. The house was silent as a grave. And then, about ten o'clock, +when the other maids had gone off to bed, to M'ria's great relief she +heard the piano playing in the music-room. She slipped upstairs to +listen, for she hoped now he'd got to his music he'd be feeling better; +and she was keeping a basin of soup hot against the time when he came +out. And what do you think he was playing, Miss Joan? M'ria said in the +empty, silent house it gave her the curdles all over. Nothing but that +awful rumbling funeral march for the dead!" + +Joan could say nothing. She only gazed at Sophia in silence. + +"Well, M'ria waited, all of a shiver, for him to stop; and when he +stopped there was silence, and still M'ria waited. And then at last, +the Major came out, and he walked straight for the stairs. Then she +made bold to speak. + +"'Please, sir,' she began, but he stopped her with a little wave of his +hand. + +"'Don't speak to me,' he said; 'I've been burying my dead.' + +"With that, he goes straight up the stairs and locks himself in his +room, and M'ria said she was so overcome with tears, she just had to go +back to the kitchen and drink up the hot soup herself." + +Joan was too miserable to smile. + +"Poor Major Armitage! I hope no very near relation has died." + +Sophia shook her head gloomily and mysteriously. "There's no mistake, +Miss Joan, in who it was. This morning, M'ria says, he's pulled down +the blinds of the boudoir and locked and bolted the door, and told +M'ria that nobody is ever to go near that room again. M'ria says he's +like a tomb, stony and dead like. It's his lady which is dead, sure +enough. In fact, he kind of apologised for wasting a good dinner last +night. He said to M'ria: + +"'I had had bad news, and I couldn't eat.' + +"Then M'ria asked, gentle like, if the household were to be in +mourning; and he looked at her as if he didn't understand her meaning. +But his look so awed her that she daren't say one word more, and that's +how it stands with him. I thought you'd be interested. I feel full up +of it myself." + +"But Maria and you will keep this to yourselves?" said Joan, almost +imploringly. "You won't let the village gossip over it?" + +"Miss Joan, M'ria and me know our duty towards them we serves," said +Sophia loftily. + +And then Joan slipped quietly away. + +Her heart ached for the lonely man; she almost felt as if his grief +were hers. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A FATEFUL TELEGRAM + +"YOU cannot walk so far." + +"Indeed I can. It is only four miles there. I shall rest when I get +there, and have my lunch and walk back. It is nothing for a strong and +hearty female like myself." + +"I hope Toby is not really ill?" + +"No; it's only a slight swelling on his hock. He is being bandaged, and +only wants a few days' rest. Don't worry, dear. I must see this woman. +I have promised her husband I will, and if I cannot drive, I must walk. +It's a lovely afternoon. I shall enjoy it." + +Joan and her father were talking together at lunch. She was taking +advantage of a birthday holiday given to her small pupils to go to see +one of the parishioners who had been taken to the infirmary in the +neighbouring market town; and owing to the indisposition of the pony +she could not use the little jingle. + +"You could hire a trap from the inn," her father suggested. + +Joan shook her head. + +"That would be reckless expense. Have your tea, for I shall be late, as +I have a good deal of shopping to get through; but I am perfectly equal +to the walk." + +She started in good spirits, taking Bob, her little terrier, with +her. Spring was in the air; there was blue sky and bright sun shining +overhead. She crossed the heath, and the fresh, pungent scent of the +pines and peat refreshed and delighted her. Joan often said she could +walk her worries away, and to-day was no exception to the rule. She did +not feel tired when she arrived in Coppleton. She saw the sick woman, +did her shopping, and had her lunch at a small confectioner's. + +Then, at three o'clock, she started homewards. The blue sky was gone +now, and heavy black clouds were rolling up. Joan began to wish she had +brought an umbrella. Before she had gone a mile from the town, rain +descended in torrents. It was a lonely road, and there was no shelter +of any sort near. She buttoned her coat up to her chin and pressed +steadily on; but wind and rain beat her back, and she began to feel +quite exhausted. Suddenly she heard quick-trotting hoofs behind her, +and a high dog-cart overtook her. She glanced up and saw it was Major +Armitage. He did not seem to see her; his face was stern and set, and +he was about to pass her, when in desperation she called to him. He +pulled up at once. + +"Oh! It's you, Miss Adair, what are you doing out in this storm so far +from home? I can offer you a seat, but not an umbrella, I'm afraid." + +"Thank you. I shall be delighted to get a lift." + +She climbed in and told him where she had been. She had not seen him +since Sophia had told her what had happened, and as she glanced up at +him she saw a great change in his face. The dreamy wistfulness had +departed; his profile might have been carved in granite, so stern and +immovable it was. + +He was very silent, and so was she, for a few minutes. Then she said: + +"You promised to play at our evening service last Sunday, but as you +did not turn up, I suppose something prevented your doing so?" + +He looked down at her quickly. + +"I did not know I had. My promise must have been made in another life. +I seem in a new era now. I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you; but the +fact is I cancelled all my engagements. I—I have been through a—a good +deal since I saw you last." + +"I am so sorry. I am afraid you have been in trouble." + +There was another silence. Then he gave a short laugh. + +"My house has asserted itself. I was a fool to think I could break the +long chain of ill-luck. I am thinking of shutting it up and going over +to Ireland." + +"So soon? We shall be sorry to lose you." + +"It isn't that I run away from it," he went on slowly; "but it will +never fulfil its purpose to me now, and so it is useless to me." + +"But your tenants will miss you." + +"Oh, no, they will not; my bailiff will look after them." + +Joan hardly knew what to say. + +"I have been living at the gate of paradise," he continued, "expecting +and glorying in the hope that it would soon be opened to me. I have +been shown that it will always remain bolted and barred to me. I +have been wasting my life, my time and thoughts, Miss Adair, over an +illusion. Yet some words you uttered once have continually come to +my mind: 'He performeth the thing that is appointed for me.' Do you +believe it?" + +"In my own experience I try to do so," said Joan thoughtfully. + +Major Armitage said no more for some time. The rain and wind beat in +their faces and made conversation difficult. But when they came into +Old Bellerton village, Joan spoke: + +"I am very grateful to you for driving me home, and, if I may say so, +still more for what you have told me. I am sure none of us ought to +believe in ill-luck, and you are strong enough to rise above it." + +"No, I am not," said Major Armitage; "but I suppose I can live doggedly +on. Do you know Dr. Sewell's couplet? + + "'When all the blandishments of life are gone, + The coward sneaks to death; the brave live on.'" + +Joan's eyes brightened. + +"I like that. And life is a wonderful thing, is it not? Our own lives +are so small compared with many others; it is the lives of those around +us that really matter, and what we can be to them." + +"You think we ought to be entirely detached from ourselves? That would +make us mere mechanical machines." + +She was silent. Then, as he reached the rectory gate, he pulled up his +horse and held out his hand to her. + +"Good-night, Miss Adair. You have done me good, and I promise to play +for you next Sunday evening. I shan't be leaving just yet. But I tell +you in confidence that my house now is an utter despair to me!" + +She looked up at him when she was turning in at the gate. Her eyes were +shining. + +"'He performeth the thing that is appointed for me,'" she repeated with +emphasis. + +And then the Major drove off and she went in to change her wet clothes, +and to think much of the blow that had befallen her friend. + + +Before the following Sunday came round, she had a great many other +matters that demanded all her time and attention. Wilmot Gascoigne had +cajoled her into co-operating with him over his book, and she found it +extremely difficult to give up the necessary time to it. She finally +arranged that upon every day on which he could come over, they should +work together between tea and dinner. Very often he asked if he might +stay to dinner, so as to continue the work immediately afterwards, and +not "break the thread" of their thoughts. + +Joan was so carried away with his enthusiasm, with his flow of ideas, +with his many problems needing deep discussion, that for some days +she was merely a listener, offering a few feeble and inadequate +suggestions; but as time went on she began to criticise, protest, and +utterly disagree with Wilmot's plot and principles. To her, his moral +instincts seemed warped; his conceptions of right and wrong confusing +and shadowy. But he had the gift of eloquent persuasion, and often +stopped her objections with a torrent of clever talk. Then he would +listen to her alternative course of reasoning, sometimes apparently +falling in with her views, but never eventually swerving from his point. + +She, on her part, gave him fresh ideas and thoughts, which he seized +with approval. But after a very few days of talking and working with +him, Joan had to acknowledge to herself that it was most fatiguing and +unsatisfactory. In addition to this, her father's affairs seemed more +and more involved. Letters came from his wife and daughter with demands +for money, which was simply not forthcoming. Every penny that could +be scraped together was sent out to them; but it was not sufficient, +and Mrs. Adair could not, or would not, understand her husband's +difficulties. Joan and her father grew to dread the sight of a foreign +letter lying on the breakfast-table. + +Joan at last quietly went into Coppleton and parted with an old +necklace of amethysts which had been given to her some years before by +Lady Alicia. But the task of cheering her father, teaching her small +pupils, working in the parish, helping in household duties, and trying +to keep her head and brains clear and bright for Wilmot's hours, proved +almost too much for her, and she found it quite impossible to continue +her own writing. She had neither the time nor the ideas. She told +Wilmot once that she had been forced to stop writing. He did not seem +much impressed. + +"Those short articles don't pay well, do they? And I want you to do +better work. You will. This book of ours is going to be a success. I +feel it is. We have got the right atmosphere, but it needs all our +concentration and purpose. We will put our best and strongest into it. +We must." + +So Joan braced herself afresh, but she felt strangely exhausted at +night; and could not feel assured that her help was as much as Wilmot +seemed to require and demand. + + +On Sunday evening Major Armitage played the organ, and came into supper +at the rectory afterwards. Joan thought him looking worn and ill, and +there were grim fixed lines about his face that used not to be there. +He seemed very distrait, as if conversation were an effort. Only once +he roused himself, and that was when he asked Joan to sing some of her +sacred songs. Mr. Adair remarked when he left that he must be in some +kind of trouble. + +"Of course, they say in the village he has lost someone dear to him. Do +you know anything about it, Joan? He has not gone into mourning." + +"Men don't," said Joan briefly. + +"They usually wear a black tie, not a coloured one." + +"We won't trouble about the village gossip, Father dear. If he had +wanted us to know, he would have told us." + +But the very next day, Joan wrote to Lady Alicia asking her if she +could tell her whether Irene Denbury was dead. + +Lady Alicia wrote promptly back. + + "MY DEAREST JOAN,—So you have not heard the news! Frank Denbury turned +up after all these years perfectly safe and sound. It is like a book. +I hear he is much improved; but he was wounded and ill, and tied by +the leg in some out-of-the-way place, and his letters never reached +home. You must forget the story I told you. Bury it deep. But how wise +and right Irene was to wait! What disaster she would have brought upon +herself if she had not. She goes out with him to America the end of +this month. She seems as if she wants to get away from England, and I +think it will be best for her. I am so interested in hearing about your +writing, dear, but don't forget that it is a trust and talent given to +you to develop and to use for eternity. I have heard from your mother. +She seems very happy and well. Much love,— + + "Yours lovingly, + + "ALICIA. + + "P.S.—Frank Denbury has quietly been adding to his fortune. I fancy his +wife might have been in the way; and, of course, he had no idea that +she thought him dead. But I consider him much to blame for his long +silence. It was not fair to any girl." + +Joan pondered long and deeply over this letter. She felt unreasonably +angry with Irene for having inspired Major Armitage with such love and +hope. + +"If she really loves him, how can she go off with her husband so easily +and happily? I couldn't have done it. And yet I suppose religion and +convention would say it was her duty to do so. She will most likely +settle down very comfortably with her husband, and forget the man who +is suffering tortures at present, and will never get over the blow." + +She pictured him in his music-room playing the "Dead March" and burying +deep for ever in the grave of his heart his first and only love. + +"A man of that age and temperament will never get over it," she said +to herself. "I wonder if he has enough religion to keep him sweet and +tender! His music is still his solace. I'm glad to think it is, for no +musician can get bitter and hard." + +Lady Alicia's letter gave her food for thought, and doubts again +assailed her as to whether Wilmot's book was a suitable one for her +to help to produce. When next he and she were working together he +propounded a certain situation from which her soul shrank. + +"No, that is blasphemous," she said hastily. "I will not be a party to +it." + +"My dear girl, don't be a prude. What is blasphemy? We must move with +the times, and we are not invoking the Deity in any way, or infringing +upon His prerogative." + +Joan looked at him with grave, sweet eyes. + +"Mr. Gascoigne, you and I can never work together. I see this more and +more. It was a mistake our making the attempt." + +"I have frightened you. We will leave this situation. I will work it +in so that it cannot possibly offend your principles. My dear partner, +we have gone along too far to dissolve our partnership. Now take these +sheets, and make a statement of our heroine's thoughts on this fatal +night. Put your soul into it, and let your words scorch and burn. Be +strong. Put yourself in her place, and write your thoughts as they +would have been in her circumstances." + +Joan gave a little sigh, but set to work; and the interest of her theme +took hold of and engrossed her. Afterwards, when Wilmot was taking his +leave, she strove to speak again. + +"I don't agree with so much that you write. We shall never see things +from the same standpoint. Don't you think you would get on quite as +well without me?" + +"No, I am not going to release you. Do you think I would take the +trouble to come out all weathers and spend the best part of my day down +here if I did not mean business? And think of the chance you would +miss. Fame is in this book—I feel it—and money, and you and I will be +partners in it." + +It was always the way. He would not take her objections seriously, and +Joan's conscience was uneasy and troubled in consequence. + +Banty could not understand the situation. She remonstrated with Joan +one afternoon when she called. + +"I warned you of Motty. He has got hold of you, and will suck your +blood to nourish himself. Don't look shocked! I mean it. He has done it +with other women, and he thinks you very promising material." + +Joan would not listen to her; but in her heart she sometimes longed +that she had never given him her promise to help him. + +And then one day it was all stopped—for the time. + + +"A letter from Cecil," said Joan in the morning, as she poured out a +cup of tea for her father at the breakfast-table. "I have not read it +yet. I hope it is not for more money. She wrote to me only a few days +ago." + +"It is to tell us when they are coming home, perhaps," said Mr. Adair +cheerfully. "I am setting my hopes on having your mother here for +Easter, Joan." + +"But, Father dear, it wants only a fortnight to Easter, and they have +not talked of a move yet." + +"Read her letter and see." + +So Joan in a leisurely way opened the envelope, and the next minute +looked up with startled eyes. + +"Father dear, Mother is not at all well. She has caught a bad chill and +has an attack of pneumonia. Cecil is quite anxious and has called in a +nurse." + +Mr. Adair started to his feet. + +"Let me see what she says. Cecilia ill? I must go to her." + +Joan put the letter into his hand, and gazed out of the window with +troubled eyes. Riviera doctors and nurses meant heavy additional +expenses. How were they to be met, she wondered? And then she took +herself to task for grudging her mother anything. Was she really +seriously ill? Cecil seemed to think so, and Mrs. Adair was not one +to succumb easily. She had always had good health, and made light of +ordinary ailments. But this letter was three days old, surely if she +had been worse, Cecil would have wired? + +As if in answer to her conjecture, she saw a village lad come up the +drive, and recognising him as the postmistress's son, Joan dashed out +into the garden. + +When he produced a yellow envelope, her heart sank. She tore it open. + + "Mother died last night. Come at once.—CECIL." + +She could not believe it. She dismissed the boy and took the telegram +with trembling fingers to her father. She hardly knew how she told him, +but from her face he guessed the worst. And sinking down upon a chair, +he buried his face in his hands. Joan stood by his side white and +immovable. The awful shock of it had stunned her. Presently heartbroken +sobs came from her father. To Joan, who had never in her life seen her +father shed a tear, it was an awful experience. She touched him on the +shoulder. + +"Dad, dear, we must do something. There is no time to lose." + +"Time!" sobbed the rector. "What does time matter now? Everything is at +an end for me." + +The intense pathos of his tone brought the tears with a rush to Joan's +eyes. She let herself weep unrestrainedly for some moments, and Sophia +found them both unable to regain their composure. She herself was +terribly shocked, but said in her practical way: + +"There's Miss Cecil to be thought of." + +Joan dried her tears at once. Her self-control was restored to her. + +"Dad dear, what must be done?" + +The rector lifted his head. + +"I must go to them." + +Even now he could not separate Cecil from her mother. + +"Can I catch the morning train to town?" + +He stood up. Like his daughter, he put his grief aside for the time. + +"I must go at once," he repeated dully. + +"You can catch the twelve-twenty. But what about money?" + +Mr. Adair looked at her rather helplessly. + +"How much shall I want?" + +"You can cash a cheque at the bank before you start. We have twenty +pounds in our current account. Take it all. I suppose I cannot come +with you? I know I can't." + +Joan was now perfectly composed. She packed his things, looked up his +route in the foreign Bradshaw, listened to his directions for supplying +his place on the following Sunday, then went out and ordered the jingle +to be brought round. She drove him to the station, and it was not till +he was actually in the railway carriage that father and daughter had +courage to look into each other's eyes. + +Mr. Adair's composure almost went again. "My darling wife," he +murmured; "oh, Joan, pray that resignation to God will may be given to +me." + +Joan nodded. + +"I can't yet take it in," she said brokenly; "I feel almost stunned, +but I know that God will be with you and comfort you, Father dear." + +The train went out, and Joan drove slowly home, trying to bring her +practical common sense to the surface, but all her heart crying out for +her brilliant, beautiful mother. Perhaps it was fortunate that she had +so much to do and think about. + + +For the next day or two she had not a moment for quiet thought until +she went to bed. She had many anxious fears about her father, who +had never in his life been abroad, and who was apt to be rather +absentminded in travelling. But a wire announcing his safe arrival, on +the second morning after his departure, eased her mind. She had many +notes of condolence and of sympathy, but saw only one of her friends, +and that was Major Armitage. He called one morning and told Sophia he +was going away that day. Joan came down into her father's study to see +him. + +"I felt I must wish you good-bye," he said, "and tell you that you have +my deep sympathy in your loss. I am going over to Ireland to be with +my sister, and have shut up the house for the present, but I shall not +easily forget the warm welcome I have received in this house." + +"Oh," said Joan, looking up at him with misty eyes, "my father and I +will miss you! We have learnt to count upon you as a friend. Will you +never come back to this part again?" + +"I was going to say I hope not," he said gravely; "but I will add, not +to the ill-fated house I inherited. Every room is a torture to me now. +I never told you, Miss Adair, but I expect you guessed. I came down +here to wait patiently for a woman to come to me, and now that is over. +She will never come. And I have been wasting my time in useless dreams. +Now, as you said the other day, my life is going to revolve round +others. It has no centre in itself. And I think my sister needs me +most. Perhaps we may come to England one day, but till then, good-bye." + +He held out his hand. Joan took it, and felt tongue-tied for a moment +or two, then she said softly: + +"Thank you for giving me your confidence. I knew you had been going +through deep waters, but when you say your life has no centre, you do +not mean to leave out the One who is our centre? The One in Whom 'we +move, and have our being.'" + +He looked at her with sombre eyes. + +"I have believed all my life in the Hand behind," he said; "I suppose I +still believe in it." + +He shook hands and went. Joan watched him disappear down the road from +the study window. + +"And so he goes away out of my life," she murmured to herself. "The +only one I have really liked in this part of the world." + +She gave a heavy sigh. Life was inexpressibly sad, and it seemed to her +to get more and more difficult as time slipped by. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +STRUGGLING IN THE NET + +A WEEK later Mr. Adair returned, bringing Cecil with him. The meeting +between the sisters was a very sad one. Cecil for the first time +had been brought face to face with life's greatest reality. All her +gaiety had left her for the time; she looked scared and miserable. +And Mr. Adair seemed ten years older, the stoop in his shoulders was +intensified, and his whole demeanour was listless and dejected. Yet +he gave Joan quite simply every detail of the quiet funeral amongst +the olive trees in the little English cemetery. And with many sobs and +tears Cecil told her of the sudden illness and the last four days. + +"She stayed out too late one evening and caught a chill; but never told +me that she felt much pain until the next day, and then her temperature +went up suddenly, and she hardly knew me again. The only thing she was +anxious about was the book she has been writing. She told me to take it +back to England with me. She seemed to know she would not come herself. +It seems like a nightmare. How shall I live without her?" + +Even in her grief, Cecil thought first of herself; Joan's greatest +sympathy was with her father. She went into his study late that evening +and found him sitting at his writing-table, his head bowed in his +hands. When he looked up at her, his eyes were dim and lifeless. + +"Oh, Joan, my dear, we must comfort each other," he said, as she +impulsively knelt by his side and put her hand lovingly on his +shoulder. "The centre of my being seems to have disappeared. I have +been counting the days to having her back again with us. The coming +summer has only held her to me. I hoped she would love sitting out in +the garden and orchard, and become so fond of it here that she would +never want to leave us again. And I feel I have not been half tender +and sympathetic enough with her. I have kept her short of money, though +God knows I could not help it. It is so strange that she, so beautiful, +so strong, and in the prime of her life, should be taken and I left!" + +"We could not do without you, Father dear," murmured Joan, tears +starting to her eyes in spite of her efforts to keep them back. + +"She always was so much more clever than I was," went on Mr. Adair; +"but I loved to have her so. And your mother was a good woman, Joan. +She never talked much, but she never missed her daily Bible reading, +and I have found her Bible marked and worn from constant reading." + +"Yes," Joan assented softly. + +"So we have the hope of seeing her again," went on Mr. Adair in a more +cheerful tone; "but the blank will never be filled in my heart. Pray +for me to-morrow, Joan. I must preach, and I feel unfit for it." + +"Don't try, Father dear, let Mr. Rushbrooke come over and take the +services for you, as he did when you were away." + +Mr. Adair shook his head, and as he looked at Joan, there was something +in his attitude that made Joan steal away and leave him. + +And the message was given with singular power on the following morning. + +"'For He maketh sore, and bindeth up; He woundeth, and His hands make +whole.'" + +The rector touched very little upon his own trouble, except to say: "I +have been through deep waters, and I want to pass on to you what has +been a comfort and help to myself." + +His people listened with softened hearts; and even Banty went home +saying to herself, "There must be 'something' in Mr. Adair's religion!" + +Cecil would not go to church. She shut herself up in her room and +stayed in bed for most of the day. + + +On Monday, as she did not come down to breakfast, Joan went up to her. +She found her very busy ordering herself mourning from a Bond Street +dressmaker whom her mother had patronised. Joan's little pupils were +waiting for her; so she thought that it was no propitious time for +discussion, and she only tried to persuade her to come down to lunch. + +Cecil allowed herself to be persuaded, and after it was over wandered +into the drawing-room disconsolately. Joan followed her. She felt if +she did not speak now, she never should, and wanted to get it over. + +"What has possessed you to have those noisy spoilt boys here +every morning?" said Cecil crossly. "I hear you teach them in the +dining-room, and Sophia calmly told me the drawing-room fire was never +lighted till after lunch. You complain that I shut myself up in my +bedroom, but where am I supposed to sit?" + +"There's always a fire in Father's study, and he is usually out in +the morning. I want to talk with you about ways and means, Cecil. I +have had to do some teaching. I am most grateful for the money it +brings me. You know we are not yet clear of debt. And Father and I do +dislike it so. I always think a clergyman ought to be extra careful +in money matters. I think I mentioned in my letters that I have been +writing a few simple articles for a magazine. I have a little literary +experience. I want you to let me see mother's book. Don't you think it +would be a good plan for me to look over her notes and see if I could +not finish them, and offer it to some publisher? If it sold, it would +be a tremendous help to Father Just now." + +Cecil did not answer. She seated herself in an easy chair by the fire, +and her brows were furrowed with thought. + +"I can't conceive why Father is always so behind-hand with his bills. +He simply cleared out the small balance we kept in our bank abroad, and +brought me home literally without a penny in my pocket!" + +"I don't think you realise what his income really is. I want to talk to +you about it. You must not order expensive clothes from London, Cecil, +you really must not. We cannot afford it. There is a very good little +dressmaker in Coppleton who will come out and do anything that you +want. Father and I have strained every nerve to pay the many bills for +clothes which have come in; but we can't do more, and I'm sure you will +help us now by trying to be economical." + +"Don't mention the word 'economy' to me," flashed out Cecil +passionately. "I hate the sound of it, and so did darling Mother. It +has been the curse of our lives, and if you think that now she has +gone, you can bully me over clothes you are mistaken. You grudge me +my mourning for her Father has stripped me of every penny I possess. +You are going to try to make me as great a fright as yourself in your +country bumpkin clothes. But you won't do it. I give you fair warning! +Mother's money is as much mine as yours. If she had known, she would +have made a will and left it to me. She meant to do it—I know she did. +And as for taking her book and making money out of it for yourself and +Father, you shall not do it. It is in my keeping and belongs to me!" + +Joan was absolutely dumbfounded by this outburst. Cecil ended it by a +passionate burst of tears. Joan instantly was on her knees beside her, +putting her arms tenderly round her. + +"Oh, Cecil dearest, what cruel things to say! You are miserable, and +so am I. We are both Mother's daughters, we both love her, and are +mourning together for her loss. Don't let us hurt each other by unkind +words and thoughts!" + +"Oh," sobbed Cecil, "you never understood her. You never loved her as I +did. I am left alone. Nobody cares for me!" + +Joan assured her of her affection; she felt as if she were talking to a +passionate, unreasonable child. It was absolutely impossible at present +to convince her of the need of carefulness over money. Joan's one +desire was to gain her love and keep it, so she gradually soothed her +into quietness again, and Cecil went so far as to own that she did not +mean all she said. + +"I feel beside myself with misery," she confessed. "It is an awful, a +terrible thing—death. I can't get over it. Why, only a fortnight ago +Mother was talking and laughing with me, now we have buried her under +tons of earth—glad to get rid of her!" + +She gave a shudder. + +"No, no," protested Joan. "Her self, her spirit is not there, only her +worn-out body." + +"It was not worn-out—that's the—the cruelty of it! Oh, I know that +shocks you. But if I do believe in God, I shall never love Him. He does +such terribly cruel things or allows them to be done." + +"God sees farther than we do, and from the other side," said Joan +firmly and gravely. "He sees both sides. We only see one, so how can we +judge correctly? I wish you had heard Father's sermon yesterday." + +Cecil gave a little snort. + +"Father! Well, he is my father, but nobody can say his sermons are +anything but the simplest platitudes!" + +"Our Lord's words were very simple sometimes," said Joan with flushed +cheeks. "It is heartfelt experience that impresses me, more than any +amount of head knowledge and clever theories." + +Cecil shrugged her shoulders, but relapsed into silence. She had +recovered her temper, and peace was restored, but she quietly went on +her way, and ordered London clothes at very high prices. + +Joan said no more. She felt she could not. She was intensely desirous +of winning Cecil's affection, and she had a tremendous pity for her, as +she knew the loss of the mother who was always so devoted to her and to +her interests would be felt by her very deeply. + +She herself could not adjust her life to her fresh circumstances. She +foresaw trouble in the future, for Cecil was more than ever determined +not to adapt herself to her home environment, and Mr. Adair had said +sadly but quite decidedly to Joan the day after he returned: + +"We must be very patient with poor Cecil, as she must be content to +stay at home now. Her days of going abroad are over. I know our doctor +here thought it quite unnecessary." + + +After a week or two of quiet seclusion, when Cecil tried everyone in +the house by her exacting demands and fretful complaints, life slipped +back into the usual grooves. + +Wilmot Gascoigne had purposely abstained from troubling Joan about +their book, but now he appeared again and made great demands, as +before, on her time and attention. She could not give them to him +in the same way now that Cecil was in the house; and she had been +having great heart searchings with herself about the book since her +mother's death. Joan was conscious that her work with him was not +uplifting. She had often gone to bed in such weariness of body and +such mental confusion that her peace of mind had suffered; she had +become irritably impatient under the daily difficulties and trials, +and she was conscious that her soul was drifting from its sure and +certain anchorage. She had tried to break away from her writing, but +Wilmot, with his insistent pertinacity, had refused to let her go. And +the fascination of creating had taken possession of her. She had been +pleased when she had influenced Wilmot to omit questionable passages +and insert something that was really good. She had thrown a sop to her +conscience by asserting to herself that she was improving the tone of +his writing; but all the time she knew too well that if she did raise +his standard a tiny bit, she lowered her own a great deal. Her mother's +sudden illness and death had brought the unseen world very near to her, +and the realities of life and death impressed her deeply. + +One afternoon Wilmot left her hastily. She had ventured to disagree +with much warmth with him over a vexed question of moral perception, +and she refused to give way or allow herself to be outtalked. + +He gathered up his papers. + +"Very well. I have no time or use for such unprofitable discussion, and +must work on by myself till you come to a reasonable mind." + +Without another word he marched out of the house. Joan watched him go +with hot cheeks and ruffled feelings. Her father was visiting in the +village; Cecil was lying on her bed with a novel. The house was quiet. +Tea was over, and there was a good hour and a half before dinner. Joan +betook herself to the orchard, to a secluded spot under the pink and +white apple blossoms, where she could remain unseen. + +There was a low bench, on which she seated herself. + +"I am caught in a net," she told herself, as, resting her chin in her +hands, she determined to wrestle out things with herself. "I am wasting +my talents and time on gathering straws on a muck heap! Oh, how angry +Mr. Gascoigne would be to hear me say it! If his work is strong and +goes down to posterity, will it be for the real welfare of those who +read it? What will be my share in it? Am I not denying my faith and +creed to please Mr. Gascoigne, and stifling my conscientious scruples? +Am I not aiding and abetting him in his absolutely irreligious views of +life?" + +She covered her face with her hands. A rush of conviction of failure +came over her, and tears crept to her eyes. The sweet spring air, the +twittering of birds getting ready for their nightly rest, the cooing of +wood pigeons in the distance seemed to be purifying and cleansing her +befogged brain. Nature always drew her to Nature's God. + +She had for a long while denied herself time to think, and her quiet +time of thought now showed her where she was wrong. How long she sat +there she did not know; she was deep in thought and prayer when a +well-known voice made her start and rise to her feet. + +"Here's the bad penny again! Good luck to you, Joan, my darlint!" + +It was Derrick, standing within a few feet of her, looking very +handsome and very mischievous. + +He took off his soft felt hat with a flourishing bow. + +"I told you I would be down for Easter. I couldn't get an invite out of +old Jossy, and I knew—" here his face grew grave—"I knew your trouble, +and I have written my sympathy, so I won't repeat it; but I could not +quarter myself upon you in your circumstances; and I was determined to +come, so I've settled myself at the Colleton Arms, where I arrived last +night. Now, then, we're chums, remember; tell me how things are going." + +He sat down on the bench by her side. Joan heaved a sigh, half of +pleasure and relief at seeing him, half of regret and remorse for her +actions in the past. + +"Oh, things are going badly," she said with a smile; "but they never +do go very well with us, you know, only I am, as a rule, loath to +acknowledge it. Don't let us talk of ourselves; tell me of your doings." + +"What are you crying about?" Derrick demanded gravely. "I don't think +I have ever seen you with tear-stained cheeks before. How you used to +rush away, as a small child, and hide yourself till all traces of them +were removed." + +"You have taken me at a disadvantage," said Joan, trying to speak +lightly. "I was really taking myself to task for my own sins and +shortcomings. You mustn't pose as my father confessor, Derrick. Hasn't +it been a lovely day? Shall we come indoors? Cecil will be so pleased +to see you." + +"No, we will stay here. Now, then, start away. Tell me your trouble." + +Joan at first resented his determined tone, then the longing to get +somebody's advice about her literary efforts made her plunge into her +difficulties. She told him that she wanted to earn money, that she had +been doing so before she began to help Wilmot in his book, that his +scheme was taking all her time and strength, and that now she felt it +was even taking her religion from her. + +"I suppose I am tired, but I look upon it as a huge octopus fastening +itself upon me and draining me of all that is best in life. It +fascinates me when I am at work, but I want to break away from it, and +I can't. I hoped it would not be such a long business, but, of course, +a big book can't be written in a couple of months or so, and we have +not been at it much longer than that. And I am really longing to put +Mother's notes in order and bring out her book. She has done about half +of it, and I am persuading Cecil to let me undertake it. I feel I can +do it, and I shall love to do it. It is so pure, so—so cultured and +interesting." + +"And what is Motty going to pay you for helping him?" + +Joan coloured. + +"Oh, there has never been any question of payment. I suppose when the +book is published, he will let me have some share in it." + +"If you haven't had an agreement in black and white, Motty won't give +you one penny! I know him. And I question whether it will ever get into +print. Motty is no good as a novelist. He is too heavy and dogmatical, +and hasn't any sense of humour. You have been wasting your goods, my +dear Joan. Don't look so downhearted. I'll get you out of his clutches. +Fancy stopping off your own compositions when you can get them placed +in a good magazine! It's high time I came down here to look after you, +but I warned you against that chap, now didn't I?" + +Joan tried to laugh. + +"You talk like an old grandfather! I can't give you leave to +interfere between Mr. Gascoigne and myself. I must get out of my own +difficulties, but I am glad of your counsel." + +There was a little silence. Derrick was scanning her from head to foot. +Joan always felt that he had a possessive way of talking to her, and +she did not want to encourage it. + +"You are worried and thin, and Motty ought to be horsewhipped. He has +taken advantage of your sweet good nature to benefit himself, and he +does not intend that you shall have any reward for so doing." + +"Don't let us talk any more about it," said Joan, sitting up briskly. +"Tell me about your political doings. I love to have a good talk with +anyone who is in the know in politics." + +Derrick complied with her request. He could be very patient as well as +very pertinacious when he liked, and he had registered a vow in his +heart that Wilmot should hear his views very soon on the subject of his +novel. + +He and Joan sat on till dusk enveloped them, and then Joan took him +into the house. Cecil came out of the drawing-room to greet them. + +"I couldn't think where you had gone," she said to Joan, extending her +hand to Derrick. + +She looked very fragile and graceful in her long, trailing, thin, black +gown. + +"It's good to see you, Derrick," she went on; "but I would welcome any +village lout, I do believe! I am so sick of my own society." + +"Why don't you take brisk constitutionals this fine weather?" demanded +Derrick. "Women have no sense. You and Banty go to extremes; she is +never indoors, you are never out. One is just as bad as the other." + +"Oh, don't preach! Joan is given to that. What are you doing down here?" + +Derrick laughed in his open, happy way. + +"I've just come down for an Easter rest. Have clapped my papers and +pens together, and fastened them down under lock and key, and I'm out +for a spree. I'm going to make things hum for you here, and also make +it hot—oh, very hot—for a gentleman of my acquaintance. Yes, Miss +Joan, I am. Now, sweet Malingerer, you and I must plan out some Easter +dissipation. What shall it be?" + +He seized hold of Cecil by the arm and marched her back into the +drawing-room. Joan smiled as she watched them settle themselves into +two very comfortable chairs. She was quite content that Cecil should +enjoy his stimulating society for a little time, and she went to tell +her father of his arrival, and then out into the kitchen to consult +with Sophia about the dinner, for she knew that Derrick would stay for +the rest of the evening. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DERRICK TO THE RESCUE + +EASTER, on the top of their trouble, was a trying time to the Adairs, +but Derrick helped them very much by his sunshiny optimism. Joan's +creases smoothed out of her brows; she gave herself up to the enjoyment +of his society. Cecil grew more cheerful and less exacting, and though, +of course, they were very quiet owing to their deep mourning, he +insisted on hiring a motor from the neighbouring town and taking them +out for long days in the sweet spring sunshine. + +Wilmot went away to friends for Easter. He had been down to the rectory +once, but had found everyone out, and Joan felt that he was deeply +annoyed by their last interview. + +The Gascoignes had a house party, but though Derrick dined with them +twice, he was quite content to spend most of his time at the rectory. + +"It is home in a double sense to me," he confided to Cecil. "This house +was my boyhood's home, and now you are all in it, I feel quite a member +of your family." + +He chaffed and laughed with her a good deal, but it was to Joan that +he showed the tender protectiveness of his nature; and she was so +unaccustomed to be shielded and waited upon that she hardly knew how to +take it. Her small pupils went away with their mother to the sea for +their holidays, so her time was much more her own. + +One morning Derrick came in early and asked her to come for a long walk +with him. + +"Let us take some lunch with us, and then we need not hurry back." + +Joan's eyes danced, then she shook her head. + +"Don't tempt me. I had determined to mend some of the Sunday school +library books this morning, and Sophia is at this moment making some +paste for me. What a pity Cecil does not care for walking! You could +take her if she did. It would do her such a lot of good." + +"I don't want Cecil, I want you; and the school books can wait. Now +hurry up! I will give you half an hour to get ready. I shall go and get +Dominie to support me if you are still obdurate." + +There was no gainsaying him. Cecil was still in her bedroom; she rarely +came down before lunch, and always breakfasted in continental fashion +by herself. Joan told her that she might be out to luncheon, then she +went out to the kitchen, and Sophia and she soon packed a small basket +of food. In a very short time she was stepping across the heath with +a light heart, and Derrick was well satisfied with the success of his +move. + +"Motty is back again," he informed her. "I met Banty in the village +this morning. She's like a fish out of water when the hunting's +over—asked me to come up this evening to dinner, so I'm going. I mean +to have it out with Motty." + +"Now look here, Derrick, you must promise me not to discuss our book. +It is our private business, and nobody else's. We don't want it to be +made public property." + +"My dear child, everyone at the Hall knows about it. Old Jossy told me +Motty was down at the rectory every night of his life, and it seems he +taxed him with trying to win your affections. Jossy is never delicate +in his speeches. Then Motty told him all about it. Banty considers he +is doing you! She and I know him for a fraud! You haven't altered your +mind about bringing it to an end, have you?" + +"I would prefer to settle it myself with him." + +"You're afraid I shall be nasty." + +"Perhaps I am," said Joan, laughing. "Mr. Gascoigne has been very kind +to me. I think the fact is that two people cannot write a book together +unless they are absolutely of the same mind about certain things. At +first I was diffident and inexperienced. I wrote as he wished; but now +I find my principles are involved, and I will not sacrifice them to the +public taste or demands. I do not think I should ever be a successful +novelist. I am out of my element In tragedy and sensation." + +"You keep to your nature studies," said Derrick; "they are first-rate. +Now let us change the subject. Now that the Malingerer has come +home—and I hope she has come back to stay—you will be able to leave, +will you not? I want you to come up to town. You have met my cousin, +Mrs. Denby; she will be delighted to take you about, and I'll get you +into the House to hear some of the debates. Can't you manage to come +back with me when my holiday is up?" + +"Oh, Derrick, you are too absurd!" said Joan, laughing gaily. "I shall +never be able to leave home. And as to a visit to town, I shall be as +likely to go up there as to Timbuctoo! No; my place is here, and here I +shall stay. It's waste of words to suggest anything else." + +Derrick was silent for a short time; he put back what he was longing +to say, for he did not want to spoil their day out. They tramped over +the dead heather and bracken, and his natural good spirits asserted +themselves. He and Joan were like a boy and girl together, and when +they sat down on the top of a heather-covered hill and looked over +a vast extent of fresh green country with purple distances, Joan +exclaimed: + +"I haven't a care in the world at this moment! Isn't it funny how one's +senses minister to one's soul? My mouth and eyes and nose are enjoying +this to distraction, so my soul follows suit. Did you ever smell such +fragrant, delicious air? I want to inhale it as much as I can. I want +to bottle it up and take it back with me. And isn't that stretch of +country in front of us a sight for sore eyes? Did you ever see such +pure, deep blue hills?" + +"Don't you understand the tramps' and the gipsies' hatred of towns? I +say, Joan, when the summer comes shall we do a tramp together? We might +go down to Hampshire and start on the edge of the New Forest." + +"There is a Mrs. Grundy still," said Joan. + +"I thought she was dead long ago. There's safety in numbers. I could +get another fellow to join us, and Banty might come. You could chaperon +her, or she could chaperon you. She's improving. This time I've quite +liked her, and she worships you. I'm all for getting you out of your +rut now that the Malingerer is at home." + +"It's no good planning such things," said Joan with a laughing shake +of her head. "They make my mouth water, but you and I know they are +impossible. I am not to be moved out of my rut. I am going to settle +into it very snugly; I shall end by liking ruts. Now shall we attack +our lunch? I am voraciously hungry!" + +It was when their walk was nearly over that Derrick spoke his mind: + +"Joan, do you realise that I'm still waiting for you?" + +Joan looked at him reproachfully. + +"Oh, Derrick, I hoped you were growing wiser." + +"Don't talk like a grandmother. There's only one woman filling my +heart. I've been waiting all my life for you, and you know it. I want +to settle down like other men. This is my side of it. But I also want +to have a right to take care of you, to give you pleasure, to put you +in a better atmosphere than you have at present. You would do us a lot +of good if you came to town. We get so cynical and worldly, and grub so +for money and position and power that you'd act as a splendid check, +and also as an exhilarating tonic." + +Then, seeing Joan's eyes twinkle, he added hastily: "I only say this +because you're so strong on influence and that sort of thing. And +you're wasted here. But, of course, the real truth is I want you. I'm +your devoted slave now as I always have been; but I'm getting tired of +waiting. Oh, Joan, do listen! Give yourself right away to me now and +for ever. Let us walk the world together, oblivious of anyone else. +Won't you take me on trial?" + +"How? One can't marry on trial, and, Derrick, dear, I hate to say +it, but I couldn't risk it. You're a faithful chum and a staunch +comrade—I'm always happy with you—but—and I think this is a test of +love—I would not be as happy if we were in closer relationship. I never +want to get nearer to you. Do you understand? Our present friendship +satisfies me completely. I do see this is selfishness on my part. You +deserve to receive more, and this is the reason I did not want you to +come down this Easter. I want you to forget me, and learn to care for +some nice girl who will be as much in love with you as you are with +her. I believe real love is the only foundation for a happy married +life. And you are too good to waste your best on one who never can +return it. You think I do not know my own mind, but I do; and I wish +you would let this talk between us be the final one on this subject. I +shall never alter. I always have looked upon you as a brother, and I +always shall." + +The earnestness and force with which she spoke crushed Derrick's +budding hopes. He was absolutely silent, fighting down his deep +disappointment, and Joan felt almost as miserable as he did. She hated +to have hurt him, and yet she felt it was necessary. He walked up to +the rectory gate with her, then held out his hand. + +"I'll try to get over it," he said huskily. "I'm at last convinced that +it's no good to hope any longer." + +Joan looked rather wistfully at him. + +"Do you want my friendship still," she asked him, "or do you feel it +must be all or nothing?" + +"I don't know what I feel at present. A crushed, battered piece of +pulp, I think. I suppose I had better get back to town to-morrow. I did +promise Dominie to drive him into Coppleton, but I'll send him a line." + +Joan said nothing. She gripped his hand and smiled at him, but her eyes +were misty, and she fled into the house. It was a comfort to her to get +inside her bedroom and relieve her feelings by a flood of tears. + +"I shall lose the only friend I have," she thought, "and I have brought +wretchedness instead of happiness into his life." + +She had not been in her bedroom for half an hour before Cecil came to +the door asking for admission. After a little hesitation, Joan let her +in, and Cecil was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice anything +the matter with her sister. + +She seated herself in Joan's low chair by the window. + +"Wilmot Gascoigne has been here most of the afternoon," she announced. +"He said he could not stay to tea. I don't think there is much love +lost between him and Derrick. Why hasn't Derrick come in? I thought he +would be sure to have tea with us." + +[Illustration: JOAN WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT AND PRAYER WHEN A + WELL-KNOWN VOICE MADE HER START.] + +"He did not think of it, nor more did I. Did Mr. Gascoigne want to see +me?" + +"At first he did. But we got into very interesting talk. He knows +the Riviera so well that we had a lot in common. I like him. It's an +education to hear him talk. And I have given over Mother's book to him. +I feel he is the right person to undertake it. It is very good of him +to do it. He looked through a lot of it and liked it immensely." + +"Oh, Cecil, how could you?" + +Joan's bitter, passionate cry escaped her unawares. It had been her +great hope to do it herself. She felt that she could do it, and Cecil +had almost agreed that she should. + +"I don't think you should have done such a thing without asking +Father's advice, or—or mine." + +Cecil tossed her head. + +"My dear Joan, what does Father know about such things? And do you +think for a moment that you could do it better than a clever literary +man who knows the country in which it has been written? Why, you have +never been abroad. Your experience is as narrow as Father's. I consider +we are very lucky in having such a friend to take it off our hands." + +"I don't think you know Mr. Gascoigne as well as I do, Cecil. I am +very, very sorry you have given it to him. To begin with, he has too +many irons in the fire already. He has not finished the Gascoigne +book yet; and we really do want Mother's book to be taken in hand and +finished. I am bitterly disappointed that you have done such a thing." + +"I suppose you thought you could have made a name for yourself over +it," said Cecil; "but I haven't confidence in you. Because you have +been successful with a short magazine article, it does not follow that +you could compile and edit a book like Mother's. I am ambitious for her +sake. I don't want it to be a failure." + +"Well," said Joan, struggling to speak gently, "it is done now, so +there is no use in talking about it. We must hope he will do it well. +Did you arrange anything with him about the profits from it?" + +"Of course not. There is time for that when the book has been finished +and accepted by some publisher." + +Joan did not speak. + +Cecil got up from her chair. + +"I thought you would like to hear about it," she said airily. "Are you +coming down to tea? It is ready." + +"Yes. Don't wait for me." + +Joan felt desperately that she must have a little quiet to digest this +heavy blow. + +When Cecil had left her, she pushed open her window and knelt by it. + +The fresh spring air, the scent of the violets and sweet brier hedge +below rose to greet her. + +Her whole spirit resented Cecil's summary proceeding. She knew now +from experience that Wilmot Gascoigne was not wholly to her liking +as a writer. She had waged war with him more than once over certain +passages descriptive of Nature's beauty. He belittled and scoffed at +the recognition of a Divine hand in it, and she could not bear to think +that her mother's book should be placed in his hands to be cut up and +revised as he judged fit. And she felt that she had it in her to bring +out all the best in that book. She also had fears now that Wilmot would +not make a profitable sum out of it, and this was a very important +matter to them all. + +"Why do things go so crooked?" she sighed to herself. + +But when she rose from her knees, she was able to go downstairs with a +serene face, and, if her laugh was not quite so frequent or her smiles +so bright, there was nothing in her demeanour to show vexation or +resentment. + +When Mr. Adair heard about it, he looked annoyed. + +"You should have asked me first, Cecil," he said. "You had no right to +give your mother's book to a stranger." + +"Mother gave me her book," said Cecil, with a wilful curve to her lips. +"I am not a fool, and I have full confidence in Motty, as they call +him." + +Joan wondered if she should hear any more of the book she and he were +writing together. She hoped that Derrick would not interfere too much +about it, and consoled herself by thinking that he would be too full +of his own feelings to approach the subject that night, as he had +threatened to do. + +It was of no use to argue with Cecil about the wisdom of her impulsive +action, and Joan appeased her father by saying that Wilmot was +certainly very clever, and was in touch with several of the leading +publishers of the day. + + +The next morning, her small pupils being still away, Joan betook +herself to the garden. There was always a great deal more to do there +than the odd man could possibly get through. She was very busy weeding +a patch of ground, when a voice close to her startled her. + +"I can't keep away, you see, even after our talk yesterday; but I want +to tell you about my interview with Motty." + +Of course, it was Derrick. Joan greeted him quite cheerfully. + +"Tell me," she said; "but don't expect me to stop weeding. I can do +that and listen too." + +"It won't hurt you to rest for a bit. Here, sit on this old hen-coop. +Now, then, where shall I begin? I nearly went for him at the +dinner-table last night. What a conceited ass he is! But I bided my +time, and old Jossy helped me, for he actually left us alone in the +smoking-room together to enjoy a brand of his best cigars." + +"Derrick, I asked you not to interfere." + +"I had to take my thoughts off the gnawing ache in my heart. Isn't that +the phrase they use in books? And I was longing to pitch into someone. +I was in the right mood for it, and he was the right man for me. What +on earth has the Malingerer been doing? We were at cross purposes at +first, for he thought I had come to take away your mother's MS. from +him. He is very keen on that now, and means to run the Malingerer for a +bit. It seems she and he are going to do it together." + +Joan almost laughed, though she felt sore at heart. "Why, Cecil is too +restless to stay at her writing-desk for more than half an hour at a +time." + +"Just so. Well, he thinks, of course, you have treated him badly and +have left him in the lurch. So that gave me my innings, and I told him +what I thought about him. Oh, yes, I did; and if we were in France, +I suppose there would have been an early morning duel to-day. He is +coming down to have a personal interview with you; but I rather think +he will back out of that, and write instead. We went at each other like +hammer and tongs. How I wish you and Cecil would keep clear of him." + +Joan looked distressed. Derrick was unusually grave. + +"I wish you could talk to Cecil about it; but I am afraid she has +already committed herself; and we do not want to quarrel with Mr. +Gascoigne, Derrick. He has been very kind and good." + +Derrick shrugged his broad shoulders. + +"I'll go straight in and have it out with the Malingerer. I had better +see where she stands. I know you think me an interfering fool, but +women are so helpless in the clutches of a man like Motty; and you've +no brother." + +He was off. Joan went on with her weeding with a distracted mind. Half +an hour later Derrick came back to her. + +"I've done no good," he confessed ruefully. "The Malingerer is +infatuated with him, as you were; but I'll keep an eye on him, and if +he gets the book ready for publication, I'll have my say as to the +publisher and the price. I know a man in town who will look after it +for me." + +He did not stay, for he told Joan he was going up to town by the twelve +o'clock express. They took farewell of each other very quietly. + +Late that afternoon Wilmot made his appearance and asked to see Joan. +She went into the drawing-room with a beating heart, but he was +perfectly courteous. + +"I want to talk to you about our book. Did you think I had forsaken +you for good and all? The fact is I called directly I came back from +town, which was only yesterday. You were not in, and your sister, as +you know, begged me to undertake the compiling and editing of your +mother's notes on the Riviera. I suppose you were vexed that I had +undertaken a fresh book without first finishing the other; but, as I +told you before, I can work best when I have two or three books going. +They supply a vent for my every mood and serve to quicken my faculties. +I had no intention of stopping my work with you. You can picture my +astonishment when Colleton attacked me like a fury. I won't tell you +all he said. It was unrepeatable! I could only imagine he had found +you hurt and indignant, and inclined to say hastily that you would +have nothing more to do with me. His passion was too impotent and +childish to touch me in the least. I could only think he had made a +little too free with my cousin's old port. He seems to regard himself +as your protector and guide, but I hardly think he was speaking with +your consent upon matters which were strictly confidential between +ourselves." + +Joan's cheeks were hot, yet she spoke with her natural sweet dignity. + +"Derrick is like a brother to us. I am sorry there was any friction +between you. It was wrong of him. Of course, I did not wish him to +attack you in such a way. I am very glad you have come round, because +I was going to write to you, and it is so much easier to talk than +to write. You must disabuse your mind of the idea that I was hurt or +indignant with you. Why should I be? Frankly, as I have often told you +lately, I don't feel I can help you in this joint book of ours, and I +do want to get out of it." + +"But this is a very serious thing! If you had not been such a friend, +I should have drawn up an agreement, and got you to sign it. You could +not have then withdrawn without giving me some compensation for doing +so." + +He looked straight at her as he spoke and snapped his lips together in +an ill-tempered way. + +"Don't you see," he went on, "that, unless I am able to finish that +book single-handed, you have made me waste my strength and mind and +time on a task that you make useless?" + +"But I am sure you will be able to finish it yourself," said Joan, +eagerly seizing upon the loophole he gave her of extricating herself +from his toils. "I am a drag on you; I feel that I am. We are not +suited to work together. I pull you back, and you fetter me. And I want +you to release me. I cannot hold to my principles and write as you +wish. If you desire compensation, I will try and meet you, but it is +impossible to go on writing with you." + +"Very well," said Wilmot very stiffly, "we will say no more. I was +mistaken in my estimate of your powers and in your adaptability to +my methods. I cannot force you to continue working with me. Only, +it is a pity that you did not know your own mind—or, shall I say, +principles?—when we first started. I hope your sister will not treat me +in the same way over this MS. of your mother's. Have you any objection +to offer on that score?" + +Joan was so overwhelmed with his reproaches that she could say nothing +for a moment. + +"My sister gave it to you without consulting me," she said quietly. + +"Which means that you would have prevented her doing it if you could?" + +Joan hesitated. + +He gave a little bitter laugh. + +"It is a case of being wounded in the house of one's friends," he said. +"I wonder what I have done to turn you so against me? I suppose I have +to thank Colleton for it. He is madly jealous of anyone poaching on his +preserves." + +"That is quite unjust and untrue," said Joan warmly. "I had better be +entirely frank with you. I was looking forward to editing my mother's +book myself. It would have been a keen pleasure to me to do so, and I +was naturally disappointed when Cecil told me that she had given it to +you. It is nothing personal against you; I am simply disappointed, that +is all. I know you have more experience of the scenes in which the book +is laid, and I am sure Cecil is much happier in the thought of your +undertaking it than if I were to do it." + +"You place me in a very unpleasant position. I think I had better see +your sister, and suggest that I should hand it back again to you. +I really have such a lot of literary work in hand that I shall be +relieved than otherwise. It is a thankless task—editing other people's +books." + +Deep annoyance underlay his words. Joan began to apologise and protest. +He stopped her abruptly and asked her if he could see Cecil. + +Joan went to find her. She felt miserable, and knew that nothing would +make Cecil take back the MS. Hastily she explained the situation to her +sister, who was lying on the couch in her bedroom reading. + +"Wilmot Gascoigne here! Why was I not told? Came to see you? What +about?" + +Then, when explanation had been given, she hastily left the room. + +"I never shall forgive you, Joan, if you have tried to force him not to +undertake it. He must do it, and he shall." + +Joan left her to talk to him. She wandered out into the garden. + +"Oh, how I love peace! And how I bungle and stir up strife! Everything +seems going wrong. I wish—I wish I had never tried to write." + +She began to tie up some straggling rose branches. She felt she did not +want to meet Wilmot again, and yet was too proud to keep out of his +way. She knew he must pass her as he went home. He was not very long in +coming. To her surprise, he stopped when he reached her and held out +his hand with one of his transforming smiles. + +"Be friends with me," he said. "Your sister won't hear of my returning +the MS., and she says her mother gave it into her hands to do as she +thought best with. I promise you that I will give my most careful +attention to it. And you will be able to reap laurels on your own +account. If I have spoken unkindly this afternoon, forgive me; but I +was hurt and sorely—bitterly disappointed in your casting me off and +refusing to work with me any more. I must come down very often and +consult your sister about this book. She knows your mother's mind, and +can supply many blanks in her notes. How can I do this if I feel you +are unfriendly towards me?" + +"Indeed I am not that," poor Joan protested. "I am very grateful to you +for all the help you have given me. I want to be one of your friends +still." + +"Then we will shake hands upon it and wipe our slate clean," he said +almost gaily. + +Joan shook hands with him, but watched his quick steps down the drive +with a heavy heart. Certainly, Cecil was bringing discord into their +hitherto peaceful life, yet she wondered if the fault was in herself. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +JOAN'S ILLNESS + +WHEN the holidays were over, and her pupils came back to her, Joan grew +happier. Her life was too busy to allow her much time for brooding. She +found more and more to interest her in the parish, and began to have a +real liking for those she visited. She always made a point of absenting +herself from the house after tea, for Wilmot was incessantly there +and shut up in the drawing-room with Cecil. Sometimes she felt amused +at the quick ending to her own intercourse with him, and the easy way +in which he had transferred his society to Cecil. If she met him, she +always said a pleasant word to him. In a way she was thankful for the +interest and occupation brought into Cecil's life, who looked forward +eagerly to Wilmot's visits, and, if irritable and exacting the rest of +the day, was always her gay sweet self when with him. + +Sophia shook her head over the visits. + +"'Twas well enough with you, Miss Joan, my dear. You meant business, +you did; and if you'd worked all day and night with him I wouldn't have +had a tremor, but I've eyes in my head, and I've been into the room at +times on messages, and Miss Cecil she doesn't mean business—she means +amusement! And if she plays with fire, she'll get burnt. There's too +many smiles, and arch looks, and playful ways, and honeyed words to +please me. It's my belief 'tis just flirtation over the inkpot, there! +'Tis plain words, but just the truth." + +"Oh, Sophia, you're a foolish old dear, but you don't understand," Joan +would say. + +"Don't I? I know Mr. Gascoigne has a level head and a still heart, but +Miss Cecil haven't, and she'll be the one to suffer." + +Joan felt a little uneasy, but could not do anything. She knew if she +warned Cecil in any way, she would only make matters worse. + +And then an epidemic of a bad type of influenza swept through the +village, and Joan herself became one of the victims. + +She kept up as long as she could, but at last went to bed, and stayed +there for nearly three weeks. When she got up again, she felt very weak +and depressed. + +Cecil had not helped much during her illness. She was so afraid of +being infected with it herself that she had spent most of her days +out of doors, only returning to the house to sleep. It was beautiful +weather, too dry to be healthy, for rain had not fallen for over a +month. Cecil would take her books and luncheon to the pine woods, and +there Wilmot would often meet her, with his roll of MS. under his arm. + +Naturally, when Joan came downstairs again, she found a great many +things demanding her attention, and she had little strength to give to +them. Her father, like a man, did not realise her weakness, and was so +glad to get her help again in parish matters that he spared her little +and made greater demands than she had the strength to fulfil. But she +made every effort to please him. + +One afternoon Sophia came into the dining-room and found Joan literally +sobbing over some parish club accounts. She tried to laugh when she met +Sophia's concerned gaze. + +"I'm such a fool! I think I must have left half my brains in my bed. I +can't add the least sum, and poor Father is hopeless with accounts. The +books are so muddled that I can't make head or tail of them. I've been +a whole hour over them, and the figures are now swimming in a thick +haze before my eyes." + +Sophia swept the books up with her arm, and carried them off. + +"If you look at them again to-day, I'll put you straight to bed, Miss +Joan, and keep you there. You come into the drawing-room and lie down +for an hour. You're as weak as a baby." + +"I can't do it, Sophia. I have the schoolmistress coming to see me +about some school difficulty. Here she is, coming up the drive." + +Sophia snorted, then went out to the kitchen and seized hold of pen and +ink. + +"Jenny," she said sharply, as that young person came past her, "you +go out of this kitchen, and don't come into it for half an hour. I've +business to do which will take all the head I possess, and I won't be +scatterbrained by you fussing round!" + +In half an hour's time a letter was written, and then Jenny was sent +to the post office with it. It was addressed to "The Lady Alicia +Fairchild." + + +Three days after, Mr. Adair received a wire: + + "Can you put me up for a few days?—ALICIA." + +He was rather perturbed at first. + +"I suppose we must say 'Yes,' my dear? I was hoping to get a little +more of your time and attention now that you are well again. It has +been a strain whilst you have been laid aside. Cecil seems as if she +cannot give any help, and there are so many things that have got out of +gear. But, of course, we cannot refuse to have Lady Alicia, and it will +be only for a few days." + +Joan felt rather pleased. There was a triumphant gleam in Sophia's eyes +when she was told that the spare room must be got ready. And Cecil +acknowledged that a visitor would be very acceptable. + +Joan dragged herself about the house, feeling everything an effort, +but determined to have all as dainty and fresh as possible for her +godmother. + +Banty happened to call upon her the afternoon when Lady Alicia was +expected, and exclaimed at Joan's white face and tired eyes: + +"What have you been doing to yourself? You ought to be in bed! You +aren't fit to be up!" + +Joan's eyes filled with tears. Then she laughed. "I cry like a baby +at nothing," she said, meeting Banty's surprised gaze. "The 'flu' has +knocked me all to pieces. I feel quite aged. But I suppose I shall get +all right in time." + +"You never will, if you slave away like this. What are you doing? +Flowers? Why doesn't Cecil do them? There's nothing more tiring. I +never touch them at home." + +When Banty took her leave, she said bluntly to Cecil, who walked to the +gate with her: + +"You should make your sister rest, and run the show yourself for a bit. +She's knocked all to pieces—couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her. +Are you like me—no good in the house at all?" + +"Joan is a difficult person to manage," said Cecil sharply. "She will +fuss about, doing everything herself, and will allow nobody to help +her." + +"I'd pack her back to bed and lock the door," said Banty, as she walked +off; but Cecil did not take the hint. + +When Lady Alicia eventually arrived she was met, as usual, at the +station by Joan, whose white, strained face moved her to instant pity; +but she said nothing to her about herself. When she was having a cup +of tea in the drawing-room, Lady Alicia noted that Joan's hand visibly +trembled when she lifted the teapot, and that she had a way of passing +her hand over her eyes when anyone spoke to her. When Cecil dropped a +teaspoon, she started with a little cry. + +In a few minutes, Jenny appeared at the door. "If you please, miss, the +master wants to know if you've found the key of the poor-box?" + +Joan got up at once. Turning to Lady Alicia, she said, with a laugh: + +"I do believe that whilst I was ill, Father lost every key he ever +possessed, as well as making hay of all the parish accounts and +registers. We haven't reached our normal state yet." + +She left her tea untasted. Lady Alicia turned to Cecil at once when +Joan had left the room. + +"Cecil, dear, do you know why I came down? I see I was right to come." + +"To see Joan, I suppose. I know you wouldn't come so far to see me." + +"To take her away with me for a rest and change. Don't you realise that +she is badly needing it?" + +Cecil's laughing face grew grave. + +"Father pesters her so! He seems as if he is perfectly lost without +her. She will never leave him." + +"You must help her to do so by promising to take her place." + +"I couldn't. It would be an impossibility. I am not cut out for parish +work. I hate the lower orders, and they, of course, know it, and hate +me back!" + +"Well, many of us have to do things we dislike, and you are going to +prove your courage by doing it, too." + +Lady Alicia laid a gentle hand on her arm. + +"My dear child, you must, unless you want Joan to have a serious +relapse. Don't pretend to be more selfish than you really are." + +"Father won't hear of Joan's leaving. He can't even let her have her +tea in peace. Here they come, together. By their faces I should say the +key is found." + +Mr. Adair came in beaming. + +"Found in the lining of my hat," he said. "Joan remembered that I have +a trick of putting things there. Now I can enjoy my tea." + +"Joan's tea is quite cold," said Cecil severely. + +But Mr. Adair could never take a hint. He was quite unaware that he was +inconsiderate in his continual demands for Joan's help. + +Joan sat down at the tea tray again and gave her father his tea, then +leant back in her chair and listened to the conversation with an absent +air, forgetting to take her own. + +[Illustration: JOAN HEARD A CHILD'S SHRILL CRY FOR HELP, AND LOOKING +OUT UPON A ROCK CLOSE To THE SEA, SHE SAW A SMALL FIGURE WAVING A +HANDKERCHIEF.] + +"I am on my way to Ireland," said Lady Alicia. "I dare say you may +remember that I have an old house there, which for the last ten years +has been let to a retired colonel and his wife. They have become +alarmed at the prospect in front of them, for she has delicate health, +and gave me notice to leave last quarter. They have actually left now, +and I have an empty house on my hands. I am afraid, in the unsettled +state of poor Ireland, that tenants will not be forthcoming, so I must +go up there and see what I had better do about it. People tell me it +may be needed as a hospital or convalescent home, but I pray that even +yet some settlement may be arrived at to prevent the awful cloud of war +coming down upon our unhappy land." + +"I never knew you had Irish property," said Mr. Adair. "Unless you live +there yourself, you will, as you say, have no chance of letting it in +these days." + +"No; it is in Ulster, and that fact alone, all agents tell me, is +enough to keep people away from it." + +"Are you going to the choir practice to-night, Joan?" asked Mr. Adair. + +Joan started. She swallowed down her cold cup of tea. + +"I suppose I must. I had forgotten it." + +"Can't you let it slip to-night?" pleaded Lady Alicia. "You are not fit +to do it, Joan dear. Do you know, Mr. Adair, I find Joan looking very +ill?" + +"She has been very poorly," said Mr. Adair, quite cheerfully, "but she +is well again now, thank God." + +Cecil laughed. + +"Oh, Father, Lady Alicia will not think much of your powers of +observation! Now, Joan, you sit still for once in your life, and I will +step across to the church and dismiss those choir boys." + +She sauntered out of the room. After rather a feeble protest, Joan +remained in her seat. + +"I do feel frightfully lazy," she said, "and perhaps it will not matter +missing a practice for once." + +Mr. Adair put on his spectacles and looked across at Joan with a +puzzled air. + +"Joan, dear," said Lady Alicia, "could you let me speak to your father +alone for a few minutes?" + +Joan looked surprised, but immediately left the room. She went upstairs +to see if Lady Alicia's luggage had been carried to her room. + +She found Sophia there unstrapping the boxes, and when Joan said that +that was Jenny's work, the old servant shook her head. + +"I'm waiting to see her ladyship, Miss Joan." + +"How fond you are of her!" + +"She is my only hope," said Sophia, "for she's a sensible woman, and +never lets the grass grow under her feet." + +Joan sat down in the easy chair. + +"Oh, Sophia, I wish I did not feel so tired. What is the matter with +me, I wonder?" + +"The matter! Have you given yourself a chance? Haven't you just left +your bed to run up and down everywhere, after everybody and everything? +You're just tempting Providence—that's what you're doing." + +Joan did not answer. + +Sophia was down on her knees, unpacking now. It was not very long +before they heard the drawing-room door open, and in a moment or two +Lady Alicia was in the room. She held out her hand to Sophia. + +"It is all settled," she said. "Miss Joan is coming over to Ireland +with me next Tuesday, and I shall keep her there till she is her bonny +self again!" + +Sophia's face glowed with pleasure, but Joan protested in amazement. + +"How can I leave home! It's impossible!" + +"It's perfectly easy. Your father has consented to part with you, and +it will be Cecil's opportunity to prove her abilities." + +Joan could hardly believe her ears. The prospect of a change and a +holiday with her beloved godmother almost overwhelmed her. She still +would not believe that it could be realised. + +"Cecil will never take my place," she said. "Father will get miserable +and ill, and the whole parish go to pieces." + +"Perhaps you over-estimate your powers," said Lady Alicia dryly. + +Joan flushed crimson. + +"Oh, ask Sophia what it was like when I was ill. She said she could +never go through it again!" Sophia looked a little abashed. + +"I may have spoken rash, Miss Joan, but I'm willing to do it again, for +if I don't, you'll just sink into your grave. I want to see your face +smile and hear you singing as you go about. It's been a dreary time +of late. Her ladyship has my full sanction, as she knows, to take you +away, and glad I'll be to see you go!" + +With that, Sophia stumped out of the room; and, looking up at Lady +Alicia, Joan cried, between tears and smiles: + +"I believe it is a plot between you." + +"It is, my dear. Sophia wrote to me asking me to come and look after +you. Now, Joan, you must help me by making it easy for them to spare +you. Your father is willing; that is the one thing that matters. I am +going to have a long talk with Cecil to-night. I think she will rise to +the occasion." + +At mention of Cecil's name, Joan's face clouded. + +"I am afraid I cannot, ought not to leave her. You know what she is, +Lady Alicia. So difficult to influence and restrain. Yesterday I +heard some unpleasant gossip in the village about her. She and Wilmot +Gascoigne are going to publish my mother's book. I wrote to you about +it, did I not? They spend hours together in the woods over it—Cecil +never does conform to convention—and the village will have it that they +are 'courting,' to use their own expression. Don't you see that if I go +away, matters may get worse? There will be nobody to look after Cecil; +she does want looking after. Mother shielded her and lived for her; she +is quite unaccustomed to stand alone. And if she wants to do a thing, +she will do it, regardless of appearances or consequences." + +"My dear child, your absence will prove her salvation. She will be kept +too busy in house and village to have the time for long rambles with +this young man. Is he not the one with whom you were going to write a +book?" + +"Yes—oh, I have so much to tell you, and so much to talk about!" + +Lady Alicia noted again the weary gesture of the hand across the eyes. + +"We shall have plenty of time for talk by and by. It will all keep for +the present." + +"I can't believe I shall go with you. I haven't thanked you yet. It +seems too like a dream to be true. I wonder if it will be possible for +me to leave?" + +"I can tell you, my dear, that I do not intend to leave this house +without you." + +"But my pupils! Oh, dear Lady Alicia! There are such crowds of +objections to my going. You see, my illness has been such a set-back. +Harry and Alan are running wild; it isn't fair to them." + +"I think, if I may say so, you ought not to continue to teach them. +Surely, my dear Joan, there is not such pressing need now for money?" + +"I am afraid we have still back bills troubling us. You are no +stranger, Lady Alicia; you know what a struggle it was when Mother and +Cecil were abroad. My Father has never got straight since the expenses +of our move, and Cecil will not realise the necessity for economy. I +have now in my possession bills to the amount of thirty pounds which +she has incurred since Mother's death, and nearly all of them are for +clothes. I dare not let Father see them; he would worry so!" + +"But, my dear Joan, this must be stopped. I am very glad you have told +me—I always feel I come next to your mother with regard to you two +girls, and Cecil is a little influenced by me, I know. Does not your +father give her a settled allowance?" + +"No. You see, Mother and she were always together, and Mother gave her +a free hand." + +"I will try and get him to do it at once, and then, if she exceeds +it, she will be responsible for her own bills. You will not mind my +helping you in this matter? You know I am fond of Cecil, though I see +her faults. And I will call on your doctor's wife and put the case +before her. Perhaps she can manage to teach her boys herself till you +come back. Be strong-minded, my dear. Refuse to worry, and things will +smooth themselves out." + +Lady Alicia certainly worked wonders. She went out into the village the +next day, arranging what part of Joan's duties should be undertaken by +the schoolmistress, and enlisting Miss Borfield's help as well. Mrs. +Blount was flattered by a visit from her, but announced her intention +of sending her boys to school. + +"Their father fully meant them to go this term, but we did not like to +take them away from Miss Adair. She has taught them splendidly, and I +am very grateful to her. My husband was only saying yesterday that she +ought to go away for a thorough rest and change. He met her on her way +to station, and thought her looking shockingly ill. I am sure he will +be very glad to hear that you are taking her away." + +Then Lady Alicia came back to the rectory, and had a very long talk +with Cecil about helping her father in Joan's absence and keeping down +expenses. + +Cecil was at first airily indifferent; then she grew hot and indignant, +and, finally, her better self prevailed. + +"I never can make money go far—it slips through my fingers like water; +but I'll just keep things going till Joan comes back. She does deserve +a holiday; I know she ought to have it. I dare say it will be easier to +do things when she is away than when she is here. Anyhow, I am not a +fool, and Sophia is a host in herself. We shall manage." + +Lastly, Lady Alicia talked to Mr. Adair, and before she left, he +arranged with Cecil that he should give her a dress allowance, which +allowance she was not to exceed. + +On Tuesday, Lady Alicia and Joan set off for Ballyclunny, in the north +of Ireland. + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A VISIT TO IRELAND + +IT had been raining all day, but when the little local train drew up at +the station, the sun was shining through the clouds, and every tree and +bush held thousands of diamond points of wet glistening in the golden +rays. + +The soft, moist air was refreshing to the travellers, who were both +tired. An antiquated landau was waiting outside for them, and when Lady +Alicia suggested that it should be opened, the old coachman looked very +troubled. + +"The colonel's lady has never ridden with her head bare to the heavens, +me lady. Sure, the fastenin's will be rusted entoirely; but if so be +that Mr. Murdoch here will put his shoulder to the cratur, we'll be +able to open her between us." + +Then, in a loud aside, he ejaculated: "May the Holy Virgin kape a hold +of me coat tails, for me body as it is be burstin' through!" + +Joan laughed out, and Lady Alicia said that she would not trouble them +to open it if it was so difficult. But the station-master, Mr. Murdoch, +was hot and impetuous; he called two porters, and the four men threw +themselves upon the vehicle, where they wrestled and talked and swore +to such an extent that Joan thought they were indulging in a free +fight. At last it was wrenched open, and Pat McQuick, the old coachman, +mounted his box again in triumph. But the seams of his coat justified +his fears, and the neck of it was ripped open in more places than one. + +"We are true to our traditions," said Lady Alicia, laughing softly. +"After our immaculate English servants, these give us rather a shock. +I have lived so little in Ireland that I have not had much personal +experience of it; but my friends tell me it is impossible to keep their +servants tidy. Of course, in the towns it is different, and in the big +houses; but my house is very old and very primitive. I wonder what you +will think of it?" + +"I shall love every inch of it," said Joan enthusiastically. + +They drove along a flat, marshy moor; the wild duck and peewits seemed +to have it to themselves. Then they came to woods, climbed a steep +hill, and there had the most lovely view of the blue ocean below them. + +"I did not know you were near the sea." + +"Three miles from it." + +Then they descended into a green valley, twisted in and out of some +very narrow lanes, and eventually came to a cluster of cottages and +a small church. Some barefooted children raced after the carriage +cheering and gesticulating wildly. + +"That's a welcome to us," said Lady Alicia, smiling. "We are only just +outside the village." + +They stopped at a very imposing-looking iron gate, flanked with massive +pillars. There was a little lodge inside, and an old woman, curtsying +deeply, opened the gate. + +Joan looked out with great interest as they drove up the avenue. Rather +an overgrown shrubbery flanked it on either side, then they turned the +corner and came out upon a large grass lawn. Two goats and a flock of +chickens were perambulating across it. The house faced them. It was a +little grey stone building, with a rose-covered veranda running along +the front of it. + +To Joan it seemed very unassuming after the long avenue and pretentious +entrance. The door was opened by a very stout, smiling woman in a red +striped cotton dress and a large, coarse, white apron. She wore no cap. +Lady Alicia knew her, and called her Biddy. + +"Glad we are to see you, me lady," she said; "but there's few enough +to greet ye. The kornel an' his lady, well they just ran the house +with meself an' me niece Mary; but sure it wasn't the kornel that +was masther, but his valet—just a sojer man. And then there was the +foine English maid that turned her nose upwards and her lips down, +an' she an' the kornel's man—they just had very clever heads an' lazy +bodies—for 'twas orders here and orders there, an' even Larry was under +the cratur's thumbs!" + +Talking all the time, she led them into a stone-flagged hall, and +then into a long, rambling room at the back of the house with quaint +corners and recesses, and three casement windows opening into an untidy +flower garden. There was a small fire lighted, and the room looked +comfortable. It was furnished more for comfort than show, though it had +some good pictures and china on the walls. + +"This is, or was, the drawing-room, Joan," said Lady Alicia. "You see +we shall not be in luxury, but it makes a cosy living-room. We have a +dining-room and small morning-room besides; but if the weather is fine, +we must spend most of our time out of doors. Now, Biddy, how soon can +you give us something to eat? And then we will go to bed early, for we +are very tired." + +Biddy assured them that dinner could be served in half an hour, +and then she took them up a broad, shallow flight of stairs to the +bedrooms. They lay on both sides of a wide corridor running the length +of the house, and Joan was delighted with her room. She could catch a +glimpse of the sea from her windows, and roses were climbing the wall +outside and scenting her room with their fragrance. When she came down +to dinner later, Lady Alicia said: + +"Why, Joan, you are already looking rested; what have you been doing to +yourself?" + +"Nothing," said Joan, laughing, "except that I have thrown off the +burden of housekeeping and responsibility, and mean to enjoy every +minute of my time here." + +"We will lead the simple life. I have great confidence in Biddy, for I +have known her since she was a girl. I really came over to see who I +could place here as caretakers. If she and her niece will stay on, I +could not do better. But I see I shall have to have some repairs done. +It is an old house, and wants a good deal of attention from time to +time." + +They enjoyed their simple little dinner, and then, as the evening was +fine, they wandered round the old garden. Joan felt as if she were in +a dream. She had not left home for so long that she loved the very +novelty of a fresh atmosphere and environment. And it was a real treat +to be able to confide in her godmother and receive her sympathy and +counsel. It almost seemed unreal to her to be absolutely detached from +duty, and be able to indulge in rest and recreation just as she felt +inclined. + +Lady Alicia looked after her well. She sent her early to bed, and told +her that breakfast would be served to them in their rooms. + +"Then you can sleep on, if you like. We need not meet till lunch time." + +But, tired though she was, Joan was not fond enough of her bed to +stay there. And very early the next day found her out in the garden, +making friends with the horses and dogs in the stable, listening to old +Larry's yarns of bygone days, and at last settling down on a charming +old seat on a knoll overlooking a wide expanse of country and the ocean +upon the horizon. Here she sat for a full hour with her hands loosely +clasped in her lap and her eyes and thoughts far-away. + +The soft air fanned her brow. There was the scent from a sweet brier +hedge close to her, and a waft of burning peat and wood from the +chimneys of the house. + +Her thoughts flew back home. "What was Cecil doing? Would she remember +that this was the day for ordering the groceries and that the village +women came to the vestry to pay in their club money? Would Mr. Adair +remember that clerical meeting in the afternoon? And would Benson +remember to earth up the potatoes and mend the orchard fence?" + +Then she gave herself a mental shake and began to think of some nature +studies that were simmering in her mind. But very soon her mind was +back in the old rectory. Would Wilmot Gascoigne be continuing to come +there? Was there a fragment of truth in the village gossip? Was it +possible that Cecil was learning to care for him? And if Wilmot really +cared for her, would it be a good match for them both? Again she +determined not to worry. Lady Alicia came out in a few minutes to find +her. + +"I wonder if you would like to drive out to the sea this afternoon," +Lady Alicia said. "I must go over the house with Biddy and do a good +deal of business with her; but Larry could drive you down in the pony +trap. There is a fat pony out at grass who wants to be exercised, and +the coast is lovely; I am sure you would enjoy it." + +Joan was delighted at the idea, and at two o'clock she set off in a +jingle. Larry used a good deal of whip and tongue before the pony could +be persuaded to settle into a steady trot; but time was no object, and +Joan was so interested in everything which she saw that she was in no +hurry to end the drive. + +Once a motor whizzed past them. + +Larry gave an indignant snort. + +"Bad luck to those that use 'em!" he said vindictively. "Me son's wife +have lost foive pigs this very year, an' sorra a bit did the craturs +giv' her for the slaughter of 'em, for she were seven mile from town, +an' the police never got in toime to tak the number, an' they just tore +on for all they were worth! 