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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78482 ***
+
+Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
+
+
+
+
+                                  THE
+
+                         DISCOVERY OF DAMARIS
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                            AMY LE FEUVRE
+
+           _Author of "The Mender," "A Daughter of the Sea,"_
+               _"Her Husband's Property," "The Chisel,"_
+                _"A Happy Woman," "Tomina in Retreat,"_
+                             _etc., etc._
+
+
+                 R.T.S., 4, BOUVERIE ST., LONDON, E.C.
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+CHAPTER
+
+      I. A LONELY GIRL
+
+     II. ENGAGED
+
+    III. FREEDOM AT LAST
+
+     IV. A COUNTRY LODGING
+
+      V. MAKING ACQUAINTANCES
+
+     VI. A SUDDEN DEPARTURE
+
+    VII. A CONSULTATION
+
+   VIII. IN LONDON
+
+     IX. THE RUNAWAY IS TRACKED
+
+      X. A SUCCESSFUL ERRAND
+
+     XI. THE FAMILY MEETING
+
+    XII. LIFTING THE LATCH
+
+   XIII. A BIG SCHEME
+
+    XIV. BARBARA'S ENGAGEMENT
+
+     XV. THE SQUIRE'S ACCIDENT
+
+    XVI. A DIFFICULT TIME
+
+   XVII. THE LAST RIDE
+
+  XVIII. THE RIGHT HOME APPEARS
+
+
+
+                       THE DISCOVERY OF DAMARIS
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+A LONELY GIRL
+
+DAMARIS sat at her window, work in hand. She was in a big upper room of
+a very old house in a quiet London square.
+
+It was her own room, and in the soft spring sunshine of that March
+afternoon it looked very attractive and comfortable. A thick Persian
+carpet was underfoot; the walls were covered with coffee-coloured
+paper, and all sorts and sizes of pictures hung upon them, from tiny
+water-colour paintings to heavy oil and a few very valuable and ancient
+prints. There was a low bookcase on one side of the fireplace, with
+some beautiful old china bowls resting on the top of it. There was
+a writing-table in one window, and a jar of yellow daffodils upon
+it. A chintz-covered couch was drawn up to another window. One or
+two comfortable lounge chairs, a work table of Indian design in red
+lacquer, and a curiosity-cabinet completed the furniture.
+
+Damaris herself was the centre of her room. She was a slim young girl,
+with a proud carriage and poise of head. A small head she had, with
+soft dark hair wound round it in coronet form; her eyes were dreamy and
+wistful—grey eyes, with long curling black lashes. Her face was white
+and small, her mouth beautiful in its sensitiveness and delicacy of
+outline.
+
+An observer of human nature said of her, when he had seen her for the
+first time—
+
+"A soul built to suffer. Too tenderly shod for life's rough stones."
+
+And one who knew her better said—
+
+"She is not awake. There are slumbering fires which, once roused, will
+startle all by their fierceness."
+
+She had a beautiful bit of tapestry on her lap. Quickly and deftly her
+fingers were forming wonderful flowers of rich colours. But her eyes
+were not always on her work. The window was open. On the opposite side
+of the street was the entrance porch of a private hotel. Motors and
+taxis drove to and from it continually, and Damaris's grey observant
+eyes noted all the arrivals and departures. A little smile flitted
+over her face as she watched an old lady and gentleman descend with
+difficulty from a taxi. An elderly maid followed them into the hotel,
+laden with bags and shawls and leading a King Charles spaniel behind
+her.
+
+"They've come up again," murmured Damaris to herself. "I wonder if
+their daughter will come and see them to-morrow? I am sure she does not
+enjoy their visits to town."
+
+A smart motor now claimed her attention. A mother and two very pretty
+daughters, escorted by a handsome man, alighted, and with a great deal
+of laughter and talk swept into the hotel.
+
+A little sigh came from Damaris's lips.
+
+"Such a good time going on, so close to me; and yet I might be in
+another world altogether."
+
+"If you please, Miss, your Uncle Ambrose wants you!"
+
+Damaris started at the voice. An elderly parlourmaid stood inside the
+door. She lumped up lightly from her seat, letting her work drop upon
+the carpet, and, throwing her arms above her head, gave a yawn.
+
+"I'm coming, Stevens. It isn't tea-time, surely?"
+
+"Very close to it," said the maid. "But your Uncle Simeon has brought a
+visitor in."
+
+"Oh!" sighed the girl. "Another old man, I suppose!"
+
+She followed the maid out of the room. The stairs were dark polished
+oak, and uncarpeted; the banisters beautifully carved; and the
+dark-panelled walls were lined with many gems of art.
+
+Lightly she ran down two flights of stairs, and pushed open the door of
+the big drawing-room, or library as her uncles preferred to call it.
+
+Two old white-haired men were standing by the window talking eagerly to
+a young one. They all turned at Damaris's entrance.
+
+"Damaris, this is your Cousin Dane. You have never seen him. He has
+taken us by surprise. Landed from India this morning. He got sick-leave
+suddenly."
+
+Dane held out his hand in friendly greeting.
+
+He saw and noted the pride and grace of the girlish figure. She wore a
+blue-grey gown, and a few yellow daffodils were tucked into her belt.
+
+"Cousin Damaris, isn't it?" he said, a smile lightening up his dark and
+rather stern-cut features. "If not first cousins, we are second, are we
+not?"
+
+"Of course, you are second cousins!" said Ambrose Hartbrook sharply.
+"Now, Damaris, see that a room is prepared for Dane at once. You can
+give him the Sheraton room."
+
+Damaris wheeled round and left the room as quickly as she had entered.
+
+"Does my Cousin Damaris live with you?" asked the young man.
+
+"Yes, her parents both died when she was a child. She has been at
+school till about three years ago; since then she has made her home
+with us. A good useful girl, but rather sleepy in disposition. I
+daresay she will make a good wife to someone some day."
+
+Damaris caught the words as she closed the door. Her small head raised
+itself proudly, and a hot colour came into her cheeks.
+
+"If a good wife simply means a good housekeeper, then, Uncle Ambrose,
+never, 'never!'" she muttered to herself.
+
+She was not seen again till dinner time. She entered the library
+then, looking very fresh and girlish in a soft white silk gown. Dane
+Hartbrook's eyes noted her every tone and gesture. She did not speak
+much during dinner, which was served in old-fashioned state, and took a
+full hour to get through.
+
+Then she left her uncles and their guest to their wine, and went back
+to the library, where she sat in a straight-backed carved chair and
+gazed broodingly into the fire. She did not turn her head when the door
+opened, but started when a voice said, close to her ear—
+
+"Thank goodness, a visitor has arrived who is talking furniture shop.
+Now you can tell me what I want to know. Are our uncles in trade? Their
+talk is of nothing but choice objects of art—chiefly chairs and tables."
+
+Damaris looked at him and smiled. He stood opposite her on the
+hearth-rug but did not return her smile. His brows were knitted.
+
+"Do they keep show-rooms?" he persisted. "They talk of the 'Sheraton
+room,' and the 'Chippendale,' and the 'Jacobean,' and the 'Grinling
+Gibbons,' and goodness knows how many others! Uncle Simeon is now
+discoursing upon some old copper urns."
+
+"No, they're not in trade," Damaris said simply; "they've made a hobby
+of antique things, and spend all their money on it. To have a room with
+one flaw or false note in it makes them miserable. Every different
+room depicts a different age. They will show you through the house
+to-morrow. But they won't show you my room. I have taken care to ensure
+privacy there. I have been allowed to pick up odds and ends of no
+particular value scattered over the house, and I've bunched them all
+together, and I don't care a button what period they belong to!"
+
+Her tone was so emphatic that Dane began to smile.
+
+"Uncle Simeon writes articles in the 'Connoisseur;' he writes and reads
+more than Uncle Ambrose does. Uncle Ambrose hunts in old curio shops,
+and goes sometimes all over the Continent after some treasure which he
+has discovered can be bought. If you want really to bring horror to
+their hearts, give them some pretty article, new or faked."
+
+She paused. A softer look stole over her face.
+
+"They are very good and kind to me. I don't want to laugh at them or
+criticise them; but with all the world before them and around them, it
+seems such waste to live and breathe in an atmosphere of old furniture!"
+
+Dane drew in a long breath.
+
+"And what do you do with yourself?" he asked, letting his eyes rest on
+her with pleased interest.
+
+Damaris raised her head proudly.
+
+"I am never idle," she said, with sweet aloofness in her tone.
+
+"I suppose you have friends of your own?"
+
+For some reason Damaris resented this catechism. She did not reply. She
+would liked to have said, "I am an upper servant in the house—a servant
+without wages. I concoct special polishes for the maids to use upon
+the furniture; I superintend their work and dust the valuable china. I
+am not allowed to pay visits or ask anyone to the house. I am a good
+useful girl, and will stay here until they find a husband for me. And
+it will be a husband of their liking, not mine!"
+
+All this she thought, but pride and innate dignity kept her lips
+closed. Then, with a flash in her eyes, she turned the tables upon him.
+
+"My life is not very interesting. Tell me about yours. Where do you
+live? Why have you come to England? Are you going to stay?"
+
+"I've been in India for ten years—had a coffee and rubber estate out
+there, but had to chuck it on account of bad health. It's rotten luck
+to be told I can't live out there. I sometimes wonder whether a short
+life isn't to be desired. My parents, like yours, are dead. I have a
+sister somewhere; I must hunt her up. We have never corresponded."
+
+"That's interesting," said Damaris, with bright eyes. "I wish I had
+brothers and sisters—anyone belonging to me! What an adventure to go
+through the country hunting them out!"
+
+He looked at her.
+
+"I wish I could look upon it in the light of an adventure. If I had
+come home with pockets full of money, it would be a brighter outlook."
+
+"Oh, but how dull it is when you have all you want! And there's so much
+work to be done in the world, waiting for people to take it up. I'd
+like to walk out of this house to-morrow, and do something."
+
+He sat down in an easy chair opposite her.
+
+"I've heard that women talk like this at home. They don't out with us.
+Tell me what you would like to do."
+
+Damaris looked at him steadily and gravely.
+
+"I don't think I will—thank you," she said.
+
+He felt sorry he had quenched her, but he was amused at her attitude.
+
+"I will tell you what I want to do?" he said. "I want to settle down in
+a home of my own, somewhere. I shouldn't mind farming a bit of land, or
+something of that sort; but no city life for me!"
+
+He stopped short suddenly.
+
+Mr. Ambrose Hartbrook entered the room, followed, in a few moments, by
+his brother Simeon.
+
+"Now," the latter said, rubbing his hands together, "what shall we do
+first, Dane? I want to show you my books. Ambrose wants to show you the
+house."
+
+"Wouldn't the house be better seen in daylight?" queried Dane
+doubtfully.
+
+Mr. Ambrose smiled.
+
+"We never have full daylight in this house," he said. "No, I think the
+electric will serve our purpose perfectly. I should like to show you
+the rooms. We haven't a faked article in them; each a different period,
+and every detail as perfect as we can make them. Let us start at once.
+I will lead the way."
+
+Damaris watched the two eager old men leave the room, the rather
+unwilling young man following them. She smiled to herself, and then
+sighed.
+
+"If I could see the beauty in it all as they see it, I should be
+happier, I do believe," she murmured to herself.
+
+Then she took up her embroidery, but the needle dropped out of her
+fingers. She leaned back in her chair and dreamily watched the dancing
+firelight in front of her.
+
+Damaris did a good deal of dreaming, and her spirit was always ready to
+leap away from her narrow surroundings and career in a Will-o'-the-wisp
+fashion all over the world. To-night she went into the country to a
+thatched roof farm with diamond panes in casement windows. The rooms
+were sweet and dainty, but no antique furniture rested on their floors.
+There was a dairy with yellow bowls of cream, there was an orchard full
+of apple-blossom and daffodils, and there was a young woman sitting out
+in it with a child—no!—a cluster!—quite five sweet children hanging
+round her! And then a husband came marching through the soft green
+grass. But his face was indistinct—and it was not—no, it certainly was
+not the face of Dane Hartbrook!
+
+When she got thus far, she shook herself impatiently and picked up her
+work.
+
+It was some time before her uncles returned, and when they did, she
+stood up and announced her intention of going to bed.
+
+"Oh, not yet," exclaimed Dane; "it is barely ten o'clock."
+
+But Damaris would not stay. She knew the conversation would be entirely
+upon the worth of the antiquities just shown; and her Uncle Ambrose
+patted her on the shoulder in great good humour.
+
+"Beauty sleep must not be forgotten, eh, Damaris? Run away to bed like
+a good child. We shall sit up for a couple of hours yet. Here, Dane,
+sample these cigars. They come from the East."
+
+So Damaris disappeared, and Dane settled down to listen, with all the
+patience he could muster, to a long dissertation on the old men's hobby.
+
+
+The next morning at breakfast Dane looked across to Damaris and said
+boldly—
+
+"Will you come out with me this morning? I want to find my sister, and
+am going to run down to Richmond on the chance of finding her there."
+
+Damaris hesitated to reply.
+
+"You can go," said her Uncle Simeon.
+
+So, an hour later, Damaris started from the house with bright eyes.
+
+Dane looked at her with half-concealed approval. She was neatly and
+quietly dressed in navy-blue cloth coat and skirt, and a dark blue
+velvet hat. But a dainty little lace collar, and good gloves and boots,
+and a nameless air of distinction with which she carried herself made
+Dane feel proud and pleased as he walked beside her.
+
+"I have never had a day out like this before," she said in an
+apologetic tone. "You must forgive me if I seem ecstatic over it. Uncle
+Ambrose has old-fashioned notions. I am allowed to shop alone, but
+never to go sight-seeing. Stevens must come with me then, and our time
+is limited to two hours. Are we going to have lunch out? How delicious!
+And may we go on the top of a 'bus? Stevens won't, but I always do,
+when I get a chance. I shut my eyes sometimes and fancy myself on the
+top of an old-fashioned coach or four-in-hand. Oh, isn't a spring day
+like this ripping? Look at that basket of flowers! Don't the violets
+smell?"
+
+Dane stopped, bought a big bunch of Neopolitans, and presented it to
+her.
+
+Damaris took it with a blush and pleased smile. As she fastened it in
+her jacket, she said—
+
+"You don't think I expected you to give them to me? You must let me
+admire everything to-day, and take no notice. It's my way when I'm
+feeling happy."
+
+She was like a child, so frank and free were her comments on all around
+her.
+
+They took the train to Richmond, and then hired a taxi to take them to
+a certain address which Dane produced out of his pocket-book.
+
+"My sister was lodging here five years ago with an old aunt. It's just
+a toss-up whether she'll be here still."
+
+She was not, and the people of the house knew nothing of her. They were
+new inmates themselves, had barely been there a twelvemonth.
+
+"I'm so sorry for you," said Damaris. "What will you do now?"
+
+"We'll have a drive through the park, and then we'll have lunch. The
+'Star and Garter' is no more, I hear, but we'll get food somewhere. Oh,
+I'm not worrying. I'll have another shot or two before I give up. My
+father had some old lawyer living in Bloomsbury. I'll look him up and
+see if he knows of her whereabouts."
+
+Damaris enjoyed every moment of the day. Dane told her of some of his
+Indian experiences. He was a good talker, and she listened entranced.
+She in her turn became a little more communicative. She told him that
+her father had always lived with her two great-uncles, and that he was
+their favourite nephew.
+
+"He met my mother abroad, and I was born in Florence. I always feel
+glad I was born in such a beautiful place. My mother died when I was
+born, and my father brought me straight back to London with my nurse.
+He died when I was five years old. I can remember him quite well. He
+painted beautiful pictures. But he was never very strong, and he caught
+cold when he went down the river one day to sketch, and he never got
+over it.
+
+"The uncles handed me over to an old friend of theirs who kept a home
+school for Indian children. She was the only woman friend they ever
+had. She was very good to me, but I always spent my holidays with the
+uncles, and when I finished school came home to them for good. You
+see, not very much has happened to me yet. But I hope it will. I'm
+always hoping the doors will open and I shall get through to something
+different."
+
+"Do you think the door is ajar to-day?" Dane asked, looking down upon
+her with amused interest.
+
+She looked up at him and laughed.
+
+"Perhaps it is open a crack, just enough for me to see through," she
+said; "but I shall walk out of it free one day."
+
+They had lunch at Richmond; then, in the afternoon they returned to
+town, and he took her to a matinee. It was late when they returned, and
+Damaris had only just time to dress for dinner.
+
+Her uncles were most punctilious, and nothing vexed them more than any
+irregularity in their usual hours.
+
+For the rest of the evening, Dane devoted himself to them. Damaris sat
+very silent, retracing every detail of her wonderful day.
+
+And when she sat working in her room the next day, she looked across at
+the hotel opposite with new feelings in her heart.
+
+"I have experienced now what the girls experience over there. I shall
+not envy them so much now. I know how it feels to be taken out for the
+day and treated everywhere," she murmured to herself, with elation in
+her soul.
+
+
+In the days that followed, she went about a good deal with her cousin
+Dane. Instead of disapproving of their intimacy, her uncles seemed to
+be encouraging it. Dane was not loth to have Damaris as a companion.
+She was fresh and amusing in her somewhat naïve comments on all she
+heard and saw, and he admired her grace and daintiness. He regarded her
+as a typical English girl.
+
+Damaris began to wonder why she did not like him better. She came to
+the conclusion that it was because he was so very worldly-wise. In all
+his dealings with men and women, Dane seemed to have this principle
+underlying them: "How can I use them to my best advantage?" And this
+jarred on the girl's high ideals, and upon her conceptions of life as
+it ought to be lived.
+
+"You are a dreamer," said Dane, laughing, one day. "Dreamers are
+generally failures in this world."
+
+"Are they? Why?"
+
+"Because their eyes are always on the unattainable, and they miss the
+opportunities of improving their present actual circumstances."
+
+Damaris thought over this.
+
+"The man with the muck-rake in Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress' was
+condemned," she said thoughtfully. "He missed the sight of the crown!"
+
+"I always did think Bunyan lacking in judgment," said Dane. "That man
+was making the most of his opportunities, and it is those who make the
+most of the poorest surroundings that get on in the world."
+
+"'Oh, deliver me from that muck-rake,'" quoted Damaris softly to
+herself.
+
+And Dane looked at her with impatient amusement. He was being
+continually surprised by her independence of thought.
+
+At first, he treated her as a young unsophisticated girl. His tone was
+slightly patronising. He was ready to give her information on every
+point, and expected her to acquiesce humbly in all that he said. But
+he found she had a way of looking at him through her long eyelashes as
+if she were summing him up. And more than once, the enigmatical smile
+and silence with which she had met some of his assertions left him
+doubtful, and slightly uncomfortable.
+
+Yet they were the best of friends. When he was away from her, he found
+himself counting the time to when he should be with her again. And she
+enjoyed the novelty of interchanging thoughts and ideas with someone
+who did not, like her uncles, consider that a woman's voice should be
+silent in the society of men.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ENGAGED
+
+"MISS DAMARIS, my dear, trouble is on us! Come quick! Mr. Ambrose has
+had some kind of stroke!"
+
+It was Stevens who came in upon Damaris as she was working in her quiet
+upper room. The girl was feeling dull and rather flat. Dane had been
+with them as an inmate of their home for two months. Now he had gone—he
+was still fruitlessly looking for his sister. But latterly, he had
+seemed to lose interest in her, and had been rather engrossed with some
+friends of his whom he had known in India, and who were now at home. He
+was at present with them in Scotland.
+
+Damaris had met them once, and had not been very favourably impressed
+by them, but that was perhaps because they had not made themselves very
+pleasant to her. Mrs. Welbeck was a very smart-looking widow with three
+marriageable daughters, all of whom were older than Damaris, and very
+lively go-ahead girls. They seemed to have plenty of money, and were
+looking about for a country house in which they hoped to settle.
+
+Damaris had felt, as she listened to their talk, how little she knew of
+the world in which Dane had lived, and how ignorant and unsophisticated
+she must appear to these wide-awake knowledgeable girls. When Dane had
+gone, she found herself continually wondering whether he would soon
+write and announce his engagement to one of these girls. She felt that
+either of them would have him, but was not sure whether he meant to
+marry at present, he seemed so well contented and satisfied with his
+present state. He had ingratiated himself into the good graces of his
+uncles, and had delighted them by his keen interest in some of their
+treasures. And they, as well as Damaris, had missed him very much since
+he had left them.
+
+Damaris's thoughts, as she sat at her window and worked, had been in
+Scotland. She roused herself with a frightened start at Stevens's
+words. Illness of any sort had never come near her. She did not know
+how to deal with it. Her Uncle Ambrose used to boast that he had never
+had a day's illness in his life. Her Uncle Simeon was not so strong. He
+would get heavy chest colds, but Stevens would nurse him through them,
+and Damaris felt no responsibility about them.
+
+"Oh, Stevens, what do you mean?"
+
+"I've just found him on the floor in the library. Mr. Simeon has helped
+cook and me, and we have got him into his bed-room and on his bed. Mr.
+Simeon has rushed off for the doctor, but Mary and cook are no good at
+all, they're all in a shake, and I must get hot bottles to his feet. I
+want you to sit with him till I come back."
+
+Talking rapidly, Stevens led the way to the bed-room, and Damaris
+followed her feeling dazed and bewildered.
+
+Then ensued some very weary troubled days. The doctor came and went;
+Damaris developed into a very capable nurse. She and Stevens attended
+upon the invalid entirely between them. He was unconscious for some
+days, then recovered consciousness, and with difficulty tried to make
+his wishes known.
+
+
+One afternoon Damaris was alone with him. He had been sleeping and was
+lying with closed eyes, when she suddenly heard him trying to pronounce
+her name. She bent over him.
+
+"Yes uncle, dear? What is it? Can I do anything for you?"
+
+He looked up at her.
+
+"You must marry him," he said feebly. "A nice boy—knows the worth of
+things. We've talked it over—he's willing—and then—you'll get your
+share."
+
+Damaris felt the blood rush into her cheeks. She felt that her uncle's
+mind was wandering.
+
+He looked up at her uneasily.
+
+"Yes—yes," she said, soothingly; "it will be all right. You are getting
+better, Uncle Ambrose. You will soon be all right again."
+
+He shook his head feebly in dissent, but lay still. Then he spoke again—
+
+"Simeon—he knows—codicil—he will tell you."
+
+"Yes," said Damaris again; "it will be all right. I will ask him. You
+try to sleep again for a little."
+
+He said no more, but after a time his breathing became so laboured and
+hard that Damaris slipped out of the room and called Stevens.
+
+Those were his last words to her. He died two hours afterwards.
+
+Mr. Simeon Hartbrook was inconsolable. He wired for Dane, but Dane was
+touring through the Highlands with his friends, and could not be found
+quickly.
+
+Damaris and her uncle were the only ones who attended the funeral. She
+felt an immense pity for her Uncle Simeon. He seemed to be literally
+crushed by his loss, and was quite unable to settle any of his
+brother's affairs. It was very wet and stormy at the cemetery and he
+contracted a chill.
+
+Stevens put him to bed like a child when he came home, but he insisted
+upon seeing Damaris, for he said he had business to discuss with her.
+
+When she came to him, he looked at her helplessly.
+
+"I am feeling very ill, my dear. If I don't get well, I want to tell
+you about—" He hesitated. "I can't remember—but Dane knows—he will
+explain—we felt he would value our things more than you would. He would
+not sell them. And you've been a good girl, and when you are married,
+he will do everything for you. He seemed to come just when we wanted
+him. It will be all right for you—but Ambrose thought it best."
+
+"Yes, I'm sure it is all right," murmured Damaris.
+
+She began to wonder if her two uncles had really been trying to make
+up a match between her and Dane. Her pride rebelled against such an
+idea, but she could say nothing to disturb her uncle at this juncture.
+She had a hopeless helpless feeling that everyone round her was going
+to die. If it had not been for Stevens, who never lost her cheerful
+composure, Damaris could hardly have got through those days.
+
+When Dane eventually made his appearance, he was met at the door by
+Stevens who said reproachfully—
+
+"You are too late, sir. You have been wanted badly. Both the masters
+are gone. I knew Mr. Simeon would never outlive his brother for long,
+and poor Miss Damaris has had everything to do and settle, with nobody
+to help her. She's fair worn out with the shock and distress of it."
+
+"Goodness!" ejaculated Dane, aghast. "What a tragedy! And in such a
+short time!"
+
+He went into the library and sat down on a chair as if he were stunned.
+Damaris came to him there. It struck him that she carried herself
+regally, and spoke to him in rather a cold, detached tone—
+
+"Stevens has told you. Did you get none of our wires?"
+
+"Only two," he answered. Then he sprang up and seized hold of her hands.
+
+"You poor child! How I have failed you! Just when I ought to have been
+by your side, doing everything for you! And I was longing to be back—to
+put my fate in your hands. I wanted to have spoken before I left; but
+somehow I was afraid. I hoped being away a little might show you—well,
+you know—you did not seem ready to meet me half-way. Oh, what am I
+saying? Damaris, dearest, you will never be alone or friendless if you
+make me a happy man. I want to have the right to shield—protect—love
+you. Will you let me have that right?"
+
+One would have thought that Dane had chosen a most unpropitious moment
+to begin his wooing; but Damaris was feeling unhinged and desperately
+lonely. She had hardly known how to pass her days. The shock of her
+uncles' deaths had been great. She had always been treated like a
+child, and not allowed to act independently or have any responsibility.
+Now she was alone in this big house, and had to settle and arrange
+everything, with no help from anyone but Stevens. She felt incompetent,
+ignorant and forlorn, and longed for someone to be at her side to
+advise her. She had hoped that Dane would write or come; she had
+watched expectantly for some news of him day after day.
+
+His impulsive speech and compassionate eyes, his tender hold of her,
+drove away the slight feeling of annoyance she had been cherishing. She
+had thought him selfish and unfeeling to stay away at such a crisis;
+now she realised that he had brought with him a sense of comfort and
+safety, and that she never wanted him to leave her again.
+
+When his arm drew her gently to him, she did not resist; she only gave
+a long quivering sigh, and said—
+
+"It is good to have you back again, Dane. I thought I could stand
+alone, but I find I can't. Take care of me."
+
+And then she began to cry, and Dane rested her head against his
+shoulder, and kissed away her tears and comforted her.
+
+A little later Stevens was taken into their confidence. She did not
+seem surprised at their news.
+
+"Mr. Ambrose mentioned it to me before he was taken ill. He seemed so
+pleased you appreciated the house so much, Mr. Dane. He said to me,
+'twas good to know you'd care for the things they had loved, when they
+were gone. It seemed as if he felt he would be taken soon."
+
+And Stevens wiped her moist eyes as she spoke. She had been with her
+masters for over twenty years, and had a sincere affection for them.
+
+Dane went away, but only to settle himself into the hotel opposite, and
+the next day he came over to the house and had a long interview with
+Mr. Hunter the lawyer.
+
+Mr. Hunter was a little wiry wizened man with a very big forehead and
+beetling eyebrows, beneath which his piercing eyes would transfix and
+awe all who transacted business with him.
+
+"I suppose I can see the will?" Dane said. "I understood from my uncles
+that, in the first instance, they had left everything to their niece,
+Miss Hartbrook, but that they were so anxious that we should make a
+match of it that they told me that they had drawn up a codicil in which
+we were made co-legatees upon our wedding-day. Is this correct? They
+need not have troubled to alter the will, Miss Hartbrook and I would
+have come together without it. A case of love at first sight!"
+
+He gave a little awkward laugh, and felt annoyed at Mr. Hunter's
+glittering gaze.
+
+"I am glad to hear it. Very glad," said Mr. Hunter. "I have known
+Miss Hartbrook from a child. She, in my opinion, deserves to be sole
+legatee; but your uncles were peculiar in their attitude towards women.
+They seemed afraid that she might marry someone unsuitable—someone who
+might not appreciate or value their hoarded treasures—so they wanted to
+safeguard her; and when you told them you hoped to make her your wife,
+they seemed to think her future was secure."
+
+He paused, then cleared his throat.
+
+"You may like to see the codicil. Everything is left unconditionally to
+you."
+
+"Not unconditionally?"
+
+Mr. Hunter handed him a copy of the will. The brothers had made their
+will together in a very quaint fashion, but it was all perfectly legal.
+
+Dane read the codicil in silence, then he handed it back to the lawyer.
+
+"Of course, it will make no difference to Miss Hartbrook," said Mr.
+Hunter; "for her uncles seemed quite assured that she would marry you.
+Apart from you, she will be left penniless."
+
+"But she never will be apart from me," said Dane hastily. He got up
+from his seat and paced the room. Then he stood still.
+
+"Does she know this? Has she seen this codicil?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Hunter; "as she does not benefit directly by the will,
+I saw no need to let her read it. She has never asked about it, but I
+think that she imagines that the estate is divided between you. I don't
+approve of the codicil myself, and I told your uncles so. I was such an
+old friend of theirs that I felt I had a right to speak. But, as I say,
+I hope it will make no difference to Miss Hartbrook."
+
+"She need never know," said Dane quickly.
+
+Then Mr. Hunter and he began to discuss business matters together;
+and when the lawyer eventually left, Dane still paced the room with a
+frowning brow, and set determined lips.
+
+"What a fool I was to be in such a hurry," he muttered to himself.
+
+But when he next met Damaris, he was the tender demonstrative lover.
+She was very sweet, but still bore herself somewhat proudly. He felt
+that he did not yet wholly possess her heart.
+
+
+Stevens watched over her like a dragon. She allowed her to go out with
+Dane, but did not encourage him to come much to the house.
+
+"You are alone here," she said; "and I know how careful young ladies
+have to be. I wish Mr. Dane would find his sister. She would be good
+company for you."
+
+Damaris felt very lonely in the big house. She sometimes went through
+the beautiful rooms with Stevens, but she could take no pleasure in
+their contents.
+
+"It is a waste of life, Stevens," she said one day, "to spend all your
+money and strength on things that you have to leave behind you when you
+die. I keep thinking of that verse in the Bible:
+
+   "'Then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?'"
+
+"They are yours, Miss Damaris—they will be when you're married," said
+Stevens, who could not follow her young mistress's train of thought.
+
+Damaris looked round her with a little whimsical smile. She was
+standing in an oak-panelled Jacobean-furnished room. The great bed with
+its tapestry hangings, the old chests, and beautiful chairs, the heavy
+silver candlesticks on the carved oak mantelpiece, all seemed to her
+gloomy in the extreme, though the bright sunshine was streaming through
+the windows.
+
+"I wouldn't sleep in this room, or take it for my own, Stevens, for
+a hundred pounds," she said; "and yet how Uncle Ambrose used to love
+it!" Her voice faltered. "Oh, Stevens, I do want them back. I feel
+frightened of the future. They were always so safe, so reliable!"
+
+"They were very fond of you, Miss Damaris; and there, now—did I not
+tell you what Mr. Simeon said to me not long before his end? He said,
+'Tell Miss Damaris that her mother's escritoire in my study is hers, as
+well as the furnishing of her own room. The rest will be her husband's
+property.' I don't quite make out what he meant, poor gentleman, for
+the whole house is yours, surely."
+
+"I haven't seen the will," said Damaris, in hesitating tones; "but Mr.
+Dane seems to think they are his. And of course, when we marry, there
+will be no question of to whom they belong."
+
+"Miss Damaris, my dear, I've known you from a child, but you don't
+appear to be over-eager about this marriage. If so be as you'll have
+enough left to you—and surely the masters have put you first—I'll be
+willing to go with you anywhere you like. But don't marry if you're not
+sure whether it will be a happy thing for you."
+
+"You're a dear, Stevens," said Damaris, tears rising suddenly to her
+eyes; "but I am in no doubt as to what I ought to do. I am glad you
+told me about my mother's writing-table. I would like it moved up to my
+room as soon as possible."