'Tis one of the things we hope for when +this Home Rule comes, that them motors be kep' under strict control of +police." + +"But I thought they were! What else do you expect Home Rule to do for +you, Larry? I thought you were all against it up here." + +"'Tis like this, Miss. There be a lot of injustice to us Oirish, and +I were born in Cork and be a strict Catholic. The priests tell us the +good old times be comin' back, an' I believe 'em. An' we shall have +a king an' parlyment all of our own one day, an' money will run the +streets like water, they say. A gran' toime be comin'!" + +He shook his head slowly from side to side. + +Joan did not attempt to argue with him; she drew him on to talk, and +when they came out upon miles of rough moorland by the sea, she left +off talking to enjoy the scene before her. + +At last, she got out of the jingle, told Larry to wait for her, and +made her way down to the beach. The tide was out. Great waves in the +distance dashed and foamed over long reefs of rock; the golden sand +with its seaweed and shells proved an enticing place to Joan. She +wandered on, meeting nobody, and revelling in her solitude. + +Suddenly she turned a corner, and heard a child's shrill cry for help. +Looking out upon a rock close to the sea, she saw a small figure waving +a handkerchief. She set off running towards it, and saw it was a tiny +girl quite surrounded by the sea. The tide was evidently on the turn, +and had crept in round her before she had noticed her peril. She was +tugging at something which was evidently caught in a wedge of the rock. +Joan wasted no time in thought. She pulled off her shoes and stockings, +tucked up her skirts, and walked right in, till she reached the child. +She was surprised to find the water reach her knees. + +"My fis' net! My fis' net! A nas'y cwab has got it in his teef!" the +child cried excitedly. + +Joan made a grab at the stick, and with a jerk pulled up a shrimping +net; then she lifted the little girl in her arms and waded back into +safety. Putting her down on the sand, she said: + +"Now, where's your nurse? You might have been drowned." + +"Yes," nodded the small girl. "I screamed and screamed because the +wicked sea ran at me so quick, and I couldn't and couldn't get my fis' +net out of that hole! And then I see'd you, and I waved my hanky, and +then you comed. And now I'll go back and sit down where Uncle Randal +putted me. He'll be coming soon, but poor Rory hurted his foot and it +bleeded, and he was carrying him to the car." + +"Your uncle ought not to have left you on the beach alone," said Joan +severely. + +"I did pwomise him I wouldn't move; but then—why then—well, I had to, +for a little cwab ran away from me, and I followed him, and then I +forgot!" + +She trotted across the sand—a dear little barefooted mite in white +jersey and cap and a rough serge frock, with a crop of golden curls and +mischievous, sparkling face. + +Joan stayed to slip into her shoes and stockings, then leisurely +followed her. By the time she reached her, a tall man had appeared down +an opening in the cliff, and the little girl was gesticulating wildly +in Joan's direction. + +Joan came up, then started in amazement, for the man strode towards her +in no less surprise. + +It was Major Armitage. + +"Miss Adair, have you dropped from the skies?" + +"No, indeed I have not; have you?" + +"I brought my small niece for a motor ride. She inveigled me down to +the sea; then our dog cut his foot, which necessitated my taking him +back to the car, which is waiting for us above; and I find, as usual, +she has nearly brought catastrophe upon herself by not doing as she was +told. How on earth do you happen to be in these parts?" + +Joan told him. He listened with the greatest interest. He seemed more +animated and in better spirits than when she had seen him last; but he +did not compliment her upon her appearance. + +"You must have been ill," he said to her, "to lose your colour so! I +have never seen you anything but radiant and blooming." + +"And now I am a haggard wreck," said Joan, laughing, the colour and +light coming into her eyes and cheeks. "This is a very surprising +encounter. Of course, I knew you had gone to Ireland; but my mind has +been so engrossed with difficulties at home that I never thought of +associating you with this part. You know Lady Alicia, do you not?" + +A shadow came over his face at once. + +"I have never met her, though she has often stayed at my brother's. She +is charming, I believe. We are about twenty miles away; that is nothing +to us, for my sister keeps a car. We will come over and call." + +Then he looked down upon his little niece. "Sheila, this lady who +rescued you just now is an old friend of mine. Kiss her and thank her +for what she has done for you." + +"I don't call her old at all, at all!" responded Sheila quickly, then +she sprang lightly up and seized hold of Joan round the neck, and gave +her a hug. "She's my fren' as well as yours, Uncle Randal, but I shan't +call her old as you do. She's young—quite young, like Mummy!" + +"May I say what a pleasure it is to see you again," said Major +Armitage, letting his eyes dwell on Joan in almost a tender way. "The +one bright memory of Old Bellerton is my evenings in the church on +Sunday, and supper at the rectory afterwards. I have felt such a long +way off from you all that the sudden sight of you is a very delightful +experience." + +"We have missed you very much," Joan said quietly, looking up; and then +she turned again to the child, for somehow or other she was shy of +meeting his eyes. + +"I can't conceive how Lady Alicia managed to spirit you away. What will +they do without you? You were indispensable to everybody." + +"I'm afraid I thought so; but I'm not at all, and Cecil is home now, +and she is looking after things. I was cross, and slack, and very +unpleasant after my attack of 'flu,' and I dare say they are glad to +get rid of me!" + +"Look here, how are you going back? Can't I offer you a seat in my car? +I'll run you to Ballyclunny in no time." + +"Thank you, but I must return the same way I came. Old Larry would feel +quite hurt if I were to desert him. He is the old coachman, and has +driven me here in a small jingle. He let me know that it was a great +favour to have his company; and said that it was only because I was +fresh to 'Oireland' that he had come with me himself instead of sending +the boy. I can't give you his accent, but he said I was the very divil +for getting information, and he was the only one in that part of the +country who could give it to me!" + +She laughed merrily as she shook hands with the Major. He smiled, then +grew grave. + +"I hope you did not get wet in rescuing this naughty child? I blame +myself for having left her. I am really deeply grateful to you, and so +will her mother be, when she hears of her escapade." + +"I did very little." + +Then glancing at the laughing, dancing child, she said: + +"I am so glad you have a small niece, Major Armitage. Children are an +exhilarating tonic." + +"And you think I wanted one? I am not a man who sits down with a broken +backbone when life deals him blows. When I left your part of the world, +I closed and sealed a chapter in my life. Here I am in a fresh one." + +He spoke bravely, but in the tired, weary lines upon his face he +carried the stamp of suffering. And when Joan had left him and was +jogging home behind the fat pony, she wondered if he would ever be +quite the same man again. + +Lady Alicia was very interested when she heard of the encounter. + +"You are not able to get away from your Old Bellerton friends even +here. I had forgotten he had a married sister. What is her name?" + +"I think she married a Mr. Donavan." + +"Oh, I know! The Donavans have a beautiful old place about twenty miles +away. Well, how strange! But I am not sure that I like your being drawn +back into your old atmosphere. I wanted you to have a complete break +from it." + +"Oh, we are not likely to meet very often. Major Armitage is not fond +of society." + +Lady Alicia looked in a meditative fashion at Joan, then shook her head. + +To herself she said: + +"The man that prefers one woman to many is dangerous!" + + +Two days afterwards a car drove up. + +Mrs. Donavan and Major Armitage were announced. Meta Donavan was a +bright, vivacious little woman. She took hold of Joan by both hands and +said: + +"I feel inclined to kiss you! You saved my darling from what might have +been a watery grave. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Of +course, I have heard of you, and I pictured you a Madonna and a saint. +You look quite like an ordinary being! Saints don't have dimples. I +congratulate you upon that possession!" + +Joan could not help laughing. Then, as Major Armitage was talking to +Lady Alicia, Mrs. Donavan gave a little nod in his direction. + +"How do you think he is looking? I flatter myself Sheila and I have +done him a world of good. Be came up here looking like a ghost. I could +hardly get a word out of him; but I never rested till I got him at my +piano, which happens to be a very good one, and then he relaxed, and I +won a smile out of him!" + +Joan wondered if she was her brother's confidante. She hardly thought +so, but she could well understand that she would win her way with +anybody. + +And then presently whilst tea was being got ready, they sauntered +out into the untidy garden, and Joan and Major Armitage were thrown +together. + +"Are you coming back to us again?" she asked when he had been asking +for village news. + +He gave a little shudder. + +"God forbid! I told you that bit of my past is sealed." + +"But what are you going to do about your house?" + +"I'm never going to live in it again." + +Joan looked grave. + +"Your tenants will be sorry. Are you going to sell it?" + +"No; at least, I have not made up my mind." + +"I am very inquisitive," said Joan apologetically; "you must forgive +me. I get so very interested over everyone that I almost regard their +affairs as mine, which is most foolish." + +"Not at all," said Major Armitage quickly. "You are a friend. You have +a right to ask me questions. If things became quieter over here, my +sister would like to leave Ireland for a time. Then I thought she might +like to have my old house. And I shall perhaps go abroad or drift into +club life in London." + +"Oh!" said Joan impulsively. "You talk as if you have no object in your +life." + +"I don't think I have." + +"But your music! Your music!" she cried. "You must not lay that gift +aside. If you do not compose, you can play. And you like Church music. +If I had your gift, I would take some big post as organist and would +speak to souls with my music. Oh, Major Armitage, you have not given up +your music?" + +He looked down upon her and smiled. + +"I wish I could have you always near me to rouse me from my lethargy +and inspire me! I think one needs to be very happy, or very miserable, +to produce good music. And over here I have been living a day at a +time, refusing to think at all deeply, or do more than enjoy the +present. But I don't mean to give up my music. You are quite right +there. And already I am being pestered to return to town and undertake +several things there. But for the present, I am looking after my +sister's estate for her. It badly needs a man upon it." + +"And brains," said Joan, smiling. "I do acknowledge the superiority +of your sex. I might have known you would not be idle. Forgive my +impertinence." + +Then the others joined them, and they went indoors to tea. + +Mrs. Donavan insisted that they should come over to lunch in two days' +time, and this they did. Joan thoroughly enjoyed the day. It was one of +the very few old houses in Ireland which had not been allowed to suffer +decay, and the gardens were beautifully kept. She thought Mrs. Donavan +must be a very happy woman till she took her up to the top of a turret +tower to see the view, and then leaning her arms on the parapet the +young widow gazed away to the distant country with misty eyes. + +"Oh!" she cried. "For a log cabin and a man to take care of me! +Miss Adair, you were saying just now you envied me my home. I have +come to see that no environment compensates for the loss of close +companionship. I have been a lonely miserable woman since my husband +died, and if civil war comes to our poor country, I will almost welcome +the opportunities I shall have of doing and denying myself in the great +cause. I am tired and sick of comfort and prosperity. I am not made for +it, unless I have someone I love to share it with me." + +"You have your brother now." + +"Yes," and her face sparkled through its tears. "I can't tell you what +he has been to me! He has had his trouble, poor fellow! The world is +full of it, but as I tell him, his bliss was snatched away from him +before he tasted it. I tasted mine to the full, and the miss of it is +agony!" + +Then she shook off her emotion, and after that one glimpse of a hidden +self, Mrs. Donavan relapsed into her usual sparkling and charming +gaiety. Major Armitage was in a quiet, grave mood. Joan did not see +much of him, for Sheila claimed her as an old friend, and carried her +off to see her pets and her own little garden. + +When they were driving home, Joan said to Lady Alicia: + +"I think if I were given very favourable circumstances, I should live a +very lazy self-indulgent life. I do love spending my days in idleness." + +"You are resting now. I should not be afraid for you, Joan. Life is too +real to you to waste." + +Joan shook her head doubtfully. + +"I don't want to go home and settle down in the old routine. You +don't know how I chafe against it, Lady Alicia. I am so weary of it, +and Cecil tries my patience, and I even get fretted by my father's +continual cheerful optimism!" + +"You must remember you have been ill. You will feel quite differently +soon. I would remind you of a favourite text of yours which will be +made your experience, and has been, has it not? 'Strengthened with +all might, according to His glorious power, unto all patience and +long-suffering with joyfulness.'" + +Joan drew a long sigh. + +"My dear child, 'being' is as important as 'doing' in God's sight. A +life lived consistently is a sermon in itself. Think of Cecil and of +Banty Gascoigne. Both watching you, both keenly conscious when you fail +in gentleness and patience. Are they not worth winning?" + +"I feel it would need a miracle to alter Cecil," Joan said despondently. + +There was a pause, then Lady Alicia said: "I want you to go back +invigorated and refreshed, and I expect you will. But you are not ready +yet either in mind or body." + +And Joan found that Lady Alicia was right. As the days sped on and +she found her keenness and energy return to her, thoughts of her home +duties no longer oppressed her. She revelled in the simple outdoor life +she was leading, and drew fresh health from her surroundings. When next +Major Armitage met her, he complimented her on the improvement in her +appearance. + +"It is the Irish air," she said, laughing. "I can no longer pretend +that I am an invalid." + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE CHURCH IN THE HILLS + +"SUCH a long letter from Cecil!" + +Joan spoke joyfully. The post had come in rather later than usual. It +was a lovely morning in June. Joan had met the postman in the avenue, +and had just settled herself under a shady beech tree on the lawn to +enjoy her letters. Lady Alicia took a chair, too, under the tree. She +had a fair-sized packet of letters in her hand. + +Joan had troubled over Cecil's silence. She had only written to +her once, and that was a hurried line. Mr. Adair was not a good +correspondent, and though he gave her parish news, the little details +of daily life at the rectory were not mentioned. She glanced at the +closely written sheets in delight, and then caught her breath in +astonishment and almost dismay. + +Lady Alicia looked up. + +"No bad news, I trust?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I suppose it is only my fears come true. Cecil +writes to tell me that she is engaged to Wilmot Gascoigne." + +Lady Alicia did not speak. Joan went on hurriedly reading her letter. +None of the details for which she craved were there; only a long +dissertation on love and marriage and the description of Wilmot in the +light of a devoted lover. + +"We are convinced that there is mental affinity between us," Cecil +wrote. "I inspire him, he tells me, and to be the inspiration of such +a genius is enough for me. It is not the common foolish love we feel +for each other. It is intellectual appreciation, that soul to soul +intercourse which is only understood by ourselves." + +Joan almost laughed as she read it. Then an anxious look came into her +eyes. + +She finished her letter. + +"I don't think I shall be betraying confidence if I let you see it," +she said to Lady Alicia. "Cecil has no reserve in her nature. I expect +she has told everyone by this time all she thinks and feels about her +engagement." + +"I don't know that it is such a misfortune," said Lady Alicia. "They +may suit each other. Cecil wants waking up. This may do it." + +"I am afraid I have lost my confidence in him," said Joan in a troubled +voice. "I would not say this to anybody, but I know you will not +misunderstand me. He came perilously near making love to me at one +time. He would have done it in a moment if I had encouraged him. Oh, I +hope, I hope he will be true to Cecil. I feel awfully afraid for her. +And she is not accustomed to yield her will to another. He will be +master. I am convinced of that." + +"Love makes all things easy," said Lady Alicia. "Yes; but Cecil's +letter hardly gives me that hope. It is all so wordy, so analytical." + +Lady Alicia read the letter and handed it back in silence. + +Joan looked beseechingly at her. + +"Do tell me what you think." + +"I don't know Mr. Gascoigne, and I don't know what to think. It may be +the best thing for Cecil. I don't think she would ever have settled +down happily and contentedly in Old Bellerton." + +"No; I am sure she would not. She told me by hook or crook she would go +abroad again in the autumn. I must write and offer my congratulations, +I suppose." + +It was quite natural that Joan should feel a little sore at heart. It +was not so very long ago that she was assured most fervently that she +inspired and uplifted Wilmot's soul. Now he had transferred his liking +to Cecil; and she could fancy from past experience that the passionate +outpourings of his heart would be very pleasing and convincing to Cecil. + +She shook off forebodings which descended upon her, and wrote an +affectionate, sisterly letter to Cecil. For the rest of the day she was +distrait and depressed. Lady Alicia wisely left her alone. She knew +that if Joan wished to talk to her, she would do it. + + +In the afternoon, Major Armitage and his small niece arrived in the +car. It was Sheila's birthday, and she had elected to come and tell +Joan of it, for, as usual, Joan had won the child's heart. + +They all had tea together on the lawn. Joan watched the uncle and niece +with amusement and astonishment. Sheila was a little autocrat, and the +Major was as wax in her hands. + +She persuaded her elders to play hide and seek with her, and the +formerly gloomy and solitary man was as agile in pursuing and being +pursued across the lawn as his small niece. + +At last both Major Armitage and Joan refused to play any more, and they +sank exhausted upon the garden seat. + +Sheila surveyed them pityingly. + +"You poor fings! I'm not a bit tired." + +Then, looking at them with her head on one side, she announced: + +"I've a picture of Daddy and Mummy sitting on a seat just like you; +only Daddy has his arm round Mummy's neck." + +"Yes," said Joan hastily; "but we're not daddy and mummy, you see." + +"But couldn't you be another daddy and mummy and have a little girl +just like me?" demanded Sheila. + +Joan's sense of humour overcame her embarrassment. She laughed +outright, then jumped up and chased Sheila across the lawn to the house. + +Lady Alicia, from her chair under the tree, looked across at Major +Armitage and smiled. + +"That is what I wish for you," she said. "You must forgive my +impertinence." + +Major Armitage did not resent her speech, as he would have done a few +months ago. + +"I have used up all my affections and emotions over an empty fancy," he +said in a low, husky voice. "I have nothing left to give a woman now." + +"I don't know," Lady Alicia rejoined. "You have respect and liking; +that is a good foundation for love. And as I get older, I see many +happy marriages take place amongst very matter-of-fact, unemotional +people." + +He made no reply, but his eyes followed Joan's figure in the distance; +he watched her seat herself upon the low steps of the veranda and take +Sheila in her arms. + +Lady Alicia said no more. When Joan and the child joined them again, +conversation turned on Irish affairs. + +Presently Major Armitage said: + +"Where do you go to church on Sunday?" + +"We have to drive six miles," said Lady Alicia. "We go into the town." + +"Have you ever heard of a certain parson called Dantman? He has a +little church away in the hills, and is a most remarkable preacher. +My sister told me his story. He is a bit hot-tempered, and got into +trouble with the priests in the south. I think it was in Cork that he +drew crowds to hear him; and then there was a shindy of some sort, and +the bishop gave him this little living and let him know he must accept +it. They say the people walk for miles to hear him, and he has the most +wonderful influence over them. My sister says he would draw tears from +a stone. You ought to hear him. I believe it is as near you as it is to +us—a matter of about fifteen miles." + +Lady Alicia laughed. + +"It always does amuse me to hear the airy way motorists speak of +distances. How do you think we could manage to drive fifteen miles +there and fifteen miles back?" + +"The fat pony would do it in a week," said Joan, laughing. + +"Let me call for you in the car next Sunday. The evening is the best +time to hear him; only the car can't get to his church. There is a +mile and a half walk across the hills, and the scenery is wild in the +extreme." + +"Then what do you do with the car?" + +"We put it up at an inn the last time we went." + +"Your sister may want to go elsewhere." + +"Oh, I think she doesn't go out in the evening, as a rule. She did come +with me once; but I shall drive the car myself; she's very good in +letting me have it when I want it." + +"What do you say, Joan? It is very kind of Major Armitage to propose +taking us. Would you like to go?" + +"It sounds delightful," Joan replied. "I should enjoy it very much." + +"Then I'll call for you at half-past five next Sunday," said Major +Armitage. + +"Come to tea, won't you?" + +"Uncle Randal can't do that," said Sheila, shaking her curls +disapprovingly. "He an' me spread each other's toast on Sunday. I +couldn't do without him." + +"Then we will expect you to supper on our return," said Lady Alicia. + +"Thank you." + +The matter was settled, and when they had left Joan said: + +"I love to see Major Armitage with that child. He is almost boyish. It +is a much better life for him than shut up alone with his music." + +"He ought to get married," Lady Alicia rejoined gravely. "I hope he +will." + +Joan did not reply. + +When Sunday evening came, Lady Alicia, who had been struggling with a +headache all day, told Joan that she was afraid she would not be up to +the walk. + +"But there is no reason why you should not go," she said; "and then you +will be able to tell me about it when you return." + +So when, at half-past five, Major Armitage drove up in his car, only +Joan awaited him. He tucked her up comfortably in the rugs, and they +started. It was a lovely evening, and as they sped through the lanes, +bordered by verdant green meadows, and hedges over which the wild rose +and honeysuckle rioted in lovely profusion, Joan drew a long breath of +delight. + +"This will be a Sunday to remember," she said. "This day week I hope to +be home again." + +"Are you really going so soon?" + +There was regret in Major Armitage's voice. + +"I want to go back, and I don't," said Joan, with her happy laugh. +"This has been such an easy, peaceful time that I should like to +prolong it; but I am well and strong, and feel able to tackle all my +small difficulties with a light heart. Cecil wrote yesterday wanting me +back. She is going up to town, for Wilmot Gascoigne will be there for +some weeks, and she wants to go about with him." + +"I hardly like to ask you, but do you like that engagement?" + +"I suppose I must. Honestly, I am afraid of how it will turn out. But +at present they appear very happy." + +It was odd, she thought, how few men liked Wilmot. She had never heard +anyone praise him in a warm-hearted fashion. + +Major Armitage was silent for a few minutes; then he said, more as if +he were speaking aloud his thoughts: + +"He is, at all events, better suited to her than to you." + +Joan was rather amused. + +"There was nothing of that sort between us," she said, "though I dare +say the village gossiped over our employment together. The world in +general cannot understand an ordinary business-like, matter-of-fact +friendship between man and woman." + +"Oh, I heard no gossip," said Major Armitage hastily. "I rarely had +intercourse with the outside world when I was at home. Looking back +now, I see it was a mistake. I got wrapped up in visions and dreams, to +my own detriment and hurt. Now I believe in the wisdom of the Almighty: +'It is not good for man to be alone.'" + +"I don't believe a lonely life is good for any of us," said Joan +slowly; "and it is so unnecessary. There are always so many who would +be the better for our help and friendship, and for whom we should be +the better too." + +"My sister has shaken into me a little of her practical sense. You see, +since I left the Service and my trouble connected with my sight came to +me, I shrank from everyone, and after a time, isolation became a habit +which I could not break. I always count it as one of my blessings that +your father was brought to my gates and laid up in my house. I think +if I had not had your friendship, things would have gone badly with me +later on. And—and, Miss Adair, I don't want to lose your friendship, +for I have learnt to value it." + +Joan's heart gave a little throb. It told her then how much she valued +his friendship; but she answered very simply: + +"You have it." + +There was silence between them. The car took them away now from the +lanes across a wide expanse of moor; then hills appeared, and very +shortly after they came to a standstill. + +A cluster of small cottages round a very dilapidated inn was the end of +their drive. Major Armitage was welcomed by the landlord of the "Black +Pig," who showed him a big shed, into which he could run his car. + +"Sure an' you'll be goin' to hear the praycher?" he ejaculated. "He's a +holy sowl, if there be wan on this airth; but a powerfu' scaldin' hot +dressin' he gives to the people, Oi can tell ye!" + +Joan and the Major were not long in starting up a narrow sheep-track +across the hills. Here and there were little groups of the peasantry +crossing the rough moorland. The sun was sending slanting rays across +the hills, touching up here and there a little cluster of trees with +golden glory. + +The stillness of the summer evening made Joan say thoughtfully: + +"I always think a summer Sunday evening the most delicious time in all +the year. We might be away from the world altogether up here—caught up +to receive a heavenly vision." + +Major Armitage looked at her with a smile. + +"That's rather good," he said. "I do hope you won't be disappointed in +him." + +It was rough walking, but at last they emerged from their irregular +stony pathway upon a level bit of ground; and there, tucked away in a +copse of trees and brushwood, with a high cliff behind it, was a tiny +iron church. + +"What an extraordinary place to build a church in!" exclaimed Joan. + +"It was built and endowed by a rich farmer. You will see the tablet to +his memory in the church." + +They went inside. It was fast filling, and they took a seat just +inside the door. The music was not very good. There was a wheezy +harmonium, and no pretence at a choir. The congregation took a hearty +part in singing and responses. It was just a very plain, simple little +building; and John Dantman was at first sight a very commonplace little +man. + +Yet when he mounted the pulpit, Joan saw that his eyes were magnetic in +their compelling power, and his preaching thrilling in its force and +reality. He did not rant or rave, he leant over his pulpit quietly, and +seemed to search and speak to every individual soul before him. He took +for his text: + + "'Knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men.'" + +Very stern, unflinchingly true, and convincingly earnest was the first +part of his sermon, but suddenly his voice broke and softened. + +"We persuade men," he said; "that is our vocation, we are not here to +scold, to upbraid, to frighten. We have told you stern facts, that is +all." + +And then followed such loving, persuasive pleading that Joan listened +herself with a swelling heart, and when it was all over and she came +out into the soft, summer air, she exclaimed: + +"Oh, Major Armitage, I feel a burning desire now to exercise a little +of my persuasion upon others. It is quite true what you say. If we all +believed earnestly what we profess to believe, we could not live so +indifferently, and selfishly ignore the needs of those who have not +grasped the truth. If I were a man! Oh, if I were a man!" + +She stopped, a little ashamed of her emotion. + +"What would you do?" + +"Oh, I don't know, the field would be so wide. I think I have wanted +all my life to impart knowledge, to influence, to take a part in +moulding the characters of the next generation. Teaching those younger +than myself has always been before me. I have been distinctly shown +that my sphere is to be in my own home, in a country village, learning +lessons myself instead of teaching." + +"What kind of lessons?" asked Major Armitage, wishing to draw her out. + +"Lessons of patience and endurance and long-suffering with joyfulness," +she said in a low tone. + +Major Armitage was silent for a moment. Then he said: + +"Those are hard lessons for any of us. And very few of us attempt to +learn them." + +They lapsed into silence. + +The going down was more difficult in the waning light than coming up. +Joan was glad to take Major Armitage's offered arm. To her the memory +of that evening would always remain with her. She had enjoyed every bit +of it; she hardly liked to acknowledge to herself how happy she was in +company with the man who walked beside her. From having had a deep pity +for him, she found herself taking an absorbing and increasing interest +in him. He never disappointed her in anything he said or did. They were +very silent on their return journey. Just before they reached Lady +Alicia's house Major Armitage said: + +"I am afraid this will be good-bye for the present. I have to go away +for a few days on business for my sister, and when I return I shall +find you flown, shall I not?" + +"Yes, I leave on Wednesday." + +"Will you remember me to your father? I wonder if you would send me +occasional news of Old Bellerton? It would be a great pleasure to hear +from you." + +"Certainly I will." + +Joan's voice had a little tremor in it. + +"Thank you." + +He said no more. + +And then they went indoors, and found Lady Alicia waiting to hear about +their service. + +When Major Armitage took his departure a little later, he looked rather +wistfully at Joan as he took her hand. + +"How glad your father will be to have you back again!" he said with +emphasis. + +Joan laughed. + +"Yes, I think he will. He and I have lived so long together that we +know each other's ways, and he says he is lost without me." + +"But he can't expect to keep you with him always." + +"Why not? I don't think anything will call me away from him. I feel my +life is meant to be in that quiet corner, and I am going to be content." + +He looked at her, seemed as if he was about to speak, then shut his +lips sternly and wrung her hand. + +And Joan felt when he had left, as if the sunshine had gone out of her +heart, leaving it grey and empty and cheerless. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +CECIL'S ENGAGEMENT + +JOAN arrived home to find a good deal awaiting her. Cecil was in a +fever to be away. She was going to stay with some friends of her +mother's. Wilmot was already in town; Mr. Adair was not very well. He +had got wet one day, and bronchitis, his old enemy, was hovering over +him. Jenny had had words with Cecil, and had given notice. She was +sullen when Joan spoke to her; and Sophia said that she was determined +not to stay. Benson, the odd man, had become very slack in his work. +The garden had suffered from having no superintendence, and weeds had +grown apace. There had been friction between Miss Borwill and the +schoolmistress at Sunday school, and two steady members of the choir +had resigned. + +Joan found life bristling with difficulties; but she was her bright, +capable self again, and tackled everything with a cheery spirit. She +had expected to find a slack household under Cecil's rule, and so was +not dismayed in consequence. Upon the night of her arrival, Cecil came +into her room when she went up to bed, and regardless of Joan's fatigue +kept her talking till past one o'clock. + +The question Joan asked at once was: + +"Is Mother's book finished?" + +"My dear Joan, how ridiculous! Of course it is not. Wilmot thinks that +he must go out to the Riviera with a camera and get some snapshots. +He says a book of that sort must be prettily illustrated, or it will +not be attractive. And if—if we are married in November, we could go +together to the Riviera. I shall never be able to winter in England, I +know." + +"But is the writing of the book finished?" + +"Oh, no—not nearly. It shows how little you know about writing a book +like that! We have done about half. I am persuading him to throw over +these Gascoigne Chronicles. It is a never-ending task, and he works +better in town, he tells me. I can quite believe it. The rush and throb +of life there must stimulate and quicken your brains. This deadly +country life paralyses one! He and I are thoroughly agreed upon that +point." + +"Have you seen anything of Banty?" + +"Oh, of course. I was asked to the Hall to be thoroughly inspected and +criticised. Banty has no manners—she is like a new-fledged schoolgirl. +She never has a word to say for herself. Wilmot says she has no +intelligence at all." + +"And you are really happy, Cecil?" + +"My dear Joan, I am not overwhelmed with ecstasy because I am going +to be married. I have seen too much of men to expect much from them. +But Wilmot and I understand each other, and I shall have the life that +suits me; that is the main thing. I want you to speak to Father about +money. I can't go up to town without a penny in my pocket; I may go to +other friends whilst I am there. Everyone will soon be leaving town, +and I want to take advantage of my opportunities. I can't possibly make +my allowance cover my travelling expenses. And I dare say I shall be +able to get some of my trousseau in town. I suppose Father intends to +give me that, doesn't he?" + +"Oh, dear!" sighed poor Joan. "I do not see how Father can give you +money at present. But I will talk to him and see what we can do." + +When Cecil eventually left her, Joan buried her face in her pillow with +determination. + +"I won't worry. I'm going to trust. God will guide and provide." + +And her sleep was sound, unshadowed by any difficulties or troubles +looming ahead. + +Mr. Adair found he was able to give Cecil what she required, and she +left home in high spirits. She did not often write, so Joan was quite +satisfied that she was enjoying herself, and went her way happily, +helping her father in parish matters, making peace between those who +were quarrelling, and finding time to send up to her editor one or two +more short sketches from rural life. + +And then one day Derrick appeared. He walked in at luncheon time. Mr. +Adair was away at a clerical meeting in the neighbouring town, and +Joan, being alone, was lunching off bread and cheese and salad. But +Sophia, who was always ready in an emergency, produced two grilled +mutton chops and a savoury omelette, and Derrick did justice to both. + +"I'm not going to desert you, Joan, though you won't have anything to +say to me. And as you look upon me as a brother, I have come down to +give you a brother's hint. Have you heard from the Malingerer?" + +"Not for more than a fortnight. Why?" + +"Oh, I've been seeing a lot of her. And that rat Motty is going, in +vulgar phrase, to chuck her!" + +"Oh, Derrick, don't speak so!" + +Pride for her sister, and hot indignation at such a supposition, made +Joan's cheeks burn. + +"I tell you it's true! Why was she such a fool as to get infatuated +with him? Now don't rear your head and look so lofty. I'm talking like +a brother. I want you to warn her. Motty is as fickle as the wind! +You found him out, didn't you? I was pretty sick when I heard the +Malingerer had taken him on, for I knew it could only end one way. Have +you seen Banty lately?" + +"No, she is away. I have not met her since I came home." + +"Well, I was asked down for a week-end whilst you were away, and old +Jossy was in a fine stew. He couldn't get Motty to finish up his +Chronicles. He has been at them three years, and they never get any +forrarder. He runs some other book at the same time, and that gets all +his time and attention. I think your mother's Riviera notes were too +absorbing; those and the love-making together, and old Jossy spoke out +straight, and told Motty unless he would stick to his work with him, he +could go. So Motty packed his bag and walked off for good, leaving the +Chronicles behind him." + +"Cecil never told me he had left his uncle's," said Joan, a troubled +look coming into her eyes. + +"Didn't she? Well, I've seen a good bit of her in town, and I can tell +you Motty is conspicuous by his absence. She can't understand it, and +is getting restive. I happen to know that a rich American girl has got +hold of him, and is running him for all she is worth. He goes about +everywhere with her, but the Malingerer has only seen them together +twice. Motty told her when she questioned him about it that she was +a most clever photographer, and he had hopes of enlisting her in the +cause of your mother's book. She had promised to give him some of her +snapshots of the Riviera for it. I don't think the Malingerer quite +swallowed it. Motty always has been wild to get to America, and I +believe he'll be on the briny before the Malingerer knows where he is." + +"Do stop calling her the Malingerer," said Joan. "She is so much +stronger now that we hear nothing about her health. Poor Cecil! I do +hope that he will be true to her. It will break her heart." + +Derrick laughed. + +"Not a bit of it. Her heart isn't in it. I could tell that from the way +she discussed him with me. I should like to get hold of Motty by the +neck and shake him as a terrier does a rat!" + +"What can I do?" asked Joan helplessly. + +"Get her home again." + +"She won't come." + +"Can't you get an attack of the 'flu' again and go to bed and then wire +to her?" + +"Oh!" said Joan impulsively. "How I wish you would marry her, Derrick!" + +Derrick's eyes danced. + +"Do you think she would have me? You know who I want to marry." + +"Oh, that is past. And just think, Derrick, how nice it would be to +have you as a real brother! That is the position I want you to be in." + +"Your morals are deficient. She is an engaged girl at present." + +"I will write to her by this post," said Joan; "but I hardly know what +to say." + +Joan never wrote that letter, for before Derrick left her that +afternoon, she received a wire: + + "Coming home this evening. Arrive six o'clock.—CECIL." + +Derrick was quite relieved. + +"They've had it out, then. He was to take her to some gallery +yesterday. He had failed to keep two appointments with her, and I could +see she meant to bring matters to a point. I might have spared myself +the trouble of coming down, except that you're always such a 'sight for +sore e'en.' Sophia says you're like a breeze in the house; I should say +you stilled it. I suppose I had better make myself scarce. I'm sleeping +at the Hall for a few nights. But if I can do anything for you, let me +have a line before I go back to town. A horsewhipping or a ducking in +the round pond would be too mild for him!" + +"You are thinking the very worst of him," said Joan. "They may have +drawn closer together after meeting. I hope so." + +"Never!" said Derrick with conviction. + +Joan drove slowly along the leafy lanes to the station, thinking +deeply. The old pony would not be hurried, and Joan let him take his +own pace. + +She was wondering if Cecil had been disillusioned, and, if so, whether +it would be a blessing to her or the reverse. She dreaded having her +back embittered and disappointed. A rush of sympathy for her welled up +in her heart. Cecil had gone to London careless, gay, and perfectly +sure of her future; she was coming back perhaps empty and forlorn. Yet, +when the train came in and the sisters met, Cecil looked much as usual. +She was dressed in a grey linen dress, and wore a shady hat with violet +pansies round it. She was already lightening her mourning for her +mother. Joan was still in black. + +"Well, Cecil dear, welcome home! You have returned very suddenly." + +"Yes; it's too hot and airless in town. I can't stand it; and, of +course, everybody is leaving." + +"Derrick made his appearance yesterday. He told me he had been seeing a +good bit of you." + +"Yes. He is rather nice, isn't he? And knows the right people in town, +which is a great thing." + +They chatted together on the way home on trivial matters. Cecil gave no +hint of being disappointed or unhappy, and Joan came to the conclusion +that all must be right with her. + +Mr. Adair was away for the evening, taking some festival service at a +neighbouring church, so the girls had a quiet dinner, and, pleading +fatigue, Cecil retired early to bed. + +One thing Joan noticed, and that was that Cecil did not mention +Wilmot's name. She had not the courage to ask after him. She waited up +for her father, who returned about ten o'clock. At half-past ten, just +before finally bolting the front door, Joan stepped out upon the gravel +path to inhale the sweet night air. Then she noticed that a light was +still burning in Cecil's room, and knew that, though she had retired an +hour and a half previously, she was still awake. + +As she went upstairs to bed, she debated with herself as to whether she +should go to her sister. + +If Cecil had anything to tell, night was the best time for her to tell +it. + +After a little hesitation, she went across the passage and knocked +gently at her door. + +There was silence for a moment. The light was being extinguished, and +then Cecil's voice spoke: + +"Come in." + +Joan slipped in and felt her way to the bedside in the dark. + +She put out her hand and touched Cecil's head. + +"Cecil dear." + +In a moment Cecil's arms, to her surprise, were put round her neck, +drawing her down to her, and Joan was conscious that her own cheek was +touching a very tear-stained one on the pillow. + +"I felt I must get back to you. You're always the same, and you'll +understand and feel for me. It's all over between us. But I have broken +it off, I'm thankful to say." + +A little sob broke her voice. + +"Tell me, dear. I was afraid of it." + +Cecil steadied her voice. + +"He treated me abominably, shamefully! I think when he was turned away +from the Hall, he began to weigh me in the balance, and he certainly +found me wanting in the matter of pounds, shillings and pence! Then he +was taken up violently in town by some Americans, who have accepted +him at his own valuation, and believe that he is a genius. He was more +and more with them, and less and less with me. They are going to take +him over to America, and arrange a tour of lectures for him, and, of +course, he means to marry the daughter. I suppose I have discovered, as +you did, that he is a gasbag, and has no grit or purpose in him. I am +thankful for my escape, but oh, Joan, it humiliates and hurts! And I +feel alone. I miss Mother, and—and—well, I'm desperately miserable!" + +Joan felt it all so pathetic that she mingled her tears with Cecil's. +She asked presently about Mrs. Adair's notes. + +"He has really done very little to them. We must get them back. I did +say something to him, but he says he will not let all his labour go +for nothing. He says he has been spending his time and brains on other +people's property, and will not be treated by us as he has been by his +relations. As a matter-of-fact, I know Sir Joseph paid him handsomely. +But what can we do, Joan? Could Derrick—?" + +"Yes; Derrick will tackle him," said Joan confidently; "and, if he +goes to America, we must hope that we shall never see him again. Don't +worry, dearest. I am glad that you have found him out before you were +married to him. It would be so awful to be disillusioned afterwards." + +"I suppose everybody here will laugh at me, but 'I' have broken it off, +Joan, remember!" + +"Yes," said Joan, almost smiling at Cecil's eagerness for that fact to +be known. "I am afraid Wilmot has not many friends in this part, so I +do not think you will be blamed." + +She stayed with her some time. She had never before seen Cecil so +softened and affectionate, and longed to improve the occasion. Yet she +felt tongue-tied until, just as she was saying good-night, Cecil said: + +"I felt quite thankful that you were at home, and not in Ireland. Oh, +Joan, sometimes I wish I were good like you! Whatever comes to you +makes you content and happy, and life is not happy to me. I hate my +surroundings here; they make me miserable, and this dreadful want of +money cripples one so. Don't you ever want to break away from it all?" + +"Often and often," was Joan's frank reply. "But it is good to be able +to trust one's life to God, Cecil dear." + +If Joan expected Cecil to be a different girl after that evening's +conversation, she was much mistaken. Cecil was exceedingly irritable +and exacting in the days which followed. She would not leave the house +or grounds, and shrank from seeing visitors. She lay in bed late, and +spent most of her days in a hammock in the garden, complaining of the +heat, and flies, and other annoyances. + +Derrick paid a flying visit before leaving for town, and, though Cecil +tried to escape him, they met in the hall. He put out his hand at once. + +"My fervent congrats.!" he said. "Joan has told me. I never could +congratulate you before, you know. I admire your pluck. My fingers, +figuratively, are tingling to be at his throat. May I call on him in +town and get that book of your mother's from him? I was able to help +Joan in her difficulty with him, and I'll do the same for you." + +Cecil at first received his speech with haughty head and stony face, +but Derrick's sunny, genial manner always won his cause. Her whole +demeanour softened; she threw her pride to the winds. + +"Oh, Derrick, I'll love you for ever if you get it from him! He'll +never finish it! I know he never will." + +Derrick nodded. + +"You must have someone to do battle for you, and Motty and I understand +each other perfectly. What a good for nothing scoundrel he is!" + +In a fortnight's time, Cecil received a registered packet by post. It +was the MS. And without another word she put it into Joan's hands. + +"Don't let me see it again. Do what you like with it without asking me." + +So Joan had her heart's desire, and put all her spare time to it. + + +Then one day she received from Ireland a packet of roughly scored music +and a note. + + "DEAR MISS ADAIR,—I am still waiting to hear from you. I want you to +try enclosed upon the organ, and tell me what you think of it as an +anthem. We shall not soon forget the words. Does the music represent +the force and beauty of them sufficiently? I wish I could hear you +take the soprano part. Remember me to your father. Music seems out +of place in this country at present. It is seething with discord and +hot rage. The memory of our evening walk together is like a far-away +melody.—Yours in true friendship,— + + "RANDAL ARMITAGE." + +Joan took the anthem down to the church when her day's work was over. + +The music, as she expected, was lovely. First, the crashing thunder, +then the exquisitely soft and beautiful pleading. Joan felt her heart +stirred and swayed by its power and pathos. And when she tried to +sing it, she felt a longing to sing it to some tired, wayward hearts. +"Knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men." + +"What a gift he has!" she thought, when at last she closed the organ +and came through the dusky garden to the house. "And now I must write +to him. I ought to have done so before." + +She wrote a bright, natural, chatty letter, telling him all the village +news which she thought might interest him; and then she mentioned the +anthem: + + "I can't tell you how much I like it and how much it brings back to +me! As I hear the music, I shall always see that little Irish church +amongst the hills, with the ignorant, expectant faces all round us, +and the wonderful stillness, with the one human voice speaking to and +stirring our souls. Are you going to have it printed? I do hope you +will.—Yours most sincerely,— + + "JOAN ADAIR." + + + +CHAPTER XX + +BANTY'S ACCIDENT + +"MISS JOAN, have you heard the news?" + +Sophia burst into the dining-room one morning about eleven o'clock. +Joan was busy dressmaking. She was not a very good hand at it, but she +was now, with knitted brows, cutting out a serge skirt for herself, and +she looked up just a little impatiently at the interruption. + +"Is it another baby, or has one of the villagers come in for a fortune?" + +"Miss Gascoigne at the Hall has been killed by a horse she was riding!" + +Joan dropped her scissors on the table with a clatter. + +"Sophia! What do you mean? It can't be true!" + +"It is, then. The butcher's boy brought the news, and he has come +straight from the Hall. They were carrying her in before he left." + +Joan's face was absolutely colourless. She stood staring at Sophia in +horror. + +"Banty? She was only here yesterday, and she asked me to have tea in +the pine wood with her to-morrow! Oh, Sophia, it must be a mistake." + +Sophia shook her head gloomily. + +"She was exercising a young horse in the paddock, the boy said, and he +bucked and threw her against the stone wall." + +"I don't believe it," said Joan. + +"Don't believe what?" + +Cecil asked the question as she sauntered into the room. She had only +just left her bedroom. + +Joan blurted out Sophia's news, and Cecil was stricken dumb for a +moment. Then she recovered herself. + +"It's only a report. She is, most likely, stunned for the time. Is +Father in?" + +"No. I shall go and inquire at once." + +Joan dashed out of the room, seized her garden hat, which was hanging +up in the hall, and set off at a quick run down the village. + +Bad news travels fast. There were knots of women at their doors; two +men she met both assured her it was a terrible accident, but knew no +more; everybody was conjecturing and discussing the event. It was long +since the quiet village had been thrown into such a ferment. + +"I seed two magpies only this morning; I knowed somethin' were comin'." + +"'Twas strange her passin' the remark to me only yesterday when she saw +gran'ma: 'Well,' she says, 'I only hope,' she says, 'I shan't live till +I can do nothing but sit and smile in a chair,' she says. She be always +so blunt in her way, but she had a good heart, that she had!" + +Scraps of conversation like this came to Joan's ears as she passed by. +She was determined to get at the truth, and would not even stop at the +lodge, but pressed on up the drive as fast as her breath and feet could +carry her. She saw the old family butler. + +"She's alive, miss," he said in answer to her question, "but we don't +know how long she will be. There is complications, they say. We've +wired for two nurses and a London doctor, and Dr. Blount is upstairs +now." + +"I will call again," said Joan. "Will you tell Lady Gascoigne that I am +ready to do anything for her if she wants help in any way?" + +Then she went home with lingering steps. It seemed so impossible for +Banty to be ill: Banty, who had always boasted of her superb health, +and had never stayed indoors in the roughest weather! Joan longed to +know details. + +Later in the day her father called at the Hall, and Lady Gascoigne saw +him. She told him as much as she knew herself: how Banty was exercising +a young hunter, and was thrown against a stone wall as she cantered +round the field. She was picked up unconscious; her head was badly +bruised, her right wrist broken, but the most serious injury was to her +right leg and thigh. They hoped now there were no internal injuries. +The London doctor was hopeful of her recovery, but feared she might +have to lose her leg. + +When Joan heard this, her heart sank within her. If Banty lost her leg, +she would never be able to ride and hunt again; and that was her life. + + +As the days went on, it seemed very doubtful whether poor Banty would +pull through; and when her leg was finally amputated above the knee, +she turned her face, like Ahab, to the wall, and refused to eat. "Let +me die! I want to die!" was her cry. + +At last, in despair, her parents sent for Joan. She obeyed the summons +promptly, but was shocked at the change in Lady Gascoigne, who was bent +and feeble and seemed ten years older. Tears were in her eyes as she +greeted Joan. + +"Oh, Joan, you must help us! She is our only child. She won't try to +live. She seems as if she is stricken dumb. She will not answer us or +take the slightest notice of anything we say to her. But this morning I +said, 'I must get Joan Adair to come and persuade you,' and she turned +her poor eyes round and looked at me. + +"'Get her,' she said; and those are the first words she has spoken for +two days. + +"She was so fond of you. Perhaps you may be able to influence her." + +"May I see her alone?" Joan asked. + +"Of course you may if you wish it. But she seems quite oblivious as to +whether there are few or many in the room." + +"I would rather be alone with her," Joan persisted. + +She was led upstairs to Banty's bedroom. A nurse opened the door. + +"I think she is sleeping," she said softly. "I want her to take some +beef tea, but it is difficult." + +"Will you let me be alone with her for a little?" Joan asked. + +The nurse demurred, then gave way, but asked Joan not to stay long and +not to excite her. + +Then into the sick room Joan went. Banty was lying back on her pillows. +Her face was sharpened by suffering, her eyes were closed. Joan bent +down softly and kissed her forehead. Then, as Banty's eyes opened +slowly, she smiled at her. + +"Here I am, Banty." + +Banty gazed at her in silence. Joan's fresh, fair face, with her +sunshiny, dimpling smile, seemed quite out of place in that room. But +Banty found her voice. + +"Lock them all out!" she said tersely and sharply. + +Without any demur, Joan walked to the door and tuned the key in the +lock. Then she drew up a chair to the bedside, and seated herself upon +it. + +"Now we are alone," she said. + +A flicker of a smile passed over Banty's face. "They've never left me, +night or day," she said. + +Joan put out her hand and took hold of Banty's caressingly. + +"And I've been thinking of you night and day," she said quite +cheerfully. "But, before we have a chat together, do drink this beef +tea, will you, or else the nurse will be back to give it to you." + +Banty raised herself a little on the pillows. Joan tucked another +pillow behind her, and saw every drop of the beef tea disappear. She +was not in a hurry to speak, so she waited in silence till Banty said, +slowly and haltingly: + +"They talk over me, and cry over me, and bewail my lot till I feel +nearly mad. The parents' faces nearly reach to the ground! The nurses +put on their nurse's cheeriness and talk to me as if I am just born!" + +Joan laughed. She could not help it, though her heart was aching for +the girl in bed. + +Banty looked up gratefully. + +"Laugh again! I'd forgotten there was any laughter left in the world. +I've been tied up in this bed at their mercy. I can't—can't get away +from them." + +A rebellious, untamed soul looked out of her anguished eyes. + +Joan pressed her hand sympathetically. Then she spoke: + +"Look here, Banty, I've promised not to excite you. I'll talk as much +as ever you like, but if I'm to come again, I must not make you worse. +I haven't told you yet—" + +"Don't you pity me! Don't you say you're sorry for me. I'm fed up with +that." + +"I won't. It goes without saying." + +"Thank goodness you can speak in your natural voice!" + +"Well, now, I'm going to be quite natural. You have to get out of this +bed as quickly as you can. I can quite imagine the prison it has been +to you. I shall expect you very soon to come along to the pine woods in +a bath-chair, and then we can spread a rug on the ground, and you shall +lie on it and throw cones at the squirrels, whilst I make a fire and +boil the tea." + +Banty drew a quick breath. She looked up at Joan with wistful longing. + +"Will you manage it for me?" + +"You will have to do that. Feed yourself up, get strong and cheerful, +and send your nurses about their business. As long as you are weak, +they must be with you. The remedy is in your own hands." + +Banty gazed at Joan without speaking; then she said: + +"Do you know what Father did when he was last in my room? Crept to that +drawer over there, and took away my pet revolver. He thought I didn't +see him. I did. It was my one hope from the time they told me my fate." + +"Then I'm glad he took it," said Joan stoutly. "You never have been a +coward, Banty, and you won't be one now." + +Banty did not reply. + +Then came a knock at the door. She scowled. + +"Let them knock! This is the first bit of peace I've had. They had me +in their power." + +Joan crossed the room and unlocked the door. It was one of the nurses. + +"I shan't stay much longer, nurse; but the beef tea is taken, and Miss +Gascoigne is quite quiet and comfortable." + +The nurse glanced suspiciously round. Joan looked at her with one of +her irresistible smiles. + +"Miss Gascoigne and I are old friends. We wanted to pretend she was not +ill, and had no doctors or nurses. She is going to get well as quickly +as she can." + +The nurse understood, and wisely gave way. "Ten minutes more, then; and +you will find me in the little room at the end of the corridor." + +Joan nodded; then came over to Banty again. + +"It's better to coax than to force," she said. "Oh, Banty, dear, you +must get well quickly. I want you, and so do your parents." + +"Do you know what my being well means?" + +"Yes; we won't shirk it. It means, possibly, an artificial leg, a +stick, and a slight limp; but there's the wide world waiting for you +outside and wanting you. It will mean no riding or hunting; but the +country isn't taken from you. You will drive yourself about, and I +believe a new world will dawn for you, a world which you have never +entered, and which is very fair indeed." + +Banty lay still. Not a word did she say, and very soon Joan took her +leave. + +"Come again soon," was the request. + +"Yes; and soon you will be sitting up by your open window." + +In the hall Joan met Lady Gascoigne. + +"How did you leave our poor darling? Did you talk to her about +resignation and patience? I hoped you would do her good." + +Joan shook her head. + +"I've only tried to shake and wake her," she said; "and I think, dear +Lady Gascoigne, I should leave her a good deal to herself. Banty has +always liked being alone." + +"But not now. I assure you we don't leave her a minute for fear she +should want something." + +"I think she would like to be alone sometimes." + +But though Joan had not talked to Banty of the things she loved, she +had been silently praying for her the whole time; and, as she walked +home, her whole heart went out towards her in sympathy and love. + +Joan had accomplished what none of Banty's family had been able to do. +She had shaken her out of her despairing lethargy and had given her the +desire to live. + + +Banty's wonderfully healthy and strong constitution stood her in good +stead now. When once her will was exercised on the side of recovery, +she began to make rapid strides towards convalescence, and, if she made +exacting demands on Joan's time, Joan was cheerfully anxious to comply +with them. She put in an hour with Banty nearly every day, and they +talked of many things; but for a long while Banty would not touch upon +her own helplessness, and Joan always fell in with her mood. + +As autumn came on, and the days became shorter and colder, Joan felt +unutterably sad for the girl who would necessarily be so much shut up +in the house this first winter. + +She hated needlework of every kind, she rarely read; indoor occupation +of any sort was intolerable to her. + +"She had much better have been killed outright," said Cecil one day +when Joan was talking about her. "When the hunting comes on, she'll be +desperate. There is nothing for her to live for." + +"Oh, Cecil, think how full life is! Hunting is, after all, a very small +matter." + +"Hunting was her life." + +"It's a good thing we are made up of different parts," said Joan. +"Banty has only developed one part of her nature up to now. She has +still others lying dormant." + +"She has no intellect," said Cecil sharply. "Even your partiality to +her cannot own that." + +"I believe she has," said Joan. "Time will show." + +The day came when Banty could propel herself in a wheel-chair, and +after that she was seldom found indoors. Perhaps the worst time to her +was the day of the opening meet. At first her father said he would not +go, but Banty urged him to do so. + +"As I'm making up my mind to live, the sooner you slip into your old +ways the better. You go your way and I will go mine. I suppose I shall +enjoy hearing about your run by and by!" + +The people round were wonderfully sympathetic with poor Banty, but were +all so shy of seeing her suffer, that they wrote their condolences and +shrank from seeing her personally. + +One afternoon, Joan's suggestion was carried out, and Banty drove +herself to the pine wood in the low cart that was now set apart for her +use. + +When she was comfortably settled, Joan produced some needlework. + +"Now we'll enjoy ourselves," she said. + +"Joan, if you hadn't been here, I should have put an end to myself," +Banty said suddenly. "I couldn't have gone through these awful months +without you." + +Joan shook her head at her. + +"Don't try to think of what you might have done in other circumstances. +Everything was planned out and arranged for you." + +"I believe it was," said Banty in an awed voice. "Joan, I must take up +religion. All cripples do, don't they? They always lie on couches, with +saintly smiles, and their corner is the haven of peace and refuge for +the rest of the house." + +Banty spoke so gravely that Joan wondered whether she were in jest or +earnest. + +"I want you to have the religion that will make your life fuller than +it has ever been," said Joan earnestly. + +"As full as yours?" queried Banty in a bantering tone. Then with +sudden gravity she burst out: "Joan, I tell you honestly, I've envied +you ever since you came to live here. You never go about and enjoy +yourself; you're half a servant, half a parson, half a teacher, half +a housekeeper. You look after everybody, and keep them all in a good +temper, and yet you're as happy as a sandboy through and through. It +isn't on the surface, for I've watched you closely. How do you manage +to do it?" + +"It's the realising that you're just doing what you are meant to do," +said Joan, "that brings content and happiness to me. I have a motto; +have I told you it before? Three words: 'Patience, long-suffering, with +joyfulness.' That's what I aim at. And, may I say, Banty, that I think +your courage and patience now are wonderful!" + +"Oh, stow it!" said Banty, colouring. "Of course, I show my best to +you, and, out here in the fresh air, who could be cantankerous?" + +Another silence fell on them. Then Joan jumped up and got tea ready. + +"What does Cecil do with herself every day?" Banty asked presently. + +"She has driven into the town to-day to do some shopping." + +"Is she going abroad this winter?" + +"I—I don't think so. She wants to go, but I'm afraid it can't be +managed." + +"I should like to think she would be away. She worries you." + +"Oh no, she doesn't. We understand each other perfectly." + +Joan led the conversation to other subjects. She never criticised Cecil +to others. + +They stayed in the woods an hour longer, and then, very reluctantly, +Banty allowed herself to be tucked up again in the trap, and her small +groom, who had been amusing himself by gathering blackberries, took her +home. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A CHANCE FOR CECIL + +AUTUMN passed. To Joan it seemed that her life was very full. Banty +demanded a great deal of her time, but she did not grudge it to her. +Talks with Lady Alicia came back to her in which she had been told +that she might be kept in her rather narrow sphere with the object of +helping one particular person; and Joan could not but feel that Banty's +sad misfortune had opened the way for a good many real talks on the +deep things in life. Banty repeatedly told her that she had been a +refuge to her in a raging storm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, +Banty was feeling her way towards the real Refuge. But, though learning +lessons of patience and endurance, and dimly seeing as 'through a glass +darkly' the glories of the new world opening to her soul, Banty did not +always exercise self-denial in her dealings with her friend. + +Joan had come to her help in a dark hour; then it was Joan's purpose in +life at present to continue that help and come to her aid at any time. +When fits of depression seized her, she sent for Joan. When she had +been cross and unreasonable to those around her, and was in a contrite, +repentant mood, Joan must come and be her father confessor, and make +peace with those she had vexed and hurt. When the hunt was meeting +in the close vicinity of the Hall, and she was driven frantic by the +hooting of the horn and the baying of the hounds, Joan must come up +immediately, and sit with her, and amuse and entertain her till she was +able to regain her fortitude and composure. And Joan rarely failed her; +but it was at the cost of much effort and self-denial on her part to +respond so willingly, and Cecil was very wroth at her prompt compliance +with Banty's unreasonable demands. + +Cecil herself, at home, was another unceasing trial to her sister. +She was angry with Banty for her selfishness, yet failed to see that +she, in her turn, was continually making demands upon Joan's time and +attention. She had her black moods of depression and contrariety, when +nothing would please or cheer her, and, as the weather became stormy +and cold, she would incessantly grumble at the English climate. + +One rainy afternoon, as dusk was falling, Joan came in from a visit to +the Hall to find Cecil crouched by a dying fire in the drawing-room, +looking the picture of woe. + +"My dear, what a miserable room!" Joan said brightly, shaking up some +untidy cushions on the couch with much energy and then stirring the +fire. "Why, you look blue with cold! And you have let the fire nearly +out. Have you been asleep?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I have rung three times for coal. I never saw +such servants, and Sophia had the impertinence to put her head in at +the door and tell me I ought to have made the coal-scuttle last till +tea-time! She said she was in the middle of making a cake, and if I +wanted more coal, I could get some logs from the wood cupboard! I +really wonder you don't give her notice to leave. She's getting quite +unbearable." + +"I would as soon think of asking Dad to leave!" said Joan, laughing. +"Sophia is always cross on her cake days, and Maggie has gone out. Her +mother is ill and wants her. I'll go and get some wood." + +She was out of the room and back again in a minute. Cecil went on +grumbling. + +"I've a great mind to apply for a post as companion to someone to get +away from home. I shall be ill if I stay on here longer. I must get +abroad. Why don't you help me, Joan? Tell Father I can't, and won't, +stay here all the winter. I never saw such a benighted place. We +haven't had a visitor inside the house for a fortnight, at least. My +bedroom wall is reeking with damp. Haven't you finished Mother's book +yet? If only you could get it done, Derrick says he will get it taken +by some publisher friend of his, and that will bring enough money in to +make it easy for me to go abroad." + +"I have so little time to write it, Cecil dear; but I am very nearly +at the end of it. I should like to sit down and write it now, but I +promised Father to do some accounts with him after tea. I think I'll +go out and bring the tea in myself. We won't wait for Sophia. You will +feel quite another being after it." + +Cecil listened to her singing under her breath as she went out to +the kitchen. It never entered her head to offer to help. She had a +headache; that was quite sufficient excuse to remain idle. + +When Joan came back, Cecil looked up at her. + +"Joan, you 'must' help me. You are so absorbed in Banty that you can +think of nobody else. I will and 'must' get away. You will have me +dying on your hands if I don't. I woke last night, and could hardly +breathe. I am getting back all my old breathlessness and my cough." + +Joan looked at her a little anxiously, but she could not see any +appearance of delicacy about her. + +"You fret yourself ill," she said. "I wish you would make up your mind +to get through a winter here. Be patient, and we will hope great things +from Mother's book." + +She made a mental resolve that she would work in her room at night. It +was the only opportunity she had for quiet. She was as anxious as Cecil +was that the book should be finished, but her days seemed too full for +any time to write. + + +For the next few weeks Joan kept this resolve. She came down to +breakfast in the morning with tired eyes and brain, but with a +lightened heart. The book was progressing. And then came the day when +it was packed off to Derrick. He did not keep them waiting long to hear +its fate. It was accepted. A few alterations were deemed necessary, and +Joan had a good deal of correspondence with the publisher over it. + +About the end of November she received the sum of fifty pounds for +advance royalties, and Cecil went joyfully to her father to demand +permission to go abroad. To her amazement, he refused. + +Mr. Adair was not a very strong-minded man, and very obstinate on some +points. Joan could not persuade him to give way. He had suffered too +much in the past from having his wife and daughter away when he could +not afford to send them. Now that Cecil was fairly strong, and had not +her mother to back her up, he considered that it would be weakness on +his part to give way to her. + +"I cannot afford it. You ought to be helping Joan at home. Everyone +tells me she is wearing herself out. Why should you expect this sum of +money to be spent on you? If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to Joan, +who has had all the labour of producing it. And there are still debts +of ours to be paid. Until I am actually free from debt, I will not +incur the fresh expense of sending you abroad." + +"If the money got by Mother's book is not spent according to her +wishes, it is abominable injustice!" said Cecil passionately. "You know +how she wished me to spend every winter abroad. It is why she commenced +to write, to earn money for our comfort there. And, if the money +belongs to Joan, I know she will give it to me gladly. When I am dead +and in my grave, you will reproach yourself. You're killing me fast." + +She flung herself out of the room, and went off to Joan. It was not +often she spoke so passionately to her father. He was much hurt and +indignant, and Joan had to receive the confidences of both, and try to +make peace between them. But she could not move her father from his +standpoint, nor alter his decision. Cecil raged and sulked by turns, +would not eat, and spent most of her days in bed. In despair, Joan +wrote to Lady Alicia. She saw that Cecil was making herself really ill, +and she hardly knew how to act for the best. + +In a few days she had Lady Alicia's reply, and it was astounding in its +force and brevity: + + "MY DEAREST JOAN,—Smooth the creases out of your brow. I have written +to your father and to Cecil by this same post. I leave for Nice this +day fortnight, and hope that Cecil will accompany me as my guest.—In +greatest haste, your loving godmother,— + + "ALICIA." + +Joan received this letter at the breakfast-table. Her father and she +were alone, and they looked up simultaneously at each other. He had +been reading his communication from Lady Alicia at the same time she +had been reading hers. + +"Well, Joan, the difficulty is solved. I am glad, for I was beginning +to dread these winter months for that refractory girl." + +"Isn't it noble of Lady Alicia? I am so delighted. I must go up and see +Cecil, and hear what she thinks of it." + +She slipped upstairs. Cecil was in bed; her breakfast-tray lay beside +her, but she was still heavy with sleep, and had not looked at her +letters. + +"Cecil, Cecil! Wake up! You can go abroad in a fortnight, if you like!" + +Cecil opened her eyes. She was generally very cross the first thing in +the morning, and had a great dislike to anyone entering her room before +she was up. Joan's smiling, eager face roused her. + +"What is the matter?" + +Joan pounced upon a letter lying upon her tray addressed in Lady +Alicia's handwriting. + +"Here! Read this, and you will have the news!" + +Cecil sat up in bed and took the letter. + +"I don't know why you are so excited. Can't you speak?" + +But Joan stood silent, letting the letter tell its own tale. + +Cecil did not show any excitement. She read the letter through very +calmly, and then handed it to Joan. + +"I suppose she has written to you, too? I dare say Father will object, +and I am not sure that I should like to go abroad with Lady Alicia. She +is rather prudish and dull. She says she's ordered to go by her doctor, +and must have a companion. Why doesn't she ask you? Does she expect me +to be a kind of maid to her? I shouldn't fancy that." + +"Well," said Joan, "if you don't jump at her kind offer, you mustn't +expect any more sympathy from me. I really think you ought to be +ashamed of yourself, Cecil!" + +Cecil laughed. Her good humour came back. + +"Of course I shall accept it," she said. "I would rather go with a +tinker than not at all. Does Father know?" + +"Yes; he is quite willing." + +Cecil attacked her breakfast with vigour. + +"It's rather short notice," she said. "I must get some things down from +town." + +"Now don't be running up bills! You always look nicely dressed, and +Lady Alicia is very simple and quiet herself." + +"I am not going to be a duplicate of Lady Alicia! How pleased you will +be to get rid of me!" + +Joan bent down and gave her a quick little kiss. "You know it is for +your sake. I am so glad." + +Cecil looked up at her with laughter in her eyes. "You're a trump, +Joan! But we do not fit together very well. You are always such a saint +that you provoke me to be a devil!" + +Joan looked at her gravely and a little tenderly. "Lady Alicia +considers you have the making of a fine woman in you." + +With which diplomatic remark she left the room. + + +The fortnight that ensued was a very busy time for both sisters. Cecil +did at times feel ashamed of herself when she saw how Joan slaved for +her, and the night before she left home she said to her: + +"I wonder you don't hate me, Joan! However much you may deny it, I know +that when I am gone, you and Father will settle down with the greatest +happiness and peace together. Sophia will thank Heaven she has seen +the last of me. There isn't a soul here who would care if they never +saw me again. I think it is this that makes me so bad tempered. Nobody +wants me or likes me. I feel I am a very big fly in the small pot of +ointment. The only one who really cared for me and wanted me is in her +grave!" + +"Oh, Cecil, you mustn't talk so! You don't know how I care, but you +don't encourage me to show you any affection, do you?" + +"No; I hate all that kind of thing. Some day, perhaps, I shall turn to +you for what I now seem to spurn. In my heart I know that your view of +life is the right one, and mine is wrong. But everything will have to +be taken from me before I shall be content with what you are. My health +and strength and powers of enjoyment will have to go before I can hope +to settle down into such a narrow groove." + +Joan did not speak; she felt tongue-tied. Her face showed how Cecil's +words distressed her. + +"Don't look so shocked. Perhaps Lady Alicia will work a wonderful +change in me. Who knows? I may come back to you a perfect miracle of +goodness and unselfishness. You can hope for it. Anyhow, you're a dear +old thing, and I'm very grateful for all you've been doing for me!" + +She put up her face for a kiss, and Joan had misty eyes as she gave it. +In spite of all her waywardness, Cecil did occupy a big place in her +heart. + + +When she had gone, the house seemed strangely silent and empty. Mr. +Adair openly expressed his relief at his younger daughter's absence; +and, as the days slipped by, Joan found that Banty and the parish more +than occupied her time and thoughts. + +Mrs. Adair's book was published in the new year, and it was a keen +pleasure to Mr. Adair as well as to Joan to read it through and +discuss every page of it. Banty received a copy. She was becoming a +great reader, and though, as a rule, her reading was of the lightest +description, she took the greatest interest in this special book. + +"I have been telling Father," she said to Joan, "that he had better get +you to finish our ridiculous Chronicles. Would you be above completing +Motty's leavings?" + +"I couldn't do it satisfactorily, I am afraid," said Joan. "Why don't +you try it yourself, Banty? It would be such an interest to you!" + +"It wouldn't be the smallest interest to me, except—" here her eyes +brightened—"to ferret out all the Gascoignes who followed the hounds." + +"Where is your cousin now?" + +"He is still hanging on the skirts of those rich Americans. If he +doesn't get engaged quickly to the girl, they will find him out, and it +will be all 'UP' with him." + +A few days afterwards, Banty told Joan that she had been looking over +the MSS. already written about their family. + +"Of course, I'm not a writer, and never shall be. Motty has put +together all the papers and letters connected with us up to 1700; so +he really has done the worst of it. And I have told father I will +string together some of the letters and papers since. It is only to put +them according to date, isn't it? I'm actually getting interested in +my great-grandfather. He kept a pack of hounds and wrote the raciest +letters to his lady love. In one he says 'I toasted you last night, and +found the port a sorry substitute for your sweet lips!' It sounds as +if he meant to drink them. I dare say his metaphor was mixed, like his +brains, at the time, for they say he was a hard drinker." + +Banty spoke with animation. Joan encouraged her all she could to +persevere in the task. + +"Your father will be so pleased if you can do it, Banty." + +"I shall want something to keep me going," said Banty. "I get a sick +longing to be on a horse again, Joan. It's all very well to talk of the +glories of the future world; but if I can't ride there, it won't be any +pleasure to me!" + +On the whole Banty was meeting her misfortune with great pluck and +fortitude. + +"I know you think the hunting-field a very poor place, Joan," she said +one day, "but I can tell you it gives you lessons in discipline and +self-control like nothing else. It teaches you to bear fatigue without +a whine, to take a few ugly bumps and tumbles as all in the day's work, +and to wait patiently half a day, if necessary, when the hounds can't +find. I've been well schooled in endurance all my life, and it helps me +not to pull a poor mouth now." + +As the spring came on, she grew wonderfully stronger, and could soon +walk about with the help of a stick. She refused to use a crutch, and +her nimbleness in moving surprised even the doctor. + +It was a very happy day for Joan when Banty asked her rather awkwardly +whether she would like her help in the Sunday school. + +"I'd like to do something. I can tell them what you've told me. If I'd +been taught by you as a child, what a saint I might have been!" + +Joan gladly gave her a class of boys, and Banty not only developed a +genius for managing them, but for interesting them; and she very soon +became quite enamoured of her work. + +Lady Gascoigne said rather pathetically to Joan: + +"That dreadful accident has given me a daughter of whom I am proud. I +was so afraid that she would be an unhappy, lifelong invalid. As it is, +she does more for me and her father now, with her one leg, than she +ever did with her two! And we never hear a complaint from her lips." +Which was great testimony for such a high spirited, wilful girl as +Banty had always been. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +HEART TO HEART + +IT was spring again, but Cecil was not back. Lady Alicia and she were +now doing the Italian lakes together, and Cecil's letters, though few +and far between, were very happy in tone. Joan's mind for the present +was at rest about her. Life was getting easier. The last of the back +debts was paid, and Joan felt that she could now hold her head up and +look the whole world in the face. She started out for a walk one day +with her terrier, in a very happy frame of mind. Her old, discontented +longings for a larger sphere of influence and work had left her. She +realised now that there were individuals all round her who were as +precious in their Creator's sight as those far-away, and she cheerfully +set to work to find out their various needs. The villagers loved +her. There was not a house which did not welcome her warmly, and men +and women besides the children learnt to confide to her all their +difficulties and troubles. + +Crossing the heath, she met an old shepherd who was a special friend of +hers, and for some minutes she stayed gossiping with him; then, going +across to a little knoll under some pines, she seated herself on a +fallen log, and, gazing down upon the smiling valleys below, she fell +into a reverie. + +Her thoughts took her back to Ireland. She had heard from Major +Armitage once or twice through the winter. He was still managing +his sister's estate, and the unsettled state of Ulster, with the +apprehension of civil war, was keeping them engrossed with their own +affairs. + +She was startled suddenly by the furious barking of her little terrier. +Looking up, she saw approaching her the object of her thoughts, and +she sprang to her feet with a little exclamation of astonishment and +pleasure. He shook hands with her with great energy. + +"Now, what a marvellous coincidence!" he said. "I had no idea I should +meet you out here, but my whole thoughts were with you, and I was +planning an interview with you." + +"But why plan?" said Joan, laughing. "You had only to walk up to the +rectory to receive a hearty welcome. I am astonished to see you. Have +you been over here long?" + +"I came last night. Some business with my tenants brought me. And I +came out this afternoon to get away from everybody." + +Joan was silent. She looked up at him, and then turned her eyes away, +for he was standing close to her, leaning against a tree trunk, and +his eyes told her why he wanted to see her. She tried to still the +throbbing in her heart and veins; she tried to keep a cool, clear head; +but she was mentally asking herself this one question over and over +again: + +"Does he care for me?" + +"I had to think matters out," he went on slowly. "As you know, I lived +in a world of dreams when I was here before. I lived upon one hope, +one idea; and when it was shattered, I wished I had been shattered +with it. I have been through my house this morning, and in every room +I sought to raise up the ghost of my vision; but it would not come. +And the strange part of it is that I would not welcome it if it did. I +buried it when I was here before; and time and reason have convinced +me that my heart and affection are free to offer to another. The past +is absolutely gone. You may think me fickle, but from the time I knew +that she was willing, and rightly willing, to cleave to the one she had +promised to love and live with, I never had any more desire to win her. + +"And now, Miss Adair, I come to you. I am conscious that my +circumstances and my past are against me; but as you are never out of +my thoughts by day or night, I thought you would let me tell you so. +I have come over from Ireland, not only to see my tenants, but to see +you. I don't want your friendship; I want something more; and I do ask +you not to answer quickly. I am afraid that you will feel I have no +right to ask you so soon, that I cannot care deeply enough; but I have +learnt to care for you so much that nothing else in the world seems +worth living for." + +Joan sat very still. Her heart wanted to answer him at once, her head +cautioned delay. How could she leave her father? She could not see a +way out. At last she looked up. + +Major Armitage was white and stern, his lips were set determinedly +together, but his eyes were almost wistful. He tried to smile as he met +her gaze. + +"Well!" he said with a quick-caught breath. "Do you see anything in +me worth your love? I don't myself, and I'm steeling myself to bear a +refusal." + +"Oh!" said Joan impulsively. "I can't give you that. I care too much +already. But I am thinking of my father." + +"Do you really care for me, Joan?" + +He bent over her eagerly, then took hold of both of her hands and drew +her gently up towards him. + +"Joan, if you care, as I care, no one on earth has a right to separate +us." + +Strong man as he was, he trembled with emotion; but Joan stood very +still with his arm round her. The moment to her was almost a sacred +one. Just for an instant her head rested on his broad shoulder. + +"No," she whispered; "they will not be able to." + +Then he bent his head, knowing that he had won her, and his lips +touched hers, sealing the compact. + +A few moments after, he and she were sitting together on the fallen +tree. His face was radiant with happiness; she was very quiet, but +deeply, enchantingly content. + +"Joan, Joan, have you cared about me long? Tell me when you first +thought anything about me?" + +"Oh," she said, "how can I say? I liked and admired you, and felt +intensely sorry for you from the very beginning. I was honoured by +your friendship; but I suppose when it really came home to me that my +heart had escaped out of my own keeping was when we were walking back +from that little church over the hills in Ireland. I felt I should like +nothing better than to go on walking with you for ever!" + +"And that was the night I wanted to speak to you. I tried to do so, if +you remember, but I felt I could not. I was so terribly afraid of being +repulsed, and I thought it was too soon. I funked putting my fate to +the test. I cannot believe in my good fortune even now." + +They talked on as lovers have done from time immemorial, and at last +Joan made a move. + +"I must go to Father. He will be wanting his tea. I don't know what to +do about telling him. He often says he hopes I shall marry; but I don't +know if he really means it." + +"May I come back with you?" + +"Of course." + +They found the rector pacing the drive. He was delighted to see Major +Armitage again. When Joan ran on into the house to make the tea, the +Major spoke. + +"Mr. Adair, I have come back because I could not keep away any longer. +I am afraid you may not welcome me so warmly when you know my errand. I +want to take away Joan from you." + +Mr. Adair drew in his breath. + +"Ah, dear! It has come at last, then!" + +"Will you give her to me?" + +"What does Joan say? But I need not ask. She is a good girl, Major—too +good to remain single all her life. I believe in women marrying; but I +shall be lost, quite lost, without her!" + +"We have not talked over matters yet," said Major Armitage +sympathetically; "but when I can leave my sister, I mean to come back +and live here. And if I did that, could not Joan still keep a good bit +of her parish work and still help you?" + +Mr. Adair's downcast face brightened at once. + +"Capital! You have your music, and Joan is too energetic to like a life +of ease without any work to keep her from rusting. I know this, Major, +there isn't a soul on earth I would like as a son-in-law better than +yourself. I know you will make my girl happy." + +He went straight into the drawing-room, where Joan sat over the tea +tray with hot cheeks and bright eyes, and patted her affectionately on +the shoulder. + +"I have been told, Joan dear, and I shall be glad in your happiness. I +know Major Armitage, and can trust you to him." + +Joan's eyes filled with sudden tears. + +"He is such a dear, I couldn't help losing my heart to him," she said. +Then, as her lover came into the room, she brushed her tears away and +smiled radiantly up into his face. + +They were a very happy little party, but Major Armitage did not stay +to dinner. He was expecting a visit from some of his tenants at six +o'clock, and had to be home to meet them. + +Joan walked down the drive with him when he went. + +"Will you come over my house with me to-morrow morning?" he asked her. +"I'll come and fetch you if I may." + +"I can't fling my duties to the winds," she said, looking up at him and +laughing. "I am going to the school to-morrow at ten, but at eleven I +shall be free." + +"Then I shall be here at eleven." + +At the gate, under the shadow of the old yew tree, he took her into his +arms again. + +"I can't believe you are going to belong to me," he said. "What a happy +man I shall be!" + +"I hope I shall bring happiness to you," she responded. "I want to do +it; I have always thought that you wanted a woman to look after you." + +He gave a quick little shake of his head. + +"That is not the view you ought to take. I am happy because I mean to +care for you and to wait upon you and to give you a good time. You have +always been so busy looking after other people that you have never +given yourself a thought." + +Joan laughed softly. + +"I have hitherto gloried in my independence; but love alters +everything, does it not?" + +When he had left her, Joan leant her arms on the gate and watched him +out of sight, and then she raised her face to the evening sky. + + "Oh, God! I thank Thee. Bless us both, and make us blessings to one +another." + +Before she went to bed that night, she had a long talk with her father. + +Mr. Adair, though he still asserted stoutly that he was very pleased, +had great heart sinkings about the future; and Joan wisely made him +voice his fears. + +"I will not leave you, Dad dear, until the way seems easy. Sophia is a +host in herself, I know." + +"Oh, Sophia is a capital housekeeper," her father said hurriedly. "She +will make me comfortable, and I shall not wish selfishly to spoil your +life, my dear. It is the thought of Cecil reigning here in your stead +that appals me. I assure you it was an awful time when you were in +Ireland! If it were not for Cecil, I should jog on pretty well." + +"But, Father dear, if I marry, you must remember that we still live in +your parish. I shall hope to play the organ, and run the Sunday school, +and do all the club accounts. You will not be left without my help." + +Mr. Adair looked at her very gravely. + +"That is a comforting way of putting it; but remember, Joan, if a woman +marries, her husband and her household must and ought to be her first +interest. Never let your work come between your husband and yourself." + +Joan knew why he spoke so emphatically. + +"I don't think Major Armitage is a selfish man," she said musingly. "He +has lived so long without home comforts that he will not be exacting. +And he has resources in himself, and real work to do; for he considers +his music a gift given to him to use for the benefit of others. Oh, I +have already weighed it in my mind, and as long as you want my help in +the parish, I mean to give it to you." + +She sat up late that night writing to Cecil and Lady Alicia. + + +When Sophia heard the news, she was not so congratulatory as she might +have been. + +"Whatever will Mr. Derrick say? And I do hope, Miss Joan, that you +aren't getting a crank for a husband. There be no doubt about it as he +has behaved very strange. Certainly, M'ria says she has no complaints +to make after that death occurred. I suppose it did occur?" + +"I think I had better tell you the whole story, Sophia," said Joan +patiently. + +And when she had finished her account, Sophia gave a sniff. + +"Well, we must hope you'll be happy with him, but I consider a fancy +for another woman, even if it comes to nought, takes the bloom off a +man, so to speak. Now, Mr. Derrick has never altered from the time he +were a boy. 'Twas Miss Joan first and foremost, and there was none her +equal." + +"Mr. Derrick is a dear boy," said Joan; "but Major Armitage is—Oh, I +can't describe him, Sophia, but he is wound round my heart, and to be +in the same room with him thrills me through and through." + +Sophia could say no more. She looked at Joan in a pitying way, and when +she was left alone in her kitchen, muttered to herself: + +"It's a good thing for me that no man has ever made me thrill. Poor +Miss Joan be but a child, after all said and done, and 'tis to be hoped +she won't live to change her mind when 'tis too late!" + +The sun was shining full on the old weather-beaten house as Joan and +Major Armitage walked up to it the next morning. + +She looked at it with an absorbing interest. This was to be her future +home. How little she had thought when she stood there last that she +would be the means of bringing the waiting house to its fulfilment. + +She went back in thought to the words its owner had spoken: + +"My house and I wait." + +As they mounted the old stone steps, she glanced up at her lover. She +remembered his determination that no woman's foot should cross his +threshold till the one for whom he was waiting should come. For the +first time a touch of jealousy clouded her mind—jealousy lest the +remembrance of the woman who had formerly so obsessed him should recur +to him here and now. He was looking straight before him, and not at +her; but when they reached the big door, he paused, and then his eyes +met hers and the smile spread all over his stern, set face. + +"This is an unlucky house," he said. "Do you believe that the strength +of our love will break that spell?" + +Joan caught her breath, then light and colour swept into her face; +she slipped her arm into his. "Let me tell you something which has +just flashed into my mind before we go in. I know the superstition +about your house, that no luck will come to those living in it until +it reverts to the Rollestons. Do you know that Cecil and my mother +discovered that we are directly descended from one of the daughters of +this house, a certain Gertrude Rolleston?" + +"What an extraordinary coincidence! You must tell me the details. I +have the Rolleston genealogy in my library; we will look it up. But, +Joan, my dearest, there would be no spot on earth which would not be +sanctified and blessed by your presence!" + +Then very solemnly he raised his hat before he opened the door. + +"May the God who instituted marriage bless us both on the threshold of +our home, and lift up the light of His countenance upon us and give us +peace." + +After that Joan felt as if the stepping across the threshold was +a sacrament. Certainly, she assured herself, Major Armitage was +different from any other man in the world. And when she had crossed the +threshold, he stooped and kissed her. + +Maria came bustling across the hall to greet them. She was tremulous +with excitement and emotion. + +Joan shook her by the hand very warmly. + +"Eh, Miss Adair, this be a happy moment to me, and Sophia's loss will +be my gain!" + +"There!" said Major Armitage cheerily. "What prettier or truer speech +can you expect than that, Joan?" + +Then he led her up the stairs to the music-room. + +"I have laid the ghosts here," he said. Then, pointing to the +old-fashioned fireside, he added: + +"I used to dream as I sat there alone in the evenings that a woman in a +soft silk dress might one day sit opposite me and talk and laugh as I +smoked my pipe. But latterly that woman's face grew misty and finally +disappeared. Now I see it again, a fair, sweet face, the sweetest in +the world to me, with deep, true, tender blue eyes and a smile that +always brings two distracting dimples into play, and hair full of +sunshine. Don't stop me. I see her clasping her hands round her knee—it +is a way she has—and showing me by turns her eager, earnest soul, her +boundless patience and sympathy, her sweet, reverent faith in all that +touches the unseen world." + +"I must stop your rhapsody," said Joan, half laughing but much moved. +"My cheeks are hot with such flattery. Show me your piano and books." + +He did so, and then led her along the corridor to a locked door. He +unlocked it and showed her the dainty little boudoir, which had all +been renovated and cleaned and made fit for use. + +A shadow came into Joan's eyes as she looked at it. She felt almost as +a second wife might feel when being shown the belongings of the first. + +"You must tell me truly," she said, impulsively turning to him. "Does +this room remind you of the one for whom it was meant? I don't think I +could be happy here." + +He wheeled round, drew her out of the room and turned the key in the +lock. + +"Then you shall not have it," he said. "Joan, sweetest, I told you I +had laid my ghosts, but if they are there for you, I will dismantle the +room at once. There are plenty of others to choose from. Look! I shall +give you this one over the west wing; you will see the sunsets; and you +shall furnish it as you please." + +He drew her into a quaint octagonal room, with a window overlooking the +heath and distant hills. Joan knew she would love it the instant she +was inside, and she was content. + +Then they wandered through the rest of the house and made many plans. +When Joan eventually came away, she said to him: + +"I feel I shall be taking all and giving nothing." + +To which, of course, Major Armitage replied: + +"You are giving me the priceless gift of your own sweet self, the only +gift in this wide world that is worth anything to me!" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE LUCK OF ROLLESTON COURT + +THE neighbourhood was very much surprised when it heard the news. Banty +was too taken aback to congratulate Joan. + +"I didn't know you liked him," she said bluntly. "He has been so +unsociable and cranky that none of us has seen much of him. I hope +you'll get on with him, Joan. He isn't good enough for you." + +It was a trial to Joan to be constantly made aware of the fact of Major +Armitage's unpopularity. There is nothing a country village hates more +than reticence and exclusiveness. The poor consider that if anybody +shuts himself away from society, there is something to hide, and that +something is most likely criminal. The rich resent their overtures +of friendship being repulsed. Major Armitage himself was supremely +indifferent to it all, but for Joan's sake, he made an effort and +accepted an invitation to dine at the Hall. It was the beginning of a +little more sociable intercourse between himself and his neighbours, +and the fact of his engagement led many to make fresh endeavours to +know him. + +In due time, Joan received letters from Lady Alicia and from Cecil. + +Cecil's was characteristic of her. + + "MY DEAR JOAN,— + + "I suppose I must send congratulations. I have to readjust my estimate +of you. I should have said from my lifelong knowledge of you that you +would have cheerfully sacrificed yourself at duty's or Father's shrine +and refused to leave your sphere of work. But I am glad for your sake +that you have been sensible. I, of course, pity myself exceedingly. +Will Father expect me to slip into your shoes? They never did fit me, +and never will. But I am not home yet, and 'things may happen,' as we +used to say when we were small. I am much amused at you and the Major +coming together. Did I not propose it to you? I hope you will make him +less uncanny than he was. Of course, you have told him of our descent +from the Rollestons? You will bring back the luck to his house. He +ought to be very grateful to you for liking him. I wonder if you are +really in love. I can't imagine you! You are so sane, so wise, that it +does not seem to be your role. + + "Love, + + "Your affectionate sister, + + "CECIL." + + "P.S.—I have read this over, and it doesn't sound quite nice. I wonder +why? But I can't gush over the engagement, for I don't know Major +Armitage. I can only wish you happiness." + +Joan's face became rather downcast as she read this. She did not know +that Cecil was sore and bitter since her broken engagement, and angry +with Joan in an unreasonable way for her present happiness. + +Lady Alicia's letter brought warmth and comfort at once. She allayed +the scruples that were always troubling Joan's sensitive conscience. + + "It is right, dear, that you should marry when you love, and when that +one, like Randal Armitage, is worthy of your love. Your father will +be far happier in feeling your future provided for and in seeing your +happiness. If you were to sacrifice all your future for the sake of +being for a few years a help to your father, the time would be certain +to come when you and he would regret it; and I think your circumstances +will be wonderfully favourable to you." + +Derrick also wrote to Joan. + + "DEAR OLD CHUM,— + + "Hearty congratulations is the conventional phrase, is it not? I +congratulate him on getting you, and for the rest—well, I don't bear +him malice, and if you're happy, that's the main thing. I'm going on +the Continent for a holiday. My respects to Dominie, and if I meet the +Malingerer, will let you know how she is faring. Adieu. + + "Yours, + + "DERRICK." + +"Poor Derrick!" sighed Joan. "How I hope he will forget and marry!" + +Yet, though she said this, it was a tremendous shock to her, a month +later, to get another letter from Cecil. + +"I suppose," she wrote, "your engagement made me restless and +unsettled. We are now at Lucerne, and, to our amazement, one day +Derrick walked in. As he has always been one of the family, he and I +went about a good bit together. We have talked you and the village +threadbare, and at last, as we had nothing else to do, we made up our +minds that we would try to follow your example. You see, he and I have +both been foiled in our first experience, so we can feel for each +other. He knows I am not domesticated; but I feel I could run a London +flat and make it a success. And we don't jar on each other. In fact, I +have a wonderful sense of rest in his company. I know I could help him +in his work, and am determined that he shall be an M.P. very soon, and +later on Prime Minister at least. Well, all this rigmarole means that +we're engaged, and as we've known each other all our lives, we mean to +marry straight away. I could not face wedding bells in Old Bellerton +village. Lady Alicia is a trump; she has been as anxious as a mother +over us. She talked to him and talked to me, and warned us not to be in +such haste. But we've got her on our side now, so make your mind easy +over us. Derrick will like to hear what your views are about our match. +Write him one of your nicest letters." + +Joan went to her father, who was as astonished as she and very +delighted. + +Joan herself was honestly and deeply thankful. At first she was +almost afraid that both of them were plunging into matrimony more +from expediency than from real love or liking for each other; yet she +remembered how Derrick had always admired Cecil's dainty grace and +beauty, and though he had teased her unmercifully, Cecil had never +resented it, but invariably showed the best side of her nature to him. + +But the speedy marriage made her anxious; and she thought Cecil's +indifference to her home and her father a bad beginning for her married +life. Derrick wrote to Joan in a day or two. + + "I'm doing all there remains to be done. I have lost you for good. I +want to marry and settle down; and Cecil and I suit each other as well +as most people, and a good deal better. The Malingerer has died; in her +stead is an exceedingly beautiful and attractive woman. I shall be the +model husband, and she will daily be moulded to my will. Joking apart, +we are going to be happy; but I always and for ever intend to remain,— + + "Your old chum, + + "DERRICK." + +"I always wanted him as a son," said Mr. Adair, "but I hoped you would +marry him, Joan. Do you think Cecil will make his home happy?" + +"I am sure she will," said Joan stoutly. "Cecil has a heart and depths +which as yet have not been reached. She will develop as a married +woman." + +Cecil's marriage was the means of postponing Joan's. She was not in +haste to leave her home, and Major Armitage felt obliged to go over to +Ireland to his sister again. He much wanted Joan to accompany him, but +she steadfastly refused. + +"My father wants me. I will not leave him yet." + + +The summer slipped by. In the middle of it, Cecil and Derrick came for +a visit, and the visit was a complete success. + +All Cecil's old irritability and laziness seemed to have disappeared. +She was full of the little flat in town which was going to be their +home. She was gentle and considerate to her father, very affectionate +to Joan. + +And one day she told her, with a burst of confidence, that she was +going to make religion a power in her life. + +"Derrick is really good, you know, though he never talks about it. And +Lady Alicia lived her religion every day, like you do. I am going to +read my Bible every day and say a prayer." + +"Oh, Cecil!" said Joan, half amused, half sad. "I hope you will get +farther than that." + +"I heard of Motty when we were staying in town," said Cecil, turning +the subject. "That American girl didn't marry him, and he has left them +and is touring round America with a spiritualist and his wife. He will +never keep at anything long. It's a great pity, for he has brains and +is a fascinating talker." + +"I am so thankful you did not marry him," said Joan. "I prayed that you +might not." + +"Oh, how wickedly unkind I should have thought you if I had known that +at the time. But it has all turned out for the best. Joan, my dear, +tell me truly, does your heart ever fail you as you think of settling +down in this small corner of the world for good and all? Won't it be an +awfully dull, monotonous life?" + +"I should have thought so once," Joan responded; "but I have learnt to +look at life differently. I suppose I used to long for power and the +sphere for using it, but I am content now. And you must remember I have +my writing, and my friends, and my parish work, and, last of all, my +husband. My life will be quite as full as yours." + +"Well, you must come up and see me when you want waking up; and I will +come and see you when I want peace and quiet." + +And that compact was made between them before Cecil left for town. + + +Two years have slipped by. + +It is a cold, frosty day in December. + +In a big easy chair by the fire in the music-room of Rolleston Court +sits Joan. There is a wonderfully soft and radiant look in her face +as she looks down upon a little bundle of clothes upon her knee. The +firelight flickers on tiny, helpless fingers clutching the air, and +as the mother bends her face lower and moves a Shetland shawl, a pair +of big blue eyes look expectantly up at her. Such a wee face, with a +round, sturdy chin and red, soft lips, and a brow that reminds her of +Randal. + +And then the door opens and in strides Major Armitage. Marriage has +erased the gloomy lines in his face and given him a spring in his walk, +an eagerness in his voice, and a free and upright carriage. He stoops +over Joan and gives her a kiss, inspects his son and heir, then sinks +into the other big chair on the opposite side of the hearth and heaves +a sigh of relief. The sparkle comes into his eyes as he glances across +at Joan. + +"I've been to the other side of the heath to see the new cottages. +Young Garton was there, and gave me somewhat sheepish thanks. I told +him he deserved to have a wife and home; and I told him, too, that I +had learnt the value of them. Joan, dearest, how few dreams come true +in life! Yet mine has. I have you there sitting opposite to me, ready +to comfort, to advise, or to—" + +"Scold," put in Joan with her dimpling smile. "And now here is a third +coming to demand our care and attention. Oh, Randal, I have been +thinking big thoughts this afternoon. What a wonderful thing motherhood +is! What an awful responsibility! This little creature in my arms now +occupying his position as a future citizen of our Empire, all his gifts +and powers, that will be for good or evil in his future life, wrapped +up dormant in his tiny brain. And we have the training of him, the +making of him. I want him to be a great man, strong, purposeful, pure, +honourable, and high principled." + +An interruption came. + +Banty, in her rough tweeds, walking with something of her old vigour, +though with a limp, entered the room. + +"I have interrupted a happy family party," she said brightly; "but I've +come to see my godson." + +Major Armitage pulled forward a chair for her. If his tête-à-tête with +his wife was brought abruptly to a conclusion, he was too courteous +a gentleman to allow his disappointment to be seen. Banty was always +welcome, and she knew it. + +After a little time, he left the women together and went off to the +smoking-room. Joan put the baby into Banty's arms, and the girl held +him with some delight and a little anxiety. + +"I'm not so used to nursing as you are," she said; "don't laugh at my +awkwardness. It seems so ridiculous to think of you with a child, Joan." + +"Does it? It seems the most natural thing in the world to me. And yet, +as I was saying just now, he will make a big difference in my life." + +"You won't have so much time for your writing or for the parish." + +"My parish work seems drifting away," said Joan. "My father told me +yesterday that he had hardly missed me since I was laid up, for you +have proved such a good substitute." + +Banty looked pleased. + +"It's all I have to do. It gives me the excuse of getting out of the +house. You're a lucky woman, Joan." + +Joan looked quickly at her. + +"What is at the back of that speech?" + +"Nothing. A wave of restless discontent takes possession of me +sometimes, when I think that I shall live on in this village all my +life, doing the same things and seeing the same people." + +"Yes, I know. I used to feel the same. I longed to be in the rush of +life; but I think I have learned to be content." + +"What did you want to do?" + +"To be the head of some big school or training college, where I could +train and influence the rising generation. That was my ideal when I +was at college and when I left it. I did get the offer of being senior +mistress in an important school, but I could not be spared. It was not +to be. You see, I wanted big things for myself, and was given small. I +have been trying to learn to be faithful in the little things of life." + +"I don't know about little things," said Banty musingly. "I think +you have done some big things amongst us. If you had not been here, +I should either have blown my brains out or have become a useless, +whining invalid. And a good many in the village owe you much. What +a change you have wrought in Major Armitage! You have a wonderful +influence with everyone with whom you come in contact." + +"We all have influence, Banty," Joan said quickly. "You have a great +many guests coming and going at your home. You can help others as you +say you have been helped. Yours is not a small life at all; and there +are the Chronicles!" + +Laughter was in her eyes as she added this. + +Banty smiled. + +"I'm beginning to have sympathy with Motty. They are endless, perfectly +endless! I go into the library and shut myself up there as a penance +when I have been cross to Mother or furious with my maid. I peg away +at them, and suppose they'll be finished some time; but it is not very +elevating work. I am not as proud of our family history as father is. +Oh, I am content, on the whole, Joan. But sometimes I look forward. An +old maid's life!" + +"My dear Banty, you are not upon the shelf yet." + +Banty laughed a little scoffingly. + +"Who would want to marry a cripple? And I don't think I shall ever be +taken with any man now. I feel a hundred years old sometimes, when I +see an otter hunt sweep by in the meadows below us, or hear the hounds. +And then—well, I come back to your verse, which you have practised to +such success. I wonder if I shall be helped to do so too. I believe I +shall." + +When Banty had left, and the nurse had come for the baby, Joan still +sat on in the firelight. In thought she was reviewing her life within +the past few years—the life of an ordinary girl in a country village. +Yet she would not now have had it different. She started when her +husband's voice sounded again in her ear. + +"Are you dreaming? Shall I play to you?" + +"Please." + +He went to a beautiful little organ worked by electricity, and the full +soft tones of an anthem of his own setting brought a wonderful hush and +peace to Joan's spirit. + + "The Lord thy God bare thee, as a man doth bear his son, in all the way +that ye went, until ye came into this place." + +And then he sang the words, and Joan joined him softly under her breath. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77651 *** diff --git a/77651-h/77651-h.htm b/77651-h/77651-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4085ac4 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/77651-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10499 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Joan's Handful │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} +h2 {font-size: 1.17em;} +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 485px; + } + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77651 ***</div> + +<p>Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</p> + +<p>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the +public domain.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image001" style="max-width: 33.8125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image001.jpg" alt="image001"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image002" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image002"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image002.jpg" alt="image002"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>SEATING HERSELF ON A FALLEN LOG, AND GAZING DOWN UPON</b><br> +<b>THE SMILING VALLEYS BELOW, JOAN FELL INTO A REVERIE.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h1>JOAN'S HANDFUL</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +BY<br> +</p> + +<p class="t1"> +AMY LE FEUVRE<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +Author of "Herself and Her Boy," "Four Gates," etc.<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +GOLDEN CROWN SERIES<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image003" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image003.jpg" alt="image003"> +</figure> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +PICKERING & INGLIS<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +14 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON, E.C.4<br> +229 BOTHWELL STREET, GLASGOW, C.2<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +GOLDEN CROWN LIBRARY<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> + 1 HERSELF AND HER BOY<br> + BY AMY LE FEUVRE<br> + <br> + 2 MINISTERING CHILDREN<br> + BY M. L. CHARLESWORTH<br> + <br> + 3 HER HUSBAND'S HOME<br> + BY EVELYN EVERETT GREEN<br> + <br> + 4 PEPPER & CO.<br> + BY ESTHER E. ENOCK<br> + <br> + S ELDWYTH'S CHOICE<br> + BY LAURA A. BARTER-SNOW<br> + <br> + 6 MARTYRLAND<br> + BY ROBERT SIMPSON<br> + <br> + 7 ANDY MAN<br> + BY AMY LE FEUVRE<br> + <br> + 8 THE BASKETMAKER'S SHOP<br> + BY M. L. CHARLESWORTH<br> + <br> + 9 FOUR GATES<br> + BY AMY LE FEUVRE<br> + <br> +10 URSULA<br> + BY LAURA A. BARTER-SNOW<br> + <br> +11 A MADCAP FAMILY<br> + BY AMY LE FEUVRE<br> + <br> +12 NORAH'S VICTORY<br> + BY LAURA A. BARTER-SNOW<br> + <br> +13 JOAN'S HANDFUL<br> + BY AMY LE FEUVRE<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> +Made and Printed in Great Britain<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>CHAPTER</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_1"> 1. THE PAINTER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_2"> 2. THE TRAVELLERS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_3"> 3. A BUSY DAY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_4"> 4. RECTORY LIFE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_5"> 5. RENUNCIATION</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_6"> 6. A MOTHER'S CONFIDENCES</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_7"> 7. THE MAJOR'S HOSPITALITY</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_8"> 8. AN ENCOUNTER WITH WILMOT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_9"> 9. JOAN'S GODMOTHER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_10">10. OFF TO THE RIVIERA</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_11">11. LITERARY ATTEMPTS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_12">12. TROUBLE AT ROLLESTON COURT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_13">13. A FATEFUL TELEGRAM</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_14">14. STRUGGLING IN THE NET</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_15">15. DERRICK TO THE RESCUE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_16">16. JOAN'S ILLNESS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_17">17. A VISIT TO IRELAND</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_18">18. THE CHURCH IN THE HILLS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_19">19. CECIL'S ENGAGEMENT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_20">20. BANTY'S ACCIDENT</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_21">21. A CHANCE FOR CECIL</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_22">22. HEART TO HEART</a></p> + +<p><a href="#Chapter_23">23. THE LUCK OF ROLLESTON COURT</a></p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +ILLUSTRATIONS.<br> +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +<a href="#Image002">SEATING HERSELF ON A FALLEN LOG, AND GAZING<br> +DOWN UPON THE SMILING VALLEYS BELOW, JOAN FELL<br> +INTO A REVERIE <em>Frontispiece</em><br> +</a> +<br> +<a href="#Image004">JOAN WENT DOWN ON HER KNEES BEFORE HER MOTHER<br> +IMPULSIVELY, AND TOOK HER HANDS IN HERS<br> +</a> +<br> +<a href="#Image005">JOAN AND BANTY CHATTED TOGETHER IN LIGHT-HEARTED<br> +FASHION WHEN THEY WERE SITTING DOWN<br> +WATCHING FOR THE KETTLE TO BOIL<br> +</a> +<br> +<a href="#Image006">SHE WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT AND PRAYER WHEN A<br> +WELL-KNOWN VOICE MADE JOAN START<br> +</a> +<br> +<a href="#Image007">JOAN HEARD A CHILD'S SHRILL CRY FOR HELP, AND<br> +LOOKING OUT UPON A ROCK CLOSE TO THE SEA, SHE<br> +SAW A SMALL FIGURE WAVING A HANDKERCHIEF<br> +</a> +</p> +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +"BETTER IS AN HANDFUL WITH QUIETNESS,<br> +THAN BOTH THE HANDS FULL<br> +WITH TRAVAIL AND VEXATION OF SPIRIT"<br> +<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">(ECCLES. iv. 6).</span><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +<b>JOAN'S HANDFUL</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE PAINTER</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AN October afternoon, bright and sunny; the touch of frost in the +previous night had only accentuated the vividness of colour in the +beech trees that surrounded Old Bellerton Rectory. In the cobbled +stone yard at the back was Joan Adair, busy with paint and paintbrush. +She had tucked her skirt up, and was enveloped in a huge white apron. +Her deep blue eyes were so intent upon her handiwork that she did +not notice the approach of a stalwart young man in a rough shooting +costume, who stood leaning against the stable door, and surveyed her +with amused appreciation.</p> + +<p>"Ahem!"</p> + +<p>Joan started. She turned a fresh fair face towards the onlooker. It was +a typical English face, not particularly beautiful, but essentially +bonny; and when she smiled, a dimple came and went in a most +distracting fashion. Her bright brown hair gleamed with gold, though at +present an old straw hat, with a crow's feather sticking up jauntily on +one side, concealed most of her glory.</p> + +<p>"Derrick! How like you! Have you dropped from the sky?"</p> + +<p>"Do I look like a cherub? No; I'm out for slaughter. See my gun? +Have had an invite to the Hall for a week to help old Jossy with his +pheasants. What on earth are you doing?"</p> + +<p>Joan waved her brush proudly. It was no sketch of autumn beauty which +occupied her clever fingers, but a very shabby little jingle which was +being liberally plastered with black and red paint.</p> + +<p>"Our chariot," she said laughing. "Oh, Derrick, I can't tell you how I +am revelling in the country! Every day here is too exquisite for words."</p> + +<p>"How is Dominie?"</p> + +<p>"He is as pleased as I am. We're as happy as the day is long; but +perhaps that does not say much, as the days are getting short now!"</p> + +<p>"I never knew the day that did not see you happy," said the young man. +"Is tea coming on? I've got a thirst which needs a drop of something, +and I know the Dominie won't give me a whisky and soda."</p> + +<p>"Go in and talk to him. I must finish my job. Shan't we look smart?"</p> + +<p>"You'll be taken for the Royal Mail. How fond you are of red! You +always were. Do you remember when your red frock was baptised with ink? +How you howled! Here, let me take a hand."</p> + +<p>He seized her brush. Joan stood and watched him.</p> + +<p>"Any crest to go on?"</p> + +<p>"You can paint Dad's name."</p> + +<p>Derrick did so; but when Joan looked over his shoulder she found +"Joan's a dear!" added in large letters.</p> + +<p>"Derrick, haven't you grown up yet?" Joan said severely.</p> + +<p>"I'm trying to," he said meekly.</p> + +<p>Then he threw down his brush, and she led the way into the house.</p> + +<p>It was one of those very old-fashioned English rectories which are +delightful to look at and to live in, if it were not for the thought +of repairs. A low, square, oak-panelled hall, dark, and with rather +a musty atmosphere; low, long sitting-rooms opening out of it, with +oak beams across the ceilings, and deep casement windows overlooking +a rather untidy and leaf-bestrewed garden. Pictures and books seemed +to cover all the walls, a few shelves of fragile old china lightened +the rather gloomy little drawing-room; but Derrick was led into the +rector's study, where Mr. Adair was immersed amongst his books. Here +there was a cheerful fire burning, and a square tea-table set by its +side. A copper kettle was singing away on the hob.</p> + +<p>"Dad, dear, here is one of your former pupils—the black sheep amongst +them."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair turned round and greeted the young man heartily.</p> + +<p>Joan's father was getting on in years, but he enjoyed excellent health. +His face was ruddy and cheerful and clean shaven; his white hair and +the stoop in his shoulders were the only signs of age.</p> + +<p>"I must wash my hands," said Joan. "We will have tea in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>She left the room humming a little song under her breath. A green +baize door opened at one end of the hall, and an elderly woman's face +appeared with rather an anxious look upon it.</p> + +<p>"Is it visitors, Miss Joan?"</p> + +<p>Joan laughed. Such a clear, happy laugh! Everyone smiled on hearing it, +and the old servant was no exception.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Derrick, Sophia! We will not make company of him."</p> + +<p>"I'll send in some buttered toast. I remember his liking for it."</p> + +<p>"Be careful with the butter," cautioned Joan, the dimple in her cheek +appearing as she ran lightly up the wide, shallow stairs. She made her +way along a passage till she opened the door of her room.</p> + +<p>It was very small, but it bore the characteristics of the +owner—whitewashed walls, white dimity bed-hangings, and white dimity +curtains in the wide casement window. The carpet was thin and +threadbare, but there was a chintz-covered easy chair by the window, +and a little table with books and writing materials upon it. A bowl +of late roses was on the window ledge over the small dressing-table, +and suspended from a mirror hanging on the wall was a bunch of fresh +lavender, and a bookcase on the opposite side was crowded with +well-worn, shabby books.</p> + +<p>It did not take Joan long to tidy herself, but just for one moment she +leant her elbows on her windowsill and gazed with far-seeing eyes over +the scene before her. An old lawn sloped down to a row of beech trees; +beyond, the fields rose up again till they met a belt of pines on the +horizon. Behind these pines the sun was already slowly sinking, sending +rosy rays across the dusky sky. Rooks were cawing in a rookery close +by, there was a smell of wood fires, and a slight whiff of hot bread +which delighted her senses.</p> + +<p>"What a haven it is!"</p> + +<p>Joan breathed the words; then a little shadow stole into her blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope they will be pleased—they must be!" A quick sigh escaped +her, then she made her way downstairs and re-entered the study like a +fresh breeze.</p> + +<p>Derrick glanced at her as she sat down and began making the tea. He was +three years her senior, and they had played together and learnt in this +old rectory as a boy and girl when his grandfather had been the rector +here, and Mr. Adair had been his curate and lived with his young family +in a whitewashed cottage at the entrance to the village.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair had gone to a busy town later on, and had taken pupils. +Derrick Colleton had gone to him there and renewed his acquaintance +with his old playmate. Then he had gone to Oxford, and thence had +drifted first into law, and then, not finding that satisfy either his +purse or his intellect, had taken a post as private secretary to a +member of the Cabinet. He had never lost his boyish spirits, and as his +humorous, twinkling eyes met Joan's, she laughed.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know your thoughts," she said.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think I'd tumble into such domesticity," he said. "Joan +of the inkpot and of midnight studies I remember—never Joan of the +tea-table!"</p> + +<p>"But Dad must have his tea," said Joan. "He and I have settled down +here together with infinite peace. I left Girton two years ago."</p> + +<p>"And where is Mrs. Adair? Still abroad with Cecil?"</p> + +<p>"They are coming home at the end of this week," Mr. Adair said quickly. +There was a light in his eye as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Derrick looked round the room, then out into the dusky garden.</p> + +<p>"It's so queer your coming back here after all these years. I see my +marks still upon that window shutter. I was shut and locked in here one +day by my grandfather. He rued his deed when he opened the door. My +knife had been busy on every bit of wood in the room!"</p> + +<p>"You were an awful little brat!" said Joan, her dimple appearing.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Adair gravely. "It is queer, I suppose, but very +mercifully ordained by God, I consider. Sir Joseph, by giving me the +living, has enabled us to be one united family again. I am sure this +bracing country air will be quite as good for Cecil as that of the +Swiss places in which she has been living, and the house will be far +more comfortable for my dear wife."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Derrick was casting his mind back to the +narrow terraced house in a dingy street in which the Adairs had lived +for the past ten years. He saw again Mrs. Adair moving about it in her +restless, preoccupied fashion, her graceful figure and dainty dress—a +strangely incongruous sight in that shabby house. He wondered if this +country rectory would be more to her liking.</p> + +<p>Then he turned to Joan.</p> + +<p>"How's the learning? I saw you had taken any amount of degrees and +honours. What good is it going to do you?"</p> + +<p>Joan's eyes flashed.</p> + +<p>"It has done me good. It has quickened and fed the mental part of me. +It has developed—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Pax! Don't flood me with your rhetoric. If you want to be pleasant +to your neighbours, let the past be buried deep. Your Girton knowledge +won't be wanted here."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to argue with you," said Joan suddenly, smiling. "You're +only a man. All men are dreadfully afraid of cultured women."</p> + +<p>"I shall never be afraid of you, Joan—never!"</p> + +<p>Sophia at this instant opened the door. She bore a plate of hot +buttered toast, and when Derrick saw her, he seized it from her and +wrung her by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Good old Sophia, you're going strong yet! And your toast is as balmy +as ever!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Derrick, I hope you're well."</p> + +<p>Sophia dropped an old-fashioned curtsy. She was evidently a privileged +servant, for she went on:</p> + +<p>"I knew your tea would be nothing without a bit of toast; and what the +boy is, that will be the man. I fancy you, sir, going through life and +looking for buttered toast and takin' it as your right—the right to +enjoy what other folks have worked to give you, which is, so to say, a +parable. Buttered toast comes to some quite easy, but 'tis not always +wise."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sophia, stop," said Joan, laughing. "Don't give us a treatise +on buttered toast. If you spoil Derrick, don't blame him for being +spoiled."</p> + +<p>Sophia edged towards the door. Looking over her shoulder, she said:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Derrick be one of fortune's favourites. He has never met +discipline yet."</p> + +<p>"There, Derrick! Sophia knows all about you."</p> + +<p>Derrick nodded.</p> + +<p>"Have you and Banty met yet?" he asked, munching his toast with much +appreciation.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan. "I have spoken to her after church. She is usually +out when I call. I know Lady Gascoigne best. She is always at home. +Banty and I are strangers; she has nothing left of the small girl I +used to know. She was a fat baby then."</p> + +<p>"Only a couple of years younger than yourself," said Derrick with a +laugh. "Banty is very good sport. She's as good a shot as her father, +which is saying a good deal. What do you think of the cousin living +with them? He's a queer fish if ever there was one!"</p> + +<p>"I haven't met him. He has been up in town. Does he live here? Lady +Gascoigne talks of him as if he is a kind of secretary or upper +servant. He's a Gascoigne, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"He's the son of a younger brother—Wilmot, his name is. He has +travelled a good bit, I believe, is mad over books, and old Jossy +is keeping him busy cataloguing his library and sorting out family +chronicles. It's the fashion nowadays to publish family reminiscences, +and I believe this fellow is trying to do it. He's too literary for me. +Those book fellows are always such self-assertive brutes; I longed to +pull his nose!"</p> + +<p>"By which I know he snubbed you," said Joan with her dimpling smile.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair had sat listening in silence; now he engaged Derrick's +attention by asking him questions about the glebe fields and various +other matters upon which he hoped he might be able to throw some light.</p> + +<p>Joan slipped away to finish her cart before darkness stopped her. +Derrick came out to her on his way back to the Hall.</p> + +<p>"So you're settling down into a country parson's daughter," he said. "I +heard you played the organ better than old Tabbs did. Had he chucked it +before you came?"</p> + +<p>"Was he the old schoolmaster? Yes; we have a modern schoolmistress now +who is practising hard to become organist. She has no idea of time, +unfortunately, which is funny, because of course she teaches part +singing in school. No, Derrick; I love it here, but I am not settling +down. Shall I tell you a secret?" She stood up, and a grave, earnest +look came into her face. "Yesterday I had the offer of a post in a +first-class high school which will bring me in from £150 to £200 a +year."</p> + +<p>"Good for you! But, oh, my dear Joan, don't you take to +schoolmistressing! You don't know how much better I like you in your +present setting!"</p> + +<p>"Being a man, that goes without saying," said Joan cheerfully. "But +I am panting for higher, wider interests. I don't want to let my +knowledge rust, and I love—I adore—imparting knowledge; they say I have +the knack of it. Some, you know, have the brains, but not the faculty +for teaching."</p> + +<p>"How can your father spare you?"</p> + +<p>"That is the rub! Of course he could not, unless Mother and Cecil are +here; but it would do Cecil such a lot of good to take my place and run +the parish. She wants an interest in life. She is so much stronger than +she thinks she is, and I dread her getting self-centred. Dad and I are +hopeful that they will settle down. We're going to do our very best to +make them like it. Oh, what am I saying? But you know us, Derrick; it's +no good hiding it from you."</p> + +<p>"Not a little bit!" said Derrick hastily. "But mark my words, your +mother is not old enough to settle down in this quiet spot. In your +heart you want to be up and away, and so will she. Your mother won't +fit into this part. I'll bet you ten quid she won't!"</p> + +<p>Joan put out her hand as if to ward off a blow.</p> + +<p>"Don't say it. Wait and see. Dad has been a new man since he came +here—so much brighter and more hopeful. He said to me last night: +'Please God your mother and I will spend our old age together here. It +is all I ask.'"</p> + +<p>Joan's voice shook, then she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Go away, Derrick; you're making me too communicative, only I know +you're as safe as a post! Here, give me a hand and push this into the +coachhouse. Have you seen our old pony? He is over twenty, I am told, +but he goes like steam. We bought the cart and harness from Dray Farm, +and they threw the pony in for an extra three pounds. Wanted a good +home for him, they said. I like those Drays."</p> + +<p>Derrick took hold of the cart and pushed her aside. Then for an +instant, he let his hand rest on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Joan, for auld lang syne, don't you leave poor Dominie in his old age! +He's worth more than brats of girls who don't know one teacher from +another."</p> + +<p>He gave her no time for reply, shouldered his gun, and vaulted clean +over the white gate that led out into the road. Then, waving his hat, +he cried:</p> + +<p>"If Jossy doesn't send you some of the pheasants that I help him to +bring down, I'll give the order to his keeper myself. Au revoir!"</p> + +<p>Joan stood for a moment leaning her arms on the gate and watching his +retreating figure in the dusk, then she gave a quick sigh and went +indoors.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE TRAVELLERS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>JOAN was having a busy day. Her mother and sister were expected that +afternoon. She had been up since daybreak; both she and her father were +nervously anxious that the old rectory should make a good impression +upon the travellers. With the assistance of the odd man, Joan had swept +and rolled the lawn and paths, tied up straggling chrysanthemums, +and brought a fair amount of order and tidiness into the sweet +old-fashioned garden.</p> + +<p>Sophia, after cleaning and scouring everything in the kitchen that she +could lay her hands upon, was now immersed in cooking. The house fairly +revelled in smells of hot cakes, hot tarts, hot bread, and a variety of +other indications that the oven was doing its work in a satisfactory +manner. Derrick had been as good as his word. A brace of pheasants +had arrived at two o'clock, and Sophia seized them with a cook's +delight. When Joan remonstrated, telling her they were too fresh, she +triumphantly showed her the label with the date attached.</p> + +<p>"Three days old, Miss Joan, and just what is wanted for the mistress. +The joint of beef will come in hot to-morrow and will eat cold on +Sunday."</p> + +<p>So Joan let her have her way. She herself was in every room, assisted +by the young housemaid; there were beds to make, linen and plate to +be brought out of store cupboards; fresh cushions, and curtains, and +tablecloths to take the place of shabby ones, flowers to be arranged, +brass to be brightened, furniture to be polished. By half-past three +in the afternoon Joan's feet were aching, but her heart dancing. As +she piled the wood logs on the drawing-room fire, and looked round the +dainty little home-like room, she said to herself, "Mother will fall in +love with it. We have never lived in such a sweet house before!"</p> + +<p>She had worked hard at the drawing-room. She had bought some faded +chintz curtains and hangings cheap at a country sale a few weeks +before, and her clever fingers had cut out and made covers for the +shabby, old, town furniture they had brought with them.</p> + +<p>Bowls of red and gold chrysanthemums brightened the dark corners; some +framed water-colours, the handiwork of Mrs. Adair when a girl, covered +the walls, which had been freshly hung with a delicate cream paper; the +high, narrow, white marble mantelpiece held a few choice bits of china, +and all the newest and brightest books filled the low bookcases in +the recesses on either side of the fireplace. Joan's work-basket, the +local paper, and some loose magazines on a small table gave a sense of +homeliness to the room.</p> + +<p>Joan pulled up two easy chairs to the fire; she rearranged the cushions +on the chintz couch; then she glanced out of the window, and saw her +father pacing up and down the gravel path. He was waiting for the +country fly which was to take him to the station to meet his wife. He +looked very bent and old, and leaned more on his stick than he had ever +done before; and yet she knew, although she could not see his face, +that his eyes were shining with hope and expectancy, that the wrinkles +were smoothed out upon his brow, that his soul was having one of the +happiest times in his life. They had had several home-comings of this +kind before, but never one under such favourable circumstances as this. +As Joan watched him, sudden tears filled her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, oh why are there so many unfulfilled desires!" she exclaimed +passionately. "Why are we such an ill-assorted family? Oh, God!"—And +her whole soul rose up in its breathless longing—"Oh, God, don't let +him be disappointed this time!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair, walking up and down with a smile upon his lips, was living +in the past. Step by step he was watching himself as a young man from +the time he went to his first curacy. How well he remembered the +beautiful old abbey church in which he was so fortunate as to find +himself! Would he ever forget the first time he was introduced by his +rector, at a little evening gathering, to old General Lovell and his +three beautiful and clever young daughters? He remembered now the +little thrill that ran through him when, after some conversation in +which the General did most of the talking and he the listening, he was +clapped heartily on the shoulder by the old soldier, with the words:</p> + +<p>"Quite glad to speak with a black coat or two; am sick of the red ones. +Come and see me, young fellow—come and dine with us to-morrow night!"</p> + +<p>How shyly and delightedly he had gone! How his simple soul was dazed at +first by the bright brilliance of the Misses Lovell, and then attracted +and then bewitched by the fascination of the one who always seemed to +understand him and to make allowances for his awkwardness! Cecilia +Lovell had been very good to him in those days.</p> + +<p>At first he had felt he was an outsider, a stranger in their set. The +Lovells had always been a race of soldiers, and very distinguished +ones. His forbears for centuries had been quiet churchmen, not very +clever, not very gifted, but men of simple gentle lives and unselfish +aims—perhaps of narrow prejudices and small, one-sided views. He could +not look at life as the Lovells did; they could not look at life as he +did. But Cecilia always seemed to fill the breach; and then, on one +unforgettable day, he had breathed in her ear the old, old question, +and, with shy averted face, she had given him his answer and the desire +of his heart.</p> + +<p>The old General had been delighted. His motherless daughters were both +a care and anxiety to him. Gout was troubling him. He was impatient +to go abroad and try a cure, so he pushed on the marriage, and in +three months' time, Cecilia Lovell became Mrs. Adair. Her father was +generous, and gave her a liberal allowance.</p> + +<p>In spite of a curate's pay, the young couple were very fairly +comfortable, until children began to arrive. Then John Adair gave up +his curacy for a better stipend, and settled in the white cottage in +Old Bellerton village. Two boys and two girls played with the orphan +grandson of the rector, and for a time life dealt gently with the +curate and his family. But Cecilia did not make a good curate's wife; +she had an impatient intolerance of a small village life, and never +rested till she got her husband to one of the large Midland towns.</p> + +<p>The rector looked back to his life there with regret that he had +not been able to make his wife happy and content in the work which +he loved. He was a simple man, and not a clever one; he read only +theology; his wife's broader culture puzzled and distressed him. She +made no secret of her dislike to the parishioners, and when her elder +boy developed delicacy in one of his lungs, she took him for months at +a time to her old home in the south.</p> + +<p>Gradually she stayed less and less with her husband. An elderly +governess taught the girls and looked after the house when she was +away. Then the boys were placed at school. Their mother's idea was for +them to enter the Army; her husband objected because of expense, and +because he was a man of peace and had a horror of war.</p> + +<p>Eventually the elder passed into Sandhurst, went out to India, and died +of enteric six months afterwards. The younger one was now his mother's +hope. But he developed the same delicacy of lung when nineteen, and +though his mother, helped by her father, was able to take him out to +Davos, he died of a rapid decline.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair returned to her husband and girls like a woman without heart +and hope. Joan was always strong, but Cecil was as delicate-looking as +the boys had been, and, nervously fearing she would go the same way, +Mrs. Adair took her continually to Switzerland and to the Riviera by +turns. The taste for continental life crept into her veins; she rarely +was at home for more than three months in the year, and though doctors +assured her that Cecil's lungs were absolutely sound, she refused to +believe them.</p> + +<p>The death of General Lovell made it easier for her to gratify her love +for sunny climes and dry, bracing air. But she had never been able to +economise, and John Adair had the greatest difficulty in sending her +as much money as she wanted. To ease the strain, he took pupils and +coached them for college.</p> + +<p>When Joan's education was nearly finished, her godmother, Lady Alicia +Fairchild, a lifelong friend of her mother's, determined to give her +a chance of making an independent career. She was brilliantly clever, +and her governess could teach her nothing more. So Lady Alicia sent +her to Girton, and she had worked hard and successfully there. Then, +at twenty-two, she came back to her father, and took the household +reins into her hands. She did not anticipate staying at home, but +circumstances kept her there. The old governess had left, and the house +was sadly needing a mistress.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair got the offer of his present living, and then Joan threw +her heart and soul into the move. Mr. Adair had always been painfully +conscious that his wife could not adapt herself to the shabby terraced +house and the economical life of a poor parson. Now his heart swelled +with thankfulness. This living was worth £500 a year, and the rectory +was a roomy, comfortable house.</p> + +<p>As he paced up and down the gravel path, he felt that good times were +coming, that he and his wife would settle down in this quiet spot, and +draw closer together than ever they had done before. His loyalty and +admiration for his wife had never swerved. He knew she was impatient +and irritable at times; he could never forget one revelation which she +made to him in a moment of furious passion—and that was that she had +married him partly to please her father, partly out of pique, as the +man she really loved had jilted her; but in spite of this, he trusted +that time and his undying love would win her and compel her to come +closer to him.</p> + +<p>Joan's clear, keen insight showed her both her father's and mother's +point of view. Mrs. Adair was distinctly her husband's superior in +intellect; she tried, when young, to introduce him to a wider and a +higher level of thought, but a certain denseness, some obstinacy, and +the firm conviction that a man: and moreover a clergyman, could not +and ought not to let his wife dictate or attempt to teach him, made +all such attempts a dead failure. She now treated her husband with +good-natured indifference. Sometimes Joan felt angry at her mother's +attitude; sometimes she felt sorry for her. Now, her sympathies were +mostly with her father.</p> + +<p>When the fly arrived, she ran out, buttoned up his greatcoat for him, +and besought him not to wait about on the cold, draughty platform of +the little station.</p> + +<p>"Take care of yourself, Dad. I know you will be hours too early for the +train."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair had a horror of being late for anything, and his daughter +often told him laughingly that his waiting hours consumed a good many +days in the course of a twelvemonth.</p> + +<p>When the fly was off, Joan ran back into the house. Sophia came out of +the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Has the master gone? He be in a dreadful rumpus to-day, Miss Joan."</p> + +<p>Sophia had been with them all since they were children; her tongue was +never checked, for her heart was loyal and true.</p> + +<p>"I think you've been in the greatest fuss, Sophia. I've heard you +giving it unsparingly to poor Jenny."</p> + +<p>"She's just one of these shiftless girls, Miss Joan. It's terrible to +think of the children unborn, when their parents are such worthless +stuff."</p> + +<p>Joan's laugh rang out merrily.</p> + +<p>"You dear old soul! Go back to your kitchen. Thank goodness, I don't +worry over non-existent beings. And don't begin to talk to Jenny of her +children when she's still unmarried."</p> + +<p>"What do you take me for!" said Sophia, in a shocked tone. Then she +said: "Put on your pretty silk dress to-night, Miss Joan. Show the +mistress your best."</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head. "Not to-night. They'll be tired with travelling. +We shall all have our dinner and go to bed."</p> + +<p>Sophia disappeared. Joan went into the fire-lit drawing-room, and +surveyed herself for a moment in a long mirror there. She was clad in +a pale grey serge, rather Quakerish in style, with fine lace collar +and cuffs. It served to show off her golden-brown head and bright +colouring, but she shook her head at herself. "I always feel like a +milkmaid beside Cecil." Then she took some pink roses out of a bowl and +stuck them in her belt.</p> + +<p>It was four miles to the station. The time of waiting seemed long. Joan +could neither read nor work; but at length the carriage wheels were +heard, and the next moment, Joan and the servants were out in the old +porch welcoming the tired travellers.</p> + +<p>Joan led her mother straight into the drawing-room, and undid her fur +cloak before the fire.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair looked about her, then held out her delicate, white hands +towards the fire and shivered.</p> + +<p>She was slim and very tall, a woman who was growing old gracefully, and +more beautiful now than either of her daughters. Her snow-white hair, +clustering round her brow, seemed to soften the rather hard-cut contour +of her face. Her blue eyes were almost as deep and bright as Joan's, +though her dark brows and lashes made them more severe. When she smiled +at people, she could make them do anything, but she was hardly smiling +now.</p> + +<p>"We have had a cold journey. Cecil is very tired. We slept the night in +town. Of course, we could not come right through. London welcomed us, +as usual, with a thick fog. And you seem bitterly cold down here."</p> + +<p>"It's very healthy; we are on high ground."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know, my dear Joan, I know. I have not forgotten the terribly +long winters, when fires were a scarcity and it was doubtful whether +one was justified in buying warm gloves for all the tiny chilblained +hands. Your father speaks as if it is a new neighbourhood to which we +are coming. He forgets that I know every inch of every road only too +well."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you remember this room?"</p> + +<p>Joan determined to be cheerful.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair looked round it in a critical sort of way.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I give you credit for improving its looks. The poor curate's wife +was invited sometimes up to dinner, and sorely was she bored as she sat +in this room receiving good advice from the rector's wife!"</p> + +<p>Then she smiled sadly.</p> + +<p>"Don't torture me with recollections, Joan dear. When I was last here, +I had my boys. It cannot be otherwise than sad, returning to this part."</p> + +<p>Joan's hopes sank. She felt she had no heart to show her mother over +the house. Was it a mistake coming back to the place which held such +unpleasant memories for her?</p> + +<p>And then through the door came Cecil, like a flash of light.</p> + +<p>"Is Mother here? Oh, what a dear, wee, cosy room! Sophia has given me +two smacking kisses, Mother, and Jenny—is that her name?—looked as if +she were going to follow suit. I tried to freeze her, but I haven't the +inches. Joan, you look blooming! My feet are like ice. How nice it is +to be home."</p> + +<p>Cecil had drawn a low chair up to the fire as she talked, and was now +untying her shoes. Slipping them off, she held out silk-clad feet to +the fire.</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head at her. "Of course you're cold in such flimsy +stockings—open-work, too! I'll lend you a pair of my sensible ones if +you come upstairs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't stand thick stockings."</p> + +<p>Cecil spoke in the accents of a spoiled child. "Tell me when the +luggage is up," she said. "I'll toast myself here meanwhile."</p> + +<p>Joan slipped away. Her father and Benson, the odd man, were struggling +in the hall with trunks, hat-boxes, portmanteaus, and every kind of +bundle and bag. Joan soon sorted out the light luggage, and made Jenny +help her in taking it up to the rooms. The trunks were gradually +brought up by the flyman and Benson. When the hall was clear, Mr. Adair +went into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Welcome home, my dear!" he said, stepping forward and kissing his +wife. Then, patting her shoulder, he added, with the tactlessness of a +man, "And I'm hoping, please God, that you won't be wanting to run away +from your poor old husband, now that you have such a pretty home as +this."</p> + +<p>"My dear John," said Mrs. Adair, moving very slightly away from him, +"do you forget that our sojourn abroad has been by doctor's orders?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, my dear—of course I know. But little Cecil is getting +stronger, and our bracing heath and pines will be the very thing for +her."</p> + +<p>Cecil looked up at him from her seat by the fire and laughed. "I +believe, like Diogenes, you would be happy in a tub, Dad! I am sure +your letters led me to expect a mansion, a country seat! You see, I +never remembered the place; I was too small when we left. Mother tried +to prepare me. It's a duck of a place, and, for winter, very cosy, but +in summer, I should feel I couldn't breathe. The ceilings seem down on +one's head."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair glanced quickly and anxiously at her daughter as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"We must have the windows open," she said. "Do you feel this room +airless, Cecil? It is the contrast after our big rooms in the hotels."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right, Mother. Don't you worry. I'm too cold at present +to want anything but a hot fire. Dad, dear, would you mind bringing me +my handbag in the hall? I left my handkerchief in it. I'm so tired or I +would fetch it myself."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair left the room at once, and went upstairs to find the bag.</p> + +<p>Joan would not let him take it down again. "I'll do it, Dad, dear. +Cecil is a lazy monkey not to fetch it herself. You must not spoil her. +Dinner will be ready in half an hour. You will find hot water in your +room."</p> + +<p>"My dear Joan," said Mr. Adair, standing still in the passage, and +speaking in a dispirited tone, "they find the rooms too small and +airless!"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Joan, laughing.</p> + +<p>She ran downstairs, afraid to trust herself to say anything further. +She chatted gaily to her mother till she had seen her comfortably +established in her room upstairs. Then she went down to put final +touches on the dinner-table, and then she slipped into her black +evening dress.</p> + +<p>They all met in the quaint oak-raftered dining-room, a little later, in +better spirits.</p> + +<p>Sophia's soup, her pheasants, and her sweet omelette were beyond +reproach.</p> + +<p>When dessert was on the table, Joan pointed to the apples and pears in +triumph.</p> + +<p>"Out of our own orchard! We are self-supplying. All our vegetables, +chickens, eggs—and a fat pig to be made into bacon after Christmas—are +our very own. Isn't it delicious, Cecil?"</p> + +<p>"It's rather a change after that smoky, grimy Nuthampstead," said +Cecil. She leant back in her chair looking exceedingly pretty. She was +very slight and small, with an ivory pallor, dark eyes and hair, and +delicate features. To-night a faint rose blush was on her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"A regular little aristocrat from the top of her head to the soles of +her feet," Sophia said of her; and it was true.</p> + +<p>Cecil was a reproduction of Mrs. Adair's own mother, who had been a +very noted beauty at Court. Her clothes were never anything but dainty +in the extreme, though her mother and she had the good taste to dress +very quietly. To-night she had a simple blue crepon gown, with old +lace softening the bodice. Her dark hair was bound round with a silver +braid, but her neck and arms were white as the driven snow, and her +face was almost ethereal in its delicate beauty.</p> + +<p>Joan was rather silent. She let her mother do most of the talking. Mrs. +Adair had many amusing anecdotes to tell and talked of many people and +things.</p> + +<p>"It was so strange," she said. "We met General Long in town, and he +brought his son to see us. He is now a captain in the 12th Hussars, and +just home from India. They dined with us. It was interesting hearing +about India again. But Harry Long gave an alarming account of the +sedition about the Bengal district. He says it is simply seething with +an undercurrent of hatred to British rule. People make light of it and +refuse to believe it—just as in the days before the Indian Mutiny. I +suppose we shall go on making light of it until a crisis comes, and +then there will be a lot of unnecessary suffering and bloodshed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not," said Mr. Adair, looking across at his wife with +startled eyes. "I hope we shall not have another mutiny or war in +India. Mrs. White's son has just gone out to India. It would break the +poor old body's heart if anything happened to her boy."</p> + +<p>A little smile flitted across Mrs. Adair's face. "We will hope young +White will have his life preserved, my dear John. But there are a few +more English to be considered besides him in our Indian Empire?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—of course. War is horrible. May God preserve us from it; and +Indian wars always seem worse than those nearer home. How thankful we +must be that we have no sons out there!"</p> + +<p>Joan saw her mother wince and quiver as if someone had struck her +across the face. She stopped talking, and left the table almost +directly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair was perfectly oblivious that, as usual, he had blundered. He +sat on in the dining-room and smoked his pipe over the fire, smiling +happily to himself.</p> + +<p>"It's nice to have them home again. We shall be together now!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair and Cecil retired very early to rest, and Joan was nothing +loath to follow their example. She had had a tiring day, and foresaw a +good many tiring ones still to come.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A BUSY DAY</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE next day was Saturday, and if Joan had not had a fund of cheeriness +and good temper in herself and an unflinching amount of pluck and +patience, she would never have been able to get through it as happily +and easily as she did.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair breakfasted in bed. Cecil arrived downstairs at ten o'clock +and expected Joan to sit and talk to her whilst she dawdled over her +cup of tea and eggs and bacon.</p> + +<p>"What can you have to do? Let Jenny alone; you are always fussing after +her."</p> + +<p>"My dear Cecil, I am due at the schoolhouse to receive club money at +ten. I must fly. I expect you will be busy unpacking this morning, so +you won't miss me. I wonder if you would mind putting your breakfast +things together on a tray. This is a busy morning with us. I shall be +back in an hour's time. Do you think you could darn a hole in Dad's +surplice? The laundress has torn it in the wash."</p> + +<p>Cecil laughed a little.</p> + +<p>"You are determined to set me to work; but I think after our hard +travelling you might allow me a day's grace. I haven't even been shown +over the house yet."</p> + +<p>Joan was gone. Cecil saw her flying down the garden path, but she was +stopped at the gate by a small boy. Cecil wondered at the serene, +cheerful way in which Joan seemed to be talking to him. Then she went +on, but a little slower, for the small boy was trying to keep pace with +her. Cecil smiled to herself, then yawned.</p> + +<p>"I can't take the yoke upon me yet. I do hate the ways of a parson's +house! But I'll go and unpack, and I suppose I might put up my +breakfast things, though why that small Jenny can't come in and do it, +is past my comprehension."</p> + +<p>She gathered the crockery together, placed it on a tray, and actually +carried it out to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Sophia, as usual, was immersed in cooking, but her kitchen was +beautifully clean, and as tidy and bright as a new pin.</p> + +<p>"Here I am, you see, Sophia—back into the midst of the daily drudgery!"</p> + +<p>"And why should you not be?" demanded Sophia, rolling up the dough at +which she was Working with quick, deft hands, and looking up at Cecil +with her small, bright eyes. "Why should you not be here to bring a bit +of ease into the house by a pair of willing hands? 'Tis not right, Miss +Cecil, to make life a burden to Miss Joan."</p> + +<p>"Joan! She never feels anything a burden."</p> + +<p>"That's your mistake. What brings burdens into the world? 'Tis some +folks shifting their share of work to others' shoulders. If all did +their share, none would be overburdened."</p> + +<p>Cecil put her tray down and swung herself up lightly on the old +dresser, where she sat swinging her feet, ready to argue. She loved a +good argument with Sophia upon any subject.</p> + +<p>"But that is folly, Sophia; that is the mistake the Socialists make. +They want everyone to be equal. How can they be when some are weak and +some are strong? You want a dull, monotonous creation, which God did +not want, or He would have made it. You want everyone made after the +same pattern, with the same characters and dispositions, all taking the +same share of life's work. Imagine it! When a man who knows he can do +it, and has the ambition to bear big burdens comes along, he must never +want to do anything or bear anything more than his neighbour! Don't you +see what folly it would be?"</p> + +<p>"You may be clever with your tongue, Miss Cecil, but you're too clever +to let all your powers rust, and sit still with folded hands whilst +others wait on you. You may not be as strong as Miss Joan, but you be +quite strong enough to take those cups and plates into the back kitchen +and wash them. It's what Miss Joan would do, were she in your place."</p> + +<p>"But she isn't, and she never will be. And I live by principles of my +own, Sophia, and I never fold my hands, never! I don't know how to do +it. It's one of my principles never to interfere with anybody else's +business. I should say the washing up of these plates is Jenny's +business, is it not? Or is it yours? It certainly is not mine."</p> + +<p>She slipped down from the dresser and went out of the kitchen humming +gaily to herself.</p> + +<p>Sophia shook her head after her retreating figure.</p> + +<p>"She has been spoilt all her life, and is just becoming one of these +useless creatures which are a curse to them that begat them."</p> + +<p>Joan did not return to the house till nearly twelve.</p> + +<p>"I've been delayed. I had to go and see a sick woman," she said, +meeting her sister sauntering up and down the garden. "I generally go +into the church and clean the brasses at this time. Will you come with +me, Cecil? And if you were to pick a few flowers and bring with you, I +should be glad. Where is Mother?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Cecil, laughing; "she is preparing a sad sheaf of bills +for Dad. She wants to go through accounts with him as soon as she can. +He has kept us terribly short of money, Joan! I can't tell you how +awkward it has been!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Cecil, his bank balance is much overdrawn now. We have had +great expenses settling in here. Of course it will be better in time. +I do hope you and Mother will make a good long stay here now: You must +try and get her to do it. Then we shall pull round. It has been a great +strain on him to find the necessary money."</p> + +<p>Cecil did not answer, but she accompanied Joan into the church and put +a few flowers into the vases there, and a little bunch of autumn roses +on the grave of the late rector, whose widow had requested that it +might be done. Then they came back to the house and found their father +and mother deep in accounts in the study.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair came to the lunch table with a harassed look upon his face +and a little extra stoop from his shoulders. Mrs. Adair had flushed +cheeks and bright eyes. It was rather a silent meal. Joan and Cecil did +most of the talking.</p> + +<p>As the rector left the room after lunch, he said to his wife, with his +usual smiling face:</p> + +<p>"I am not to be seen on Saturday afternoons till tea-time. But you know +my parson's habits, my dear. If Cecil would like to take you for a +drive, we have the pony and jingle ready for your use. Joan, you'll be +having the choir practice at three, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded Joan; "we'll respect your sermon-making, Dad, and +won't come near you."</p> + +<p>"And you and I will finish and square up accounts on Monday," said the +rector, turning to his wife.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. I am not in a hurry, I assure you."</p> + +<p>They separated. Joan was conscious of disturbance in the atmosphere. +She went up to her room for a few minutes' quiet. She felt to-day as +if she could not overtake things. Her mother had asked her to come +and help her unpack. Sophia expected her to give out the linen to be +aired, Jenny was hopelessly behind with everything. It was a lovely +day, and apples ought to be picked in the orchard. The flowers in the +drawing-room and dining-room required to be freshened up.