+
+Stevens bustled away to see that this was done.
+
+Damaris crossed the room and opened one of the windows. Then, kneeling
+on a low stool, she leant her elbows on the window-sill and propped
+her chin in her two hands. She gazed down into the busy streets below
+dreamily. Her spirits had been so crushed by the calamity that had
+befallen her that at first she had simply acquiesced in all that came
+to her. Even Dane's proposal had almost left her unmoved. She regarded
+it as inevitable, because she felt that her uncles had wished him to
+share in their personal estate, and that it was the only way in which
+justice could be done him.
+
+And Dane was very affectionate and tender with her for the first few
+days. She was soothed and comforted by his presence. Lately she had not
+seen so much of him. Mrs. Welbeck and her daughter were back in town,
+and he spent a good deal of his time with them. He naturally did not
+feel his uncles' deaths so deeply as Damaris did, and was vexed with
+her for refusing to go to entertainments with him.
+
+Now, as she looked out of the window, the lethargic state of her
+mind seemed to be passing from her. A sudden vista of freedom
+and independence came to her, of taking Stevens as her maid, and
+travelling, of seeing some of the places to which she had always longed
+to go. She drew a long breath. She looked backwards half-fearfully into
+the sombre bed-room behind her.
+
+"Did my uncles expect me to live in this house for ever and ever?
+Shall I never have any change? If I marry Dane, shall I still have to
+stay in these old rooms, and sit at home with my work, whilst he goes
+out and enjoys himself with other women? I feel that this will be my
+life. And oh! I just long to break away from it all! How often I used
+to wish that some change would come into my life. Now it has come—the
+door seems open—and yet I can't go out! And I'm afraid I don't like
+the idea of marrying Dane. I don't feel quite sure of him—but I have
+promised—and I seem shut-up to it!"
+
+She sighed at such thoughts, then saw Mr. Hunter crossing the street
+towards the house.
+
+She knew he was still busy over some of her uncles' papers. They had
+made him their chief executor, and he came nearly every day to the
+library to overhaul the contents of a big writing bureau that stood
+there. A sudden impulse took her downstairs. She determined to ask
+him the exact terms of the will. She had asked Dane more than once,
+but he had waived the subject, and she had a longing to know exactly
+how she was situated. When she entered the room, she found Mr. Hunter
+just settling down to work, but he turned at once towards her with a
+fatherly smile.
+
+"Well, Miss Damaris, how are you? Why are you not out this lovely
+morning?"
+
+"I hope I am not interrupting you," said Damaris, with dignity; "but
+I think I have a right to know about my uncles' will. I have never
+been told, and I should like you to explain it now. Have they left
+everything between myself and my cousin? Uncle Ambrose told me some
+time ago that I should come in for it all, but from what he said to
+me when he was ill, I fancy he must have made some alteration. They
+were so fond of Dane. They seemed to think he appreciated all their
+treasures more than I did."
+
+Mr. Hunter hesitated.
+
+"You place me in an awkward position," he said. "Has not your cousin
+told you? It will make no difference to you. Happily you two young
+people fell in love with each other before the codicil was drawn up."
+
+"What is the codicil?" asked Damaris. "I really have a right to see it,
+if it has anything to do with me."
+
+"Well, you are not a child, my dear, and so I will tell you. As I
+say, it will make no difference to you. Your uncles revoked their
+former will, and instead of leaving everything to you, left it all to
+your cousin unconditionally. I did not approve of the alteration, I
+protested against it; but your uncles were determined. Mr. Dane took
+their hearts by storm. You know their old-fashioned notion, that women
+were helpless as far as money or business was concerned. They were
+convinced that your welfare would be considered by your cousin, and
+that your marriage to him would be an accomplished fact."
+
+Damaris looked at him with clear steady eyes.
+
+"Then you mean to say that I am penniless, and that it will be no
+advantage to my cousin if he marries me? Can you tell me when he knew
+this?"
+
+"When I showed him the codicil. It was a surprise to him as it is to
+you. He had always thought that you would be the chief benefiter by the
+will."
+
+"And upon what date did you show him the will?"
+
+Mr. Hunter referred to his pocket-book and told her.
+
+Damaris stood before him very straight and slim. And as Mr. Hunter's
+keen eyes met hers, he knew that this was no weak helpless girl who
+would sink under the blow which she had just received.
+
+"I think you ought to have told me this before," she said gravely.
+
+"I think I ought," he replied. "It was weakness on my part not to have
+done so. But you asked no questions, and I knew what a troublous time
+you had had of it, and thought it best to defer the information. It
+will make no practical difference to you, will it?"
+
+"All the difference in the world," she said.
+
+And she walked out of the room, still carrying her head like a young
+queen, but with a heart as heavy as lead.
+
+She went up to her own room, which was filled with the afternoon
+sunshine. Stevens and the maids had been there, for her mother's
+beautiful secretaire was in the window. It was of Chinese workmanship,
+so beautifully inlaid with mother-of-pearl that it was iridescent.
+Inside, it was fitted with sapphire-blue velvet. As a little child, she
+had loved to pass her small fingers over its surface. But now, for the
+time, she did not heed it.
+
+She sat down at the open window with troubled eyes. She knew now that
+Dane had proposed to her before he had been told of the codicil; that
+he had been under the impression that he was offering himself to a
+young heiress. Was this the explanation of his gradual coolness and
+indifference to her? She could not but acknowledge to herself that, as
+a lover, he left much to be desired.
+
+"But then," she told herself, "I am not in love with him. I don't know
+why I said 'Yes,' except that I knew the uncles wished it; and I was
+feeling so lonely and miserable, that it was nice to feel that somebody
+cared for me. What a shock it must have been to him when he was shown
+the codicil! Oh, I hope I don't wrong him, but I think—I think that
+money is more to him than a wife. I never have felt that I am worth
+very much in his eyes. I am not smart enough, or amusing enough to
+capture his heart. He much prefers to be with the Welbecks. It is good
+of him to have kept me in ignorance of my position. But I am thankful
+that I am ignorant no longer!"
+
+As she sat, thinking deeply, she longed as she had often longed before,
+to have some woman to advise her.
+
+And then Stevens came to the door.
+
+"Mr. Dane has called. Will you see him?"
+
+"Certainly," said Damaris with decision. "Don't show him up here. I
+will go to him."
+
+Dane came forward, when he saw her, with outstretched hands.
+
+"Damaris, dear, will you come out with me? I have been so busy the last
+few days that I fear you will think I have forgotten you."
+
+He drew her to him and kissed her.
+
+Damaris turned a little from him so that his kiss only touched the edge
+of her cheek; but he did not appear to notice anything amiss.
+
+"I don't think I will come out this afternoon," she said, "it is too
+hot."
+
+"I thought you might like to come round to the Welbecks. Mrs. Welbeck
+has called upon you, hasn't she? She's so anxious to befriend you. For
+my sake, you won't repel her advances, will you? She really would be a
+good friend for you, Damaris. She knows everyone worth knowing, and you
+can't always shut yourself up in this old house away from the world."
+
+"But, Dane, it is barely a month since my uncles died. Nobody could
+expect me to be out and about just yet."
+
+Dane made an impatient movement.
+
+"You're so old-fashioned! Mrs. Welbeck was only saying yesterday that
+it must be very bad for you to be so much alone."
+
+"Perhaps it is," said Damaris quietly; "but I am accustomed to it. I
+wish you could find your sister. It would be nice to know her."
+
+Dane looked a little uncomfortable.
+
+"I meant to have told you," he said. "I did trace her—at least, I heard
+all about her. But our family trouble has driven it out of my head.
+And I don't know that I should do her any good by going to see her. It
+might just unsettle her."
+
+"Your sister, Dane?"
+
+Damaris showed the amazement she felt.
+
+He gave a short laugh.
+
+"She's doing all right for herself. She's working in the City. The
+honest truth is, if I turned up, she would think I ought to keep
+her—especially now. I didn't know she was so badly off. The aunt she
+lived with left her nothing—old wretch! Her money went to her son who's
+abroad somewhere. I don't feel like having Nellie on me for good and
+all. She would expect to live with me—and how would you like that?"
+
+"Do you think she is very like you, Dane?"
+
+"Haven't a notion. Why?"
+
+"She might be very different. She might prefer her independence. I
+can't think that you mean to leave her alone, and never let her know
+that you are in England."
+
+"Oh, I'll see her some time or other," said Dane vaguely.
+
+There was silence between them. He was conscious of her disapproval,
+and was annoyed with her in consequence.
+
+"Now, I ask you again, Damaris, to come round to the Welbecks with me.
+Do it to please me."
+
+"Is it their 'At Home' day?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then I really cannot. Mrs. Welbeck ought not to expect me. I won't
+keep you, Dane, as you're going. Come round another day, and let us go
+out of London for a day. I should really enjoy that."
+
+She parted from him pleasantly with a smile on her lips, and watched
+him go out of the house and walk down the street. She fancied she could
+see the relief he felt, in his light easy step and the swing of his
+broad shoulders.
+
+And then she turned to go upstairs again, and these words escaped her—
+
+"You will soon be rid of me, Dane. You will not have long to wait."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+FREEDOM AT LAST
+
+IT was the next morning that Damaris sat at her mother's escritoire.
+There were some old papers in it, and the little drawers needed
+tidying. But she found nothing of any value—a few receipted bills, some
+odd bits of sealing-wax, and some old-fashioned thin envelopes and
+paper. Then she opened a little secret drawer, and in it she found some
+old letters. They had evidently lain there unnoticed for many years.
+The ink had turned brown. She took them tenderly into her hand; they
+were addressed to her mother, and were all of them dated from "The
+Hall, Little Marley."
+
+Damaris had always imagined her mother was an Italian of rather humble
+birth, as her uncles never mentioned her, and when she asked once if
+she had no relations, they answered severely—
+
+"We are your relations. Are we not enough?"
+
+Her fingers trembled as she opened the letters and read their contents.
+They seemed to be all written by a sister of her mother's, evidently
+a much younger girl than herself, and were addressed to Villa Rosini,
+Florence. This was the first one she read—
+
+   "MY DARLING LILIAN,—HOW I loved getting a letter from you at last!
+Papa cannot prevent us writing to each other, can he? And what a
+heavenly life you must be leading! Miss Graves and I struggle on in the
+schoolroom, and mamma asks daily if I am improving in my studies. Oh,
+why did papa give us such a prig of a stepmother? I'm only happy when I
+get away into the stables, or ride off on Peter and have a good gallop
+over the common. Morris has just left the 'Britannia'—he's been home,
+and we've had fine fun together. Give my love to your Hubert. I hope I
+shall meet a handsome man like him when I grow up, who will marry me
+quickly before mamma can stop it. When I look at fat old Colonel Gascon
+in church, and think what Hubert saved you from, I feel I ought not to
+grumble at our separation. If mamma didn't keep up the bad feeling,
+papa would have you home again with Hubert, but she nags on about the
+disgrace you have been to the family, and what shocking characters all
+artists are! And then papa thinks he must agree with her. Did I tell
+you that Uncle Fred had discovered Hubert's queer old uncles in London?
+He said they were City people—but quite educated, and mad on collecting
+old furniture!
+
+                      "Your loving—
+
+                                  "BARBIE."
+
+The others were written in the same strain, mentioning the unhappy
+atmosphere at home, and breathing rebellion against the rule of the
+stepmother. Damaris was keenly interested in the discovery of her
+mother's relatives and home. It was a revelation to her that instead
+of her mother being socially inferior to her father—from her parents'
+point of view—she was his superior.
+
+She sat for hours with these letters on her lap, reading and re-reading
+them, trying to fit in missing links, and picturing to herself this
+young aunt writing so lovingly to the absent elder sister.
+
+"They were all written before I was born. I wonder if they ever knew of
+my existence. Father used to tell me how he hurried home to his uncles
+when my mother died. It is strange that they never made enquiries about
+me. I suppose they wouldn't care about a small baby. I wonder if they
+are still living?"
+
+Damaris sat lost in thought, and was only roused by the luncheon gong.
+She said nothing to Stevens of her discovery. For the time, she kept it
+to herself.
+
+
+Two or three days after, Dane surprised her by coming to the house
+about ten o'clock in the morning. He looked very alert, and informed
+her that two men from Christie's were coming by appointment to look
+over the house.
+
+"They've heard how many treasures are in it, and are very keen to see
+them."
+
+"What possible business is it of theirs?" said Damaris rather loftily.
+"I suppose you know that our uncles would never allow any dealer or
+trader in old furniture to enter the house."
+
+"Ah well, times have changed. I wonder if you have any idea, Damaris,
+how much some of this old stuff would fetch at Christie's sales. They
+would figure in many thousands."
+
+"But as you are not going to sell anything, it doesn't matter."
+
+Dane looked at her.
+
+"I am going to sell every bit of it," he said. "Why should I not? Do I
+want these immaculate Sheraton and Chippendale suites? I want money,
+and plenty of it. You shall choose any few bits for yourself, Damaris;
+but I am arranging with Christie for a sale as soon as possible."
+
+Damaris drew a long breath.
+
+"And they left everything to you because they thought you valued it all
+as they did!" She said no more, but walked upstairs away from him.
+
+Dane shrugged his shoulders and went on with his arrangements.
+
+
+And as Damaris in her sitting-room upstairs heard the tramp of the
+men's feet up and down, the stairs and in and out of the rooms, she
+murmured to herself—
+
+"It is enough to make the ghosts of my uncles appear and walk through
+the house!"
+
+Then she started up from her seat, for a scheme that she had been
+turning over in her head now seemed perfectly feasible.
+
+"If he does it, I shall do it too. I want ready money more than he
+does. But I won't take one penny from him, and he might feel obliged to
+offer me some. Oh, I am as free as air at last! It would be bondage of
+the bitterest kind to live my life with him. Money is what he loves, no
+one or nothing else occupies his heart."
+
+So, very quietly and determinedly, Damaris began to act for herself.
+She did not even take Stevens into her confidence. She went to a man
+who had worked for her uncles for years. He was a dealer in antique
+furniture and curios. And she brought him up to her sitting-room and
+sold him then and there everything that was of value in it.
+
+When she came to her mother's secretaire, she hesitated. The dealer
+seemed keenly anxious to buy it. It had been given to her mother, she
+knew, by her uncles as a wedding present. Her Uncle Ambrose had been
+travelling through Italy, had come across it in Florence, and had
+despatched it to the young couple's villa there. Her father had brought
+it home with him, as his young wife had loved it.
+
+After some discussion, Damaris agreed to let the dealer have it for a
+certain sum of money considerably under its value. She would let him
+know in three months' time if she wished to have it again. In fact,
+as she acknowledged to herself, she pawned it for some ready money.
+He asked when he might fetch the things away, and she told him in two
+days' time.
+
+Then quietly and expeditiously, she began to pack some of her clothes
+in a light suit-case. All this was done in secrecy. Stevens wondered at
+her young mistress's silence, but there was something in the sparkle of
+her eyes, and in the animation of her voice, that made her hope she was
+recovering her health and spirits.
+
+And then Damaris suggested to Stevens to take her usual monthly
+holiday. At first she had difficulty in making her do it.
+
+"I don't like leaving you, Miss Damaris, my dear."
+
+"But I want to be left. I am not at all lonely, and I mean to go out
+to-morrow myself."
+
+"With Mr. Dane?"
+
+"No; not with him. I am all right, Stevens. I do assure you I shall be.
+And I am happier than I have been for a long time. The future seems
+full of possibilities to me."
+
+Stevens looked at her and smiled.
+
+"You are young, and the world is before you, miss. I am glad you are
+happy. Mr. Dane will settle down soon, I hope. I shall be at ease when
+you are married. You are so lonely now."
+
+No more was said.
+
+
+Stevens departed for her home in the country at ten o'clock.
+
+At eleven, Damaris ordered a taxi, and with her suit-case and her
+dressing-bag in her hand, went off to Paddington Station. There was a
+flush on her cheeks and a light in her eyes that had not been there for
+many a long day.
+
+That afternoon Dane called to see her. He was handed a note by the
+housemaid, and this was the contents of it—
+
+   "MY DEAR DANE,—I have slipped away from you for good and all. Our
+engagement was a farce. I don't know how we have managed to persist in
+it these last few weeks. I do appreciate your goodness in not having
+told me of the alteration of the will, but I am perfectly certain that
+you will be relieved than otherwise at my decision. We are not suited
+to each other, Dane. I think we have both realised this lately. I felt
+I could not stay to argue the point with you, and I am in a hurry to
+get away, so forgive my hasty departure. Now I know why you are loth to
+make yourself known to your sister, I feel the sooner I make room for
+her the better. You will do something for her, will you not? I shall
+like to think that you will. I am leaving no address, but I have made
+my own plans, and am very happy about my future. Perhaps one day we may
+meet again. The house is now your home, and not mine, and so you cannot
+expect me to stay in it.
+
+                             "Your affectionate cousin,—
+
+                                                   "DAMARIS."
+
+Dane swore when he read this, and then, pacing the loom in his usual
+restless way, he came to the conclusion that Damaris was right, and
+they really had nothing in common, nor were in the slightest way suited
+to become husband and wife.
+
+"She's pretty and well-bred, and isn't a fool, but she's so prudish!"
+he said to himself.
+
+Selfishly, he never gave her future a thought.
+
+But when he met Stevens the next day, the vials of that good woman's
+wrath were let loose upon him.
+
+She made him read the letter Damaris had left for her—
+
+   "MY DEAR OLD STEVENS,—I can see how round your eyes will get when you
+come back and find me gone! I had to run away from you, for you would
+have cried and remonstrated and refused to let me go, and there was
+really nothing else for me to do. I have discovered that I am left
+absolutely penniless, and the house is Mr. Dane's, and I will not
+be dependent on him for charity. For, Stevens, dear, after fighting
+against it for some weeks, I know for certain now that I made a great
+mistake in becoming engaged to him. He and I are absolutely unsuited to
+each other, and the more I see of him, the more convinced I am of it.
+
+   "Don't fret for a moment about me. I have money, for I have sold the
+contents of my room, and I have a small balance of my dress allowance
+in the bank. I know exactly what I mean to do. I am out on an
+adventure, and I thrill when I think of it. I shall be perfectly wise
+and prudent and proper. I shall get into no scrape at all. And, later
+on, I may write to you and tell you where I am. But not just yet. I
+know you would have liked to come away with me, but I'm afraid I could
+not have afforded to keep you with me. And you might not have approved
+of my intentions. Stay with Mr. Dane if you can. But I have your home
+address, and I can always write to you there.
+
+   "Mr. Dane is selling all our uncles' treasures. How it would break
+their hearts if they were alive! I felt I wanted to get out of the
+house before Christie's vans came to remove it all. No more for now.
+I feel like a bird flying out of his cage. Good-bye, and a thousand
+thanks for all your kindness and devotedness.
+
+                           "Yours always affectionately,
+
+                                              "DAMARIS."
+
+"Now, sir, what are you going to do? The poor child casting herself out
+in the streets with hardly a penny in her purse! And I don't wonder
+at it; for you, who said you were going to wed her, leaving her alone
+day after day to her sorrow, and she knowing you were off to enjoy
+yourself with your fine London ladies! 'Tis enough to make her march
+off in disgust of heart; but where she is and what she is doing is past
+my understanding! Oh, it was a sorry day when your foot crossed our
+threshold!
+
+"Miss Damaris gave up her young life and spent all her beauty and
+freshness in pleasing two old men, who always told her they would leave
+her their all. And then you come along and you made my poor masters
+believe in you; and you vowed to them how you adored their treasures,
+and they thought and said to me how much more you cared for it all than
+dear Miss Damaris, and you all the time laughing in your sleeve at
+them. And no sooner do they lie under the ground than you set to work
+to sell what they have spent their lives in collecting.
+
+"But I would forgive you that treachery; yes, I would, with all my
+heart, if you had the least bit of love for my sweet young lady. You
+professed that you cared for her; you led my masters to believe you
+did. Do you think they meant her, poor child, to be turned out of
+her old home penniless? If any harm comes to her, you will be the
+cause of it. You've treated her as no gentleman would treat a dog.
+You forced yourself upon her when you thought she had the money, and
+when you found the money would be yours without her, you turned the
+cold shoulder and despised and neglected her. And you've driven her
+away—she, a poor innocent girl who knows nothing of the world's wicked
+ways—out now without a soul to protect or care for her. Are you going
+to sit here doing nothing? Isn't there ways of tracing and finding the
+lost? Don't you mean to do it?"
+
+Stevens gasped for breath.
+
+Dane had listened to her tirade with amused indifference; but once
+or twice he felt the sting of her tongue. But he was not going to be
+browbeat by a woman. He answered her very sternly—
+
+"If you weren't in a very hysterical state, Stevens, I should give
+it to you well for your impertinence and foolishness. I am as vexed
+as you are at Miss Hartbrook's disappearance. She is behaving like
+a silly foolish child. We shall doubtless hear from her in a day or
+two, or from the friends to whom she has gone. Of course, I shall make
+immediate inquiries for her. Her nerves must be much upset to make her
+behave so. But as her affianced husband, I consider she has treated me
+extremely badly. She certainly does want to see more of the world and
+have her mind broadened. She has secluded herself in this gloomy old
+house and refused to come about with me till she has got all kinds of
+delusions and false fancies into her head. I am not going to be cast on
+one side in such a manner. And when I find her and bring her back here,
+I shall show her that it is she who has behaved badly and in a most
+dishonourable and treacherous manner!"
+
+He walked out of the room, leaving a tearful Stevens gazing after him
+in a dumbfounded fashion. He did in his own way try to trace Damaris,
+but days passed, and he was entirely unsuccessful.
+
+He thought that she was swallowed up in the great metropolis. Neither
+he nor Stevens had any idea that she had gone out of London.
+
+Stevens knew that she had no friends, and every day she would roam up
+and down the streets and parks, hoping to come across her.
+
+Then Dane suddenly paid off all the servants, Stevens amongst them,
+emptied the house of all that was in it and shut it up, went to Paris
+with Mrs. Welbeck and her daughters, and never mentioned Damaris by
+name.
+
+Stevens went home, comforting herself with Damaris's promise to write
+to her there.
+
+Six weeks afterwards, Dane's approaching marriage with the youngest
+Miss Welbeck was announced in the "Morning Post."
+
+
+Meanwhile, Damaris was pursuing her own plans with much deliberation of
+purpose.
+
+As her train steamed out of Paddington station, she felt she was on the
+threshold of a new life. She was thrilled to her finger tips with the
+excitement of the moment.
+
+"Now I know what a runaway feels like," she said to herself, as she
+gazed out at the country to which she was so swiftly passing. "I ought
+to feel frightened and depressed at my uncertain future. I don't even
+know where I am going to sleep to-night. But there are inns in every
+village, I know, and there must be one in Marley. How little I thought
+I should be so delighted to get away from Dane! When first he came, I
+admired him so much; but lately he has felt like a regular old man of
+the sea on my shoulders. He looks as handsome as ever he did, but it's
+his mind that is so sordid and mean. I felt contaminated by it when I
+talked to him."
+
+Then she began to muse upon her plans.
+
+Damaris had determined to seek out her relatives. She had made a note
+of the address on the old letters she had found in her mother's desk,
+and she was going down to the village of Marley to see if any of the
+family were still left in the neighbourhood. She did not intend to make
+herself known to them directly. She hoped, if her grandfather were
+dead, that her mother's young sister might be still living. She was
+her hope, for Damaris felt that she would be received by her for her
+mother's sake.
+
+In a little bag tied round her neck and secreted under her dress was
+the whole of her property in bank notes. She was not an inefficient
+housekeeper, and she calculated that she could live for many months in
+a quiet way upon what she possessed. Not a shade of anxiety for the
+future dimmed her outlook.
+
+As she sat back in a third-class railway carriage, her grey eyes were
+full of dreams: her lips closed with determined resolve. And her heart
+was beating unevenly, for the spirit of adventure had seized hold of
+her, and there was the excitement of a strange unknown future before
+her. The realisation that for the first time in her life she was her
+own mistress, and a free agent, brought a wonderful rest and relief to
+her soul.
+
+"I may make mistakes," she was assuring herself; "but I shall have no
+one to scold me if I do. I am responsible to none. It is new life to
+me; and how exquisite it will be to wander through the country at my
+own free will, to have turned my back for once and all upon London's
+grimy stuffy streets and houses! I will never go back there again if I
+can help it!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A COUNTRY LODGING
+
+"LITTLE MARLEY," sang out the one and only porter at the small country
+station, which was Damaris's destination.
+
+She stepped out on the platform with a brave heart, and looked around
+her. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and on this June day the
+sun was beating down fiercely on the dusty road outside the station.
+Fields stretched around it; there was no village to be seen.
+
+"Where is the village," asked Damaris.
+
+The stationmaster, a little stout fussy man, came bustling forward.
+
+"Are you expecting a trap, madam? Marley is a good two miles off. Maybe
+you are going to the Hall?"
+
+"Oh, no," said Damaris hastily. "I have come into the country for
+change of air. Is there a good inn in Marley?"
+
+The stationmaster looked at her curiously.
+
+"Well," he said, slowly, "there's the 'Black Swan,' but it's hardly
+accommodation for a lady."
+
+"I dare say they may be able to direct me to some rooms," said Damaris;
+"unless you know of any—do you? Is there any nice farm near?"
+
+The stationmaster turned to the porter.
+
+"Tom, is Mrs. Patch letting rooms this summer, d'ye know?"
+
+"I've heerd tell she is," replied the porter slowly.
+
+"'Tis the baker's, madam—corner of the village as you go in."
+
+"Thank you very much. Will you keep my case here till I send for it? If
+it is only two miles, I can easily walk there."
+
+"Look here, miss," suggested the porter in a more animated tone; "if
+you don't come back in a couple of hours, I shall know you're biding
+with Mrs. Patch—I go home to tea at six and pass her door—I'll bring up
+your case with me, and you won't be troubled to do nothing."
+
+Damaris smiled at him gratefully.
+
+"That will be very good of you. I suppose I can't miss my way?"
+
+"Keep straight up the lane and turn off to the right at the first
+cross-roads," said the stationmaster. "And if Mrs. Patch have lodgers,
+she'll tell you whether Merry Cross Farm might put you up."
+
+"Thank you very much."
+
+And as she left the station behind her, Damaris said the herself—
+
+"How simple and easy everything is in the country. I suppose they all
+know each other and each other's business."
+
+The air seemed fresh and sweet; the trees and hedges had not long
+worn their fresh coats of green; honeysuckle and wild rose were just
+beginning to blossom; and Damaris lifted her eyes and heart up to the
+blue sky with a feeling of exultation.
+
+"I don't care where I sleep," she asserted to herself, "as long as it
+is clean. But I had a fancy for a village inn. They sound, in books, so
+romantic and picturesque."
+
+When she reached the cross-roads, she began to feel very warm and a
+little tired. She was carrying her dressing-bag, which was heavy, and
+seeing a fallen trunk of a tree lying in the hedge, she sat down on it
+to have a rest. Presently she heard voices in the distance, and in a
+few minutes, two people came walking past her. The woman was tall and
+rather broad-shouldered, she had a quantity of golden-brown hair, and
+wore a white serge coat and gown and a white panama hat with a plain
+band of black round it. She had a walking-stick in her hand, and strode
+over the ground in rather a masculine fashion. The man, who was in
+grey flannel, was just a little taller than she was, and was evidently
+enjoying a joke with her, for his laugh rang out, and she said rather
+sharply—
+
+"I do wish you would be sensible."
+
+"But I couldn't at this juncture, to save my life," was the light
+retort.
+
+They passed on with just a side glance at Damaris, and she gazed after
+them with the greatest interest.
+
+"I am sure they must come from the Hall," she said to herself. "They
+look like it."
+
+Then she got up and pursued her way to the village. It seemed a long
+straight highroad now, but she presently passed a couple of labourers'
+cottages, then a farm-house, and at last came to the village. The
+square tower of the church stood up in the middle of it. She soon
+saw the baker's shop, for loaves of bread were in the window. It
+was a thatched white-washed cottage, that presented its end to the
+village street. A small wooden gate opened into a very pretty flower
+garden, and the cottage faced it. The door stood open, and a stout
+motherly-looking woman, with arms akimbo, was talking to a little
+wizened old man in the porch.
+
+"No, Job, you don't, now! If you value beer more than bread, take your
+coppers to the 'Black Swan'; if you want the bread, hand out your
+coppers, for I'll not trust you, so there!"
+
+Damaris opened the gate, and both man and woman turned towards her in
+surprise.
+
+"I have been told that you let rooms," she said, addressing the woman;
+"have you any vacant at present?"
+
+Mrs. Patch led the way in hastily, but the old man held out some
+coppers.
+
+"Here, give us a loaf—the missis must come first, I reckon; but you
+never were neighbourly, Mrs. Patch."
+
+"Excuse me, miss, one moment."
+
+Damaris found herself in a charming little kitchen; everything was
+bright and shining, from the freshly black-leaded stove to the copper
+pans on the dresser, and the red flower-pots of geraniums upon the deep
+window-sill.
+
+When Mrs. Patch had dismissed her customer, she turned to Damaris.
+
+"Will you be wanting a bed-room only?"
+
+Damaris hesitated.
+
+"I should like a sitting-room, if you have one."
+
+"For how long?"
+
+"I am not quite sure. I have come from London, and I want to spend
+summer in the country."
+
+"And 'tis only for yourself?"
+
+"Yes, I am quite alone."
+
+Mrs. Patch glanced at Damaris's black clothes, and nodded her head in
+an understanding fashion.
+
+"Well, what be you prepared to pay? 'Tis best to be quite business-like
+at first go off."
+
+"I should like to see the rooms first," said Damaris, with quiet
+dignity.
+
+Mrs. Patch led the way upstairs.
+
+"I've lodged the curick for two years in these here rooms, so you may
+judge they're quite in style. I have a small parlour downstairs, but
+I'm not favourable to lettin' it, for I come of a long fam'ly, and they
+have a way of droppin' over on a Sunday, and I puts 'em in it while I'm
+dishin' dinner. Now what do you say to these?"
+
+She ushered Damaris into a tiny room with a very big bed and a very
+big press. There was just room to walk between them. The window
+overlooked a bit of wild common, and Damaris was delighted with the
+view. The sitting-room was next to it. It was also small, but very
+snug and clean. There was a small horse-hair couch with white crochet
+antimacassars draped over it, a round table, a cupboard in the wall,
+and a row of books on the top of it. An arm-chair, also horse-hair, a
+cane chair, and a little table with a stuffed owl in a glass case upon
+it completed the furniture of the room.
+
+Mrs. Patch stepped up to the window.
+
+"The curick used to sit in this here window in his arm-chair with his
+pipe, and he told me he wanted no more on earth," she said solemnly.
+"He was a student o' human natur', same as I am myself. An' if you step
+up you can see the 'Black Swan,' and every man and boy that frequents
+it; an' you can see the Rectory door, and the folks who go in and out,
+an' also the church gate; an' also by cranin' your neck, you catches
+a sight of the front lodge gate to the Hall; and every blessed person
+that comes up and down the village street is straight before your eyes.
+Why, London couldn't give you more, now, could it?"
+
+Damaris's sense of humour was tickled, and she laughed out so merrily
+that Mrs. Patch gazed at her in astonishment.
+
+"If you only knew," Damaris said apologetically, "that my life has
+always been that—sitting at a window and watching people outside. I
+want something different now. I want to be outside myself."
+
+Then, seeing that Mrs. Patch was still gazing at her gravely, she said
+hastily—
+
+"I am sure these rooms will do very nicely, and on a wet day I shall
+enjoy looking out of my window very much. Now, about the charge?"