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she thought. "For six pairs of hands at least!"</p> + +<p>And then she sat down by her window.</p> + +<p>"I will not let my soul get chafed if I can help it!" she said.</p> + +<p>She drew a well-worn little Bible to her. The quiet and fresh coolness +of her room soothed her. She turned to her morning reading, the lesson +for the day. She had read it hastily when she rose that morning, but a +whiff of its fragrance had been with her ever since; and now she looked +at the verse again which had been simmering in her mind:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Strengthened with all might, according to His glorious power unto all +patience, and long-suffering with joyfulness."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she mused. "Patience, long-suffering, joyfulness—a strange +mixture, but just what I need!"</p> + +<p>A soft, happy glow came into her blue eyes. Joan's religion was real +and very precious to her; but she could not talk about it. For a moment +she closed her eyes, and her lips moved. Then a robin perched on her +window ledge outside and burst into his autumn song.</p> + +<p>Joan smiled happily as she got up from her seat.</p> + +<p>"And that small scamp hasn't the least idea how he is going to be fed +through the winter!"</p> + +<p>She sang under her breath as she went into her mother's room. For the +rest of the afternoon she was more than busy, but at tea-time she sat +down to enjoy a well-earned rest. They gathered in the low, quaint +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair asked that a cup of tea should be sent him. He was not a +clever man and sometimes found it very difficult not to repeat himself +from Sunday to Sunday. To-day he was nervously anxious that his sermon +should be appreciated by his intellectual wife. He sat looking over +some very old sermons of his, written with the fire and energy of +youth, if not with the mellowed experience of some of his later ones.</p> + +<p>And at length, he remembered a sermon he had preached in the abbey +church in which he had first seen his wife. He remembered two or three +people had complimented him upon it, General Lovell amongst the number. +He had never preached from the same text again. He looked over it, +then determined to take it and improve upon it, if he could. He had +a longing in the depths of his heart that his wife should appreciate +and express her appreciation of his preaching. She was not given to +church-going; she hardly ever attended the weekday services, and when +she was home, had a habit of going to see some of her many friends, and +staying with them for the week-end.</p> + +<p>Very carefully did the rector read over his old sermon. Very earnestly +did he pray, as he revised it, that it might not only be the means of +helping and blessing his flock, but in particular his wife and family.</p> + +<p>After tea, Joan produced a large work-basket.</p> + +<p>"You look like the mother of a family," laughed Cecil. She was sitting +on the hearth-rug doing nothing.</p> + +<p>Her mother was at an old-fashioned davenport writing letters.</p> + +<p>"The house linen is in a very ancient stage. Come, Cecil, help me. Here +is a thimble."</p> + +<p>"I know you are going to hand me over the surplice I would not do this +morning. Do you always go on like this, Joan? It is sordid drudgery. +You are just an upper servant in the house."</p> + +<p>"I won't quote a verse which I'm sure you know, about 'the trivial +round, the common task.' Things must be done, Cecil, dear. You would +not like to have come back to a dirty, untidy, uncared-for home."</p> + +<p>"It's rather a poor, shabby one," said Cecil discontentedly.</p> + +<p>She rubbed a slipper up and down the threadbare carpet and looked round +the room with a puckered brow.</p> + +<p>"That's unkind of you," said Joan good-humouredly. "If you only knew +how hard I worked to make you like it! And though we've been here such +a short time, I have already learnt to love it. You haven't seen its +beauties. I look out of my window and watch the sunsets behind that +belt of pines. They are tipped with gold, and their straight, pure pink +trunks are edged with crimson. The owls begin to hoot. Sometimes I +put a shawl over my head and go out on that little hillock of heather +at the back of our orchard, and when I have inhaled all the delicious +odour of pines and heather, I turn back into the house. Its quaint +rooms and passages, and the country smell in it is joy to me."</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I can hardly breathe here!" Cecil drew a long sigh, then +she coughed, shivered, and drew near to the fire. "I find it cold and +depressing. I'm not an out-of-door person like you. I don't revel in +open windows, and cold baths, and draughts all day long."</p> + +<p>"Have you caught a fresh cold Cecil?" Mrs. Adair showed that she was +not oblivious of the conversation going on. Her tone was anxious.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Cecil carelessly. "I'm much as usual. Is my bedroom fire +lighted yet, Joan? I think I'll go up and have a laze before dinner."</p> + +<p>Joan dropped her work and left the room. In a few minutes she came back.</p> + +<p>"It is lighted now, Cecil, and the room does not seem cold."</p> + +<p>Cecil nodded, then got up from the rug and went out.</p> + +<p>Joan took up her work again.</p> + +<p>Her mother left her writing and came to the fire.</p> + +<p>"I want to have a little talk with you, Joan. You seem like a +will-o'-the-wisp—in and out of the house a dozen times in an hour."</p> + +<p>"Saturday is a busy day, Mother; but I am quiet now."</p> + +<p>Joan looked up, and her blue eyes encountered her mother's dark, bright +ones fixed upon her.</p> + +<p>"I am writing to Lady Alicia; I had a letter from her to-day. She asks +me if you have snapped your links with college for good and for all, or +whether your career there has led to anything?"</p> + +<p>Joan darned away at the surplice, but her cheeks grew hot. She had not +meant to confide in her mother at present, but there seemed no help for +it now.</p> + +<p>"I have been offered the post of a teacher in a high school, Mother. It +is a good thing. I should begin with a hundred and fifty pounds a year."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Have you given your answer yet?"</p> + +<p>"No; I must in a week's time."</p> + +<p>"Do you want to take it up?"</p> + +<p>Joan's eyes gleamed.</p> + +<p>"I should love it above everything!" she said.</p> + +<p>"The idea is most distasteful to me," said Mrs. Adair. "But I know +girls do it nowadays. I suppose I ought to adapt my thoughts and +feelings to the times."</p> + +<p>"Of course," Joan said quickly and a little nervously, "I feel we could +not leave Dad alone now; but I hoped that perhaps Cecil would be strong +enough to stay here and help in the parish."</p> + +<p>"Cecil will never be strong enough for parish work," Mrs. Adair said +decidedly. "I am in continual anxiety over her. She looks as if a +breath of wind could carry her away. Our doctor at Cannes told me that +sunshine was absolutely essential to her. He advised Algiers this +winter, but I suppose it is impossible."</p> + +<p>"I believe she would be quite happy and well here," said Joan +desperately; "it is so very healthy, Mother."</p> + +<p>"I did not find it so when you were children," said Mrs. Adair +bitterly. "My memory takes me back to the biting east winds every +spring, and the struggle to keep the little ones warm and free from +colds and chilblains through the long winters. It laid the seeds of +disease in the boys, and made Cecil what she is at present."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother!" gasped Joan. "I had no idea you felt like this about it. +We ought not to have come."</p> + +<p>"Beggars cannot be choosers. It gives us an extra two hundred pounds a +year, and it is all right for you and your father."</p> + +<p>"Are you not—not going to try a winter here?" asked Joan falteringly.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it will be possible. In any case, Cecil cannot take your +place, and parish work is above and beyond me. I never ought to have +been a parson's wife, and that is the simple truth. The parish comes +before the home with your father. He told me that six months after we +were married. I, like the silly child I was, thought only of the cosy +home I was going to make and keep for him. The parish was of no account +in my eyes then."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair smiled, but there was a wistful sadness in her tone. Joan +looked at her and thought that she had never seen her mother look more +beautiful. As a little child she had adored her, but Mrs. Adair had +given most of her affection to the delicate little daughter, and not to +the healthy, rosy romp. Joan and her mother, in spite of intellectual +sympathies, had always lived apart from each other, and there was a +certain amount of constraint between them now.</p> + +<p>Yet Mrs. Adair had never been quite so confidential with Joan before. +The girl's warm heart quickened and glowed. She dropped her work and +went down on her knees before her mother impulsively. Taking her hands +in hers, she said:</p> + +<p>"Mother, dear, Dad is getting old. He may have made mistakes when he +was a young man, but one can't blame him for his enthusiasm for work. +Now he appreciates his home very much. If you could only have heard him +since he has been here! 'Joan, don't you think your mother will like +it? I have cut down that elm to give her a peep of the heath from her +window! She must like the space and room in this old, rambling house!' +Oh, Mother! His one desire has been that our home should contain us +all, as it used to long ago."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair looked into the glowing fire in front of her. She did not +withdraw her hands from Joan's clasp; but her voice came in its cold +frostiness like a cold water douche upon Joan's hot spirit.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you talk as if I am wilfully staying away from you from +mere caprice. Surely you know that it is Cecil's health that keeps us +abroad. I have not found fault with the house. I think you have done +wonders in it. Naturally the small, low rooms seem airless to us after +our lofty hotel rooms abroad, but you have done your best to make +them comfortable. And now there is another matter I must mention. You +are under-staffed. It is not possible to work a house of this size +comfortably with two maids. As Cecil says, you are wearing yourself +out doing the work of a servant half your days. And this little Jenny +is too young for her duties. Get a third maid as quickly as you can. +She will ease everyone all round. Sophia may know of some one locally; +she is a native of this place and had a large family of brothers and +sisters, if I remember rightly."</p> + +<p>"But," said Joan, going back to her chair and taking up her work again; +"I am not always in such a bustle as you have seen me. When Dad and I +are alone, we get along without a ripple. Of course, every extra person +makes a difference, and the extra fires, and the waiting, and the +novelty of it has rather turned Jenny's head and made her appear less +efficient than she really is. We have to economise just now, because +we have had such heavy expenses. Of course, if—if you are not going +away just yet—we can get extra help. You see, Mother, if I took this +post which is offered to me, I could give Dad some material help. It is +rather a puzzle to me how to act."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair was about to speak, when the door opened and the rector came +in rubbing his hands cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, Cecilia, dearest, it is delightful to come in and find you here. +I have earned a rest, I consider."</p> + +<p>He pulled up an easy chair to the fire, then leant over and patted +his wife's hand caressingly. "How is your baby? It's such a lovely +moonlight night. I'm hoping for a fine day to-morrow. Times have +altered since we were here before. I have only two services to take +in this village. Old Bradsbrook is worked from Nettleburn, so you see +I need no curate. I have never felt heartier in my life! And I really +believe both you and little Cecil will soon derive the greatest benefit +from our bracing air. Joan, the squire has just sent in another brace +of pheasants. Very kind of him, isn't it? You will like to renew your +acquaintance with Lady Gascoigne, will you not, Cecilia? You and she +always got on so well together."</p> + +<p>"Did we? I forget."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair rose from her chair and went across to her writing-table.</p> + +<p>"I must finish my letters," she said. "The post goes at seven, does it +not?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair's face fell. He dearly loved a chat between tea and dinner. +He and Joan generally talked over the village at this time, and told +each other any interesting bits of information which it had been their +lot to gather during the day. And he had been looking forward to a +firelight chat with his wife. He had so many things to tell her, and +somehow or other he had hardly seen her since she had arrived. For a +moment he sank back into his chair like an old man; then his natural +liking for country gossip could not be restrained.</p> + +<p>"Joan," he said in a husky, penetrating whisper, "Rolleston Court is +opened. Major Armitage returned two days ago."</p> + +<p>"Please don't whisper, John; it is so distracting. You won't disturb me +in the least if you talk."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair half turned in her chair as she spoke. Her husband +brightened up.</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear. You are clever enough to write, I know, and give +half an ear to my news at the same time."</p> + +<p>"And has Major Armitage brought back a wife with him, Dad?" Joan asked +with interest.</p> + +<p>"No; he is quite alone. Rather strange, isn't it? And it seems old +Mrs. Bone was officious enough to ask after his lady, and when she was +coming. He told her he had no lady coming, and dismissed her on the +spot. She is dreadfully put out. He paid her a month's wages, and said +she would not suit him. And now Sophia's widowed sister, Maria Bucke, +has been engaged by him. You remember the rivalry between her and Mrs. +Bone as to which should get the post as his housekeeper. Of course, +Maria is triumphant."</p> + +<p>"And Sophia will be delighted. But what a martinet he must be! Does +he think a country village will not talk when such dainty furniture +comes down by rail? Old Mrs. Bone told me herself that there is a most +exquisite little boudoir fitted up for a lady's use, even down to a +work-basket."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how you gossip!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair said it with her light laugh, and Joan joined her in the +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Major Armitage is the centre of our interest just now, Mother. After +shutting up the place all these years because he is too poor to live +there, he has come into money and has returned to it. He has spared no +money in doing it up. We quite expected he was going to be married."</p> + +<p>"We met him in Italy last year," said Mrs. Adair, letting her pen drop +between her fingers. "He is a great musician. I never enjoyed anything +so much in my life as listening to him playing in a little monastery +chapel out in the country. We were passing by, and it was like music +from another world. We were told afterwards who it was that was +playing. He is a peculiar man—very reserved—and as a rule will not go +into society. I suppose he felt leaving the Service very much. Was it +not blindness that made him do it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan. "Lady Gascoigne was talking about him the other day. +It was in the Boer War. They said he would lose his sight, and he sent +in his papers; and then, four years afterwards, a clever oculist cured +him completely."</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine what he will do with himself down here," said Mrs. +Adair. Then she went on with her writing.</p> + +<p>Joan and her father chatted on until the dressing bell for dinner +sounded.</p> + +<p>Both Mrs. Adair and Cecil went to bed very early.</p> + +<p>As Joan lay her head on her pillow, she went over again in her mind her +short talk with her mother.</p> + +<p>"It will break Dad's heart if they go off again! I wish—I wish—Oh, why +does marriage sometimes bring such a gulf between husband and wife? It +makes one dread it for oneself!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>RECTORY LIFE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>SUNDAY morning was bright and clear, but Mr. Adair came to breakfast +with a dejected air.</p> + +<p>"Your mother is not very well. She is staying in bed," he said to Joan.</p> + +<p>It was so like old times that Joan almost smiled. She was sorry for +her father, for he had set his heart on seeing his wife in church that +morning, and the disappointment was great. Joan was hurrying through +her morning duties, for Sunday school claimed her at ten, and she went +straight into church afterwards. As she was going out of the house, +Cecil came down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Are you coming to church?" Joan asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't feel much like it. Is the church warmed properly?"</p> + +<p>"As warm as a toast. Do come, Cecil. Dad will be so sorry if you don't."</p> + +<p>"Shall I see Major Armitage there?" Cecil asked, mischief in her eyes. +"I rather took a liking to him abroad. I was the only woman he would +speak to in the hotel."</p> + +<p>Joan's rather impatient spirit got the better of her. "You ought to be +ashamed of yourself. What is church for?"</p> + +<p>"To meet one's neighbours," said Cecil, provokingly, "and criticise +best hats and coats."</p> + +<p>Joan slammed the door after her.</p> + +<p>"She's as godless as a heathen!"</p> + +<p>But before she got to school, she was taking herself to task for +impatience.</p> + +<p>"I shall never win her if I am so hot-tempered. How badly I have begun +the day!"</p> + +<p>Her class soothed her. Joan was a born lover of children, and they all +adored her. When she went into church, and took her seat at the organ, +she forgot all her vexations. The little church was full, for Mr. Adair +was already winning the hearts of his people by his simple kindliness +and whole-hearted interest in every individual.</p> + +<p>Cecil came in late. She sat alone in the rectory seat, and hardly +hid her curiosity about the various members of the congregation. The +squire's large seat was full. Sir Joseph and Lady Gascoigne were most +regular in their attendance at church. Sir Joseph was the rector's +churchwarden. Their daughter Rose, or Banty as she was usually called, +was with them, also Wilmot Gascoigne, Derrick, and two other men who +had been asked down for shooting.</p> + +<p>Behind them sat the doctor's wife, a pretty little woman, with two +fascinating small boys. A maiden lady completed the circle of Old +Bellerton society; but following Cecil's entrance came Major Armitage. +He slipped into the last seat next the door, and was the first to leave +the church. Cecil's hopes of speaking to him were frustrated. She was +looking very pretty, dressed in a pale blue cloth coat and skirt and +black furs. When Derrick came up to her after church, she greeted him +warmly.</p> + +<p>"You haven't grown much," were his first words.</p> + +<p>"Don't make personal remarks, or I shall do the same. Do come back to +lunch with us. It is so dull. I feel I could talk to a pump, I'm so +bored."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't be bored if I lived in the same house as Joan!" He tried to +look severe, but failed.</p> + +<p>Then the Gascoignes came up. Derrick did not accept the invitation to +lunch, but he had a word aside with Joan.</p> + +<p>"How are things going? Are they humming?"</p> + +<p>Joan smiled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well—we've hardly shaken down yet."</p> + +<p>"Get the little malingerer to buckle to!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hush, Derrick! I won't have it."</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"She's a radiant picture of health and beauty."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan heartily. "I love to watch her. You know how I always +have admired Cecil, though I suppose, as she belongs to me, I ought not +to do it. I must speak to Mrs. Blount."</p> + +<p>She nodded to him and crossed the road to speak to the doctor's wife. +The boys, Harry and Alan, seized hold of her.</p> + +<p>"You told us you would show us where nuts grow!"</p> + +<p>"We're waiting for you to come out with us."</p> + +<p>"I can't do it yet," Joan told them.</p> + +<p>They hung upon her arms.</p> + +<p>"You must fix a day now. She must, Mums. She promised."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll try next Wednesday afternoon," Joan told them.</p> + +<p>They were pacified. Then Miss Borfield, who lived in a tiny cottage at +the end of the village, came up to talk to Joan of a sick girl in whom +she was interested.</p> + +<p>When she eventually reached home, she found her mother in the +drawing-room on the chintz couch.</p> + +<p>"I have one of my headaches, Joan. I won't come into the dining-room to +lunch. Send me something in here."</p> + +<p>Cecil was quiet and a little glum at luncheon. She was a girl of many +moods. When Joan asked her how she liked the Gascoignes, she said:</p> + +<p>"That Banty is simply a great cow! 'Do you hunt? Like to join our +hockey club? S'pose you don't shoot?' And when I had said 'no' to all +these queries, she turned her back on me."</p> + +<p>"She is rather awkward," said Joan, laughing. "But she is very +good-natured. I have met her once or twice striding over the heath +with her dogs. She loves Nature, and so do I; so we have that taste in +common."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice Major Armitage? He was like a man in a dream while you +were playing the voluntary. I know he was longing to do it himself."</p> + +<p>"Armitage," said Mr. Adair, rousing himself out of a fit of +abstraction. "He came to me in the vestry; asked if he might have +the key of the organ sometimes. I asked him if he was a good enough +musician to warrant my turning over our beautiful little organ to him, +but he seemed to think he was."</p> + +<p>"Really, Dad!" protested Joan. "You need not have put it so badly. But +I don't feel inclined to give him my key, for I am so often in the +church at odd times. The organ is becoming rather dear to me!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I have a duplicate in the vestry. I gave it to him on the +spot. I liked the man, and mean to call on him as soon as I can."</p> + +<p>Cecil brightened up.</p> + +<p>"Ask him to dinner, Dad. I like him too, and you know mother's weakness +for soldiers."</p> + +<p>Joan was off again to afternoon school after lunch. Cecil and her +mother spent the afternoon by the drawing-room fire. Neither of them +attended the evening service, and when Mr. Adair hoped to have a little +rest, and quiet talk with his wife after supper, she went up to bed.</p> + +<p>It was always the way. For years his wife had eluded his company, +though in public she was bright and engaging.</p> + +<p>On Monday came an invitation to dine at the Hall. But only one daughter +was asked, and Cecil pouted with discontent.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't want to go," Joan said good-temperedly. "You can take +my place, Cecil."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair wished to refuse.</p> + +<p>"These country people bore me so Sir Joseph's conversation is only on +sport, Lady Gascoigne's on needlework and servants."</p> + +<p>But her husband wanted her to go, and said so very emphatically. She +smiled at his eagerness, but gave way.</p> + +<p>"The position of a parson's wife is pitiful," she said to the girls +when her husband had left the room.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you become one?" laughed Cecil.</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," said Joan sympathetically; "but I think the +Gascoignes like people for themselves. They're too well bred to +patronise."</p> + +<p>Later that day Joan crossed the heath with her little terrier Bob; +she was going to see a sick person. As her feet trod the dead heather +underfoot, and she breathed the fresh keen pine-laden air, her spirits +rose. The day had been full of small pinpricks; the daily routine of a +quiet household had been upset; the rector and his wife had been having +long discussions over ways and means, and accounts generally brought +him distress of mind.</p> + +<p>At the back of Joan's thoughts, through everything that was said and +done, was, "Shall I be able to leave home?"</p> + +<p>She could not see the way out. Every fresh hour convinced her that +her place could not and would not be taken by Cecil. She was loth to +acknowledge it. Now as she lifted up her head and surveyed the wide +expanse above and around her, the words again came to her mind:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Strengthened with all might . . . unto all patience and long-suffering +with joyfulness."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I dare say," she mused; "that may be the life God has in store for me, +not out in the world doing the work which seems big in my short-sighted +eyes, but just the humdrum life at home which makes such demands on +one's patience. How glad I am that I can leave it to Him. If He closes +the outer gate, I can work within. And I will, oh! I will, if I can, do +it joyfully."</p> + +<p>Yet she wiped away some smarting tears as she walked.</p> + +<p>Presently she met Banty Gascoigne, who was also alone.</p> + +<p>Banty was a fresh-coloured, rather plain young person, and had that +slightly roughened and hardened look about her face that comes of being +continually out of doors.</p> + +<p>"Weatherproof and waterproof," she called herself. She had fair hair +and blue eyes, with rather a wide mouth and square chin. She was always +dressed in the severest tailor tweeds, and wore very short skirts.</p> + +<p>She waved her stick to Joan as she approached. Though they were not at +present very intimate friends, Banty was thoroughly unconventional.</p> + +<p>"I do like to meet a walker like myself," she said; "and you walk as if +you liked it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I do," said Joan; "it takes years off my life when I'm out +of doors."</p> + +<p>Banty laughed appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going? I am 'de trop' this afternoon. They had enough +guns without me, which was distinctly nasty of them; and mother has a +tea-party. I expect you wonder who can be at it, but it is three old +cousins who have motored over, and the Irwins from Chesterbrook; and +they're every one of them so Early Victorian that I am a fish out of +water; and they're, of course, shocked and disgusted with me."</p> + +<p>Joan explained her errand.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a bore to trudge out on such visits?"</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head happily.</p> + +<p>"You're a proper parson's daughter in principles; but you oughtn't to +have that dimple; it gives you a flighty look."</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry," Joan said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I'll walk a bit of the way with you," announced Banty. "Are you coming +to dinner with us?"</p> + +<p>"The family is. I dare say Cecil will come instead of me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; you were asked, and you must come. Derrick will be furious if +you don't."</p> + +<p>"That won't distress me," said Joan, laughing. Then she stood still for +a moment, watching a flock of curlews overhead.</p> + +<p>"Could you bring one of them down?" said Banty with gleaming eyes. "I +could, if I had my gun."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is the sense of skill in aim that pleases," said Joan, +looking at her thoughtfully; "it can't be shedding blood."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk like a Quaker! I thought you were a good sort! Derrick +swears you are."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence between the two; then Banty said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"I should die of the dumps if I were in your shoes, and yet you look so +jolly."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with my shoes? They fit me well." Then a quick +sigh escaped her. "Don't try to make me discontented; some people put +their feet into the wrong shoes, and then comes disaster. I think, +personally, I should like to exchange mine for a bigger pair. But if +it's not to be, it is not."</p> + +<p>"I only meant I couldn't stand pottering about the village and teaching +village children and visiting the sick."</p> + +<p>"Teaching is glorious!" said Joan with sudden enthusiasm. "There is +nothing equal to it. Fancy being able to take a hand in moulding or +forming a character. That is work that will last for an eternity."</p> + +<p>Banty stared at her. She always dropped a subject which she did not +understand, and she did so now.</p> + +<p>Then Joan began to talk about the country and dogs and horses. Banty +waxed eloquent at once. They talked and walked together, and when Banty +eventually turned back and Joan went on her way alone, Banty, for one, +determined to pursue the acquaintance already begun.</p> + +<p>An hour later Joan was returning in the dusk. As she was passing a +rather lonely group of pines her small terrier dashed forward, barking +furiously. She saw in the gloom a man's stooping figure, and as Bob +would not obey her call, she stepped over to see what was the matter. +She could not recognise the man in the dusk, but his voice was that of +a gentleman, and he was extricating his own dog from a gin. There was a +clump of gorse and brambles in which one had been set for rabbits.</p> + +<p>"Can I help at all?" Joan asked sympathetically. "I do hope he isn't +much hurt."</p> + +<p>"One of his legs, poor little brute. I don't think it is broken; but he +is awfully frightened. These confounded gins ought not to be set in the +open."</p> + +<p>"No; it is very wrong. I'm afraid it is some of the village boys."</p> + +<p>Then, seeing the poor little leg was bleeding, she took out her +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Do let me bind him up. I ought to be good at bandages, as I've passed +all the exams. in ambulance classes that I can."</p> + +<p>"I shall be much obliged. Men are always clumsier than women."</p> + +<p>Together they bent over the small dog, who had been snapping at +everybody and everything in his pain, but, once released, was now lying +exhausted and panting on the ground.</p> + +<p>Joan did not take long to bandage the wounded leg, and then advised his +master to bathe it well on reaching home. He thanked her courteously, +evidently did not want to accompany her to the village, for he turned +off at right angles, the dog in his arms; and Joan knew perfectly well +that there was no house in the direction which he took. She smiled to +herself.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if that was Major Armitage. I wish I could have +seen his face."</p> + +<p>When she reached home, she found Derrick making himself very agreeable +to Mrs. Adair and Cecil.</p> + +<p>"Ah, here you are!" he said, jumping up and bringing a low chair to the +fire. "Sit down and give an account of yourself. Your mother and I have +been hard on at politics. We don't agree, of course; but we've agreed +to differ. I wish I knew as much about our Constitution and its laws as +Mrs. Adair does."</p> + +<p>Joan sat down and told them about the stranger and his dog.</p> + +<p>"That's Armitage, right enough," said Derrick. "Old Jossy asked him to +shoot. He came out one day; not a bad shot, but a regular dumb dog. We +each had a try at him. He is too cussedly indifferent to us to open his +lips, and declines all invitations to meals. What is he making himself +into a hermit for, I'd like to know?"</p> + +<p>"Artistic temperament," said Cecil. "You must make allowances. Mother, +can't we call upon him? I want to see his house. I'm quite curious to +see it."</p> + +<p>"Your father will call," Mrs. Adair said.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you a fiver you won't get inside his door," Derrick said, +turning to Cecil.</p> + +<p>"Done!" said Cecil. "And I'll do it within this next week!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you will do anything that a lady ought not to do," Mrs. +Adair said very quietly; and then she took up a book, and the young +people chatted on.</p> + +<p>Joan began relating her visit to an old woman who had sent a message to +her that she wished to see her "very special."</p> + +<p>"''Tis me dyin' wishes, me dear,' she said to me when I got there, 'an' +if your mem'ry b'ain't bettern mine, you'd best write of it down.' So, +of course, I got pen and ink and prepared to do it in style.</p> + +<p>"''Tis short, me dear. Fust and last, me savin's, in me best chiny +teapot, must be spent on me grave, so's to spite Tom's nephews, which +be chucklin' over me departure. An' me monyment must be a tasty bit o' +stone what will attrac' the toury folk. 'Twill be comfortin' to think +on 'em hangin' over me wi' admirin' eyes; not to mention bein' the envy +o' that stuck-up Lizzie White, who did have a wooden cross with two +doves, and went an' whitewashed it ev'ry Sat'dy; an' all for a drinkin' +rascal who oughter be lyin' lowest of the low!' I tried to get her into +a better state of mind before I left."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt that," said Derrick, joining in Cecil's clear laugh; +"but I reckon you failed."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I did."</p> + +<p>Joan's laughing face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"What must it feel like to lie on a bed waiting for death?"</p> + +<p>"For mercy's sake, Joan, don't be so gruesome," said Cecil; "and don't +talk any more about your old women; we get so sick of them."</p> + +<p>"You're both to come to dinner on Thursday," announced Derrick, looking +at Joan very straightly. "Old Jossy has too many men, and I've come to +get another lady."</p> + +<p>"Lady Gascoigne has written to me," said Cecil. "I wrote a refusal +first, and then I tore it up. I want to see this Wilmot Gascoigne. Are +he and Banty going to make a match of it?"</p> + +<p>"Surely never!" ejaculated Derrick. "Why, Banty wouldn't touch him with +a pair of tongs; and he doesn't know she's in the universe. He's in the +clouds all his days. He reeks of fusty musty books and parchment, and +is a walking encyclopædia of the Gascoigne ancestors. Their present +descendants he regards as clods of earth. The only word he's spoken to +me was when he was watching us depart after the hunt breakfast last +week. He had been listening to Banty's conversation with one of her +hunting pals. I can't say she shone on that occasion; she never does in +conversation.</p> + +<p>"'Great Scott!' he ejaculated. 'And is that a specimen of a civilised +and educated woman? She's a brainless savage, and is living seventeen +or eighteen centuries too late!'"</p> + +<p>"What a nasty little man!" said Cecil.</p> + +<p>"His inches are not few, let me tell you. He tops me by a good many."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't sound pleasant," said Joan. "Banty is his own cousin, and +her parents are giving him a home."</p> + +<p>"He thinks no small beer of himself, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"I will reduce him, if I get a chance," said Cecil, nodding her head +determinedly.</p> + +<p>The talk went on till Derrick took his departure. Joan went off to +her father's study to discuss parish matters, and Cecil turned to her +mother a little plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Derrick seems to think Joan is overworked and I am a lazy malingerer."</p> + +<p>"Is Derrick's opinion of any value to you?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair shut up her book and looked down upon her daughter with +smiling tolerance.</p> + +<p>"I value everybody's liking," said Cecil thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"I think you are rather lazy," her mother said. "I wish you would +interest yourself more in the topics of the day. There is so much +to read and learn of what is taking place. We are all a part of our +Empire's history, and ought to have knowledge of the different currents +that form and make it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother, don't be prosy," said Cecil, a little impatiently. "I +dare say Banty and I are in the same category, only sport is her life, +and pleasure—society—is mine. I know I shall get hipped before long. I +can't think why father and Joan are so enchanted to live here. It is an +awful little hole. I can't breathe, and the grey cold is appalling!"</p> + +<p>"Are you not feeling well?"</p> + +<p>"I never feel fit in England. I hate the winters, and this poky little +village is worse than living in a town. Of course, the house is better. +It seems to me that even Joan is getting cramped in her ideas. She can +talk of nothing but the village."</p> + +<p>"It is a small life—a country parson's," her mother admitted; "but you +should occupy yourself with books."</p> + +<p>Cecil gave a little impatient sigh.</p> + +<p>"Joan is the good daughter and I'm the wicked one," she said; "and +father's happiness and content in his small sphere makes me feel +impatient with him."</p> + +<p>Her mother made no reply. Cecil often voiced her own discontent.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>RENUNCIATION</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE dinner at the Hall went off very well. Cecil was quite happy, +seated between Derrick and a young soldier, Captain Harry Clavering, +who took her in. Joan's lot was Wilmot Gascoigne. He was a tall, +intellectual-looking man, with dreamy eyes and a slight sarcastic +curl to his lips. But when he talked and smiled he was an attractive +personality. He certainly did not appear to despise women's society, +for he turned to Joan at once.</p> + +<p>"You are our organist, are you not? I have never had the chance before +of coming to near quarters with you, but I study your profile in +church."</p> + +<p>"How dreadful!" laughed Joan. "I hope you are not a physiognomist?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said audaciously; "but you are good to look at, and too +feminine in appearance to be a college student. I hear you were at +Girton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I wonder why men always imagine that the cultivation of the +intellect alters the sex of a woman?"</p> + +<p>"Please don't let us discuss any sex questions. They are so stale +nowadays."</p> + +<p>Joan would not be snubbed; but he suddenly plunged into the subject +of architecture as seen in the university colleges, and Joan, who was +devoted to that subject, forgot everything else. From the delicate fan +tracery in King's Chapel, Cambridge, they wandered off to continental +cathedrals, and Joan held her breath as she listened, entranced by his +clever and rapid talk. Then he came back to literature, and here Joan +could hold her ground. She and he were so absorbed in discussing Horace +Walpole's letters, as compared with Pope's, that their dinner was +forgotten. Joan could not say afterwards which courses she had taken +and which she had left. She only felt profound regret when the ladies +left the table. In the drawing-room Banty stalked up to her.</p> + +<p>"What on earth was Motty saying to you? He hasn't been so lively since +he's been with us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think he is so interesting," said Joan. "I envy you having +him in the house. He must be a mine of knowledge. I should be always +digging some of it out of him."</p> + +<p>"Why, he doesn't know a hen from a pheasant!" gasped Banty. "And would +as soon ride a cart horse as a hunter. He's simply impossible!"</p> + +<p>When the gentlemen came in, Joan was taken possession of by Derrick.</p> + +<p>"No," he said; "don't you cast sheep's eyes at old Motty. I've +introduced him to your mother, and they'll go ahead like a house +afire. I was ashamed to look at you at dinner. You were hanging on his +words like a fish on a hook. Just hang on mine like it, will you? It's +extraordinary what a gift of the gab will do."</p> + +<p>"You are so very mediocre," said Joan, smiling, and showing her dimple. +"I never feel with you that I can improve my opportunity. I learn +nothing by being in your society."</p> + +<p>"That is because you're so book-proud. Don't tell me you learnt +anything from Motty. He loves to pose as a literary swell; but I know +he reads up for conversation like mad. Because he impresses a certain +small, stodgy set in town, and fails to impress us, he thinks he +isn't appreciated down here; and he'd discourse with pleasure to an +open-mouthed goose if he thought that goose admired him."</p> + +<p>"Do you insinuate—"</p> + +<p>"I never insinuate. I hated to see his self-satisfied smirk and your +animated and fervent homage to his intellect."</p> + +<p>"How I wish you would grow up," said Joan.</p> + +<p>"I've heard that remark before. Aren't we all a scratch lot to-night?"</p> + +<p>He nodded towards a little circle round the fire, which contained Banty +and her father.</p> + +<p>"That's our hunting set," he said. "Cecil is trying to do the smart +town set. She has two of the most go-ahead chaps talking to her now. +Lady Gascoigne and those three dowagers are gossiping over that poor +chap who is shutting himself away from his kind. 'So wrong of him,' I +heard one of them say. She and her daughters run to earth every fresh +bachelor. Your mother and Motty are the literary clique."</p> + +<p>"And what are we?" asked Joan. "I don't think our conversation is very +uplifting at present."</p> + +<p>"Don't interrupt me. Your father and the Miss Grays and those two +parsons represent the clerical section; and you and I, Joan, we are +just chums."</p> + +<p>His glance down at her had something more than affection in it.</p> + +<p>Joan would not notice it, and she moved over to Lady Gascoigne, +deliberately avoiding Derrick for the rest of the evening.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair returned home with a great liking for Wilmot Gascoigne.</p> + +<p>"The first intelligent man I have met for a long time," she said. "I +suppose it sounds conceited of me to say so, but these country squires +are, as a rule, very slow-witted, and the clergy have minds as narrow +as their stipends."</p> + +<p>"My dear Cecilia," said her husband good-temperedly, "you are very +severe on the poor clergy, but I am glad you enjoyed yourself. I +thought you would. These social gatherings are very pleasant."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't get any innings with Motty, as they call him," said Cecil. +"But I suppose he will find his way round here, if you like him, +Mother."</p> + +<p>Joan said nothing. She felt that she would see little more of Wilmot +whilst her mother was interested in him. Mrs. Adair was a very +fascinating woman, and she knew it.</p> + +<p>Joan received a letter the next morning which sent her about her +household duties with an absent mind and clouded brow. It was to remind +her that there were other applicants waiting for the post which had +been offered her, and that she must delay no longer in sending her +reply.</p> + +<p>At luncheon the rector said in his genial way:</p> + +<p>"Cecilia, my dear, I want to have a small parish gathering soon—a +kind of house warming. I want my parishioners to know you; there are +farmers' wives scattered over the heath, and many who used to know us +in the old days. It would be nice to gather them together and make them +feel that we are their friends. Joan suggests Christmas, but that is a +long way off. What do you think about it? And do you think you could +manage to say a few words to them? You are so clever at expressing +yourself that I am sure you would not find it difficult. It would +please me very much if you would."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair slowly shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, John, I have never interfered with your province, and I have some +visits I must make to some of my own people. My brother in Edinburgh +has asked me to take Cecil there for a few weeks. It is a long time +since I have seen him, so I should like to go."</p> + +<p>"It is an expensive journey," said Mr. Adair in disconsolate tones; +"but we must postpone our gathering till you come back."</p> + +<p>"Pray don't think of such a thing. Joan and you are quite equal to +entertaining them. You know how I loathe parish functions of any sort!"</p> + +<p>There was a little silence. The rector was bitterly disappointed that +his wife was thinking of leaving him again so soon. In a few moments he +said:</p> + +<p>"I hoped, my dear, after your long sojourn abroad you were going to +settle down quietly here for the winter."</p> + +<p>"I am never going to give up seeing my own people."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair's tone was proud and cold.</p> + +<p>The rector heaved a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, a few weeks will soon pass; and we shall have you back +again."</p> + +<p>Then Joan spoke, though she knew it was an unpropitious moment.</p> + +<p>"I am wondering if I must decline this post of teaching that has been +offered me. I told you about it, Mother. It is a chance that may never +come to me again."</p> + +<p>"Your father and you must settle that together," said Mrs. Adair; "if +he can spare you, I have no objection to offer."</p> + +<p>"He must have one of us here," said Joan slowly.</p> + +<p>Cecil looked up laughing.</p> + +<p>"My dear Joan, there is tragedy in your tone. Be thankful that your +duties keep you here, instead of going out to earn your bread. You know +quite well that you are the only one of us that is cut out for parish +work. I should make a pretty hash of it if tried to step into your +shoes!"</p> + +<p>"Such a possibility is not to be considered," her mother said quickly +and a little sharply. "You have not the health to do it."</p> + +<p>Joan pushed back her chair and left the room abruptly. Her soul was +turbulent and rebellious. She went up to her little whitewashed room, +and sinking on her knees laid her hot head on the broad window ledge.</p> + +<p>"Oh, God! It is hard. Am I cut out for parish work? Has not my training +been for a wider sphere? Why should my talents be buried? An open door +before me, with a vista of influence and power, and—and success. Yes, +I know I could fill it. I know it is in me to mould, and organise, and +rule, and yet I must shut this door and turn my back on it. And Cecil +is doing nothing, absolutely nothing with her life. It would give her +a new lease of life if she left her health alone and thought of others +more. Oh, it is hard! It is unfair! I feel inclined to break away from +it all!"</p> + +<p>Hot tears rose to her eyes. She clenched her hands convulsively. Though +she had known instinctively she could not leave home, she had hoped +against hope that her circumstances might change. She could not bring +herself to write the necessary refusal, and knelt there battling with +her lifelong desires, and the duty that was crushing them into dust.</p> + +<p>But in about half an hour's time her brow smoothed, and the light +returned to her eyes. If joy was at present in abeyance, resignation +and content had become the victor.</p> + +<p>"I will be strong in patience, that is as far as I can see at present." +Then a twinkle shot into her eye. "Perhaps if I can't teach and rule on +this earth, I may do it in the Millennium!"</p> + +<p>She got out her writing-case and wrote her letter in a firm hand. After +she had sealed it, she sat looking out of her window.</p> + +<p>"A great renunciation," she said to herself; "and yet nobody will +believe it. Cecil laughs at the notion. But I have not done it very +willingly. Now I must look forward, and never back at it. That phase in +my life is over. Thank God, I can still impart knowledge, though of a +different kind, to my small Sunday scholars. And I dare say from above +it looks the highest class after all. What a lovely afternoon! I will +go and get the apples in."</p> + +<p>She ran lightly downstairs, and sang her way down the garden into +the orchard. Cecil heard her. She was in an easy chair before the +drawing-room fire, a novel in her hand.</p> + +<p>"What a happy creature Joan is," she said to her mother, who as usual +was at her writing-desk. "She is like father, easily satisfied in her +small surroundings."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair looked thoughtfully out into the garden. "I never have +understood Joan," she said, more to herself than to Cecil, "but the +present weighs more than the future in her calculations. Her apples at +this moment are the most important things in the world."</p> + +<p>When Joan and the odd man had finished their task, she came into the +house to find that Cecil had gone out, and her mother was lying down in +her room. The drawing-room fire was out; she ran into the kitchen and +sent Jenny in to relight it. Then Sophia, who was plucking a chicken, +detained her.</p> + +<p>"Sit you down, Miss Joan, I want a word with ye. There's no getting a +bit of talk with you these days."</p> + +<p>Joan dropped into a rocking chair by the fire.</p> + +<p>"I would like to sit here for an hour, Sophia. You have the knack of +making the kitchen the pleasantest place in the world. When I marry—if +ever I do—I shall live in my kitchen."</p> + +<p>"Stuff! We'll wish you a grand match, Miss Joan; may you be one of they +who gives orders only and has the staff to carry 'em out. Do ye know +where Miss Cecil be off to?"</p> + +<p>"No; where?"</p> + +<p>"She have taken a note from me to Maria. Aye, she would have it, she +be just wild to get into that house, so she tells me, and, Miss Joan, +'tis no house for a lady, and what is more, no lady is to cross the +threshold."</p> + +<p>"You sound very mysterious. What has Maria been telling you?"</p> + +<p>"A good deal not to be repeated. But I'll tell you this, Miss Joan, +Major Armitage be wrong in his head. There be no doubt of that."</p> + +<p>"Why do you think so?"</p> + +<p>"You'll keep a still tongue over it? I wouldn't let the mistress hear +it nor yet Miss Cecil. He be quite unkenny as the Scotch say. You must +know Maria do a lot of waitin' on him at times. She says at a certain +hour every afternoon in the gloaming—from six to seven—he sits in his +big room, the music-room he calls it, because of the big pianny, but +Maria calls it the library, for the walls be pretty well covered with +books. He takes a big chair by the fire, and he pulls another, a soft +ladyish cushioned one, which no one never sits on, opposite him, then +he smokes his pipe and he talks in a low tone which makes your blood +curdle, not all at once on end, Maria says, but just a word here an' +there, and a soft tender like whisper at times."</p> + +<p>Joan laughed at Sophia's awed face.</p> + +<p>"Why, lots of lonely people talk to themselves; I do very often when +I'm out walking."</p> + +<p>"Miss Joan, 'tis this way, and Maria says it as knows, he be talkin' to +someone not to be seen, 'a-sittin' in that chair!'"</p> + +<p>"Good gracious! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I be charitable and say the poor man be not right in his +head. There be people who might say he were temperin' and playin' +with spirits. Maria come in one evenin', and he never heard her, and +he leant across to the chair, and he says quite distinct, 'Will you +listen, sweet, and tell me how you like it?' And then he walks to the +pianny and he plays, Maria said, like an angel. And once he looks back +over his shoulder at the chair and smiles, such a smile as a man gives +the one he dotes on."</p> + +<p>Joan began to look interested.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Sophia, tell me more. But I don't think Maria ought to spy on +him."</p> + +<p>"'Twas by accident, but he have given orders that nobody disturbs him +from six to seven every night. And there be other things, Miss Joan. +He have told Maria that any gentlemen who call on him must be shown +into the smokin'-room, but no lady on any pretence whatever is to put +her foot over the threshold of the big front door. And he goes up to +the little boudoir which he keeps the key of himself, and he puts +fresh flowers every two or three days in it. But Maria dursn't ask a +question. Maybe the lady be dead, and he be keepin' communion with +her spirit, but 'tis a heathenish thing, and I think his poor mind be +disturbed."</p> + +<p>Joan did not answer.</p> + +<p>"So, Miss Joan," pursued Sophia, "I want you to keep Miss Cecil out of +his way, and you know what she always was like when a body wanted her +to do or not to do, so determined to do contrariwise. The less a young +lady has to do with such a man the better. Not but what Maria says +he be kind and considerate and sensible in all other ways. And he be +lookin' into his estate in the right sort of way, and talkin' friendly +with the tenants. But he must have a kink in his brain, or be in league +with spirits."</p> + +<p>"I wish you hadn't told me, Sophia. Maria ought not to have spied upon +him. His private life has nothing to do with us. You won't let this +gossip get about the village?"</p> + +<p>"Now what do you take me for? Don't I know that you're a safe person +to tell things to? But Miss Cecil may get in at the back door—she +certainly won't get in at the front."</p> + +<p>Joan got up from the chair on which she had been sitting.</p> + +<p>"I dare say Major Armitage is a child at heart, and was making believe +as I used to do! I won't believe anything 'unkenny' about him, Sophia."</p> + +<p>She met Cecil a little later coming in from the garden.</p> + +<p>"I've bearded the hermit in his den!" she cried out gaily. "I told +Derrick I would. I've been chatting in his kitchen, to Maria, who seems +gloomy and mysterious. The Major was out, but I met him walking up the +drive as I was coming away.</p> + +<p>"'I haven't been to call upon you,' I said to him, 'but to take a +message to your cook. Don't you remember me?'</p> + +<p>"Fancy, he had the impertinence to say that he did not! I reminded him +of the hotel abroad. He looked bored, lifted his hat and walked on. I +have never been so snubbed in my life."</p> + +<p>"I wish you hadn't gone," said Joan. "It puts you in a false position."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be so conventional! He wants to be taken out of himself."</p> + +<p>Then she sank down on a chair in the hall.</p> + +<p>"I'm tired to death. I hate the country, Joan! I haven't met a single +soul on the way there or back."</p> + +<p>Joan stood still and looked at her with a little impatience and some +tenderness in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said slowly, "what work you were meant to do when you +were sent into the world?"</p> + +<p>Cecil gazed at her in silence for a moment, then said:</p> + +<p>"You do say such prosy things. Work! Everybody is not made for work. I +am sure I wasn't. This life in a parsonage is nothing but work! You are +just a slave of the village, Joan."</p> + +<p>"It's happy slavery, then," said Joan, laughing, "for I'm getting to +love them all, and, when you love, slavery isn't in it."</p> + +<p>Cecil would vouchsafe no reply. She dragged herself up from her chair +and went into the drawing-room to her mother.</p> + +<p>Joan turned into her father's study. There was a good deal of parish +work to be discussed between them. She found him now with his head in +his hands, and his elbows on his writing-table, doing nothing. It was +such an unusual position for him that she wondered.</p> + +<p>"Are you asleep, Dad, dear?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair turned heavy eyes and anxious brow at the sound of her voice; +then his face cleared.</p> + +<p>"Not asleep. I wish I were," he said, trying to speak lightly. "I +am only thinking about ways and means, Joan. My pass book is not a +pleasant sight."</p> + +<p>Joan knelt down by his side and her tone was almost motherly.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry. We shall be better off soon. You have had such heavy +expenses coming here. We shall not have those again."</p> + +<p>He did not answer; then a heavy sigh escaped him. "Your mother means to +go abroad again in January. She told me so this morning."</p> + +<p>This was the cause of his depression. Joan could hardly trust herself +to speak.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she will change her mind before the time comes. We won't live +in the future, Dad, dear. Leave January to take care of itself."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you couldn't have a talk with her, Joan? Women understand +each other. I always seem to bungle. I really don't know how we can +afford it. I simply shall not have the money to send her this year. +I withdrew almost the last of my private capital last year. I have +been doing it for years, but that has come to an end, and if anything +happened to me, I should leave you utterly unprovided for. Your +mother's money could not support you. It is not nearly enough for +herself and for Cecil."</p> + +<p>"But I think and hope I could support myself," said Joan gently. "Don't +bother over that. We will hope that you will be spared to us for many a +long day yet."</p> + +<p>Then she added in a different tone:</p> + +<p>"I will try to have a talk with Mother again about it." She pressed +a light kiss on his forehead, then persisted in talking to him about +some of his parishioners, and for the time Mr. Adair laid his private +trouble aside. Yet when she was about to leave him, he called her back.</p> + +<p>"I hoped, Joan, my dear, I thought we had such a pretty, comfortable +home now—I am sure you have taken such pains in making it fresh and +home-like, I did think it would have been an inducement to your mother +to settle down here. And there are such nice friendly people round. I +have been wondering if we could not find some people who might take +Cecil abroad at a slight expense—I have heard of it being done—if she +would make herself useful to them, I mean, and then your mother would +not be obliged to go. She could stay at home with us."</p> + +<p>Joan almost smiled.</p> + +<p>"No, Dad, dear; Mother will never let Cecil leave her wing. I will talk +over things with her. But Mother is not dependent on house comfort. She +has so many other things in her life."</p> + +<p>"I thought a nice, pretty home would satisfy any woman," said Mr. +Adair, sighing; "I told your mother so."</p> + +<p>Joan tried to imagine her mother's feelings at hearing that sentiment. +But she had an overwhelming pity for her simple, kindly old father, and +when she left him, it was with tears rising in her eyes.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A MOTHER'S CONFIDENCES</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was not until the following day that Joan had an opportunity to talk +with her mother, and then, as she wanted some things which the village +could not produce, Joan drove her over to shop in the small town of +Coppleton.</p> + +<p>The little jingle did credit to Joan's painting, and the old pony +trotted briskly along. It was a lovely still October afternoon. The +woods were clothed in shimmering gold and brown, the sky was a pure +pale blue, and the dark slender pines stood out in silhouettes against +the horizon. A happy smile played about Joan's lips; she raised her +head, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Isn't it delicious air, Mother? It is so exhilarating."</p> + +<p>"I find it cold," Mrs. Adair said, drawing her fur cloak tightly round +her.</p> + +<p>Joan tucked the rug more completely over her knees.</p> + +<p>And then she said a little abruptly: "I have sent in my refusal to that +offer made me, Mother."</p> + +<p>"You mean the post of teacher somewhere?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I think you are wise. I do not see how your father could get on +without you here."</p> + +<p>"No; and he tells me you are wanting to go abroad again this winter?"</p> + +<p>"It is the beginning of the year and the early spring, that tries Cecil +so," said Mrs. Adair slowly. "She is already getting back her cough +again here, which I hoped she had lost altogether."</p> + +<p>"Father and I are woefully disappointed," said Joan impulsively. "He +is not so young as he was; he worships the ground you tread upon, and +feels your absence keenly. His heart has been set upon keeping you at +home this winter. I suppose it is not possible for Cecil to go abroad +without you?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly," said Mrs. Adair with a little laugh, "and, my dear Joan, +your father will not miss us when we are gone. I cannot, as you know, +throw myself into the small life of a small village. There is always an +undercurrent of friction and dissatisfaction when we are home. It is my +fault. You are a woman now and I suppose you have your own thoughts and +ideals. They must take you farther than the horizon of Old Bellerton. +Your father considers that the four walls of a house is the boundary of +a woman's life work and ambition. But then he has a wrong conception +of the size of a woman's intellect. And I suppose he, and the class of +thinkers like him, are mainly responsible for the rebellious outbursts +of many girls who are now swelling the body of militant suffragettes."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan quietly; "but you have seen a lot of life, Mother, and +must feel, as even I do, that old-fashioned notions about women are not +always cruel or criminal."</p> + +<p>"Your father is one of the kindest and most tender-hearted men that I +have ever known," said Mrs. Adair quickly. Then she laughed. "We are +a very modern mother and daughter to be discussing the head of the +house in this fashion. But in choosing a husband, Joan, goodness and +kindness of heart are not everything. I suppose a broad outlook on life +and intellectual aspirations are not conducive towards content and +happiness, when one's companion for life is offering one crumbs from +his table."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image004" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image004"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image004.jpg" alt="image004"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>JOAN WENT DOWN ON HER KNEES BEFORE HER MOTHER</b><br> +<b>IMPULSIVELY, AND TOOK HER HANDS IN HERS.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"Oh, Mother!"</p> + +<p>Joan's exclamation was involuntary.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair pulled herself up.</p> + +<p>"I have no business to speak so. I don't know why I chafe under the +masculine rule. Your father would cut off his right hand for me, but +to him the limits of a woman's wants and desires are astoundingly +infinitesimal, and his estimate of her capacity in life is what any +upper servant would fulfil."</p> + +<p>"Yes," murmured Joan; "but he never interferes or tries to dictate to +one."</p> + +<p>"Well, all this is beside the mark. Cecil's health is the main +question. I will not see her droop and die in uncongenial soil if I +can prevent it. You are strong, Joan, and cannot understand how the +aggressive biting cold of this village can shrivel up the low vitality +of a delicate organisation. Your father accepted this living without +any reference to me. He wrote of it as a godsend; and yet he must have +known that the seeds of disease were sown in both our boys in this +neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>Joan looked at her mother with startled eyes.</p> + +<p>"I did not know," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"You were born," Mrs. Adair continued, "when I was a happy girl living +in close touch with my old friends and old life. Poverty and privation +were unknown to me, for my father's cheque-book was continually +supplying extra comforts for us. When we came here, I began to +experience the humiliation and misery of a narrow income. Both boys +were born when I was least able to mother and nurse them. They and +Cecil never had a chance. You take after your father's family, they +took after mine, and the cold, biting winters here aggravated their +delicacy. I could not rear them in comfort, as they should have been +reared, and my handsome boys were taken from me before they had seen +anything of life."</p> + +<p>She paused. She could not even now mention the loss of her sons with +composure.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I was ambitious," she went on. "As you know, I come from +a race of soldiers who have all earned their country's gratitude for +their achievements. Do you think it is nothing to me to have no sons to +follow in their grandfather's footsteps, to leave a name behind them, +to bequeath in their turn sons to serve our Empire?"</p> + +<p>There was such passion in Mrs. Adair's tone that Joan was speechless. +The mother had never confided in her daughter so fully before. And Joan +understood for the first time that it was the want of resignation to +her loss that was the canker eating away at her heart, and marring much +in her strong and purposeful character. After a few minutes' silence, +Joan said softly:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you may yet have grandsons to serve their country. Cecil is +most attractive. She will marry."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair heaved a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>"She has nothing of a constitution. I feel she may slip away from me as +the boys did."</p> + +<p>This little talk with her mother made Joan sympathise with her more +than she had ever done before. She had always known that she occupied +a very small place in her mother's affections. Her very health and +strength were almost an offence.</p> + +<p>"Like Father's family," said Joan to herself later that day. "Well, I +will not wish myself otherwise. I would not have a Lovell's nervous, +high-strung organisation, in spite of their aristocratic refinement and +dainty graces, because someone must be strong and uniformly cheerful +in the house; someone must shoulder the daily vexations and worries, +and my shoulders are strong enough and broad enough to bear them. Poor +Mother! She lives in haunting dread that death may snatch away her +last treasure from her. And poor Father! To be so delighted with this +living, and to imagine that Mother has no remembrances of the past! How +I wish I had known more about those early struggling days here. I think +I should have persuaded him to stay where he was. There is no possible +hope now of her ever becoming reconciled to living here."</p> + +<p>She made these reflections in her own room after returning from the +drive. And when tea was over she took her organ key and slipped over +to the church to have a practice by herself. She was just summoning a +small boy from a cottage near to come and blow for her, when she heard +strains of music coming from the church. She abandoned her intention +and crept softly up into the old porch. There was no doubt that a +master hand was upon the keys of her beloved organ. She held her +breath, entranced, and then very noiselessly slipped inside and sat +down upon a seat behind a big pillar, which effectually concealed her +from view. Only two candles were lighted; Major Armitage was seated +on her stool and was pouring out his soul in a flood of passionate, +vibrating melody, though there was a hush and a sense of restrained +force through every note he touched.</p> + +<p>Joan had an intense love for music, and her ears quickly perceived that +a strain of unfulfilled desire and expectation was in his music, and it +made her heart ache to hear it. She almost felt that she was intruding +upon a sacred time, when a soul was baring its griefs and longings, and +for one moment she felt inclined to leave.</p> + +<p>Then the music died away. A short silence fell, and then suddenly, in a +soft, mellow tenor, he began to sing. The words were familiar, but Joan +had never heard such an exquisite setting to them. She concluded it was +an anthem, and yet from the harmony, it seemed more fitted for a solo.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word<br> + do I hope.<br> + My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch<br> + for the morning; I say more than they that watch<br> + for the morning."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>As he played, the darkness of the night seemed to loom around them, and +then the first faint light of dawn took its place.</p> + +<p>The triumphant emphasis of the first words, the assurance that waiting +was the soul's steadfast and hopeful attitude, imprinted itself upon +Joan's soul. When the Major came to a pause, she stole out of the +church, and her eyes were moist with emotion.</p> + +<p>"No wonder Maria said he played like an angel! How I long to have his +gift! I wish I knew him!"</p> + +<p>Then she shook her head with a little smile.</p> + +<p>"There are other people in the world who are practising patience like +myself."</p> + +<p>When she joined the others, she found that her father was giving them +an account of his visit to the Major.</p> + +<p>"A very pleasant and well-informed man. He has been through deep +waters. He just touched upon his profession. I should like you to have +heard the way he spoke of it, Cecilia, and the grief it was to him when +he left it. But he told me his father had a place in Yorkshire with a +private chapel attached—it has gone to his eldest brother now—and from +quite a youngster he spent all his spare time at the organ. Music is +his hobby. He sometimes plays the organ at Queen's Hall, in town, for +the weekly popular concerts. And I believe he composes and publishes. +He told me if his blindness had continued, he would have become an +organist somewhere. This place belonged to his mother, and she left it +to him. He thought he ought to come down and live here, he said; but I +think his heart is in town. I begged him to dine with us, but he asked +me to excuse him. He walked back with me, and then went into the church +to try the organ."</p> + +<p>"I have just heard him playing there," said Joan.</p> + +<p>"It is a treat to listen to him," said Cecil. "But it is very surly of +him to shut himself away from society."</p> + +<p>"He may have reasons for it," said Joan. In her mind's eye, Sophia's +graphic picture came before her—the lonely man in the empty room, +playing to somebody unseen.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>There was a good deal of bustle in the rectory for the next few days. +Mrs. Adair and Cecil were packing and getting ready for their Edinburgh +visit. Cecil had plenty of mending, which she laughingly turned over to +Joan.</p> + +<p>"You are a born needlewoman; I am not. Oh, how I wish I could afford to +have a maid of my own!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair did not approve of this visit.</p> + +<p>"You say this place is cold for Cecil; why, Edinburgh will be a hundred +times as cold. It is the wrong time of year to go up to Scotland."</p> + +<p>This remark was made to his wife.</p> + +<p>She answered him impatiently.</p> + +<p>"My brother's house is rather different from ours. It is heated with +radiators, and has every comfort. Cecil will be in the lap of luxury."</p> + +<p>He sighed.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it will be an expensive visit for so short a time."</p> + +<p>His wife did not reply. She had made up her mind to go, and nothing +would prevent her. She was not entirely heartless or indifferent to +her husband's struggles to make both ends meet; but she had never +been able to economise, and money seemed to leak away through her +finger ends. She had periodical fits of retrenchment, but after making +herself and everyone around her perfectly miserable by knocking off +real necessities, she would relapse into her old happy-go-lucky way and +spend as if she were a wealthy woman.</p> + +<p>"I shall be thankful to get to a house with the 'Times' in it," she +said to Joan that evening, as she turned over the local paper rather +impatiently. "It is no wonder everyone is so sleepy in these parts. You +have not even a magazine club going."</p> + +<p>"We are starting one," said Joan quickly. "I suggested it, and if +everyone will join, there will be no difficulty. I felt the dearth of +books when I came here. Mr. Wilmot Gascoigne is taking the matter up, +and they say what he does at all he does thoroughly."</p> + +<p>"It is strange that he has not called," Mrs. Adair said. "He told me he +quite intended to do so."</p> + +<p>The very next day, he was announced about tea-time. When tea was over, +he sat and talked to Mrs. Adair. Cecil yawned, and finally took up her +novel, saying audaciously:</p> + +<p>"I hate listening to other people's talk. And I cannot join in myself, +for you are flying from one subject to another, and each one is deeper +than the last. I'll leave the listening to Joan, who appreciates it."</p> + +<p>"But we want Miss Adair to be more than a listener," said Wilmot, +turning to Joan as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Joan was too interested to remain silent. Wilmot Gascoigne was a good +talker, and, what was rarer still, he liked to listen to others. Mrs. +Adair and he had many things in common; but when they touched on +politics, Joan became silent.</p> + +<p>"I am no politician," she said, when Wilmot asked her opinion upon a +certain statesman. "Everybody always believes in himself or his party, +and seldom credits those who disagree with him with either principles +or common sense. I should like the party spirit ousted from our +Government."</p> + +<p>Wilmot shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It sounds simple, but it would be inextricably involved. If there +were no longer two parties, the balance of power would be lost. And +would measures ever be passed? Imagine the length of discussion when +every member would have his individual idea, and each and all have a +different scheme to propose."</p> + +<p>"Everything is sacrificed to party now," said Joan; and then she was +called out of the room by Sophia, who had someone from the village +waiting to see her.</p> + +<p>When she came back, her mother and Wilmot were discussing Venetian +history. He stayed for a couple of hours, but before going told Joan +he would like to send her down a couple of new books on Constitutional +History, and she accepted the offer with much pleasure.</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with Derrick," said Cecil, when he had gone away; "he is +as dogmatic and book-musty as all such bookworms are. He is the kind of +man who thinks any book above criticism, just because it is a book."</p> + +<p>"Now, Cecil, you are talking nonsense," said her mother. "He is a man +who has learnt as well as read. You can feel it in every word he says."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next day they went. And Joan felt at first a terrible blank in the +house, though she had infinite more leisure, which she occupied by +visiting the parishioners.</p> + +<p>Derrick met her coming home very tired one afternoon, after a long +round.</p> + +<p>"Take my arm," he said.</p> + +<p>Joan looked at him with laughing eyes.</p> + +<p>"The village would see us, and say we were courting," she said.</p> + +<p>"It is a capital suggestion," said Derrick eagerly. "Let us begin at +once."</p> + +<p>Joan rebuked this levity.</p> + +<p>He heaved a sigh.</p> + +<p>"I'm going back to town to-morrow, and to work. Joan, don't you think, +as an old pupil of the Dominie's, and an attached and grateful friend, +I might be asked to spend Christmas at the rectory?"</p> + +<p>Joan looked grave and considered.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so, Derrick. We expect Mother and Cecil back, and our +house is small. It sounds inhospitable—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll wait till Easter. You and the Dominie will be alone then. +And, look here, Joan, let me advise you for your good. Don't be getting +too thick with Motty. He's easily flattered, poor brute, and he really +isn't the sort of fellow who will do you any good. What do you think +he told me this morning? He said the annals of his family ought to be +kept in the Zoo, for, as far as he could see, they had never got beyond +their animal powers. Fighting, eating, drinking composed their lives, +and that in no record since the Conquest could he find a Gascoigne who +was a scholar and had used and cultivated the brains which had been +given to him.</p> + +<p>"'But you're a Gascoigne,' I said.</p> + +<p>"You should have seen him rise to the bait. He simply swelled visibly."</p> + +<p>"Derrick, I will not listen to you," said Joan, half laughing, half +vexed. "I thought men's natures were too big to allow of backbiting. +Why do you dislike Wilmot Gascoigne so?"</p> + +<p>"Because you like him," said Derrick manfully and promptly. "And I know +he will be your undoing."</p> + +<p>"You are talking nonsense."</p> + +<p>"So I am. Now, look here, Joan, I mean to talk good, sound, honest, +sober sense with you now. My life and yours have always run together. +But since I have lived in town, we've drifted a wee bit apart, and I +want to remedy this. Will you let me do it in my own way?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Joan quickly, and edging a little away from him. "I have +my life here; you have yours in town. If we meet occasionally as old +friends, it is very pleasant. Don't let anything spoil our friendship. +And, oh, please, Derrick, be merciful this afternoon, for I am very +tired."</p> + +<p>Derrick took her hand and tucked it in his arm. "It is dark," he said. +"Confound convention! Well, I will be patient, but you must realise, +and I don't want you to forget it, that you have a very patient waiting +friend in town. And his determination and patience are vying with each +other in strength and—and in endurance. He will wait till he gets what +he wants, but he will get it in the end."</p> + +<p>Joan's hand trembled a little. She tried to withdraw it, but Derrick +had captured it, and though he felt the quiver of it, he would not let +it go.</p> + +<p>When they were at the rectory gate, he said:</p> + +<p>"This is my good-bye. I leave to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Then his stern gravity melted, and it was in his most coaxing boyish +tone that he said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Joan, my heart's dearest, do let me kiss your dimple!"</p> + +<p>"You are preposterous, Derrick!"</p> + +<p>Joan fled from him. Half-way up the drive, she turned. He was leaning +his arms on the gate looking after her.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," she waved. "And work hard for your country, and think of +your party last."</p> + +<p>"I shall come back here for Easter," he said defiantly; "so mind you +keep a spare room ready for me."</p> + +<p>She laughed light-heartedly, and Derrick turned away with her sweet +laugh ringing in his ears, not altogether dissatisfied with his parting +talk with her.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE MAJOR'S HOSPITALITY</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>JOAN was making apple jam in the kitchen. Jenny was attending on her, +for Sophia had gone to the dentist's in Coppleton; she very seldom had +an afternoon out, and would not have gone now unless Joan had insisted +and had promised to make the jam instead of her. Poor Sophia had had +three days and nights of raging toothache, and Joan bundled her up in +wraps, seated her in the jingle, and the odd man drove her in.</p> + +<p>It was a cold grey afternoon in November. The wind soughed in the old +rectory chimneys, and the sky had that peculiar metallic blue-grey hue +which betokens the coming of snow. Joan looked out of the cosy kitchen +through the window.</p> + +<p>"I would rather be in than out to-day, Jenny, wouldn't you? I hope +Sophia won't be caught in a storm."</p> + +<p>"The master be out too," said Jenny. "Old Dan'l Tucker be taken very +bad and sent for him."</p> + +<p>Joan looked anxious as she turned to her jam and stirred it.</p> + +<p>"I did not know he was going there. It is quite three miles off. I +thought he was only going his round in the village."</p> + +<p>Jam making continued, she could not leave it, but when dusk began to +gather, and neither Sophia nor the rector was back, Joan began to +worry. Snowflakes appeared, not very large at first, but growing bigger +and thicker as time went on.</p> + +<p>At last sounds of wheels across the yard were heard, and Sophia +staggered into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Joan, glad I am to be back. 'Tis blowing a blizzard. I can't +feel my hands or feet."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Father? He has actually gone across the heath to the +Tuckers. I am quite nervous about him."</p> + +<p>Sophia looked horrified, then she spoke in a reassuring tone.</p> + +<p>"They'll keep him over the night. The Tuckers be superior folk, and +their farm be as big and comfortable as any gentlefolk's. Don't you +fret, Miss Joan. They'll keep him there sure enough."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Father would stay. He would know that I should be +anxious."</p> + +<p>She left the kitchen and went into the dining-room, which gave her a +glimpse of the road for some distance. Mr. Adair had a slight cold, and +Joan remembered now that he had complained of oppression on his chest +that morning.</p> + +<p>"I ought to have looked after him. I was too engrossed in my jam, and +in Sophia's toothache. I ought not to have let him go out at all this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>As she watched at the window, she saw a man in the distance making his +way down the street. For one instant she thought it was her father, and +heaved a sigh of relief, then she saw the figure was taller and more +erect than the old rector was, and she waited to see him approach. He +came in at the rectory gate and up the drive.</p> + +<p>Joan impulsively dashed out into the porch. "Have you come from my +father? Do you know where he is?"</p> + +<p>"Safe in bed at my house, and I hope he will stay there."</p> + +<p>It was Major Armitage who spoke, and in her anxiety, Joan drew him into +the hall.</p> + +<p>"Has he met with an accident? Is he ill?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Adair, the fact is, I came across him leaning up against +my fence a couple of hundred yards from the house. He was panting for +breath, and pretty well exhausted by his tramp across the heath. I took +him straight in and gave him some brandy. It did him good. I consulted +my housekeeper, and she thought that bed was the best place for him. +And then to ease his mind, I came off to tell you where he was. And on +the way, I met the doctor and sent him to have a look at him, for I +think he has some kind of bronchial attack."</p> + +<p>"Come in where there is a fire," said Joan, opening the door of her +father's study. "How kind of you to keep him. But I must go to him; I +understand him. Is he not well enough to come back here to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't advise it. By all means come back with me now. Perhaps we +shall find the doctor still there."</p> + +<p>Without a word more, Joan left the room. She called Sophia to her and +told her what had happened, whilst she got ready to go out.</p> + +<p>"Aye, dear Miss Joan, here's trouble. But Maria will know what to do. +She be a first-rate nurse, and maybe to-morrow will find him quite +himself again. 'Tis no use to drag upon our heads the burdens of the +morrow, so we'll just leave it at that. And if it will ease your mind, +just tell Maria to make you up a bed in his room and stay the night. +If you don't come back in the hour, that's what I know you'll do. And +remember, a good mustard poultice will ease his chest!"</p> + +<p>Major Armitage looked about him when he was left alone. He noted the +comfortable chair drawn up to the fire, the warm slippers on the +fender, the dainty little tea-table awaiting the rector's return. And +he muttered to himself:</p> + +<p>"A woman's care."</p> + +<p>Joan was back almost directly. She said very little, but outside, her +swift strides had no trouble in keeping pace with the Major's.</p> + +<p>"It was you who befriended my small dog," said Major Armitage in a +friendly tone.</p> + +<p>"And now you have befriended my father," replied Joan quickly. "I +believe I have been most ungrateful, for I have never expressed my +thanks. I was so anxious at Father's non-appearance that I could think +of no one else."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry over him. A few days' rest and warmth will set him all +right again; but it is not pleasant weather to be out."</p> + +<p>They were met here by a sharp squall of snow and wind. Talking was +impossible. They could hardly keep their footing, and for the rest of +the way they reserved their breath for battling with the elements. He +did not take Joan to the front entrance, but turned in by a side door +and ushered her into a comfortable smoking-room.</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't mind the smell of smoke," he said, drawing up a chair +to the fire for her. "I will send my housekeeper to you, and she will +take you to your father. May I relieve you of your cloak?"</p> + +<p>He helped her out of her snow-covered garment, but as he did so, his +lips snapped together like steel, and a hard stern look came into his +eyes.</p> + +<p>Joan, glancing up at a mirror in front of her, caught sight of the +frowning face behind her. She wondered at it, and then remembered some +of the talk about him, and spoke in her impulsive fashion.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid this is all most unpleasant to you, Major Armitage. Don't +think of entertaining me or coming near me. It is only my father I want +to see."