+
+"Do you want me to feed you same as I did the curick? Thirty shillings
+he gave me every week, everything included, and he said I fed him like
+a prince. And he paid in advance, like the gentleman he was."
+
+"Then I would like to do the same, please."
+
+Damaris took out her purse, and laid down two notes on the table.
+
+Mrs. Patch took them and thanked her, and Damaris told her that her
+luggage would be following shortly.
+
+"That will be all right, and, if you're not tired, maybe you'd like
+to take a little walk round, so as to find your way about, while I'm
+putting sheets in your bed and having a dust round. You'll find us a
+quiet house. My husband is in the bakehouse when he ain't out on his
+rounds, and his mother, who lives with us, is bed-ridden. And you'd
+like an early tea, no doubt. Shall we say five o'clock?"
+
+Damaris assented. She was more than willing to go out. As she descended
+the small stairs, the smell of hot bread was so appetising that she
+longed for her tea hour; and then the sweet country air took her
+thoughts away from food.
+
+Not very far from the house, she found an old wooden gate partly open,
+a little lane behind it led right up to the common. She followed this
+up a short rather steep ascent, and then the common lay before her as
+far as her eye could reach. Great clumps of golden gorse brightened
+the landscape for miles, but there were also beautiful groups of old
+trees—beeches, hawthorns, oaks and ash broke the monotony of the
+ground. She was tired with her journey and did not go very far. She
+found a seat below an old oak—a thicket of hawthorn was behind her, and
+in front an open expanse of fresh green earth and blue sky. Larks were
+mounting in the air, singing as they went.
+
+Damaris had as yet not found much comfort in prayer. It had been more
+of a form of words to her than of reality, but now she felt impelled to
+look upwards and thank God that she had been led to this village.
+
+"I have fallen on my feet. If I do not find any trace of my mother's
+family, I shall at least have the enjoyment and rest of a visit here. I
+could not have found rooms in an easier fashion. I walked straight into
+them. It really does seem as if everything had been made easy for me."
+
+She sat there for nearly an hour deep in thought. She knew she had
+taken rather a rash step in severing herself so suddenly from her old
+home and belongings, and yet she did not for an instant regret it.
+
+When she returned to her rooms, her face was as bright as a child's.
+Mrs. Patch had spread tea in the little sitting-room, and it looked
+most inviting.
+
+"I've b'iled you an egg, and there's a bit of cress from the brook
+which comes down from the common, and the gooseberry jam is my own
+making, and there's bread and butter as much as you can eat. If you're
+come from London, you're ready for a meal I'm sure."
+
+She lingered as Damaris sat down at the table and poured herself out a
+cup of tea from the little brown tea-pot.
+
+"It's just delicious, every bit of it," she said enthusiastically; "and
+oh, what a wonderful common you have!"
+
+"Most folks like that. Master and I be wondering what made you fix your
+fancy on Marley as a place to come to. 'Tis out of the usual way for
+sight-seers."
+
+Damaris had yet to become acquainted with the insatiable curiosity that
+exists in most small country villages. She answered carefully—
+
+"It was an aunt of mine who mentioned the common in one of her letters.
+I thought I would like to see it."
+
+"Did she live here once upon a time? Or, maybe, came to stay. Perhaps a
+visitor at the Rectory or Hall?"
+
+"It was a long time ago," said Damaris, and her tone was very
+dignified. "She was staying here, no doubt; but I had a fancy to come.
+Is there any bell to ring? You would like to know when to clear away."
+
+"Oh, we have no bells in this house," said Mrs. Patch. "Just give a tap
+with your heel on the floor, or give me a call down the stairs. And
+then, at nine or so, I'll bring you a cup of cocoa and some scones to
+go to bed on."
+
+She bustled downstairs.
+
+Damaris wondered if it would be difficult to keep her secret.
+
+When Tom Webb brought her suit-case up to the house, the talk outside
+the gate was distinctly audible to her through the open window.
+
+"Good evening, Mrs. Patch. We've sent you a nice young leddy, h'ain't
+we? Me and Mr. Page say she be no or'nary female out for a few days'
+burst!"
+
+"Hem!" said Mrs. Patch, coughing discreetly. "She has the appearance
+of quality, sure enough, but you has to take these young lonely ladies
+carefully. I studies human natur', Tom, as you know. She has somethin'
+she's not a mind to tell. I can tell it in the look of her eye. Why did
+she come here? There's an aunt, she told me, who knows this part, but
+she didn't give me the name o' her aunt, and was standoffish in her
+voice. I'll find out about that aunt before very long!"
+
+"No you won't," said Damaris to herself.
+
+She shut the window gently, for she had heard quite enough to be
+undesirous of hearing more.
+
+"What an interfering curious old landlady I have got," she thought,
+with dismay in her heart. "How awfully careful I shall have to be. I
+told her too much. I shall be more discreet in future."
+
+Mrs. Patch certainly got no more out of Damaris that night.
+
+
+The next day was, unfortunately, wet. After she had had her breakfast,
+Damaris took out her work-bag and began to embroider. About eleven
+o'clock, Mrs. Patch came in to ask her something about dinner, and then
+Damaris asked if the old mother would like her to pay her a visit. Mrs.
+Patch looked quite pleased.
+
+"She's rare glad to have a chat with anyone—the curick used to pop in
+nearly every day. He called her gran'ma."
+
+So Damaris was taken along a tiny passage and into a very clean and
+rather spacious bed-room. The old woman, sitting up in bed with her
+clean frilled cap and spectacles on her nose and a big Bible in front
+of her, made a pretty picture of old age, and Damaris lost her heart to
+her at once.
+
+"You look as if you have just walked out of a book," she said to the
+old woman.
+
+"Well, she's always happy—I will say that for her," said talkative Mrs.
+Patch, gazing at her mother-in-law with rather a critical eye. "There
+be those who are always up and those who are always down. I studies
+human natur', and so I knows. For myself, I keep on the level, and
+that's the comfortable way to take life. I don't get over-expecting
+things, nor do I get excited to tears, and so I get no disappointments.
+And I'm not in the dumps on a wet day, and think I'll never be happy
+agen if the master drinks too much or gets in a vile temper. I just
+take things calm, and keep my fears and tears for only very best
+occasions." Then, in an aside, she whispered, "Don't mind mother when
+she talks pious. 'Tis her way with us all. We smiles and takes no
+notice."
+
+She left the room. Damaris slipped into the chair by the bedside, and
+old Mrs. Patch looked up at her with a happy smile.
+
+"'Tis nice to see a bright young face, though I fear you've known
+sorrow."
+
+"Yes," said Damaris softly; "I have lost two old uncles with whom I
+always made my home. I have nobody to look after me now. It does give
+one a lonely feeling."
+
+The old woman put her hand on her Bible.
+
+"But if you know the One Who gave us His Word you're comforted."
+
+Damaris did not answer. She began to ask questions about the village
+and its inhabitants. Then she asked the momentous question—
+
+"Have you any gentle-people round here? There is a big house called the
+Hall, isn't there?"
+
+"Yes, 'tis our squire lives there—Sir Mark Murray—and a nice hearty
+gentleman he is. I've known him these thirty-seven years or more—I
+went into service with his first wife. She was a sweet gentle lady—but
+proud—oh, so proud on occasions!"
+
+"Is there a big family at the Hall?" Damaris asked. Her soul was in a
+tumult. Her mother's name was Murray. Was it possible, she wondered,
+that Sir Mark was her grandfather?
+
+"No, for they've been scattered. There was a nursery full of them when
+I went up to the Hall as nurse. Miss Lilian, slim and straight as
+yourself. 'Tis strange, but as you came in the room, I said to myself,
+it's just as if Miss Lilian be standing there! She was a beautiful
+child—wayward, but oh, such ways with her! And then there was Master
+Herbert. He's married now, and has a large family, and lives up in
+the north. Miss Lilian married, too; but that was a sore trouble. She
+went out to Italy with an aunt and met a young fellow there, and they
+got married on the quiet. There was a rare rumpus here, but I can't
+tell you the whole story. If her mother had lived, it would have been
+different. But the second Lady Murray never liked her—Miss Lilian used
+to treat her haughty like, and refused to obey her. Anyhow, she didn't
+live very long—poor Miss Lilian died after she'd been married a year.
+Where was I? Polly always says when once I begin talking of the family,
+I never stop. Then there was Master Walter; he still comes down from
+London now. He's in a lawyer's bar, I think."
+
+"A barrister," murmured Damaris.
+
+"Yes, that's it. I know they told me he was called to the Bar—and it's
+not public-house bar, but a lawyer's one. And Master Morris—he came
+next—he's a captain of a ship now. And then there's Miss Barbara the
+baby, when I first went and took charge of her."
+
+"And where is she?" asked Damaris, breathlessly. "Is she married?"
+
+"No, that she isn't; but she might have been again and again. She's
+mistress of the Hall now. Lady Murray died five years ago, and, if I
+may say so, the squire seems happier and younger now that she's gone.
+She was a bad-tempered woman, and hadn't the grace of God to keep her
+temper in check."
+
+Damaris was silent. She had hardly expected to find her grandfather
+and aunt still living in the same old house. She thought it an
+extraordinary coincidence that she had come to the very house in which
+an old servant of her family was still living.
+
+Then, not liking to appear too inquisitive, she asked about the Rector.
+
+"He's a dear kind man, but his wife is just an angel of goodness. Our
+old rector died two years ago, and he always had to have a curate, for
+he was very bronchitisy for long before he was taken. But Mr. Dashwood
+does all the work easy, and his sweet young wife visits us all most
+regular. Ah! You wait till you see her, and you'll love her as we all
+do."
+
+"I think you must all be very happy in this village," said Damaris
+thoughtfully.
+
+The old woman smiled a little sadly.
+
+"Our village is made up of what every village is, miss—the good and the
+bad together. And we all have our sorrows—my daughter-in-law downstairs
+has buried three fine sons, and no chick or child left. But we aren't
+left ignorant of the wicket-gate. Our Rector points to that very clear."
+
+Damaris smiled.
+
+"I am not good, Mrs. Patch, I wish I was; but I always have loved the
+'Pilgrim's Progress.' I used to revel in it when I was a small child.
+I'm so glad you know it."
+
+The old woman pointed to a big book on her chest of drawers.
+
+"There is old Bunyan! I used to have it in the Hall nursery, and show
+the children the pictures. Have you started out yet with your face
+towards the Holy City, miss, may I ask?"
+
+Damaris looked doubtful.
+
+"I don't think so," she said.
+
+"Then you've never felt your burden heavy! You've got it on your back,
+you know, and you'll never get inside the gates with it there."
+
+Damaris looked thoughtful. She did not feel inclined to copy her
+landlady's example to "smile and take no notice."
+
+But further conversation was stopped by the younger Mrs. Patch coming
+up with a basin of gruel for the old woman, and Damaris took the
+opportunity of slipping away. Her mind and heart were too full of her
+grandfather and aunt being so close to her to take in anything else at
+present.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+MAKING ACQUAINTANCES
+
+IN a few days, Damaris had settled down into her lodgings with a
+comfortable feeling of security and peace.
+
+Mrs. Patch, junior, amused her by her flow of talk; she listened to her
+but would give her no information about herself.
+
+On Sunday, she went to church in the morning. The country service was
+a novelty to her after the fashionable churches she had frequented in
+town. She sat well back in the church, and was intensely interested in
+watching the congregation arrive.
+
+The Squire's seat was in the chancel behind the choir boys, and
+Damaris's heart beat rapidly when she saw a tall smart-looking old man
+lead the way up to it, and the woman and man who had passed her in the
+road on the day of her first arrival following him. She could hardly
+believe that the handsome golden-haired woman was her mother's sister.
+She had such an air of youth about her, and yet bore the stamp of a
+strong masterful woman. Damaris wondered if she could ever pluck up
+courage to speak to her.
+
+And then she saw the Rector's wife come in and take her place in one
+of the front seats. She was a slight graceful woman with a very sweet
+face, and led a little curly-headed boy by the hand. Damaris had heard
+that he was her one and only child. Another seat in the church held
+some nice-looking people—two old ladies and a dark handsome man with
+a short square beard. The rest of the congregation consisted of the
+villagers.
+
+More than once Damaris met the eyes of her aunt, and of her companion
+who sat next her. She shielded herself as much as she could from
+observation by a pillar near her, and was rather relieved when the
+service was over.
+
+It was a little too early for summer visitors, and many glances fell on
+the tall graceful girl in mourning at the back of the church. Damaris
+felt almost self-conscious as she walked through the churchyard. Once
+she caught the words—
+
+"So that is Mrs. Patch's new lodger. What a pretty girl! Who is she?"
+And her cheeks burned as she hurried on.
+
+When she got to her rooms, she found the kitchen downstairs full of
+Sunday visitors. There was a smell of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding
+and of hot pastry in the oven. Damaris felt she was the recipient of
+oven smells day in and day out. She wondered that a baker did not give
+his oven a rest on Sunday, but she enjoyed a hot plate of roast beef
+and vegetables and the inevitable Yorkshire pudding, followed by a
+gooseberry tart. And then she slipped out of the house, and found her
+way up to the common.
+
+It was a lovely afternoon, and not too warm for walking. A fresh breeze
+met her as she walked on farther than she had ever walked before. The
+peace and quiet of it all delighted her. Her thoughts were, of course,
+on her mother's home. It had been a shock to her that morning to see
+that her aunt was so young in years. She had foolishly pictured her
+as a gentle elderly lady who would receive her with open arms. She
+realised now that, according to the letters she had in her possession,
+Barbara Murray could be only thirty-eight or thirty-nine. Old Mrs.
+Patch had talked of her as a young lady still.
+
+"She's hard, Miss Barbara is," she had said, when talking of her to
+Damaris. "Her temper was spoiled by her ladyship, who never understood
+children. Miss Barbara might have had a sweet temper had she been
+handled differently, she's high-spirited and boyish—she always liked
+her brother's pursoots, but she seems harder than she is at heart. She
+grew up thinkin' everybody against her, and she must defend herself.
+Often she has rushed off to me, when she could bear herself no longer,
+and I've told her patience always wins the day. Of late years, she's
+grown more reserved and proud. But she's a warm heart when once it is
+reached."
+
+This description of her aunt made Damaris shy of making herself known
+to her. She had not imagined she would find it difficult to introduce
+herself, but now she put it off from day to day, hoping that some
+opportunity might be given her, rather than that she should have to
+make it for herself.
+
+She was so deep in thought that she hardly noticed where she was going,
+until she found herself at the end of the common facing another small
+country village. An old red brick house was before her surrounded by
+elms; and further down the road were a cluster of cottages, with the
+usual village church in the midst of them. Very few people seemed
+about, and as there was a seat on the common by the side of the road,
+Damaris sat down upon it to rest.
+
+Presently an old lady came out of the big iron gates leading to the
+house in front of her. She gazed anxiously up and down the road, then
+came across to Damaris.
+
+"Excuse me, but have you seen a black-and-white fox terrier? I have
+lost him. He has periodical fits of running away, which annoys me very
+much."
+
+"I have not noticed any dog," said Damaris.
+
+The old lady looked at her sharply.
+
+"I see you are a stranger."
+
+"Yes," Damaris answered; "I am lodging in Marley, and have come across
+the common for a walk."
+
+"Really? It is a good four miles. Now I should not wonder if Scott has
+gone over to Marley to-day, for my nephew is staying at the Hall for a
+few days, and he always follows him if he gets a chance."
+
+Damaris remembered seeing a small fox terrier dancing round the Hall
+party when they left the church. She mentioned this, and the old lady
+looked quite relieved.
+
+Then she took a seat by Damaris and became very communicative.
+
+"It's quite a comfort to see anyone to talk to. You mustn't mind me—I
+am very unconventional. I always do as I like—custom or propriety does
+not affect me in the least. Now, if you were lodging in this village,
+I would have you in sometimes to talk to me when I'm feeling dull. You
+can talk, I suppose? Some young people won't open their mouths to old
+women. Are you like that? The young won't remember that old age will
+come to them. I was like that myself."
+
+"I think I like old people better than young ones; I am more accustomed
+to them," said Damaris. "I have lived with two old uncles for the last
+four years since I left school, and now they are both dead, and I miss
+them more than I can say. I am afraid I used to grumble sometimes when
+they were alive, they kept me from knowing people, but now I almost
+wish them back."
+
+"I hope they left their money to you," said the old lady bluntly.
+
+Damaris shook her head.
+
+"Perhaps they had not any to leave."
+
+"Oh, yes—a good deal; but it went to their nephew."
+
+"You interest me. Go on. What are you going to do now?"
+
+Damaris did not know why she confided in this stranger, but she felt
+she had gone far enough.
+
+Her tone was very dignified as she said—
+
+"I shall manage very well, thank you."
+
+"How can you, if you have no money? Don't be foolish, child. Have you
+no other relations?"
+
+"I could easily earn my livelihood by needlework," said Damaris, gazing
+before her dreamily. "I was told at the Art School in Kensington, where
+I had a few lessons, that they would always take my work. I copy old
+tapestry patterns."
+
+There was a pause. Then the old lady introduced herself.
+
+"I am Mrs. Bonnycott—everybody calls me Kitty Bonnycott. I've lived in
+that old house there all my life. It came to me at my father's death. I
+have three farms and a good bit of land, which my nephew looks after.
+He's like a son to me, and we're very good friends; but I don't tie
+him to my apron strings, and every now and then we want a change from
+each other, and then he goes off to the Hall, they're always glad to
+have him there. Barbara and her brothers and he all grew up together. I
+live my own life. I garden, and look after my dogs and goats, and have
+my finger in most of the village pies. How do you like the Rector's
+wife at Marley? She's county, you know—would marry a parson—told me
+she loved the idea of being a shepherdess! And she's a charming young
+creature. A little too pious for me, but I laugh at her; and she takes
+it in very good part."
+
+"I have not met her yet," replied Damaris, feeling bewildered by the
+old lady's confidential talk; "but I saw her in church to-day and think
+she looks perfectly sweet."
+
+"And how long are you going to stay at Marley?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+Damaris's cheeks flushed in spite of herself.
+
+Mrs. Bonnycott looked at her with a pair of very sharp far-seeing eyes.
+
+"I ought to be in church this afternoon," she said, after a moment's
+pause; "but our vicar annoyed me this morning, so I am punishing him
+by my absence. I'm a most regular church goer as a rule; we have no
+evening service, and the afternoon is a trial in summer! He refused to
+give out a notice I sent to him. It was an invitation to the six old
+almswomen to a strawberry tea. Is it wicked to mention strawberries and
+tea in church? I suddenly thought of it as I was walking to church, and
+I wanted them to come to-morrow. My vicar is a very proper young man;
+he is always afraid of doing something unclerical or unorthodox. I have
+no patience with him."
+
+Damaris could not help smiling. Then she asked the name of the village
+and was told it was Fallerton.
+
+"I am the only resident in it of any account," said Mrs. Bonnycott;
+"but we have plenty of neighbours within driving distance. The Gores
+are nearest to me; they go to your church because they had a quarrel
+with our vicar over some of his vestments. They're starched old maids,
+both of them, but we're very good friends. Their brother would marry
+Barbara Murray to-morrow if she would have him. He worships the ground
+she treads upon; and I think she's a fool, for he's an intelligent
+upright man, whose only fault is that he's too easy-going, and lets his
+sisters rule him. He has the hobby of bee-keeping. His apiary is well
+worth seeing. He's a bit of a naturalist, too; you meet him lying out
+in the woods or on the common watching the habits of some insect or
+bird. But I'm not very fond of men with beards, are you? I always fancy
+they are hiding up a weak mouth or chin."
+
+Damaris laughed, then got up to go, and the old lady insisted upon
+shaking hands with her.
+
+"We shall meet again. When next I am in Marley, I shall come to see
+you. When we don't bake at home, we get our bread from Patch. I'm sure
+you're lodging there, though you didn't tell me so. They are the only
+rooms to let that I know of!"
+
+Damaris parted from her, feeling as if she had made a friend. Mrs.
+Bonnycott was a pretty old lady with a wonderfully clear complexion,
+bright brown eyes, and an upright active little figure. Her eyes
+twinkled as she talked, as if she were always seeing a hidden joke.
+Damaris had a happy feeling as she talked to her, and as she walked
+back over the common, she hoped that she might soon see her again.
+
+As she was nearing Marley, she met Barbara Murray and Mrs. Bonnycott's
+nephew. Barbara had half-a-dozen dogs with her, and Scott was evidently
+one of them, for his master said as they passed her—
+
+"My aunt won't sleep to-night without him. I tell you Scott rules the
+house; but the walk over the common is good for both of us."
+
+The breeze brought Damaris the added words—
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+And Barbara replied indifferently—
+
+"How should I know?"
+
+Damaris returned to her lodgings feeling rather tired and quite ready
+for her tea.
+
+Yet an hour later, she slipped into the little church again for the
+evening service, and enjoyed it.
+
+
+The next afternoon, Mrs. Dashwood, the Rector's wife, called upon her.
+
+Damaris succumbed at once to her charms. She almost felt inclined to
+confide in her, her history, but her natural reticence forbade her.
+
+"I am so glad you came straight to the Patch's. I always think I should
+enjoy living here myself. Doesn't the smell of hot baked bread make you
+feel fed and clothed and housed all at once? It always gives me the
+sense of comfort and home. Now don't be lonely, will you? And if your
+days are long, will you help me at the Rectory? I am always trying to
+catch up the work that is waiting for me even in this small village. Do
+you like being busy? I believe you are a dreamer. But dreamers develop
+into doers. Look at Joseph!"
+
+Damaris's eyes sparkled.
+
+"Yes, I have been a dreamer, and my life for several years has fostered
+it. But I am just waking up now; and oh, Mrs. Dashwood, I want to do
+something!"
+
+Mrs. Dashwood leant forwards with her pretty entrancing smile.
+
+"Then you and I will do together for a little while. We are both
+pilgrims, aren't we, travelling the same road? And just for a little
+time, we will walk side by side."
+
+Then she put her hand on Damaris's arm caressingly.
+
+"Is our goal the same, do you think?"
+
+Damaris looked doubtful.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Have you the driving force necessary for all work? 'Such' a force!
+'The love of Christ constraineth us.'"
+
+Sudden tears filled Damaris's eyes.
+
+"I have often thought about those kind of things, but I have been so
+alone. I have had no one to help me. You remind me of old Mrs. Patch
+and her 'Pilgrim's Progress.'"
+
+Mrs. Dashwood laughed happily.
+
+"Yes, you can't say you have no one to help you, dear, with that old
+saint in the house. I don't quite know why you chanced on our little
+village as a rest cure, but I see now there was no chance in it. You
+were sent here to be helped, and to have your soul rested as well as
+your body. How I do hope and pray you won't miss it. And now I must be
+going. My mothers' meeting begins at half-past three, but I felt I must
+just see you first. Will you come to tea with me to-morrow, and make
+acquaintance with my small son Eddie? You see what a conceited mother I
+am! But he really is nice to know."
+
+She was gone like a flash of light, and Damaris was left with a longing
+to know her better, and with a pleased anticipation of going to tea
+with her the next day.
+
+Mrs. Patch came in after she had gone.
+
+"Our Rector's lady never stays anywhere quite long enough," she said;
+"that's all the fault we finds with her. But her days is near as
+crowded as mine. She flings me a pretty word.
+
+"'Mrs. Patch,' she says, 'I wish I could be your lodger one day; I
+would cast off my housekeeping cares, and have a blissful time. Your
+rooms,' she says, 'have all the true atmosphere of restfulness and
+comfort.'
+
+"Ah, Mrs. Dashwood—she has the observing eye—same as have myself, bein'
+a student of human natur. Did she have a few words with you to the
+improvin' of your soul? I reckon she'll have been finding out if you're
+a worker or not. 'Tis her craze—that of work. She even taxes me with
+it, though she do allow that I've enough to do to keep my household
+goin'."
+
+Damaris listened a little impatiently. She grew rather tired of Mrs.
+Patch's flow of talk, and slipped away from her with the excuse of
+going out for a walk on the common.
+
+
+She went up to the Rectory the next day, and found Mrs. Dashwood, in
+her pretty morning-room, busy cutting out a lot of garments for her
+village working party.
+
+Her little boy was by her side, pretending to help.
+
+Damaris stooped to kiss him. She was rather shy of children, never
+having had much to do with them.
+
+"Do you like kissing me?" Eddie asked, looking up at her with a pair of
+huge blue eyes. "I aren't liking it myself."
+
+Damaris laughed, and Mrs. Dashwood looked up from her work.
+
+"Eddie, remember you are a little gentleman. That is not a polite way
+to speak."
+
+"But gentlemen aren't kissed," said the small boy. "Everybody kisses
+me, but they doesn't kiss Daddy."
+
+"I won't kiss you again," said Damaris—"not unless you want me to."
+
+And then Mrs. Dashwood set her to work; and as they cut out they
+talked, and Damaris found herself giving many confidences about her
+past life.
+
+Eddie retired to a corner of the room to play. His mother said that his
+nurse had gone out for the day, so that she was in charge of him.
+
+Presently a whistle was heard in the garden, and Eddie dashed out of
+the open French window, crying out excitedly—
+
+"It's my Mr. Stuart!"
+
+Mrs. Dashwood gave a little sigh.
+
+"I hoped we should have had a quiet afternoon together, but Stuart
+Maitland is such an old friend that he walks in upon us whenever he
+likes. I knew him before I married. Have you met him? He lives with an
+old aunt just across the common. He looks after her property, but it is
+not enough to occupy a man of his abilities. We call him the Admirable
+Crichton. Here he comes."
+
+"Well, Tina, slaving away as usual? What a woman you are for scissors!
+Now it's garments for the village, isn't it? Last time you were making
+havoc of your rose beds for some wedding."
+
+Mrs. Dashwood laughingly shook hands with him, then introduced him to
+Damaris. He looked at her with a frank smile.
+
+"Our third meeting. Three is my lucky number! I knew I should speak to
+you the next time I saw you."
+
+Damaris smiled back. Her head was high, and her manner dignity itself;
+but there was something in Stuart's voice that always brought smiles to
+those with whom he spoke.
+
+"You saw each other in church, I suppose?" said Mrs. Dashwood, turning
+briskly to her cutting out again.
+
+"Oh, that wasn't a meeting; the first time Miss—Miss Hartbrook—I
+hope I've caught the name—was sitting by the wayside, and Barbara
+and I discussed her hotly for a good ten minutes after we had passed
+her. Then we met her again on Sunday afternoon crossing the common,
+whereupon we discussed her again; and now I shall go back, and most
+likely we will all discuss her for the third time."
+
+"That makes me feel a person of some importance," said Damaris; "but I
+am learning from Mrs. Patch's talk that everybody is of importance in
+the country."
+
+"You're right there. Allow me to relieve you, Tina. Don't dare to say
+I can't wield the scissors as well as yourself. Sit down and rest that
+long back of yours. What is that husband of yours doing? If I had a
+wife and she helped me with my sermons, I would help her with her
+scissors. That's fair play. Miss Hartbrook, when you listen to our
+Rector's sermons, and he startles you with a very straight hit which
+knocks you flat, that is one of his better half's bits of composition."
+
+Stuart was rapidly cutting out children's frocks as he talked.
+
+Damaris gazed at him with amused astonishment.
+
+Mrs. Dashwood had laughingly taken a seat and drawn her little boy
+to her side, but her quick observant eyes were following her new
+assistant's rapid cuts, and twice she corrected him.
+
+"Now," she said, "give me back my scissors. I am rested. Won't you play
+to us?"
+
+"Yes, play, and I'll dance!" cried Eddie.
+
+The next moment, Stuart was at the piano playing the merriest jigs and
+snatches of nursery rhymes. Eddie capered up and down, occasionally
+bursting into songs in which Stuart joined him. He had one of the
+softest and most mellow tenor voices that Damaris had ever heard.
+Suddenly he stopped.
+
+"That's enough for you, old boy. Now I'm going to play to Miss
+Hartbrook. And then it will be your mother's turn. Now, Miss Hartbrook,
+what will you have—grave or gay? I think I know."
+
+He began to improvise. Damaris listened, entranced, for she knew at
+once he was a real musician. And from a very sweet and plaintive little
+melody, he turned to some Norwegian Folk Lore airs, and then finished
+with a very inspiriting Polish March.
+
+"To cheer you up!" he remarked, twisting round on the music stool.
+
+"Thank you very much," said Damaris.
+
+He turned back to the piano, and began playing "O Rest in the Lord,"
+"Comfort ye My People," and "He shall Feed His Flock" followed. And
+when he stopped playing, there was a grave stillness in the room.
+
+He stood up and drew a deep breath.
+
+"Music is meant to portray religion, isn't it?" he said.
+
+"What a dangerous gift it is," Mrs. Dashwood said thoughtfully. "It
+appeals to the best and worst inside us."
+
+"Will you have me to tea?" Stuart asked, as he took an easy chair and
+hoisted Eddie upon his knee. "Barbara has taken it into her head to pay
+calls this afternoon, knowing that I won't accompany her. And Sir Mark
+has shut himself into the library with some business papers, and told
+me he didn't want to be disturbed."
+
+"Of course, we will give you tea. How long are you staying at the Hall?"
+
+"Only till to-morrow. I know you feel I've been idling here too long,
+but I've been making sketches and plans for some model cottages Sir
+Mark wants to build."
+
+"Anything else?"
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Oh, a few. Don't make me blow my own trumpet before Miss Hartbrook,
+but you know I'm a handy man, and I find jobs everywhere. That reminds
+me—I've promised the rector to get rid of those crows' nests in the
+belfry. I'll go now. Would Eddie like to come with me?"
+
+"Oh, mummy, let me!"
+
+Mrs. Dashwood looked dubious.
+
+"He'll be breaking his neck."
+
+"Will Miss Hartbrook come and look after him? I'm sure you've done
+enough cutting out!"
+
+Damaris was not very keen on going, but Mrs. Dashwood seemed as if she
+would like her to do so.
+
+"You will hear the tea-bell. I'll have it rung outside the house, and
+when it rings, bring Eddie in, will you?"
+
+As Damaris walked through the garden, Stuart talked to her as if he
+had known her all her life. He interested her at once; there seemed no
+subject on which he could not talk. And though his tone was gay, he
+could drop suddenly into the gravest vein.
+
+"Of course, you've lost your heart to Tina. I tell Barbara she's lucky
+to have her near her. But women are a mystery to man in their dealings
+with one another. Barbara keeps her at arm's length. I think she is
+afraid that Tina will tackle her on religious subjects. She's tackled
+me, and she'll do the same to you before you've been in her company
+very long. But if you know a good thing, why shouldn't you try to pass
+it on? And I bless the day when I was enlightened and set going by her.
+Now, young man, what is it?" He turned to Eddie.
+
+"I want to ring the bells. Will you take me?"
+
+"Not if I know it! But we shall climb the tower, and you shall show
+Miss Hartbrook the hill where the rainbows end."
+
+"I believe I met a relation of yours on Sunday," said Damaris suddenly.
+
+"Did you? It was my aunt. A dear old talkative soul. Was she on the
+common?"
+
+Damaris gave an account of her meeting.
+
+Stuart's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Did she tell you of our difference of opinion? I wanted a certain man
+dismissed—a farm-hand who is an idle loafer. She wants him kept. So I
+said I would go away for a few days and let her see for herself how he
+worked. I received a repentant note this morning, so I'm going back to
+her to-morrow."
+
+"How nice to be able to run away when things go wrong!" said Damaris.
+
+"That's a nasty one for me!" laughed Stuart. "Have you never run away
+from anything?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Damaris hastily; "I'm doing it now." Then the swift
+colour came to her cheeks. "I am my own mistress," she added. "I
+sometimes wish I were not."
+
+"Ah," he said, "independence has its drawbacks. Now, it's a queer
+thing, but, from the look of your carriage and walk, I said to Barbara,
+'That girl is on her own—no doubt of it.' And I was right."
+
+"Do you think me an adventuress?" said Damaris, with a little smile. "I
+am out on an adventure."
+
+"Shake hands," said Stuart, holding out his hand to her. "I'm an
+adventurer born. That's why I'm a Jack of many trades and master of
+none. I'm always seeing things on in front that beckon to me, and I
+invariably plunge after them. But I'm sticking to my aunt now. I've
+been all over the world."
+
+"Oh," said Damaris, with a long-drawn sigh; "I wish I had—I do adore
+seeing new strange places."
+
+They reached the place, and climbed up into the belfry; then Damaris
+took Eddie up to the top of the tower out of danger's way. He had been
+there before, and was very proud of pointing out to her different
+landmarks.
+
+The tea-bell rang too soon; but on their way down they met Stuart, who
+showed them four huge nests he had rescued from some beams in the roof.
+
+"They're big enough for you to sit in, Eddie," he said.
+
+"Oh, no, fanks; I don't want to sit on eggs!" he promptly replied.
+
+And then they all went into the Rectory to tea.
+
+Stuart went with the Rector afterwards.
+
+"My husband wants to show him some old papers he has unearthed from
+the vestry," Mrs. Dashwood said to Damaris. "Stuart Maitland is one of
+the most gifted men I know. He says he happens to have clever hands,
+but it is his brain which directs them. You heard him play. He paints
+exquisite water-colour sketches, and has written two books. He is a
+very good architect, and is a member of the British Archaeological
+Society. I don't think there is anything that he can't do. I always
+say, when I have him in the house, that I have a plumber, carpenter,
+glazier, and general repairer. He ought to be a poor man."
+
+"And has he no profession?" asked Damaris.
+
+"I am sorry to say he has not. He was left an orphan when he was quite
+small, and came into a good bit of money when he was of age."
+
+Then Mrs. Dashwood began to talk to Damaris of the village, trying to
+interest her in the people. When she got up to go, she said—
+
+"You will let me see more of you, won't you, dear? I want to know you
+better. And we have had an interrupted afternoon."
+
+"I shall love to come and see you at any time," said Damaris warmly.
+
+And as she walked home, she determined she would pursue the
+acquaintance. Yet somehow or other Stuart Maitland obtruded himself,
+and overshadowed gentle Mrs. Dashwood in her thoughts.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+A SUDDEN DEPARTURE
+
+"MRS. BONNYCOTT to see you, miss."
+
+Damaris was sitting writing in her little sitting-room one afternoon,
+when Mrs. Patch opened the door to announce the visitor.
+
+Damaris had been trying to concoct for about the twentieth time, a
+letter to her grandfather announcing her existence. But nothing that
+she wrote satisfied her.
+
+"If I could only see him! And if my aunt were more approachable! I
+wonder if I had better confide in Mrs. Dashwood. I don't know why I
+feel so shy about mentioning the subject. I know they are all curious
+about me, though they are too well-bred to say so. I don't know why I
+should appear such a mystery. In these days, girls live alone, and earn
+their own living."
+
+She was glad to be able to change her thoughts.
+
+Mrs. Bonnycott was breathless with her climb up the steep stairs.
+
+"I told you I should come and see you, didn't I," she said, taking the
+easy chair Damaris pulled forward, and looking round her with her keen
+bright eyes. "You have a very snug little room here. What a pretty
+group of wild roses. I've just come from the Hall—been lunching with
+Barbara. You don't know each other yet? Barbara is a queer girl—she has
+too many men friends to be interested in her own sex. You have met my
+nephew, I hear. What do you think of him? Don't fall in love with him,
+will you? For I warn you he is not susceptible to women's charms—likes
+to chum up with them, but no more. He was engaged once, and says, never
+again; but he was young and she was young, and they were both too
+self-willed. She broke it off, and married somebody else two months
+after. But Stuart thinks that every other girl would be like her. Now
+tell me what you have been doing with yourself. I have interrupted you
+in writing, I see. So glad you have some friends to whom you can write.
+I was afraid you were a forlorn young creature with no friends at all.
+Mrs. Patch tells me you had an aunt who lived in these parts once."
+
+"I don't think I told her so," said Damaris a little stiffly. "I said I
+had seen 'Marley Common' mentioned in an aunt's letter, and that made
+me come."
+
+Mrs. Bonnycott gave a funny little chuckle.
+
+"We're all very interested, not to say inquisitive, in these parts when
+a lodger comes to settle amongst us."
+
+"I have only one friend in the world," said Damaris slowly and
+thoughtfully, "and that is an old servant who has known me from my
+babyhood."
+
+"What a treasure. Is she in service still? If not I wish you would give
+me her address. I want a good maid—housemaid. Would she suit me?"
+
+"She might," said Damaris, smiling, "but she is still in London in my
+old home—and will no doubt stay there."
+
+"Is that where the nephew lived who ousted you? Have you made any plans
+for the future? I'm interested in you. Do you know you are too dainty a
+creature to be wandering over the world alone?"
+
+"Oh, I have my plans," cried Damaris desperately, "but I can't talk
+about them."
+
+"That's a pity," observed the old lady in a disappointed tone. "Young
+people always think life is easy to manage, and they won't confide in
+their elders, and troubles follow. But if you do get into trouble,
+write to me. You know my address. 'The Manor House, Fallerton.'"
+
+"You are very kind," said Damaris, gratefully. "I don't find my life
+easy to manage at all. I have a very difficult task in front of me, and
+I am so cowardly that I feel, though I have begun to grapple with it,
+that I shall not be able to carry it through."
+
+"And you've come down here to think things out quietly?"
+
+"Yes—partly."
+
+"Well—well—if you won't confide in me, you won't. But I still want you
+to come over and spend a day with me. Come next Saturday, will you? If
+you enjoy the walk, come over to lunch, and I will show you my garden
+and my pet goats. I keep eight of them."
+
+"Thank you very much. I shall be very glad to come."
+
+Mrs. Bonnycott did not stay very long, and though Damaris was
+entertained by her bright talk, she was relieved than otherwise when
+the visit came to an end.
+
+"I can't go on like this," she said to herself. "I must do something
+definitely—I never imagined that everyone in the country would be so
+curious about strangers. I am sure Mrs. Bonnycott will get it all out
+of me when I go to lunch with her. And yet I do like her. And it is
+such a change to know some women of the right sort. I have seen so few
+of them in my life."
+
+
+Two days afterwards, Damaris got her chance of doing "something
+definitely."
+
+She was sitting with old Mrs. Patch, and hearing of the old times at
+the Hall, when suddenly the door opened and Barbara appeared.
+
+She looked rather taken aback at seeing Damaris there.
+
+"Well, Nanny, how are you? It's an age since I've been in, isn't it?
+I've brought you some of our early peaches."
+
+"This is Miss Hartbrook, Miss Barbara, dear—she lodges with us, and is
+very kind in coming and sitting with me."
+
+Barbara inclined her head a little stiffly, and Damaris at once made a
+move.
+
+"Good-bye, Mrs. Patch, for the present," she said, and then she slipped
+away, going back to her own rooms.
+
+But inside, she stood still—a sudden impulse seizing her.
+
+"Now is my opportunity. She will pass my door going downstairs. I will
+call her in and tell her. I will—I must have the courage to do it. It
+is so much easier seeing her here than going to the Hall."
+
+Now that the time had come, Damaris found her limbs trembling beneath
+her. She feverishly unlocked her small dressing-case, and produced
+her mother's letters. Then she tidied her sitting-room, placing her
+best easy chair in the window, and arranging one for herself in the
+background. She found herself preparing nervously her important
+announcement.
+
+"How shall I begin? In books they generally rush into the arms of their
+long-lost relations; but I can't fancy myself doing that with Aunt
+Barbara! She's a man's woman they say, and hard of heart—perhaps I am
+making a mistake. My grandfather might receive me more warmly. Had I
+better wait and speak to him? Oh, how long she is! I wish she would
+come out. I hate the suspense of it!"
+
+She paced the room, trying to control her agitation.
+
+"What shall I say? I feel I shall stammer and break down. Perhaps
+she will refuse to come in. I wish she would, then I shall go to my
+grandfather."
+
+Time went on. She heard the murmur of voices along the passage, and
+once Barbara's rather deep laugh rang out. Damaris was devoutly
+thankful that the landlady had gone to the neighbouring town that day
+to market, for otherwise she would run the risk of her mounting the
+stairs to enjoy the visitor's conversation. At last, the bed-room door
+opened and Barbara came out.
+
+"Good-bye, Nanny. Take care of yourself."
+
+Damaris opened her door.
+
+As Barbara strode along the passage, she was pulled up by a very quiet
+voice.
+
+"May I speak to you, Miss Murray, for a few minutes?"
+
+They faced each other. Barbara's eyes were opened wide, her
+astonishment was plain to be seen.
+
+Damaris stood with her proud little head in the air, she was white from
+emotion even to her lips, but her voice was well under control. There
+was not a quiver in it. Her request was almost like a command.
+
+Without a word, Barbara came in. She had to stoop her tall head to get
+in at the door.
+
+Damaris pulled forward the easy chair, and then seated herself. There
+was a moment's silence between them. Barbara evidently did not intend
+to speak first.
+
+"I have wanted to speak to you for some time. It seems my opportunity.
+I have something to tell you."
+
+Still silence. Then Damaris took her mother's letters in her hand, and
+handed them to Barbara.
+
+"Do you know these letters? Will you read them? They were written by
+you many years ago."
+
+Barbara frowned heavily as she opened the letters. Damaris watched
+her breathlessly, but she saw no sign of feeling in the handsome
+fresh-coloured face bending over them.
+
+One by one they were opened and read. Then at last Barbara looked up.
+
+"Where did you get these? How do they come into your possession?"
+
+"They are my mother's letters. I am her daughter."
+
+Barbara stared at her uncomprehendingly. "My sister had no children."
+
+"Were you never told that she had? Surely my mother wrote to you
+before—before her death?"
+
+"Will you kindly give me your account of it."
+
+Something steely and fierce flashed out of Barbara's blue eyes.
+
+Damaris faltered—she began to get a little incoherent.
+
+"I can't give you the account of my birth. But it was in Florence, and
+after my mother's death, my father brought me to his uncle's house in
+London, which has been my home ever since. I—he never told me—I never
+knew—until I found these—I wonder you never asked about me—but of
+course I was provided for—and I took everything as my right—but when I
+found myself penniless, I began to wonder if I had no other relations,
+and then I found these. My father died many years ago."
+
+Still Barbara did not speak, she sat gazing out of the window like one
+in a dream.
+
+Then suddenly she turned her face towards Damaris.
+
+"What other proof can you show me that you are my sister's daughter?
+Have you your birth certificate?"
+
+"No," said Damaris, hesitating; "no, I do not know where that would be.
+It may be in Florence. I have not seen it amongst my father's papers.
+My uncles may have destroyed it."
+
+Barbara smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile.
+
+"We have only your word to go upon. We must have more than that."
+
+The colour rushed into Damaris's cheeks.
+
+"Do you not believe me? Do you think I am telling lies? Don't I know my
+own mother's name, and all the circumstances connected with her life in
+Florence."
+
+Barbara smiled again.
+
+"My dear Miss Hartbrook—if this is your name—it is curious I should
+not have recognised it before, but I had almost forgotten my
+brother-in-law's existence, and the name is an ordinary one; but if
+it is, I cannot forget that you have been in the habit of talking a
+great deal with our old nurse, from whom you would have got all our
+family history. She doubtless mentioned to you, as she did to me, a
+certain resemblance in you to my sister—there is nothing to prevent
+you building upon this and using it for your own ends. I don't say you
+have; but legally you must give us other proof. These letters were
+written by me, but they may have passed through many hands; and how are
+we to know that you are the rightful possessor of them?"
+
+Damaris was silent. Never had such a possibility presented itself to
+her! Not to be believed was a fact that she had never contemplated.
+Such a rush of hot indignation and wounded pride seized hold of her
+that she could not trust herself to speak.
+
+At last, she moved across the room and held open her door.
+
+"I am sorry I have told you," she said. "If my relations do not wish to
+own me, there is nothing more to be said."
+
+Barbara took her dismissal very calmly.
+
+"I will keep these letters," she said, moving across to the door, "as
+they are my property. And I will talk it over with my father, and you
+will hear from us again. It is strange that you should have taken so
+long a time to make yourself known to us. If your purpose in coming
+here was to show us these letters, why did you not do it at once? It
+looks as if you were taking time to find out all you could."
+
+Damaris said nothing. Her eyes flashed indignantly, and she closed the
+door upon her visitor with bitter disappointment and anger in her heart.
+
+"They won't believe me! They don't want to believe me. Instead of being
+glad, she hated the very idea of my existence. Never, never, shall I be
+dependent on them! Never shall I enter their house! I wish I had never
+come here! I wish I had never spoken to her! I shall go straight back
+to London and get work. And I shall never think of them again. I have
+lived without them all these years. I can live without them still. I
+shall go back to London and write to Stevens and get her to come and
+see me, and tell her all about it."
+
+In a tempest of fury, Damaris paced her room, then seized hold of her
+suit-case, and began flinging her clothes into it. She knew there was
+no train to town that day which she could conveniently catch, but she
+felt she must do something towards preparing for her departure. Then
+she put on her hat and slipped quietly out of the house. Making her
+way to the station, she found out the first morning train to town, and
+arranged with the friendly porter to call for her luggage on his way to
+the station the next morning.
+
+
+When she returned to her lodgings, she found her landlady still away.
+So she went in to see old Mrs. Patch, and told her she must go back to
+London.
+
+"It is very sudden and unexpected, but I must go," she said. "I sha'n't
+forget you, Mrs. Patch, and our quiet talks. You have done me a lot of
+good."
+
+"But, dear miss, have you spoken to Polly? She'll be in a sore way at
+losing you so suddenly."
+
+"I'll pay her an extra week. I only took my rooms by the week. I always
+knew my time here would be uncertain."
+
+"I shall miss you sorely. You seem so young and lonely. I wish you had
+the Lord as your Guide."
+
+"How do you know I have not?"
+
+"I don't think you've got rid of your burden yet. You don't even feel
+the weight of it, do you?"
+
+Damaris looked at her.
+
+"I'm afraid I don't. But is it necessary? Can't I be good without
+feeling I'm a very wicked sinner?"
+
+Old Mrs. Patch laid her hand tenderly upon her arm.
+
+"You will never love until you know what you've been saved from,
+dearie. We are told in the Book that it is those who have been forgiven
+most that love most. And it seems to me there be few people nowadays
+who feel the horror of sin."
+
+Damaris was silent. She looked wistfully at the old woman.
+
+"I will think about it, Mrs. Patch. I promise you I will. It is so
+good of you to care about me at all. I feel as if I'm leaving my best
+friends here."
+
+"And must you go?"
+
+"I must."
+
+When Mrs. Patch, junior, returned from her marketing, she was very
+perturbed at the thought of losing her lodger.
+
+"We were just becoming acquainted, and you'd settled down comfortable.
+Why so sudden, miss?"
+
+"I can hardly tell you why," said Damaris a little coldly.
+
+She felt thankful that nobody knew of the interview she had had with
+Barbara.
+
+
+She left very early the next morning, and she wrote a little note to
+Mrs. Dashwood which she meant to post on her way to town. It ran as
+follows—
+
+   "DEAR MRS. DASHWOOD,—Forgive me for not coming to wish you good-bye.
+I am leaving suddenly—as suddenly as I came. I do thank you for all your
+kindness. I should like to think that one day I may meet you again. I
+hardly know what is going to happen to me. But I have nothing to fear.
+
+                                 "Yours lovingly,
+
+                                                "DAMARIS."
+
+When she reached the station, Stuart Maitland was just leaving it. He
+was on horseback.
+
+"Whither away?" he asked her cheerily.
+
+"On adventure bound," she said, trying to speak lightly.
+
+"I believe you're running away again," he said, looking down upon her
+with a quizzical glance in his eyes.
+
+She nodded, then held out her note to him.
+
+"Will you do me the favour of taking this to the Rectory? You will be
+passing it, won't you? I did not know you were out so early."
+
+"Farmers are up at five o'clock, and it is just on half-past eight. Of
+course, I'll take your note. I think it's very shabby of you to treat
+us like this. Aren't you booked for my aunt for to-morrow?"
+
+"I—I quite forgot. I'll write to her from town. Will you make my
+excuses? I did not think I should have to leave so soon, but I must."
+
+"If you were my sister," said Stuart, looking at her gravely, "I should
+take you by your shoulders and march you back to your lodgings again.
+What has happened? Treat me as a brother—a chum."
+
+Sudden tears came into her eyes.
+
+"I can't—I wish I had never set eyes on Marley. I wish I had never
+known any of you!"
+
+There was passionate resentment in her tone, and she passed swiftly on
+to the ticket-office.
+
+In another five minutes, she was in the train, speeding away towards
+London.
+
+Stuart rode thoughtfully on. He gave in the note at the Rectory, had
+a glorious gallop across the common, and reached home in time for
+breakfast.
+
+When he gave his aunt Damaris's message, she became quite excited.
+
+"What has happened to the child? I was looking forward to having her
+here. And she had no intention of leaving us for a long time. She is
+alone in the world—she told me so—and means to earn her own living.
+She's the last girl in the world to fend for herself in London. She's
+such a dainty, high-bred little creature! Did she seem down in spirits?"
+
+"Angry—a regular little spit-fire," said Stuart, devouring his plate
+of kidneys and bacon with a healthy appetite. Then he brought down
+his fist on the table heavily. "By-the-way, I wonder if Barbara is in
+the business? Somebody has angered her. And Barbara went to see the
+old nurse yesterday. I wanted her to call on the child, but she was
+strangely averse to doing so. She said she would like to find out about
+her first. The young lady is very mysterious."
+
+"Not to me," said Mrs. Bonnycott. "As straight and simple as she can
+be, though she wouldn't tell me her plans. But I begged her to write to
+me if she were in trouble at any time, and I believe she will."
+
+Stuart went about his daily work with a strange oppression of mind. He
+laughed at himself for it.
+
+"It's too ridiculous to trouble over a passing visitor as I am doing.
+But I'm honestly disappointed. She was worth knowing, and I meant to
+know her well."
+
+He was in the hayfields most of that day, working as hard as any
+farm-hand. He did not come into the house till nine o'clock, and then
+was handed a note which had come from the Hall for him. It was from
+Barbara—
+
+   "Do, like a good boy, come over as soon as you can. I badly want
+advice.
+
+                      "Yours,
+
+                              "BARBARA."
+
+His aunt refused to let him go to the Hall that evening.
+
+"I have put off my dinner to have a late supper with you. Miss Barbara
+must wait. It will do her no harm. You are not her lover, are you?"
+
+"Goodness—no!" said Stuart, with an astonished laugh. "What a woman you
+are!"
+
+"I never try to be anything but a woman," retorted his aunt sharply.
+"Barbara has no right to expect you to be at her beck and call at all
+hours of the day. The groom is going over to Marley to-night. He's
+calling at the mill about some oats for the stables. Write a note, and
+he will take it. Say, that when the hay is saved, you can give her your
+attention."
+
+Stuart smiled to himself. His note was as short as Barbara's.
+
+   "Expect me to breakfast. I can only give you an hour.
+
+                                    "STUART."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+A CONSULTATION
+
+"NOW then, pump it out. What's up?"
+
+Barbara and Stuart were in the big dining-room at breakfast. Sir Mark
+was not down. He often had his breakfast in his room, and this was
+one of the occasions when he did so. It was an ideal summer morning.
+The big French windows were opened wide. There was a sweet smell of
+freshly-mown grass coming into the room from outside. The gardener was
+busy on the big lawn with the mowing-machine. Great shrubs of glowing
+flame-coloured azaleas bordered the lawn. The breakfast table, with
+its choice china and silver and bowls of roses, appealed to Stuart's
+artistic taste. And, looking across at Barbara in her cool white linen
+gown, with her beautiful golden head, and her fresh frank face, he
+acknowledged that she suited her surroundings.
+
+But he saw, from a bewildered look in her eyes and a restless movement
+of her graceful hands, that Barbara was in trouble.
+
+She was toying with a scone and honey upon her plate—in reality eating
+nothing, only making a brave pretence of doing so.
+
+"You're a dear to have come over. I feel I 'must' take counsel with
+somebody, and there's nobody like you for good sound sense when there's
+real need for it. I never slept a wink last night; and father is
+furious with me."
+
+"That I can hardly believe. Sir Mark furious? I never thought he had a
+spark of temper in him."
+
+"You would have been undeceived if you had heard him last night. And
+you will never guess the cause of it. That pretty little girl who is
+lodging here."
+
+"Ah!" said Stuart, putting down his cup of coffee which was on the way
+to his mouth. "I thought as much. Then you sent her away."
+
+"How did you guess? But I didn't. I hadn't the remotest intention
+of doing so. I never was so astonished in my life as when I went
+round yesterday afternoon and found her flown. Mrs. Patch could not
+understand it. At first, I thought it proved that my suspicions were
+right—that she had failed in her little plot, and had fled because she
+saw that we were not easily taken in—but now, I don't know."
+
+"Have the goodness to explain yourself for I'm in the dark."
+
+"I'll tell you all. Do you remember my sister Lilian?"
+
+"The one that married some artist fellow and died out in Italy?"
+
+"Yes; she was only married a year. Well, this girl says she is her
+daughter!"
+
+Stuart stared at her.
+
+"What? This is interesting! That accounts for her appearance."
+
+"Oh, I see you're ready to believe in her at once! When she first
+sprang it upon me—the day before yesterday—I was so dazed and
+bewildered that I could hardly take it in. I was at school, remember,
+when Lilian died. It was my first term, and my stepmother simply
+wrote and told me the bald fact. I was never told she died at the
+birth of her child. I never knew she had one. This girl produced some
+old letters of mine written to Lilian soon after she married. And
+in my cautious way, I asked for more proofs of her relationship to
+us. Anybody can get hold of old letters. I did not doubt her being a
+Hartbrook, but I thought she might be some other member of the family
+who was using the letters for her own ends. She naïvely told me that
+she began to hunt round for some relations when she found herself
+penniless. That looked fishy. And I asked her why she had kept quiet
+so long. She has been here nearly a month, and is lodging in the house
+with old Nanny. She could not have done better if she had wished to spy
+out the land and discover all our family history. Nanny had told her
+she was very like Lilian in appearance."
+
+Stuart made an impatient movement.
+
+"Be patient; I want you to see things from my side. I told her I would
+show the letters to my father, and that she would hear again from us on
+the matter. She dismissed me like a little tragedy queen. You should
+have seen her eyes flash. She was simply furious with me, and said if
+we did not wish to own her, there was nothing more to be said. Now do
+you think me much to blame?"
+
+"You are rather a sledgehammer sometimes," said Stuart, pushing his
+chair back from the table and walking restlessly up and down the room.
+"You might have let her down a little more gently. But you never liked
+her being here, did you? You took some unaccountable prejudice to her
+ever since we saw her sitting in the hedge."
+
+"Perhaps it was the contradiction in my nature," said Barbara, with an
+honest smile. "You gushed over her so!"
+
+"A man doesn't gush!" said Stuart sharply. "But I do recognise beauty
+when I see it, also good breeding. I'd bet a hundred pounds that girl
+is no common adventuress!"
+
+"Well, now keep calm. I don't want you to get angry, because I want
+your help. Come back and finish your breakfast, and I'll tell you more."
+
+Stuart subsided into his chair again.
+
+"I came back and took the letters straight to father, who became most
+excited. I always feel that he still has a very soft place in his heart
+for Lilian. My stepmother had an iron will, and he was completely
+subjugated by her. I asked him if he had ever heard that Lilian had
+had a child, for it was news to me. He said he knew that she died at a
+child's birth, but had quite understood that the child had died too. I
+asked him if he had any letters about it. He said no, the husband had
+written to my stepmother, and he thought the letter had been destroyed.
+
+"Then I asked him if he had kept any of my stepmother's papers or
+letters. He said he had kept a small private desk of hers. He had
+locked it up in one of his drawers after her death, and had never
+touched them. So I asked him if he would mind looking through them. He
+did it at once; and I helped him.
+
+"For a long time we found nothing to throw any light upon it, and then
+we came across two letters—one from Hubert Hartbrook to my stepmother,
+and one from dear Lilian to me and which had been purposely kept from
+me; I don't know why my stepmother did not destroy them. I suppose we
+must forgive the dead. I dare say she was afraid of upsetting me when
+I was at school. How she hated Lilian! I suppose because Lilian never
+would make herself civil to her.
+
+"The only thing, Stuart, that makes me believe in this girl was the
+look in her eyes, and the set of her head when she opened the door and
+dismissed me. It took me straight back to Lilian, who used to sweep
+from the room after some of her rows, and regard the stepmother as if
+she were the dirt under her feet. If this girl is her daughter, she
+has not my phlegmatic soul, but the same hot pride and temper as poor
+Lilian had."
+
+"Go on," said Stuart; "what did the letters say?"
+
+Barbara took a small letter case out of her pocket, and put the two
+letters into his hand.
+
+"Read them. They are very characteristic of the writer."
+
+Stuart read as follows—
+
+   "DEAR LADY MURRAY,—I write to you, as we fancy all letters are opened
+by you. Will you let Sir Mark know that my dear wife died yesterday.
+She has not been at all strong, and the worry of having all her letters
+returned by you no doubt told upon her. She lived to see her little
+daughter, but sank from exhaustion twelve hours afterwards. I shall
+take the child to England with me. If her grandfather ever wants to see
+her, he can write to me. But this will be my last letter to Marley.
+
+                          "Yours,
+
+                            "H. HARTBROOK."
+
+"That fellow had some grit in him," said Stuart thoughtfully, as he
+folded the letter and handed it back. "I suppose Lady Murray never
+showed this to your father?"
+
+"No; she carried her spite beyond poor Lilian's death. My father had
+never been given any of Lilian's letters. My stepmother kept the key of
+the post-bag and doled out all the letters herself. Now read this one
+from Lilian to me. It is almost sacred, and yet you are such a friend
+that I want you to see it."
+
+   "MY DEAREST BARBARA,—I must just write you a line, for I feel weak and
+unready for the strenuous time in front of me. If my darling little
+one lives and is motherless, I hope that when you grow up, you may see
+it and love it for my sake. I hope it will be a girl, for she would
+comfort my poor Hubert. I am sure I shall not come through. My heart
+is with you and with father. I wish I had not married as I did, but I
+felt that we would never be allowed to do so at all if we waited for
+father's consent. Lady Murray must have made him write as bitterly as
+he did when I announced our engagement. And Hubert has made me happy,
+and we have had a lovely year together.
+
+                "Your loving sister,
+
+                                "LILIAN."
+
+Stuart handed this back to her without a word.
+
+"Well, you have read them, and you can imagine how father and I felt.
+He was most eager to see the girl, and told me it would be quite easy
+to write to the English chaplain in Florence and get him to make
+inquiries about the birth of the child and its baptism. Of course, I
+told him that if the father took the child straight back to England, he
+most likely would not have had it baptised in Florence. Anyhow, after
+breakfast yesterday morning, I went down to the Patches, and actually
+found the girl had decamped and had left no address.
+
+"Father was dreadfully put out when he knew. She might have waited as I
+asked her to."
+
+"I met her at the station."
+
+"Oh, Stuart, what did she say?"
+
+"She said she was 'on adventure bound,' that she wished she had never
+come to Marley, or seen any of us."
+
+"That doesn't sound well. She may be an imposter."
+
+"No, she is genuine," said Stuart gravely. "And if you were more
+observant, and not quite so self-absorbed, you would know it."
+
+"Oh, Stuart, do I deserve that?"
+
+"Yes, I think you do. You have trampled on her pretty heavily. Suppose
+that she is your niece, and, through adverse circumstances, nearly
+penniless, you have sent her back to London to sink or swim, and ten
+chances to one, she'll sink."
+
+"But she has her father's relations. She has no appearance of poverty.
+That girl has been brought up and educated in the most comfortable
+circumstances. Unobservant as I am, I could see that."
+
+"She told my mother that her father is dead, and also her uncles
+who have brought her up. She means to earn her living in London by
+needlework. A risky proceeding, I should say."
+
+"What are we to do?" Barbara asked rather helplessly.
+
+"Get Walter to look up the quarters of these defunct uncles; there may
+be someone there who will still be in touch with her. If we weren't in
+the middle of the hay, I would go to town for you. Why don't you go
+yourself?"
+
+"What good should I do? It is like looking for a needle in a haystack."
+
+"Do you want to find her?"
+
+"Of course I do! Don't think me my stepmother over again. After
+Lilian's letter to me, I feel bound to discover her child, if it is
+alive. I'll write to Walter by the next post. Father has already
+written to Florence. There are many points in her favour. Do you know
+what her Christian name is? Damaris; Mrs. Patch has told me that.
+Lilian had a beloved school friend called Damaris Trenchard. She may
+have told her husband to call the baby that. It's a queer coincidence,
+anyhow, for it is not a common name."
+
+"I haven't a shadow of doubt as to her identity. Haven't you a portrait
+of your sister in the house?"
+
+"Yes, upstairs. That was my stepmother's doing. She banished it to our
+old schoolroom. Come and see it."
+
+They left the dining-room and walked up the broad oaken stairs and
+along a gallery till they came to a baize door which led to the old
+nurseries and schoolroom. Here, in a shabby, empty room, they saw
+Lilian's portrait facing them as they came in.
+
+It was a full-length portrait of her dressed in her riding-habit
+leaning against one of the pillars of the front porch of the house; two
+greyhounds were nestling against her. She held her head proudly, and
+there was a defiant rather scornful curve in her beautiful mouth. It
+was the picture of a girl in all the splendid indifference and glory of
+her youth, and it was Damaris to the life, only a little more hard and
+bitter than the Damaris of Stuart's acquaintance.
+
+Stuart gazed at the portrait earnestly.
+
+"The same wonderful starry grey eyes with the long curled lashes," he
+said. "Why, Barbara, if you knew this picture well, how could you fail
+to recognise the likeness?"
+
+"I don't know the picture well," said Barbara, looking up at it with
+a wistful expression. "I haven't been in this room for years. I had
+only my memory to guide me. And I did recognise a resemblance when she
+bowed me out so haughtily. But all the same, we must have more legal
+proofs than we possess at present that she is really our relative. And
+meanwhile, the difficulty of her whereabouts is not solved."
+
+"And she may be starving in London," said Stuart.
+
+"Don't rub it in. We must find her, even if we employ Scotland Yard."
+
+"We can hunt up her old uncles' will and see who proved it. This
+nephew, I suppose, who disinherited the girl. He must know where she
+is, or the lawyer. She must have a little money, and most likely draw
+it through him. You write to Walter, for no time should be lost; and
+then, if she's not found by the time the hay is done, I'll go up to
+town and hunt for her myself."
+
+With this promise Barbara was fain to be content.
+
+Her brother Walter was written to; he wrote back in a fortnight's time
+to say that the house had been sold, and young Hartbrook had gone
+abroad.
+
+The family lawyer had informed him that Damaris had simply disappeared
+one day, leaving word behind that she was very content with the plans
+she had made for herself, and preferred to give no address. He added
+that she had taken a certain sum of ready money with her, but otherwise
+was penniless, and had not given her cousin the chance of providing for
+her. With regard to her identity, the lawyer knew that Hubert Hartbrook
+had arrived with her as a small baby many years ago, and his uncles had
+taken him in, and given their great-niece a home from that day.
+
+When Sir Mark heard this, he became more anxious than ever to find her.