</p> + +<p>He gave a little courteous bow.</p> + +<p>"I hope I know my duties as your host. I assure you I am not a +misanthrope, though I know I do bear a bad character in the village."</p> + +<p>Joan's cheeks grew hot. She felt she had blundered, and then she said +in her natural tone:</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, I always do say the awkward thing if I can manage it."</p> + +<p>He gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"We won't stand upon ceremony with each other. Do sit down and warm +yourself."</p> + +<p>He left the room, and the next moment Maria appeared.</p> + +<p>"Ah, dear Miss Adair. Your pore dear father, there! When I saw him +staggerin' in with the master, I thought he was struck for death! I +assure you his face were a dark purple, and he were gaspin' like a +dyin' fish! But we got him some spirit and put him to bed, and he have +had hot bottles to his feet, and he be now lyin' in a heavy doze, and +his breathin' raucous—well, I must say it is that, but not worse than +to be expected."</p> + +<p>"Take me to him," said Joan as soon as she could get in a word. "Has +the doctor gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, has ordered a steam kettle, says it's a sharp attack of +bronchitis, and he mustn't be moved. Come you this way."</p> + +<p>She went upstairs, and Joan followed her, hardly noticing where she +was going, until she found herself in a big comfortable-looking room +with a blazing fire. Her father lying back upon the pillows in an +old-fashioned tester bed recognised her, and smiled but could not speak.</p> + +<p>Joan went up, and stooping down spoke in her cheeriest tone:</p> + +<p>"Well, Dad, dear, this is unlucky, isn't it? I'm so thankful Major +Armitage took you in. Now don't try to speak. You'll be better +to-morrow, and you must just stop here till you're fit to be moved. I +shall look after you to-night. Try to go to sleep."</p> + +<p>Relief and comfort was expressed at once in Mr. Adair's troubled face.</p> + +<p>"Now, you know, you'll do everything that is right," he murmured, and +then he closed his eyes.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image005" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image005"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image005.jpg" alt="image005"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>JOAN AND BANTY CHATTED TOGETHER IN LIGHT-HEARTED FASHION</b><br> +<b>WHEN THEY WERE SITTING DOWN WATCHING FOR THE KETTLE TO BOIL.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Maria appeared, but Joan drew her out of the room, where they arranged +everything for the invalid's comfort. Joan said she would sit up in the +big easy chair by the fire all night.</p> + +<p>"I shall have a nap when I can, but I will keep the fire in and the +kettle going, and give him what he needs."</p> + +<p>She heard all the directions that the doctor had given and promised +to carry them out. The master of the house was of no account in her +eyes, nor did she think of him again until she was sitting up awake in +the silent hours of the night. Then she began to wonder about the life +that he led in this lonely house, and who was the lady of his choice, +whether she were but a sweet memory or a living reality.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair slept a good deal, and by the time the dawn broke his +breathing was considerably easier. When Maria appeared, Joan smiled up +at her.</p> + +<p>"We have had a good night, and he is not worse, but better I should +say."</p> + +<p>Maria brought her a cup of tea, then persuaded her to go into an +adjoining bedroom and have a bath, so as to refresh herself.</p> + +<p>An hour later she was downstairs in the hall just in the act of going +out of the door, when Major Armitage appeared from the dining-room and +stopped her.</p> + +<p>"You are not going off without any breakfast? I could not allow you to +do that. I am glad to hear good accounts of your father."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm so thankful. I must get home to ease our old servant's mind. +I thought I might run up again to see the doctor when he comes, and to +ask him how Father can be moved."</p> + +<p>"I have already sent a message down to the rectory. I am not going to +let you go till you have had something to eat. Come in here."</p> + +<p>Joan could not resist his pleasant peremptoriness. She followed him +into the dining-room. It was a large comfortable room, with a broad bay +window overlooking the garden. The expanse of dazzling snow outside +gave a reflected light into the room. Joan was conscious as she looked +at the smart soldier-like neatness of the Major, that she herself was +tired and unrefreshed by the night's watch. But he was thinking as he +took her in with one swift glance that he had seldom seen a woman with +a sweeter, fresher countenance.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was laid on a small round table near the fire. The long +dining-table in the middle of the room was evidently not used.</p> + +<p>Major Armitage presided over the coffee and tea himself. He waited on +Joan with cheerful alacrity. There was nothing in his manner to prove +that he disliked women guests. Their talk was, of course, about the +invalid.</p> + +<p>"I dread my father getting bronchitis at the beginning of the winter. +He has had it before, but I am so immensely thankful and grateful to +you for finding him. How did you manage it?"</p> + +<p>"I heard one of my dogs barking outside. I'm afraid he took the rector +for an intruder. It is my dog you have to thank for telling me of your +father's whereabouts."</p> + +<p>"But you offered him shelter and hospitality."</p> + +<p>"Who would not? If I had been in a similar case, would you not have +taken me in and nursed me?"</p> + +<p>"I hope I should," said Joan with a smile; "which reminds me of an old +man in the village—do you know him? A superannuated postman, Dicky +Grubb. He called me in to take shelter from the rain, and when I +thanked him, he said:</p> + +<p>"'Why, that be all right. I do reckon I'd have asked the evil one +hisself in if I'd seen 'im. I do be just desperate for a talk wi' +somebody.'"</p> + +<p>"These country folk have a great belief in the personality of the evil +one," said Major Armitage with an amused smile.</p> + +<p>"I must rank myself amongst them," said Joan, a soft grave light coming +into her eyes at once. "If we believe our Bibles, we must, but the +comfort is to feel that the Power above him is greater."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe in a gracious providence overlooking our lives and +ordering all things for our eternal good?" questioned the Major +abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," said Joan simply. "I believe it with all my heart. I +always have liked that verse in Job. Do you know it?—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'For He performeth the thing that is appointed for me.'<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"It takes the sting out of so much if we can feel it is His hand +behind."</p> + +<p>"Life has a good deal of bitterness in it," said Major Armitage, "but I +think if I hadn't believed in that Hand, I should have blown my brains +out long ago. As one lives on, though, one's patience gets exhausted."</p> + +<p>Then he pulled himself together, as if he had said too much. "What a +beautiful little organ you have."</p> + +<p>"Yes, isn't it? I have been wondering if you would ever like to take +our services for us. We should enjoy it so much if you did."</p> + +<p>"Would you? I always think organists are tenacious of their position +and resent any amateurs touching their beloved instrument."</p> + +<p>"But I am much more of an amateur than you are," said Joan, smiling. +"And I have heard your playing once, and I long to hear it again."</p> + +<p>"Music is the comfort of my life," said Major Armitage. "I have only a +piano here, but I am thinking of building an organ. Meanwhile, I tell +you that I have very happy times in your little church."</p> + +<p>Then he began to talk over organ music with her. The personal note in +his conversation disappeared, and Joan was rather glad of it. He was +as yet too great a stranger for her to touch upon the deep things of +life with ease in her talk with him. She was always shy of mentioning +them herself; and he had surprised her by his words. Yet as they talked +there over their comfortable meal, Joan felt an increasing liking for +this man. He seemed so frank and straightforward that she could not +reconcile the account of him which Maria had given to her sister with +her actual experience now.</p> + +<p>When breakfast was over and she was about to depart again, Major +Armitage stopped her.</p> + +<p>"You have a mile and a quarter to walk to the rectory through the fresh +snow. If you want to see the doctor, he will most likely be here in an +hour's time. What is the good of rushing home and back again before his +visit? Stay with the rector till he comes, and write a note to your old +servant. I will send my groom over with it at once."</p> + +<p>Joan considered a moment and then agreed. He took her across the hall +to his smoking-room, and left her at the writing-table there. She +wrote her note, gave it to the groom, who was waiting in the hall for +it, and then with rapid steps went upstairs to her father. Maria was +superintending one of the housemaids, who was tidying up the room.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you haven't gone, miss. The rector has been asking for you."</p> + +<p>Joan went up to the bedside. Her father was awake and feverishly +anxious to get up.</p> + +<p>"I have been told by this good woman, my dear, where I am. I could +hardly remember how I came here. I must go home, Joan. If I am ill, +I must be in my own house; and there is Sunday coming. To-morrow is +Saturday. If I cannot take the service, we must get someone else to do +it. There are a lot of things to arrange. I must—"</p> + +<p>"Now, Father, dear, I will see to everything. We are only waiting till +the doctor has been. You must not worry, and you must not talk."</p> + +<p>Joan was very firm. She sat down by the bed and began telling her +father of some funny experiences she had had the previous morning in +the village. His attention was diverted from himself; he smiled, then +became sleepy again, and had a good half-hour's nap before the doctor +arrived. Dr. Blount gave a good report of his patient.</p> + +<p>"I believe he has just staved off an attack of pneumonia. You must not +attempt to move him to-day. Send over your old servant; she and her +sister here will manage him nicely, and you can ease his mind best by +running his business."</p> + +<p>For practical common sense Dr. Blount had no equal. When Joan was once +convinced that her father was in no danger, and only required rest +and care for a few days, she went straight down and interviewed Major +Armitage again.</p> + +<p>She found him out in the garden directing a lad how to sweep the snow +off the paths.</p> + +<p>He anticipated her in what she was about to say. "I am not going to let +your father go to-day or to-morrow, whatever the doctor says."</p> + +<p>"It is most kind of you," Joan said; and then she told him what the +doctor wished.</p> + +<p>"If you do not mind Sophia coming up, she will be a great comfort to +Father; and I have really so many things to see to in the parish that I +shall be quite content with Sophia's reports once a day."</p> + +<p>"I'll do anything you like to suggest; but I hope you will feel free to +run up whenever you have time. I am going up to town to-morrow for the +night, but I'll come down to you myself on the way to the station, if I +may, to tell you how I leave him."</p> + +<p>Joan thanked him with a lightened heart. Then, looking round her, she +could not help exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"What a beautiful old home you have! Isn't it wonderful how grand and +majestic a heavy fall of snow makes its surroundings? We might be now +in the depths of a huge forest. Your trees and snow glades through them +are magnificent."</p> + +<p>Major Armitage turned with her to face his old, weather-beaten, +ivy-covered house. The wind had gone down, and there was that peculiar +silence and stillness that fallen snow always brings.</p> + +<p>"It is a waiting house," he said, somewhat dreamily. "It has always +borne that characteristic on its walls to me."</p> + +<p>Joan hardly knew what to say. He turned to her with a slow smile upon +his face.</p> + +<p>"Do you know any of its history, Miss Adair? For over a hundred years +it has been the abode of lonely souls. No children's voices or steps +have ever brightened its rooms. Three old bachelor brothers succeeded +each other, then a childless couple, then two single women, and each +heir was well over fifty before taking possession. My mother was the +first who broke the chain, but she died six months after it had been +bequeathed to her. And she told me that it had always been considered +an unlucky legacy."</p> + +<p>"Has that any foundation?" Joan asked with interest.</p> + +<p>"There is a saying that until it reverts to the old family to whom it +originally belonged, there will be no luck to its possessor."</p> + +<p>Joan was about to ask the name of that family, but such a stern shadow +came over the Major's face that she refrained, and he turned almost +abruptly away from her for a moment. Then, as she moved away from him, +the smile came back to his lips again.</p> + +<p>"My house and I wait," he said.</p> + +<p>Joan went home that morning with much food for thought, and though her +father figured foremost in her mind, there was another who figured in +it too.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>AN ENCOUNTER WITH WILMOT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IN three days' time, the rector was moved home, and in a fortnight +he was going about much as usual; but the result of his sojourn with +Major Armitage was a distinct friendship with the lonely man. He often +dropped in to see the rector and have a chat with him; he exchanged +organ voluntaries with Joan, took the service himself one Sunday night, +and fascinated everyone there by the beautiful music he gave them after +the service was over.</p> + +<p>But though to Joan and her father he was always genial and pleasant, he +refused to extend his friendship to society in general. And whispers +were still circulated that he was queer, and had "a bee in his bonnet." +Joan contradicted these rumours with much warmth, but the gossips shook +their heads and retained their own opinions.</p> + +<p>A little incident that occurred made her realise that perhaps they had +some foundation for their circulation, and yet, understanding a little +better, as she did now, the working of an artistic nature, and withal +an intensely dreamy one, she felt more distressed than ever that gossip +should ferret out the secrets of an upright, honourable gentleman.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, after a visit to the rector, Major Armitage promised +to send Joan a Christmas carol of his own composition. She had been +planning some carol practices for Christmas, and he had told her of +some with which she had never become acquainted. And then he had added:</p> + +<p>"With an author's egotism, I am wondering if you would like to have a +look at a carol which was sung in Ely Cathedral one year. The organist +was a great friend of mine, and got me to compose the music for some +old words he had found in an antiquated history of Cambridgeshire."</p> + +<p>Joan accepted his offer with delight, and the roll of music came. As +she was unrolling it, a rough sheet of manuscript tumbled out of it. +It had evidently slipped in by mistake. She glanced at the words, and +then with caught breath and tearful eyes she read them through again, +and then an overwhelming feeling of shame took possession of her for +reading them at all.</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"Sweet of my heart, we are quite alone,<br> + Alone in the twilight grey;<br> + Eyes are not needed, only our souls<br> + Touch in an exquisite way.<br> + <br> +"Do I not see thee? I close my eyes,<br> + I need not the light of day;<br> + My lady sits here by the flickering fire—<br> + I know she has come to stay.<br> + <br> +"How can I paint the sweet face that is mine,<br> + The face so purely serene;<br> + The eyes that are softly searching my soul<br> + With their glance so bright and keen;<br> + <br> +"The proud little head, with its poise half gay,<br> + Yet so bewitchingly shy;<br> + The lips that quiver, that open to speak,<br> + Then close with a pensive sigh?<br> + <br> +"Heart of my heart, and queen of my love,<br> + I gaze on thee, full of bliss,<br> + The ache of a lonely hearth is worth while<br> + To give a moment like this."<br> + <br> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">R. A.</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>It was the key to the Major's silent hour by the fireside of the room +which was full of his music and poetry; the room which was closed +against outsiders and strangers, but which was a hallowed spot to his +soul.</p> + +<p>Joan comprehended in a flash as she read, and for some minutes she +stood wrapped in thought with the paper in her hand. Then she wondered +what she had better do. She dreaded letting Major Armitage know that +she had seen and read it. She felt she could not tell him; she could +not write to him. Finally she rolled up the little song and sent it +back to him by post, writing across the wrapper:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Found inside the carol."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>By neither word nor sign did the Major ever let her know that he had +received it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair and Cecil still stayed away. They wrote occasionally, +and one morning the rector looked up from his wife's letter with +disappointment in his face.</p> + +<p>"I was hoping they would come home for Christmas, Joan, but your mother +says they are going to spend it in Cheshire with a cousin of hers. We +shall not see much of them, I am afraid. Your mother wants to go abroad +again in January."</p> + +<p>"I think," said Joan gravely, "that you and I, Dad, dear, had better +make up our minds to run this parish without them. When they come home, +we will welcome them gladly, but we won't keep on expecting them; their +visits will be always short, I know."</p> + +<p>"But why?" Mr. Adair demanded rather impatiently. "Why should they not +stay in their own comfortable home when they are in England? I can +imagine Cecil's delicacy necessitating a warmer climate, but Edinburgh +and Cheshire are colder climates than ours? It is not right; your +mother ought to be here."</p> + +<p>Joan was silent. She knew her father had never grasped and would never +grasp the fact that Mrs. Adair had a real distaste for her clerical +home. After a few minutes she said gently:</p> + +<p>"Cecil can have a good many more luxuries away than she can at home, +and at less expense."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. I know that. But these visits seem to cost a good deal. +I must send your mother another cheque this morning, and a bill has +come in from some London shop. I suppose it is for clothes; you will +understand the items, but it is for a big amount, seventeen pounds!"</p> + +<p>Joan took the bill, a dressmaker's, and then she said:</p> + +<p>"I think I should forward this to mother. She settles for these."</p> + +<p>But she doubted in her heart as she said so whether Mrs. Adair would +do so. She never could cut down her private expenses to her private +income, and her husband had to pay for a good deal.</p> + +<p>It was one of those days when clouds seemed heavy overhead. Some +quarrel amongst the bell-ringers had to be inquired into and set +straight; then Jenny was sent for from home to attend to her mother, +who had scalded her leg badly, and Joan had to get another village girl +to take her place.</p> + +<p>Miss Borfield called, and poured out a grievance which she had been +nursing in private for some considerable time. The last rector had +always consulted her over various village matters. She was being shown +now that her services were not valued or needed. She had not been asked +to tea at the rectory for over two months; Joan never came to see her, +and so on.</p> + +<p>Joan listened, sympathised, apologised, explained, and promised that +things would be different for the future. At half-past three in the +afternoon she had found herself feeling so irritable and impatient with +everybody, indoors and out, that she ran up to her room, flung on her +hat and coat, and started out to walk off her bad feelings.</p> + +<p>The air and solitude were a certain cure with Joan for depression, for +she held communion then with One Who was able to rest and calm the +turbulent waters.</p> + +<p>She walked to her favourite pine wood. It was a cold but bright +afternoon. The words that she had quoted to Major Armitage a short time +ago came into her mind:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "For He performeth the thing that is appointed for me."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>And as she thought upon it, peace came into her soul. Amongst the +silent pines, looking down upon a vista of valley and clustering +cottages round the old grey church, she lifted her heart heavenwards.</p> + +<p>"Just the cutting and shaping and friction that I need," she said to +herself, "as Major Armitage said, 'I believe in the Hand behind.'"</p> + +<p>Her thoughts turned to him as she retraced her steps homeward, and then +suddenly she met Wilmot Gascoigne. He had been supplying her with books +of late, but though he had called several times upon her father, Joan +happened to have missed him.</p> + +<p>"What a walker you are!" he said, as he shook hands with her. "I always +find you out, but have never had the luck to meet you before. Have you +been on one of your usual errands of mercy?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Joan, smiling. "I have simply and solely walked out to +please myself; in fact, I have been walking off bad temper."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could do that. But I don't believe in your black words. +You are always the personification of radiant cheerfulness. I am, or +have been, in the devil of a temper all day, when every living human +creature is an annoyance to me. I am going to chuck up the Gascoigne +Chronicles for a time. They have got on my nerves. I am going up to +town for a few weeks. I want to have a look at some books in the +British Museum. Do you know what I am thinking of doing?"</p> + +<p>"No—what?"</p> + +<p>"Taking a tour in America, and lecturing on the Ancient Homes of +Britain. Nothing takes over there like the histories and legends of the +aristocracy. And I want a wider sphere and a change of work."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were always content and happy amongst your books."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, with a bitter smile, "that is what my good relatives +think; they are continually flinging it in my teeth. Books are my food, +my meat and drink, and my life; but I have other aims in life, and just +now I need money. My American tour will bring me in a golden harvest."</p> + +<p>"I should like to hear you lecture," said Joan, thoughtfully. "Why +won't you give us a village lecture one day? Take some subject that +will suit our villagers. One of the greatest pleasures in life must be +to impart the knowledge which we have."</p> + +<p>"I know that is your creed. You inspire me to try. Now what possible +subject could interest the intellects of your villagers?"</p> + +<p>"It requires consideration," said Joan.</p> + +<p>"Will you think it out, and I will do the same, and I'll drop in on +Saturday afternoon to compare notes. I know the rector is always in +then; he told me so."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I'm sure my father will be pleased at the idea. We were +wishing we could give the men some kind of entertainment."</p> + +<p>"I am not a village entertainer," said Wilmot, with a laugh, "and it is +the most difficult thing in the world to talk down to such an audience. +But I'll have a try at it to please you. How have you got on with +Miller's 'Indian Philosophy'?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I have had little time for reading lately," said Joan.</p> + +<p>"It's an awful waste of a cultivated intellect to be placed where you +are," said Wilmot, with earnestness. "Why don't you strike?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Joan, with a shake of her head. "My circumstances +necessitate it. I am trying to be content."</p> + +<p>"Any fool could run a country parish!" said Wilmot hotly.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I disagree. My father is no fool, and he cannot do it +single-handed and alone."</p> + +<p>"There's a paper I want you to read in the 'National Review,'" Wilmot +went on. "I want a woman's view on it. I left it at the rectory just +now. Will you make time to read it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will try. I shall enjoy it, I expect. Magazine articles do not +want the leisure that philosophical treatises do."</p> + +<p>He turned to another subject which was then filling his mind, the +dawning of the Renaissance Period, and he talked fast and furiously +over it. When he lost himself in his subject, he was intensely +brilliant and interesting. Joan listened entranced, and when they +reached the rectory gates, she heaved a sigh of regret.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said impulsively, "I could listen to you all night; you have +taken me right out of myself and my surroundings!"</p> + +<p>"It is a treat to meet with a kindred soul," said Wilmot, +enthusiastically. "Look here, Miss Adair; we must see more of each +other. I assure you I haven't a single person in this neighbourhood +with whom I can exchange a few ideas."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Major Armitage?"</p> + +<p>"No. He's a musical genius, I hear, and a crank. I should say he never +opens a book."</p> + +<p>"I believe he has a very good library."</p> + +<p>"Has he? If I thought that, I would look him up. Well, then, Saturday +you will see me again. Au revoir!"</p> + +<p>Joan turned indoors. She liked Wilmot Gascoigne, and she did not like +him. Her intellect appreciated his; her spirit clashed with his, and +her instinct told her that his influence was not wholly uplifting.</p> + +<p>"I like and admire him as a teacher," she said to herself, "but I would +not have him as a friend."</p> + +<p>Saturday came, and he turned up to tea full of the village lecture he +proposed to give.</p> + +<p>Joan suggested a lecture on the historical events that had happened +in the county, with special reference to those of local interest. Mr. +Adair thought a talk about drink and politics would suit the labouring +men. Wilmot himself proposed a lecture on political economy. They +finally settled that he should give a lecture on "Country versus Town +Life," and he and Joan had a very long and animated discussion upon +that theme.</p> + +<p>She broke away from him at last. "You must excuse me. Do stay and talk +to my father. This is his free evening. But I have a Sunday school +lesson to prepare and some mark books to make up, and it is half-past +ten."</p> + +<p>Wilmot did not stay. He liked the rector, but it was his daughter he +came to see.</p> + +<p>And for the next ten days before the lecture came off, he was +continually at the rectory.</p> + +<p>Banty arrived one afternoon, and found Joan sweeping the garden paths.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm getting some leaves together to go on our bonfire. I'm tired of +the untidiness of the garden, so I'm making a clearance of a lot of +rubbish. Come into the orchard and see it burn."</p> + +<p>"I always like you so much better out of doors," Banty remarked; +"you're so much more like an ordinary human being then."</p> + +<p>Joan laughed. "What am I indoors?"</p> + +<p>"A very superior rector's daughter."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think I deserve that. I assure you don't feel so."</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing to Motty? He has left the seclusion of the +library, and is for ever coming down here. He told Father to-day that +he must have a holiday; and we hear he is going to give a village +lecture. I warn you, they won't understand one word of it. Have you +bewitched him?"</p> + +<p>Joan was busy stacking up her bonfire. She did not answer for a moment; +then she said lightly:</p> + +<p>"Father and your cousin like a smoke and chat together. I don't think +you give Mr. Wilmot much of your company as a rule."</p> + +<p>"I should think not. Can't stand his stilted talk. But why is he so +keen on coming here to talk to you? That's what I want to know!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose we have tastes in common," said Joan, a little +indifferently. "I am very fond of books, and so is he."</p> + +<p>Banty looked at her in silence; then she said abruptly: "I believe +everybody likes to talk to you; I do."</p> + +<p>"Now that is nice of you," said Joan, turning a smiling face towards +her. "I thought you were going to be disagreeable a few minutes ago."</p> + +<p>"I meant to be. Motty provoked me by singing your praises and saying +that you were wasted upon us. 'A village of clodhoppers,' he called us; +and I know he meant to include the Hall in that disparaging epithet. +We are not clever—I know we aren't—but we are happy and contented with +our country life, and Motty spends his time in abusing it and sneering +at all our neighbours. He tells me he is going to speak about country +and town life to the villagers. I suppose you know what he will do? He +will make London a paradise, and set every young man by the ears to go +there. He'll stir up discontent and restlessness, and make them all +hate their country lives. You see if you don't bring a hornet's nest +into our village schoolroom when he gets up on his hind legs to speak."</p> + +<p>Joan had never heard Banty speak at such length before. She looked +dismayed at the picture which was painted.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will do that. I will talk to him about it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are infatuated with him," said Banty, a little rudely, +"just as my cousins are in town. Motty is full of himself. I wish he +didn't live with us. He always makes us uncomfortable by his airs of +superiority. Now, Derrick Colleton is quite different. It is a pleasure +to have him in the house."</p> + +<p>"Derrick is a dear," assented Joan, warmly.</p> + +<p>"What I like about you is your variety," pursued Banty, watching Joan +feeding the bonfire with critical eyes. "You may be a bookworm at +heart, but you don't mind painting a jingle, or mending a gate, or +making a bonfire—versatility is the word I want!"</p> + +<p>"It's just necessity," laughed Joan; "but I enjoy it all, and any fire +in the open exhilarates me—doesn't it you? I made a fire up in the pine +woods the other afternoon, and sat by it, and had an hour's reading. It +was delicious!"</p> + +<p>"I'll come up and join you one day, if I may. I want to talk to you, +only, when hunting is on, I haven't much time."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Joan, feeling rather sorry that she had given her +quiet retreat away. "But will you join me in reading or do you want to +talk?"</p> + +<p>"To talk," said Banty, frankly and unfeelingly. "I can't talk indoors—I +never could. Out of doors I feel at ease. Let us meet in the pine woods +to-morrow. I can't hunt till next Monday. I've knocked up two hunters +this week, and father has got riled and says I must give them a rest."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow afternoon?" said Joan, dubiously. "Well, I will try."</p> + +<p>"Let us boil a kettle and have tea out there," suggested Banty, with +alacrity.</p> + +<p>Joan agreed, for she wanted to win the confidence of Banty, and knew it +would not do to damp her friendliness.</p> + +<p>"Then I think I'll go now," said Banty. "You'll get sick of me if I +give you too much of my company."</p> + +<p>Joan laughed again as she shook hands with her. "You have a very humble +opinion of your own powers of attractiveness."</p> + +<p>"I'm not attractive to women," said Banty, bluntly; "never can +understand them. I always vote them a bore, and they vote me one. +Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Joan looked after her. She swung away with a boyish stride, and was +soon out of sight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! What waste of time it will be. Why should she fix upon me to +beguile her dull hours? And what can she have to say to me?"</p> + +<p>Joan poked away at the bonfire rather fiercely. Banty was quite right +in her estimate of herself. She was not an attractive personality to +any of her own sex, for she never troubled to make herself pleasant +to them, and Joan did not look forward with any pleasure to the +appointment made.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>JOAN'S GODMOTHER</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>JOAN nearly forgot to meet Banty as arranged, for a letter in the +morning absorbed her thoughts. It was from her godmother, Lady Alicia, +saying she was coming down into their neighbourhood for a week's visit +to some old friends, and would much like to spend a few days at the +rectory and see her goddaughter. Lady Alicia had been to Joan from the +time she was a tiny child the embodiment of all that was enchanting and +delightful. Joan had almost worshipped her, though the times in which +she had seen her were very few and far between. They had corresponded +for many years. Lady Alicia had refused to lose touch with her even +after her confirmation, and Joan felt that she could never express her +gratitude sufficiently for having been enabled to go to Girton by her +godmother's generous help.</p> + +<p>Never before had Joan entertained Lady Alicia in her mother's absence, +and it was five years since her godmother had come to see them. When +Mr. Adair was told, he became rather flustered.</p> + +<p>"My dear Joan, your mother ought to be here. You must tell her. Perhaps +it will bring her back. Lady Alicia is one of your mother's greatest +friends. I should not like to have her here when your mother is away. I +don't think she would care about it either."</p> + +<p>"She has seen Mother in Edinburgh, Father. She tells me so, and Mother +knows she is coming, for she told her she would like to do it. She is +coming to see me, for she is my godmother, remember. I am delighted."</p> + +<p>"She is a very pleasant woman," said Mr. Adair; "but I hope she is not +going to persuade you to leave your work here and take up teaching. I +know she is a clever woman herself, and learning of any sort is her +hobby."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to leave you, Dad," said Joan gently.</p> + +<p>Then she went out to tell Sophia, and that worthy was as pleased as +Joan.</p> + +<p>"We shall be very pleased to see her ladyship, of course, and I'll have +the best spare bedroom aired at once; and we must just plan out some +tasty little dinners. How many days do you say, Miss Joan? A few? Then +we'll say four dinners at the most, and I'll think them out and let you +know what we shall be wanting. She's a real nice lady, is her ladyship, +and I'm glad to think you'll be here alone, for the last time she were +with us 'twas your holidays, and you were sent out of doors whiles the +mistress talked and talked and talked! Oh, how she talked! And when her +ladyship went, she says to me, whiles I were strapping her box:</p> + +<p>"'Sophia, my little goddaughter will grow up a fine woman. I'm sorry to +have seen so little of her.'</p> + +<p>"And a fine young woman you be, Miss Joan, and I'm sure her ladyship +will think so when she looks at you. I often think in the present time +that we shan't have their lordships and ladyships with us much longer. +So we must make the most of them when we can get them. Now the House +of Lords is humbled and made nought of, and these dreadful agitating +strikers and social ruffians are for destroying their houses and lands, +well, the poor things will be driven out of the country; and then it's +the ones who've driven them will wish them back again!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sophia!" said Joan, putting her hands to her ears. "For mercy's +sake stop. Thank goodness Lady Alicia has no houses or land to be taken +from her!"</p> + +<p>She left the kitchen, wrote to her godmother, and went about her daily +duties as if in a dream.</p> + +<p>It was not till late in the afternoon that she remembered Banty; and +it was not in the best of humours that she got her tea basket and +started out for the pine woods. But a walk across the heath restored +her equanimity. It was a soft, mild day, with a wild-looking sky; the +sun shone out between masses of grey, scudding clouds; the west wind +soughed in the pines. The distances were blue and clear, here and there +on far-away hills were wonderful effects of sunshine and shadow.</p> + +<p>Joan found Banty first at their trysting place, and she was building a +fire in a very business-like manner. For a little while they chatted +together in a light-hearted fashion, then, when they were sitting down +watching for the kettle to boil, Banty began:</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you. You're not an old frump, and I'm sure you +have plenty of common sense. Do you think girls nowadays are better +unmarried?"</p> + +<p>Joan had hoped for some better subject for conversation than this; but +she checked her momentary feeling of impatience and answered:</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. If they meet the right man, it is in every respect good +to marry."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but how does any girl know that the man who proposes to her is +the right man?"</p> + +<p>"I think her heart will tell her. Are you wanting to be married?"</p> + +<p>"Me? Rather not! But Mother wants me to think about it. She told me +this morning that if anything happened to Father, I should lose my home +and hunting. I could do without a home, but to give up hunting! Why, I +think I would die! You see Father's heir is a distant cousin, a married +man with a family, and Mother and I would have to promptly clear out. +But, of course, Father may outlive us—at least he may live many years. +I've always felt I'm not made for a wife. I have no domesticities about +me, and men like and expect that, don't they?"</p> + +<p>"You will not always be able to hunt," said Joan slowly. "What will you +do when you get rheumaticky and old?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to live and die in the hunting-field," said Banty firmly.</p> + +<p>"It means a very sudden death, then. Do you wish for that?"</p> + +<p>Banty stared at Joan with big eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, no; it would be terrible, awful!" She shuddered. "Don't let +us talk about death; it seems so gruesome. It is such an appalling +upheaval, isn't it, of our very pleasant matter-of-fact lives."</p> + +<p>"You 'do' think sometimes." Joan said this almost to herself.</p> + +<p>Banty laughed a little awkwardly, then shied some fir cones into the +fire.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering the other day," she said, "whether I had better say +'yes' to a man who is pestering me with his attentions. And I thought I +would ask you. For I assure you, I can't make up my mind. Mother wants +me to have him, because he has lots of tin, and I'd have a jolly good +time if I married him. But I'm not so keen on money as on good company, +and he's the dullest man in the whole field—rides well, but nothing +else. If I got bored after I had married him, what should I do?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't love him, don't marry him," said Joan quickly.</p> + +<p>"Well then, supposing I don't get another offer, and Mother's gloomy +forecast comes true?"</p> + +<p>"But, Miss Gascoigne, there really are other enjoyments in life besides +hunting."</p> + +<p>"There isn't one to me."</p> + +<p>"What do you do in the summer?"</p> + +<p>"I have a vile time."</p> + +<p>Joan looked at the girl softly and seriously, then she put out her hand +and laid it on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Wake up!" she said. "You're half asleep. Somewhere inside you, you +have a spirit, a soul. There are tremendous possibilities for that soul +of yours, and an awfully happy life for you if you can only get it to +stir and prove that it is alive. Happiness all the year round, and not +only in the winter!"</p> + +<p>Banty stared at her again, but Joan did not say another word. She +occupied herself in making two very good cups of tea, and brought the +conversation into lighter channels. Banty was led to talk of otters +and of their habits, and then she gave Joan a lot of interesting +information about the different birds in their locality. She did not +mention the subject of marriage again; but when they at last rose to go +their different ways, she said with emphasis:</p> + +<p>"I'm not quite the sleepy fool you take me to be."</p> + +<p>Joan walked home wondering if she had wasted the hour in the woods or +not. She had a very small opinion of her own powers in influencing +anyone for good, which was rather strange, as she had a wild enthusiasm +for imparting all other knowledge to those who were without it. Outside +her own gate, she stood gazing at the distant hills; the sun was +sending long, crimson streaks across the sky as he sank behind the +pines. She lifted up her face to inhale the soft west breeze which +seemed to be bringing her the aromatic scent of the heather and pines.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she murmured to herself, "it's good to be alive in this beautiful +world—and I've a delicious bit in front of me. How I shall love to have +Lady Alicia all to myself!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The following evening, Wilmot Gascoigne gave his village lecture. Lady +Gascoigne insisted upon coming to it herself, and persuaded Sir Joseph +to accompany her. Banty refused to be present. The village schoolroom +was crowded. Joan was rather nervous when Wilmot opened his lecture by +a comparison between a town and country boy at fourteen. He gave an +imaginary conversation between them which tickled and delighted his +audience, but which showed the country boy at a great disadvantage. +Then, as he talked on, he forgot his class of audience, and his talk +became absolutely unintelligible. He drifted into political economy, +he quoted various authors with whom, of course, nobody was acquainted; +he grew more and more rapid and enthusiastic in his talk, and finally +ended his lecture by declaring that the country bred flourishing +bodies, but that town produced, and could only produce, brains.</p> + +<p>"Bosh!" exclaimed the squire in audible tones.</p> + +<p>Joan felt a great inclination to laugh. Her father, who was taking the +chair, got up in his genial and good-natured way and tried to stand up +for his parishioners.</p> + +<p>"I think the lecturer is hard upon the countryfolk," he said smiling. +"I am not very learned myself, but I do remember several authors and +poets who have done all their best work in the country, and some of +them were country bred."</p> + +<p>"The Brontës!" prompted Joan.</p> + +<p>The rector did not hear her. The gaping audience had hardly taken in +any of the lecture. They clapped when their rector proposed the vote of +thanks to the lecturer, and went to their homes declaring that it was +the "finest performance" they had ever heard, and Mr. Wilmot was just a +"speakin' dictionary."</p> + +<p>Wilmot did not seem so pleased with himself as Joan expected him to be. +He turned into the rectory to have some supper.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said a little defiantly to Joan, "my role is not that of a +village lecturer, is it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Joan, laughing. "I don't think it is; but I am sure you gave +a great deal of pleasure. One old woman said to me coming out: 'Ay, +me dear, he ought to be a parson, sure enough! That's the style of +praychin for we—a reg'lar clap-up style with plenty of noise with it!'"</p> + +<p>Wilmot tried to smile.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he groaned, "it was like talking to rows of stolid cows. There +wasn't one spark of life amongst them. Their eyes were as thick and +vacant as a fish's! How can you peg away at them, rector?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair looked at Wilmot rather gravely.</p> + +<p>"'Line upon line—here a little—there a little,' They are not so stupid +as they look."</p> + +<p>"You had some interested listeners," said Joan. "Major Armitage was at +the back. He slipped in late and went away early."</p> + +<p>"He's a crank," said Wilmot shortly. "I'm much more interested in his +house than himself. It has a curious record."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know about it," said Joan. "To whom did it originally belong?"</p> + +<p>"To the Rollestons. They sold the property about a hundred years ago, +and the Armitages bought it. Don't let us talk about that fellow. Do +you ever go up to town, Miss Adair?"</p> + +<p>"No, never. We are expecting a visitor, an old friend of my mother's, +so my time will be taken up."</p> + +<p>"Does that mean you will have no time for me? I am going to get you to +read up that book on the Renaissance. I shall expect to hear how you +like it when I come back from town."</p> + +<p>"How long will you be away? You seem to have no idea of the life I +lead. I cannot have infinite leisure for reading; I wish I could."</p> + +<p>"I shall be away about ten days or a fortnight. Don't let your mind +rust. We are told to use our talents. Your most important duty is to +cultivate the intellect that has been given you."</p> + +<p>Joan smiled at these platitudes, but the earnestness of Wilmot's tones +made her reply:</p> + +<p>"The difficulty with me is to refrain from reading. It is not a duty, +but a real pleasure."</p> + +<p>She was relieved that Wilmot was going up to town. She found his +constant visits rather a detriment to her parish work.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next day Lady Alicia arrived. Joan met her at the station with the +one shabby fly that Old Bellerton possessed.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia was of medium height and rather slender. She was always +extremely well dressed in a quiet style of her own. Her white hair and +delicately-cut features, with a pair of brilliant, dark eyes, gave her +a remarkable and attractive look.</p> + +<p>"Why, Joan, dear, I don't think I should have known you. You are +looking bonny," was the greeting she gave her goddaughter.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am always in rude health," said Joan laughing. Then, as she +led her to the fly, she added: "I still feel as I always used to feel, +that you are a kind of fairy godmother, quite different from the usual +people I am accustomed to mix with."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you will find me stepping down from that pedestal before +long," said Lady Alicia smiling.</p> + +<p>Then they talked about Mrs. Adair and Cecil, and they arrived at the +rectory just after four.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair came out into the porch to meet them. Lady Alicia delighted +him by expressing herself charmed with the old rectory. Joan took her +up to the spare room, which looked dainty and bright with its blazing +fire, and fresh flowers on the dressing-table.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Lady Alicia, as she sat down in the easy chair by the fire; +"your father has his right setting at last, Joan. I always told him a +country rectory would be his fate one day. I'm sure he is much happier +in the country; is he not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he certainly is. He loves this place, and is only disappointed +that Mother finds it too cold to stay here."</p> + +<p>"She must stay here in the summer, then. I told her so. You will +have her back in May, I hope, Joan. I want to ask you ever so many +questions, but they will keep. What a dear, quaint, little house you +have! I love its dark oak and low rooms. There is such a sense of peace +and quiet in it!"</p> + +<p>"Do you feel it so?" Joan asked eagerly with a flush on her cheeks. "It +impressed me like that the first time I saw it. In the rush and hurry +of every day, I lose that sense, except when I have been out and come +in; then it always strikes me as a haven. And rectories ought to have +restful, peaceful atmospheres, ought they not? So many who have lived +and died in them have been in close touch with heaven."</p> + +<p>"Yes," assented Lady Alicia gravely; but her eyes softened as they +rested on Joan's fair, happy face.</p> + +<p>Joan left her to see that tea was ready, and old Sophia, beaming in her +best black dress, slipped upstairs to "wait on" her ladyship.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia shook her by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sophia, your young lady is turning into a beauty. She was a +gawky schoolgirl when I saw her last."</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lady, she's the best of the bunch; nothing comes irksome to +her. And she shoulders her burdens with a joke and a laugh. The master +would be lost without her. He's getting to lean upon her. I always +do say, my lady, that women be the props of the nation. A man has no +common sense to guide him without her."</p> + +<p>"I think we can stand alone better than they can," said Lady Alicia +smiling.</p> + +<p>She and Sophia understood each other thoroughly, and Sophia now bent +forward with an anxious look in her old eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my lady, could you not get the mistress to be more here now? She's +wanted. The master fair pines for the sight of her."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, Sophia. How often have you asked me that before! But I sometimes +think it is a little kink in her brain. She will not settle down in her +own home. And don't you see that now, when she has a daughter who so +well fills her place, she will be less likely than ever to come back +and work in her husband's parish?"</p> + +<p>"If she were only to bide in the house along with the master, 'twould +ease his dear mind. She were never cut out for parish visiting."</p> + +<p>"That she was not!" said Lady Alicia with her pleasant laugh. "You are +a good creature, Sophia. I see you are determined to unpack me; but, I +assure you, since I have travelled about the world as a lone woman, I +am quite accustomed to maid myself. I'm in love with your old house. I +feel as if I were transplanted back a hundred years."</p> + +<p>She came into the drawing-room a little time later, and the rector and +Joan and she had a very cosy tea and chat together. Then the rector +went off to his study, and Joan and Lady Alicia sat on in the firelight +talking of many things. Joan described the neighbours, the villagers, +and the life surrounding the rectory. She told Lady Alicia of the offer +which had been made to her and which she had refused.</p> + +<p>"You think I was right? I hope you don't think I ought to have gone. I +do not feel that my college education has been wasted, for I am always +hoping that the time may come when I shall be able to profit by it. In +any case, knowledge is never waste, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless you bury it in a napkin," said Lady Alicia. "My dear Joan, +I think you could not have acted otherwise, but I gave your mother a +good scolding when I saw her in Edinburgh. She is ruining Cecil. That +girl is no more delicate than I am; it is just a case of nerves and +fancies."</p> + +<p>"She will never be different," said Joan.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Lady Alicia rejoined, looking thoughtfully into +the coal fire in front of her. "I felt that I should like to take +possession of her and see if I could not wake her into life. She has +brains."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan; "I often wish she would use the brains she has. But I +don't think sisters can ever help one another. Cecil laughs at me and +calls me old-fashioned."</p> + +<p>"Poor little Joan!"</p> + +<p>Joan was sitting on a low chair, and Lady Alicia for a moment laid her +hand caressingly on her head.</p> + +<p>Then Joan turned a flushed face and tearful eyes towards her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady Alicia, I do want to work; I do want to do something with my +life. There is so much that we women can do nowadays. This is such a +small sphere for an able-bodied woman! I feel sometimes as if anyone +could potter in and out of the cottages and talk to the old women. It +sounds conceited if I say it isn't worth my while, but I really do fear +lest this easy, monotonous country life should paralyse my powers. Do +comfort and help me, if you can. Sometimes I feel as if I can never go +on."</p> + +<p>"And I have helped you to test the power of your wings. I wonder if it +was wise."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia looked affectionately at her as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I can never thank you enough. You lifted me into another atmosphere +altogether."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am not going to regret sending you to Girton. But, Joan dear, +you and I believe in the ordering of our lives by One Who never makes +mistakes. Why fret over this bit of your life, even if it seems to you +somewhat inactive? It fits in all right with the plan. If we don't have +the key to it, it does not signify. There may be some soul here whom +God has purposed shall be helped by you. I know a good woman who was +sent out all the way to India to help a gay young bride. Of course, +she did not know the reason of it at the time—she hated Anglo-Indian +society, and she was placed in the midst of it for four months—but she +understood afterwards, and was so thankful that she had not yielded to +her inclinations to stay at home with congenial friends. There may be +some troubles which are hard to bear, but I never think the plain force +of circumstances, however uncongenial, ought to fret us in the least. +Instead of spending our time in useless repining, let us look about and +discover the bit of work which we are meant to do. The best tools are +used for the simplest work. If you have an aptitude for teaching and +moulding and influencing, there is somebody in this part of the world +who is waiting for you to begin on them."</p> + +<p>"That is delightful to think of," said Joan slowly. "Somehow or other I +have felt it must be to shape my own character and make me patient in +the day of small things, and though I have prayed to be made willing, +yet it has been a constant struggle to be so. I am ashamed of myself +as I think of this sweet home. I love the country, too, and if I could +feel sure that I was not missing better opportunities, I would settle +down contentedly here. You have done me such a lot of good."</p> + +<p>"Settle down," said Lady Alicia. "It may seem a small life to you, but +'Better is an handful with quietness, than both the hands full with +travail and vexation of spirit.' Do you remember that wise saying of +Solomon's? You do not know from what you may be saved. I know you are +ambitious, and feel that you have powers that are not being used at +present. A public life for a woman very often brings great strain. You +have a 'handful with quietness' here. It is God's will for you; glorify +Him in it."</p> + +<p>And then there was silence between them. Both were occupied with their +own thoughts.</p> + +<p>For the rest of that evening Lady Alicia touched on more general +topics. She was a good talker, and had the gift of suiting her +conversation to her company. Mr. Adair always enjoyed a talk with her, +and, when dinner was over, he did not retire to his study, as was his +usual custom, but came into the drawing-room, where he and Lady Alicia +had a long and interesting discussion on Church methods.</p> + +<p>Joan listened, and enjoyed it; and whilst she listened, she pondered +over Lady Alicia's words.</p> + +<p>"Settle down." Yes, she determined she would, and Wilmot Gascoigne +should not make her dissatisfied with her sphere. There was no +stagnation where there was life—and if village life was to be her +opportunity for work, she must do it with a glad heart.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>OFF TO THE RIVIERA</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>LADY ALICIA threw herself heart and soul, for the time being, into +the village circle in which she found herself. She walked out with +Joan, and visited the old and sick; she took a Sunday school class of +girls, she attended the choir practices, covered library books, checked +club accounts, and was as keen as Joan herself over the welfare of +the parishioners. One evening after Joan had been practising Major +Armitage's carol, they began to talk about him.</p> + +<p>"He must be a real musician," said Lady Alicia. "I should like to hear +him play. I know his brother in Yorkshire, and have often heard about +him."</p> + +<p>"He has been in London for the last fortnight," said Joan. "He often +comes round for a chat with Father when he is at home, but I have never +had the courage to ask him to play. He is a very reserved man in many +ways, and I always think he has a history."</p> + +<p>She then told Lady Alicia of the gossip about the place and of what +Maria had confided to her sister.</p> + +<p>"Poor, lonely man!" said Lady Alicia softly.</p> + +<p>"For what and whom is he waiting?" Joan asked. "I have never forgotten +the quiet, determined way in which he said to me: 'My house and I +wait.' Somehow I cannot believe that his unseen companion is simply an +ideal of his imagination."</p> + +<p>"No," said Lady Alicia very quietly. "I think I can tell you that that +is not so."</p> + +<p>"You know his story?"</p> + +<p>"I do. Would you like to hear it?"</p> + +<p>A faint flush rose in Joan's cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I can't help feeling an interest in him. But I do not want to be +curious. He told me the unlucky history of his house, but no more."</p> + +<p>"I do not think there would be any harm in your knowing what I +know. I happen to be acquainted with the girl. She was a Miss Irene +Waldborough. They met at the house of a friend of mine before he went +to the war in South Africa. She was only about nineteen then. They were +not engaged; I suppose there was mutual attraction between them. He was +foolish, I think, not to speak. In any case, she thought he did not +care for her, and when her mother, who was of French extraction, and +believed in arranging things for her daughter, pressed a certain young +and rich American upon her, Irene yielded and became engaged to him.</p> + +<p>"I saw her when the news of Major Armitage's wounds reached home. +Everybody thought he would be blind for life. I knew then that he +still held her love. She was in great distress of mind; and when he +eventually returned home, she wanted to go and see him. Her mother +prevented this and urged Frank Denbury the American to marry sooner +than was proposed. The marriage was hurried on, and was about to take +place, when Major Armitage and Irene met. He had sent in his papers and +was staying with his brother. He had not even heard of the engagement.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how it was done, as you may be very certain Major +Armitage would never have spoken. But young people have instincts. +She came to her mother and refused to marry. Mrs. Waldborough was +furious. There was a great disturbance, and I suppose in the end her +will got the better of her daughter's, for the marriage took place. It +was one of those things that one cannot understand. Three days after +the wedding, the bridegroom was summoned back by cable to America. He +could not take her with him, and he has never been heard of since. +About two years ago there was a report of his death, but though all the +best detectives were set to work, and no amount of money was spared in +trying to trace evidence of his movements, the inquiry did not prove +satisfactory. Irene was married five years ago, and seems now neither +maid nor wife."</p> + +<p>"And did she meet the Major again? Does she know he has recovered his +sight?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You see she lives only five miles from his brother in Yorkshire. +I saw her about a month ago. She told me all this herself, and told me, +too, that she is determined to wait seven years if necessary, but that +she can bring nobody else into her life until she has more definite +proof of her husband's death."</p> + +<p>"If I were Major Armitage," said Joan slowly, "I should go out and find +proofs."</p> + +<p>"That was the first thing he tried to do. He went out two years ago, +directly there was this indefinite report; but he could find nothing +beyond the facts already known, that one night Frank Denbury had ridden +away from a certain small town with two friends. These both swore that +he parted with them at a certain point and went in another direction +towards a village which he never reached."</p> + +<p>"And so Major Armitage is waiting for the seven years to pass," Joan +said meditatively. "What a romantic story! Tell me what she is like, +Lady Alicia."</p> + +<p>"Irene is small and slight and dark, rather like your Cecil, but with a +great deal of sweet dignity about her and a certain dainty shyness that +makes it difficult to believe that she is a married woman."</p> + +<p>"And he comforts himself in his solitude by imagining that she is with +him," said Joan almost under her breath. "I do pity him more than ever, +but he seems very sure of her. He has got his house ready for her."</p> + +<p>"Everyone firmly believes the husband is dead," said Lady Alicia. "It +is the doubt in her own mind that makes her wait for him. It is a very +unfortunate story, and I think you had better keep it to yourself."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Joan. "Is she fond of music?"</p> + +<p>"She plays the violin most beautifully. It is that which drew them +together."</p> + +<p>Joan said no more, but Major Armitage and the girl he loved, and for +whom he was waiting, were constantly in her thoughts.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The day before Lady Alicia left, Banty arrived to see Joan. At first +she rather seemed to resent Lady Alicia's presence in the room, but +before very long, her brusque manner left her, and she began confiding +eagerly in the gentle lady before her.</p> + +<p>"It's so beastly dull in frosty weather," she said. "I'm quite glad to +come down here, and Joan is always cheerful and good tempered. The very +sight of her does me good."</p> + +<p>Joan had been called out of the room for a moment when Banty made this +remark.</p> + +<p>"She's a dear girl," said Lady Alicia warmly. "It is a great talent, +I consider, to be able thoroughly to enjoy the little comforts in our +daily life. Joan loves the scent of a flower, the breeze on the moor, +the sight of a sunset, a fire-lit room, and a hundred other details +which would escape some people's observation altogether."</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't mean much to me," said Banty frankly. "I love sport, you +know. That comes first with me. The country, with all its scents and +sights, is only a background. Joan scolded me the other day. I've been +puzzling over her words. She told me to wake up, and said there was +a part of me that wanted to be stirred into life. Now I consider I'm +alive to my finger-tips. I can spot a fox two or three fields off, and +there isn't much going on out of doors that I don't know about!"</p> + +<p>"You must ask Joan one day what she did mean," said Lady Alicia, +looking at her kindly.</p> + +<p>"I don't think she's one of that preaching lot. I couldn't stand any of +that. She's too jolly in herself to mean anything canty."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia wisely changed the subject. After Banty had gone, she said +to Joan:</p> + +<p>"There's a girl who needs a helpful woman friend. I am so glad that she +likes you, and that you have begun to influence her."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I have. I tried to say something the other day, but +she did not respond. Banty is very difficult, Lady Alicia. I feel, +in talking with her, that unless you're on the subject of sport, you +might as well be bumping your head against a stone wall for all the +impression you will make."</p> + +<p>"I think you will make way in time. Pray a lot before you speak."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish you were going to stay longer," said Joan impulsively.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could. One day you must come and stay with me. I should like +to take you abroad. But I shall like to look back and remember this +visit of mine. Your environment is the right one for you, Joan, and I +am quite content that for the time your literary powers should be in +abeyance."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>When Lady Alicia had left, Joan felt rather lonely. But the rush and +bustle of Christmas was upon her, taxing all her powers. And when it +was over, Mrs. Adair wrote saying that she and Cecil would be coming +home for a couple of weeks before they went abroad. Those two weeks +brought a mixture of pleasure and pain to Joan. Cecil was in high +spirits, and Mrs. Adair much less captious and difficult to please. But +the rector grew very depressed, and confided to Joan that he did not +know where the money would come from for all that was needed. And it +seemed to Joan that every post brought parcels from town with expensive +gowns and wraps, and odds and ends, from shoes and boots to soap and +veils and gloves.</p> + +<p>She remonstrated with Cecil when she showed her a delicately painted +chiffon scarf that had cost four guineas.</p> + +<p>"Do you forget that Father is a poor man? This will never come out of +your allowance, and he has already a sheaf of bills which he does not +know how to pay. It is not honest or right, Cecil. I could not do it if +I were in your place."</p> + +<p>"My dear old strait-laced Joan, your mouth is drawing itself down till +your lips meet your chin! Do, for pity's sake, mind your own business! +Bills can wait. It isn't cash on delivery with us. And Father is too +fussy! He always makes a moan over his poverty—always has! And he is +not a poor man now. Now just tell me if you think these blue feathers +match that blue cloth gown of mine. I'm not satisfied with them. I +think I shall send them back."</p> + +<p>Joan curbed her impatience. She shook her head at her.</p> + +<p>Cecil continued in a different tone.</p> + +<p>"Of course you live in such a hole here that you can have no idea how +people in society dress nowadays. I'm simply nowhere and nobody—in +the swim. Why, your old black evening dress was made six years ago, +now wasn't it? But it does quite well for the frump parties in Old +Bellerton. Have you been to any more dinner parties? And have you got +to know the proud scholar and the hermit major?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan quietly. "I know them both. Mr. Wilmot Gascoigne is +still in town. He has been there for some weeks, and Major Armitage +has just come home. He took the service last Sunday evening and played +exquisitely."</p> + +<p>"Get him to play this next Sunday and come to supper afterwards. I like +him. He's a mystery."</p> + +<p>"He won't do that."</p> + +<p>Joan spoke with conviction. She had rather timidly suggested to Major +Armitage that he should come to dine when her mother returned, and he +had promptly though courteously refused.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," said Cecil, "thank goodness in another week we shall be in +another clime."</p> + +<p>A day or two after this, Joan approached her mother on the subject of +expense. She dreaded speaking, but her father had asked her to try to +make her mother understand that it was not meanness on his part, but +sheer inability to produce what was required. And she knew that her +father shrank from all altercations about money affairs.</p> + +<p>Joan plunged into the subject with heightened colour. She was packing a +trunk in her mother's bedroom—a trunk of miscellaneous articles which +was also to contain a good many books.</p> + +<p>"I wish Cecil would pack a few more books and a few less gowns," she +said. "She seems to have no idea of economy in dress."</p> + +<p>"She is rather extravagant," said Mrs. Adair. "But I was like it at her +age; I hope she will require less as time goes on."</p> + +<p>"She does not realise how really poor we are, Mother. Do you know +that Father has overdrawn two hundred pounds from his bank this year +already? And he has a big bundle of bills all waiting to be paid. I +don't know what we are to do. I feel I must make money if I can in some +way; but how to do it in this village is the difficulty!"</p> + +<p>After a moment's pause Mrs. Adair replied:</p> + +<p>"I think I shall be able to help him more in future. I am thinking of +writing a book on the Riviera. I have had it formulated in my own mind +for a long time—not a guide book, but a chatty history of the sunny +shores of the Mediterranean. And this, in addition to my reason for +taking Cecil, is why I wish to go abroad this year; I want to locate +some of my facts. There is nothing that pays so well, or so quickly, +as writing books. If this one is successful, there will be no money +difficulties in future. I tell you this in confidence. I do not want it +talked about until it is accomplished."</p> + +<p>"I do hope it will be a success," said Joan warmly. "It is sure to be, +Mother, if you write as you talk."</p> + +<p>This idea of Mrs. Adair's did much to bring comfort and hope to Joan's +heart. And the last days were, on the whole, pleasant to them all.</p> + +<p>On the evening prior to their departure, they gathered round the +drawing-room fire for a last talk together. Mr. Adair patted his wife's +hand affectionately as he sat next to her.</p> + +<p>"I shall look forward to having you back very soon, Cecilia. When the +early summer comes you will lose your heart to this place, and, please +God, we shall have a happy summer together."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair smiled. She was in one of her softest moods that night, and +Joan was glad afterwards to be able to look back and remember it.</p> + +<p>"It is a pity you cannot take a chaplaincy abroad in the winter, then +we could be together."</p> + +<p>"Ah! But I could not leave my parish, and I do not think I am cut out +for that kind of billet. I love my poor folk, and am very happy here. I +think you would like it, if you would try to settle down. We must hope +Cecil will grow stronger. She looks very well just now."</p> + +<p>"'Her looks never pity her,' as your poor folk say. I wish she could +outgrow her delicacy."</p> + +<p>"We must be thankful we have one daughter who does us credit," said Mr. +Adair, looking across at Joan with much pride and affection.</p> + +<p>Cecil laughed:</p> + +<p>"For mercy's sake, don't pit Joan and me one against the other. This +talk is much too personal: I hope you will pursue the friendship of the +Major, Joan. I must tell you a very interesting fact. You know what the +people say of his property, that no heir will be born in it till it +reverts to its old owners?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have heard it quite lately."</p> + +<p>"Well, at Uncle Robert's we were looking up some of the family +genealogies one evening, and, lo and behold! We have an ancestress, a +certain Gertrude Rolleston, who was the only daughter and heiress more +than a hundred years ago. She married a Lovell, and her cousin came +in for the property. I can't think why she did not. She seems to have +dropped out of the running. Now, if you and the Major would only make a +match of it, the spell of bad luck would be broken, and Rolleston Court +would be flourishing once more."</p> + +<p>"Don't be ridiculous, Cecil."</p> + +<p>"Tell him you are a direct descendant of the last of the Rollestons and +see what he says."</p> + +<p>"But I think from what I hear," put in the rector, "that the Major's +affections are engaged elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Then he must promptly break it off and bestow his affections on Joan," +said Cecil. "He will if he knows she will bring luck to him again."</p> + +<p>"Some people value love more than luck," said Joan lightly. She knew it +was of no use taking Cecil seriously.</p> + +<p>Cecil made a grimace.</p> + +<p>"Who thinks of love nowadays! People who go in for it are simply +cultivating misery for themselves. If there's no love, there's no +jealousy or grief in separation. It's the greatest mistake in the world +to let your heart govern your life."</p> + +<p>"My dear child," said her mother, feeling obliged to remonstrate, +"don't affect such misanthropy. Be simple and natural, and don't +pretend you believe what you say."</p> + +<p>A slight flush came to Cecil's cheeks. Her mother so seldom reproved +her that she hardly knew how to take it.</p> + +<p>"I should be sorry to be as soft and sentimental as Joan is," she said +a little scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Am I?" Joan returned good-naturedly. "The other day I was visiting +an invalid dressmaker in the village who feeds her mind on penny +novelettes, and when I suggested a different kind of literature she +said: 'Eh, Miss Adair, 'tis easy to see that you carry no feelin' +heart, for there be no wrinkles on your brow. You would smile—now +wouldn't you?—if all your lovers were languishin' and dyin' for +reciprocation from you. It wouldn't make so much as your eyelashes +flutter!'"</p> + +<p>"I can't conceive how you can let the villagers speak to you so," said +Cecil, crossly refusing to laugh.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see what my character is in their eyes."</p> + +<p>Conversation then turned on other things. When the sisters separated +for the night, Joan said affectionately:</p> + +<p>"I wish you and I saw more of each other, Cecil. We hardly know each +other, do we?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Cecil, looking at her half curiously, half wistfully. "You +are an enigma to me. You seem to feel some things so intensely and +others not at all. If I had to live your present life, I should die of +the dumps within six months. I suppose your requirements are fewer than +mine, and yet Mother tells me, she considers that I haven't half your +brain."</p> + +<p>Joan was silent for a moment, then she said slowly:</p> + +<p>"Content can be cultivated, Cecil."</p> + +<p>Cecil shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Content would make a beggar live and die in a ditch."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>They went the next morning. Both Joan and her father drove to the +station to see them off. They were all cheerful up to the last minute; +but as Joan was driving her father home again in the little jingle, he +said to her:</p> + +<p>"These dreadful partings are a sore trial to me. I feel now as if your +mother and I will never live together again. It is hoping against hope. +I never thought they would go away this winter. I did expect that our +altered circumstances would induce them to stay at home."</p> + +<p>"It is the cold, Father, dear. Cecil has been so accustomed to winter +out of England that she does not seem as if she can endure our cold."</p> + +<p>The rector shook his head, and it was days before he could overcome his +depression. Joan needed all her cheerful spirits to make the wheels go +round. Even Sophia was cross and grumpy.</p> + +<p>"The mistress will repent it one day, when the dear old master be taken +from her," she said to Joan.</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, Sophia! It is not your place to criticise my mother." +Joan's head was held high as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Sophia gave a sniff.</p> + +<p>"'Tis like the rest of the world—'tis most of it mixed wrongly. There +be women who don't know the value of men, and then there be men who +make havoc of faithful women's hearts. The single are the blessed of +the earth, as I tell M'ria. If he only knew it, the Major is courtin' +disaster when his heart is so full of a wife."</p> + +<p>Joan was wise enough to make no reply. She occupied herself more than +ever in the parish, and in a week or two her father had recovered his +usual equanimity of mind, and had settled down into his customary +groove.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>LITERARY ATTEMPTS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"JOAN, will you entertain Major Armitage? Our smoke and chat have +been interrupted, for John Veale has come up to have a talk about the +bell-ringers."</p> + +<p>The rector ushered the Major into the drawing-room as he spoke. Joan +was sitting by the fire, a big work-basket by her side; she was mending +house linen with a skilful hand, but her thoughts were far-away. She +was in a thin blue-grey gown, which became her fairness and intensified +the deep blue of her eyes. Her thoughtful, abstracted air vanished, her +smile and dimple appeared, as she rose to greet the guest.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you were here," she said. "I have heard voices in the +study, and concluded it was John Veale, who was expected. I am so glad +you have been having a chat with Father; he does so enjoy it. But he +and I generally separate after dinner for an hour. He very often has a +nap."</p> + +<p>"I hope I am not an interruption to you."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you are not." Joan sat down and took up her mending again. "I +can work as well as talk."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt that, but it was interruption of thoughts which I meant."</p> + +<p>Joan looked up at him and smiled.</p> + +<p>"They were unprofitable," she said. "The fact is, I was worrying over +things, and I am glad to be interrupted."</p> + +<p>"And that was what brought me out and down to your organ," said the +Major; "and after I had quieted myself, I turned in here. The rector +has good, sound, wholesome views of life. He did me good in five +minutes."</p> + +<p>Joan did not answer for a moment.</p> + +<p>The Major looked across at the piano, a semi-grand, belonging to Mrs. +Adair. "May I play to you what I played in church just now?" he asked +simply.</p> + +<p>"Oh, please. I shall like to hear it."</p> + +<p>He sat down and played Sullivan's "God shall wipe away all tears from +their eyes."</p> + +<p>His liquid and exquisite touch, the expression and tone which he got +from the instrument, and the sweet melody itself, brought tears of +delight to Joan's eyes. She was emotional and impressionable where +music was concerned, and when the last notes died away, she sat with +misty eyes gazing into the blazing fire. Then she roused herself.</p> + +<p>"Don't stop," she said. "It is heavenly!"</p> + +<p>Major Armitage ran his fingers over the keys and began to improvise. +From discord to harmony, from unrest to peace—that seemed the burden of +his theme. He stopped rather abruptly at last, and came and re-seated +himself by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Feel better?" he inquired cheerily.</p> + +<p>"Ever so much," said Joan. "How well I can understand Saul being +soothed by music. It lifts one right outside oneself and up into +infinity. How I wish I had your gift!"</p> + +<p>He shook his head in disapproval.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it has brought me any good. It makes one unfit to mix +with one's fellow-creatures, and fosters unsociability and the habits +of a recluse. And I am not the musician I ought to be. I give so much +time to composing that I leave little time for practising."</p> + +<p>"You have published a good deal, have you not?"</p> + +<p>"Chiefly songs. I want to instil a love for melody into the present +generation. It is despised nowadays—our grandfathers and grandmothers +loved it—and it touches the emotions and heart like nothing else."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan, thoughtfully; "I know what you mean. One hears so +much brilliant and hard playing, such good technique, and such weird +harmonies that music does anything but soothe; it needs all one's brain +to understand and follow it. And, somehow or other, people are afraid +of playing anything else. There is so little music in the average home +now. Girls are not able to attain to the standard put before them, and +so they refuse to play at all. Even Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn +are out of fashion, though they will never lose their charm."</p> + +<p>Then she added in an impulsive tone: "That is what I was wishing when +you came into the room, that I could originate—compose—not music, but +books. My mother says it pays so well. I am half inclined to try."</p> + +<p>"There are a good many in the field," said Major Armitage, doubtfully. +"Don't turn yourself into a writer, Miss Adair; so many want you +in your capacity of general adviser and comforter. You will become +like me, self-absorbed and isolated, and indifferent to your +fellow-creatures."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why should I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I suppose the creatures of one's brain are dearer to one +than those of flesh and blood. One lives in imagination, and not in +fact."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could write stories," said Joan; "but I was always +good at essay writing, and I thought of trying a few articles on +country life and Nature. I want money badly, Major Armitage, though +perhaps I should not say so to you. I feel I must try and earn +something, and it is difficult when one is tied to a country village +like this."</p> + +<p>"Have you tried your hand at poetry?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Joan, slowly; "at least, I suppose I am not an exception to +most girls. When we are very young, we all try to be poets! But it is +not my line."</p> + +<p>"I wish it were mine," said the Major, with a little sigh. "I get ideas +at the piano for which I want words. I make a few bungling attempts, +but I am not cut out for it."</p> + +<p>Joan thought of the sweet little poem she had returned, but said not a +word.</p> + +<p>"Try your hand at writing, Miss Adair, if you want to do so. I have a +great friend. He is editor of 'English Thoughts,' and he is very fond +of country articles and Nature studies. If you would allow me to submit +one of your ventures to him, he would say at once whether he could use +it or not."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid it would be a quick refusal, but you inspire me to try, +and I should be most grateful for the introduction." Then she added: +"Of course, I need not say that I want my efforts to be unknown."</p> + +<p>"I will respect your confidence, but—" and here a little smile came to +his lips—"I am not a talker, so I shall not be dangerous in that way." +Then he said: "I have an invitation to Ireland, and I do not know that +I ought not to accept it; but I can't leave home for another month, for +I have work that must be finished. I have a widowed sister, with one +child, living in the country near Donegal."</p> + +<p>"Of course, you will go?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am the only one who can. I have no responsibilities. My other +brothers are all married men."</p> + +<p>They were interrupted in their talk by the rector's entrance, and soon +afterwards Major Armitage went. But Joan found her thoughts straying +after him. She was becoming very interested in his affairs, and mused +upon the strange mixture that was in his composition—the dual nature of +a dreamy and imaginative musician and a keen soldier.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The very next day she started her first attempt at literature. Her +father was so increasingly anxious about ways and means that she felt +desperate. But she found it extremely difficult to get quiet time +for writing. It was an impossibility throughout the day as she had +incessant interruptions. But after dinner, in the evening, when her +father retired to his study for a nap, she seized her pen and paper, +and, sitting by the drawing-room fire, tried to produce some of the +thoughts and impressions of her brain. It was difficult work at first. +She wrote, and destroyed, revised, and destroyed again; and when, +eventually, she accomplished a short article, which she entitled, "An +Autumn Afternoon on our Heath," she was strangely dissatisfied with it. +She was shy of mentioning it to her father, and the more she read it, +the less she liked it. At last, plucking up her courage, she sent it +over to Major Armitage, with the following note:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR MAJOR ARMITAGE,—I send you my first attempt. If it is too crude, +too uninteresting and amateurish, do not send it to your friend. I will +wait till I can do better. Is it troubling you too much to ask you to +read it, and act according to your judgment?—Yours sincerely,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">"JOAN ADAIR."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>She received an answer in two hours' time:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR MISS ADAIR,—Pluck up heart! It is first-rate, and I have +dispatched it by this evening's post. May it prosper in the hands of +the editor.—Your sincere friend,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 20em;">"R. ARMITAGE."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Joan resigned herself to patient waiting. Meanwhile fortune favoured +her, for one morning Mrs. Blount, the doctor's wife, arrived to ask +her advice about a governess for her two little boys. Joan promptly +proposed herself as teacher, and Mrs. Blount was delighted. She agreed +to send the children to the rectory every morning from nine to twelve. +Mr. Adair made no objections, and Joan took the children into the +dining-room, where they were busy all the morning. It was not liberal +pay, for the doctor was not a wealthy man, but two pounds per month was +well worth to Joan the few hours of her time, and she did not grudge +the extra work thrown upon her shoulders in the afternoon. The boys +were already devoted to her, and they proved docile and intelligent +pupils.