+
+"To think that she came down to make herself known to us, and then,
+directly that was done, she should run away and leave no traces behind
+her! I wish she had come to me, poor little soul. You deal so harshly
+with people, Barbara—you frightened her away. I suppose she thought we
+would not own her!"
+
+"Yes, I was harsh," said Barbara honestly. "I am sorry for what I said
+now: but we will find her, father, and if she proves to be Lilian's
+child, you may be sure that I will welcome her. I don't know how it is,
+but I never take to young girls, and I did not take to her. I thought
+she was an imposter."
+
+"You always believe the worst of people," said her father gravely;
+"it's a bad fault for a woman, Barbara."
+
+"Now, father, you have scolded me enough; I am angry with myself. But
+I'll do my best to trace her. It was temper that took her off—unless
+she really went to find the proofs we ought to have. She may have done
+that. If so, we will hear from her again. And I think we had better
+keep this matter to ourselves. I don't want the whole village to get
+hold of it. I know Stuart does not intend to tell his aunt, because she
+is such a chatterbox."
+
+"I met Mrs. Dashwood," Sir Mark said, "when I was out this morning, and
+I told her all about it; only I asked her not to let it go any farther."
+
+Barbara smiled.
+
+"I believe Mrs. Dashwood is like a Father Confessor to you! But she's
+safe enough. As she knows, I think I'll go and see her this afternoon.
+I believe she heard from her."
+
+Barbara found Mrs. Dashwood in.
+
+"I'm not a very frequent visitor to the Rectory, am I?" she said,
+when Mrs. Dashwood had expressed her pleasure at seeing her. "But
+my self-confidence has received a shake, and as father has told you
+everything, I thought I would like to know what you think about it."
+
+"I am so glad you have come to me. I am longing to hear more details.
+And I am troubled about her disappearance, as I don't believe she had
+anywhere to go to."
+
+"But she can't be quite friendless."
+
+"She told me she had led a very secluded life with her two old uncles.
+They would not allow her to make friends—the old are very selfish
+sometimes—and she had very little knowledge of the world. I don't think
+I shall be betraying her confidence when I tell you that she left her
+old home because it had become the property of her cousin, and she
+would be beholden to him for nothing."
+
+"But that was foolish and proud."
+
+"I gathered that there had been an engagement between them, and that
+neither of them were happy together, so she thought the best thing was
+to break it off and come away. All the money and property was left to
+him. She was in an awkward position."
+
+"I wonder," said Barbara, musingly, "if she is really Lilian's
+daughter?"
+
+"You have reason to be proud of her if she is. I wish you had known her
+as I did. You could not have failed to be interested in her."
+
+"I had one interview with her and that was a disastrous one to us both.
+Did she ever give you a hint of why she had come into this part of the
+world?"
+
+"No; but I knew there was something on her mind."
+
+"Why didn't she come to us at once with her story? That is what puzzles
+me. It was not straightforward."
+
+"You must make allowances for her youth. Of course, you would not have
+acted so; but I think her courage failed her. She said once to me that
+you looked very alarming, and that she wondered if she would ever know
+you. I said that you were not fond of calling upon anybody, and that
+you never called on the few lodgers who came and went. You don't, do
+you?"
+
+"No," said Barbara, in her blunt fashion: "why should I? You do it
+because they become your parishioners for the time being. I should
+never have called upon her if she had taken root here. I was petrified
+when she told me she wished to speak to me."
+
+"Poor little Damaris! So reserved and dignified in some ways, so
+frightened and childish in others. I can't bear to think of her in
+London alone. She is very sensitive and highly strung, and it is only
+the rougher natures that can stand the working life in London."
+
+"Oh, every girl does something nowadays!" said Barbara. "But, of
+course, she is too young and pretty to be without any friends in
+London. I am very sorry about it all. I don't know how we are to find
+her."
+
+"Have you thought of advertising in the daily papers."
+
+"Do you think that any good? Personally, I never look at the
+advertisement column in any paper, but perhaps she might. I'll mention
+it to father."
+
+"And I'll pray about it," said Mrs. Dashwood simply; "that is my way,
+you know. God knows where she is, and He can, if He will, make her
+whereabouts known to us."
+
+"I wish I had your faith," said Barbara lightly, and then she took her
+departure.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN LONDON
+
+WHEN Damaris reached town, she took a bed-room for herself at the
+Paddington Hotel. She was so uncertain about her movements that she
+only booked it for one night. Her idea was to get hold of Stevens,
+whom she expected to find in her old home. And early the next morning,
+she made her way round there. To her dismay, she found an empty house
+in the hands of painters and decorators. She spoke to one of the men,
+and asked if he knew where Mr. Hartbrook was. The man said he did not
+know that name, but that the present owner of the house was a Captain
+Douglas.
+
+Perplexed, and bitterly disappointed to find Stevens gone, Damaris made
+her way to a neighbouring dairy, from whom they had always had their
+milk. They told her there that all the servants had left a fortnight
+previously; that young Mr. Hartbrook, they believed, had gone abroad;
+and that the house had been sold.
+
+Damaris was quite dazed. She felt as if she were suddenly flung out
+into an unfriendly world, and all her belongings swept away from her.
+
+"What am I to do?" she asked herself. "I can never afford to live in
+an hotel. I must try to get some comfortable rooms somewhere. I expect
+Stevens has gone home to her people. I will write to her at once. I
+long to tell her now what I have been doing."
+
+She walked round the square, wondering what she had better do. Her
+courage rose to the occasion, she would not allow herself to feel
+helpless and unnerved.
+
+Then she went to a chemist at the corner of the square. She had known
+him for years. Her uncles had dealt with him, and she thought he might
+know of some respectable rooms. He was only too pleased to try to help
+her.
+
+"I wish I did know of some rooms near here," he said; "but London
+is very full just now, and I think you will find difficulty in
+getting any. I suppose you wouldn't like a boarding-house? I know an
+inexpensive one in Bayswater. My wife's cousin keeps it. Of course, she
+may be full up; but you could ask her if she could take you. I'll get
+the address. I know she has several young ladies who go out to their
+work every day from her house."
+
+"Thank you. I think I might try her," said Damaris hopefully.
+
+She received the address and started off for Bayswater. It did not look
+very prepossessing when she reached it. It was a dingy house in a dingy
+terrace, but when the door opened, everything looked clean and shining
+inside, and a smiling little maidservant took her into a small back
+parlour where very soon Mrs. Jute made her appearance. She was a tall
+anxious-faced woman with short-sighted blue eyes. Damaris mentioned the
+chemist by name.
+
+"I am glad you know him," Mrs. Jute said, "for it will make other
+references unnecessary. Is it as a permanent boarder you wish to come?"
+
+"I can't quite say," said Damaris hesitating; "I want to stay in London
+for the present."
+
+"I think I have a small single room at the top of the house," said Mrs.
+Jute. "Will you be in to meals?"
+
+"Yes, I think so."
+
+"Then I must ask two pounds for the week, fires and meals in bed-room
+extra."
+
+Damaris considered.
+
+"May I see the room?" she asked.
+
+Mrs. Jute led the way. They toiled up three flights of stairs, the
+stair carpets giving way to cheap oilcloth as they ascended. When
+Damaris saw the room, she gasped. It had a sloping roof, and seemed
+stuffy and airless. There was a small iron bedstead, a washstand,
+and chest of drawers. The latter served as a dressing table, and the
+looking-glass upon it was cracked. A strip of stair-carpet was by the
+bed. Drab-flowered paper was on the walls; there were no pictures or
+ornaments of any kind. There were coarse lace curtains to the windows.
+The blind was stained and discoloured. All her life Damaris had been
+accustomed to beautiful furniture and luxurious surroundings. This room
+did not seem fit for a servant to sleep in. But it was clean; her quick
+eyes noted that.
+
+"It is very small," she said.
+
+"It is the only one I have."
+
+"Then I think I will take it."
+
+"Are you at work anywhere?"
+
+"Not just yet. I embroider; and I was wondering how I could sit up here
+in the hot weather."
+
+"Oh, but there is the drawing-room," said Mrs. Jute hastily. "You can
+always sit there. Most of my young ladies are out in the daytime. Miss
+Hardacre is the only one that uses it, and she's a very quiet little
+lady. I'll show you the drawing-room. It has a nice balcony in front."
+
+She led the way downstairs. Damaris followed her with a sinking heart.
+She had scorned her uncle's exquisitely furnished rooms, now she began
+to wonder why she had. The drawing-room was in partial darkness; the
+venetian blinds were down. There was a round table in the middle of it
+with some fashion papers and a book or two. On a dingy green velvet
+sofa by the window lay a little old lady in cap and shawl. She hastily
+rose when Damaris came in, and the girl saw that she was slightly
+deformed.
+
+"Please don't let me disturb you," said Damaris pleasantly.
+
+"Oh, not at all—not at all—I was having a little mid-day nap. Would you
+like the blinds up?"
+
+"No, no," said Mrs. Jute; "this young lady is only looking round; we
+won't disturb you, Miss Hardacre."
+
+They went downstairs, and Damaris arranged to come in that same day.
+
+She felt almost as if she were in a dream. Was it only the day before
+that she had been at Marley? It seemed like a year to her. But she
+would not let herself stop to think. She went straight off to the
+Kensington Art School. She had brought a bit of her needle work as
+a specimen of what she could do, and to her great delight was given
+a commission at once to start a curtain border. The pay was small,
+but she felt it would be better than nothing, and she returned to
+Paddington to fetch her suit-case.
+
+On the way to her new quarters, she began wondering what had become of
+all her clothes. She had left them all behind when she had gone off so
+suddenly, meaning to send for them later.
+
+"I don't want to write to Dane; perhaps Stevens knows about them. I
+will write to her at once."
+
+So when she reached her small bed-room, she got out her writing-case
+and wrote her letter. It was a little cooler now. The afternoon sun was
+hidden behind the opposite houses. She went downstairs and posted her
+letter, then she went into the drawing-room.
+
+Miss Hardacre was now sitting in an easy chair by the window, reading.
+
+Damaris took another chair and commenced her embroidery. Before very
+long, she and Miss Hardacre were chatting pleasantly together. She was
+told about each inmate of the house. There was Mary Watts, who was a
+daily governess to a London vicar's family; she was a Girton student,
+and had very advanced ideas of women's position in the future. Then
+there were Fanny and Florence Crane, two sisters, both employed in
+type-writing offices in the city.
+
+"They are not very refined," said Miss Hardacre, "and seem to have
+their heads only full of men, and of dress and amusement; but Fanny is
+kind-hearted, and when once I had a very bad cold on my chest, she came
+in one night and poulticed me, and looked after me until I was well
+again."
+
+Then there was a Mrs. Pounds, who had a private sitting-room and a
+pet dog, and only appeared at meal-times. And there was a Mr. and
+Mrs. Lawford; he was in some City business, and was a meek little
+grey-haired man entirely ruled by his wife who taught dancing in a good
+many suburban schools, and had no time for housekeeping or looking
+after a house of her own. Then there was a Miss Green, an art student,
+and her great friend, a Mrs. Wood, a widow, who was a journalist. These
+completed the party.
+
+"I am an idler and drone myself," said Miss Hardacre; "but I have not
+the health for work. And I am thankful to have a roof over my head
+in these hard times. I used, years ago, to have a dream of a little
+cottage in the country with a rosy-faced smiling village girl as a
+maid, but it never came to pass. And at the time I was thinking of
+it, my only brother was in sad difficulty and I was glad to help him;
+and I have never had the energy or money since to start a home. I had
+furniture then, but I had to sell it."
+
+"And is your brother alive?" questioned Damaris, with interest.
+
+"He died two years ago out in Australia."
+
+There was a pause, then Miss Hardacre said, "When I was your age, I
+lived in the country. My father was in the Indian Army, but he retired
+when I was quite half-small. I received my hurt—" she glanced at
+her shoulder as she spoke—"in a carriage accident. It kept me from
+marrying, of course, and from a good many girlish pleasures. But I am
+boring you with my reminiscences."
+
+"I like to hear them," Damaris assured her.
+
+"My parents both died when I was about thirty, and then I lived with a
+devoted friend of mine. She was more than a sister to me; such a clever
+woman she was—too clever for me. I became quite bewildered with her
+theories. The worst trouble in my life was when she died, and it was in
+such sad circumstances." A look of pain crossed her face. Then she said
+in a lighter tone, "Ah, well! Time heals, to a certain extent. I have
+out-lived all my hopes and aspirations, and when one expects nothing,
+one learns to be content."
+
+"That sounds very depressing to me," said Damaris; "surely we can
+always hope. Good people tell one of the life to come."
+
+Miss Hardacre looked over her spectacles at her.
+
+"Do you think that life will bring us more than this world gives? As
+far as I see it, it will be one long expiation for all our misdeeds
+here—or, as the Bible tells us, an everlasting condemnation."
+
+Damaris shook her head.
+
+"Ah, I don't think that. I am not very religious, but good people all
+seem to have hopes of a better time coming."
+
+"I don't know," said Miss Hardacre feebly. "I lost my faith long ago,
+when Annie died. I told you she was clever. She took up Christian
+Science, and never rested till she got me to believe it, too. She was
+much better than I. And she never expected illness would come to either
+of us. When it came to her—she died of an internal growth—she laughed
+at her symptoms and fought bravely till she could fight no longer. I
+can never forgive some of her friends. They came round her and told
+her she was failing in trust and right thinking. She knew she was not,
+but this made her very unhappy; and just before she died, she told me
+that everything had failed her. I cannot talk about it, but everything
+failed me too, and I have believed in nothing ever since. I don't know
+why we were brought into the world. Some of us are not necessary in
+this life. But I don't know why I am talking in this miserable strain
+to you. When one is young one does not trouble about serious subjects.
+It is only when we get old and lonely that thoughts come to us. I try
+not to think, but just take a day at a time. It is the only way."
+
+Damaris looked a little troubled.
+
+"I have lately come across two very happy people," she said; "one an
+old bed-ridden woman, the other a young active one. And they both
+believe firmly in the Bible, and stake all their hopes of future
+happiness upon its promises."
+
+"Yes—yes," said Miss Hardacre hastily; "I used to read it once." Then,
+wishing to change the subject, she said, "I met a nice girl once who
+had the same name as yourself. Have you any relations of the name of
+Hartbrook?"
+
+"Yes, one or two. Where did you meet this girl?"
+
+"It was before I came here—about three years ago. I was in lodgings in
+Bloomsbury for a short time, and she occupied an attic room above mine.
+She was in deep mourning like yourself, and was just beginning to earn
+her own living. She was rather an amusing creature—very kind to me."
+
+"Do you know where she is now? She might be a cousin of mine; we were
+hunting for her everywhere a short time ago."
+
+"No, I have lost her address. But it's rather a strange proceeding—our
+birthdays happen to fall on the same date, and we made a compact that
+we would write to each other for them once a year. My birthday will be
+next week, so I shall, most likely, hear from her, but I am afraid I
+shall not be able to write to her in time. It was very careless of me."
+
+"I should like to find her out if she is my cousin," said Damaris
+wistfully. "It is nice to have somebody belonging to one, is it not?"
+
+"I will certainly let you have her address when she writes. She is not
+at all like you in appearance."
+
+"No, I am supposed to be very like my mother, and she was not a
+Hartbrook."
+
+When, a little later, Damaris sat down to a long table in the
+shabby dining-room downstairs, she again cast her mind back to the
+carefully-appointed and well-cooked dinners in her uncles' house. Here
+there was a strong smell of cabbage-water, and burnt fat on the fire.
+The table cloth was soiled and creased, the silver like dingy pewter,
+the glasses dull, as if washed in greasy water. A half-dead maiden-hair
+fern was in the centre of the table, and some faded roses in four
+specimen glasses were round it.
+
+The dinner consisted of some very greasy soup, boiled leg of mutton,
+and a treacle roly-poly. To most of the hungry workers, who had had a
+scanty lunch in the middle of the day, this fare was both acceptable
+and sustaining, to Damaris, it was most unappetising. She sat at
+Mrs. Jute's left hand, the usual place for the latest comer, and on
+her other side was Miss Watts the governess who overwhelmed her with
+talk and questions about herself and circumstances. Damaris noted how
+several of the other boarders stopped their conversation to listen to
+her replies, and she resented the inquisitiveness of both questioner
+and listeners. Her replies grew shorter and colder until at last Miss
+Watts turned from her with a little impatience, and she was left to
+finish her meal in peace.
+
+After dinner was over, a certain proportion of the diners came into the
+drawing-room. A bridge table was moved out, and Mr. and Mrs. Lawford,
+Miss Green and Mrs. Wood sat down to play. Mrs. Pounds seated herself
+on the sofa and talked to Miss Hardacre, but she soon went upstairs to
+her own room, and Miss Hardacre went up herself at nine o'clock. Nobody
+spoke to Damaris, and she worked at her embroidery till half-past nine;
+then she, also, retired to her room, and surprised herself by a sudden
+burst of tears when she was alone.
+
+"Oh, I shall never stand it! I hate these people! I can't bear their
+talk, it's all sordid and horrid. I don't mind poor little Miss
+Hardacre, she's the only nice one amongst them; but it's dreadful to
+feel so lonely! I wish I hadn't come away from Marley so hurriedly.
+How delicious the country was! And the people! I might have made nice
+friends if I had stayed on there, and yet I couldn't have done it
+when Aunt Barbara looked upon me as an imposter. I don't know what
+will become of me! I used to think it would be so delightful to be
+independent, and able to do exactly as one liked. But I don't find it
+so pleasant now. And when my little store of money is gone, I shall
+never earn enough to keep me going."
+
+She went to bed very miserable; the heat and airlessness of London kept
+her awake. She felt as if she could not breathe in her tiny room. At
+last, she dropped off to sleep.
+
+
+And when she woke the next morning things did not look so black. The
+buoyancy of youth asserted itself, and, after a couple of days had
+passed, she became accustomed to her atmosphere, made friends with her
+fellow-boarders, and was happier in consequence. On the third day,
+Stevens appeared. She had come up to London on purpose to see her young
+mistress, and Damaris cried when she saw her.
+
+She took her out into Kensington Gardens, and there in a quiet part
+under the shade of the trees, they talked over matters together.
+Stevens was astounded to hear that Damaris had discovered her mother's
+family, but very vexed that she had not been taken into her confidence.
+
+"If you had taken me with you, Miss Damaris, I would have made things
+all clear. I could have told them that I received you as a little baby
+from the hands of your father. You went off so hastily that you did not
+even take your jewel case with you. And there is a necklet of pearls
+which belonged to your mother, and two rings. Your aunt would have
+recognised them.
+
+"You were baptized at St. Stephen's Church, and I was there holding
+you, and you were as good as gold and cooed up into the vicar's face
+as he took you in his arms. I think I had better go down to this place
+you've been staying at. I feel I could give them a piece of my mind for
+daring to doubt your word."
+
+"Now, look here, Stevens, I absolutely forbid you to do anything of
+the kind! They don't wish to have anything to do with me. I could see
+my aunt did not. And I am not going to live on their charity. I am not
+going near them again, and I don't wish you to do so. It makes me wish
+I had never told you, when you talk so."
+
+"My dear Miss Damaris, you're very young, and much too pretty to be
+knocking about London alone. You've always had your comforts, and you
+can't go on living where you are. I know what they boarding-houses are
+like—'specially the cheap ones. And 'tisn't fit for you. I'm simply
+furious with Mr. Dane to sell up the old masters' things and turn you
+out of the house without a penny!"
+
+"I turned myself out. Would you have liked me to marry him, Stevens?"
+
+"No; I had uncomfortable moments thinking about it. He was too selfish
+and pleasure-loving to make a good husband. I'm glad I gave him a
+piece of my mind. I spoke straight out when I had your letter, and he
+deserved every word I said. It was a sorry day when he came into the
+house. But that's neither here nor there. What we've got to do is to
+think what will become of you. Your bit of money won't last long, Miss
+Damaris. It seems to me you had best come home with me for a time. But
+your relations are bound to do something for you. 'Tis no good to be
+proud, there's no shame in taking from your own flesh and blood. The
+sooner you and they comes together the better for you all."
+
+"Stevens, do you know that hundreds of girls, no older than I am, are
+earning their own living in London? I mean to do it, too. I shall go on
+working for the Art School for as long as they want me. If that fails,
+I shall get some other job; I am no early Victorian girl. I mean to do
+as others do. And you see if I don't weather through all right. Now I
+want to ask you about my clothes. I never imagined that cousin Dane
+would send you off, or I should not have left them behind."
+
+"I packed three big trunks myself, Miss Damaris, and they're stored
+for the time, but your jewel case I took with me, knowing as you would
+write sooner or later and let me know where you were. I've brought it
+up with me."
+
+Stevens produced it. She looked terribly anxious, and Damaris laughed
+at her anxiety, feeling much more ready to go on living by herself in
+the face of her opposition.
+
+Nothing would induce her to yield to Stevens's entreaty that she should
+be allowed to go down to Marley and interview Sir Mark Murray herself.
+
+"'Tis the gentleman you should have gone straight to, Miss Damaris, not
+the lady. Men always see the rights of things quicker than us women.
+They aren't so prejudiced and suspicious as we are. A man goes straight
+over an obstacle in his way, a woman looks round the corners and tries
+to edge round it."
+
+"I don't see the simile," said Damaris, smiling. "Sir Mark would have
+made shorter work of me, I expect. We won't discuss it any more; but
+before you leave me, you must promise not to communicate with any of
+them without my permission."
+
+It was some time before Stevens would do this, but at last, Damaris
+wrung the promise out of her by threatening to move her present
+quarters and not tell her where she would be. Just before Stevens left,
+an inspiration seemed to come to her.
+
+"Miss Damaris, I've saved a good bit, and have got rather tired of
+service. I was only telling my sister so the other day. How would it be
+if I were to come up to London and take a nice little house somewhere
+and let lodgings? You could be my first lodger, and maybe I could get
+others, and I have a cousin a first-rate cook; I believe she'd join
+me. I should be comfortable about you, then. And by-and-by, you'd see
+different, and would want to live with your relations."
+
+"I think it would be charming, Stevens, if you could do such a thing.
+Go home and think about it, and meanwhile I shall stay on where I am,
+till your idea can be carried out."
+
+Stevens went off, smiling; but once away from Damaris, her face settled
+into one of the most anxious gravity.
+
+"She's such an innocent child, and has been so sheltered all her life,
+that 'tis terrible to think of her on her own. It's to be hoped it will
+not last long. And if I can't bring her and her grandfather together
+without breaking my promise—well, I'm not so clever as I'm given credit
+for!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE RUNAWAY IS TRACKED
+
+IT was Miss Hardacre's birthday. Damaris had gone out early and bought
+her a lovely bunch of flowers. She was getting really attached to the
+quiet little uncomplaining woman, but longed sometimes to be able to
+cheer her by a more hopeful outlook.
+
+Miss Hardacre was disappointed not to have received a letter from her
+young friend, Miss Hartbrook, but about eleven o'clock, when she and
+Damaris were sitting in the drawing-room together, and just arranging
+to take a little walk in the gardens a visitor was announced, and a
+tall rather shabbily dressed girl appeared, with a fair honest face,
+and a lot of curly red-brown hair.
+
+Miss Hardacre threw up her hands.
+
+"Is it you, Nellie!"
+
+"My dear Unnecessary One, it is. Me in the flesh! I have a holiday, and
+instead of writing, I determined to come in person and congratulate you
+on another year having slipped away in this vale of tears."
+
+They kissed each other affectionately, and Miss Hardacre hastily
+introduced Damaris, who was making a move from the room.
+
+"Don't go, dear, till you have spoken to each other and found out if
+you are relations."
+
+The girls looked at each other. Then Damaris asked quietly—
+
+"Have you a brother called Dane, I wonder?"
+
+The girl gave a short laugh, but not a very pleasant one.
+
+"Why, yes, I have, and once upon a time I prided myself upon the fact.
+Who can you be? The young cousin who lived with my two old great-uncles
+whom I never saw?"
+
+"Yes; but why have we never known each other? Why have you kept away?"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"I was brought up by my mother's family, and lived with an aunt till
+about four years ago, when she died. It was only last week that I heard
+in a roundabout way of my brother having come home, and of having
+come in to all our uncles' money. Wouldn't you have thought he would
+have sought his sister out and let her share a little of his abundant
+wealth?"
+
+"Oh! But he did, he did; he hunted everywhere for you," said Damaris
+eagerly. "We all did, but you had disappeared."
+
+"I'm glad to know that much. Of course we were bad correspondents—I
+used to write to him when I was quite a girl, but he never answered me,
+so I left off writing. He never sent me one halfpenny, though I know he
+was doing very well for himself out in India. Of course, as long as my
+aunt lived, I did not need help, but I had a stiff fight afterwards.
+I'm just keeping my head above water now as The Unnecessary One knows;
+but it rather set my back up when I heard that the lawyer had given
+him my address, and yet that he never troubled to write me one line,
+or make one effort to see me." Then she looked a little sharply at
+Damaris. "You are engaged to him, are you not?"
+
+"Not now. I was for a short time."
+
+"Oh! Then does that mean that you have lost your home?"
+
+"The house and furniture are sold. I don't know where your brother is
+now."
+
+"But you were left some of their money, weren't you?"
+
+"No, I received nothing."
+
+"Shake hands! You and I are fellow sufferers then. But money isn't the
+only thing in life. There are plenty of good things besides. Health and
+brains. I'm told I have them both. You're lucky in rubbing against Miss
+Hardacre. Isn't she a little dear? I was very down in my luck when I
+first saw her. She comforted me like a mother."
+
+"I have no comfort to give anyone," Miss Hardacre protested mournfully.
+
+"But you've got sympathy—that's quite as good. Has she told you my
+nickname for her cousin? She's imbued with the idea that she is an
+unnecessary being on the face of the globe, so I rub it in. But I know
+there 'll be an empty spot in my heart when she goes out."
+
+Damaris smiled. She liked this bright, brusque cousin of hers, and
+before long, they became quite intimate. Nellie Hartbrook had come to
+take out Miss Hardacre for the day, and she extended the invitation to
+Damaris. At first, she declined it, but she saw that they really wanted
+her to come with them, and so the trio departed together, all having
+lunch at a quiet little restaurant of Nellie's choice.
+
+Then she took them to an afternoon concert at the Queen's Hall—Damaris
+discovered that Miss Hardacre was passionately fond of music, after
+which they had tea together, and Miss Hardacre and Damaris only
+returned to the boarding-house in time for dinner.
+
+But the cousins had been able to talk a great deal together, and though
+Nellie did not advise her to change her quarters at present, she told
+her that if she wanted any city work, she believed she could put her in
+the way of doing something.
+
+"We won't lose each other. It's nice to have some relations, isn't
+it?" Nellie said. "And I believe you and I have a good many tastes in
+common—witness both of us taking such a liking to the Unnecessary One."
+
+Damaris acquiesced eagerly. She felt her heart go out to the brave
+uncomplaining girl, who was so cheerful on so little of this world's
+bounty.
+
+
+She discussed her with Miss Hardacre the following day.
+
+"It is such an extraordinary coincidence that I should find her through
+knowing you," Damaris said. "If only I had been able to find her
+before, I believe her brother would have done something for her. He
+talked as if he would."
+
+"But what made him change so?"
+
+"I don't know. He did change in a remarkable way; it was that which
+made me feel I could not marry him. I think he had expensive tastes,
+and made friends with some extravagant women, and then wanted all his
+money for himself. I wish Nellie would make herself known to him now.
+He might do something for her."
+
+"She will not do that, I am afraid. I think that both you and she are
+very proud. Too proud to be beneficial for yourselves. But Nellie is a
+dear girl."
+
+Miss Hardacre spoke with feeling.
+
+"You would never take any money from people who did not want to give it
+to you, would you?" Damaris asked.
+
+"If I were very poor, and if it were my right, why should I not?"
+
+"I don't believe you would."
+
+Damaris's tone was emphatic, and Miss Hardacre smiled.
+
+"Ah, well! One does not know what one would do until one is tried. I
+am thankful I have just enough to keep me from anyone's charity at
+present." She sighed. "We all have to leave our money behind sooner or
+later. When one gets old and feeble, the less one has, the less anxiety
+is in one's life."
+
+"I'm afraid I rather like comfort—even luxury," confessed Damaris.
+
+"I can see you have been brought up in it."
+
+And then Damaris found herself confiding in Miss Hardacre. She told
+her of her life with her uncles, of Dane's arrival, and of her sudden
+departure, and then of Marley and its inhabitants, but she did not
+touch upon her connection with the Hall. That, she felt, she must keep
+to herself. She simply stated that she went to Marley because an aunt
+of hers had once lived there—and Miss Hardacre asked no inquisitive
+questions, not even why she had left her lodgings so suddenly and come
+to London to get work.
+
+Damaris haltingly tried to explain.
+
+"I felt I must get to work, but I was sorry to leave the village. I
+have missed a good deal by coming away. I went there feeling very
+unhappy, but I began to get comforted and cheered. Two people helped me
+a lot—a very pretty bright young rector's wife and an old bed-ridden
+woman. They both had shining eyes and soft tender voices, and they
+talked of good things so happily and naturally that it made me want to
+hear more. I wish you had heard them! Mrs. Dashwood said she thought I
+had been sent to Marley to be rested in my soul and body, and she hoped
+I wouldn't miss it. I did miss it; I came away hurriedly, though I was
+dimly seeing that they had something good which I did not possess."
+
+"It's a matter of temperament," said Miss Hardacre in a dreary tone. "I
+don't think people's talk affects me much. I have grown beyond that."
+
+It was strange how she and Damaris talked together in that shabby
+drawing-room.
+
+
+Damaris often looked back in her after life to the hot August
+afternoons in that darkened room, where she and Miss Hardacre had sat
+and worked and talked together. She could always picture the faded
+carpet and ugly ornaments, the hot stuffy velvet couches and chairs,
+the faint rumble of the distant traffic through the open windows. She
+could see the little high-shouldered lady with her pale patient face
+and sad blue eyes.
+
+And the memory of their conversations there never left her. Politics,
+philosophy, and religion all had their share. Both—old woman and young
+girl—were feebly trying to penetrate some of life's mysteries, but the
+key was for the time out of their reach. They could only wonder and
+ponder—and if the hopelessness of the elder's outlook sometimes dimmed
+the buoyant aspirations of the younger, the irrepressible energy and
+high spirits of the latter gave fresh inspiration to the former.
+
+And so the summer months slowly passed, and Damaris still remained at
+Mrs. Jute's boarding-house.
+
+Stevens wrote occasionally. She was planning to come up in the autumn
+with her cousin, and take a small house in town where she could let
+lodgings.
+
+Nellie Hartbrook often came over to see Damaris and her old friend. It
+was she who showed them the announcement of her brother's engagement
+to Miss Welbeck in the "Morning Post." But she was determined not to
+make herself known to him, and Damaris felt she would give herself no
+pleasure by doing so.
+
+
+One afternoon, as Damaris was on the top of a 'bus, she saw the figure
+of her grandfather walking along Pall Mall. For one wild moment she
+felt inclined to get down from the 'bus and make herself known to him,
+but he was swept from her sight in a moment, and she knew that she
+would never have had the courage to speak to him.
+
+She had moments of contrition, sometimes. She felt she had acted hotly
+and impulsively in coming away so quickly. Her aunt had said that she
+would hear again from them; she had never stayed to give herself that
+chance, and now, as time passed, she began to wonder if she had been
+right in acting so.
+
+And then, one afternoon towards the end of September, she went shopping
+in Oxford Street. She was tired when she had finished her purchases,
+and was just turning into some tea-rooms at the top of Regent Street,
+when she suddenly came face to face with Stuart Maitland.
+
+A little startled, she was bowing rather stiffly to him and passing on,
+when he stopped her. He was in orthodox London clothes, and looked very
+smart, and very pleased to see her. Holding out his hand, he said, with
+his frank friendly smile—
+
+"Surely we are too great friends to pass each other by?"