</p> + +<p>One morning Wilmot Gascoigne appeared, and was very much annoyed when +Sophia told him that Joan was engaged and could not see him. He came +round again about tea-time, and reproached Joan with having treated him +so.</p> + +<p>She explained, but the frown did not leave his brow.</p> + +<p>"What waste of good material! How can you bring yourself to do it?"</p> + +<p>"I love it. They are dears. Besides, I want the money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a curse the—the want of money is! I should be in America now +if it were not for that reason. And poverty is a shameful incentive to +talent or genius. It is so degrading—the matter of pounds, shillings +and pence!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Joan, impulsively. "Poverty is an incentive to +me—to attempt! I am trying my hand at writing."</p> + +<p>Wilmot smiled and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Shake hands. I always thought you would be a success in that line. May +I see the attempt?"</p> + +<p>"Major Armitage has it—or, rather, a friend of his has it by this time, +I hope."</p> + +<p>The disgust, as well as astonishment, depicted on Wilmot's face made +Joan laugh.</p> + +<p>"That music crank! Well, I did think, considering our friendship and +intercourse, that you would have come to me first for advice about a +literary effort."</p> + +<p>"You have been away," faltered Joan.</p> + +<p>"Then could you not have written? Is it a case of being out of sight +out of mind?"</p> + +<p>Joan hardly knew what to say.</p> + +<p>"The fact is I have too many friends," she said lightly, "and I am +perfectly certain that this poor attempt of mine is doomed to failure. +It is just as well that you have had nothing to do with it, Mr. +Gascoigne."</p> + +<p>"Have you any of your writing which you could show me?" Wilmot asked +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I am such a beginner. I am simply doing it to get money, not from love +of producing. I don't even know if there is anything inside me that is +worth producing."</p> + +<p>"If there is, and I believe there is," said Wilmot, looking at her +thoughtfully, "you and I will produce something together. I'll stay +down here on purpose. It will be worth it."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't think of working with anyone else," said Joan, quickly. +"Why, all my ideas would run dry at once!"</p> + +<p>"You never know what you can do till you try. You must have a copy of +what you have sent up. Do prove yourself a friend and show it to me."</p> + +<p>Very reluctantly, Joan left the room to get her much corrected and very +untidy MS. Wilmot frowned impatiently when she had left the room.</p> + +<p>"It's always my luck to be too late on the field. Plague take that +dotty Major! Why on earth does he poach on my preserves! And what a +Hebe she is! I haven't seen a woman in town who can hold a candle to +her! She's utterly wasted in this hole. If she is to be a literary +success—and she has no average woman's intellect—I'm determined that +mine shall be the hand to lead her to fame, and no other!"</p> + +<p>Fate was against Wilmot at present, for Joan entered the room again +much more hurriedly than she left it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so sorry, but they have sent for me; I shall have to fly. +Little Johnnie Craddings has scalded himself, and his mother is out for +the day. Do you care to come down the village with me, or would you +like a chat with my father?"</p> + +<p>"I will come with you, if you are not going to adopt motor speed."</p> + +<p>"Poor little Johnnie!" gasped Joan.</p> + +<p>She was literally running down the drive, and Wilmot Gascoigne, with a +face as black as night, was trying to keep pace with her.</p> + +<p>He endeavoured to turn the current of her thoughts to literature again, +but it was hopeless. Johnnie's accident engrossed Joan's mind to the +exclusion of every other subject.</p> + +<p>He accompanied her to the door of the cottage, then took a surly +farewell of her, and returned to the Hall, feeling furious with Major +Armitage and with poor Johnnie.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Joan did not see him till a fortnight later, and, meantime, she had +the joy of hearing that her article was accepted and that others of a +similar character could be taken.</p> + +<p>With her two small pupils and literary work in addition to her usual +household and village duties, Joan was now more than busy, but she +enjoyed it all; and when she handed the cheque for her first article +to her father to help pay some of the numerous bills which were so +distressing him, it was the happiest hour in her life.</p> + +<p>He was at first reluctant to take it. "It is yours, my dear child. Why +should I rob you of your first earnings?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! But I am earning to help you; and, after all, Dad, dear, the bills +are as much mine as yours. We cannot separate ourselves from our joint +expenses."</p> + +<p>"They are mostly your mother's debts—and—and Cecil's."</p> + +<p>"Yes—well, that is what I mean. You and I are going to try to pay them +off. They belong to our family."</p> + +<p>It was a day or two after this that Joan was invited with her father to +dine at the Hall. It was not a dinner party; only themselves, another +neighbouring rector (who was a bachelor), and a General and Mrs. +Thane. There was a sister of Lady Gascoigne's staying in the house. +Wilmot took Joan in to dinner, and talked hard about literature as a +profession the whole time.</p> + +<p>"It is the most satisfying life on earth," he said enthusiastically. +"Singers lose their voices, actresses their charm, when age creeps on; +but the brain only mellows and ripens, and gains in experience with +every added year. You are great on influence, Miss Adair. Think of the +wide-reaching influence of the pen! No other profession can touch it in +its infinity of power and scope."</p> + +<p>Joan felt her heart throb as she caught some of his enthusiasm. She, +who had longed to impart knowledge and mould character, now had a +vision of a wide and never-ending stream of influence flowing from her +pen.</p> + +<p>Then he came to more personal details.</p> + +<p>"I read your little article, and see much promise in it. You have +the faculty of seeing with your own eyes, and describing with quaint +freshness your own impressions; and they are original. We do not want +platitudes or mediocre writing in these days. There is a lack of style +and finish which can soon be remedied. If you would allow me to look at +your next attempt, I could show you in a moment what I mean."</p> + +<p>Joan murmured her thanks. She was grateful for the interest which +Wilmot showed in her first effort and for the encouragement which he +was giving her.</p> + +<p>When dinner was over, and the ladies were in the drawing-room, Banty +came brusquely up to her.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, don't you get too thick with Motty, for he has a way +of preying on likely subjects who minister to his self-love and become +his willing and devoted slaves. He took up a poor cousin of mine who +thought she could write poetry. I believe she could have done so if he +had left her alone, but he altered and clipped her work to suit his +own ideas, and subjugated her mind to his, till it became a mass of +confused pulp, and then, when her writing turned to insipid rot, he +shrugged his shoulders and cast her from him in contempt."</p> + +<p>Joan looked at Banty in surprise. She had never heard her talk on any +subject but hunting, and was for a moment silent.</p> + +<p>Banty gave a nervous laugh.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can see through Motty, though he considers me on a level with +the lower animals. 'A good old cow,' I have heard him call me. But +cows perhaps notice more than we give them credit for. You're too good +a sort to be crushed by him. He is mostly gas, you know! And all his +big talk won't make me believe in him. Now, let us put him out of our +thoughts. I want another tea amongst the pines with you."</p> + +<p>"The weather is too wet at present, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I think under the trees we shan't feel it. But I +expect you're not quite so weather-proof as I am. I'll come round to +you. Will you be in the day after to-morrow? I'm not hunting, so I'll +look in about four."</p> + +<p>"All right. I shall expect you then."</p> + +<p>"And now you must talk to Aunt Hetty. Ask her to play. She rather +fancies herself as a musician. Motty says it's like a cat scrambling +over the keys; but she attends every concert going in town, and is up +in all the musical jargon of the day."</p> + +<p>Joan was then introduced to Miss Parracombe, who was a tall and angular +lady, with a very large nose and a small chin.</p> + +<p>"I hear you play the organ in church?" she began at once. "I hope it is +from choice, and not from duty, that you do it. It's a sad pity this +is such an unmusical house. I feel like a fish out of water. I was +hoping to meet a Major Armitage. Do you know him? They tell me he shuts +himself up in the country. But I know friends of his in town, and, as +a composer of a certain style, he is well-known. I asked my sister +to have him to dinner. She says he always refuses to dine out. But I +can quite understand that he finds no kindred soul in this house, and +does not want to spend the precious hours of his time in uncongenial +society. I find it a trial myself. This perpetual talk of hunting and +sport bores me to death. Will you play to us, Miss Adair? I am sure you +are musical."</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head, but asked Miss Parracombe if she would play +herself, and she went to the piano with much alacrity. She began a +fugue of Bach's, which she certainly played correctly, though without +an atom of expression. Joan listened with interest. She had expected +the old lady to play some of the old-fashioned "fireworks" of her young +days.</p> + +<p>Banty yawned, and Lady Gascoigne exchanged whispered remarks with Mrs. +Thane. It was a relief to all when the gentlemen came into the room, +and very soon afterwards Mr. Adair and Joan took their departure. +Wilmot accompanied them into the hall.</p> + +<p>"Will you be in on Friday afternoon?" he asked Joan.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Banty is coming to tea. Do come with her."</p> + +<p>"Dash her!" he muttered. "The next day, then?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am engaged. Father and I are going over to a +neighbouring rectory to tea."</p> + +<p>"When will you be disengaged?"</p> + +<p>His voice was coldly quiet.</p> + +<p>Joan looked up at him and laughed. "I'm a very busy person!"</p> + +<p>"So I gather. I'll drop in on Saturday evening, after dinner. I shall +be in town to-morrow for a night. I must see you soon. I want a talk +with you."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I shall be at home."</p> + +<p>Joan and her father drove home in their little jingle. They could not +afford the village fly, for Joan was economising in every direction. +She was silent for some minutes; then she said:</p> + +<p>"Do you like Mr. Gascoigne, Dad? Do you think him a reliable man? I +always think you're a judge of character."</p> + +<p>"He does not appeal to me," said Mr. Adair, promptly. "He is a man who +can only talk shop, and if anyone is not interested in his tastes, he +will not trouble to make himself pleasant to them. Naturally, I prefer +Major Armitage's society, for I know nothing of literature, especially +of the literature that Wilmot Gascoigne likes to talk about. With +Armitage I am at home. He doesn't discuss music, but village topics and +politics—anything which he knows interests me."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan, slowly. "I suppose Mr. Gascoigne is one-sided; but +it is difficult to suppress the fullness of one's heart. He is so +enthusiastic! Perhaps he may be selfish and intolerant; Banty thinks he +is. But he carries me away when once he begins to talk."</p> + +<p>She wondered, as she lay awake that night reviewing the evening that +was past, whether he would, as Banty said, seek to subjugate her mind +to his, and fetter and clip her originality.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>TROUBLE AT ROLLESTON COURT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>BANTY arrived on Friday afternoon.</p> + +<p>"My aunt has been putting her foot in it," she informed Joan. "Would +you believe it, she forced her way into Rolleston Court yesterday +afternoon? She went out for a constitutional, and a shower of rain came +on. She was told that the Major was engaged.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, never mind, I am sure he won't object to my taking shelter for a +short time,' she said, and in she went.</p> + +<p>"His housekeeper took her into the drawing-room and entertained her for +about half an hour. She gave her tea, and though it was getting dusk, +Aunt Hetty wouldn't budge. She talked away to the housekeeper, and I +expect made her giddy with her talk. I know she does me! Then she heard +the sounds of music upstairs.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, 'tis the Major playing in the music-room,' she was told. Then +she got up, and I can fancy her excitement.</p> + +<p>"'I am a musician myself—a fellow artiste. We are kindred spirits. I +must hear him. He will not mind.' She stole upstairs, and listened +outside the door at first, then boldly opened it and crept in behind +a screen. His music was so exquisite, she told us, that she forgot +herself and clapped her hands loudly. She said he sang a perfectly +lovely little song about some invisible lady love, and it was that +which bowled her over. In an instant he appeared; and she says his eyes +flashed fire and he was white with rage. He took her by the arm and +marched her downstairs.</p> + +<p>"'If a man cannot have privacy in his own house,' he spit out, 'where +can he have it? I don't know who you are, nor do I care; but this is an +unwarrantable intrusion!'</p> + +<p>"She tried to explain who she was, but he firmly and quietly ejected +her, and she came home boiling and spluttering with rage.</p> + +<p>"I left her writing a long letter of explanation to him this afternoon. +She seems to think her appreciation of his music is sufficient excuse +for an impertinence on her part. What awful tempers these writers and +musicians have! It's the artistic temperament, isn't it? That's what +they call it. I must say I'm thankful not to possess it. It takes a +good bit to rouse my ire; but Motty is awful to live with, and they're +all so restless and excitable. Of course, I don't know much of Major +Armitage, but he's queer. I expect my aunt will come down and victimise +you pretty soon. She wants to get up a village concert. Do put her off +it if you can. I'm morally certain Major Armitage won't appear at it, +and you and she will have to do the whole of it."</p> + +<p>Banty paused for breath.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry for poor Major Armitage," said Joan feelingly. "Maria told +Sophia that he is most tenacious over his privacy. When Dad was ill in +his house, I never saw the inside of that music-room. It is his sanctum +in every sense of the word."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't let us talk any more about him. I'm amused at Aunt Hetty's +set-back. Let's talk about ourselves. Only first of all, I wish you'd +tell me why you've turned yourself into a governess. Is it from sheer +love of teaching?"</p> + +<p>"No; want of money," said Joan frankly.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. Don't think me a meddler, but isn't this a fairly good +living? I'm sure nobody could accuse you of extravagant living."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," Joan said with her happy laugh. "But we had heavy +expenses before we came here."</p> + +<p>"How is your sister Cecil?" Banty asked abruptly. "I always think she +ought to make a good marriage; she is just the sort that men admire. +I think a girl who hunts hasn't the same chances as one of these +feminine, alluring girls who give men such copious admiration. We +become good chums with men, but no more. Only a few care for open-air +wives—you know what I mean. You'll think I'm always talking about +marriage, but I feel sore. I thought it well out and have sent Mr. +Nugent about his business. I came to the conclusion I couldn't run in +harness with him. I should jib! Yesterday I heard he is just engaged +to Molly Lambert. She lives in the next county. So much for deep +attachment! I expect he only wants a housekeeper, and in that case, +Molly will suit him better than I, for she has managed her father's +house since she was twelve years old. But he didn't lose much time, did +he? And Mother is quietly furious. Do you think I have a miserable time +ahead of me if I remain single?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not; but—"</p> + +<p>"Yes; give me your 'buts.' I loved your little preach some time ago. I +think you almost made my soul—as you call it—flutter, for, do you know, +I'm beginning to believe I have one."</p> + +<p>"I can only repeat what I said before, that there is one side of us—and +the only side that can bring us lasting happiness—which needs to be +cultivated."</p> + +<p>"The religious side, I suppose you mean? If church doesn't cultivate +it, what will? And I'm a most regular attendant at church, let me tell +you. But it has never made the least difference to me."</p> + +<p>"You want to be in touch with God Himself," said Joan softly.</p> + +<p>Banty leant back in her chair and stared at her perfectly +uncomprehendingly.</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't make 'me' happy," she said with conviction, "quite the +reverse. Now I'll be quite honest with you. There's nothing in me that +responds in the least bit to religion. I don't see the need for it. I +don't want to live my life up in the clouds. This world is good enough +for me."</p> + +<p>There was silence. Banty frowned, then said:</p> + +<p>"I've got enough, thanks, for to-day."</p> + +<p>Joan smiled, then laid her hand caressingly on her arm.</p> + +<p>"I shall end by getting very fond of you, Banty."</p> + +<p>The colour actually deepened in Banty's cheek.</p> + +<p>"Same with me," she said a little gruffly.</p> + +<p>They talked of other things then, and when Mr. Adair came in, Banty +lapsed into her usual abrupt and rather dull style of talk. Before she +went, she said to Joan, in the hall:</p> + +<p>"I'm getting interested in you. I'm planning out your future."</p> + +<p>"As you wish it to be, or as you think it will be?"</p> + +<p>"As I wish it. I mean to frustrate one possible future for you if I +can."</p> + +<p>She gave her a nod, and went without another word.</p> + +<p>Joan gazed after her with a smile and a sigh.</p> + +<p>"There are depths in her after all. What bunglers we are!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Wilmot Gascoigne did not forget to appear on Saturday night. He sat +over the fire with Joan and fascinated her with his talk. Just before +he left, he said:</p> + +<p>"I have left the main object of my visit till now. I feel that you and +I have the same intuition about certain phases of life. For a long +time I have been anxious to write a book which will do more than amuse +the public—that kind of novel has a run for a year, then disappears +as quickly as it came. I want to write for futurity. Now, my theory +is that a woman writer can never write naturally and effectively +about a man in all his various stages, nor can a man gauge a woman's +fluctuating moods correctly, for each can only judge of the minds of +the opposite sex by what they see and hear, never from the fount of +their own experience. I want to instruct and to awaken the dormant +intellects of my readers. To do this, the book must be strong; it +must have no weak points; it must not flag in interest; it must +stimulate the curiosity, and, in short, I need a woman collaborator. +Now, will you be that woman? Down in this quiet hole, we shall have +plenty of time and opportunity for discussion and suggestions. I have +already simmering in my mind a dozen plots. I want a woman's delicate +intuition, her feminine instinct, to help me in evolving a creation +of what a woman should be in our present generation. I don't want to +create one of the shrieking sisterhood—a mockery of all that is truly +feminine and uplifting—nor do I want a flimsy, insipid Early Victorian +doll. I know you are the one woman in the world who can help me at this +juncture—will you do it?"</p> + +<p>"It is rather a startling proposition," said Joan, with a long-drawn +breath. "I suppose I ought to feel flattered. I do. I thank you for +thinking of me. Writing is so new to me that I feel like a duckling on +the edge of a pond trying for the first time the element of water. But +I am afraid I shall have no time. I can hardly get through my days as +it is. And how about you? Are you nearly through your Chronicles? Won't +they have to be finished first?"</p> + +<p>Wilmot gave a little snort.</p> + +<p>"They'll never be finished," he said. "I'm already bored to tears with +them. There's nothing in the dull, monotonous lives of the Gascoignes +to make the book live. It will be a series of births, marriages, and +deaths, and of dates. I would like to make a bonfire of the whole."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you finish them up?"</p> + +<p>"Because I'm always hoping to rake out something racy from the piles +of dusty manuscripts and letters I have given to me. They won't let +me invent. It would be easy sailing then. I tell you the Gascoigne +Chronicles are dulling my powers and fettering my genius. You can't +live for ever on dry bread. I want to sandwich my book in; it will be +jam and butter to me!"</p> + +<p>Joan laughed. She felt strangely stirred. Wilmot's society was +delightful to her. He talked of books and of subjects of which she had +heard and talked at college. He had theories on every fact of life, and +opened vistas of new thought and conjecture to her. She longed to throw +herself heart and soul into this project of collaboration with him, but +she felt, under her circumstances, that it would prove too engrossing +an occupation.</p> + +<p>"You must give me time to think about it," she said. "I will give you +an answer in a few days, but I doubt if I could really help you."</p> + +<p>"I shall not allow you to refuse me," he said, with one of the smiles +that always transfigured his face.</p> + +<p>But when he had gone Banty's words recurred to her: "He has a way of +preying on likely subjects who minister to his self-love and become his +willing and devoted slaves."</p> + +<p>They made her feel a little uncomfortable, and then she resolutely put +them from her.</p> + +<p>"Banty and he are at daggers drawn. She is unfair to him. I will not +believe that she is right in such a statement."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Sunday came. It was a busy and a happy day with Joan. She loved her +Sunday scholars, she loved her choir, and the music she produced from +the sweet little organ. The services were always a rest and refreshment +to her. Major Armitage came into the rectory after evening church and +stayed to supper.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have heard of my iniquities?" he said to Joan. "I expect +the Hall will be cuts with me now."</p> + +<p>"No, I think they must all have felt that Miss Parracombe was to blame."</p> + +<p>"Ah! You have heard about it, then? I lost my temper and manners, and +showed her the door. But I have always believed that an Englishman's +house is his castle. They say I have a bee in my bonnet. I will +entertain ladies one day—at least, that is my hope—but never until I +have one of their sex to help me do it."</p> + +<p>The shadow fell upon his face.</p> + +<p>Joan was silent for a minute; then she said gently:</p> + +<p>"Miss Parracombe is a musician; she longs to meet you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know; and I don't like musicians, Miss Adair. Isn't that a +bad confession? I have suffered from them in town, and I cannot take +part in their ready jargon. It is the clash of sounding brass to me; I +would rather shut my ears to it. Don't you think we all talk too much?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Joan a little wistfully. "I learn a good deal from +other people's talk; and is not exchange of ideas always good?"</p> + +<p>The hard, set lines about his face disappeared. He smiled.</p> + +<p>"I like to talk to you," he said simply. "Well, Miss Parracombe has +sent me a voluminous explanation and apology, and I a very short and +curt one. She insisted upon shaking hands with me after church this +morning, and I have again been invited to the Hall—to lunch, to tea, +or to dinner. I have declined politely, and that is where we stand at +present. How is the writing getting on?"</p> + +<p>"I want to see myself in print," said Joan, laughing and colouring. +"When do you think my article will appear?"</p> + +<p>"Any time between this and next Christmas, I should say. Have you been +paid for it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you'll see it soon."</p> + +<p>"I have written a few more on the same lines, and two have been +accepted, one returned. The editor tells me not to go ahead too fast."</p> + +<p>"Why does he return one?"</p> + +<p>"He said it had too much of a religious element in it."</p> + +<p>Joan's face was very grave as she spoke; then she turned towards him +and her gaze was sweet and earnest.</p> + +<p>"Major Armitage, if I cannot write about what is breath and life to me, +I will not write at all."</p> + +<p>"What is your object in writing?" he asked slowly.</p> + +<p>"To make money, I am afraid."</p> + +<p>"Then you must be guided by the taste of the public and the advice of +your editor."</p> + +<p>Joan's brows were furrowed with deep thought.</p> + +<p>"I hear you sing in church," said Major Armitage; "will you sing to me +now?"</p> + +<p>She was rather glad to have a change of subject.</p> + +<p>"I haven't much of a voice," she said, "but I will do my best."</p> + +<p>"Will you sing 'O rest in the Lord.' I will play for you."</p> + +<p>They went to the piano.</p> + +<p>Joan's voice was true and very sweet; it had a pathetic ring in it +which often brought tears to the eyes of those who heard her. The Major +drew a long sigh when he had struck the last chord. Mr. Adair, who was +always very tired on Sunday night, and who had been napping in his +arm-chair whilst the talk had been going on, now roused himself to say:</p> + +<p>"That is beautiful, my dear Joan. Will you sing the evening hymn +now?—'Abide with me.'"</p> + +<p>Major Armitage knew at once which setting it was, and ran his fingers +over the keys.</p> + +<p>When she had finished, he rose from his seat and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"I want that to be the last thing I hear," he said, smiling at her. "It +will ring in my head as I walk home."</p> + +<p>When he had gone, Joan sat down by the fire and relapsed into deep +thought. If her voice was still in his ears, so was his in hers. "You +must be guided by the taste of the public if you wish to make money."</p> + +<p>"What do I wish?" she said to herself. "If I can write, how awfully +responsible I am for what I write. I could make money, I suppose, in +lots of ways that would be neither honourable nor consistent with my +principles. Shall I throw my principles to the winds for the sake of +money? I cannot. And yet, when I think of lifting the strain from +Father's shoulders, of easing him of this dreadful wearing anxiety, I +feel as if I must throw everything to the winds and do it."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>A few days after this, Sophia called Joan into the kitchen in a +mysterious way. It was six o'clock, and Joan at first thought that +something had gone wrong with their simple dinner. But Sophia pulled +the low arm-chair out for Joan to sit upon, and she knew then that a +talk was forthcoming.</p> + +<p>"You want a gossip, Sophia, I know you do; but it's a funny time to +choose."</p> + +<p>"Miss Joan, I never neglect my work. The steak pie is in the oven, and +my pudding is in the steamer. My vegetables are ready to pop into the +saucepans. I've sent Jenny upstairs to make herself tidy. There never +was such a tousled, fuzzy head as hers in all the world before. M'ria +has been to tea with me. She's in a sad way, M'ria is, for she says a +body must get attached to the Major, with all his cranks. I told her he +was here on the Sunday night, and he went off with such a cheery word +to me as I held open the door!</p> + +<p>"'Good-night,' he said; 'this house always seems like the gate of +Heaven to me. The atmosphere and harmony and music to-night have put +fresh life and hope into me.' Now, those were his very words—his very +last words."</p> + +<p>"Why, Sophia," cried Joan in a startled voice, "what has happened? Has +Maria brought you bad news of her master?"</p> + +<p>"Very bad, Miss Joan. Now, listen. Yesterday, at four o'clock, the +second post came in. M'ria generally takes the letters and puts them on +the table in the smoking-room. The Major sees them there directly he +comes in. As it happened, yesterday he hadn't gone out; he was writing +business letters. M'ria knows it was business, for he called her to +ask about some new kind of lamps they had had down from town for the +kitchens, and he told her he was going to pay for them."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sophia, do get on. I don't care to know about the Major's +business."</p> + +<p>"Now, don't you fluster me. Of course, as I said to M'ria, it's just +a sign of the modern times, when folks write bad news without taking +the trouble to put it into a becoming black-edged envelope. They won't +reckernise affliction; 'tis just that; they won't pay respect to the +dead, because it makes them feel bad; and tears and becoming grief and +seclusion is all things of the past. Even widows—"</p> + +<p>"Sophia, you're doing it on purpose! Leave the widows alone and get on +with your story."</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Joan, M'ria she handed the letters to the Major without a +thought, and then, as the curtains weren't drawn, she went across to +the windows and occupied herself with them; and she threw, so to speak, +a look over her shoulder, for she heard him draw a very heavy breath. +M'ria says she never saw a living man before turn into stone. His face +was white and blue and fixed. He held a letter and gazed at the air as +if—well, M'ria says it came to her in a flash that Lot's wife must have +looked like it when she was turned into salt. She was so scared, M'ria +was, that she crept out of the room and left him standing there. She +daren't go near him; but she heard him go straight upstairs and lock +himself up in the music-room.</p> + +<p>"When dinner-time came he didn't come out, and then M'ria got nervous +and went to the door and knocked. You do hear of such dreadful things, +Miss Joan, and, of course, she was fearing the very worst. But he +answered her quick and sharp:</p> + +<p>"'I want no dinner, and no disturbance,' he said, or words similar.</p> + +<p>"M'ria goes away, and she said her knees were trembling all the +evening. The house was silent as a grave. And then, about ten o'clock, +when the other maids had gone off to bed, to M'ria's great relief she +heard the piano playing in the music-room. She slipped upstairs to +listen, for she hoped now he'd got to his music he'd be feeling better; +and she was keeping a basin of soup hot against the time when he came +out. And what do you think he was playing, Miss Joan? M'ria said in the +empty, silent house it gave her the curdles all over. Nothing but that +awful rumbling funeral march for the dead!"</p> + +<p>Joan could say nothing. She only gazed at Sophia in silence.</p> + +<p>"Well, M'ria waited, all of a shiver, for him to stop; and when he +stopped there was silence, and still M'ria waited. And then at last, +the Major came out, and he walked straight for the stairs. Then she +made bold to speak.</p> + +<p>"'Please, sir,' she began, but he stopped her with a little wave of his +hand.</p> + +<p>"'Don't speak to me,' he said; 'I've been burying my dead.'</p> + +<p>"With that, he goes straight up the stairs and locks himself in his +room, and M'ria said she was so overcome with tears, she just had to go +back to the kitchen and drink up the hot soup herself."</p> + +<p>Joan was too miserable to smile.</p> + +<p>"Poor Major Armitage! I hope no very near relation has died."</p> + +<p>Sophia shook her head gloomily and mysteriously. "There's no mistake, +Miss Joan, in who it was. This morning, M'ria says, he's pulled down +the blinds of the boudoir and locked and bolted the door, and told +M'ria that nobody is ever to go near that room again. M'ria says he's +like a tomb, stony and dead like. It's his lady which is dead, sure +enough. In fact, he kind of apologised for wasting a good dinner last +night. He said to M'ria:</p> + +<p>"'I had had bad news, and I couldn't eat.'</p> + +<p>"Then M'ria asked, gentle like, if the household were to be in +mourning; and he looked at her as if he didn't understand her meaning. +But his look so awed her that she daren't say one word more, and that's +how it stands with him. I thought you'd be interested. I feel full up +of it myself."</p> + +<p>"But Maria and you will keep this to yourselves?" said Joan, almost +imploringly. "You won't let the village gossip over it?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Joan, M'ria and me know our duty towards them we serves," said +Sophia loftily.</p> + +<p>And then Joan slipped quietly away.</p> + +<p>Her heart ached for the lonely man; she almost felt as if his grief +were hers.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A FATEFUL TELEGRAM</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"YOU cannot walk so far."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I can. It is only four miles there. I shall rest when I get +there, and have my lunch and walk back. It is nothing for a strong and +hearty female like myself."</p> + +<p>"I hope Toby is not really ill?"</p> + +<p>"No; it's only a slight swelling on his hock. He is being bandaged, and +only wants a few days' rest. Don't worry, dear. I must see this woman. +I have promised her husband I will, and if I cannot drive, I must walk. +It's a lovely afternoon. I shall enjoy it."</p> + +<p>Joan and her father were talking together at lunch. She was taking +advantage of a birthday holiday given to her small pupils to go to see +one of the parishioners who had been taken to the infirmary in the +neighbouring market town; and owing to the indisposition of the pony +she could not use the little jingle.</p> + +<p>"You could hire a trap from the inn," her father suggested.</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>"That would be reckless expense. Have your tea, for I shall be late, as +I have a good deal of shopping to get through; but I am perfectly equal +to the walk."</p> + +<p>She started in good spirits, taking Bob, her little terrier, with +her. Spring was in the air; there was blue sky and bright sun shining +overhead. She crossed the heath, and the fresh, pungent scent of the +pines and peat refreshed and delighted her. Joan often said she could +walk her worries away, and to-day was no exception to the rule. She did +not feel tired when she arrived in Coppleton. She saw the sick woman, +did her shopping, and had her lunch at a small confectioner's.</p> + +<p>Then, at three o'clock, she started homewards. The blue sky was gone +now, and heavy black clouds were rolling up. Joan began to wish she had +brought an umbrella. Before she had gone a mile from the town, rain +descended in torrents. It was a lonely road, and there was no shelter +of any sort near. She buttoned her coat up to her chin and pressed +steadily on; but wind and rain beat her back, and she began to feel +quite exhausted. Suddenly she heard quick-trotting hoofs behind her, +and a high dog-cart overtook her. She glanced up and saw it was Major +Armitage. He did not seem to see her; his face was stern and set, and +he was about to pass her, when in desperation she called to him. He +pulled up at once.</p> + +<p>"Oh! It's you, Miss Adair, what are you doing out in this storm so far +from home? I can offer you a seat, but not an umbrella, I'm afraid."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I shall be delighted to get a lift."</p> + +<p>She climbed in and told him where she had been. She had not seen him +since Sophia had told her what had happened, and as she glanced up at +him she saw a great change in his face. The dreamy wistfulness had +departed; his profile might have been carved in granite, so stern and +immovable it was.</p> + +<p>He was very silent, and so was she, for a few minutes. Then she said:</p> + +<p>"You promised to play at our evening service last Sunday, but as you +did not turn up, I suppose something prevented your doing so?"</p> + +<p>He looked down at her quickly.</p> + +<p>"I did not know I had. My promise must have been made in another life. +I seem in a new era now. I'm sorry if I inconvenienced you; but the +fact is I cancelled all my engagements. I—I have been through a—a good +deal since I saw you last."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry. I am afraid you have been in trouble."</p> + +<p>There was another silence. Then he gave a short laugh.</p> + +<p>"My house has asserted itself. I was a fool to think I could break the +long chain of ill-luck. I am thinking of shutting it up and going over +to Ireland."</p> + +<p>"So soon? We shall be sorry to lose you."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that I run away from it," he went on slowly; "but it will +never fulfil its purpose to me now, and so it is useless to me."</p> + +<p>"But your tenants will miss you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, they will not; my bailiff will look after them."</p> + +<p>Joan hardly knew what to say.</p> + +<p>"I have been living at the gate of paradise," he continued, "expecting +and glorying in the hope that it would soon be opened to me. I have +been shown that it will always remain bolted and barred to me. I +have been wasting my life, my time and thoughts, Miss Adair, over an +illusion. Yet some words you uttered once have continually come to +my mind: 'He performeth the thing that is appointed for me.' Do you +believe it?"</p> + +<p>"In my own experience I try to do so," said Joan thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>Major Armitage said no more for some time. The rain and wind beat in +their faces and made conversation difficult. But when they came into +Old Bellerton village, Joan spoke:</p> + +<p>"I am very grateful to you for driving me home, and, if I may say so, +still more for what you have told me. I am sure none of us ought to +believe in ill-luck, and you are strong enough to rise above it."</p> + +<p>"No, I am not," said Major Armitage; "but I suppose I can live doggedly +on. Do you know Dr. Sewell's couplet?</p> + +<p class="poem"> +<br> +"'When all the blandishments of life are gone,<br> + The coward sneaks to death; the brave live on.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Joan's eyes brightened.</p> + +<p>"I like that. And life is a wonderful thing, is it not? Our own lives +are so small compared with many others; it is the lives of those around +us that really matter, and what we can be to them."</p> + +<p>"You think we ought to be entirely detached from ourselves? That would +make us mere mechanical machines."</p> + +<p>She was silent. Then, as he reached the rectory gate, he pulled up his +horse and held out his hand to her.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Miss Adair. You have done me good, and I promise to play +for you next Sunday evening. I shan't be leaving just yet. But I tell +you in confidence that my house now is an utter despair to me!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him when she was turning in at the gate. Her eyes were +shining.</p> + +<p>"'He performeth the thing that is appointed for me,'" she repeated with +emphasis.</p> + +<p>And then the Major drove off and she went in to change her wet clothes, +and to think much of the blow that had befallen her friend.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Before the following Sunday came round, she had a great many other +matters that demanded all her time and attention. Wilmot Gascoigne had +cajoled her into co-operating with him over his book, and she found it +extremely difficult to give up the necessary time to it. She finally +arranged that upon every day on which he could come over, they should +work together between tea and dinner. Very often he asked if he might +stay to dinner, so as to continue the work immediately afterwards, and +not "break the thread" of their thoughts.</p> + +<p>Joan was so carried away with his enthusiasm, with his flow of ideas, +with his many problems needing deep discussion, that for some days +she was merely a listener, offering a few feeble and inadequate +suggestions; but as time went on she began to criticise, protest, and +utterly disagree with Wilmot's plot and principles. To her, his moral +instincts seemed warped; his conceptions of right and wrong confusing +and shadowy. But he had the gift of eloquent persuasion, and often +stopped her objections with a torrent of clever talk. Then he would +listen to her alternative course of reasoning, sometimes apparently +falling in with her views, but never eventually swerving from his point.</p> + +<p>She, on her part, gave him fresh ideas and thoughts, which he seized +with approval. But after a very few days of talking and working with +him, Joan had to acknowledge to herself that it was most fatiguing and +unsatisfactory. In addition to this, her father's affairs seemed more +and more involved. Letters came from his wife and daughter with demands +for money, which was simply not forthcoming. Every penny that could +be scraped together was sent out to them; but it was not sufficient, +and Mrs. Adair could not, or would not, understand her husband's +difficulties. Joan and her father grew to dread the sight of a foreign +letter lying on the breakfast-table.</p> + +<p>Joan at last quietly went into Coppleton and parted with an old +necklace of amethysts which had been given to her some years before by +Lady Alicia. But the task of cheering her father, teaching her small +pupils, working in the parish, helping in household duties, and trying +to keep her head and brains clear and bright for Wilmot's hours, proved +almost too much for her, and she found it quite impossible to continue +her own writing. She had neither the time nor the ideas. She told +Wilmot once that she had been forced to stop writing. He did not seem +much impressed.</p> + +<p>"Those short articles don't pay well, do they? And I want you to do +better work. You will. This book of ours is going to be a success. I +feel it is. We have got the right atmosphere, but it needs all our +concentration and purpose. We will put our best and strongest into it. +We must."</p> + +<p>So Joan braced herself afresh, but she felt strangely exhausted at +night; and could not feel assured that her help was as much as Wilmot +seemed to require and demand.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>On Sunday evening Major Armitage played the organ, and came into supper +at the rectory afterwards. Joan thought him looking worn and ill, and +there were grim fixed lines about his face that used not to be there. +He seemed very distrait, as if conversation were an effort. Only once +he roused himself, and that was when he asked Joan to sing some of her +sacred songs. Mr. Adair remarked when he left that he must be in some +kind of trouble.</p> + +<p>"Of course, they say in the village he has lost someone dear to him. Do +you know anything about it, Joan? He has not gone into mourning."</p> + +<p>"Men don't," said Joan briefly.</p> + +<p>"They usually wear a black tie, not a coloured one."</p> + +<p>"We won't trouble about the village gossip, Father dear. If he had +wanted us to know, he would have told us."</p> + +<p>But the very next day, Joan wrote to Lady Alicia asking her if she +could tell her whether Irene Denbury was dead.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia wrote promptly back.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "MY DEAREST JOAN,—So you have not heard the news! Frank Denbury turned +up after all these years perfectly safe and sound. It is like a book. +I hear he is much improved; but he was wounded and ill, and tied by +the leg in some out-of-the-way place, and his letters never reached +home. You must forget the story I told you. Bury it deep. But how wise +and right Irene was to wait! What disaster she would have brought upon +herself if she had not. She goes out with him to America the end of +this month. She seems as if she wants to get away from England, and I +think it will be best for her. I am so interested in hearing about your +writing, dear, but don't forget that it is a trust and talent given to +you to develop and to use for eternity. I have heard from your mother. +She seems very happy and well. Much love,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">"Yours lovingly,</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 17em;">"ALICIA.</span><br> +<br> + "P.S.—Frank Denbury has quietly been adding to his fortune. I fancy his +wife might have been in the way; and, of course, he had no idea that +she thought him dead. But I consider him much to blame for his long +silence. It was not fair to any girl."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Joan pondered long and deeply over this letter. She felt unreasonably +angry with Irene for having inspired Major Armitage with such love and +hope.</p> + +<p>"If she really loves him, how can she go off with her husband so easily +and happily? I couldn't have done it. And yet I suppose religion and +convention would say it was her duty to do so. She will most likely +settle down very comfortably with her husband, and forget the man who +is suffering tortures at present, and will never get over the blow."</p> + +<p>She pictured him in his music-room playing the "Dead March" and burying +deep for ever in the grave of his heart his first and only love.</p> + +<p>"A man of that age and temperament will never get over it," she said +to herself. "I wonder if he has enough religion to keep him sweet and +tender! His music is still his solace. I'm glad to think it is, for no +musician can get bitter and hard."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia's letter gave her food for thought, and doubts again +assailed her as to whether Wilmot's book was a suitable one for her +to help to produce. When next he and she were working together he +propounded a certain situation from which her soul shrank.</p> + +<p>"No, that is blasphemous," she said hastily. "I will not be a party to +it."</p> + +<p>"My dear girl, don't be a prude. What is blasphemy? We must move with +the times, and we are not invoking the Deity in any way, or infringing +upon His prerogative."</p> + +<p>Joan looked at him with grave, sweet eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gascoigne, you and I can never work together. I see this more and +more. It was a mistake our making the attempt."</p> + +<p>"I have frightened you. We will leave this situation. I will work it +in so that it cannot possibly offend your principles. My dear partner, +we have gone along too far to dissolve our partnership. Now take these +sheets, and make a statement of our heroine's thoughts on this fatal +night. Put your soul into it, and let your words scorch and burn. Be +strong. Put yourself in her place, and write your thoughts as they +would have been in her circumstances."</p> + +<p>Joan gave a little sigh, but set to work; and the interest of her theme +took hold of and engrossed her. Afterwards, when Wilmot was taking his +leave, she strove to speak again.</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with so much that you write. We shall never see things +from the same standpoint. Don't you think you would get on quite as +well without me?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am not going to release you. Do you think I would take the +trouble to come out all weathers and spend the best part of my day down +here if I did not mean business? And think of the chance you would +miss. Fame is in this book—I feel it—and money, and you and I will be +partners in it."</p> + +<p>It was always the way. He would not take her objections seriously, and +Joan's conscience was uneasy and troubled in consequence.</p> + +<p>Banty could not understand the situation. She remonstrated with Joan +one afternoon when she called.</p> + +<p>"I warned you of Motty. He has got hold of you, and will suck your +blood to nourish himself. Don't look shocked! I mean it. He has done it +with other women, and he thinks you very promising material."</p> + +<p>Joan would not listen to her; but in her heart she sometimes longed +that she had never given him her promise to help him.</p> + +<p>And then one day it was all stopped—for the time.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"A letter from Cecil," said Joan in the morning, as she poured out a +cup of tea for her father at the breakfast-table. "I have not read it +yet. I hope it is not for more money. She wrote to me only a few days +ago."</p> + +<p>"It is to tell us when they are coming home, perhaps," said Mr. Adair +cheerfully. "I am setting my hopes on having your mother here for +Easter, Joan."</p> + +<p>"But, Father dear, it wants only a fortnight to Easter, and they have +not talked of a move yet."</p> + +<p>"Read her letter and see."</p> + +<p>So Joan in a leisurely way opened the envelope, and the next minute +looked up with startled eyes.</p> + +<p>"Father dear, Mother is not at all well. She has caught a bad chill and +has an attack of pneumonia. Cecil is quite anxious and has called in a +nurse."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair started to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Let me see what she says. Cecilia ill? I must go to her."</p> + +<p>Joan put the letter into his hand, and gazed out of the window with +troubled eyes. Riviera doctors and nurses meant heavy additional +expenses. How were they to be met, she wondered? And then she took +herself to task for grudging her mother anything. Was she really +seriously ill? Cecil seemed to think so, and Mrs. Adair was not one +to succumb easily. She had always had good health, and made light of +ordinary ailments. But this letter was three days old, surely if she +had been worse, Cecil would have wired?</p> + +<p>As if in answer to her conjecture, she saw a village lad come up the +drive, and recognising him as the postmistress's son, Joan dashed out +into the garden.</p> + +<p>When he produced a yellow envelope, her heart sank. She tore it open.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Mother died last night. Come at once.—CECIL."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>She could not believe it. She dismissed the boy and took the telegram +with trembling fingers to her father. She hardly knew how she told him, +but from her face he guessed the worst. And sinking down upon a chair, +he buried his face in his hands. Joan stood by his side white and +immovable. The awful shock of it had stunned her. Presently heartbroken +sobs came from her father. To Joan, who had never in her life seen her +father shed a tear, it was an awful experience. She touched him on the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Dad, dear, we must do something. There is no time to lose."</p> + +<p>"Time!" sobbed the rector. "What does time matter now? Everything is at +an end for me."</p> + +<p>The intense pathos of his tone brought the tears with a rush to Joan's +eyes. She let herself weep unrestrainedly for some moments, and Sophia +found them both unable to regain their composure. She herself was +terribly shocked, but said in her practical way:</p> + +<p>"There's Miss Cecil to be thought of."</p> + +<p>Joan dried her tears at once. Her self-control was restored to her.</p> + +<p>"Dad dear, what must be done?"</p> + +<p>The rector lifted his head.</p> + +<p>"I must go to them."</p> + +<p>Even now he could not separate Cecil from her mother.</p> + +<p>"Can I catch the morning train to town?"</p> + +<p>He stood up. Like his daughter, he put his grief aside for the time.</p> + +<p>"I must go at once," he repeated dully.</p> + +<p>"You can catch the twelve-twenty. But what about money?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair looked at her rather helplessly.</p> + +<p>"How much shall I want?"</p> + +<p>"You can cash a cheque at the bank before you start. We have twenty +pounds in our current account. Take it all. I suppose I cannot come +with you? I know I can't."</p> + +<p>Joan was now perfectly composed. She packed his things, looked up his +route in the foreign Bradshaw, listened to his directions for supplying +his place on the following Sunday, then went out and ordered the jingle +to be brought round. She drove him to the station, and it was not till +he was actually in the railway carriage that father and daughter had +courage to look into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair's composure almost went again. "My darling wife," he +murmured; "oh, Joan, pray that resignation to God will may be given to +me."</p> + +<p>Joan nodded.</p> + +<p>"I can't yet take it in," she said brokenly; "I feel almost stunned, +but I know that God will be with you and comfort you, Father dear."</p> + +<p>The train went out, and Joan drove slowly home, trying to bring her +practical common sense to the surface, but all her heart crying out for +her brilliant, beautiful mother. Perhaps it was fortunate that she had +so much to do and think about.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>For the next day or two she had not a moment for quiet thought until +she went to bed. She had many anxious fears about her father, who +had never in his life been abroad, and who was apt to be rather +absentminded in travelling. But a wire announcing his safe arrival, on +the second morning after his departure, eased her mind. She had many +notes of condolence and of sympathy, but saw only one of her friends, +and that was Major Armitage. He called one morning and told Sophia he +was going away that day. Joan came down into her father's study to see +him.</p> + +<p>"I felt I must wish you good-bye," he said, "and tell you that you have +my deep sympathy in your loss. I am going over to Ireland to be with +my sister, and have shut up the house for the present, but I shall not +easily forget the warm welcome I have received in this house."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Joan, looking up at him with misty eyes, "my father and I +will miss you! We have learnt to count upon you as a friend. Will you +never come back to this part again?"</p> + +<p>"I was going to say I hope not," he said gravely; "but I will add, not +to the ill-fated house I inherited. Every room is a torture to me now. +I never told you, Miss Adair, but I expect you guessed. I came down +here to wait patiently for a woman to come to me, and now that is over. +She will never come. And I have been wasting my time in useless dreams. +Now, as you said the other day, my life is going to revolve round +others. It has no centre in itself. And I think my sister needs me +most. Perhaps we may come to England one day, but till then, good-bye."</p> + +<p>He held out his hand. Joan took it, and felt tongue-tied for a moment +or two, then she said softly:</p> + +<p>"Thank you for giving me your confidence. I knew you had been going +through deep waters, but when you say your life has no centre, you do +not mean to leave out the One who is our centre? The One in Whom 'we +move, and have our being.'"</p> + +<p>He looked at her with sombre eyes.</p> + +<p>"I have believed all my life in the Hand behind," he said; "I suppose I +still believe in it."</p> + +<p>He shook hands and went. Joan watched him disappear down the road from +the study window.</p> + +<p>"And so he goes away out of my life," she murmured to herself. "The +only one I have really liked in this part of the world."</p> + +<p>She gave a heavy sigh. Life was inexpressibly sad, and it seemed to her +to get more and more difficult as time slipped by.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>STRUGGLING IN THE NET</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>A WEEK later Mr. Adair returned, bringing Cecil with him. The meeting +between the sisters was a very sad one. Cecil for the first time +had been brought face to face with life's greatest reality. All her +gaiety had left her for the time; she looked scared and miserable. +And Mr. Adair seemed ten years older, the stoop in his shoulders was +intensified, and his whole demeanour was listless and dejected. Yet +he gave Joan quite simply every detail of the quiet funeral amongst +the olive trees in the little English cemetery. And with many sobs and +tears Cecil told her of the sudden illness and the last four days.</p> + +<p>"She stayed out too late one evening and caught a chill; but never told +me that she felt much pain until the next day, and then her temperature +went up suddenly, and she hardly knew me again. The only thing she was +anxious about was the book she has been writing. She told me to take it +back to England with me. She seemed to know she would not come herself. +It seems like a nightmare. How shall I live without her?"</p> + +<p>Even in her grief, Cecil thought first of herself; Joan's greatest +sympathy was with her father. She went into his study late that evening +and found him sitting at his writing-table, his head bowed in his +hands. When he looked up at her, his eyes were dim and lifeless.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Joan, my dear, we must comfort each other," he said, as she +impulsively knelt by his side and put her hand lovingly on his +shoulder. "The centre of my being seems to have disappeared. I have +been counting the days to having her back again with us. The coming +summer has only held her to me. I hoped she would love sitting out in +the garden and orchard, and become so fond of it here that she would +never want to leave us again. And I feel I have not been half tender +and sympathetic enough with her. I have kept her short of money, though +God knows I could not help it. It is so strange that she, so beautiful, +so strong, and in the prime of her life, should be taken and I left!"</p> + +<p>"We could not do without you, Father dear," murmured Joan, tears +starting to her eyes in spite of her efforts to keep them back.</p> + +<p>"She always was so much more clever than I was," went on Mr. Adair; +"but I loved to have her so. And your mother was a good woman, Joan. +She never talked much, but she never missed her daily Bible reading, +and I have found her Bible marked and worn from constant reading."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Joan assented softly.</p> + +<p>"So we have the hope of seeing her again," went on Mr. Adair in a more +cheerful tone; "but the blank will never be filled in my heart. Pray +for me to-morrow, Joan. I must preach, and I feel unfit for it."</p> + +<p>"Don't try, Father dear, let Mr. Rushbrooke come over and take the +services for you, as he did when you were away."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair shook his head, and as he looked at Joan, there was something +in his attitude that made Joan steal away and leave him.</p> + +<p>And the message was given with singular power on the following morning.</p> + +<p>"'For He maketh sore, and bindeth up; He woundeth, and His hands make +whole.'"</p> + +<p>The rector touched very little upon his own trouble, except to say: "I +have been through deep waters, and I want to pass on to you what has +been a comfort and help to myself."</p> + +<p>His people listened with softened hearts; and even Banty went home +saying to herself, "There must be 'something' in Mr. Adair's religion!"</p> + +<p>Cecil would not go to church. She shut herself up in her room and +stayed in bed for most of the day.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>On Monday, as she did not come down to breakfast, Joan went up to her. +She found her very busy ordering herself mourning from a Bond Street +dressmaker whom her mother had patronised. Joan's little pupils were +waiting for her; so she thought that it was no propitious time for +discussion, and she only tried to persuade her to come down to lunch.</p> + +<p>Cecil allowed herself to be persuaded, and after it was over wandered +into the drawing-room disconsolately. Joan followed her. She felt if +she did not speak now, she never should, and wanted to get it over.</p> + +<p>"What has possessed you to have those noisy spoilt boys here +every morning?" said Cecil crossly. "I hear you teach them in the +dining-room, and Sophia calmly told me the drawing-room fire was never +lighted till after lunch. You complain that I shut myself up in my +bedroom, but where am I supposed to sit?"</p> + +<p>"There's always a fire in Father's study, and he is usually out in +the morning. I want to talk with you about ways and means, Cecil. I +have had to do some teaching. I am most grateful for the money it +brings me. You know we are not yet clear of debt. And Father and I do +dislike it so. I always think a clergyman ought to be extra careful +in money matters. I think I mentioned in my letters that I have been +writing a few simple articles for a magazine. I have a little literary +experience. I want you to let me see mother's book. Don't you think it +would be a good plan for me to look over her notes and see if I could +not finish them, and offer it to some publisher? If it sold, it would +be a tremendous help to Father Just now."</p> + +<p>Cecil did not answer. She seated herself in an easy chair by the fire, +and her brows were furrowed with thought.</p> + +<p>"I can't conceive why Father is always so behind-hand with his bills. +He simply cleared out the small balance we kept in our bank abroad, and +brought me home literally without a penny in my pocket!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think you realise what his income really is. I want to talk to +you about it. You must not order expensive clothes from London, Cecil, +you really must not. We cannot afford it. There is a very good little +dressmaker in Coppleton who will come out and do anything that you +want. Father and I have strained every nerve to pay the many bills for +clothes which have come in; but we can't do more, and I'm sure you will +help us now by trying to be economical."</p> + +<p>"Don't mention the word 'economy' to me," flashed out Cecil +passionately. "I hate the sound of it, and so did darling Mother. It +has been the curse of our lives, and if you think that now she has +gone, you can bully me over clothes you are mistaken. You grudge me +my mourning for her Father has stripped me of every penny I possess. +You are going to try to make me as great a fright as yourself in your +country bumpkin clothes. But you won't do it. I give you fair warning! +Mother's money is as much mine as yours. If she had known, she would +have made a will and left it to me. She meant to do it—I know she did. +And as for taking her book and making money out of it for yourself and +Father, you shall not do it. It is in my keeping and belongs to me!"</p> + +<p>Joan was absolutely dumbfounded by this outburst. Cecil ended it by a +passionate burst of tears. Joan instantly was on her knees beside her, +putting her arms tenderly round her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cecil dearest, what cruel things to say! You are miserable, and +so am I. We are both Mother's daughters, we both love her, and are +mourning together for her loss. Don't let us hurt each other by unkind +words and thoughts!"</p> + +<p>"Oh," sobbed Cecil, "you never understood her. You never loved her as I +did. I am left alone. Nobody cares for me!"</p> + +<p>Joan assured her of her affection; she felt as if she were talking to a +passionate, unreasonable child. It was absolutely impossible at present +to convince her of the need of carefulness over money. Joan's one +desire was to gain her love and keep it, so she gradually soothed her +into quietness again, and Cecil went so far as to own that she did not +mean all she said.</p> + +<p>"I feel beside myself with misery," she confessed. "It is an awful, a +terrible thing—death. I can't get over it. Why, only a fortnight ago +Mother was talking and laughing with me, now we have buried her under +tons of earth—glad to get rid of her!"</p> + +<p>She gave a shudder.</p> + +<p>"No, no," protested Joan. "Her self, her spirit is not there, only her +worn-out body."</p> + +<p>"It was not worn-out—that's the—the cruelty of it! Oh, I know that +shocks you. But if I do believe in God, I shall never love Him. He does +such terribly cruel things or allows them to be done."</p> + +<p>"God sees farther than we do, and from the other side," said Joan +firmly and gravely. "He sees both sides. We only see one, so how can we +judge correctly? I wish you had heard Father's sermon yesterday."</p> + +<p>Cecil gave a little snort.</p> + +<p>"Father! Well, he is my father, but nobody can say his sermons are +anything but the simplest platitudes!"</p> + +<p>"Our Lord's words were very simple sometimes," said Joan with flushed +cheeks. "It is heartfelt experience that impresses me, more than any +amount of head knowledge and clever theories."</p> + +<p>Cecil shrugged her shoulders, but relapsed into silence. She had +recovered her temper, and peace was restored, but she quietly went on +her way, and ordered London clothes at very high prices.</p> + +<p>Joan said no more. She felt she could not. She was intensely desirous +of winning Cecil's affection, and she had a tremendous pity for her, as +she knew the loss of the mother who was always so devoted to her and to +her interests would be felt by her very deeply.</p> + +<p>She herself could not adjust her life to her fresh circumstances. She +foresaw trouble in the future, for Cecil was more than ever determined +not to adapt herself to her home environment, and Mr. Adair had said +sadly but quite decidedly to Joan the day after he returned:</p> + +<p>"We must be very patient with poor Cecil, as she must be content to +stay at home now. Her days of going abroad are over. I know our doctor +here thought it quite unnecessary."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>After a week or two of quiet seclusion, when Cecil tried everyone in +the house by her exacting demands and fretful complaints, life slipped +back into the usual grooves.</p> + +<p>Wilmot Gascoigne had purposely abstained from troubling Joan about +their book, but now he appeared again and made great demands, as +before, on her time and attention. She could not give them to him +in the same way now that Cecil was in the house; and she had been +having great heart searchings with herself about the book since her +mother's death. Joan was conscious that her work with him was not +uplifting. She had often gone to bed in such weariness of body and +such mental confusion that her peace of mind had suffered; she had +become irritably impatient under the daily difficulties and trials, +and she was conscious that her soul was drifting from its sure and +certain anchorage. She had tried to break away from her writing, but +Wilmot, with his insistent pertinacity, had refused to let her go. And +the fascination of creating had taken possession of her. She had been +pleased when she had influenced Wilmot to omit questionable passages +and insert something that was really good. She had thrown a sop to her +conscience by asserting to herself that she was improving the tone of +his writing; but all the time she knew too well that if she did raise +his standard a tiny bit, she lowered her own a great deal. Her mother's +sudden illness and death had brought the unseen world very near to her, +and the realities of life and death impressed her deeply.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Wilmot left her hastily. She had ventured to disagree +with much warmth with him over a vexed question of moral perception, +and she refused to give way or allow herself to be outtalked.</p> + +<p>He gathered up his papers.</p> + +<p>"Very well. I have no time or use for such unprofitable discussion, and +must work on by myself till you come to a reasonable mind."</p> + +<p>Without another word he marched out of the house. Joan watched him go +with hot cheeks and ruffled feelings. Her father was visiting in the +village; Cecil was lying on her bed with a novel. The house was quiet. +Tea was over, and there was a good hour and a half before dinner. Joan +betook herself to the orchard, to a secluded spot under the pink and +white apple blossoms, where she could remain unseen.</p> + +<p>There was a low bench, on which she seated herself.</p> + +<p>"I am caught in a net," she told herself, as, resting her chin in her +hands, she determined to wrestle out things with herself. "I am wasting +my talents and time on gathering straws on a muck heap! Oh, how angry +Mr. Gascoigne would be to hear me say it! If his work is strong and +goes down to posterity, will it be for the real welfare of those who +read it? What will be my share in it? Am I not denying my faith and +creed to please Mr. Gascoigne, and stifling my conscientious scruples? +Am I not aiding and abetting him in his absolutely irreligious views of +life?"</p> + +<p>She covered her face with her hands. A rush of conviction of failure +came over her, and tears crept to her eyes. The sweet spring air, the +twittering of birds getting ready for their nightly rest, the cooing of +wood pigeons in the distance seemed to be purifying and cleansing her +befogged brain. Nature always drew her to Nature's God.</p> + +<p>She had for a long while denied herself time to think, and her quiet +time of thought now showed her where she was wrong. How long she sat +there she did not know; she was deep in thought and prayer when a +well-known voice made her start and rise to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Here's the bad penny again! Good luck to you, Joan, my darlint!"</p> + +<p>It was Derrick, standing within a few feet of her, looking very +handsome and very mischievous.</p> + +<p>He took off his soft felt hat with a flourishing bow.</p> + +<p>"I told you I would be down for Easter. I couldn't get an invite out of +old Jossy, and I knew—" here his face grew grave—"I knew your trouble, +and I have written my sympathy, so I won't repeat it; but I could not +quarter myself upon you in your circumstances; and I was determined to +come, so I've settled myself at the Colleton Arms, where I arrived last +night. Now, then, we're chums, remember; tell me how things are going."</p> + +<p>He sat down on the bench by her side. Joan heaved a sigh, half of +pleasure and relief at seeing him, half of regret and remorse for her +actions in the past.</p> + +<p>"Oh, things are going badly," she said with a smile; "but they never +do go very well with us, you know, only I am, as a rule, loath to +acknowledge it. Don't let us talk of ourselves; tell me of your doings."</p> + +<p>"What are you crying about?" Derrick demanded gravely. "I don't think +I have ever seen you with tear-stained cheeks before. How you used to +rush away, as a small child, and hide yourself till all traces of them +were removed."</p> + +<p>"You have taken me at a disadvantage," said Joan, trying to speak +lightly. "I was really taking myself to task for my own sins and +shortcomings. You mustn't pose as my father confessor, Derrick. Hasn't +it been a lovely day? Shall we come indoors? Cecil will be so pleased +to see you."</p> + +<p>"No, we will stay here. Now, then, start away. Tell me your trouble."</p> + +<p>Joan at first resented his determined tone, then the longing to get +somebody's advice about her literary efforts made her plunge into her +difficulties. She told him that she wanted to earn money, that she had +been doing so before she began to help Wilmot in his book, that his +scheme was taking all her time and strength, and that now she felt it +was even taking her religion from her.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I am tired, but I look upon it as a huge octopus fastening +itself upon me and draining me of all that is best in life. It +fascinates me when I am at work, but I want to break away from it, and +I can't. I hoped it would not be such a long business, but, of course, +a big book can't be written in a couple of months or so, and we have +not been at it much longer than that. And I am really longing to put +Mother's notes in order and bring out her book. She has done about half +of it, and I am persuading Cecil to let me undertake it. I feel I can +do it, and I shall love to do it. It is so pure, so—so cultured and +interesting."</p> + +<p>"And what is Motty going to pay you for helping him?"</p> + +<p>Joan coloured.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there has never been any question of payment. I suppose when the +book is published, he will let me have some share in it."</p> + +<p>"If you haven't had an agreement in black and white, Motty won't give +you one penny! I know him. And I question whether it will ever get into +print. Motty is no good as a novelist. He is too heavy and dogmatical, +and hasn't any sense of humour. You have been wasting your goods, my +dear Joan. Don't look so downhearted. I'll get you out of his clutches. +Fancy stopping off your own compositions when you can get them placed +in a good magazine! It's high time I came down here to look after you, +but I warned you against that chap, now didn't I?"</p> + +<p>Joan tried to laugh.</p> + +<p>"You talk like an old grandfather! I can't give you leave to +interfere between Mr. Gascoigne and myself. I must get out of my own +difficulties, but I am glad of your counsel."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence. Derrick was scanning her from head to foot. +Joan always felt that he had a possessive way of talking to her, and +she did not want to encourage it.</p> + +<p>"You are worried and thin, and Motty ought to be horsewhipped. He has +taken advantage of your sweet good nature to benefit himself, and he +does not intend that you shall have any reward for so doing."</p> + +<p>"Don't let us talk any more about it," said Joan, sitting up briskly. +"Tell me about your political doings. I love to have a good talk with +anyone who is in the know in politics."</p> + +<p>Derrick complied with her request. He could be very patient as well as +very pertinacious when he liked, and he had registered a vow in his +heart that Wilmot should hear his views very soon on the subject of his +novel.</p> + +<p>He and Joan sat on till dusk enveloped them, and then Joan took him +into the house. Cecil came out of the drawing-room to greet them.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't think where you had gone," she said to Joan, extending her +hand to Derrick.</p> + +<p>She looked very fragile and graceful in her long, trailing, thin, black +gown.</p> + +<p>"It's good to see you, Derrick," she went on; "but I would welcome any +village lout, I do believe! I am so sick of my own society."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you take brisk constitutionals this fine weather?" demanded +Derrick. "Women have no sense. You and Banty go to extremes; she is +never indoors, you are never out. One is just as bad as the other."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't preach! Joan is given to that. What are you doing down here?"</p> + +<p>Derrick laughed in his open, happy way.</p> + +<p>"I've just come down for an Easter rest. Have clapped my papers and +pens together, and fastened them down under lock and key, and I'm out +for a spree. I'm going to make things hum for you here, and also make +it hot—oh, very hot—for a gentleman of my acquaintance. Yes, Miss +Joan, I am. Now, sweet Malingerer, you and I must plan out some Easter +dissipation. What shall it be?"</p> + +<p>He seized hold of Cecil by the arm and marched her back into the +drawing-room. Joan smiled as she watched them settle themselves into +two very comfortable chairs. She was quite content that Cecil should +enjoy his stimulating society for a little time, and she went to tell +her father of his arrival, and then out into the kitchen to consult +with Sophia about the dinner, for she knew that Derrick would stay for +the rest of the evening.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER XV</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>DERRICK TO THE RESCUE</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>EASTER, on the top of their trouble, was a trying time to the Adairs, +but Derrick helped them very much by his sunshiny optimism. Joan's +creases smoothed out of her brows; she gave herself up to the enjoyment +of his society. Cecil grew more cheerful and less exacting, and though, +of course, they were very quiet owing to their deep mourning, he +insisted on hiring a motor from the neighbouring town and taking them +out for long days in the sweet spring sunshine.</p> + +<p>Wilmot went away to friends for Easter. He had been down to the rectory +once, but had found everyone out, and Joan felt that he was deeply +annoyed by their last interview.</p> + +<p>The Gascoignes had a house party, but though Derrick dined with them +twice, he was quite content to spend most of his time at the rectory.</p> + +<p>"It is home in a double sense to me," he confided to Cecil. "This house +was my boyhood's home, and now you are all in it, I feel quite a member +of your family."</p> + +<p>He chaffed and laughed with her a good deal, but it was to Joan that +he showed the tender protectiveness of his nature; and she was so +unaccustomed to be shielded and waited upon that she hardly knew how to +take it. Her small pupils went away with their mother to the sea for +their holidays, so her time was much more her own.</p> + +<p>One morning Derrick came in early and asked her to come for a long walk +with him.</p> + +<p>"Let us take some lunch with us, and then we need not hurry back."</p> + +<p>Joan's eyes danced, then she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Don't tempt me. I had determined to mend some of the Sunday school +library books this morning, and Sophia is at this moment making some +paste for me. What a pity Cecil does not care for walking! You could +take her if she did. It would do her such a lot of good."</p> + +<p>"I don't want Cecil, I want you; and the school books can wait. Now +hurry up! I will give you half an hour to get ready. I shall go and get +Dominie to support me if you are still obdurate."</p> + +<p>There was no gainsaying him. Cecil was still in her bedroom; she rarely +came down before lunch, and always breakfasted in continental fashion +by herself. Joan told her that she might be out to luncheon, then she +went out to the kitchen, and Sophia and she soon packed a small basket +of food. In a very short time she was stepping across the heath with +a light heart, and Derrick was well satisfied with the success of his +move.</p> + +<p>"Motty is back again," he informed her. "I met Banty in the village +this morning. She's like a fish out of water when the hunting's +over—asked me to come up this evening to dinner, so I'm going. I mean +to have it out with Motty."</p> + +<p>"Now look here, Derrick, you must promise me not to discuss our book. +It is our private business, and nobody else's. We don't want it to be +made public property."</p> + +<p>"My dear child, everyone at the Hall knows about it. Old Jossy told me +Motty was down at the rectory every night of his life, and it seems he +taxed him with trying to win your affections. Jossy is never delicate +in his speeches. Then Motty told him all about it. Banty considers he +is doing you! She and I know him for a fraud! You haven't altered your +mind about bringing it to an end, have you?"</p> + +<p>"I would prefer to settle it myself with him."</p> + +<p>"You're afraid I shall be nasty."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am," said Joan, laughing. "Mr. Gascoigne has been very kind +to me. I think the fact is that two people cannot write a book together +unless they are absolutely of the same mind about certain things. At +first I was diffident and inexperienced. I wrote as he wished; but now +I find my principles are involved, and I will not sacrifice them to the +public taste or demands. I do not think I should ever be a successful +novelist. I am out of my element In tragedy and sensation."</p> + +<p>"You keep to your nature studies," said Derrick; "they are first-rate. +Now let us change the subject. Now that the Malingerer has come +home—and I hope she has come back to stay—you will be able to leave, +will you not? I want you to come up to town. You have met my cousin, +Mrs. Denby; she will be delighted to take you about, and I'll get you +into the House to hear some of the debates. Can't you manage to come +back with me when my holiday is up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Derrick, you are too absurd!" said Joan, laughing gaily. "I shall +never be able to leave home. And as to a visit to town, I shall be as +likely to go up there as to Timbuctoo! No; my place is here, and here I +shall stay. It's waste of words to suggest anything else."</p> + +<p>Derrick was silent for a short time; he put back what he was longing +to say, for he did not want to spoil their day out. They tramped over +the dead heather and bracken, and his natural good spirits asserted +themselves. He and Joan were like a boy and girl together, and when +they sat down on the top of a heather-covered hill and looked over +a vast extent of fresh green country with purple distances, Joan +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I haven't a care in the world at this moment! Isn't it funny how one's +senses minister to one's soul? My mouth and eyes and nose are enjoying +this to distraction, so my soul follows suit. Did you ever smell such +fragrant, delicious air? I want to inhale it as much as I can. I want +to bottle it up and take it back with me. And isn't that stretch of +country in front of us a sight for sore eyes? Did you ever see such +pure, deep blue hills?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand the tramps' and the gipsies' hatred of towns? I +say, Joan, when the summer comes shall we do a tramp together? We might +go down to Hampshire and start on the edge of the New Forest."</p> + +<p>"There is a Mrs. Grundy still," said Joan.</p> + +<p>"I thought she was dead long ago. There's safety in numbers. I could +get another fellow to join us, and Banty might come. You could chaperon +her, or she could chaperon you. She's improving. This time I've quite +liked her, and she worships you. I'm all for getting you out of your +rut now that the Malingerer is at home."</p> + +<p>"It's no good planning such things," said Joan with a laughing shake +of her head. "They make my mouth water, but you and I know they are +impossible. I am not to be moved out of my rut. I am going to settle +into it very snugly; I shall end by liking ruts. Now shall we attack +our lunch? I am voraciously hungry!"</p> + +<p>It was when their walk was nearly over that Derrick spoke his mind:</p> + +<p>"Joan, do you realise that I'm still waiting for you?"</p> + +<p>Joan looked at him reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Derrick, I hoped you were growing wiser."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk like a grandmother. There's only one woman filling my +heart. I've been waiting all my life for you, and you know it. I want +to settle down like other men. This is my side of it. But I also want +to have a right to take care of you, to give you pleasure, to put you +in a better atmosphere than you have at present. You would do us a lot +of good if you came to town. We get so cynical and worldly, and grub so +for money and position and power that you'd act as a splendid check, +and also as an exhilarating tonic."</p> + +<p>Then, seeing Joan's eyes twinkle, he added hastily: "I only say this +because you're so strong on influence and that sort of thing. And +you're wasted here. But, of course, the real truth is I want you. I'm +your devoted slave now as I always have been; but I'm getting tired of +waiting. Oh, Joan, do listen! Give yourself right away to me now and +for ever. Let us walk the world together, oblivious of anyone else. +Won't you take me on trial?"</p> + +<p>"How? One can't marry on trial, and, Derrick, dear, I hate to say +it, but I couldn't risk it. You're a faithful chum and a staunch +comrade—I'm always happy with you—but—and I think this is a test of +love—I would not be as happy if we were in closer relationship. I never +want to get nearer to you. Do you understand? Our present friendship +satisfies me completely. I do see this is selfishness on my part. You +deserve to receive more, and this is the reason I did not want you to +come down this Easter. I want you to forget me, and learn to care for +some nice girl who will be as much in love with you as you are with +her. I believe real love is the only foundation for a happy married +life. And you are too good to waste your best on one who never can +return it. You think I do not know my own mind, but I do; and I wish +you would let this talk between us be the final one on this subject. I +shall never alter. I always have looked upon you as a brother, and I +always shall."</p> + +<p>The earnestness and force with which she spoke crushed Derrick's +budding hopes. He was absolutely silent, fighting down his deep +disappointment, and Joan felt almost as miserable as he did. She hated +to have hurt him, and yet she felt it was necessary. He walked up to +the rectory gate with her, then held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"I'll try to get over it," he said huskily. "I'm at last convinced that +it's no good to hope any longer."</p> + +<p>Joan looked rather wistfully at him.</p> + +<p>"Do you want my friendship still," she asked him, "or do you feel it +must be all or nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I feel at present. A crushed, battered piece of +pulp, I think. I suppose I had better get back to town to-morrow. I did +promise Dominie to drive him into Coppleton, but I'll send him a line."</p> + +<p>Joan said nothing. She gripped his hand and smiled at him, but her eyes +were misty, and she fled into the house. It was a comfort to her to get +inside her bedroom and relieve her feelings by a flood of tears.</p> + +<p>"I shall lose the only friend I have," she thought, "and I have brought +wretchedness instead of happiness into his life."</p> + +<p>She had not been in her bedroom for half an hour before Cecil came to +the door asking for admission. After a little hesitation, Joan let her +in, and Cecil was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice anything +the matter with her sister.</p> + +<p>She seated herself in Joan's low chair by the window.</p> + +<p>"Wilmot Gascoigne has been here most of the afternoon," she announced. +"He said he could not stay to tea. I don't think there is much love +lost between him and Derrick. Why hasn't Derrick come in? I thought he +would be sure to have tea with us."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image006" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image006"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image006.jpg" alt="image006"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>JOAN WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT AND PRAYER WHEN A</b><br> +<b>WELL-KNOWN VOICE MADE HER START.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"He did not think of it, nor more did I. Did Mr. Gascoigne want to see +me?"</p> + +<p>"At first he did. But we got into very interesting talk. He knows +the Riviera so well that we had a lot in common. I like him. It's an +education to hear him talk. And I have given over Mother's book to him. +I feel he is the right person to undertake it. It is very good of him +to do it. He looked through a lot of it and liked it immensely."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cecil, how could you?"</p> + +<p>Joan's bitter, passionate cry escaped her unawares. It had been her +great hope to do it herself. She felt that she could do it, and Cecil +had almost agreed that she should.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you should have done such a thing without asking +Father's advice, or—or mine."</p> + +<p>Cecil tossed her head.</p> + +<p>"My dear Joan, what does Father know about such things? And do you +think for a moment that you could do it better than a clever literary +man who knows the country in which it has been written? Why, you have +never been abroad. Your experience is as narrow as Father's. I consider +we are very lucky in having such a friend to take it off our hands."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you know Mr. Gascoigne as well as I do, Cecil. I am +very, very sorry you have given it to him. To begin with, he has too +many irons in the fire already. He has not finished the Gascoigne +book yet; and we really do want Mother's book to be taken in hand and +finished. I am bitterly disappointed that you have done such a thing."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you thought you could have made a name for yourself over +it," said Cecil; "but I haven't confidence in you. Because you have +been successful with a short magazine article, it does not follow that +you could compile and edit a book like Mother's. I am ambitious for her +sake. I don't want it to be a failure."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Joan, struggling to speak gently, "it is done now, so +there is no use in talking about it. We must hope he will do it well. +Did you arrange anything with him about the profits from it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. There is time for that when the book has been finished +and accepted by some publisher."</p> + +<p>Joan did not speak.</p> + +<p>Cecil got up from her chair.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would like to hear about it," she said airily. "Are you +coming down to tea? It is ready."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Don't wait for me."</p> + +<p>Joan felt desperately that she must have a little quiet to digest this +heavy blow.</p> + +<p>When Cecil had left her, she pushed open her window and knelt by it.</p> + +<p>The fresh spring air, the scent of the violets and sweet brier hedge +below rose to greet her.</p> + +<p>Her whole spirit resented Cecil's summary proceeding. She knew now +from experience that Wilmot Gascoigne was not wholly to her liking +as a writer. She had waged war with him more than once over certain +passages descriptive of Nature's beauty. He belittled and scoffed at +the recognition of a Divine hand in it, and she could not bear to think +that her mother's book should be placed in his hands to be cut up and +revised as he judged fit. And she felt that she had it in her to bring +out all the best in that book. She also had fears now that Wilmot would +not make a profitable sum out of it, and this was a very important +matter to them all.</p> + +<p>"Why do things go so crooked?" she sighed to herself.</p> + +<p>But when she rose from her knees, she was able to go downstairs with a +serene face, and, if her laugh was not quite so frequent or her smiles +so bright, there was nothing in her demeanour to show vexation or +resentment.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Adair heard about it, he looked annoyed.</p> + +<p>"You should have asked me first, Cecil," he said. "You had no right to +give your mother's book to a stranger."</p> + +<p>"Mother gave me her book," said Cecil, with a wilful curve to her lips. +"I am not a fool, and I have full confidence in Motty, as they call +him."</p> + +<p>Joan wondered if she should hear any more of the book she and he were +writing together. She hoped that Derrick would not interfere too much +about it, and consoled herself by thinking that he would be too full +of his own feelings to approach the subject that night, as he had +threatened to do.</p> + +<p>It was of no use to argue with Cecil about the wisdom of her impulsive +action, and Joan appeased her father by saying that Wilmot was +certainly very clever, and was in touch with several of the leading +publishers of the day.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The next morning, her small pupils being still away, Joan betook +herself to the garden. There was always a great deal more to do there +than the odd man could possibly get through. She was very busy weeding +a patch of ground, when a voice close to her startled her.</p> + +<p>"I can't keep away, you see, even after our talk yesterday; but I want +to tell you about my interview with Motty."</p> + +<p>Of course, it was Derrick. Joan greeted him quite cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she said; "but don't expect me to stop weeding. I can do +that and listen too."</p> + +<p>"It won't hurt you to rest for a bit. Here, sit on this old hen-coop. +Now, then, where shall I begin? I nearly went for him at the +dinner-table last night. What a conceited ass he is! But I bided my +time, and old Jossy helped me, for he actually left us alone in the +smoking-room together to enjoy a brand of his best cigars."</p> + +<p>"Derrick, I asked you not to interfere."</p> + +<p>"I had to take my thoughts off the gnawing ache in my heart. Isn't that +the phrase they use in books? And I was longing to pitch into someone. +I was in the right mood for it, and he was the right man for me. What +on earth has the Malingerer been doing? We were at cross purposes at +first, for he thought I had come to take away your mother's MS. from +him. He is very keen on that now, and means to run the Malingerer for a +bit. It seems she and he are going to do it together."</p> + +<p>Joan almost laughed, though she felt sore at heart. "Why, Cecil is too +restless to stay at her writing-desk for more than half an hour at a +time."</p> + +<p>"Just so. Well, he thinks, of course, you have treated him badly and +have left him in the lurch. So that gave me my innings, and I told him +what I thought about him. Oh, yes, I did; and if we were in France, +I suppose there would have been an early morning duel to-day. He is +coming down to have a personal interview with you; but I rather think +he will back out of that, and write instead. We went at each other like +hammer and tongs. How I wish you and Cecil would keep clear of him."</p> + +<p>Joan looked distressed. Derrick was unusually grave.</p> + +<p>"I wish you could talk to Cecil about it; but I am afraid she has +already committed herself; and we do not want to quarrel with Mr. +Gascoigne, Derrick. He has been very kind and good."</p> + +<p>Derrick shrugged his broad shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I'll go straight in and have it out with the Malingerer. I had better +see where she stands. I know you think me an interfering fool, but +women are so helpless in the clutches of a man like Motty; and you've +no brother."</p> + +<p>He was off. Joan went on with her weeding with a distracted mind. Half +an hour later Derrick came back to her.</p> + +<p>"I've done no good," he confessed ruefully. "The Malingerer is +infatuated with him, as you were; but I'll keep an eye on him, and if +he gets the book ready for publication, I'll have my say as to the +publisher and the price. I know a man in town who will look after it +for me."</p> + +<p>He did not stay, for he told Joan he was going up to town by the twelve +o'clock express. They took farewell of each other very quietly.</p> + +<p>Late that afternoon Wilmot made his appearance and asked to see Joan. +She went into the drawing-room with a beating heart, but he was +perfectly courteous.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you about our book. Did you think I had forsaken +you for good and all? The fact is I called directly I came back from +town, which was only yesterday. You were not in, and your sister, as +you know, begged me to undertake the compiling and editing of your +mother's notes on the Riviera. I suppose you were vexed that I had +undertaken a fresh book without first finishing the other; but, as I +told you before, I can work best when I have two or three books going. +They supply a vent for my every mood and serve to quicken my faculties. +I had no intention of stopping my work with you. You can picture my +astonishment when Colleton attacked me like a fury. I won't tell you +all he said. It was unrepeatable! I could only imagine he had found +you hurt and indignant, and inclined to say hastily that you would +have nothing more to do with me. His passion was too impotent and +childish to touch me in the least. I could only think he had made a +little too free with my cousin's old port. He seems to regard himself +as your protector and guide, but I hardly think he was speaking with +your consent upon matters which were strictly confidential between +ourselves."</p> + +<p>Joan's cheeks were hot, yet she spoke with her natural sweet dignity.</p> + +<p>"Derrick is like a brother to us. I am sorry there was any friction +between you. It was wrong of him. Of course, I did not wish him to +attack you in such a way. I am very glad you have come round, because +I was going to write to you, and it is so much easier to talk than +to write. You must disabuse your mind of the idea that I was hurt or +indignant with you. Why should I be? Frankly, as I have often told you +lately, I don't feel I can help you in this joint book of ours, and I +do want to get out of it."</p> + +<p>"But this is a very serious thing! If you had not been such a friend, +I should have drawn up an agreement, and got you to sign it. You could +not have then withdrawn without giving me some compensation for doing +so."</p> + +<p>He looked straight at her as he spoke and snapped his lips together in +an ill-tempered way.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see," he went on, "that, unless I am able to finish that +book single-handed, you have made me waste my strength and mind and +time on a task that you make useless?"</p> + +<p>"But I am sure you will be able to finish it yourself," said Joan, +eagerly seizing upon the loophole he gave her of extricating herself +from his toils. "I am a drag on you; I feel that I am. We are not +suited to work together. I pull you back, and you fetter me. And I want +you to release me. I cannot hold to my principles and write as you +wish. If you desire compensation, I will try and meet you, but it is +impossible to go on writing with you."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Wilmot very stiffly, "we will say no more. I was +mistaken in my estimate of your powers and in your adaptability to +my methods. I cannot force you to continue working with me. Only, +it is a pity that you did not know your own mind—or, shall I say, +principles?—when we first started. I hope your sister will not treat me +in the same way over this MS. of your mother's. Have you any objection +to offer on that score?"</p> + +<p>Joan was so overwhelmed with his reproaches that she could say nothing +for a moment.</p> + +<p>"My sister gave it to you without consulting me," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>"Which means that you would have prevented her doing it if you could?"</p> + +<p>Joan hesitated.</p> + +<p>He gave a little bitter laugh.</p> + +<p>"It is a case of being wounded in the house of one's friends," he said. +"I wonder what I have done to turn you so against me? I suppose I have +to thank Colleton for it. He is madly jealous of anyone poaching on his +preserves."</p> + +<p>"That is quite unjust and untrue," said Joan warmly. "I had better be +entirely frank with you. I was looking forward to editing my mother's +book myself. It would have been a keen pleasure to me to do so, and I +was naturally disappointed when Cecil told me that she had given it to +you. It is nothing personal against you; I am simply disappointed, that +is all. I know you have more experience of the scenes in which the book +is laid, and I am sure Cecil is much happier in the thought of your +undertaking it than if I were to do it."</p> + +<p>"You place me in a very unpleasant position. I think I had better see +your sister, and suggest that I should hand it back again to you. +I really have such a lot of literary work in hand that I shall be +relieved than otherwise. It is a thankless task—editing other people's +books."</p> + +<p>Deep annoyance underlay his words. Joan began to apologise and protest. +He stopped her abruptly and asked her if he could see Cecil.</p> + +<p>Joan went to find her. She felt miserable, and knew that nothing would +make Cecil take back the MS. Hastily she explained the situation to her +sister, who was lying on the couch in her bedroom reading.</p> + +<p>"Wilmot Gascoigne here! Why was I not told? Came to see you? What +about?"</p> + +<p>Then, when explanation had been given, she hastily left the room.</p> + +<p>"I never shall forgive you, Joan, if you have tried to force him not to +undertake it. He must do it, and he shall."</p> + +<p>Joan left her to talk to him. She wandered out into the garden.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I love peace! And how I bungle and stir up strife! Everything +seems going wrong. I wish—I wish I had never tried to write."</p> + +<p>She began to tie up some straggling rose branches. She felt she did not +want to meet Wilmot again, and yet was too proud to keep out of his +way. She knew he must pass her as he went home. He was not very long in +coming. To her surprise, he stopped when he reached her and held out +his hand with one of his transforming smiles.</p> + +<p>"Be friends with me," he said. "Your sister won't hear of my returning +the MS., and she says her mother gave it into her hands to do as she +thought best with. I promise you that I will give my most careful +attention to it. And you will be able to reap laurels on your own +account. If I have spoken unkindly this afternoon, forgive me; but I +was hurt and sorely—bitterly disappointed in your casting me off and +refusing to work with me any more. I must come down very often and +consult your sister about this book. She knows your mother's mind, and +can supply many blanks in her notes. How can I do this if I feel you +are unfriendly towards me?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am not that," poor Joan protested. "I am very grateful to you +for all the help you have given me. I want to be one of your friends +still."</p> + +<p>"Then we will shake hands upon it and wipe our slate clean," he said +almost gaily.</p> + +<p>Joan shook hands with him, but watched his quick steps down the drive +with a heavy heart. Certainly, Cecil was bringing discord into their +hitherto peaceful life, yet she wondered if the fault was in herself.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>JOAN'S ILLNESS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>WHEN the holidays were over, and her pupils came back to her, Joan grew +happier. Her life was too busy to allow her much time for brooding. She +found more and more to interest her in the parish, and began to have a +real liking for those she visited. She always made a point of absenting +herself from the house after tea, for Wilmot was incessantly there +and shut up in the drawing-room with Cecil. Sometimes she felt amused +at the quick ending to her own intercourse with him, and the easy way +in which he had transferred his society to Cecil. If she met him, she +always said a pleasant word to him. In a way she was thankful for the +interest and occupation brought into Cecil's life, who looked forward +eagerly to Wilmot's visits, and, if irritable and exacting the rest of +the day, was always her gay sweet self when with him.</p> + +<p>Sophia shook her head over the visits.</p> + +<p>"'Twas well enough with you, Miss Joan, my dear. You meant business, +you did; and if you'd worked all day and night with him I wouldn't have +had a tremor, but I've eyes in my head, and I've been into the room at +times on messages, and Miss Cecil she doesn't mean business—she means +amusement! And if she plays with fire, she'll get burnt. There's too +many smiles, and arch looks, and playful ways, and honeyed words to +please me. It's my belief 'tis just flirtation over the inkpot, there! +'Tis plain words, but just the truth."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sophia, you're a foolish old dear, but you don't understand," Joan +would say.</p> + +<p>"Don't I? I know Mr. Gascoigne has a level head and a still heart, but +Miss Cecil haven't, and she'll be the one to suffer."</p> + +<p>Joan felt a little uneasy, but could not do anything. She knew if she +warned Cecil in any way, she would only make matters worse.</p> + +<p>And then an epidemic of a bad type of influenza swept through the +village, and Joan herself became one of the victims.</p> + +<p>She kept up as long as she could, but at last went to bed, and stayed +there for nearly three weeks. When she got up again, she felt very weak +and depressed.</p> + +<p>Cecil had not helped much during her illness. She was so afraid of +being infected with it herself that she had spent most of her days +out of doors, only returning to the house to sleep. It was beautiful +weather, too dry to be healthy, for rain had not fallen for over a +month. Cecil would take her books and luncheon to the pine woods, and +there Wilmot would often meet her, with his roll of MS. under his arm.</p> + +<p>Naturally, when Joan came downstairs again, she found a great many +things demanding her attention, and she had little strength to give to +them. Her father, like a man, did not realise her weakness, and was so +glad to get her help again in parish matters that he spared her little +and made greater demands than she had the strength to fulfil. But she +made every effort to please him.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Sophia came into the dining-room and found Joan literally +sobbing over some parish club accounts. She tried to laugh when she met +Sophia's concerned gaze.</p> + +<p>"I'm such a fool! I think I must have left half my brains in my bed. I +can't add the least sum, and poor Father is hopeless with accounts. The +books are so muddled that I can't make head or tail of them. I've been +a whole hour over them, and the figures are now swimming in a thick +haze before my eyes."</p> + +<p>Sophia swept the books up with her arm, and carried them off.</p> + +<p>"If you look at them again to-day, I'll put you straight to bed, Miss +Joan, and keep you there. You come into the drawing-room and lie down +for an hour. You're as weak as a baby."</p> + +<p>"I can't do it, Sophia. I have the schoolmistress coming to see me +about some school difficulty. Here she is, coming up the drive."</p> + +<p>Sophia snorted, then went out to the kitchen and seized hold of pen and +ink.</p> + +<p>"Jenny," she said sharply, as that young person came past her, "you +go out of this kitchen, and don't come into it for half an hour. I've +business to do which will take all the head I possess, and I won't be +scatterbrained by you fussing round!"</p> + +<p>In half an hour's time a letter was written, and then Jenny was sent +to the post office with it. It was addressed to "The Lady Alicia +Fairchild."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Three days after, Mr. Adair received a wire:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Can you put me up for a few days?—ALICIA."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>He was rather perturbed at first.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we must say 'Yes,' my dear? I was hoping to get a little +more of your time and attention now that you are well again. It has +been a strain whilst you have been laid aside. Cecil seems as if she +cannot give any help, and there are so many things that have got out of +gear. But, of course, we cannot refuse to have Lady Alicia, and it will +be only for a few days."</p> + +<p>Joan felt rather pleased. There was a triumphant gleam in Sophia's eyes +when she was told that the spare room must be got ready. And Cecil +acknowledged that a visitor would be very acceptable.</p> + +<p>Joan dragged herself about the house, feeling everything an effort, +but determined to have all as dainty and fresh as possible for her +godmother.</p> + +<p>Banty happened to call upon her the afternoon when Lady Alicia was +expected, and exclaimed at Joan's white face and tired eyes:</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing to yourself? You ought to be in bed! You +aren't fit to be up!"</p> + +<p>Joan's eyes filled with tears. Then she laughed. "I cry like a baby +at nothing," she said, meeting Banty's surprised gaze. "The 'flu' has +knocked me all to pieces. I feel quite aged. But I suppose I shall get +all right in time."</p> + +<p>"You never will, if you slave away like this. What are you doing? +Flowers? Why doesn't Cecil do them? There's nothing more tiring. I +never touch them at home."</p> + +<p>When Banty took her leave, she said bluntly to Cecil, who walked to the +gate with her:</p> + +<p>"You should make your sister rest, and run the show yourself for a bit. +She's knocked all to pieces—couldn't believe my eyes when I saw her. +Are you like me—no good in the house at all?"</p> + +<p>"Joan is a difficult person to manage," said Cecil sharply. "She will +fuss about, doing everything herself, and will allow nobody to help +her."</p> + +<p>"I'd pack her back to bed and lock the door," said Banty, as she walked +off; but Cecil did not take the hint.</p> + +<p>When Lady Alicia eventually arrived she was met, as usual, at the +station by Joan, whose white, strained face moved her to instant pity; +but she said nothing to her about herself. When she was having a cup +of tea in the drawing-room, Lady Alicia noted that Joan's hand visibly +trembled when she lifted the teapot, and that she had a way of passing +her hand over her eyes when anyone spoke to her. When Cecil dropped a +teaspoon, she started with a little cry.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, Jenny appeared at the door. "If you please, miss, the +master wants to know if you've found the key of the poor-box?"</p> + +<p>Joan got up at once. Turning to Lady Alicia, she said, with a laugh:</p> + +<p>"I do believe that whilst I was ill, Father lost every key he ever +possessed, as well as making hay of all the parish accounts and +registers. We haven't reached our normal state yet."</p> + +<p>She left her tea untasted. Lady Alicia turned to Cecil at once when +Joan had left the room.</p> + +<p>"Cecil, dear, do you know why I came down? I see I was right to come."</p> + +<p>"To see Joan, I suppose. I know you wouldn't come so far to see me."</p> + +<p>"To take her away with me for a rest and change. Don't you realise that +she is badly needing it?"</p> + +<p>Cecil's laughing face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"Father pesters her so! He seems as if he is perfectly lost without +her. She will never leave him."</p> + +<p>"You must help her to do so by promising to take her place."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't. It would be an impossibility. I am not cut out for parish +work. I hate the lower orders, and they, of course, know it, and hate +me back!"</p> + +<p>"Well, many of us have to do things we dislike, and you are going to +prove your courage by doing it, too."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia laid a gentle hand on her arm.</p> + +<p>"My dear child, you must, unless you want Joan to have a serious +relapse. Don't pretend to be more selfish than you really are."</p> + +<p>"Father won't hear of Joan's leaving. He can't even let her have her +tea in peace. Here they come, together. By their faces I should say the +key is found."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair came in beaming.</p> + +<p>"Found in the lining of my hat," he said. "Joan remembered that I have +a trick of putting things there. Now I can enjoy my tea."</p> + +<p>"Joan's tea is quite cold," said Cecil severely.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Adair could never take a hint. He was quite unaware that he was +inconsiderate in his continual demands for Joan's help.</p> + +<p>Joan sat down at the tea tray again and gave her father his tea, then +leant back in her chair and listened to the conversation with an absent +air, forgetting to take her own.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<figure class="figcenter" id="image007" style="max-width: 25.3125em;"><a id="Image007"> + <img class="w100" src="images/image007.jpg" alt="image007"></a></figure> +<p class="t4"> +<b>JOAN HEARD A CHILD'S SHRILL CRY FOR HELP, AND LOOKING OUT</b><br> +<b>UPON A ROCK CLOSE To THE SEA, SHE SAW A SMALL FIGURE</b><br> +<b>WAVING A HANDKERCHIEF.</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"I am on my way to Ireland," said Lady Alicia. "I dare say you may +remember that I have an old house there, which for the last ten years +has been let to a retired colonel and his wife. They have become +alarmed at the prospect in front of them, for she has delicate health, +and gave me notice to leave last quarter. They have actually left now, +and I have an empty house on my hands. I am afraid, in the unsettled +state of poor Ireland, that tenants will not be forthcoming, so I must +go up there and see what I had better do about it. People tell me it +may be needed as a hospital or convalescent home, but I pray that even +yet some settlement may be arrived at to prevent the awful cloud of war +coming down upon our unhappy land."</p> + +<p>"I never knew you had Irish property," said Mr. Adair. "Unless you live +there yourself, you will, as you say, have no chance of letting it in +these days."</p> + +<p>"No; it is in Ulster, and that fact alone, all agents tell me, is +enough to keep people away from it."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to the choir practice to-night, Joan?" asked Mr. Adair.</p> + +<p>Joan started. She swallowed down her cold cup of tea.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must. I had forgotten it."</p> + +<p>"Can't you let it slip to-night?" pleaded Lady Alicia. "You are not fit +to do it, Joan dear. Do you know, Mr. Adair, I find Joan looking very +ill?"</p> + +<p>"She has been very poorly," said Mr. Adair, quite cheerfully, "but she +is well again now, thank God."</p> + +<p>Cecil laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Father, Lady Alicia will not think much of your powers of +observation! Now, Joan, you sit still for once in your life, and I will +step across to the church and dismiss those choir boys."</p> + +<p>She sauntered out of the room. After rather a feeble protest, Joan +remained in her seat.</p> + +<p>"I do feel frightfully lazy," she said, "and perhaps it will not matter +missing a practice for once."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair put on his spectacles and looked across at Joan with a +puzzled air.</p> + +<p>"Joan, dear," said Lady Alicia, "could you let me speak to your father +alone for a few minutes?"</p> + +<p>Joan looked surprised, but immediately left the room. She went upstairs +to see if Lady Alicia's luggage had been carried to her room.</p> + +<p>She found Sophia there unstrapping the boxes, and when Joan said that +that was Jenny's work, the old servant shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I'm waiting to see her ladyship, Miss Joan."</p> + +<p>"How fond you are of her!"</p> + +<p>"She is my only hope," said Sophia, "for she's a sensible woman, and +never lets the grass grow under her feet."</p> + +<p>Joan sat down in the easy chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sophia, I wish I did not feel so tired. What is the matter with +me, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"The matter! Have you given yourself a chance? Haven't you just left +your bed to run up and down everywhere, after everybody and everything? +You're just tempting Providence—that's what you're doing."</p> + +<p>Joan did not answer.</p> + +<p>Sophia was down on her knees, unpacking now. It was not very long +before they heard the drawing-room door open, and in a moment or two +Lady Alicia was in the room. She held out her hand to Sophia.</p> + +<p>"It is all settled," she said. "Miss Joan is coming over to Ireland +with me next Tuesday, and I shall keep her there till she is her bonny +self again!"</p> + +<p>Sophia's face glowed with pleasure, but Joan protested in amazement.</p> + +<p>"How can I leave home! It's impossible!"</p> + +<p>"It's perfectly easy. Your father has consented to part with you, and +it will be Cecil's opportunity to prove her abilities."</p> + +<p>Joan could hardly believe her ears. The prospect of a change and a +holiday with her beloved godmother almost overwhelmed her. She still +would not believe that it could be realised.</p> + +<p>"Cecil will never take my place," she said. "Father will get miserable +and ill, and the whole parish go to pieces."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you over-estimate your powers," said Lady Alicia dryly.</p> + +<p>Joan flushed crimson.</p> + +<p>"Oh, ask Sophia what it was like when I was ill. She said she could +never go through it again!" Sophia looked a little abashed.</p> + +<p>"I may have spoken rash, Miss Joan, but I'm willing to do it again, for +if I don't, you'll just sink into your grave. I want to see your face +smile and hear you singing as you go about. It's been a dreary time +of late. Her ladyship has my full sanction, as she knows, to take you +away, and glad I'll be to see you go!"</p> + +<p>With that, Sophia stumped out of the room; and, looking up at Lady +Alicia, Joan cried, between tears and smiles:</p> + +<p>"I believe it is a plot between you."</p> + +<p>"It is, my dear. Sophia wrote to me asking me to come and look after +you. Now, Joan, you must help me by making it easy for them to spare +you. Your father is willing; that is the one thing that matters. I am +going to have a long talk with Cecil to-night. I think she will rise to +the occasion."</p> + +<p>At mention of Cecil's name, Joan's face clouded.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I cannot, ought not to leave her. You know what she is, +Lady Alicia. So difficult to influence and restrain. Yesterday I +heard some unpleasant gossip in the village about her. She and Wilmot +Gascoigne are going to publish my mother's book. I wrote to you about +it, did I not? They spend hours together in the woods over it—Cecil +never does conform to convention—and the village will have it that they +are 'courting,' to use their own expression. Don't you see that if I go +away, matters may get worse? There will be nobody to look after Cecil; +she does want looking after. Mother shielded her and lived for her; she +is quite unaccustomed to stand alone. And if she wants to do a thing, +she will do it, regardless of appearances or consequences."</p> + +<p>"My dear child, your absence will prove her salvation. She will be kept +too busy in house and village to have the time for long rambles with +this young man. Is he not the one with whom you were going to write a +book?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh, I have so much to tell you, and so much to talk about!"</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia noted again the weary gesture of the hand across the eyes.</p> + +<p>"We shall have plenty of time for talk by and by. It will all keep for +the present."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe I shall go with you. I haven't thanked you yet. It +seems too like a dream to be true. I wonder if it will be possible for +me to leave?"</p> + +<p>"I can tell you, my dear, that I do not intend to leave this house +without you."</p> + +<p>"But my pupils! Oh, dear Lady Alicia! There are such crowds of +objections to my going. You see, my illness has been such a set-back. +Harry and Alan are running wild; it isn't fair to them."</p> + +<p>"I think, if I may say so, you ought not to continue to teach them. +Surely, my dear Joan, there is not such pressing need now for money?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid we have still back bills troubling us. You are no +stranger, Lady Alicia; you know what a struggle it was when Mother and +Cecil were abroad. My Father has never got straight since the expenses +of our move, and Cecil will not realise the necessity for economy. I +have now in my possession bills to the amount of thirty pounds which +she has incurred since Mother's death, and nearly all of them are for +clothes. I dare not let Father see them; he would worry so!"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Joan, this must be stopped. I am very glad you have told +me—I always feel I come next to your mother with regard to you two +girls, and Cecil is a little influenced by me, I know. Does not your +father give her a settled allowance?"</p> + +<p>"No. You see, Mother and she were always together, and Mother gave her +a free hand."</p> + +<p>"I will try and get him to do it at once, and then, if she exceeds +it, she will be responsible for her own bills. You will not mind my +helping you in this matter? You know I am fond of Cecil, though I see +her faults. And I will call on your doctor's wife and put the case +before her. Perhaps she can manage to teach her boys herself till you +come back. Be strong-minded, my dear. Refuse to worry, and things will +smooth themselves out."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia certainly worked wonders. She went out into the village the +next day, arranging what part of Joan's duties should be undertaken by +the schoolmistress, and enlisting Miss Borfield's help as well. Mrs. +Blount was flattered by a visit from her, but announced her intention +of sending her boys to school.</p> + +<p>"Their father fully meant them to go this term, but we did not like to +take them away from Miss Adair. She has taught them splendidly, and I +am very grateful to her. My husband was only saying yesterday that she +ought to go away for a thorough rest and change. He met her on her way +to station, and thought her looking shockingly ill. I am sure he will +be very glad to hear that you are taking her away."</p> + +<p>Then Lady Alicia came back to the rectory, and had a very long talk +with Cecil about helping her father in Joan's absence and keeping down +expenses.</p> + +<p>Cecil was at first airily indifferent; then she grew hot and indignant, +and, finally, her better self prevailed.</p> + +<p>"I never can make money go far—it slips through my fingers like water; +but I'll just keep things going till Joan comes back. She does deserve +a holiday; I know she ought to have it. I dare say it will be easier to +do things when she is away than when she is here. Anyhow, I am not a +fool, and Sophia is a host in herself. We shall manage."</p> + +<p>Lastly, Lady Alicia talked to Mr. Adair, and before she left, he +arranged with Cecil that he should give her a dress allowance, which +allowance she was not to exceed.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday, Lady Alicia and Joan set off for Ballyclunny, in the north +of Ireland.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A VISIT TO IRELAND</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT had been raining all day, but when the little local train drew up at +the station, the sun was shining through the clouds, and every tree and +bush held thousands of diamond points of wet glistening in the golden +rays.</p> + +<p>The soft, moist air was refreshing to the travellers, who were both +tired. An antiquated landau was waiting outside for them, and when Lady +Alicia suggested that it should be opened, the old coachman looked very +troubled.</p> + +<p>"The colonel's lady has never ridden with her head bare to the heavens, +me lady. Sure, the fastenin's will be rusted entoirely; but if so be +that Mr. Murdoch here will put his shoulder to the cratur, we'll be +able to open her between us."</p> + +<p>Then, in a loud aside, he ejaculated: "May the Holy Virgin kape a hold +of me coat tails, for me body as it is be burstin' through!"</p> + +<p>Joan laughed out, and Lady Alicia said that she would not trouble them +to open it if it was so difficult. But the station-master, Mr. Murdoch, +was hot and impetuous; he called two porters, and the four men threw +themselves upon the vehicle, where they wrestled and talked and swore +to such an extent that Joan thought they were indulging in a free +fight. At last it was wrenched open, and Pat McQuick, the old coachman, +mounted his box again in triumph. But the seams of his coat justified +his fears, and the neck of it was ripped open in more places than one.</p> + +<p>"We are true to our traditions," said Lady Alicia, laughing softly. +"After our immaculate English servants, these give us rather a shock. +I have lived so little in Ireland that I have not had much personal +experience of it; but my friends tell me it is impossible to keep their +servants tidy. Of course, in the towns it is different, and in the big +houses; but my house is very old and very primitive. I wonder what you +will think of it?"</p> + +<p>"I shall love every inch of it," said Joan enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>They drove along a flat, marshy moor; the wild duck and peewits seemed +to have it to themselves. Then they came to woods, climbed a steep +hill, and there had the most lovely view of the blue ocean below them.</p> + +<p>"I did not know you were near the sea."</p> + +<p>"Three miles from it."</p> + +<p>Then they descended into a green valley, twisted in and out of some +very narrow lanes, and eventually came to a cluster of cottages and +a small church. Some barefooted children raced after the carriage +cheering and gesticulating wildly.</p> + +<p>"That's a welcome to us," said Lady Alicia, smiling. "We are only just +outside the village."</p> + +<p>They stopped at a very imposing-looking iron gate, flanked with massive +pillars. There was a little lodge inside, and an old woman, curtsying +deeply, opened the gate.</p> + +<p>Joan looked out with great interest as they drove up the avenue. Rather +an overgrown shrubbery flanked it on either side, then they turned the +corner and came out upon a large grass lawn. Two goats and a flock of +chickens were perambulating across it. The house faced them. It was a +little grey stone building, with a rose-covered veranda running along +the front of it.</p> + +<p>To Joan it seemed very unassuming after the long avenue and pretentious +entrance. The door was opened by a very stout, smiling woman in a red +striped cotton dress and a large, coarse, white apron. She wore no cap. +Lady Alicia knew her, and called her Biddy.</p> + +<p>"Glad we are to see you, me lady," she said; "but there's few enough +to greet ye. The kornel an' his lady, well they just ran the house +with meself an' me niece Mary; but sure it wasn't the kornel that +was masther, but his valet—just a sojer man. And then there was the +foine English maid that turned her nose upwards and her lips down, +an' she an' the kornel's man—they just had very clever heads an' lazy +bodies—for 'twas orders here and orders there, an' even Larry was under +the cratur's thumbs!"</p> + +<p>Talking all the time, she led them into a stone-flagged hall, and +then into a long, rambling room at the back of the house with quaint +corners and recesses, and three casement windows opening into an untidy +flower garden. There was a small fire lighted, and the room looked +comfortable. It was furnished more for comfort than show, though it had +some good pictures and china on the walls.</p> + +<p>"This is, or was, the drawing-room, Joan," said Lady Alicia. "You see +we shall not be in luxury, but it makes a cosy living-room. We have a +dining-room and small morning-room besides; but if the weather is fine, +we must spend most of our time out of doors. Now, Biddy, how soon can +you give us something to eat? And then we will go to bed early, for we +are very tired."</p> + +<p>Biddy assured them that dinner could be served in half an hour, +and then she took them up a broad, shallow flight of stairs to the +bedrooms. They lay on both sides of a wide corridor running the length +of the house, and Joan was delighted with her room. She could catch a +glimpse of the sea from her windows, and roses were climbing the wall +outside and scenting her room with their fragrance. When she came down +to dinner later, Lady Alicia said:</p> + +<p>"Why, Joan, you are already looking rested; what have you been doing to +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Joan, laughing, "except that I have thrown off the +burden of housekeeping and responsibility, and mean to enjoy every +minute of my time here."</p> + +<p>"We will lead the simple life. I have great confidence in Biddy, for I +have known her since she was a girl. I really came over to see who I +could place here as caretakers. If she and her niece will stay on, I +could not do better. But I see I shall have to have some repairs done. +It is an old house, and wants a good deal of attention from time to +time."</p> + +<p>They enjoyed their simple little dinner, and then, as the evening was +fine, they wandered round the old garden. Joan felt as if she were in +a dream. She had not left home for so long that she loved the very +novelty of a fresh atmosphere and environment. And it was a real treat +to be able to confide in her godmother and receive her sympathy and +counsel. It almost seemed unreal to her to be absolutely detached from +duty, and be able to indulge in rest and recreation just as she felt +inclined.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia looked after her well. She sent her early to bed, and told +her that breakfast would be served to them in their rooms.</p> + +<p>"Then you can sleep on, if you like. We need not meet till lunch time."</p> + +<p>But, tired though she was, Joan was not fond enough of her bed to +stay there. And very early the next day found her out in the garden, +making friends with the horses and dogs in the stable, listening to old +Larry's yarns of bygone days, and at last settling down on a charming +old seat on a knoll overlooking a wide expanse of country and the ocean +upon the horizon. Here she sat for a full hour with her hands loosely +clasped in her lap and her eyes and thoughts far-away.</p> + +<p>The soft air fanned her brow. There was the scent from a sweet brier +hedge close to her, and a waft of burning peat and wood from the +chimneys of the house.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts flew back home. "What was Cecil doing? Would she remember +that this was the day for ordering the groceries and that the village +women came to the vestry to pay in their club money? Would Mr. Adair +remember that clerical meeting in the afternoon? And would Benson +remember to earth up the potatoes and mend the orchard fence?"</p> + +<p>Then she gave herself a mental shake and began to think of some nature +studies that were simmering in her mind. But very soon her mind was +back in the old rectory. Would Wilmot Gascoigne be continuing to come +there? Was there a fragment of truth in the village gossip? Was it +possible that Cecil was learning to care for him? And if Wilmot really +cared for her, would it be a good match for them both? Again she +determined not to worry. Lady Alicia came out in a few minutes to find +her.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if you would like to drive out to the sea this afternoon," +Lady Alicia said. "I must go over the house with Biddy and do a good +deal of business with her; but Larry could drive you down in the pony +trap. There is a fat pony out at grass who wants to be exercised, and +the coast is lovely; I am sure you would enjoy it."</p> + +<p>Joan was delighted at the idea, and at two o'clock she set off in a +jingle. Larry used a good deal of whip and tongue before the pony could +be persuaded to settle into a steady trot; but time was no object, and +Joan was so interested in everything which she saw that she was in no +hurry to end the drive.</p> + +<p>Once a motor whizzed past them.</p> + +<p>Larry gave an indignant snort.</p> + +<p>"Bad luck to those that use 'em!" he said vindictively. "Me son's wife +have lost foive pigs this very year, an' sorra a bit did the craturs +giv' her for the slaughter of 'em, for she were seven mile from town, +an' the police never got in toime to tak the number, an' they just tore +on for all they were worth! 'Tis one of the things we hope for when +this Home Rule comes, that them motors be kep' under strict control of +police."</p> + +<p>"But I thought they were! What else do you expect Home Rule to do for +you, Larry? I thought you were all against it up here."</p> + +<p>"'Tis like this, Miss. There be a lot of injustice to us Oirish, and +I were born in Cork and be a strict Catholic. The priests tell us the +good old times be comin' back, an' I believe 'em. An' we shall have +a king an' parlyment all of our own one day, an' money will run the +streets like water, they say. A gran' toime be comin'!"</p> + +<p>He shook his head slowly from side to side.</p> + +<p>Joan did not attempt to argue with him; she drew him on to talk, and +when they came out upon miles of rough moorland by the sea, she left +off talking to enjoy the scene before her.</p> + +<p>At last, she got out of the jingle, told Larry to wait for her, and +made her way down to the beach. The tide was out. Great waves in the +distance dashed and foamed over long reefs of rock; the golden sand +with its seaweed and shells proved an enticing place to Joan. She +wandered on, meeting nobody, and revelling in her solitude.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she turned a corner, and heard a child's shrill cry for help. +Looking out upon a rock close to the sea, she saw a small figure waving +a handkerchief. She set off running towards it, and saw it was a tiny +girl quite surrounded by the sea. The tide was evidently on the turn, +and had crept in round her before she had noticed her peril. She was +tugging at something which was evidently caught in a wedge of the rock. +Joan wasted no time in thought. She pulled off her shoes and stockings, +tucked up her skirts, and walked right in, till she reached the child. +She was surprised to find the water reach her knees.</p> + +<p>"My fis' net! My fis' net! A nas'y cwab has got it in his teef!" the +child cried excitedly.</p> + +<p>Joan made a grab at the stick, and with a jerk pulled up a shrimping +net; then she lifted the little girl in her arms and waded back into +safety. Putting her down on the sand, she said:</p> + +<p>"Now, where's your nurse? You might have been drowned."</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded the small girl. "I screamed and screamed because the +wicked sea ran at me so quick, and I couldn't and couldn't get my fis' +net out of that hole! And then I see'd you, and I waved my hanky, and +then you comed. And now I'll go back and sit down where Uncle Randal +putted me. He'll be coming soon, but poor Rory hurted his foot and it +bleeded, and he was carrying him to the car."</p> + +<p>"Your uncle ought not to have left you on the beach alone," said Joan +severely.</p> + +<p>"I did pwomise him I wouldn't move; but then—why then—well, I had to, +for a little cwab ran away from me, and I followed him, and then I +forgot!"</p> + +<p>She trotted across the sand—a dear little barefooted mite in white +jersey and cap and a rough serge frock, with a crop of golden curls and +mischievous, sparkling face.</p> + +<p>Joan stayed to slip into her shoes and stockings, then leisurely +followed her. By the time she reached her, a tall man had appeared down +an opening in the cliff, and the little girl was gesticulating wildly +in Joan's direction.</p> + +<p>Joan came up, then started in amazement, for the man strode towards her +in no less surprise.</p> + +<p>It was Major Armitage.</p> + +<p>"Miss Adair, have you dropped from the skies?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed I have not; have you?"</p> + +<p>"I brought my small niece for a motor ride. She inveigled me down to +the sea; then our dog cut his foot, which necessitated my taking him +back to the car, which is waiting for us above; and I find, as usual, +she has nearly brought catastrophe upon herself by not doing as she was +told. How on earth do you happen to be in these parts?"</p> + +<p>Joan told him. He listened with the greatest interest. He seemed more +animated and in better spirits than when she had seen him last; but he +did not compliment her upon her appearance.</p> + +<p>"You must have been ill," he said to her, "to lose your colour so! I +have never seen you anything but radiant and blooming."</p> + +<p>"And now I am a haggard wreck," said Joan, laughing, the colour and +light coming into her eyes and cheeks. "This is a very surprising +encounter. Of course, I knew you had gone to Ireland; but my mind has +been so engrossed with difficulties at home that I never thought of +associating you with this part. You know Lady Alicia, do you not?"</p> + +<p>A shadow came over his face at once.</p> + +<p>"I have never met her, though she has often stayed at my brother's. She +is charming, I believe. We are about twenty miles away; that is nothing +to us, for my sister keeps a car. We will come over and call."</p> + +<p>Then he looked down upon his little niece. "Sheila, this lady who +rescued you just now is an old friend of mine. Kiss her and thank her +for what she has done for you."</p> + +<p>"I don't call her old at all, at all!" responded Sheila quickly, then +she sprang lightly up and seized hold of Joan round the neck, and gave +her a hug. "She's my fren' as well as yours, Uncle Randal, but I shan't +call her old as you do. She's young—quite young, like Mummy!"</p> + +<p>"May I say what a pleasure it is to see you again," said Major +Armitage, letting his eyes dwell on Joan in almost a tender way. "The +one bright memory of Old Bellerton is my evenings in the church on +Sunday, and supper at the rectory afterwards. I have felt such a long +way off from you all that the sudden sight of you is a very delightful +experience."</p> + +<p>"We have missed you very much," Joan said quietly, looking up; and then +she turned again to the child, for somehow or other she was shy of +meeting his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't conceive how Lady Alicia managed to spirit you away. What will +they do without you? You were indispensable to everybody."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I thought so; but I'm not at all, and Cecil is home now, +and she is looking after things. I was cross, and slack, and very +unpleasant after my attack of 'flu,' and I dare say they are glad to +get rid of me!"</p> + +<p>"Look here, how are you going back? Can't I offer you a seat in my car? +I'll run you to Ballyclunny in no time."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I must return the same way I came. Old Larry would feel +quite hurt if I were to desert him. He is the old coachman, and has +driven me here in a small jingle. He let me know that it was a great +favour to have his company; and said that it was only because I was +fresh to 'Oireland' that he had come with me himself instead of sending +the boy. I can't give you his accent, but he said I was the very divil +for getting information, and he was the only one in that part of the +country who could give it to me!"</p> + +<p>She laughed merrily as she shook hands with the Major. He smiled, then +grew grave.</p> + +<p>"I hope you did not get wet in rescuing this naughty child? I blame +myself for having left her. I am really deeply grateful to you, and so +will her mother be, when she hears of her escapade."</p> + +<p>"I did very little."</p> + +<p>Then glancing at the laughing, dancing child, she said:</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you have a small niece, Major Armitage. Children are an +exhilarating tonic."</p> + +<p>"And you think I wanted one? I am not a man who sits down with a broken +backbone when life deals him blows. When I left your part of the world, +I closed and sealed a chapter in my life. Here I am in a fresh one."</p> + +<p>He spoke bravely, but in the tired, weary lines upon his face he +carried the stamp of suffering. And when Joan had left him and was +jogging home behind the fat pony, she wondered if he would ever be +quite the same man again.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia was very interested when she heard of the encounter.</p> + +<p>"You are not able to get away from your Old Bellerton friends even +here. I had forgotten he had a married sister. What is her name?"</p> + +<p>"I think she married a Mr. Donavan."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know! The Donavans have a beautiful old place about twenty miles +away. Well, how strange! But I am not sure that I like your being drawn +back into your old atmosphere. I wanted you to have a complete break +from it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we are not likely to meet very often. Major Armitage is not fond +of society."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia looked in a meditative fashion at Joan, then shook her head.</p> + +<p>To herself she said:</p> + +<p>"The man that prefers one woman to many is dangerous!"</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Two days afterwards a car drove up.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Donavan and Major Armitage were announced. Meta Donavan was a +bright, vivacious little woman. She took hold of Joan by both hands and +said:</p> + +<p>"I feel inclined to kiss you! You saved my darling from what might have +been a watery grave. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Of +course, I have heard of you, and I pictured you a Madonna and a saint. +You look quite like an ordinary being! Saints don't have dimples. I +congratulate you upon that possession!"</p> + +<p>Joan could not help laughing. Then, as Major Armitage was talking to +Lady Alicia, Mrs. Donavan gave a little nod in his direction.</p> + +<p>"How do you think he is looking? I flatter myself Sheila and I have +done him a world of good. Be came up here looking like a ghost. I could +hardly get a word out of him; but I never rested till I got him at my +piano, which happens to be a very good one, and then he relaxed, and I +won a smile out of him!"</p> + +<p>Joan wondered if she was her brother's confidante. She hardly thought +so, but she could well understand that she would win her way with +anybody.</p> + +<p>And then presently whilst tea was being got ready, they sauntered +out into the untidy garden, and Joan and Major Armitage were thrown +together.</p> + +<p>"Are you coming back to us again?" she asked when he had been asking +for village news.</p> + +<p>He gave a little shudder.</p> + +<p>"God forbid! I told you that bit of my past is sealed."</p> + +<p>"But what are you going to do about your house?"</p> + +<p>"I'm never going to live in it again."</p> + +<p>Joan looked grave.</p> + +<p>"Your tenants will be sorry. Are you going to sell it?"</p> + +<p>"No; at least, I have not made up my mind."</p> + +<p>"I am very inquisitive," said Joan apologetically; "you must forgive +me. I get so very interested over everyone that I almost regard their +affairs as mine, which is most foolish."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Major Armitage quickly. "You are a friend. You have +a right to ask me questions. If things became quieter over here, my +sister would like to leave Ireland for a time. Then I thought she might +like to have my old house. And I shall perhaps go abroad or drift into +club life in London."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Joan impulsively. "You talk as if you have no object in your +life."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I have."</p> + +<p>"But your music! Your music!" she cried. "You must not lay that gift +aside. If you do not compose, you can play. And you like Church music. +If I had your gift, I would take some big post as organist and would +speak to souls with my music. Oh, Major Armitage, you have not given up +your music?"</p> + +<p>He looked down upon her and smiled.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could have you always near me to rouse me from my lethargy +and inspire me! I think one needs to be very happy, or very miserable, +to produce good music. And over here I have been living a day at a +time, refusing to think at all deeply, or do more than enjoy the +present. But I don't mean to give up my music. You are quite right +there. And already I am being pestered to return to town and undertake +several things there. But for the present, I am looking after my +sister's estate for her. It badly needs a man upon it."</p> + +<p>"And brains," said Joan, smiling. "I do acknowledge the superiority +of your sex. I might have known you would not be idle. Forgive my +impertinence."</p> + +<p>Then the others joined them, and they went indoors to tea.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Donavan insisted that they should come over to lunch in two days' +time, and this they did. Joan thoroughly enjoyed the day. It was one of +the very few old houses in Ireland which had not been allowed to suffer +decay, and the gardens were beautifully kept. She thought Mrs. Donavan +must be a very happy woman till she took her up to the top of a turret +tower to see the view, and then leaning her arms on the parapet the +young widow gazed away to the distant country with misty eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried. "For a log cabin and a man to take care of me! +Miss Adair, you were saying just now you envied me my home. I have +come to see that no environment compensates for the loss of close +companionship. I have been a lonely miserable woman since my husband +died, and if civil war comes to our poor country, I will almost welcome +the opportunities I shall have of doing and denying myself in the great +cause. I am tired and sick of comfort and prosperity. I am not made for +it, unless I have someone I love to share it with me."</p> + +<p>"You have your brother now."</p> + +<p>"Yes," and her face sparkled through its tears. "I can't tell you what +he has been to me! He has had his trouble, poor fellow! The world is +full of it, but as I tell him, his bliss was snatched away from him +before he tasted it. I tasted mine to the full, and the miss of it is +agony!"</p> + +<p>Then she shook off her emotion, and after that one glimpse of a hidden +self, Mrs. Donavan relapsed into her usual sparkling and charming +gaiety. Major Armitage was in a quiet, grave mood. Joan did not see +much of him, for Sheila claimed her as an old friend, and carried her +off to see her pets and her own little garden.</p> + +<p>When they were driving home, Joan said to Lady Alicia:</p> + +<p>"I think if I were given very favourable circumstances, I should live a +very lazy self-indulgent life. I do love spending my days in idleness."</p> + +<p>"You are resting now. I should not be afraid for you, Joan. Life is too +real to you to waste."</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go home and settle down in the old routine. You +don't know how I chafe against it, Lady Alicia. I am so weary of it, +and Cecil tries my patience, and I even get fretted by my father's +continual cheerful optimism!"</p> + +<p>"You must remember you have been ill. You will feel quite differently +soon. I would remind you of a favourite text of yours which will be +made your experience, and has been, has it not? 'Strengthened with +all might, according to His glorious power, unto all patience and +long-suffering with joyfulness.'"</p> + +<p>Joan drew a long sigh.</p> + +<p>"My dear child, 'being' is as important as 'doing' in God's sight. A +life lived consistently is a sermon in itself. Think of Cecil and of +Banty Gascoigne. Both watching you, both keenly conscious when you fail +in gentleness and patience. Are they not worth winning?"</p> + +<p>"I feel it would need a miracle to alter Cecil," Joan said despondently.</p> + +<p>There was a pause, then Lady Alicia said: "I want you to go back +invigorated and refreshed, and I expect you will. But you are not ready +yet either in mind or body."</p> + +<p>And Joan found that Lady Alicia was right. As the days sped on and +she found her keenness and energy return to her, thoughts of her home +duties no longer oppressed her. She revelled in the simple outdoor life +she was leading, and drew fresh health from her surroundings. When next +Major Armitage met her, he complimented her on the improvement in her +appearance.</p> + +<p>"It is the Irish air," she said, laughing. "I can no longer pretend +that I am an invalid."</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE CHURCH IN THE HILLS</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"SUCH a long letter from Cecil!"</p> + +<p>Joan spoke joyfully. The post had come in rather later than usual. It +was a lovely morning in June. Joan had met the postman in the avenue, +and had just settled herself under a shady beech tree on the lawn to +enjoy her letters. Lady Alicia took a chair, too, under the tree. She +had a fair-sized packet of letters in her hand.</p> + +<p>Joan had troubled over Cecil's silence. She had only written to +her once, and that was a hurried line. Mr. Adair was not a good +correspondent, and though he gave her parish news, the little details +of daily life at the rectory were not mentioned. She glanced at the +closely written sheets in delight, and then caught her breath in +astonishment and almost dismay.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia looked up.</p> + +<p>"No bad news, I trust?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I suppose it is only my fears come true. Cecil +writes to tell me that she is engaged to Wilmot Gascoigne."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia did not speak. Joan went on hurriedly reading her letter. +None of the details for which she craved were there; only a long +dissertation on love and marriage and the description of Wilmot in the +light of a devoted lover.</p> + +<p>"We are convinced that there is mental affinity between us," Cecil +wrote. "I inspire him, he tells me, and to be the inspiration of such +a genius is enough for me. It is not the common foolish love we feel +for each other. It is intellectual appreciation, that soul to soul +intercourse which is only understood by ourselves."</p> + +<p>Joan almost laughed as she read it. Then an anxious look came into her +eyes.</p> + +<p>She finished her letter.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall be betraying confidence if I let you see it," +she said to Lady Alicia. "Cecil has no reserve in her nature. I expect +she has told everyone by this time all she thinks and feels about her +engagement."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that it is such a misfortune," said Lady Alicia. "They +may suit each other. Cecil wants waking up. This may do it."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I have lost my confidence in him," said Joan in a troubled +voice. "I would not say this to anybody, but I know you will not +misunderstand me. He came perilously near making love to me at one +time. He would have done it in a moment if I had encouraged him. Oh, I +hope, I hope he will be true to Cecil. I feel awfully afraid for her. +And she is not accustomed to yield her will to another. He will be +master. I am convinced of that."</p> + +<p>"Love makes all things easy," said Lady Alicia. "Yes; but Cecil's +letter hardly gives me that hope. It is all so wordy, so analytical."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia read the letter and handed it back in silence.</p> + +<p>Joan looked beseechingly at her.</p> + +<p>"Do tell me what you think."</p> + +<p>"I don't know Mr. Gascoigne, and I don't know what to think. It may be +the best thing for Cecil. I don't think she would ever have settled +down happily and contentedly in Old Bellerton."</p> + +<p>"No; I am sure she would not. She told me by hook or crook she would go +abroad again in the autumn. I must write and offer my congratulations, +I suppose."</p> + +<p>It was quite natural that Joan should feel a little sore at heart. It +was not so very long ago that she was assured most fervently that she +inspired and uplifted Wilmot's soul. Now he had transferred his liking +to Cecil; and she could fancy from past experience that the passionate +outpourings of his heart would be very pleasing and convincing to Cecil.</p> + +<p>She shook off forebodings which descended upon her, and wrote an +affectionate, sisterly letter to Cecil. For the rest of the day she was +distrait and depressed. Lady Alicia wisely left her alone. She knew +that if Joan wished to talk to her, she would do it.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>In the afternoon, Major Armitage and his small niece arrived in the +car. It was Sheila's birthday, and she had elected to come and tell +Joan of it, for, as usual, Joan had won the child's heart.</p> + +<p>They all had tea together on the lawn. Joan watched the uncle and niece +with amusement and astonishment. Sheila was a little autocrat, and the +Major was as wax in her hands.</p> + +<p>She persuaded her elders to play hide and seek with her, and the +formerly gloomy and solitary man was as agile in pursuing and being +pursued across the lawn as his small niece.</p> + +<p>At last both Major Armitage and Joan refused to play any more, and they +sank exhausted upon the garden seat.</p> + +<p>Sheila surveyed them pityingly.</p> + +<p>"You poor fings! I'm not a bit tired."</p> + +<p>Then, looking at them with her head on one side, she announced:</p> + +<p>"I've a picture of Daddy and Mummy sitting on a seat just like you; +only Daddy has his arm round Mummy's neck."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan hastily; "but we're not daddy and mummy, you see."</p> + +<p>"But couldn't you be another daddy and mummy and have a little girl +just like me?" demanded Sheila.</p> + +<p>Joan's sense of humour overcame her embarrassment. She laughed +outright, then jumped up and chased Sheila across the lawn to the house.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia, from her chair under the tree, looked across at Major +Armitage and smiled.</p> + +<p>"That is what I wish for you," she said. "You must forgive my +impertinence."</p> + +<p>Major Armitage did not resent her speech, as he would have done a few +months ago.</p> + +<p>"I have used up all my affections and emotions over an empty fancy," he +said in a low, husky voice. "I have nothing left to give a woman now."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Lady Alicia rejoined. "You have respect and liking; +that is a good foundation for love. And as I get older, I see many +happy marriages take place amongst very matter-of-fact, unemotional +people."</p> + +<p>He made no reply, but his eyes followed Joan's figure in the distance; +he watched her seat herself upon the low steps of the veranda and take +Sheila in her arms.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia said no more. When Joan and the child joined them again, +conversation turned on Irish affairs.</p> + +<p>Presently Major Armitage said:</p> + +<p>"Where do you go to church on Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"We have to drive six miles," said Lady Alicia. "We go into the town."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever heard of a certain parson called Dantman? He has a +little church away in the hills, and is a most remarkable preacher. +My sister told me his story. He is a bit hot-tempered, and got into +trouble with the priests in the south. I think it was in Cork that he +drew crowds to hear him; and then there was a shindy of some sort, and +the bishop gave him this little living and let him know he must accept +it. They say the people walk for miles to hear him, and he has the most +wonderful influence over them. My sister says he would draw tears from +a stone. You ought to hear him. I believe it is as near you as it is to +us—a matter of about fifteen miles."</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia laughed.</p> + +<p>"It always does amuse me to hear the airy way motorists speak of +distances. How do you think we could manage to drive fifteen miles +there and fifteen miles back?"</p> + +<p>"The fat pony would do it in a week," said Joan, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Let me call for you in the car next Sunday. The evening is the best +time to hear him; only the car can't get to his church. There is a +mile and a half walk across the hills, and the scenery is wild in the +extreme."</p> + +<p>"Then what do you do with the car?"</p> + +<p>"We put it up at an inn the last time we went."</p> + +<p>"Your sister may want to go elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I think she doesn't go out in the evening, as a rule. She did come +with me once; but I shall drive the car myself; she's very good in +letting me have it when I want it."</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Joan? It is very kind of Major Armitage to propose +taking us. Would you like to go?"</p> + +<p>"It sounds delightful," Joan replied. "I should enjoy it very much."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll call for you at half-past five next Sunday," said Major +Armitage.</p> + +<p>"Come to tea, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle Randal can't do that," said Sheila, shaking her curls +disapprovingly. "He an' me spread each other's toast on Sunday. I +couldn't do without him."</p> + +<p>"Then we will expect you to supper on our return," said Lady Alicia.</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>The matter was settled, and when they had left Joan said:</p> + +<p>"I love to see Major Armitage with that child. He is almost boyish. It +is a much better life for him than shut up alone with his music."</p> + +<p>"He ought to get married," Lady Alicia rejoined gravely. "I hope he +will."</p> + +<p>Joan did not reply.</p> + +<p>When Sunday evening came, Lady Alicia, who had been struggling with a +headache all day, told Joan that she was afraid she would not be up to +the walk.</p> + +<p>"But there is no reason why you should not go," she said; "and then you +will be able to tell me about it when you return."</p> + +<p>So when, at half-past five, Major Armitage drove up in his car, only +Joan awaited him. He tucked her up comfortably in the rugs, and they +started. It was a lovely evening, and as they sped through the lanes, +bordered by verdant green meadows, and hedges over which the wild rose +and honeysuckle rioted in lovely profusion, Joan drew a long breath of +delight.</p> + +<p>"This will be a Sunday to remember," she said. "This day week I hope to +be home again."</p> + +<p>"Are you really going so soon?"</p> + +<p>There was regret in Major Armitage's voice.</p> + +<p>"I want to go back, and I don't," said Joan, with her happy laugh. +"This has been such an easy, peaceful time that I should like to +prolong it; but I am well and strong, and feel able to tackle all my +small difficulties with a light heart. Cecil wrote yesterday wanting me +back. She is going up to town, for Wilmot Gascoigne will be there for +some weeks, and she wants to go about with him."</p> + +<p>"I hardly like to ask you, but do you like that engagement?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must. Honestly, I am afraid of how it will turn out. But +at present they appear very happy."</p> + +<p>It was odd, she thought, how few men liked Wilmot. She had never heard +anyone praise him in a warm-hearted fashion.</p> + +<p>Major Armitage was silent for a few minutes; then he said, more as if +he were speaking aloud his thoughts:</p> + +<p>"He is, at all events, better suited to her than to you."</p> + +<p>Joan was rather amused.</p> + +<p>"There was nothing of that sort between us," she said, "though I dare +say the village gossiped over our employment together. The world in +general cannot understand an ordinary business-like, matter-of-fact +friendship between man and woman."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I heard no gossip," said Major Armitage hastily. "I rarely had +intercourse with the outside world when I was at home. Looking back +now, I see it was a mistake. I got wrapped up in visions and dreams, to +my own detriment and hurt. Now I believe in the wisdom of the Almighty: +'It is not good for man to be alone.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe a lonely life is good for any of us," said Joan +slowly; "and it is so unnecessary. There are always so many who would +be the better for our help and friendship, and for whom we should be +the better too."</p> + +<p>"My sister has shaken into me a little of her practical sense. You see, +since I left the Service and my trouble connected with my sight came to +me, I shrank from everyone, and after a time, isolation became a habit +which I could not break. I always count it as one of my blessings that +your father was brought to my gates and laid up in my house. I think +if I had not had your friendship, things would have gone badly with me +later on. And—and, Miss Adair, I don't want to lose your friendship, +for I have learnt to value it."</p> + +<p>Joan's heart gave a little throb. It told her then how much she valued +his friendship; but she answered very simply:</p> + +<p>"You have it."</p> + +<p>There was silence between them. The car took them away now from the +lanes across a wide expanse of moor; then hills appeared, and very +shortly after they came to a standstill.</p> + +<p>A cluster of small cottages round a very dilapidated inn was the end of +their drive. Major Armitage was welcomed by the landlord of the "Black +Pig," who showed him a big shed, into which he could run his car.</p> + +<p>"Sure an' you'll be goin' to hear the praycher?" he ejaculated. "He's a +holy sowl, if there be wan on this airth; but a powerfu' scaldin' hot +dressin' he gives to the people, Oi can tell ye!"</p> + +<p>Joan and the Major were not long in starting up a narrow sheep-track +across the hills. Here and there were little groups of the peasantry +crossing the rough moorland. The sun was sending slanting rays across +the hills, touching up here and there a little cluster of trees with +golden glory.</p> + +<p>The stillness of the summer evening made Joan say thoughtfully:</p> + +<p>"I always think a summer Sunday evening the most delicious time in all +the year. We might be away from the world altogether up here—caught up +to receive a heavenly vision."</p> + +<p>Major Armitage looked at her with a smile.</p> + +<p>"That's rather good," he said. "I do hope you won't be disappointed in +him."</p> + +<p>It was rough walking, but at last they emerged from their irregular +stony pathway upon a level bit of ground; and there, tucked away in a +copse of trees and brushwood, with a high cliff behind it, was a tiny +iron church.</p> + +<p>"What an extraordinary place to build a church in!" exclaimed Joan.</p> + +<p>"It was built and endowed by a rich farmer. You will see the tablet to +his memory in the church."</p> + +<p>They went inside. It was fast filling, and they took a seat just +inside the door. The music was not very good. There was a wheezy +harmonium, and no pretence at a choir. The congregation took a hearty +part in singing and responses. It was just a very plain, simple little +building; and John Dantman was at first sight a very commonplace little +man.</p> + +<p>Yet when he mounted the pulpit, Joan saw that his eyes were magnetic in +their compelling power, and his preaching thrilling in its force and +reality. He did not rant or rave, he leant over his pulpit quietly, and +seemed to search and speak to every individual soul before him. He took +for his text:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "'Knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men.'"<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Very stern, unflinchingly true, and convincingly earnest was the first +part of his sermon, but suddenly his voice broke and softened.</p> + +<p>"We persuade men," he said; "that is our vocation, we are not here to +scold, to upbraid, to frighten. We have told you stern facts, that is +all."</p> + +<p>And then followed such loving, persuasive pleading that Joan listened +herself with a swelling heart, and when it was all over and she came +out into the soft, summer air, she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Major Armitage, I feel a burning desire now to exercise a little +of my persuasion upon others. It is quite true what you say. If we all +believed earnestly what we profess to believe, we could not live so +indifferently, and selfishly ignore the needs of those who have not +grasped the truth. If I were a man! Oh, if I were a man!"</p> + +<p>She stopped, a little ashamed of her emotion.</p> + +<p>"What would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know, the field would be so wide. I think I have wanted +all my life to impart knowledge, to influence, to take a part in +moulding the characters of the next generation. Teaching those younger +than myself has always been before me. I have been distinctly shown +that my sphere is to be in my own home, in a country village, learning +lessons myself instead of teaching."</p> + +<p>"What kind of lessons?" asked Major Armitage, wishing to draw her out.</p> + +<p>"Lessons of patience and endurance and long-suffering with joyfulness," +she said in a low tone.</p> + +<p>Major Armitage was silent for a moment. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Those are hard lessons for any of us. And very few of us attempt to +learn them."</p> + +<p>They lapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>The going down was more difficult in the waning light than coming up. +Joan was glad to take Major Armitage's offered arm. To her the memory +of that evening would always remain with her. She had enjoyed every bit +of it; she hardly liked to acknowledge to herself how happy she was in +company with the man who walked beside her. From having had a deep pity +for him, she found herself taking an absorbing and increasing interest +in him. He never disappointed her in anything he said or did. They were +very silent on their return journey. Just before they reached Lady +Alicia's house Major Armitage said:</p> + +<p>"I am afraid this will be good-bye for the present. I have to go away +for a few days on business for my sister, and when I return I shall +find you flown, shall I not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I leave on Wednesday."</p> + +<p>"Will you remember me to your father? I wonder if you would send me +occasional news of Old Bellerton? It would be a great pleasure to hear +from you."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will."</p> + +<p>Joan's voice had a little tremor in it.</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>He said no more.</p> + +<p>And then they went indoors, and found Lady Alicia waiting to hear about +their service.</p> + +<p>When Major Armitage took his departure a little later, he looked rather +wistfully at Joan as he took her hand.</p> + +<p>"How glad your father will be to have you back again!" he said with +emphasis.</p> + +<p>Joan laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think he will. He and I have lived so long together that we +know each other's ways, and he says he is lost without me."</p> + +<p>"But he can't expect to keep you with him always."</p> + +<p>"Why not? I don't think anything will call me away from him. I feel my +life is meant to be in that quiet corner, and I am going to be content."</p> + +<p>He looked at her, seemed as if he was about to speak, then shut his +lips sternly and wrung her hand.</p> + +<p>And Joan felt when he had left, as if the sunshine had gone out of her +heart, leaving it grey and empty and cheerless.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_19">CHAPTER XIX</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>CECIL'S ENGAGEMENT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>JOAN arrived home to find a good deal awaiting her. Cecil was in a +fever to be away. She was going to stay with some friends of her +mother's. Wilmot was already in town; Mr. Adair was not very well. He +had got wet one day, and bronchitis, his old enemy, was hovering over +him. Jenny had had words with Cecil, and had given notice. She was +sullen when Joan spoke to her; and Sophia said that she was determined +not to stay. Benson, the odd man, had become very slack in his work. +The garden had suffered from having no superintendence, and weeds had +grown apace. There had been friction between Miss Borwill and the +schoolmistress at Sunday school, and two steady members of the choir +had resigned.</p> + +<p>Joan found life bristling with difficulties; but she was her bright, +capable self again, and tackled everything with a cheery spirit. She +had expected to find a slack household under Cecil's rule, and so was +not dismayed in consequence. Upon the night of her arrival, Cecil came +into her room when she went up to bed, and regardless of Joan's fatigue +kept her talking till past one o'clock.</p> + +<p>The question Joan asked at once was:</p> + +<p>"Is Mother's book finished?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Joan, how ridiculous! Of course it is not. Wilmot thinks that +he must go out to the Riviera with a camera and get some snapshots. +He says a book of that sort must be prettily illustrated, or it will +not be attractive. And if—if we are married in November, we could go +together to the Riviera. I shall never be able to winter in England, I +know."</p> + +<p>"But is the writing of the book finished?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—not nearly. It shows how little you know about writing a book +like that! We have done about half. I am persuading him to throw over +these Gascoigne Chronicles. It is a never-ending task, and he works +better in town, he tells me. I can quite believe it. The rush and throb +of life there must stimulate and quicken your brains. This deadly +country life paralyses one! He and I are thoroughly agreed upon that +point."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen anything of Banty?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course. I was asked to the Hall to be thoroughly inspected and +criticised. Banty has no manners—she is like a new-fledged schoolgirl. +She never has a word to say for herself. Wilmot says she has no +intelligence at all."</p> + +<p>"And you are really happy, Cecil?"</p> + +<p>"My dear Joan, I am not overwhelmed with ecstasy because I am going +to be married. I have seen too much of men to expect much from them. +But Wilmot and I understand each other, and I shall have the life that +suits me; that is the main thing. I want you to speak to Father about +money. I can't go up to town without a penny in my pocket; I may go to +other friends whilst I am there. Everyone will soon be leaving town, +and I want to take advantage of my opportunities. I can't possibly make +my allowance cover my travelling expenses. And I dare say I shall be +able to get some of my trousseau in town. I suppose Father intends to +give me that, doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" sighed poor Joan. "I do not see how Father can give you +money at present. But I will talk to him and see what we can do."</p> + +<p>When Cecil eventually left her, Joan buried her face in her pillow with +determination.</p> + +<p>"I won't worry. I'm going to trust. God will guide and provide."</p> + +<p>And her sleep was sound, unshadowed by any difficulties or troubles +looming ahead.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair found he was able to give Cecil what she required, and she +left home in high spirits. She did not often write, so Joan was quite +satisfied that she was enjoying herself, and went her way happily, +helping her father in parish matters, making peace between those who +were quarrelling, and finding time to send up to her editor one or two +more short sketches from rural life.</p> + +<p>And then one day Derrick appeared. He walked in at luncheon time. Mr. +Adair was away at a clerical meeting in the neighbouring town, and +Joan, being alone, was lunching off bread and cheese and salad. But +Sophia, who was always ready in an emergency, produced two grilled +mutton chops and a savoury omelette, and Derrick did justice to both.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to desert you, Joan, though you won't have anything to +say to me. And as you look upon me as a brother, I have come down to +give you a brother's hint. Have you heard from the Malingerer?"</p> + +<p>"Not for more than a fortnight. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I've been seeing a lot of her. And that rat Motty is going, in +vulgar phrase, to chuck her!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Derrick, don't speak so!"</p> + +<p>Pride for her sister, and hot indignation at such a supposition, made +Joan's cheeks burn.</p> + +<p>"I tell you it's true! Why was she such a fool as to get infatuated +with him? Now don't rear your head and look so lofty. I'm talking like +a brother. I want you to warn her. Motty is as fickle as the wind! +You found him out, didn't you? I was pretty sick when I heard the +Malingerer had taken him on, for I knew it could only end one way. Have +you seen Banty lately?"</p> + +<p>"No, she is away. I have not met her since I came home."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was asked down for a week-end whilst you were away, and old +Jossy was in a fine stew. He couldn't get Motty to finish up his +Chronicles. He has been at them three years, and they never get any +forrarder. He runs some other book at the same time, and that gets all +his time and attention. I think your mother's Riviera notes were too +absorbing; those and the love-making together, and old Jossy spoke out +straight, and told Motty unless he would stick to his work with him, he +could go. So Motty packed his bag and walked off for good, leaving the +Chronicles behind him."</p> + +<p>"Cecil never told me he had left his uncle's," said Joan, a troubled +look coming into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Didn't she? Well, I've seen a good bit of her in town, and I can tell +you Motty is conspicuous by his absence. She can't understand it, and +is getting restive. I happen to know that a rich American girl has got +hold of him, and is running him for all she is worth. He goes about +everywhere with her, but the Malingerer has only seen them together +twice. Motty told her when she questioned him about it that she was +a most clever photographer, and he had hopes of enlisting her in the +cause of your mother's book. She had promised to give him some of her +snapshots of the Riviera for it. I don't think the Malingerer quite +swallowed it. Motty always has been wild to get to America, and I +believe he'll be on the briny before the Malingerer knows where he is."</p> + +<p>"Do stop calling her the Malingerer," said Joan. "She is so much +stronger now that we hear nothing about her health. Poor Cecil! I do +hope that he will be true to her. It will break her heart."</p> + +<p>Derrick laughed.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it. Her heart isn't in it. I could tell that from the way +she discussed him with me. I should like to get hold of Motty by the +neck and shake him as a terrier does a rat!"</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" asked Joan helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Get her home again."</p> + +<p>"She won't come."</p> + +<p>"Can't you get an attack of the 'flu' again and go to bed and then wire +to her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Joan impulsively. "How I wish you would marry her, Derrick!"</p> + +<p>Derrick's eyes danced.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she would have me? You know who I want to marry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is past. And just think, Derrick, how nice it would be to +have you as a real brother! That is the position I want you to be in."</p> + +<p>"Your morals are deficient. She is an engaged girl at present."</p> + +<p>"I will write to her by this post," said Joan; "but I hardly know what +to say."</p> + +<p>Joan never wrote that letter, for before Derrick left her that +afternoon, she received a wire:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Coming home this evening. Arrive six o'clock.—CECIL."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Derrick was quite relieved.</p> + +<p>"They've had it out, then. He was to take her to some gallery +yesterday. He had failed to keep two appointments with her, and I could +see she meant to bring matters to a point. I might have spared myself +the trouble of coming down, except that you're always such a 'sight for +sore e'en.' Sophia says you're like a breeze in the house; I should say +you stilled it. I suppose I had better make myself scarce. I'm sleeping +at the Hall for a few nights. But if I can do anything for you, let me +have a line before I go back to town. A horsewhipping or a ducking in +the round pond would be too mild for him!"</p> + +<p>"You are thinking the very worst of him," said Joan. "They may have +drawn closer together after meeting. I hope so."</p> + +<p>"Never!" said Derrick with conviction.</p> + +<p>Joan drove slowly along the leafy lanes to the station, thinking +deeply. The old pony would not be hurried, and Joan let him take his +own pace.</p> + +<p>She was wondering if Cecil had been disillusioned, and, if so, whether +it would be a blessing to her or the reverse. She dreaded having her +back embittered and disappointed. A rush of sympathy for her welled up +in her heart. Cecil had gone to London careless, gay, and perfectly +sure of her future; she was coming back perhaps empty and forlorn. Yet, +when the train came in and the sisters met, Cecil looked much as usual. +She was dressed in a grey linen dress, and wore a shady hat with violet +pansies round it. She was already lightening her mourning for her +mother. Joan was still in black.</p> + +<p>"Well, Cecil dear, welcome home! You have returned very suddenly."</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's too hot and airless in town. I can't stand it; and, of +course, everybody is leaving."</p> + +<p>"Derrick made his appearance yesterday. He told me he had been seeing a +good bit of you."</p> + +<p>"Yes. He is rather nice, isn't he? And knows the right people in town, +which is a great thing."</p> + +<p>They chatted together on the way home on trivial matters. Cecil gave no +hint of being disappointed or unhappy, and Joan came to the conclusion +that all must be right with her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair was away for the evening, taking some festival service at a +neighbouring church, so the girls had a quiet dinner, and, pleading +fatigue, Cecil retired early to bed.</p> + +<p>One thing Joan noticed, and that was that Cecil did not mention +Wilmot's name. She had not the courage to ask after him. She waited up +for her father, who returned about ten o'clock. At half-past ten, just +before finally bolting the front door, Joan stepped out upon the gravel +path to inhale the sweet night air. Then she noticed that a light was +still burning in Cecil's room, and knew that, though she had retired an +hour and a half previously, she was still awake.</p> + +<p>As she went upstairs to bed, she debated with herself as to whether she +should go to her sister.</p> + +<p>If Cecil had anything to tell, night was the best time for her to tell +it.</p> + +<p>After a little hesitation, she went across the passage and knocked +gently at her door.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment. The light was being extinguished, and +then Cecil's voice spoke:</p> + +<p>"Come in."</p> + +<p>Joan slipped in and felt her way to the bedside in the dark.</p> + +<p>She put out her hand and touched Cecil's head.</p> + +<p>"Cecil dear."</p> + +<p>In a moment Cecil's arms, to her surprise, were put round her neck, +drawing her down to her, and Joan was conscious that her own cheek was +touching a very tear-stained one on the pillow.</p> + +<p>"I felt I must get back to you. You're always the same, and you'll +understand and feel for me. It's all over between us. But I have broken +it off, I'm thankful to say."</p> + +<p>A little sob broke her voice.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, dear. I was afraid of it."</p> + +<p>Cecil steadied her voice.</p> + +<p>"He treated me abominably, shamefully! I think when he was turned away +from the Hall, he began to weigh me in the balance, and he certainly +found me wanting in the matter of pounds, shillings and pence! Then he +was taken up violently in town by some Americans, who have accepted +him at his own valuation, and believe that he is a genius. He was more +and more with them, and less and less with me. They are going to take +him over to America, and arrange a tour of lectures for him, and, of +course, he means to marry the daughter. I suppose I have discovered, as +you did, that he is a gasbag, and has no grit or purpose in him. I am +thankful for my escape, but oh, Joan, it humiliates and hurts! And I +feel alone. I miss Mother, and—and—well, I'm desperately miserable!"</p> + +<p>Joan felt it all so pathetic that she mingled her tears with Cecil's. +She asked presently about Mrs. Adair's notes.</p> + +<p>"He has really done very little to them. We must get them back. I did +say something to him, but he says he will not let all his labour go +for nothing. He says he has been spending his time and brains on other +people's property, and will not be treated by us as he has been by his +relations. As a matter-of-fact, I know Sir Joseph paid him handsomely. +But what can we do, Joan? Could Derrick—?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Derrick will tackle him," said Joan confidently; "and, if he +goes to America, we must hope that we shall never see him again. Don't +worry, dearest. I am glad that you have found him out before you were +married to him. It would be so awful to be disillusioned afterwards."</p> + +<p>"I suppose everybody here will laugh at me, but 'I' have broken it off, +Joan, remember!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan, almost smiling at Cecil's eagerness for that fact to +be known. "I am afraid Wilmot has not many friends in this part, so I +do not think you will be blamed."</p> + +<p>She stayed with her some time. She had never before seen Cecil so +softened and affectionate, and longed to improve the occasion. Yet she +felt tongue-tied until, just as she was saying good-night, Cecil said:</p> + +<p>"I felt quite thankful that you were at home, and not in Ireland. Oh, +Joan, sometimes I wish I were good like you! Whatever comes to you +makes you content and happy, and life is not happy to me. I hate my +surroundings here; they make me miserable, and this dreadful want of +money cripples one so. Don't you ever want to break away from it all?"</p> + +<p>"Often and often," was Joan's frank reply. "But it is good to be able +to trust one's life to God, Cecil dear."</p> + +<p>If Joan expected Cecil to be a different girl after that evening's +conversation, she was much mistaken. Cecil was exceedingly irritable +and exacting in the days which followed. She would not leave the house +or grounds, and shrank from seeing visitors. She lay in bed late, and +spent most of her days in a hammock in the garden, complaining of the +heat, and flies, and other annoyances.</p> + +<p>Derrick paid a flying visit before leaving for town, and, though Cecil +tried to escape him, they met in the hall. He put out his hand at once.</p> + +<p>"My fervent congrats.!" he said. "Joan has told me. I never could +congratulate you before, you know. I admire your pluck. My fingers, +figuratively, are tingling to be at his throat. May I call on him in +town and get that book of your mother's from him? I was able to help +Joan in her difficulty with him, and I'll do the same for you."</p> + +<p>Cecil at first received his speech with haughty head and stony face, +but Derrick's sunny, genial manner always won his cause. Her whole +demeanour softened; she threw her pride to the winds.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Derrick, I'll love you for ever if you get it from him! He'll +never finish it! I know he never will."</p> + +<p>Derrick nodded.</p> + +<p>"You must have someone to do battle for you, and Motty and I understand +each other perfectly. What a good for nothing scoundrel he is!"</p> + +<p>In a fortnight's time, Cecil received a registered packet by post. It +was the MS. And without another word she put it into Joan's hands.</p> + +<p>"Don't let me see it again. Do what you like with it without asking me."</p> + +<p>So Joan had her heart's desire, and put all her spare time to it.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Then one day she received from Ireland a packet of roughly scored music +and a note.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR MISS ADAIR,—I am still waiting to hear from you. I want you to +try enclosed upon the organ, and tell me what you think of it as an +anthem. We shall not soon forget the words. Does the music represent +the force and beauty of them sufficiently? I wish I could hear you +take the soprano part. Remember me to your father. Music seems out +of place in this country at present. It is seething with discord and +hot rage. The memory of our evening walk together is like a far-away +melody.—Yours in true friendship,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;">"RANDAL ARMITAGE."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Joan took the anthem down to the church when her day's work was over.</p> + +<p>The music, as she expected, was lovely. First, the crashing thunder, +then the exquisitely soft and beautiful pleading. Joan felt her heart +stirred and swayed by its power and pathos. And when she tried to +sing it, she felt a longing to sing it to some tired, wayward hearts. +"Knowing the terror of the Lord, we persuade men."</p> + +<p>"What a gift he has!" she thought, when at last she closed the organ +and came through the dusky garden to the house. "And now I must write +to him. I ought to have done so before."</p> + +<p>She wrote a bright, natural, chatty letter, telling him all the village +news which she thought might interest him; and then she mentioned the +anthem:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "I can't tell you how much I like it and how much it brings back to +me! As I hear the music, I shall always see that little Irish church +amongst the hills, with the ignorant, expectant faces all round us, +and the wonderful stillness, with the one human voice speaking to and +stirring our souls. Are you going to have it printed? I do hope you +will.—Yours most sincerely,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">"JOAN ADAIR."</span><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_20">CHAPTER XX</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>BANTY'S ACCIDENT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>"MISS JOAN, have you heard the news?"</p> + +<p>Sophia burst into the dining-room one morning about eleven o'clock. +Joan was busy dressmaking. She was not a very good hand at it, but she +was now, with knitted brows, cutting out a serge skirt for herself, and +she looked up just a little impatiently at the interruption.</p> + +<p>"Is it another baby, or has one of the villagers come in for a fortune?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Gascoigne at the Hall has been killed by a horse she was riding!"</p> + +<p>Joan dropped her scissors on the table with a clatter.</p> + +<p>"Sophia! What do you mean? It can't be true!"</p> + +<p>"It is, then. The butcher's boy brought the news, and he has come +straight from the Hall. They were carrying her in before he left."</p> + +<p>Joan's face was absolutely colourless. She stood staring at Sophia in +horror.</p> + +<p>"Banty? She was only here yesterday, and she asked me to have tea in +the pine wood with her to-morrow! Oh, Sophia, it must be a mistake."</p> + +<p>Sophia shook her head gloomily.</p> + +<p>"She was exercising a young horse in the paddock, the boy said, and he +bucked and threw her against the stone wall."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," said Joan.</p> + +<p>"Don't believe what?"</p> + +<p>Cecil asked the question as she sauntered into the room. She had only +just left her bedroom.</p> + +<p>Joan blurted out Sophia's news, and Cecil was stricken dumb for a +moment. Then she recovered herself.</p> + +<p>"It's only a report. She is, most likely, stunned for the time. Is +Father in?"</p> + +<p>"No. I shall go and inquire at once."</p> + +<p>Joan dashed out of the room, seized her garden hat, which was hanging +up in the hall, and set off at a quick run down the village.</p> + +<p>Bad news travels fast. There were knots of women at their doors; two +men she met both assured her it was a terrible accident, but knew no +more; everybody was conjecturing and discussing the event. It was long +since the quiet village had been thrown into such a ferment.</p> + +<p>"I seed two magpies only this morning; I knowed somethin' were comin'."</p> + +<p>"'Twas strange her passin' the remark to me only yesterday when she saw +gran'ma: 'Well,' she says, 'I only hope,' she says, 'I shan't live till +I can do nothing but sit and smile in a chair,' she says. She be always +so blunt in her way, but she had a good heart, that she had!"</p> + +<p>Scraps of conversation like this came to Joan's ears as she passed by. +She was determined to get at the truth, and would not even stop at the +lodge, but pressed on up the drive as fast as her breath and feet could +carry her. She saw the old family butler.</p> + +<p>"She's alive, miss," he said in answer to her question, "but we don't +know how long she will be. There is complications, they say. We've +wired for two nurses and a London doctor, and Dr. Blount is upstairs +now."</p> + +<p>"I will call again," said Joan. "Will you tell Lady Gascoigne that I am +ready to do anything for her if she wants help in any way?"</p> + +<p>Then she went home with lingering steps. It seemed so impossible for +Banty to be ill: Banty, who had always boasted of her superb health, +and had never stayed indoors in the roughest weather! Joan longed to +know details.</p> + +<p>Later in the day her father called at the Hall, and Lady Gascoigne saw +him. She told him as much as she knew herself: how Banty was exercising +a young hunter, and was thrown against a stone wall as she cantered +round the field. She was picked up unconscious; her head was badly +bruised, her right wrist broken, but the most serious injury was to her +right leg and thigh. They hoped now there were no internal injuries. +The London doctor was hopeful of her recovery, but feared she might +have to lose her leg.</p> + +<p>When Joan heard this, her heart sank within her. If Banty lost her leg, +she would never be able to ride and hunt again; and that was her life.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>As the days went on, it seemed very doubtful whether poor Banty would +pull through; and when her leg was finally amputated above the knee, +she turned her face, like Ahab, to the wall, and refused to eat. "Let +me die! I want to die!" was her cry.</p> + +<p>At last, in despair, her parents sent for Joan. She obeyed the summons +promptly, but was shocked at the change in Lady Gascoigne, who was bent +and feeble and seemed ten years older. Tears were in her eyes as she +greeted Joan.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Joan, you must help us! She is our only child. She won't try to +live. She seems as if she is stricken dumb. She will not answer us or +take the slightest notice of anything we say to her. But this morning I +said, 'I must get Joan Adair to come and persuade you,' and she turned +her poor eyes round and looked at me.</p> + +<p>"'Get her,' she said; and those are the first words she has spoken for +two days.</p> + +<p>"She was so fond of you. Perhaps you may be able to influence her."</p> + +<p>"May I see her alone?" Joan asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course you may if you wish it. But she seems quite oblivious as to +whether there are few or many in the room."</p> + +<p>"I would rather be alone with her," Joan persisted.</p> + +<p>She was led upstairs to Banty's bedroom. A nurse opened the door.</p> + +<p>"I think she is sleeping," she said softly. "I want her to take some +beef tea, but it is difficult."</p> + +<p>"Will you let me be alone with her for a little?" Joan asked.</p> + +<p>The nurse demurred, then gave way, but asked Joan not to stay long and +not to excite her.</p> + +<p>Then into the sick room Joan went. Banty was lying back on her pillows. +Her face was sharpened by suffering, her eyes were closed. Joan bent +down softly and kissed her forehead. Then, as Banty's eyes opened +slowly, she smiled at her.</p> + +<p>"Here I am, Banty."</p> + +<p>Banty gazed at her in silence. Joan's fresh, fair face, with her +sunshiny, dimpling smile, seemed quite out of place in that room. But +Banty found her voice.</p> + +<p>"Lock them all out!" she said tersely and sharply.</p> + +<p>Without any demur, Joan walked to the door and tuned the key in the +lock. Then she drew up a chair to the bedside, and seated herself upon +it.</p> + +<p>"Now we are alone," she said.</p> + +<p>A flicker of a smile passed over Banty's face. "They've never left me, +night or day," she said.</p> + +<p>Joan put out her hand and took hold of Banty's caressingly.</p> + +<p>"And I've been thinking of you night and day," she said quite +cheerfully. "But, before we have a chat together, do drink this beef +tea, will you, or else the nurse will be back to give it to you."</p> + +<p>Banty raised herself a little on the pillows. Joan tucked another +pillow behind her, and saw every drop of the beef tea disappear. She +was not in a hurry to speak, so she waited in silence till Banty said, +slowly and haltingly:</p> + +<p>"They talk over me, and cry over me, and bewail my lot till I feel +nearly mad. The parents' faces nearly reach to the ground! The nurses +put on their nurse's cheeriness and talk to me as if I am just born!"</p> + +<p>Joan laughed. She could not help it, though her heart was aching for +the girl in bed.</p> + +<p>Banty looked up gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Laugh again! I'd forgotten there was any laughter left in the world. +I've been tied up in this bed at their mercy. I can't—can't get away +from them."</p> + +<p>A rebellious, untamed soul looked out of her anguished eyes.</p> + +<p>Joan pressed her hand sympathetically. Then she spoke:</p> + +<p>"Look here, Banty, I've promised not to excite you. I'll talk as much +as ever you like, but if I'm to come again, I must not make you worse. +I haven't told you yet—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you pity me! Don't you say you're sorry for me. I'm fed up with +that."</p> + +<p>"I won't. It goes without saying."</p> + +<p>"Thank goodness you can speak in your natural voice!"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I'm going to be quite natural. You have to get out of this +bed as quickly as you can. I can quite imagine the prison it has been +to you. I shall expect you very soon to come along to the pine woods in +a bath-chair, and then we can spread a rug on the ground, and you shall +lie on it and throw cones at the squirrels, whilst I make a fire and +boil the tea."</p> + +<p>Banty drew a quick breath. She looked up at Joan with wistful longing.</p> + +<p>"Will you manage it for me?"</p> + +<p>"You will have to do that. Feed yourself up, get strong and cheerful, +and send your nurses about their business. As long as you are weak, +they must be with you. The remedy is in your own hands."</p> + +<p>Banty gazed at Joan without speaking; then she said:</p> + +<p>"Do you know what Father did when he was last in my room? Crept to that +drawer over there, and took away my pet revolver. He thought I didn't +see him. I did. It was my one hope from the time they told me my fate."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm glad he took it," said Joan stoutly. "You never have been a +coward, Banty, and you won't be one now."</p> + +<p>Banty did not reply.</p> + +<p>Then came a knock at the door. She scowled.</p> + +<p>"Let them knock! This is the first bit of peace I've had. They had me +in their power."</p> + +<p>Joan crossed the room and unlocked the door. It was one of the nurses.</p> + +<p>"I shan't stay much longer, nurse; but the beef tea is taken, and Miss +Gascoigne is quite quiet and comfortable."</p> + +<p>The nurse glanced suspiciously round. Joan looked at her with one of +her irresistible smiles.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gascoigne and I are old friends. We wanted to pretend she was not +ill, and had no doctors or nurses. She is going to get well as quickly +as she can."</p> + +<p>The nurse understood, and wisely gave way. "Ten minutes more, then; and +you will find me in the little room at the end of the corridor."</p> + +<p>Joan nodded; then came over to Banty again.</p> + +<p>"It's better to coax than to force," she said. "Oh, Banty, dear, you +must get well quickly. I want you, and so do your parents."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what my being well means?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we won't shirk it. It means, possibly, an artificial leg, a +stick, and a slight limp; but there's the wide world waiting for you +outside and wanting you. It will mean no riding or hunting; but the +country isn't taken from you. You will drive yourself about, and I +believe a new world will dawn for you, a world which you have never +entered, and which is very fair indeed."</p> + +<p>Banty lay still. Not a word did she say, and very soon Joan took her +leave.</p> + +<p>"Come again soon," was the request.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and soon you will be sitting up by your open window."</p> + +<p>In the hall Joan met Lady Gascoigne.</p> + +<p>"How did you leave our poor darling? Did you talk to her about +resignation and patience? I hoped you would do her good."</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I've only tried to shake and wake her," she said; "and I think, dear +Lady Gascoigne, I should leave her a good deal to herself. Banty has +always liked being alone."</p> + +<p>"But not now. I assure you we don't leave her a minute for fear she +should want something."</p> + +<p>"I think she would like to be alone sometimes."</p> + +<p>But though Joan had not talked to Banty of the things she loved, she +had been silently praying for her the whole time; and, as she walked +home, her whole heart went out towards her in sympathy and love.</p> + +<p>Joan had accomplished what none of Banty's family had been able to do. +She had shaken her out of her despairing lethargy and had given her the +desire to live.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Banty's wonderfully healthy and strong constitution stood her in good +stead now. When once her will was exercised on the side of recovery, +she began to make rapid strides towards convalescence, and, if she made +exacting demands on Joan's time, Joan was cheerfully anxious to comply +with them. She put in an hour with Banty nearly every day, and they +talked of many things; but for a long while Banty would not touch upon +her own helplessness, and Joan always fell in with her mood.</p> + +<p>As autumn came on, and the days became shorter and colder, Joan felt +unutterably sad for the girl who would necessarily be so much shut up +in the house this first winter.</p> + +<p>She hated needlework of every kind, she rarely read; indoor occupation +of any sort was intolerable to her.</p> + +<p>"She had much better have been killed outright," said Cecil one day +when Joan was talking about her. "When the hunting comes on, she'll be +desperate. There is nothing for her to live for."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cecil, think how full life is! Hunting is, after all, a very small +matter."</p> + +<p>"Hunting was her life."</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing we are made up of different parts," said Joan. +"Banty has only developed one part of her nature up to now. She has +still others lying dormant."</p> + +<p>"She has no intellect," said Cecil sharply. "Even your partiality to +her cannot own that."</p> + +<p>"I believe she has," said Joan. "Time will show."</p> + +<p>The day came when Banty could propel herself in a wheel-chair, and +after that she was seldom found indoors. Perhaps the worst time to her +was the day of the opening meet. At first her father said he would not +go, but Banty urged him to do so.</p> + +<p>"As I'm making up my mind to live, the sooner you slip into your old +ways the better. You go your way and I will go mine. I suppose I shall +enjoy hearing about your run by and by!"</p> + +<p>The people round were wonderfully sympathetic with poor Banty, but were +all so shy of seeing her suffer, that they wrote their condolences and +shrank from seeing her personally.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, Joan's suggestion was carried out, and Banty drove +herself to the pine wood in the low cart that was now set apart for her +use.</p> + +<p>When she was comfortably settled, Joan produced some needlework.</p> + +<p>"Now we'll enjoy ourselves," she said.</p> + +<p>"Joan, if you hadn't been here, I should have put an end to myself," +Banty said suddenly. "I couldn't have gone through these awful months +without you."</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head at her.</p> + +<p>"Don't try to think of what you might have done in other circumstances. +Everything was planned out and arranged for you."</p> + +<p>"I believe it was," said Banty in an awed voice. "Joan, I must take up +religion. All cripples do, don't they? They always lie on couches, with +saintly smiles, and their corner is the haven of peace and refuge for +the rest of the house."</p> + +<p>Banty spoke so gravely that Joan wondered whether she were in jest or +earnest.</p> + +<p>"I want you to have the religion that will make your life fuller than +it has ever been," said Joan earnestly.</p> + +<p>"As full as yours?" queried Banty in a bantering tone. Then with +sudden gravity she burst out: "Joan, I tell you honestly, I've envied +you ever since you came to live here. You never go about and enjoy +yourself; you're half a servant, half a parson, half a teacher, half +a housekeeper. You look after everybody, and keep them all in a good +temper, and yet you're as happy as a sandboy through and through. It +isn't on the surface, for I've watched you closely. How do you manage +to do it?"</p> + +<p>"It's the realising that you're just doing what you are meant to do," +said Joan, "that brings content and happiness to me. I have a motto; +have I told you it before? Three words: 'Patience, long-suffering, with +joyfulness.' That's what I aim at. And, may I say, Banty, that I think +your courage and patience now are wonderful!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, stow it!" said Banty, colouring. "Of course, I show my best to +you, and, out here in the fresh air, who could be cantankerous?"</p> + +<p>Another silence fell on them. Then Joan jumped up and got tea ready.</p> + +<p>"What does Cecil do with herself every day?" Banty asked presently.</p> + +<p>"She has driven into the town to-day to do some shopping."</p> + +<p>"Is she going abroad this winter?"</p> + +<p>"I—I don't think so. She wants to go, but I'm afraid it can't be +managed."</p> + +<p>"I should like to think she would be away. She worries you."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, she doesn't. We understand each other perfectly."</p> + +<p>Joan led the conversation to other subjects. She never criticised Cecil +to others.</p> + +<p>They stayed in the woods an hour longer, and then, very reluctantly, +Banty allowed herself to be tucked up again in the trap, and her small +groom, who had been amusing himself by gathering blackberries, took her +home.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_21">CHAPTER XXI</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>A CHANCE FOR CECIL</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>AUTUMN passed. To Joan it seemed that her life was very full. Banty +demanded a great deal of her time, but she did not grudge it to her. +Talks with Lady Alicia came back to her in which she had been told +that she might be kept in her rather narrow sphere with the object of +helping one particular person; and Joan could not but feel that Banty's +sad misfortune had opened the way for a good many real talks on the +deep things in life. Banty repeatedly told her that she had been a +refuge to her in a raging storm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, +Banty was feeling her way towards the real Refuge. But, though learning +lessons of patience and endurance, and dimly seeing as 'through a glass +darkly' the glories of the new world opening to her soul, Banty did not +always exercise self-denial in her dealings with her friend.</p> + +<p>Joan had come to her help in a dark hour; then it was Joan's purpose in +life at present to continue that help and come to her aid at any time. +When fits of depression seized her, she sent for Joan. When she had +been cross and unreasonable to those around her, and was in a contrite, +repentant mood, Joan must come and be her father confessor, and make +peace with those she had vexed and hurt. When the hunt was meeting +in the close vicinity of the Hall, and she was driven frantic by the +hooting of the horn and the baying of the hounds, Joan must come up +immediately, and sit with her, and amuse and entertain her till she was +able to regain her fortitude and composure. And Joan rarely failed her; +but it was at the cost of much effort and self-denial on her part to +respond so willingly, and Cecil was very wroth at her prompt compliance +with Banty's unreasonable demands.</p> + +<p>Cecil herself, at home, was another unceasing trial to her sister. +She was angry with Banty for her selfishness, yet failed to see that +she, in her turn, was continually making demands upon Joan's time and +attention. She had her black moods of depression and contrariety, when +nothing would please or cheer her, and, as the weather became stormy +and cold, she would incessantly grumble at the English climate.</p> + +<p>One rainy afternoon, as dusk was falling, Joan came in from a visit to +the Hall to find Cecil crouched by a dying fire in the drawing-room, +looking the picture of woe.</p> + +<p>"My dear, what a miserable room!" Joan said brightly, shaking up some +untidy cushions on the couch with much energy and then stirring the +fire. "Why, you look blue with cold! And you have let the fire nearly +out. Have you been asleep?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. I have rung three times for coal. I never saw +such servants, and Sophia had the impertinence to put her head in at +the door and tell me I ought to have made the coal-scuttle last till +tea-time! She said she was in the middle of making a cake, and if I +wanted more coal, I could get some logs from the wood cupboard! I +really wonder you don't give her notice to leave. She's getting quite +unbearable."</p> + +<p>"I would as soon think of asking Dad to leave!" said Joan, laughing. +"Sophia is always cross on her cake days, and Maggie has gone out. Her +mother is ill and wants her. I'll go and get some wood."</p> + +<p>She was out of the room and back again in a minute. Cecil went on +grumbling.</p> + +<p>"I've a great mind to apply for a post as companion to someone to get +away from home. I shall be ill if I stay on here longer. I must get +abroad. Why don't you help me, Joan? Tell Father I can't, and won't, +stay here all the winter. I never saw such a benighted place. We +haven't had a visitor inside the house for a fortnight, at least. My +bedroom wall is reeking with damp. Haven't you finished Mother's book +yet? If only you could get it done, Derrick says he will get it taken +by some publisher friend of his, and that will bring enough money in to +make it easy for me to go abroad."</p> + +<p>"I have so little time to write it, Cecil dear; but I am very nearly +at the end of it. I should like to sit down and write it now, but I +promised Father to do some accounts with him after tea. I think I'll +go out and bring the tea in myself. We won't wait for Sophia. You will +feel quite another being after it."</p> + +<p>Cecil listened to her singing under her breath as she went out to +the kitchen. It never entered her head to offer to help. She had a +headache; that was quite sufficient excuse to remain idle.</p> + +<p>When Joan came back, Cecil looked up at her.</p> + +<p>"Joan, you 'must' help me. You are so absorbed in Banty that you can +think of nobody else. I will and 'must' get away. You will have me +dying on your hands if I don't. I woke last night, and could hardly +breathe. I am getting back all my old breathlessness and my cough."</p> + +<p>Joan looked at her a little anxiously, but she could not see any +appearance of delicacy about her.</p> + +<p>"You fret yourself ill," she said. "I wish you would make up your mind +to get through a winter here. Be patient, and we will hope great things +from Mother's book."</p> + +<p>She made a mental resolve that she would work in her room at night. It +was the only opportunity she had for quiet. She was as anxious as Cecil +was that the book should be finished, but her days seemed too full for +any time to write.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>For the next few weeks Joan kept this resolve. She came down to +breakfast in the morning with tired eyes and brain, but with a +lightened heart. The book was progressing. And then came the day when +it was packed off to Derrick. He did not keep them waiting long to hear +its fate. It was accepted. A few alterations were deemed necessary, and +Joan had a good deal of correspondence with the publisher over it.</p> + +<p>About the end of November she received the sum of fifty pounds for +advance royalties, and Cecil went joyfully to her father to demand +permission to go abroad. To her amazement, he refused.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair was not a very strong-minded man, and very obstinate on some +points. Joan could not persuade him to give way. He had suffered too +much in the past from having his wife and daughter away when he could +not afford to send them. Now that Cecil was fairly strong, and had not +her mother to back her up, he considered that it would be weakness on +his part to give way to her.</p> + +<p>"I cannot afford it. You ought to be helping Joan at home. Everyone +tells me she is wearing herself out. Why should you expect this sum of +money to be spent on you? If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to Joan, +who has had all the labour of producing it. And there are still debts +of ours to be paid. Until I am actually free from debt, I will not +incur the fresh expense of sending you abroad."</p> + +<p>"If the money got by Mother's book is not spent according to her +wishes, it is abominable injustice!" said Cecil passionately. "You know +how she wished me to spend every winter abroad. It is why she commenced +to write, to earn money for our comfort there. And, if the money +belongs to Joan, I know she will give it to me gladly. When I am dead +and in my grave, you will reproach yourself. You're killing me fast."</p> + +<p>She flung herself out of the room, and went off to Joan. It was not +often she spoke so passionately to her father. He was much hurt and +indignant, and Joan had to receive the confidences of both, and try to +make peace between them. But she could not move her father from his +standpoint, nor alter his decision. Cecil raged and sulked by turns, +would not eat, and spent most of her days in bed. In despair, Joan +wrote to Lady Alicia. She saw that Cecil was making herself really ill, +and she hardly knew how to act for the best.</p> + +<p>In a few days she had Lady Alicia's reply, and it was astounding in its +force and brevity:</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "MY DEAREST JOAN,—Smooth the creases out of your brow. I have written +to your father and to Cecil by this same post. I leave for Nice this +day fortnight, and hope that Cecil will accompany me as my guest.—In +greatest haste, your loving godmother,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">"ALICIA."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Joan received this letter at the breakfast-table. Her father and she +were alone, and they looked up simultaneously at each other. He had +been reading his communication from Lady Alicia at the same time she +had been reading hers.</p> + +<p>"Well, Joan, the difficulty is solved. I am glad, for I was beginning +to dread these winter months for that refractory girl."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it noble of Lady Alicia? I am so delighted. I must go up and see +Cecil, and hear what she thinks of it."</p> + +<p>She slipped upstairs. Cecil was in bed; her breakfast-tray lay beside +her, but she was still heavy with sleep, and had not looked at her +letters.</p> + +<p>"Cecil, Cecil! Wake up! You can go abroad in a fortnight, if you like!"</p> + +<p>Cecil opened her eyes. She was generally very cross the first thing in +the morning, and had a great dislike to anyone entering her room before +she was up. Joan's smiling, eager face roused her.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Joan pounced upon a letter lying upon her tray addressed in Lady +Alicia's handwriting.</p> + +<p>"Here! Read this, and you will have the news!"</p> + +<p>Cecil sat up in bed and took the letter.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you are so excited. Can't you speak?"</p> + +<p>But Joan stood silent, letting the letter tell its own tale.</p> + +<p>Cecil did not show any excitement. She read the letter through very +calmly, and then handed it to Joan.</p> + +<p>"I suppose she has written to you, too? I dare say Father will object, +and I am not sure that I should like to go abroad with Lady Alicia. She +is rather prudish and dull. She says she's ordered to go by her doctor, +and must have a companion. Why doesn't she ask you? Does she expect me +to be a kind of maid to her? I shouldn't fancy that."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Joan, "if you don't jump at her kind offer, you mustn't +expect any more sympathy from me. I really think you ought to be +ashamed of yourself, Cecil!"</p> + +<p>Cecil laughed. Her good humour came back.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall accept it," she said. "I would rather go with a +tinker than not at all. Does Father know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is quite willing."</p> + +<p>Cecil attacked her breakfast with vigour.</p> + +<p>"It's rather short notice," she said. "I must get some things down from +town."</p> + +<p>"Now don't be running up bills! You always look nicely dressed, and +Lady Alicia is very simple and quiet herself."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to be a duplicate of Lady Alicia! How pleased you will +be to get rid of me!"</p> + +<p>Joan bent down and gave her a quick little kiss. "You know it is for +your sake. I am so glad."</p> + +<p>Cecil looked up at her with laughter in her eyes. "You're a trump, +Joan! But we do not fit together very well. You are always such a saint +that you provoke me to be a devil!"</p> + +<p>Joan looked at her gravely and a little tenderly. "Lady Alicia +considers you have the making of a fine woman in you."</p> + +<p>With which diplomatic remark she left the room.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The fortnight that ensued was a very busy time for both sisters. Cecil +did at times feel ashamed of herself when she saw how Joan slaved for +her, and the night before she left home she said to her:</p> + +<p>"I wonder you don't hate me, Joan! However much you may deny it, I know +that when I am gone, you and Father will settle down with the greatest +happiness and peace together. Sophia will thank Heaven she has seen +the last of me. There isn't a soul here who would care if they never +saw me again. I think it is this that makes me so bad tempered. Nobody +wants me or likes me. I feel I am a very big fly in the small pot of +ointment. The only one who really cared for me and wanted me is in her +grave!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cecil, you mustn't talk so! You don't know how I care, but you +don't encourage me to show you any affection, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No; I hate all that kind of thing. Some day, perhaps, I shall turn to +you for what I now seem to spurn. In my heart I know that your view of +life is the right one, and mine is wrong. But everything will have to +be taken from me before I shall be content with what you are. My health +and strength and powers of enjoyment will have to go before I can hope +to settle down into such a narrow groove."</p> + +<p>Joan did not speak; she felt tongue-tied. Her face showed how Cecil's +words distressed her.</p> + +<p>"Don't look so shocked. Perhaps Lady Alicia will work a wonderful +change in me. Who knows? I may come back to you a perfect miracle of +goodness and unselfishness. You can hope for it. Anyhow, you're a dear +old thing, and I'm very grateful for all you've been doing for me!"</p> + +<p>She put up her face for a kiss, and Joan had misty eyes as she gave it. +In spite of all her waywardness, Cecil did occupy a big place in her +heart.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>When she had gone, the house seemed strangely silent and empty. Mr. +Adair openly expressed his relief at his younger daughter's absence; +and, as the days slipped by, Joan found that Banty and the parish more +than occupied her time and thoughts.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Adair's book was published in the new year, and it was a keen +pleasure to Mr. Adair as well as to Joan to read it through and +discuss every page of it. Banty received a copy. She was becoming a +great reader, and though, as a rule, her reading was of the lightest +description, she took the greatest interest in this special book.</p> + +<p>"I have been telling Father," she said to Joan, "that he had better get +you to finish our ridiculous Chronicles. Would you be above completing +Motty's leavings?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't do it satisfactorily, I am afraid," said Joan. "Why don't +you try it yourself, Banty? It would be such an interest to you!"</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be the smallest interest to me, except—" here her eyes +brightened—"to ferret out all the Gascoignes who followed the hounds."</p> + +<p>"Where is your cousin now?"</p> + +<p>"He is still hanging on the skirts of those rich Americans. If he +doesn't get engaged quickly to the girl, they will find him out, and it +will be all 'UP' with him."</p> + +<p>A few days afterwards, Banty told Joan that she had been looking over +the MSS. already written about their family.</p> + +<p>"Of course, I'm not a writer, and never shall be. Motty has put +together all the papers and letters connected with us up to 1700; so +he really has done the worst of it. And I have told father I will +string together some of the letters and papers since. It is only to put +them according to date, isn't it? I'm actually getting interested in +my great-grandfather. He kept a pack of hounds and wrote the raciest +letters to his lady love. In one he says 'I toasted you last night, and +found the port a sorry substitute for your sweet lips!' It sounds as +if he meant to drink them. I dare say his metaphor was mixed, like his +brains, at the time, for they say he was a hard drinker."</p> + +<p>Banty spoke with animation. Joan encouraged her all she could to +persevere in the task.</p> + +<p>"Your father will be so pleased if you can do it, Banty."</p> + +<p>"I shall want something to keep me going," said Banty. "I get a sick +longing to be on a horse again, Joan. It's all very well to talk of the +glories of the future world; but if I can't ride there, it won't be any +pleasure to me!"</p> + +<p>On the whole Banty was meeting her misfortune with great pluck and +fortitude.</p> + +<p>"I know you think the hunting-field a very poor place, Joan," she said +one day, "but I can tell you it gives you lessons in discipline and +self-control like nothing else. It teaches you to bear fatigue without +a whine, to take a few ugly bumps and tumbles as all in the day's work, +and to wait patiently half a day, if necessary, when the hounds can't +find. I've been well schooled in endurance all my life, and it helps me +not to pull a poor mouth now."</p> + +<p>As the spring came on, she grew wonderfully stronger, and could soon +walk about with the help of a stick. She refused to use a crutch, and +her nimbleness in moving surprised even the doctor.</p> + +<p>It was a very happy day for Joan when Banty asked her rather awkwardly +whether she would like her help in the Sunday school.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to do something. I can tell them what you've told me. If I'd +been taught by you as a child, what a saint I might have been!"</p> + +<p>Joan gladly gave her a class of boys, and Banty not only developed a +genius for managing them, but for interesting them; and she very soon +became quite enamoured of her work.</p> + +<p>Lady Gascoigne said rather pathetically to Joan:</p> + +<p>"That dreadful accident has given me a daughter of whom I am proud. I +was so afraid that she would be an unhappy, lifelong invalid. As it is, +she does more for me and her father now, with her one leg, than she +ever did with her two! And we never hear a complaint from her lips." +Which was great testimony for such a high spirited, wilful girl as +Banty had always been.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_22">CHAPTER XXII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>HEART TO HEART</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>IT was spring again, but Cecil was not back. Lady Alicia and she were +now doing the Italian lakes together, and Cecil's letters, though few +and far between, were very happy in tone. Joan's mind for the present +was at rest about her. Life was getting easier. The last of the back +debts was paid, and Joan felt that she could now hold her head up and +look the whole world in the face. She started out for a walk one day +with her terrier, in a very happy frame of mind. Her old, discontented +longings for a larger sphere of influence and work had left her. She +realised now that there were individuals all round her who were as +precious in their Creator's sight as those far-away, and she cheerfully +set to work to find out their various needs. The villagers loved +her. There was not a house which did not welcome her warmly, and men +and women besides the children learnt to confide to her all their +difficulties and troubles.</p> + +<p>Crossing the heath, she met an old shepherd who was a special friend of +hers, and for some minutes she stayed gossiping with him; then, going +across to a little knoll under some pines, she seated herself on a +fallen log, and, gazing down upon the smiling valleys below, she fell +into a reverie.</p> + +<p>Her thoughts took her back to Ireland. She had heard from Major +Armitage once or twice through the winter. He was still managing +his sister's estate, and the unsettled state of Ulster, with the +apprehension of civil war, was keeping them engrossed with their own +affairs.</p> + +<p>She was startled suddenly by the furious barking of her little terrier. +Looking up, she saw approaching her the object of her thoughts, and +she sprang to her feet with a little exclamation of astonishment and +pleasure. He shook hands with her with great energy.</p> + +<p>"Now, what a marvellous coincidence!" he said. "I had no idea I should +meet you out here, but my whole thoughts were with you, and I was +planning an interview with you."</p> + +<p>"But why plan?" said Joan, laughing. "You had only to walk up to the +rectory to receive a hearty welcome. I am astonished to see you. Have +you been over here long?"</p> + +<p>"I came last night. Some business with my tenants brought me. And I +came out this afternoon to get away from everybody."</p> + +<p>Joan was silent. She looked up at him, and then turned her eyes away, +for he was standing close to her, leaning against a tree trunk, and +his eyes told her why he wanted to see her. She tried to still the +throbbing in her heart and veins; she tried to keep a cool, clear head; +but she was mentally asking herself this one question over and over +again:</p> + +<p>"Does he care for me?"</p> + +<p>"I had to think matters out," he went on slowly. "As you know, I lived +in a world of dreams when I was here before. I lived upon one hope, +one idea; and when it was shattered, I wished I had been shattered +with it. I have been through my house this morning, and in every room +I sought to raise up the ghost of my vision; but it would not come. +And the strange part of it is that I would not welcome it if it did. I +buried it when I was here before; and time and reason have convinced +me that my heart and affection are free to offer to another. The past +is absolutely gone. You may think me fickle, but from the time I knew +that she was willing, and rightly willing, to cleave to the one she had +promised to love and live with, I never had any more desire to win her.</p> + +<p>"And now, Miss Adair, I come to you. I am conscious that my +circumstances and my past are against me; but as you are never out of +my thoughts by day or night, I thought you would let me tell you so. +I have come over from Ireland, not only to see my tenants, but to see +you. I don't want your friendship; I want something more; and I do ask +you not to answer quickly. I am afraid that you will feel I have no +right to ask you so soon, that I cannot care deeply enough; but I have +learnt to care for you so much that nothing else in the world seems +worth living for."</p> + +<p>Joan sat very still. Her heart wanted to answer him at once, her head +cautioned delay. How could she leave her father? She could not see a +way out. At last she looked up.</p> + +<p>Major Armitage was white and stern, his lips were set determinedly +together, but his eyes were almost wistful. He tried to smile as he met +her gaze.</p> + +<p>"Well!" he said with a quick-caught breath. "Do you see anything in +me worth your love? I don't myself, and I'm steeling myself to bear a +refusal."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Joan impulsively. "I can't give you that. I care too much +already. But I am thinking of my father."</p> + +<p>"Do you really care for me, Joan?"</p> + +<p>He bent over her eagerly, then took hold of both of her hands and drew +her gently up towards him.</p> + +<p>"Joan, if you care, as I care, no one on earth has a right to separate +us."</p> + +<p>Strong man as he was, he trembled with emotion; but Joan stood very +still with his arm round her. The moment to her was almost a sacred +one. Just for an instant her head rested on his broad shoulder.</p> + +<p>"No," she whispered; "they will not be able to."</p> + +<p>Then he bent his head, knowing that he had won her, and his lips +touched hers, sealing the compact.</p> + +<p>A few moments after, he and she were sitting together on the fallen +tree. His face was radiant with happiness; she was very quiet, but +deeply, enchantingly content.</p> + +<p>"Joan, Joan, have you cared about me long? Tell me when you first +thought anything about me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, "how can I say? I liked and admired you, and felt +intensely sorry for you from the very beginning. I was honoured by +your friendship; but I suppose when it really came home to me that my +heart had escaped out of my own keeping was when we were walking back +from that little church over the hills in Ireland. I felt I should like +nothing better than to go on walking with you for ever!"</p> + +<p>"And that was the night I wanted to speak to you. I tried to do so, if +you remember, but I felt I could not. I was so terribly afraid of being +repulsed, and I thought it was too soon. I funked putting my fate to +the test. I cannot believe in my good fortune even now."</p> + +<p>They talked on as lovers have done from time immemorial, and at last +Joan made a move.</p> + +<p>"I must go to Father. He will be wanting his tea. I don't know what to +do about telling him. He often says he hopes I shall marry; but I don't +know if he really means it."</p> + +<p>"May I come back with you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>They found the rector pacing the drive. He was delighted to see Major +Armitage again. When Joan ran on into the house to make the tea, the +Major spoke.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Adair, I have come back because I could not keep away any longer. +I am afraid you may not welcome me so warmly when you know my errand. I +want to take away Joan from you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair drew in his breath.</p> + +<p>"Ah, dear! It has come at last, then!"</p> + +<p>"Will you give her to me?"</p> + +<p>"What does Joan say? But I need not ask. She is a good girl, Major—too +good to remain single all her life. I believe in women marrying; but I +shall be lost, quite lost, without her!"</p> + +<p>"We have not talked over matters yet," said Major Armitage +sympathetically; "but when I can leave my sister, I mean to come back +and live here. And if I did that, could not Joan still keep a good bit +of her parish work and still help you?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair's downcast face brightened at once.</p> + +<p>"Capital! You have your music, and Joan is too energetic to like a life +of ease without any work to keep her from rusting. I know this, Major, +there isn't a soul on earth I would like as a son-in-law better than +yourself. I know you will make my girl happy."</p> + +<p>He went straight into the drawing-room, where Joan sat over the tea +tray with hot cheeks and bright eyes, and patted her affectionately on +the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I have been told, Joan dear, and I shall be glad in your happiness. I +know Major Armitage, and can trust you to him."</p> + +<p>Joan's eyes filled with sudden tears.</p> + +<p>"He is such a dear, I couldn't help losing my heart to him," she said. +Then, as her lover came into the room, she brushed her tears away and +smiled radiantly up into his face.</p> + +<p>They were a very happy little party, but Major Armitage did not stay +to dinner. He was expecting a visit from some of his tenants at six +o'clock, and had to be home to meet them.</p> + +<p>Joan walked down the drive with him when he went.</p> + +<p>"Will you come over my house with me to-morrow morning?" he asked her. +"I'll come and fetch you if I may."</p> + +<p>"I can't fling my duties to the winds," she said, looking up at him and +laughing. "I am going to the school to-morrow at ten, but at eleven I +shall be free."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall be here at eleven."</p> + +<p>At the gate, under the shadow of the old yew tree, he took her into his +arms again.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe you are going to belong to me," he said. "What a happy +man I shall be!"</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall bring happiness to you," she responded. "I want to do +it; I have always thought that you wanted a woman to look after you."</p> + +<p>He gave a quick little shake of his head.</p> + +<p>"That is not the view you ought to take. I am happy because I mean to +care for you and to wait upon you and to give you a good time. You have +always been so busy looking after other people that you have never +given yourself a thought."</p> + +<p>Joan laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"I have hitherto gloried in my independence; but love alters +everything, does it not?"</p> + +<p>When he had left her, Joan leant her arms on the gate and watched him +out of sight, and then she raised her face to the evening sky.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "Oh, God! I thank Thee. Bless us both, and make us blessings to one +another."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Before she went to bed that night, she had a long talk with her father.</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair, though he still asserted stoutly that he was very pleased, +had great heart sinkings about the future; and Joan wisely made him +voice his fears.</p> + +<p>"I will not leave you, Dad dear, until the way seems easy. Sophia is a +host in herself, I know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sophia is a capital housekeeper," her father said hurriedly. "She +will make me comfortable, and I shall not wish selfishly to spoil your +life, my dear. It is the thought of Cecil reigning here in your stead +that appals me. I assure you it was an awful time when you were in +Ireland! If it were not for Cecil, I should jog on pretty well."</p> + +<p>"But, Father dear, if I marry, you must remember that we still live in +your parish. I shall hope to play the organ, and run the Sunday school, +and do all the club accounts. You will not be left without my help."</p> + +<p>Mr. Adair looked at her very gravely.</p> + +<p>"That is a comforting way of putting it; but remember, Joan, if a woman +marries, her husband and her household must and ought to be her first +interest. Never let your work come between your husband and yourself."</p> + +<p>Joan knew why he spoke so emphatically.</p> + +<p>"I don't think Major Armitage is a selfish man," she said musingly. "He +has lived so long without home comforts that he will not be exacting. +And he has resources in himself, and real work to do; for he considers +his music a gift given to him to use for the benefit of others. Oh, I +have already weighed it in my mind, and as long as you want my help in +the parish, I mean to give it to you."</p> + +<p>She sat up late that night writing to Cecil and Lady Alicia.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>When Sophia heard the news, she was not so congratulatory as she might +have been.</p> + +<p>"Whatever will Mr. Derrick say? And I do hope, Miss Joan, that you +aren't getting a crank for a husband. There be no doubt about it as he +has behaved very strange. Certainly, M'ria says she has no complaints +to make after that death occurred. I suppose it did occur?"</p> + +<p>"I think I had better tell you the whole story, Sophia," said Joan +patiently.</p> + +<p>And when she had finished her account, Sophia gave a sniff.</p> + +<p>"Well, we must hope you'll be happy with him, but I consider a fancy +for another woman, even if it comes to nought, takes the bloom off a +man, so to speak. Now, Mr. Derrick has never altered from the time he +were a boy. 'Twas Miss Joan first and foremost, and there was none her +equal."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Derrick is a dear boy," said Joan; "but Major Armitage is—Oh, I +can't describe him, Sophia, but he is wound round my heart, and to be +in the same room with him thrills me through and through."</p> + +<p>Sophia could say no more. She looked at Joan in a pitying way, and when +she was left alone in her kitchen, muttered to herself:</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing for me that no man has ever made me thrill. Poor +Miss Joan be but a child, after all said and done, and 'tis to be hoped +she won't live to change her mind when 'tis too late!"</p> + +<p>The sun was shining full on the old weather-beaten house as Joan and +Major Armitage walked up to it the next morning.</p> + +<p>She looked at it with an absorbing interest. This was to be her future +home. How little she had thought when she stood there last that she +would be the means of bringing the waiting house to its fulfilment.</p> + +<p>She went back in thought to the words its owner had spoken:</p> + +<p>"My house and I wait."</p> + +<p>As they mounted the old stone steps, she glanced up at her lover. She +remembered his determination that no woman's foot should cross his +threshold till the one for whom he was waiting should come. For the +first time a touch of jealousy clouded her mind—jealousy lest the +remembrance of the woman who had formerly so obsessed him should recur +to him here and now. He was looking straight before him, and not at +her; but when they reached the big door, he paused, and then his eyes +met hers and the smile spread all over his stern, set face.</p> + +<p>"This is an unlucky house," he said. "Do you believe that the strength +of our love will break that spell?"</p> + +<p>Joan caught her breath, then light and colour swept into her face; +she slipped her arm into his. "Let me tell you something which has +just flashed into my mind before we go in. I know the superstition +about your house, that no luck will come to those living in it until +it reverts to the Rollestons. Do you know that Cecil and my mother +discovered that we are directly descended from one of the daughters of +this house, a certain Gertrude Rolleston?"</p> + +<p>"What an extraordinary coincidence! You must tell me the details. I +have the Rolleston genealogy in my library; we will look it up. But, +Joan, my dearest, there would be no spot on earth which would not be +sanctified and blessed by your presence!"</p> + +<p>Then very solemnly he raised his hat before he opened the door.</p> + +<p>"May the God who instituted marriage bless us both on the threshold of +our home, and lift up the light of His countenance upon us and give us +peace."</p> + +<p>After that Joan felt as if the stepping across the threshold was +a sacrament. Certainly, she assured herself, Major Armitage was +different from any other man in the world. And when she had crossed the +threshold, he stooped and kissed her.</p> + +<p>Maria came bustling across the hall to greet them. She was tremulous +with excitement and emotion.</p> + +<p>Joan shook her by the hand very warmly.</p> + +<p>"Eh, Miss Adair, this be a happy moment to me, and Sophia's loss will +be my gain!"</p> + +<p>"There!" said Major Armitage cheerily. "What prettier or truer speech +can you expect than that, Joan?"</p> + +<p>Then he led her up the stairs to the music-room.</p> + +<p>"I have laid the ghosts here," he said. Then, pointing to the +old-fashioned fireside, he added:</p> + +<p>"I used to dream as I sat there alone in the evenings that a woman in a +soft silk dress might one day sit opposite me and talk and laugh as I +smoked my pipe. But latterly that woman's face grew misty and finally +disappeared. Now I see it again, a fair, sweet face, the sweetest in +the world to me, with deep, true, tender blue eyes and a smile that +always brings two distracting dimples into play, and hair full of +sunshine. Don't stop me. I see her clasping her hands round her knee—it +is a way she has—and showing me by turns her eager, earnest soul, her +boundless patience and sympathy, her sweet, reverent faith in all that +touches the unseen world."</p> + +<p>"I must stop your rhapsody," said Joan, half laughing but much moved. +"My cheeks are hot with such flattery. Show me your piano and books."</p> + +<p>He did so, and then led her along the corridor to a locked door. He +unlocked it and showed her the dainty little boudoir, which had all +been renovated and cleaned and made fit for use.</p> + +<p>A shadow came into Joan's eyes as she looked at it. She felt almost as +a second wife might feel when being shown the belongings of the first.</p> + +<p>"You must tell me truly," she said, impulsively turning to him. "Does +this room remind you of the one for whom it was meant? I don't think I +could be happy here."</p> + +<p>He wheeled round, drew her out of the room and turned the key in the +lock.</p> + +<p>"Then you shall not have it," he said. "Joan, sweetest, I told you I +had laid my ghosts, but if they are there for you, I will dismantle the +room at once. There are plenty of others to choose from. Look! I shall +give you this one over the west wing; you will see the sunsets; and you +shall furnish it as you please."</p> + +<p>He drew her into a quaint octagonal room, with a window overlooking the +heath and distant hills. Joan knew she would love it the instant she +was inside, and she was content.</p> + +<p>Then they wandered through the rest of the house and made many plans. +When Joan eventually came away, she said to him:</p> + +<p>"I feel I shall be taking all and giving nothing."</p> + +<p>To which, of course, Major Armitage replied:</p> + +<p>"You are giving me the priceless gift of your own sweet self, the only +gift in this wide world that is worth anything to me!"</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<h2><a id="Chapter_23">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h2> + +<p class="t3"> +<b>THE LUCK OF ROLLESTON COURT</b><br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>THE neighbourhood was very much surprised when it heard the news. Banty +was too taken aback to congratulate Joan.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you liked him," she said bluntly. "He has been so +unsociable and cranky that none of us has seen much of him. I hope +you'll get on with him, Joan. He isn't good enough for you."</p> + +<p>It was a trial to Joan to be constantly made aware of the fact of Major +Armitage's unpopularity. There is nothing a country village hates more +than reticence and exclusiveness. The poor consider that if anybody +shuts himself away from society, there is something to hide, and that +something is most likely criminal. The rich resent their overtures +of friendship being repulsed. Major Armitage himself was supremely +indifferent to it all, but for Joan's sake, he made an effort and +accepted an invitation to dine at the Hall. It was the beginning of a +little more sociable intercourse between himself and his neighbours, +and the fact of his engagement led many to make fresh endeavours to +know him.</p> + +<p>In due time, Joan received letters from Lady Alicia and from Cecil.</p> + +<p>Cecil's was characteristic of her.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "MY DEAR JOAN,—<br> +<br> + "I suppose I must send congratulations. I have to readjust my estimate +of you. I should have said from my lifelong knowledge of you that you +would have cheerfully sacrificed yourself at duty's or Father's shrine +and refused to leave your sphere of work. But I am glad for your sake +that you have been sensible. I, of course, pity myself exceedingly. +Will Father expect me to slip into your shoes? They never did fit me, +and never will. But I am not home yet, and 'things may happen,' as we +used to say when we were small. I am much amused at you and the Major +coming together. Did I not propose it to you? I hope you will make him +less uncanny than he was. Of course, you have told him of our descent +from the Rollestons? You will bring back the luck to his house. He +ought to be very grateful to you for liking him. I wonder if you are +really in love. I can't imagine you! You are so sane, so wise, that it +does not seem to be your role.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"Love,</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">"Your affectionate sister,</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 27em;">"CECIL."</span><br> +<br> + "P.S.—I have read this over, and it doesn't sound quite nice. I wonder +why? But I can't gush over the engagement, for I don't know Major +Armitage. I can only wish you happiness."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Joan's face became rather downcast as she read this. She did not know +that Cecil was sore and bitter since her broken engagement, and angry +with Joan in an unreasonable way for her present happiness.</p> + +<p>Lady Alicia's letter brought warmth and comfort at once. She allayed +the scruples that were always troubling Joan's sensitive conscience.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "It is right, dear, that you should marry when you love, and when that +one, like Randal Armitage, is worthy of your love. Your father will +be far happier in feeling your future provided for and in seeing your +happiness. If you were to sacrifice all your future for the sake of +being for a few years a help to your father, the time would be certain +to come when you and he would regret it; and I think your circumstances +will be wonderfully favourable to you."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>Derrick also wrote to Joan.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "DEAR OLD CHUM,—<br> +<br> + "Hearty congratulations is the conventional phrase, is it not? I +congratulate him on getting you, and for the rest—well, I don't bear +him malice, and if you're happy, that's the main thing. I'm going on +the Continent for a holiday. My respects to Dominie, and if I meet the +Malingerer, will let you know how she is faring. Adieu.<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;">"Yours,</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 20.5em;">"DERRICK."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"Poor Derrick!" sighed Joan. "How I hope he will forget and marry!"</p> + +<p>Yet, though she said this, it was a tremendous shock to her, a month +later, to get another letter from Cecil.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," she wrote, "your engagement made me restless and +unsettled. We are now at Lucerne, and, to our amazement, one day +Derrick walked in. As he has always been one of the family, he and I +went about a good bit together. We have talked you and the village +threadbare, and at last, as we had nothing else to do, we made up our +minds that we would try to follow your example. You see, he and I have +both been foiled in our first experience, so we can feel for each +other. He knows I am not domesticated; but I feel I could run a London +flat and make it a success. And we don't jar on each other. In fact, I +have a wonderful sense of rest in his company. I know I could help him +in his work, and am determined that he shall be an M.P. very soon, and +later on Prime Minister at least. Well, all this rigmarole means that +we're engaged, and as we've known each other all our lives, we mean to +marry straight away. I could not face wedding bells in Old Bellerton +village. Lady Alicia is a trump; she has been as anxious as a mother +over us. She talked to him and talked to me, and warned us not to be in +such haste. But we've got her on our side now, so make your mind easy +over us. Derrick will like to hear what your views are about our match. +Write him one of your nicest letters."</p> + +<p>Joan went to her father, who was as astonished as she and very +delighted.</p> + +<p>Joan herself was honestly and deeply thankful. At first she was +almost afraid that both of them were plunging into matrimony more +from expediency than from real love or liking for each other; yet she +remembered how Derrick had always admired Cecil's dainty grace and +beauty, and though he had teased her unmercifully, Cecil had never +resented it, but invariably showed the best side of her nature to him.</p> + +<p>But the speedy marriage made her anxious; and she thought Cecil's +indifference to her home and her father a bad beginning for her married +life. Derrick wrote to Joan in a day or two.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "I'm doing all there remains to be done. I have lost you for good. I +want to marry and settle down; and Cecil and I suit each other as well +as most people, and a good deal better. The Malingerer has died; in her +stead is an exceedingly beautiful and attractive woman. I shall be the +model husband, and she will daily be moulded to my will. Joking apart, +we are going to be happy; but I always and for ever intend to remain,—<br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 11.5em;">"Your old chum,</span><br> +<br> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;">"DERRICK."</span><br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>"I always wanted him as a son," said Mr. Adair, "but I hoped you would +marry him, Joan. Do you think Cecil will make his home happy?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure she will," said Joan stoutly. "Cecil has a heart and depths +which as yet have not been reached. She will develop as a married +woman."</p> + +<p>Cecil's marriage was the means of postponing Joan's. She was not in +haste to leave her home, and Major Armitage felt obliged to go over to +Ireland to his sister again. He much wanted Joan to accompany him, but +she steadfastly refused.</p> + +<p>"My father wants me. I will not leave him yet."</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>The summer slipped by. In the middle of it, Cecil and Derrick came for +a visit, and the visit was a complete success.</p> + +<p>All Cecil's old irritability and laziness seemed to have disappeared. +She was full of the little flat in town which was going to be their +home. She was gentle and considerate to her father, very affectionate +to Joan.</p> + +<p>And one day she told her, with a burst of confidence, that she was +going to make religion a power in her life.</p> + +<p>"Derrick is really good, you know, though he never talks about it. And +Lady Alicia lived her religion every day, like you do. I am going to +read my Bible every day and say a prayer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cecil!" said Joan, half amused, half sad. "I hope you will get +farther than that."</p> + +<p>"I heard of Motty when we were staying in town," said Cecil, turning +the subject. "That American girl didn't marry him, and he has left them +and is touring round America with a spiritualist and his wife. He will +never keep at anything long. It's a great pity, for he has brains and +is a fascinating talker."</p> + +<p>"I am so thankful you did not marry him," said Joan. "I prayed that you +might not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how wickedly unkind I should have thought you if I had known that +at the time. But it has all turned out for the best. Joan, my dear, +tell me truly, does your heart ever fail you as you think of settling +down in this small corner of the world for good and all? Won't it be an +awfully dull, monotonous life?"</p> + +<p>"I should have thought so once," Joan responded; "but I have learnt to +look at life differently. I suppose I used to long for power and the +sphere for using it, but I am content now. And you must remember I have +my writing, and my friends, and my parish work, and, last of all, my +husband. My life will be quite as full as yours."</p> + +<p>"Well, you must come up and see me when you want waking up; and I will +come and see you when I want peace and quiet."</p> + +<p>And that compact was made between them before Cecil left for town.</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p>Two years have slipped by.</p> + +<p>It is a cold, frosty day in December.</p> + +<p>In a big easy chair by the fire in the music-room of Rolleston Court +sits Joan. There is a wonderfully soft and radiant look in her face +as she looks down upon a little bundle of clothes upon her knee. The +firelight flickers on tiny, helpless fingers clutching the air, and +as the mother bends her face lower and moves a Shetland shawl, a pair +of big blue eyes look expectantly up at her. Such a wee face, with a +round, sturdy chin and red, soft lips, and a brow that reminds her of +Randal.</p> + +<p>And then the door opens and in strides Major Armitage. Marriage has +erased the gloomy lines in his face and given him a spring in his walk, +an eagerness in his voice, and a free and upright carriage. He stoops +over Joan and gives her a kiss, inspects his son and heir, then sinks +into the other big chair on the opposite side of the hearth and heaves +a sigh of relief. The sparkle comes into his eyes as he glances across +at Joan.</p> + +<p>"I've been to the other side of the heath to see the new cottages. +Young Garton was there, and gave me somewhat sheepish thanks. I told +him he deserved to have a wife and home; and I told him, too, that I +had learnt the value of them. Joan, dearest, how few dreams come true +in life! Yet mine has. I have you there sitting opposite to me, ready +to comfort, to advise, or to—"</p> + +<p>"Scold," put in Joan with her dimpling smile. "And now here is a third +coming to demand our care and attention. Oh, Randal, I have been +thinking big thoughts this afternoon. What a wonderful thing motherhood +is! What an awful responsibility! This little creature in my arms now +occupying his position as a future citizen of our Empire, all his gifts +and powers, that will be for good or evil in his future life, wrapped +up dormant in his tiny brain. And we have the training of him, the +making of him. I want him to be a great man, strong, purposeful, pure, +honourable, and high principled."</p> + +<p>An interruption came.</p> + +<p>Banty, in her rough tweeds, walking with something of her old vigour, +though with a limp, entered the room.</p> + +<p>"I have interrupted a happy family party," she said brightly; "but I've +come to see my godson."</p> + +<p>Major Armitage pulled forward a chair for her. If his tête-à-tête with +his wife was brought abruptly to a conclusion, he was too courteous +a gentleman to allow his disappointment to be seen. Banty was always +welcome, and she knew it.</p> + +<p>After a little time, he left the women together and went off to the +smoking-room. Joan put the baby into Banty's arms, and the girl held +him with some delight and a little anxiety.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so used to nursing as you are," she said; "don't laugh at my +awkwardness. It seems so ridiculous to think of you with a child, Joan."</p> + +<p>"Does it? It seems the most natural thing in the world to me. And yet, +as I was saying just now, he will make a big difference in my life."</p> + +<p>"You won't have so much time for your writing or for the parish."</p> + +<p>"My parish work seems drifting away," said Joan. "My father told me +yesterday that he had hardly missed me since I was laid up, for you +have proved such a good substitute."</p> + +<p>Banty looked pleased.</p> + +<p>"It's all I have to do. It gives me the excuse of getting out of the +house. You're a lucky woman, Joan."</p> + +<p>Joan looked quickly at her.</p> + +<p>"What is at the back of that speech?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. A wave of restless discontent takes possession of me +sometimes, when I think that I shall live on in this village all my +life, doing the same things and seeing the same people."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know. I used to feel the same. I longed to be in the rush of +life; but I think I have learned to be content."</p> + +<p>"What did you want to do?"</p> + +<p>"To be the head of some big school or training college, where I could +train and influence the rising generation. That was my ideal when I +was at college and when I left it. I did get the offer of being senior +mistress in an important school, but I could not be spared. It was not +to be. You see, I wanted big things for myself, and was given small. I +have been trying to learn to be faithful in the little things of life."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about little things," said Banty musingly. "I think +you have done some big things amongst us. If you had not been here, +I should either have blown my brains out or have become a useless, +whining invalid. And a good many in the village owe you much. What +a change you have wrought in Major Armitage! You have a wonderful +influence with everyone with whom you come in contact."</p> + +<p>"We all have influence, Banty," Joan said quickly. "You have a great +many guests coming and going at your home. You can help others as you +say you have been helped. Yours is not a small life at all; and there +are the Chronicles!"</p> + +<p>Laughter was in her eyes as she added this.</p> + +<p>Banty smiled.</p> + +<p>"I'm beginning to have sympathy with Motty. They are endless, perfectly +endless! I go into the library and shut myself up there as a penance +when I have been cross to Mother or furious with my maid. I peg away +at them, and suppose they'll be finished some time; but it is not very +elevating work. I am not as proud of our family history as father is. +Oh, I am content, on the whole, Joan. But sometimes I look forward. An +old maid's life!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Banty, you are not upon the shelf yet."</p> + +<p>Banty laughed a little scoffingly.</p> + +<p>"Who would want to marry a cripple? And I don't think I shall ever be +taken with any man now. I feel a hundred years old sometimes, when I +see an otter hunt sweep by in the meadows below us, or hear the hounds. +And then—well, I come back to your verse, which you have practised to +such success. I wonder if I shall be helped to do so too. I believe I +shall."</p> + +<p>When Banty had left, and the nurse had come for the baby, Joan still +sat on in the firelight. In thought she was reviewing her life within +the past few years—the life of an ordinary girl in a country village. +Yet she would not now have had it different. She started when her +husband's voice sounded again in her ear.</p> + +<p>"Are you dreaming? Shall I play to you?"</p> + +<p>"Please."</p> + +<p>He went to a beautiful little organ worked by electricity, and the full +soft tones of an anthem of his own setting brought a wonderful hush and +peace to Joan's spirit.</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "The Lord thy God bare thee, as a man doth bear his son, in all the way +that ye went, until ye came into this place."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>And then he sang the words, and Joan joined him softly under her breath.</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77651 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77651-h/images/image001.jpg b/77651-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d405f38 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/77651-h/images/image002.jpg b/77651-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce55292 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/images/image002.jpg diff --git a/77651-h/images/image003.jpg b/77651-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf6f9bc --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/77651-h/images/image004.jpg b/77651-h/images/image004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..408c6f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/images/image004.jpg diff --git a/77651-h/images/image005.jpg b/77651-h/images/image005.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1311ae7 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/images/image005.jpg diff --git a/77651-h/images/image006.jpg b/77651-h/images/image006.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e64a52 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/images/image006.jpg diff --git a/77651-h/images/image007.jpg b/77651-h/images/image007.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..935ee33 --- /dev/null +++ b/77651-h/images/image007.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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