+
+She returned the smile.
+
+"I am just going in here," she said.
+
+"Let me come with you. I like a cup of tea as well as any woman; and I
+want to hear how you are getting on."
+
+Damaris was vexed with him for following her into the tea-rooms. She
+carried her head high, and spoke in a remote cold tone.
+
+But he would not be snubbed. He found a quiet corner in an upper room,
+and took the ordering of the tea into his own hands.
+
+Then, when they were settled at their table, he looked across it at her
+with eyes that twinkled irrepressibly.
+
+"You are not glad to see me—why not?"
+
+"I don't know how much you know," said Damaris frankly but gravely.
+
+"I know everything, and can't conceive why you ran away just at the
+critical moment."
+
+"You cannot know everything," said Damaris with dignity, "or you would
+quite understand that to stay was impossible to me."
+
+"Because of Barbara's thick-headedness?"
+
+"Because she refused to believe me, and doubted my word, and was
+convinced that I was only staying at the Patch's to spy, and discover
+all I could about the Murray family."
+
+There was hot indignation in Damaris's tone. Her eyes flashed, and
+Stuart saw that he must move warily.
+
+"Barbara was unprepared for your announcement. She was awfully sorry
+afterwards. Do you know that we have been trying to trace your
+whereabouts ever since you left Marley?"
+
+"If you are on Miss Murray's side, I am sorry that we met," said
+Damaris stiffly.
+
+"Oh, but it isn't a question of sides, is it? I honestly confess I do
+feel like one of the family. But you are one of us, remember!"
+
+"Miss Murray says I am not. I do not ever wish to see her again," said
+Damaris, snapping her pretty lips together like steel.
+
+"Well, don't let us talk about her any more. Do you know that my aunt
+is in town at the Langham? I was just on my way to see her. She knows
+nothing of all this, so you won't let your wrath rest on her, will
+you? She would be so glad to see you. She has a slight cold, and wrote
+me that she was feeling very dull. Will you take pity on her and come
+over with me, after we have had tea, to the Longhorn? She has a private
+sitting-room there."
+
+Damaris hesitated.
+
+"I don't know that I shall have time."
+
+"Where are you staying?"
+
+Damaris looked at him steadily.
+
+"I don't feel inclined to say at present." Then she added with
+girlish eagerness. "There is nothing to hide, but I don't want the
+possibility of a visit from—from anyone at the Hall. It is quite a
+quiet respectable boarding-house. I may be moving somewhere else very
+shortly."
+
+"You can easily send a wire saying you 'll be dining out. Yes, I mean
+it. My aunt will be very angry if you don't stay to dinner with her.
+We'll discuss it later. Try one of these iced sandwiches. They aren't
+half bad. I think you are looking rather thin. Haven't you found August
+very trying in town?"
+
+Damaris felt as if her breath were being taken away. In a pleasant but
+determined fashion, Stuart seemed to have taken full possession of her.
+As to quietly dismissing him after tea, as she had at first intended to
+do, that now seemed quite impossible. She really liked Mrs. Bonnycott,
+and would be glad to see her again. She lapsed into conventional
+talk about the weather and politics, and London sight-seeing. Stuart
+talked with enthusiasm over everything. When they had finished tea, he
+insisted upon paying the bill; and then for a moment dropped his easy
+bantering tone.
+
+"Miss Hartbrook, I'm your friend, don't forget it. Don't treat me as
+if I am a naughty curious meddling boy. I'm going to advise you for
+your good, and you must take it in good part. I want you to tell me
+everything you can about yourself. There's no hurry. Do you mind my
+having a smoke? Your place is at Marley Hall, not in London. We are
+all convinced of that. Your grandfather is longing to see you, but,
+of course, he wants all the proofs you can give him of your being his
+daughter's child. That is only reasonable, isn't it? Have you got any
+more proofs that you can produce?"
+
+Damaris glanced up at him with a little rebellious curve to her lips.
+She looked like some pretty wilful child defying authority; and then
+suddenly her expression changed and melted. She put out her hand with a
+little French gesture.
+
+"Forgive me. You have always been kind to me. I will tell you all I
+can. It was my ignorance that made me go down to Marley without any
+proofs. Somehow I thought the letters would be sufficient to establish
+my identity."
+
+She then told him about Stevens and her mother's jewels, and her
+baptism at St. Stephen's Church. And then, she added—
+
+"And Stevens knows something else besides. I was not born at the little
+villa Rosini just outside Florence, which was my parents' home; but my
+mother went into Florence before I was born, and I expect my birth was
+registered there, for my father never went back to the villa to live—
+only to pack up. He came straight to England after my mother's death."
+
+"Ah, that will make it easier for us. We thought you would be
+registered outside Florence, in the little village close to the villa."
+
+"You do identify yourself with the Murrays."
+
+"Can't help it. I always have. Now then, shall we go and see my aunt?"
+
+"I can't stay to dinner."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"We'll see about that."
+
+Damaris had dropped her dignified reserve. Stuart had always a very
+genial influence over people, and she chatted to him as they walked to
+the Langham about Marley and its inhabitants.
+
+"I have often wished myself back there," she said. "I should really
+like to go on living with the Patches, and be friends with the Hall."
+
+"Oh come, that doesn't sound well, when they are your relations."
+
+"Do you really believe that?" Damaris fixed him with her steady grey
+eyes.
+
+"I do indeed, honour bright! I told Barbara so at once. You are the
+image of your mother's portrait taken when she was about your age. You
+wouldn't like to remain an outsider always, instead of being in your
+proper home?"
+
+"They are not bound to give me a home," said Damaris slowly. "I feel
+that Miss Murray does not like me, and never will."
+
+"You don't know Barbara. Her heart lies deep, but it is a big one."
+
+Damaris was silent.
+
+
+When Mrs. Bonnycott saw her, she was delighted.
+
+"The lost child! My dear, what a joy! And now you will tell us the
+meaning of your sudden departure. We were regarding you as a pleasant
+fixture, and then you absconded without a word of explanation. Where
+are you living, and what are you doing? Come and sit down and tell me
+all about yourself."
+
+"I will leave her with you, Aunt Kits. She is going to dine with us,
+and then I will take her home. I have a little business to do, but I'll
+return shortly."
+
+He went away before Damaris had time to contradict his statement.
+
+She found it difficult to make her explanation.
+
+"I told you I was not well off," she said. "I could not go on living
+at Marley doing nothing. I should have had to make a move some time
+and—and I felt it was best to go away quickly."
+
+"But why didn't you leave us your address? I went round to Mrs. Patch,
+and she shook her head mysteriously, telling me she was a student of
+human nature and that there was more in you than was given credit for.
+She talked as if you were a burglar or a spy in disguise! Why were you
+so mysterious?"
+
+Damaris smiled.
+
+"I did not mean to be. I did not realise you were all so much
+interested in me. I came as a stranger, and I thought I could go
+away as such. I am earning my living now, as I told you I should, by
+art needlework. I was a pupil long ago at Kensington Art School, and
+they remembered me, and are very good in employing me. I'm in a quiet
+respectable boarding-house in Bayswater, and I came across Mr. Maitland
+quite by accident this afternoon. I think this is all my history. There
+is nothing mysterious in it."
+
+"Well, I can't make head or tail of it. Stuart has been making quite
+a rumpus over your disappearance, he is always talking about it. And
+ever since we have been in town, he has been looking out for you. At
+first I thought he must have fallen in love with you, but he was quite
+angry one night when I taxed him with it. He said he was only acting
+on behalf of your friends who wished to find you. I asked him who your
+friends were, but he put me off, and told me if I happened to come
+across you anywhere, I must make a point of finding out where you were
+staying.
+
+"You're looking very sweet, my dear. A little thinner, but you always
+dress yourself with such distinction. I'm so very glad to see you
+again. And now you shall come up to my bed-room and take off your hat
+and make yourself thoroughly comfortable. Ah, here comes Stuart? He has
+not been gone long!"
+
+Stuart had only been to the nearest post-office and wired to Barbara—
+
+   "Elle est trouvé. Will write.—STUART."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+A SUCCESSFUL ERRAND
+
+IT was not the slightest use for Damaris to say she could not stay to
+dinner. Both Mrs. Bonnycott and her nephew would hear of no refusal.
+
+"You are under no compulsion to dine at your boarding-house to-night,"
+said Stuart, "Send a wire to them. Here is a form, and the hall porter
+will send it off."
+
+"You are paralysing me," said Damaris with a nervous little laugh. But
+she took the form and wrote her wire.
+
+As Stuart held out his hand for it, she hesitated.
+
+"As a gentleman," she said, "I suppose I can take it for granted that
+you will not read it?"
+
+"You are afraid I shall see the address? My dear Miss Hartbrook, of
+course I won't read it. But wild horses will not prevent me from seeing
+you home to-night. You can't help yourself. I have found you, and I do
+not intend to lose you again. Never!"
+
+The colour ebbed and flowed in Damaris's cheeks. He took her wire and
+handed it to the porter. Mrs. Bonnycott took her upstairs to her room,
+chatting to her rather irrelevantly of London and of all she had come
+up to do.
+
+When they returned to the private sitting-room, they found Stuart just
+opening the lid of the piano.
+
+He looked at Damaris with one of his irresistible smiles.
+
+"Having forcibly taken possession of you and being determined to keep
+you prisoner till it pleases us to let you go, I now proceed to soothe
+your ruffled pride and charm away all antagonism and hot temper. Take a
+comfortable chair and close your eyes. You have no idea what a heavenly
+frame of mind you will be in before long."
+
+"Oh, if you are going to play, I can't talk," said Mrs. Bonnycott a
+little impatiently.
+
+"Give me a quarter of an hour to disperse the wrinkles on Miss
+Hartbrook's brow."
+
+"I shall write a letter. I ought to have written it before. Your music
+never impresses me, as I often tell you."
+
+Mrs. Bonnycott moved to her writing-table, and Damaris was nothing
+loath to sit still and listen to Stuart's music.
+
+She could not feel angry with him, but she was annoyed at his masterful
+manner. This was not the Stuart Maitland she had known at Marley.
+
+"He thinks I am alone, and have no one belonging to me, so that he
+can treat me as he likes," was her first thought. And then she began
+wondering why he should trouble about her at all.
+
+But he began to play; his liquid touch and wonderful technique excited
+her admiration at once. Then the melody of his music took full
+possession of her, and she listened as if in a dream.
+
+Time passed, and Stuart was at the piano a good half-hour. He himself
+had no sense of the time when he was playing. At last, Mrs. Bonnycott,
+having finished her writing, interrupted him.
+
+"I want to tell Miss Hartbrook a lot of things, and it will soon be
+dinner time. Have you nearly finished?"
+
+Stuart crashed down his last chord and got up from the piano.
+
+"And now you have forgiven me," he said to Damaris.
+
+"You know your power as a musician," said Damaris, with a little laugh.
+"How I would like to hear music like yours every evening!"
+
+"Thank you. But I can't play to order. There are days when I couldn't
+touch a note to save my life. I don't worry you for days together, eh,
+Aunt Kits?"
+
+"No, no! I'm thankful you aren't always at it. You have too many irons
+in the fire."
+
+The evening passed very pleasantly to Damaris. Mrs. Bonnycott was an
+amusing talker and Stuart seemed bent on drawing Damaris out. She found
+herself talking happily to both of them. But when the time for her
+departure came, she appealed to Mrs. Bonnycott.
+
+"Will you ask your nephew not to see me home? If he puts me into a bus
+at the corner of the street. I can get to my boarding-house without a
+change. I am quite accustomed to go about alone. Every girl does it
+nowadays."
+
+"My dear, do you think I have authority over Stuart? Long ago, I
+decided that if he and I were to live at peace together, we must go our
+own ways and be absolutely independent of each other. Occasionally we
+have words, but very seldom. And I think he ought to see you home. It
+is too late for you to be out alone."
+
+"We'll have a taxi," said Stuart cheerfully.
+
+Damaris was dumb. She felt helpless to offer any more resistance.
+
+When she and he were driving off together, he dropped the bantering air
+he had adopted towards her and spoke very gravely.
+
+"Now we can talk freely. I don't want my aunt to know of your
+connection with the Hall till it is made public. Tell me exactly why
+you want to hide yourself away from us all? Doesn't it look as if you
+are not sure of your facts?"
+
+"No," said Damaris; "it is because I have lost all desire to own
+the Murrays as my relations. I need not make myself known to my
+grandfather. I feel I would rather not, now. They don't want me, and I
+don't want them."
+
+"That is rather childish. Having started the ball rolling, you must
+continue to roll it till it reaches its destination! By that I mean you
+must go through with what you have begun. I think if you are willing to
+meet your grandfather, all will go smoothly.
+
+"But I don't want to meet either of them until they are convinced that
+I am not an imposter. I won't do it. I warn you, if you do discover
+my address to-night, I shall just move my quarters to-morrow. I won't
+see either Sir Mark or Miss Murray. I am not going to own them as my
+relations until they own me."
+
+"I see. Then we must get the last missing link in the chain. And I'll
+get that myself. I'll go right off to Florence to-morrow and get the
+register of your birth."
+
+Damaris exclaimed—
+
+"Why should you do such a thing? You're almost a stranger to me."
+
+"But I'm not a stranger to Barbara. You shan't be molested till I come
+back, if you promise on your honour to stay where you are. Come now, be
+reasonable; wouldn't you like it all cleared up and made right? We want
+you back at Marley. You were making friends there before you went away.
+Of course you want to right yourself in Barbara's eyes. And the old man
+is longing to get hold of you even now."
+
+"If I stay where I am, will you in your turn promise not to give them
+my address? I can't run the risk of having them come to interview me.
+It is useless until they have the proofs they want of my relationship
+to them."
+
+"Very well. I'll promise not to tell where you are till I come back
+from Florence. Now, have you any idea where in that city you were born?"
+
+"I have no idea, neither has Stevens; but I had an Italian nurse who
+went back to Italy when I was about six months old, and Stevens told
+me her name. It was Thérese Adalmi, and her father kept a tobacco shop
+rather near the church of Santa Croce. Some of the family may be living
+there now."
+
+"This is first-rate," said Stuart, getting out his pocket-book and
+jotting down the names. "I've got a clue to work from. Don't you ever
+wish to visit your birthplace?"
+
+"It has been the dream of my life," said Damaris enthusiastically.
+
+"What a pity you can't come out with me? Shall we go together? Don't
+look so shocked! It's only convention that forbids us. But we'll wait.
+Perhaps one day—who knows—you and I may find ourselves there!"
+
+When the cab stopped at the boarding-house, Stuart insisted upon
+accompanying her up to the door. Then he wished her good-bye.
+
+"You shall be left in peace," he said; "only remember you have promised
+to lunch with my aunt next Monday. You won't see me for a week or so,
+and when I come back, I hope I shall be able to report success."
+
+"You are not really going to Florence?"
+
+"Yes; I start to-morrow."
+
+"I shan't know how to thank you," murmured Damaris.
+
+"If I'm unsuccessful, no thanks will be necessary. In any case, I'm
+pleasing myself, and travelling is never an effort to me. Good-bye.
+Will you wish me good luck?"
+
+"I suppose so," said Damaris, looking up at him with troubled eyes. "I
+hardly know what I wish."
+
+He stood for a moment looking down upon her almost tenderly.
+
+"I admire your courage, Miss Hartbrook, but my wish for you is that
+you find a safe and sheltered harbour very soon. You don't know how
+roughly the sea can treat a light little unprotected craft like yours!
+Good-bye—or shall we say 'au revoir'?"
+
+He was gone, and Damaris went in. She seemed to have been in a
+different world that afternoon. Quietly she slipped up to her room, for
+she did not want to meet any of her fellow-boarders that night.
+
+
+The next morning she found herself pouring out the whole story to
+gentle Miss Hardacre. She could keep it to herself no longer, and the
+little lady listened with breathless interest.
+
+"It is like a story in a book. My dear child, why did you not tell me
+about it before? I don't think you have acted quite wisely, and I wish
+you had some other person who would help you besides this young man. I
+don't quite like the sound of him."
+
+"Don't you. He rather fascinates me. He is not really so rude as he
+sounds. He has a soft voice, and he is very courteous to women. He
+seems as if he is always looking out for something to do for them. But
+I confess he is trying to manage me now. For my own good, he would say.
+And I'm not so sure of that. Oh, dear Miss Hardacre, I can't tell you
+how I dread another uprooting! I have a presentiment that if I go to
+Marley Hall, I shall have a difficult time."
+
+"Of course your grandfather will offer you a home there, and I shall
+lose you. We have just touched each other's lives, and then we pass
+on!" Miss Hardacre's tone was sad.
+
+"I don't mean to lose you," said Damaris emphatically; "never! Nor
+Nellie either. And perhaps, after all, my grandfather may be content
+that I should lead my own life. He cannot coerce me. I can be perfectly
+independent, and yet pay him a visit occasionally if he would like to
+see me."
+
+This was the course that Nellie advised when she heard the news.
+Damaris talked the whole matter over with her when she came to see them.
+
+"You see, I look at it from a working point of view. This is a
+strenuous time for our country. Everyone ought to be up and doing. What
+is this Mr. Stuart's profession?"
+
+"He has none; he helps his aunt on her small property and looks after
+two or three farms she has. But he is very gifted; he plays and writes
+and paints, and can turn his hand to anything!"
+
+Nellie tossed her head.
+
+"I know the sort. They just play at farming, and have a jolly easy life
+of it. That kind of man ought to be swept out of existence!"
+
+"My dear Nellie!"
+
+"I mean it. Every life ought to be full of service for their country
+and its needs. It is an abomination to live a purposeless existence. I
+should like to talk to him. Oh, there's so much that wants doing!"
+
+Damaris laughed at her enthusiasm.
+
+"Mr. Maitland's life is full of service for individuals," she said;
+"that is his 'forte.' He befriends every one he comes across. Mrs.
+Patch told me, when I was staying at Marley that he was kindness itself
+to anyone in trouble, and that all the villagers loved him. You can't
+deal with mankind 'en masse.' And I am leading a comparatively idle
+life, yet you have never scolded me."
+
+"I am wondering when you will wake up," said Nellie, looking at her
+with a friendly smile. "You have plenty of time for thinking over your
+needlework. I hope your thoughts will lead to action sooner or later.
+But it's men I am talking about. Look at my brother! He's going to
+be married soon, and then he'll settle down in idleness somewhere,
+just spending his money on luxuries to keep him comfortable! I think
+there ought to be a law in England that every British citizen should
+contribute something towards the improvement of the State, either by
+his personal brain power and work, or by his property and money."
+
+"What have I to give?" murmured Miss Hardacre.
+
+"You, my little dear, can give your good advice and sound counsel to
+the young and ignorant around you. I think that teaching and educating
+the masses is sound good work. But they don't only want to be taught
+arithmetic and history and geography, and all the ordinary ologies in
+the schools. They want to be made to understand the laws and rights and
+privileges of the British constitution, and of what a unit ought to be.
+Oh, you can laugh at me, you two. But I'm one of the working class,
+remember, and I see what a ferment the whole working class is in,
+from the farm labourer to the bank clerk. Half of them don't know the
+meaning of responsibility and patriotism. Their circle begins and ends
+with self. And they want to be taught. They want to be shown points of
+view from every side, not only from their own. They want to be taught
+political economy—well, I won't go on. I get rather hot when I am on my
+pet subject. If I were a rich woman, I would go round the country as a
+lecturer. I think I would have a motor caravan, and visit the country
+villages as well as the towns."
+
+"Would you be another agitator?" questioned Damaris, who was seeing her
+cousin in a new light, and hardly understood her.
+
+"I am going to shut up," said Nellie determinedly. "But when I think
+what opportunities some of these rich idle men are losing, it makes me
+furious!"
+
+"We started from Mr. Maitland, but he is neither rich nor idle," said
+Damaris quietly.
+
+Nellie would say no more until just as she was leaving, and then she
+kissed Damaris affectionately, saying, in Miss Hardacre's words—
+
+"We are going to lose you. Only don't settle down in your luxurious
+life and do nothing. You will be ten times more responsible for your
+opportunities then than you are now."
+
+"Responsible to whom?" asked Damaris. "Do you believe we are
+responsible to God? You always say you are not religious."
+
+"Responsible to your country," said Nellie, hesitating for a moment.
+
+Damaris shook her head.
+
+"No—responsible to God. I met a Mrs. Dashwood at Marley. I should like
+you to know her. Her gospel is work, but she has no vague ideas about
+our responsibilities. She says we have each our life work, and if we
+miss it, we shall have bitter regret later on. It is strange that you
+and she should meet on one point, for you are not a bit alike in most
+things."
+
+"For that I'm devoutly thankful," said Nellie, laughing.
+
+"You wouldn't say that if you saw her. And as regards your losing me, I
+am never going to lose touch with you, if I can help it. Why should I?
+We are relations."
+
+Nellie smiled.
+
+"I am not envious of you. But isn't it strange that fortune favours
+some so much more than others? You and I were both brought up by
+old relatives who led us to expect that we should be well provided
+for at their deaths. We were disappointed, and cheated of our
+expectations—left almost penniless, weren't we? And I am almost
+penniless now—just earning enough to house myself and dress like a
+labourer's daughter. You have fallen on your feet after a very short
+interim of discomfort. Your future will be as comfortable and luxurious
+as your past. Even more so. Well! I am not envious, as I say. I think
+I am better fitted to knock round town than you are. I am not so
+sensitively formed. And I know my environment is more stimulating than
+yours will be."
+
+"You are taking too much for granted," cried Damaris, with a distressed
+look in her grey eyes. "I am not owned yet, and if I ever am, I doubt
+if I shall be welcomed. I daresay I shall soon find myself back in
+London again, from choice. I do not know what will happen to me. But I
+do know that I have you and Miss Hardacre in my heart, and there you
+both shall stay."
+
+"Dear child!" murmured Miss Hardacre.
+
+Nellie stopped and kissed them both, and then took her departure.
+
+"I am heartily and sincerely glad about it, Damaris, dear; but we shall
+miss you out of this bit of the world, I can tell you that!"
+
+Those were her parting words, and Damaris said—
+
+"I really do wish that it was you to claim relationship with them, and
+not myself. I am content to be here."
+
+
+She went to see Mrs. Bonnycott several times, and then one day they
+received news of Stuart. He wired to his aunt:—
+
+   "Returning on Tuesday. Book room for me at hotel."
+
+To Damaris he wrote a letter:—
+
+   "DEAR MISS HARTBROOK,—Will you be glad to see me or sorry? For I have
+been successful in my search. Your old nurse is still alive, and helped
+me to discover where you were registered. Enclosed pale pink roses were
+picked by me at the Villa Rosini this morning. It is empty. You will
+have to come out and stay in it one day. I hope you will give me a
+smiling welcome.
+
+                         "Yours most sincerely,
+
+                                      "STUART MAITLAND."
+
+Damaris drew a long breath as she read this. Was she glad or sorry,
+she wondered. Did it mean a complete change of life to her? She was
+glad that she would be vindicated in her aunt's eyes, but would her
+aunt receive her with delight? She shivered in anticipation of their
+meeting. Outwardly she was very quiet and calm, but Miss Hardacre, who
+watched her with loving eyes, saw that the two days of waiting were a
+great strain to her.
+
+Tuesday came and passed. Damaris was glad that Stuart had not rushed
+round to her directly on arrival.
+
+But about half-past ten the next morning, she was told that a gentleman
+had called to see her.
+
+The drawing-room was empty. Miss Hardacre had gone to her room to get
+ready for her daily walk. Stuart was shown up, and Damaris met him with
+a quiet handshake.
+
+She was in a grey cloth gown. He thought he had never seen her look so
+spirituelle and dreamy.
+
+"I do thank you with all my heart for the trouble you have taken," she
+said.
+
+"It was no trouble," he said simply. "I felt when I started on the
+quest that I had a fair chance of winning through. I have come round to
+ask you what you intend doing?"
+
+Damaris looked at him with a little smile.
+
+"Ah! That is better," she said; "I was afraid you had come round to
+manage me again. Will you tell me what you have done? I suppose you
+have written to Miss Murray."
+
+"Yes, at once. And she and Sir Mark are here. They are at the Grosvenor
+Hotel. They want to see you, but I have not given them your address."
+
+Damaris looked round the shabby room.
+
+"It is no good my seeing them here, there is no privacy. I suppose I
+had better go to them?" There was an appealing note in her voice.
+
+"Of course, you might come to my aunt's rooms at the Langham, and they
+could meet you there; but I fancy you would find her rather in the way.
+She would naturally be very excited about it."
+
+"I would rather not do that."
+
+"Then let me get a taxi, and we'll drive straight to the Grosvenor. I
+should get it over as soon as possible, if I were you."
+
+"Yes," said Damaris slowly, "I will."
+
+The door opened at this juncture, and Miss Hardacre appeared.
+
+"Damaris, dear, I am ready-oh, I beg your pardon!" She shrank back, but
+Damaris led her forward.
+
+"Miss Hardacre, you know everything; may I introduce Mr. Maitland to
+you. He has come to tell me that Sir Mark Murray and his daughter are
+in town; and I am going to them now."
+
+Stuart gave a little courteous bow.
+
+Damaris turned to him.
+
+"This is one of my greatest friends. I don't think I could have stayed
+here without her. She has been most awfully kind to me."
+
+Miss Hardacre's eyes filled with tears. She looked a pathetic little
+figure as she stood there.
+
+But Stuart's whole face softened as he addressed her.
+
+"Then as a friend, you will rejoice in Miss Hartbrook's discovery of
+her relations," he said.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Hardacre, "even though it will take her from us, I am
+sincerely glad for her to have a happy home."
+
+Damaris left the room to dress for the occasion. She felt that now the
+time had come for her to meet her grandfather, the sooner it was over
+the better.
+
+She re-entered the drawing-room in a very few minutes. A grey straw
+hat with a mauve wreath of flowers round it was on her head. As she
+drew her grey gloves on, Stuart thought she was the picture of dainty
+sweetness. She stooped and kissed Miss Hardacre.
+
+"I shall soon be back, and then I'll tell you all about it," she said.
+And then she and Stuart left the house together.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE FAMILY MEETING
+
+BOTH Stuart and Damaris were very silent during the drive to the
+Grosvenor Hotel. When they alighted, Stuart said—
+
+"I'll say good-bye. I won't come in with you. I've done my part. I
+promised Barbara to find you and bring you back to them again, and I've
+done it. And you must forgive my summary way of taking possession of
+you."
+
+Then, seeing that Damaris was white even to her lips, he added, "Of
+course, I'll come in with you if you would rather. Are you nervous?"
+
+"Thank you, it will be best for me to see them alone. It is rather a
+nervous opportunity, isn't it?" She smiled up at him sweetly as she
+spoke. "I am most grateful to you, though I know it's for my aunt's
+sake that you have been so busy on my behalf."
+
+"Oh, give me a little credit for wanting to help you, too."
+
+He went off, and Damaris found herself standing in the entrance hall of
+the hotel, feeling more lonely and insignificant and helpless than she
+had ever felt in her life before.
+
+A page-boy took her upstairs to a private drawing-room, and then the
+door opened and she was announced.
+
+Sir Mark was standing by the window looking down into the street below.
+Barbara was seated at the table writing a letter. She was clad in a
+brown velvet gown. Without her hat she looked more womanly, and the
+sunshine streaming in from the window, rested on her golden head making
+it the brightest spot in the room.
+
+Sir Mark wheeled round, and, stepping forward, took Damaris by both her
+hands and drew her towards him.
+
+"Let me look at you, my dear," he said in a husky voice. "I have had my
+poor Lilian in my thoughts all this morning. They say you are like her."
+
+Barbara rose from the table.
+
+Damaris first looked at her grandfather, then turned to her.
+
+"Do you believe in me yet?" she asked. "I have brought you a little of
+my mother's jewellery, which she left me—you will no doubt recognise
+it. And an old servant of my uncles will come and see you if you like,
+and answer any questions about me."
+
+Then, taking out her jewel case from her bag, she laid it upon the
+table and stood beside it a little proudly.
+
+"My dear," said Sir Mark, looking at her, "I want no other proof than
+your remarkable likeness to your mother. That is sufficient for me."
+
+Barbara smiled.
+
+"You must not bear me a grudge for my first suspicions, Damaris. I
+have been quite as anxious to find you as my father. And we are very
+grateful to Mr. Maitland for the trouble he has taken for us." She bent
+forward and kissed Damaris suddenly. "There! We must remember we are
+aunt and niece now," she said. "There need be no awkwardness of feeling
+between us."
+
+Sir Mark looked as if he could not take his eyes off this new
+granddaughter of his.
+
+"I hear you were down in our village for two or three weeks, and never
+made yourself known to us," he said. "I can't understand why you did
+not come up to the Hall at once."
+
+"When I first went down there," explained Damaris quietly, "I did not
+know whether I should find you still living there. I went to find you
+out, and then somehow or other my courage failed me, and I put it off
+from day to day. I am very sorry. I see it was foolish."
+
+"You could have written if you were shy of coming," said her
+grandfather. "I can't think why you did not write before. I had no idea
+of your existence. What made you come down to discover us?"
+
+A pink flush came into Damaris's cheeks.
+
+"I don't want to hide anything from you," she said; "I was in trouble.
+I was engaged to be married to my cousin, who came in for my uncles'
+money, and I was obliged to break it off. I could not go on with it.
+I was living in his house, and I had to leave it, and I did not know
+where to go. I suddenly came upon those letters in my mother's desk,
+and it was those which made me come down to Marley."
+
+There was a little silence. Barbara spoke first—
+
+"It does not matter about the past, father. Damaris would like to know
+what she is to do. Do you wish her to return with us at once?"
+
+"Of course; of course. What else should she do?"
+
+"But," said Damaris, a little hesitation in her tone; "I don't want
+you to offer me a home because I am your grandchild. I can earn my own
+living. I am sure I can. And I have a cousin who is doing it; and I
+know she would let me live with her if you did not like the idea of my
+living alone. May I tell you my own plans? Our old servant Stevens is
+going to let lodgings in town, and I can be her lodger. I have got work
+from the Art Needlework School—and for the present, at least, I can pay
+my way."
+
+"Absurd!" ejaculated Sir Mark. "I should not be likely to let a
+grandchild of mine fend for herself in London. No; we have room and a
+welcome for you at the Hall; and the sooner you come there, the better.
+We shall be returning to-morrow, and you had better come with us."
+
+Barbara said nothing. Damaris looked in a perplexed fashion up at her.
+
+"Couldn't I—would you allow me to follow you—say in a week's time? I
+must see Stevens again, and explain things to her; and I should like to
+see my cousin—"
+
+"Look here!" said Sir Mark a little irritably. "We don't want to hear
+anything about your connections on the Hartbrook side. When you come to
+us, you must forget them."
+
+Damaris's head was raised at once.
+
+"I am not ashamed of my father's relations, nor would you be, if you
+were to meet them. I couldn't give up my friendship with Nellie. Though
+I have not known her very long, I would not do it on principle. If I
+come to you, I could not be in bondage—I must be free to keep my own
+friends if I wish."
+
+Sir Mark stared at her, and Barbara surprised them both by a hearty
+laugh.
+
+"For goodness sake, father, don't let us have a repetition of the old
+times. You always sound a good deal more autocratic than you are.
+Damaris is a modern girl; she will expect the same liberty that I have.
+Why shouldn't she keep in touch with her cousin? As long as she is a
+quiet respectable girl, there can be no harm in her."
+
+"You will find I am kept in very good order by your aunt, little girl.
+What's your name? Damaris, isn't it? Well—we won't begin to quarrel the
+first day of our acquaintance. Come and give your grandfather a kiss,
+and tell him that you like the look of him."
+
+Damaris went up promptly and kissed him. "Indeed, I do like the look of
+you very much," she assured him, with her pretty smile. "And I think it
+is very kind and good of you to give me a home at once. But will you
+give me a week longer in town to make my arrangements for coming to
+you."
+
+"Shall we, Barbara?"
+
+"Of course, father. She can come to us any day next week."
+
+And so it was settled.
+
+Damaris felt as if she were in a dream. She could hardly realise that
+her whole life was going to be changed so soon. But she accepted her
+grandfather's invitation to lunch, and chatted to him quite pleasantly
+throughout the meal.
+
+Barbara was rather silent; but Damaris felt that she had no opposition
+or dislike to be met with from her.
+
+She left them at three o'clock. Her grandfather put her into a taxi
+himself, and surprised her by putting a little packet of pound notes
+into her hand.
+
+"That is to meet any expenses you may have before you come to us—I
+won't say to buy yourself a frock, for you could not wear a prettier
+get-up than you are doing at present. God bless you, child; and come to
+us prepared to be happy. Barbara and I are quiet country folk, but we
+understand each other and live at peace."
+
+Sudden tears came to Damaris's eyes. From that moment, she felt that
+she loved her grandfather, and would do her best to please him.
+
+He went back and sat down in his sitting-room with a little sigh.
+
+"It brings the old times back. What do you think of her, Barbara? A
+pretty little girl, eh? And oh, so like her mother."
+
+"Yes," assented Barbara, "she is very like Lilian as I remember her;
+but if she has her hot pride and temper, I beseech you, father dear,
+not to provoke it by too much severity."
+
+"Am I severe? God knows I do not want to be. You're a good girl,
+Barbara—they say you've the most unruffled temper going; but all young
+people are not like you—and this child is pretty, and seems to have
+had a love affair already. I don't want a lot of those city young
+men—relations of her father's—down in our parts."
+
+"I don't think there will be any fear of that. Let us wait and see. We
+can deal with things as they come. Now I'm going to leave you to have
+an afternoon nap—you know what your doctor told you yesterday about
+overdoing it—and you can meet me at The Langham for tea. Mrs. Bonnycott
+expects us."
+
+"Yes—yes; we must thank Stuart for that run out to Florence. It was
+most satisfactory getting at that register. I hope that child will be
+all right by herself. She's in a respectable place, you say?"
+
+"So Stuart assures me. Of course she will be all right. You must give
+her breathing time to say good-bye to her friends. She strikes me as
+having a very capable head upon her shoulders."
+
+Barbara left him. Later in the afternoon, she was sitting with Mrs.
+Bonnycott and telling her the news. Stuart came in as his aunt was
+expressing her astonishment and delight. She was quite excited over it.
+
+"I knew there was good blood in her—could see it. I've been making up
+my mind to ask her to come to me as a companion. I did not like to
+think of her alone in London. Stuart, what do you mean by keeping me in
+the dark about it? What a sensation in our part of the world! I wish I
+could discover some niece or great-niece in the same easy way."
+
+"How did the interview go off?" Stuart asked Barbara.
+
+She smiled.
+
+"We were very quiet and calm; there was no demonstration of feeling—but
+you could not expect that. Father is the one who was most pleased. She
+has bargained for a week more of her independence."
+
+"She is not rushing at you," said Stuart. "I wonder how she will shake
+down? I can't quite see you yet. You have your pursuits, your father
+has his, and you're both complete in yourselves. Where will she come
+in?"
+
+"She'll find a niche for herself, and have her own hobbies," said
+Barbara. "I'm not afraid of the venture."
+
+"You don't chum up with very young girls," said Stuart doubtfully.
+
+"I'll be good to her, I promise you. Do you take a great interest in
+her, Stuart?" Barbara put the question carelessly, but Stuart wheeled
+round and looked out of the window. Somehow Barbara felt that she had
+vexed him. She touched his coat sleeve. "Don't be huffy. You haven't
+had your proper thanks yet for finding her and for rushing off to
+Florence; you are a friend in need."
+
+"I don't expect thanks or want them." Then he turned round with his
+sunniest smile. "Come out with me, Barbara; we'll go and hear some good
+music. There's a concert on at the Albert Hall this evening. Shall I
+take tickets?"
+
+"Father will be here directly. We are having tea with your aunt."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Bonnycott, "and I'm so knocked flat by your news that
+I hardly know what to say. I did not know your sister Lilian had a
+child. I remember her, and now see who this girl is like. She's the
+living image of her mother."
+
+Nothing would turn Mrs. Bonnycott's thoughts off Damaris, and when Sir
+Mark appeared, it all began again. He was quite content to sit and
+talk about his new granddaughter. But after a time, Barbara and Stuart
+slipped away together, leaving the two old people to entertain each
+other.
+
+Damaris went back and gave an account of her grandfather and aunt to
+Miss Hardacre, who was deeply interested in hearing about it all.
+
+"I can't bear leaving you, Miss Hardacre," said Damaris; "you have been
+such a friend to me that I won't drift away from you. What should I
+have done in this house without you? I can't make friends with any of
+the others. They don't like me."
+
+Miss Hardacre smiled.
+
+"You don't like them, do you? But I will confess that the young people
+are not your sort, and the old ones—well; it is a marvel that you have
+been happy sitting alone with me day after day! I am glad for your sake
+that you will be with your own people now. And if ever you do come up
+to town, it will be a real joy to me if you can spare time to come and
+see me."
+
+"Oh!" said Damaris. "I still dread the tremendous change it will be in
+my life! Both my grandfather and aunt are strangers to me. I wonder if
+we shall get on together?"
+
+"I should think they would be hard to please, if they did not get on
+with you," said Miss Hardacre fondly.
+
+"Oh, you're an old dear!" Damaris exclaimed. Then she added suddenly,
+"I have just thought of a lovely plan! Miss Hardacre, you must come
+down and lodge at the Patch's. You would love it. You would smell hot
+bread all day! I never got tired of the smell. It always made me feel
+hungry! And, oh, how you would love the glorious breezy bracing common!
+And the dear little country church, and sweet old saintly Mrs. Patch,
+and darling Mrs. Dashwood."
+
+Miss Hardacre began to laugh, but Damaris rebuked her.
+
+"I'm in real sober earnest, and I shall come and see you, and feel I've
+rescued you from the London fogs and this dingy old house. Oh, do think
+of it! You always told me you loved the country, and here's a delicious
+country village and nice rooms all waiting for you."
+
+"It sounds delightful, dear, but it would not be wise to tack myself
+on to you at this juncture. You must go alone, and make a place for
+yourself in your grandfather's house. Perhaps next summer, if I am
+still alive, we might think about those lodgings. It will be a great
+pleasure to me, and will be something to look forward to."
+
+"Well," said Damaris, with a little sigh, "we will wait, then. But if I
+can't come and visit my friends, I can bring them to Marley, and that
+will be lovely for me!"
+
+
+The week passed too quickly. One of the first things that Damaris did
+was to recover her mother's escritoire. Stevens had found a house and
+was moving into it. She was much disappointed that she would not have
+her young mistress as a lodger, but was partly consoled by the thoughts
+of her mother's home being open to her, and by the care of the precious
+escritoire which Damaris insisted upon placing in her charge.
+
+"If I can send for it, I will, Stevens; but for the present, I know it
+will be safe with you."
+
+"If it wasn't for my cousin, I'd like to throw over the house and come
+off with you as maid."
+
+"But I shan't have a maid," said Damaris. "My aunt may have one, and
+perhaps I shall share her, but I don't think I shall have one all
+to myself. My grandfather and aunt lead a very simple country life,
+Stevens. They are not smart fashionable people."
+
+"Then if you come up to town, Miss Damaris, you'll come to us instead
+of going to an hotel?"
+
+"Yes; I'll try to do that," promised Damaris, and Stevens was content.
+
+Nellie came over one Saturday, and, on the strength of her
+grandfather's present, Damaris took her and Miss Hardacre down to Kew
+Gardens for the day. They drove down in a motor, which was a piece of
+extravagance, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves amongst the glories of
+autumn tints and autumn flowers.
+
+
+One day, she lunched with Mrs. Bonnycott. She was still very excited
+over Damaris's connection with the Murrays, and made her tell her every
+detail of her past life.
+
+"I always took to you from the first minute I set eyes on you. And
+remember if Barbara is not nice to you, or Sir Mark gets into one of
+his irritable fits of impatience and depression, come straight off to
+me, and we'll laugh at life's difficulties together. I find that's much
+the best way to preserve one's calm and cheerfulness."
+
+"Thank you," Damaris said, smiling; "but I am not going to anticipate
+any difficulties."
+
+Stuart did not come in till after lunch. He looked tired, but was as
+cheerful as usual.
+
+"I hope we're fast friends," he said to Damaris, "and that you will
+never have cause for bearing me a grudge for bringing you and your
+people together. You see, I take full credit to myself for that. It has
+turned out well, hasn't it?"
+
+"I don't know yet," said Damaris, looking at him with an amused gleam
+in her grey eyes. "It is rather early to judge!"
+
+"I haven't bothered you with my presence since—for I have done my part,
+and knew you would prefer to be left alone."
+
+"Yes, I have had a good deal to do and think of. In a way, I am glad
+that everybody won't be strange to me in Marley. I have friends there,
+and it seems like going home."
+
+"And I'm one of the friends, eh?"
+
+"Of course you are, and Mrs. Bonnycott is another; and I just love the
+common. I have missed it more than I can say."
+
+"I'm glad I come first in the list," said Stuart. "I'm not jealous of
+my aunt, nor of the common either, for that matter. We all belong to
+each other."
+
+"My dear Stuart," said Mrs. Bonnycott hastily, "there is no need to
+mention the word jealousy. It's a vice I abhor. You may be sure I shall
+never come in the way between any young couple—least of all you, for
+whom I do entertain some affection, in spite of our constant quarrels."
+
+To this astonishing speech, her nephew made no reply, only looked at
+Damaris with mischief in his eyes.
+
+She began hastily to talk about her friends whom she was leaving
+behind, and very soon Mrs. Bonnycott was promising to recommend
+Stevens's apartments to all her friends.
+
+Stuart was very busy in town, for he was going down to Marley with his
+aunt the next day, and he had a lot of business to finish before he
+went.
+
+"I shall say 'au revoir,'" he said to Damaris, when they parted. "I
+always look upon the Hall as my second home, so you will see me again
+very soon. It is a pity we can't all travel down together to-morrow.
+When do you come?"
+
+"Next Wednesday," said Damaris quietly. "I must have till then to
+myself."
+
+
+She tried not to dread her departure from town, but when Wednesday
+came, she said good-bye to Miss Hardacre with tearful eyes.
+
+"I little thought when I came here how sorry I should be to leave. Do
+write to me, won't you?"
+
+"Indeed I will," said Miss Hardacre. "My days will be very dreary
+without you. Somehow or other you have brightened my life enormously."
+
+In the train, Damaris tried to fix her mind on her meeting with Mrs.
+Dashwood and old Mrs. Patch again. She grew more and more nervous as
+she thought of the new life in front of her.
+
+The Hall brougham was at the station to meet her. In a very short time,
+she and her luggage were conveyed to the Hall. She arrived there at the
+close of a sunny autumn afternoon. The old grey house was covered with
+red virginian creeper and climbing roses. The borders on either side of
+the drive up to it were bright with golden chrysanthemums and dahlias
+of every shade and hue.
+
+It was a big comfortably furnished hall into which she walked. A small
+log fire was burning in the open fireplace, and a beautiful greyhound
+lay stretched out on a rug in front of it.
+
+A little fox terrier started out from a dark corner barking at her, but
+Damaris was fond of dogs; she put her hand on his head and quieted him
+in an instant.
+
+Symon, the old butler, glanced at her as she did so. He was too well
+trained a servant to speak, but he told the housekeeper afterwards that
+Miss Hartbrook was one of the right sort—"afeared of nothing!"
+
+If he had only known how Damaris's heart was beating at that moment, he
+would have qualified his statement.
+
+He was leading her into the drawing-room, when Barbara appeared upon
+the stairs.
+
+"We'll have tea in my boudoir, Symon, the Squire won't be home till
+late. Well, Damaris, here you are. Have you had a comfortable journey?"
+
+She was in the Hall shaking hands with Damaris. Barbara was a very
+undemonstrative person, and shed her kisses on no one—not even her
+father.
+
+Damaris replied politely, and then they went into the charming little
+room furnished in dark oak and blue velvet. The walls were panelled,
+but relieved by some lovely water-colour sketches. Damaris sat down in
+silence by the fire, and Barbara stood for a moment in silence, too,
+thoughtfully regarding her.
+
+"This is my sanctum," she said, "but you will be welcome to it. I
+live here amongst my books, and I write a few necessary letters, and
+do a few necessary accounts. But for the most part of my days, I live
+out-of-doors. Do you ride?"
+
+"No," said Damaris. "I have had no chance to learn."
+
+"Father and I hunt two days every week in the season—not more. You'll
+have to find your own occupations and follow them, independently of me.
+My motto is 'Live and let live.' I was too ruled up in my young days to
+be ever desirous of ruling others. So you'll be as free as air here.
+You look as if you've been well disciplined. Have you?"
+
+Barbara was talking away to put her at ease, and Damaris knew it and
+was grateful to her.
+
+She looked up at her now with one of her charming smiles.
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed I have. I have been in a comfortable well-ordered kind
+of prison since I left school, and treated as if my brains were on a
+par with the animals'." Then she pulled herself up. "I don't want to
+say a word against my uncles. They were good and kind to me, but they
+thought a woman ought to be content with so very little—just a needle
+and a duster and a walk out to see the shops. That would make life
+quite full enough for her. I am fond of needlework, I confess—I think
+it has grown to be part of me; but I love the country and out-of-doors.
+I hope I shan't be a worry to you; I don't mean to be. And oh, Aunt
+Barbara, just say that you don't hate my coming here."
+
+Damaris had risen from her seat, the quick colour coming and going in
+her cheeks, and tears springing to her eyes.
+
+Barbara looked at her in surprise. Then she laid a hand on her
+shoulder, and there was tenderness in her touch.
+
+"I see you have not forgiven me yet. My dear, I'm very glad to see you
+here. I adored your mother, and would like you for her sake if for no
+other. Don't let us have any misunderstandings about each other. I
+don't wear my heart on my sleeve; but if you aren't happy with us, it
+will be your own fault."
+
+"Oh, I will be! I mean to be! Thank you, Aunt Barbara. I couldn't help
+feeling frightened at coming here. It is all so strange to me."
+
+Damaris was ashamed at her show of feeling, but Barbara liked her the
+better for it.
+
+"I was disciplined, too, when I was very young," she said thoughtfully,
+"but a few years of perfect freedom have helped me to strike the right
+balance, I hope. You will find your grandfather a little irritable on
+the surface, and he will sound more severe than he really is; but he
+has not been at all strong lately, so we have to give in to him."
+
+Tea was brought in at this juncture, so all confidential talk for the
+time was stopped.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+LIFTING THE LATCH
+
+THAT first evening at the Hall seemed to Damaris like a dream. But
+her nervousness and dread disappeared. She realised that her aunt was
+neither antagonistic nor indifferent to her, only undemonstrative, and
+this put her at ease.
+
+When tea was over, she was shown her bed-room. It faced west, and as
+she stood at the big window which reached down to the ground, she found
+that she faced the common. Away on the horizon, gilding and glorifying
+the stretches of sloping turf and brightening the rose-red tints of the
+dying hawthorns, the sun was slowing sinking to his rest. Damaris gazed
+out in silence, then she turned with a radiant face to her aunt.
+
+"Oh," she said, in a low voice, "I shall be happy here."
+
+And then she was shown a little room which led out of the big one, and
+which was fitted up as a boudoir. The fresh chintzes and delicate china
+ornaments, the books in the bookcase, and the big writing-table in the
+window, the couch and big easy chair by the fire; all seemed the height
+of luxury after her experiences in her dingy boarding-house.
+
+"You have given me two beautiful rooms," she said.
+
+"They were your mother's," Barbara said simply; "and many of her
+treasures are still in them."
+
+For the moment Damaris felt almost overcome. She gazed about her with
+misty eyes.
+
+"I wish I had known her. I wish she had lived long enough to give me
+some memory of herself."
+
+Barbara made no reply. After a little, she said—
+
+"Now make yourself comfortable. Evans, my maid, will unpack for you.
+We dine at eight; and if you don't find me downstairs when you come, I
+shall most likely be out. I generally take the dogs for a run between
+tea and dinner. But find your way into the library. We sit there in the
+evenings, not in the drawing-room."
+
+She left her, and Damaris, pulling a chair to the window, sat down and
+watched the sunset in dreamy content. It seemed so still and quiet in
+the big house. So far, far away from the noise and bustle of town. Some
+lovely Gloire de Dijon roses made a framework to her window outside,
+and their sweet scent filled her room. She gathered one, and wondered
+if she might send a few in a box to Miss Hardacre.
+
+"What a lot of pleasure I may be able to give her," she thought. And
+then one of the old questions in her mind cropped up again. "Why should
+some people have so much, and others have so little?"
+
+She did not go downstairs till just before eight, and then, in the big
+handsome library, she found her grandfather talking to two other men.
+One of them she recognised as having seen in church,—Mr. Gore,—the
+other was a tall pleasant-faced man who was introduced to her as Lord
+Ennismore.
+
+Sir Mark looked pleased to see her.
+
+"A little granddaughter who is going to make her home with us," he said
+to Mr. Gore, who promptly replied—
+
+"Yes—yes; we have heard all about her. Mrs. Bonnycott was having tea
+with my sisters yesterday, and told us the news."
+
+Barbara joined them then. She was in a soft green velvet gown, with a
+string of old pearls round her neck, and some priceless lace about her
+shoulders.
+
+Damaris, in a simple white lace gown, felt shabby beside her. She was
+taken in to dinner by Mr. Gore, who discoursed to her in a learned way
+about the habits of caterpillars. One taste they found they had in
+common, and that was a love for the country and open spaces. Presently
+the talk began to be general, and Stuart's name was mentioned. Lord
+Ennismore seemed to know him well. Damaris heard afterwards that
+they had been at school together, and had fought side by side in the
+trenches out in France.
+
+"He's wasting his life," said Lord Ennismore. "I always tell him so.
+Anyone could look after Mrs. Bonnycott's small property."
+
+"You're so strenuous," said Barbara. "You take life so heavily and
+seriously. I tell Stuart that he lives to make people happy. That isn't
+waste of life if you accomplish it."
+
+"Oh, happiness!" said Mr. Gore a little impatiently. "I get sick of
+the talk of happiness. It is only one of the many moods that come and
+go like the shadows on the wall. We weren't sent into the world to be
+happy."
+
+"I don't believe in the contrary," said Barbara decidedly.
+
+"Stuart ought to take up politics. He would have been very good in the
+Diplomatic Service," said Lord Ennismore.
+
+"There isn't much pleasure in that now," said Sir Mark. "In this time
+of chaos, politics certainly have lost all glamour."
+
+"Well, he ought to do something towards bolstering up his country now,"
+said Lord Ennismore again. "I have several schemes on hand, and if only
+he would throw up his present job, he could help me enormously. You
+know I'm selling my Nottinghamshire estate, Squire?"
+
+"Yes, I heard it. Hard times, I suppose."
+
+"Not exactly; I'm looking ahead, and I'm coming to the conclusion that
+we land owners don't want more than one property, and that must be the
+one on which we live. And the sale will help me to carry out one of my
+schemes."
+
+Barbara looked at him and laughed.
+
+"Is this the ninety-ninth scheme?" she asked. "I've seen a good few of
+yours die almost at their birth."
+
+"Oh, yes, I'll allow I've a bigger brain for conceiving than for
+carrying out; but that's where I want a practical man like Maitland."
+
+The talk drifted away to other subjects; but when Damaris was alone
+with Barbara after dinner she said—
+
+"I did not know Mr. Maitland had been to the war. He never mentions it."
+
+"No," said Barbara, "I think he went through too much out there. Some
+men are strung harder than others. Stuart feels too deeply; artistic
+natures do, they say. He was wounded badly in the first year, and
+he's never been very robust since. That was why he settled down at
+Fallerton."
+
+"Has he no relations except Mrs. Bonnycott?"
+
+"No; his parents died when he was small; and he was the only child.
+He's hardly the lazy man that Lord Ennismore considers him. But he's
+one of those people who pose as a loafer and in reality do more work in
+one day than others do in a week."
+
+"I like Lord Ennismore's face," said Damaris quietly. "He seems as if
+he is looking ahead at something great, and is meaning to go for it."
+
+Barbara looked at her with a short laugh.
+
+"Are you like Mrs. Patch, a 'student of human natur''?"
+
+Damaris coloured a little.
+
+"I can't help getting interested in people I meet," she said; "I always
+wonder what they're like inside."
+
+"Lord Ennismore has had a very sad life," said Barbara; "he was devoted
+to his wife, and she was killed out hunting. And then his only son and
+heir was drowned when he was a boy of sixteen at school. He has two
+girls who are rather a handful. They have a succession of governesses,
+and he is worried to death with their complaints. He is making up his
+mind to try another school for the girls. They ran away from one."
+
+"How old are they?"
+
+"Fifteen, I think."
+
+"It's a pity he doesn't marry again."
+
+Barbara did not reply.
+
+When the men joined them, both Lord Ennismore and Mr. Gore attached
+themselves to her, and Damaris turned her attention to her grandfather.
+She was accustomed to old men, and was at ease with him at once. He
+told Barbara afterwards that she was a singularly intelligent girl. And
+when, eventually, Damaris laid her head on her pillow in her luxurious
+bed-room, she settled herself to sleep in perfect content with her
+surroundings.
+
+The event which she had so much dreaded had passed with great
+simplicity. She had slipped into her mother's family as a matter of
+course, and if no demonstration of excessive affection had been shown
+her, she had been welcomed with sincere pleasure.
+
+
+The next morning was wet. Damaris sat in her own little boudoir and
+wrote long letters to Miss Hardacre and Nellie.
+
+In the afternoon, when it had cleared, she walked over to a farm about
+two miles off with her grandfather. Both he and Barbara were very fond
+of out-door exercise, and walked as well as rode. Damaris enjoyed every
+bit of the walk. Sir Mark told her a good deal about the property, and
+talked about his sons to her.
+
+"Herbert will be in my shoes before very long. I shan't make old bones,
+my doctor tells me. But he'll run the place all right. He's on a small
+property of his wife's up North at present. She's north country by
+birth—a good-looking woman, but not my sort—nor Barbara's either.
+They're coming down to spend Christmas with us this year, so you'll see
+them. Ella is a good mother, but she's an affected little puss, with
+many fads. They've two nice boys and a tiny girl. It doesn't do to look
+on ahead; and now I've two of you to think about instead of one. But
+you'll marry—and so will Barbara; she won't leave me—I think that's
+half the trouble. If you do want a home, either of you, when I'm gone,
+there's Park Corner, the Dower House—quite a decent little house. But
+I hope I may see you with future homes of your own. Ennismore wants
+Barbara badly, but she seems hanging back; I don't know why. They've
+always been good friends—" He paused.
+
+"There, child, my tongue has run away with me. Don't tell Barbara I've
+been gossiping about her affairs. But it's always a hard time when the
+women of the house have to turn out to make room for the son's wife. I
+can remember how my mother felt it—even to this day!"
+
+"You mustn't talk of those times," said Damaris cheerfully; "you will
+be with us for many years yet, I hope."
+
+She began asking him questions about the farm they were going to,
+and Sir Mark, with a little relief in his tone, answered them. They
+returned home mutually pleased with each other, and it was the
+beginning of many talks and walks together.
+
+
+Upon the following morning, Damaris went to see old Mrs. Patch. She
+chose the day on which she knew the younger Mrs. Patch would be away
+at the market in the town, for she did not feel inclined to hear her
+comments on her connection with the Hall.
+
+The old woman received her with tears.
+
+"Miss Barbara has been in and told me all. You're Miss Lilian's child,
+eh, dear? I never thought it could be, and yet I kept seein' her again
+as you looked and talked to me."
+
+Damaris took her hand in hers.
+
+"You must tell me all you can about my mother. I love to hear about
+her. And talk to me for my good, Mrs. Patch. I have missed you so much.
+I have a great friend in London; she is little and weak and old, and
+has no hope at all in life. I long that you and she could meet, for
+I know you would do her a lot of good. How would you cheer her? What
+would you tell her?"
+
+"Weak and old and hopeless," said the old woman thoughtfully. "I would
+mind her of the promise. 'My strength is made perfect in weakness,'
+and 'Even to your old age I am He, and even to hoar hairs will I carry
+you,' and 'Happy is he whose hope is in the Lord his God.'"
+
+"You always go to the Bible for comfort, I notice," said Damaris.
+
+"Not always," said Mrs. Patch, with a slow smile. "I go straight to my
+Lord Himself—which is surely best." Then she looked over her spectacles
+at Damaris's bright face. "How about your burden, miss?"
+
+Damaris looked grave.
+
+"I'm beginning to feel I'm a failure, Mrs. Patch—in God's eyes I must
+be. I've done nothing for Him all my life. That's a bad record, isn't
+it?"
+
+"Do you want to love and serve Him?"
+
+"If it's not too difficult, I should like to," said Damaris softly.
+
+"Eh, dearie, we don't mind difficulties in our daily life. It's
+difficult to blacklead a stove, or make a pudding, or knit a stocking
+the first time one puts one's hand to it; but we don't give up the
+trying because of the difficulty. It ought not to be difficult to run
+right into the arms of love held out to us. Nor yet to hand our burden
+over to the Burden-Bearer of the world."
+
+"You make religion such a real personal matter, Mrs. Patch, and so does
+Mrs. Dashwood. I suppose it is because you live so near to God?"
+
+"No, dear miss, He lives so close to us. That's the comfort of it."
+
+Damaris looked thoughtfully away through the small casement window by
+the old woman's bed. It was such a tiny room, and yet the poor soul
+confined in it had such a tremendously big outlook on life and beyond
+it.
+
+"Don't spend your years waiting," the old woman said wistfully. "So
+many of us mean to turn to God one day; but we won't make up our minds
+when, and drift on and on. It won't get easier if you wait."
+
+Damaris turned and looked at her.
+
+"You ought to have been a man, and a preacher, Mrs. Patch."
+
+"No; I lie here and think, and it fair makes me long to take hold of
+you young people and press you into the Kingdom. 'Tis like looking in
+at a fair garden over the wall, and keeping outside because you don't
+choose to lift the latch and walk in."
+
+"Oh, I wish I could lift the latch, Mrs. Patch. Tell me how to do it."
+
+Damaris's soul was stirred within her. She had thought a great deal
+lately about these matters. The patient hopelessness of Miss Hardacre's
+outlook had shocked and appalled her. Yet she felt that she had no
+certain hope and assurance herself, and increasingly she had begun to
+long for it.
+
+The old woman raised herself up in bed; taking off her spectacles, she
+said solemnly—
+
+"'I am the door: by Me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved.' Can't
+you just kneel down on the quiet, miss, and lift the latch, and walk
+in? He says, 'Come unto me,'—and we're just to say, 'I come.'"
+
+There was silence. Damaris almost heard her heart beat. The old sweet
+familiar words had a new meaning.
+
+Then old Mrs. Patch spoke again, but she seemed to be speaking to
+herself.
+
+"We are so proud and stubborn, we won't bend the knee, and the latch
+can only be lifted on our knees. 'Tis too low for the high and mighty;
+that's why the little children find it so easy. And our burden rolls
+off at that door."
+
+It seemed to Damaris that she was already at that Door, and her hand
+was upon the latch.
+
+It was a long time before she broke the silence that followed, and when
+she did, it was to talk about her mother. She told Mrs. Patch of the
+letters in her mother's desk, and then she told her of what she had
+told no one else—that in a corner of the desk she had found half a leaf
+of what evidently had been her mother's diary.
+
+"It broke off in the middle, as if she had been going to write more
+and had been interrupted, and I know the words by heart. They seem so
+pathetic. Perhaps they were the last words she ever wrote:
+
+   "'I feel depressed to-day; now that my time has almost come, I am
+wondering—wondering—I wish I had been as good a daughter to my father,
+as I feel I have been a wife to my dear husband. As motherhood draws
+near, it makes me think seriously of life and death. I have prayed as I
+have never prayed before for my little one—for myself. May God forgive
+me for many heedless years. I shall try to make my baby better than its
+mother—'
+
+"It breaks off there."
+
+"Dear Miss Lilian," said Mrs. Patch tenderly. "She always found it hard
+as a child to own herself in the wrong. Many's the time she's bent her
+knees at my lap when she was saying her prayers: 'I'm not "quite" sorry
+enough to speak to God yet, Nannie,' she would say to me, lifting her
+big grey eyes up to my face."
+
+She lapsed into reminiscences of the children she had mothered in the
+old nurseries at the Hall, and Damaris listened entranced, till it was
+time to leave the cottage and go home.
+
+
+But that night, in the quiet and stillness of her own room, Damaris
+bent her knees and lifted the latch. The whispered words were not many;
+they meant a surrendered heart and life:
+
+   "O Lord Jesus Christ, I come to confess my sins, to ask Thee to take
+them from me, to make me Thine altogether for ever and ever.—Amen."
+
+And a wonderful rest and peace crept into her soul, as she believed she
+had been heard and accepted.
+
+
+She had always been a thoughtful girl; but, owing to unfortunate
+circumstances, her confirmation had not been the help to her that it
+should. She had been prepared for it by a very old clergyman whom
+the girls at her school had all disliked. He had little sympathy or
+understanding with the young, and the bishop who confirmed them was on
+the verge of a breakdown, and was obliged in consequence to shorten his
+sermon on that occasion. It had not been a happy service.
+
+Looking back at it, Damaris was only conscious of great nervousness
+and distraction of mind. Her long quiet times with her needlework in
+that upper room of her uncles' house had made her ponder over many
+things; but she had never come in contact with anyone except old Mrs.
+Patch and the rector's wife who seemed to live out their religion
+in real joyousness of spirit. Perhaps her fondness from a child for
+the "Pilgrim's Progress" had helped her more than she thought in
+apprehending spiritual things; and the hopelessness of Miss Hardacre's
+faith had clenched her determination to seek for herself, and find
+out whether there was any real comfort and joy to be obtained in true
+religion.
+
+
+It was a new day that dawned upon her when she woke the next morning.
+She went about with shining eyes, and a smile upon her lips which even
+attracted the notice of unobservant Barbara.
+
+She thought it was content with her new position. But Damaris's
+thoughts were away from her new home altogether. She spent the first
+part of her morning in writing another long letter to Miss Hardacre, in
+which she poured out her experiences of the previous day.
+
+Miss Hardacre read the letter through with pleasure, but with a little
+bewilderment. It did not then bring light to her. She considered it a
+burst of girlish impulse and enthusiasm. Her weary soul and dim eyes
+could neither see nor understand the wonderful simplicity of God's
+revelation to Damaris. But she wrote back a loving little letter of
+appreciation for the confidence given to her, and with that Damaris for
+the time was forced to be content.
+
+Mrs. Dashwood was away from home with her little boy, who was only
+just recovering from a severe attack of measles. Damaris missed her
+very much. The village of Marley seemed empty without her. But there
+was always a good deal of coming and going at the Hall. Sir Mark was
+hospitably inclined. His son Walter in town often brought a couple
+of his friends for a weekend; and when the hunting began, there were
+always visitors staying in the house.
+
+Most of Barbara's friends were men; women guests were few and far
+between. But Damaris was accustomed to men's society, and pleased her
+aunt by her frank simple manner in speaking to them. She did not court
+their admiration or homage. If anything, she kept too much in the
+background, and apparently preferred the older men to the younger ones.
+
+Stuart was, perhaps, an exception, but he was very busy at this time,
+and had only come over once since Damaris's arrival.
+
+"You've dropped into it all most wonderfully," he said to her upon that
+occasion.
+
+Damaris smiled.
+
+"You talk as if I should be out of my element," she said. "I assure
+you, I do not find anything unusual in my surroundings; a little more
+luxurious—that is all. The people I meet are very friendly, and do not
+seem different to those I met at my uncles'."
+
+"That is putting a nasty construction on my words. You and your aunt
+get on so easily together. I did not think you would."
+
+"Why not? I admire her very much. We each go our own way. I don't think
+I should ever be a companion to her; but I didn't expect to be that.
+She has told me that she does not care for young girls. But she is very
+good to me."
+
+He nodded.
+
+"Barbara is very sincere and true—she has no petty failings."
+
+"No," Damaris rejoined quickly; "she is very broad-minded and tolerant.
+I see that in the way she looks after the servants and the tenants. If
+she's sometimes hard, she's always just. In a way, I would rather be
+judged by her than by my grandfather." Then she gave a little laugh. "I
+don't know why I am discussing them with you like this."
+
+"Oh, I'm one of the family," said Stuart lightly. "I always consider
+they belong to me, and I to them. I adopted Barbara as a sister when I
+was five."
+
+Then he looked at her with his whimsical smile. "I can't adopt you as
+a niece, somehow. I think it is that at present you are too remote and
+elusive. When I get a little bit close to you, I am warned off as a
+trespasser. You don't quite trust me yet."
+
+Damaris looked at him thoughtfully with her steadfast grey eyes. Then
+she turned away without a word.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A BIG SCHEME
+
+IT was a gusty October afternoon. The wind was whirling yellow-brown
+leaves along the roads, shrieking through the half-clad trees, and
+howling down the old chimneys at the Hall. Sir Mark had gone up to
+town for a few days. Damaris had been taking a walk over the common
+in company with Rolf the greyhound and David the terrier. David had
+obtained his name by his fondness, from a puppy, of attacking dogs six
+times his size, and Damaris had many anxious moments when strange big
+dogs encountered them in their walks. She had staved off one fight upon
+this afternoon, and it had brought her into the house in a dishevelled
+breathless state.
+
+Stuart and Barbara were standing over the hall fire as she entered.
+Barbara looked grave and did not notice Damaris's entrance, but Stuart
+exclaimed at once—
+
+"Who has been chasing you?"
+
+"The wind," said Damaris rosy with her exertions. "But David is furious
+with me because I've hooked my stick into his collar and dragged him
+home by force. He tried to fight Farmer Sampson's dog."
+
+David crawled slowly towards the fire, his tail between his legs, but
+he rolled one eye round at Damaris in such a sulky disgusted fashion
+that even Barbara smiled.
+
+"I always let them fight," she said. "It's no good postponing the day."
+Then she added, "We're having tea in my sanctum, Damaris."
+
+Damaris ran upstairs to make herself tidy. When she came down, she
+found Stuart and Barbara still talking earnestly together. They were
+discussing Gregory Lancaster, the son of the family doctor.
+
+"Why did you interfere?" Barbara was saying. "The father won't thank
+you."
+
+"No; and perhaps the son won't either; but the poor beggar wants a
+chance. How long is it? Eight years, isn't it, that he has been trying
+to pass his exams, and not managed to pass out yet. He hates the
+profession, and will never do any good at it. And he's going down-hill
+fast. He as good as told me so. He's like some of these country-born
+fellows—hates town, and instead of working to get out of it, sinks
+without an effort."
+
+"How do you know your aunt will have him?"
+
+Stuart laughed lightly.
+
+"She always comes round; answers like a thoroughbred to the rein after
+she's plunged a bit. She's plunging now, and that's why I've asked
+myself to dinner."
+
+"I would like her to hear you talk."
+
+"I assure you she does."
+
+Barbara changed the subject.
+
+But Stuart was restive till tea was over; then, when it was taken away
+and they were alone, he said—
+
+"I have come over chock-full of news; you must let me tell you it all.
+Ennismore and I sat up till the small hours last night threshing it
+out."
+
+Damaris was going to slip away.
+
+"I want you to hear too," he said; "don't go."
+
+She hesitated, and looked at Barbara.
+
+"My dear Damaris, I have no desire for a tête-à-tête conversation. Now
+then, for your wonderful scheme, Stuart!"
+
+"It's Ennismore's—but it gives me the chance of doing good work as well
+as Gregory. You know he's sold his other estate. Well, he's going to
+put the price of it into a model village for disabled soldiers. And I'm
+to be architect, head foreman, general manager, and perhaps practical
+builder."
+
+"Jack-of-all-trades, as usual."
+
+"Don't chaff, because it's a big thing. He's going to pitch it on the
+top of that rising hill by the Long Burrow coverts—just two miles from
+Darleywater."
+
+"He told me he had such an idea; but I did not think he would put it
+into action so soon."
+
+"Oh, when Ennismore and I get together, we're pretty rapid. I'm going
+to plan it out. You see, we can run the water out of the town to it, so
+there'll be no boring for wells. And the idea is to give the chaps a
+chance of living outside a town, and working in it."
+
+"How will disabled soldiers—say legless ones—be able to do the four
+miles a day?"
+
+"Oh, they'll have their automatic tricycles, and the others their
+cycles, and some will prefer the walk. And they're all going to have
+a small plot of ground sufficient for poultry or fruit growing, and
+Ennismore is going to start them each with fruit trees, a dozen
+poultry, or a pig, just as they prefer. But one of our plans is that
+they should all help to build their own houses, so that employment will
+begin at once for them."
+
+"But if they don't understand the trade?"
+
+"They can learn. Of course, we shall have a few skilled workmen to
+help. You know, the Tommies have had a bit of experience out in the
+trenches—I've seen first-class dug-outs built by amateurs; and those
+who haven't an aptitude for bricks and mortar can carpenter, and those
+who can't carpenter can be getting the ground ready for cultivation.
+They'll work with such zest if they know it's for themselves."
+
+"And how many houses are to be built?"
+
+"We thought from twenty-five to thirty. Of course, the idea is that
+they should either be natives of Darleywater or have some connection
+with it. A town with fifty thousand odd inhabitants must have a good
+many of its men disabled."
+
+"And supposing you find they prefer to live in the town."
+
+"Oh, well, then we shall make up our numbers from elsewhere."
+
+"It sounds easy," said Barbara shaking her head.
+
+"It bristles with difficulties," Stuart exclaimed, "but I'm going to
+tackle them. Now, look here, what do you think of this for a cottage?"
+
+He produced a roll out of his pocket and opened it. It was an exquisite
+little water-colour sketch of a small thatched cottage in the midst of
+a bower of shrubs and flowers.
+
+Damaris looked at it and caught her breath.
+
+"How lovely!"
+
+Then she looked up at some of the watercolours on the walls.
+
+And Stuart, following her gaze, laughed.
+
+"You recognise the same hand."
+
+"Did you paint these pictures?" asked Damaris.
+
+"He did," said Barbara; "he gives me one every birthday, and I'm
+beginning to feel that this row of them dates my age. Really, Stuart,
+this cottage is ridiculous. It's just a picture. You'll never be able
+to carry it out."
+
+"Why not? We've decided to use thatch, and revive the trade of
+thatchers. There's plenty of straw on the estate. In some cases, we
+shall build a couple together, in others, single. We've all kinds of
+ideas—one a communal laundry-house and drying-ground."
+
+"I don't believe the women will like that."
+
+"Why not?" Stuart would not be damped; he was quite excited over his
+subject. "I want to start it next week," he said.
+
+And then Barbara laughed.
+
+"Isn't that just like you! How much are they going to cost? Have you
+worked that out yet? And how much rent are you going to ask?"
+
+"Ennismore is going to do it on the hire system. After so many years'
+rent, when they've paid for the building, it's to be their own."
+
+"It's a good thing that Lord Ennismore is a rich man."
+
+"I think it's splendid of him," said Damaris enthusiastically. "Why
+should not all landlords try and do the same?"
+
+"They're most of them too out-of-pocket themselves," said Barbara. "I
+know what the yearly repairs of our cottages amount to."
+
+"Yes; but you'd save that if you gave it over to them," said Stuart.
+
+"Then what will happen? The unthrifty and careless will let their
+houses deteriorate year by year until they become unsanitary pig-styes."
+
+"Oh, there'll be a signed agreement that, they'll vacate, if they can't
+keep up repairs."
+
+"You'll never be able to enforce that, when once the place is theirs.
+That is half the trouble with these country people who buy property.
+They cannot or will not keep them in good repair. It's a Utopian
+scheme, but not a practical one."
+
+"We'll make it practical. You can't damp me; I've taken over the job,
+and am going to work it for all I'm worth!"
+
+Stuart pinned his sketch up to one of the window curtains, then stood
+and looked at it with his eyes half shut and his head on one side.
+
+"Yes—not much amiss with that! Ten years hence, our model village will
+be the ornament of the county!" Then he wheeled round upon Damaris.
+"Barbara is a wet blanket; encourage me, will you?"
+
+"You don't need to be encouraged," said Damaris, laughing; "you are
+determined to succeed."
+
+"Of course I am. But I like a bit of applause."
+
+"My dear Stuart," said Barbara, in her abrupt fashion, "wait till the
+time comes for applause. Plans and schemes are easy to formulate.
+
+   "'The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
+        Gang aft agley.'
+
+"But I'll give you my good wishes, and we all shall be intensely
+interested in looking on."
+
+"Don't you talk to Ennismore like that. I've got ahead of him on
+purpose to warn you that he wants pushing, not holding back."
+
+"Oh, I'll cheer him on!" said Barbara. "The only person I feel really
+sorry for is your aunt. She'll be a lost dog without you!"
+
+
+Later that evening, after Stuart had left them, Barbara began to talk
+about him.
+
+"Of course he's an optimist of the first water; and there's no doubt
+about his industry and capability. He has hated this small agency of
+his aunt's which has tied him down."
+
+"How can he leave her?" asked Damaris. "And is he thinking of handing
+his work over to the doctor's son?"
+
+"To Gregory? Yes—Stuart has always been good to that boy. But I
+question the wisdom of bringing him here. It's true he has always
+hated surgery and medicine; but his father never let him alone till
+he persuaded him to take it up. And he has done no good at Bart's
+Hospital. He won't pass his examinations, and is leading a very
+go-ahead life in town. Drink is his snare. I question whether Mrs.
+Bonnycott will ever keep him. But it's like Stuart to try and do him a
+good turn; and, of course, it may be his salvation."
+
+
+The very next afternoon, Mrs. Bonnycott arrived over, and complained,
+with tears, of her nephew's "hard-heartedness and officiousness."
+
+"I've always been so good to him, and we understand each other
+perfectly. Why has he this sudden craze for more work? And what
+business has he to produce Gregory Lancaster to fill his place without
+asking me first whether I would like him?"
+
+"He meant well," said Barbara, trying to soothe her; "and Gregory is a
+nice boy, and loves the country. He has been miserable in town."
+
+"Stuart ought to get married," Mrs. Bonnycott said suddenly; "his wife
+would steady him down. His brain is teeming with plans and schemes and
+impossible theories which he tries to carry out as fast as they come to
+him. I don't know why he doesn't marry?"
+
+"I think I can tell you," said Barbara slowly; "he is so busy thinking
+about other people and doing things to help them, that he has no time
+to think about himself or his needs. I consider Stuart one of the most
+purely unselfish men that I have ever met!"
+
+"Well, this model village is ridiculous! Lord Ennismore will lose
+thousands over it. The people don't want to live in the country when
+they can have the chance of living in the town. Do you think a woman
+wouldn't rather have an oil and grocery store round the corner, and
+the baker, and butcher, and milkman all close to her hand, instead of
+having to trudge two miles into the town to get what she wants? It
+isn't sufficiently in the country to be independent of the town."
+
+"Oh, I don't see that," said Barbara; "bakers and butchers would call
+with their carts, of course!"
+
+"And it's to be a village of crocked-up men—not a sound one in the
+community! It's to be hoped the women will make up their deficiencies.
+We won't talk about it any more. I really don't care what he does with
+himself once he has left me."
+
+"But is he going to leave you?"
+
+Mrs. Bonnycott looked a little ashamed of herself as she said—
+
+"I told him he shouldn't stay in my house when he gave up the agency.
+He has thrown me over with a month's notice—so I have done the same."
+
+"I hope you'll think better of that," said Barbara.
+
+The old lady turned to Damaris.
+
+"And how are you getting on, my dear? It is quite delightful to see you
+sit quietly there with your needlework. No young people will sit still
+nowadays. You haven't this craze for doing men's work, have you?"
+
+Damaris smiled.
+
+"I don't know, Mrs. Bonnycott: I have hardly settled in yet. But I
+think it's quite right of Mr. Maitland to do all the work he can.
+Perhaps I haven't a right to give my opinion. I have been listening
+to you all, but it seems to me that Mr. Maitland is the man for Lord
+Ennismore. He is a good architect, and he is artistic as well, and
+practical, and has a way of getting everyone to do what he wants—"
+
+"Not his aunt," interrupted Mrs. Bonnycott.
+
+"Don't you think yourself that he will have full scope for all his
+energies and abilities?"
+
+"I want his energies and abilities spent upon 'my' property," said Mrs.
+Bonnycott stubbornly.
+
+She went away declaring that she would strike him out of her will, and
+have nothing more to do with him.
+
+Yet in a few days' time, Barbara told Damaris that there was no
+question of his leaving his aunt's, and that she was as good friends
+with him as ever.
+
+"He will be within easy reach of Lord Ennismore, and can ride over
+every day. Mrs. Bonnycott is like that. She raises a rumpus, and
+subsides as soon as she recovers her breath."
+
+
+Stuart did not come over to the Hall so often now, and both Barbara and
+Damaris missed him.
+
+He and Lord Ennismore meant business; and plans and prospectuses for
+the model village were promptly drawn up. Both men thought and acted
+quickly.
+
+One day, Lord Ennismore arrived over and showed Barbara the completed
+plans. Every detail had been worked out, and Barbara gasped at the
+rapidity with which it had all been done.
+
+"You'll run up the village like the Americans," she said laughingly;
+"and yet I think the English labourer will keep you back. You won't
+move him quickly, and both you and Stuart must reserve a good stock of
+patience for when you come to deal with them."
+
+"Do you know that people have got ear of it, and I have already fifty
+applications for my cottages."
+
+"Not fifty disabled soldiers?"
+
+"No; a few others have thought fit to apply, being relatives of
+disabled soldiers. Two or three widows want to come. But my village is
+for married couples—and I make no exceptions."
+
+Damaris took a great interest in the scheme. Sir Mark laughed at it, as
+did many of the neighbouring gentry. Barbara approved of it, and her
+advice and sympathy were very welcome to both Lord Ennismore and Stuart.
+
+
+Then Mrs. Dashwood returned to the village with her little boy, and
+Damaris was not long in renewing her acquaintance with her.
+
+She spent a long day at the Rectory soon after her return, and told her
+of the talk she had had with Mrs. Patch.
+
+"It has made a big change in my life," Damaris said. "I have been
+longing to talk to some one about it. Aunt Barbara would not
+understand. I am always shy of speaking to her about serious things,
+but it seems the most natural thing in the world when am I with you."
+
+"That's as it should be," said Mrs. Dashwood, with her charming smile,
+"for it is what matters most to us."
+
+"And I'm longing to talk to you about my life," went on Damaris
+earnestly. "You know, in London, I felt almost in prison—I could do
+nothing, go nowhere. Here it is different, my grandfather is so good to
+me. He is always saying he wants me to enjoy myself; but I feel I am
+leading a very idle lazy life at present. I don't want to circle round
+myself. I want to do something really useful—something for God. What
+can I do?"
+
+"Are you looking about for a big thing, or would you be content to do
+the little things close at hand?"
+
+"I think I should like a big thing best," said Damaris frankly.
+
+"Why not begin with small things? Take a Sunday class and talk to the
+children about the love of our Lord for them? Take one or two of our
+sick people in your charge and visit them and talk to them, and don't
+be afraid to pray with them. I can give you lots of work. My husband is
+not strong, as you know, and I love to imagine myself his curate."
+
+Damaris did not look satisfied.
+
+"You don't know what a longing I have to go out into the world and
+work?" she said. "All through the war, I had to sit still and see and
+read about all the splendid work that other girls were doing. And I
+am not really wanted at the Hall—Aunt Barbara does the housekeeping
+and helps grandfather with some of his accounts. They are very good to
+me—but they don't really want me."
+
+"And what work would you like to do?"
+
+"I don't know. I want you to tell me. I don't think I could be a
+missionary, for I am so stupid at languages."
+
+"We must think about it. You young things always want to start out
+at once and attack giants! Meanwhile, till this big bit of work is
+developed, will you take a Sunday class and help me a little in the
+village?"
+
+"Yes; I will do my best. You will help me, I know."
+
+Damaris found that with Mrs. Dashwood at home there was always plenty
+going on. She started her class and helped as much as she could in
+village matters.
+
+Barbara made no comment. As she had truly said to Damaris, her motto
+was, "Live and let live." She and her father were hunting now; and
+Damaris saw little of them on their hunting days.
+
+Sir Mark had wanted to give her a horse, but at present Damaris was shy
+of learning to ride. She had never been accustomed to horses and was
+nervous of them. Her grandfather told her when the hunting season was
+over, he would take her in hand himself and teach her how to ride.
+
+And Damaris was very happy in her quiet way. She rather enjoyed the
+days when she had the Hall to herself. Sometimes Eddie Dashwood came
+up and spent the day with her. More often she went to the Rectory. And
+when she was not busy, she would take the dog out for a run over the
+common, and thoroughly enjoy herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+BARBARA'S ENGAGEMENT
+
+AUTUMN gave place to winter. November was a wet cold month, then
+December came in with a long spell of frost, and all hunting was
+stopped. Barbara was more at home, and there were many days when she
+and Damaris sat in deep armchairs over cheery wood fires occupied with
+their books and needlework.
+
+Upon one of these afternoons, Damaris suddenly looked up and said—
+
+"Aunt Barbara, I want to talk to you. I am very happy here—don't
+think I am not—but it really is too idle a life for me. Would you and
+grandfather think it dreadful of me if I went away and did some work? I
+want to do something. Of course, I should like to feel that this was my
+home, and that I could come and go as I liked. But, you see, I am not
+needed, am I? I just eat and sleep and have a comfortable time, and I
+want to do more with my life than that!"
+
+Barbara looked at her in silence for a moment, then she said—
+
+"Is this some sudden thought? I expect Mrs. Dashwood has been trying to
+convert you."
+
+Damaris coloured up at once.
+
+"Mrs. Dashwood advises me to stay where I am for the present."
+
+"That is good advice." There was another silence, then Barbara said,
+"What kind of work do you want to take up? Nursing? Slumming? Religious
+work, or merely philanthropical?"
+
+Damaris hesitated. Then, with an effort, she said—
+
+"I see things differently to what I did, Aunt Barbara. I want to do
+religious work if I can. I have wanted to be one of the world's workers
+for a long time. I have never done anything all these years but live
+for myself; now I want to do something better."
+
+"I am afraid father won't approve. He is old-fashioned in his ideas. I
+wanted to do something for the Red Cross during the war, but he set his
+face against it, and I could not well leave him. You had better speak
+to him about it after dinner. Of course I know most girls have got this
+craze for work away from their homes. I wonder you did not start it
+after your uncles' deaths."
+
+"I did not understand things as I do now," said Damaris.
+
+"Oh, well, if it's religious conviction, I've nothing to say," said
+Barbara bluntly. "As far as I'm concerned, you could go to-morrow.
+But having gone through all this fuss of finding your relations, and
+settling down with them, it seems funny that you should want to be up
+and off again."
+
+Tears crowded into Damaris's eyes.
+
+"I suppose grandfather would think it ungrateful of me."
+
+"Oh, I don't know. Talk to him about it. I have nothing to say in the
+matter."
+
+Barbara would say no more.
+
+But before dinner, Damaris told her that she did not think she would
+speak to her grandfather that night.
+
+"It is cowardly of me, but I would not like to hurt his feelings.
+And as I have formulated no ideas yet, I will wait until I hear of
+something."
+
+"All right," said Barbara. "I shall say nothing. You may be certain of
+that."
+
+
+But, about ten days afterwards, Lord Ennismore came to lunch. And in
+the afternoon, he and Barbara went for a walk together.
+
+When she came in, she shut herself up in her boudoir for an hour, then
+sent for Damaris.
+
+"I want to speak to you. Are you still panting for a busier life?"
+
+Damaris smiled.
+
+"I am trying not to pant for it, but to wait for it," she said.
+
+"Well, you know I'm not a person who beats about the bush," Barbara
+said, "so I may as well tell you that I have been worried for some
+years now by Lord Ennismore to marry him. I have refused him again
+and again. First and foremost, because I do not want to become a
+stepmother. I hated mine so much that I fear old scores will be paid
+off on me by his daughters. Secondly, because I could not leave my
+father. Perhaps I should put that as my first reason. Now it has struck
+me that if you will take my place and look after him and the house, I
+am free to go. You will not feel then that you are leading a useless
+existence, for I can tell you it takes a bit of doing. I'm perfectly
+certain there'll be ructions between you and father if you want to go
+slumming or anything of that sort. If you'll content yourself with
+doing my job, I'll be off. I'm not only thinking of myself, but Horace
+has been wasting all his years waiting for me; and now he has this
+village scheme on, I know I could help him to run it smoothly. Take
+your time to think it over."
+
+Damaris felt bewildered. Her aunt's matter of fact way of talking
+generally amused her; now it almost stunned her.
+
+"Oh!" she said. "It will be a heavy responsibility. How grandfather
+will miss you! I can never, never take your place! But of course I have
+no right to make any objections. I will do my best. I don't want time
+to think it over. How can I say no? I'm not afraid of the housekeeping
+part of it—I had plenty of experience in that way at my uncles'—but I
+am afraid of grandfather. You do so much estate business with him. Will
+he be patient with me till I get into the way of it?"
+
+"I can soon give you the hang of that," said Barbara. "You must spend
+an hour every morning with me when I'm interviewing Blake our agent."
+
+"I'll do my very best. Oh, Aunt Barbara, may I say how glad I am for
+you."
+
+Barbara laughed.
+
+"The romance has gone, Damaris. I am too old to enjoy the thought of
+the change. But Horace and I know each other through and through, and
+we shall get along very comfortably."
+
+"Poor Mr. Gore!" murmured Damaris.
+
+"Now, who has been stuffing you with that nonsense?" said Barbara, a
+little shortly.
+
+"Mrs. Bonnycott told me he was fond of you."
+
+"Ridiculous! Mr. Gore is only fond of his insects and birds. We are
+good friends—but my love of hunting and his dislike of it would bar any
+close intercourse together. Well, we've settled everything up, and now
+I'll write to Horace and have a talk with father."
+
+Barbara went away whistling softly to herself, and Damaris slipped up
+to her own room, where she sat down before her fire, and surveyed with
+dismay the destruction of her hopes.
+
+"It must be right. Aunt Barbara has spent all her youth in doing what
+she asks me to do now. But it isn't a high ideal of service. I wonder
+what Mrs. Dashwood will say. I am afraid she will not pity me. She
+always puts home ties and duties first, and says God's will and work
+are foremost there."
+
+Her impulse was to go straight off to the Rectory then and there and
+tell Mrs. Dashwood everything, but she knew she could not do that, till
+she had her aunt's leave to do so. So she did what was a much better
+thing—she took the whole matter to God upon her knees, and asked to be
+made willing to do His will—even if she were to be debarred a life of
+active service in the mission field at home or abroad.
+
+Sir Mark took the news with great equanimity of soul.
+
+"I'm glad you're going to make Ennismore happy at last," he said.
+"You've been long enough making up your mind! And what the dickens I
+shall do without you I don't know! But Damaris and I will pull along
+somehow."
+
+"Oh, yes," cried Damaris eagerly; "I mean to do all I can to fill Aunt
+Barbara's place. And she won't be living very far away from us, will
+she? If I do get into difficulties, I shall just go over to her."
+
+"Of course—of course. You must learn how to housekeep before she leaves
+us."
+
+"I am not afraid of that. I kept house for my uncles for so many years—"
+
+"Tut!" exclaimed Sir Mark hastily. "Don't compare that city life of
+yours to ours here!"
+
+Damaris flushed hotly.
+
+"We had a big house, and a good many maids," she said, with a little
+resentment in her tone.
+
+"I don't wish to hear anything about that time," said Sir Mark, still
+irritable.
+
+"There is nothing to be ashamed of in it!" Damaris said, and she
+quitted the room as she spoke.
+
+"Dash the girl!" exclaimed Sir Mark. "She's strutting away with her
+head up like a little turkey-cock."
+
+"Father, you must try and not abuse those uncles of hers," said
+Barbara. "Remember they gave her a home from the time she was a baby."
+
+"City people! City people!" muttered Sir Mark. "And hadn't the grace to
+leave the child a penny."
+
+
+When next he saw Damaris, she came up to him in a pretty contrite
+fashion.
+
+"Forgive me, grandfather, for getting so hot, but I must be loyal
+towards my uncles. They did a great deal for me."
+
+"Yes, yes; we'll say no more about it, my dear."
+
+The little cloud passed, but Barbara, in her straightforward fashion,
+spoke to Damaris about it.
+
+"Don't vex your grandfather by mentioning your father's relations. It
+only upsets him and does no good."
+
+"But he seems to think them beneath his notice. And they were not.
+They were courteous and kind and thorough gentlemen. Do I show traces
+of vulgarity? They brought me up. I don't feel inferior to you; and I
+shall never, never look down upon my own father."
+
+Barbara smiled at the heat of her tones. "You're so young," she said.
+"Nobody wants you to look down upon your father's people; but we simply
+don't care to hear about them—at least father does not. You are quite
+right to be loyal to your uncles' memories, but don't discuss them with
+us. You will find, as you go through life, that it's best to make for
+peace, and avoid anything that raises dust. And I don't want you to
+forget that father has a weak heart, and that his doctor has warned us
+against letting him excite himself."
+
+"I did not know that," said Damaris, penitently. "But why do you let
+him hunt?"
+
+"He would break his heart if he did not. He hunts quietly, and a
+certain amount of exercise is good for him."
+
+
+Barbara's engagement made a great stir in the neighbourhood.
+
+Stuart arrived over at once, and made his advent known by sitting down
+at the piano and playing the Wedding March in a very spirited fashion.
+
+When he saw Damaris, he shook his head at her.
+
+"Ah! You're the cause of Barbara's resolve to leave us. I shall lose my
+lifelong friend now, for I'm not very fond of married women, especially
+in the first years of married life. I consider she is forsaking me as
+well as her father. Do you feel equal to taking on Barbara's friends as
+well as her household duties?"
+
+"I don't feel equal to any of it," said Damaris in a forlorn tone. "I
+mean to do my best, but it will be a poor best, I'm afraid. I wish you
+would play something to comfort me. That Wedding March makes me feel
+miserable."
+
+She and he were alone in the library. She and Barbara had been upstairs
+together, doing some accounts in Damaris's boudoir, and Barbara had
+sent her down when she heard the sound of the piano.
+
+"Keep him quiet till I come. I must write a note before I see him."
+
+So Stuart began one of his soothing melodies, and Damaris sat in a low
+chair by the fire, with her hands loosely clasped in her lap, and her
+eyes heavy with thought. His keen quick eye passed over her dainty
+little figure, and then he spoke.
+
+"I don't know that I want you for a friend. I have too many."
+
+Damaris started; then, realising what he had said, she laughed.
+
+"It takes two to make a compact of friendship," she said, "so your
+statement is premature."
+
+"Oh, I know it sounds uncivil, and if you only saw into my mind, you
+would know it was anything but that. Friendship is very hollow and
+uncertain, and most unsatisfactory."
+
+"Very well, we'll have nothing to do with it," said Damaris derisively.
+
+"You sound rather nasty. I want something better than friendship with
+you."
+
+He drowned his last words in some passionate chords, then broke into
+some weird Russian fugues, and Damaris listened with a fascination
+which took her entirely away from herself and surroundings. Then
+Barbara came in and the spell was broken.
+
+Stuart left the piano, and he and Barbara pulled two deep lounge chairs
+before the fire and commenced discussing the model village. Damaris
+left them. She had a good many heart sinkings about the future, but
+bravely kept them to herself.
+
+Christmas came, and with it a great deal of entertaining at the Hall.
+Sir Mark's eldest son and family all came to stay. Maurice, the naval
+son, was home on leave, and Walter came down from town.
+
+Damaris felt almost bewildered at first amongst all her new relations.
+But their frank kindly acceptance of her soon put her at ease. The
+only one who held a little aloof from her was Mrs. Herbert Murray. She
+was a very pretty young woman and accustomed to much attention and
+homage; but she was not as a rule friendly with young girls, and she
+rather resented Damaris's presence there. When she heard of Barbara's
+engagement, she said rather sharply—
+
+"I think Herbert and I had better come down for a bit when you leave
+your father. He must have somebody responsible here."
+
+"Oh, Damaris is going to look after him," said Barbara placidly.
+
+"That child! She looks like a schoolgirl! And from what I hear has had
+little opportunity for mixing in decent society."
+
+"She has a clever head-piece of her own," said Barbara; "so spare
+yourself anxiety on that score, Ella."
+
+"And you are going to make her mistress of the house?"
+
+"Naturally, she will be, when I leave."
+
+Ella said no more. She was an ambitious woman, and longed for the time
+when she herself would reign at the Hall.
+
+Now she keenly criticised Damaris's every word and action, and the girl
+was conscious of it at once, and kept out of the elder woman's way as
+much as possible.
+
+But she loved her little girl and boys, and was the greatest friends
+with them, taking them out upon the common for walks, and playing games
+with them in the old nursery at the top of the house.
+
+
+It was the last evening of their stay. The big drawing-room was lighted
+up and full of guests, as Barbara had had a big dinner party, and
+Stuart had just been entertaining them with his music. Damaris was
+standing by his side, putting some music by, when Mrs. Herbert's clear
+voice came to them very distinctly. She was talking to a Lady Maria
+Leslie, one of the greatest gossips of the county.
+
+"It's a mercy she takes after her mother—that was the item which
+appealed to Sir Mark—her father was a mere nobody; and she has been
+brought up by her father's people in the city. I tell Barbara it's a
+risky experiment bringing her forward in the way she does; one never
+feels sure of her. And I did hear she had had a very unsatisfactory
+love entanglement before she came here."
+
+Damaris's cheeks flushed hotly, and such a fire shot into her eyes
+that for one instant Stuart thought she was going to lose control of
+herself. She met his glance, and her lips compressed in straight tense
+lines.
+
+"Idle words never hurt," he said.
+
+"They hurt more than a blow," retorted Damaris.
+
+Then the fire died down in her eyes.
+
+"I must live it down," she said; "my grandfather talks in that way
+sometimes—at least, he seems to think he has rescued me from a very
+low-class life and position. And as it is not a fact, it makes me very
+angry."
+
+Stuart looked sympathetic. Then he said lightly—
+
+"We've all something to bear, haven't we? It's good for us—otherwise we
+shouldn't be disciplined in self-control and endurance. Now my cross
+is that people will not take me seriously. I had a battle-royal to-day
+with a self-complacent builder, who kept saying, 'You will have your
+little joke, sir!' I could thankfully have throttled him, for I was
+bursting with savage earnestness."
+
+Damaris smiled. Her moment of passion was over. When, a few minutes
+after, Mrs. Herbert spoke to her, she answered her serenely and sweetly.
+
+But Stuart's quick understanding and sympathy brought a warmth to her
+heart. And then he said good-night to her, and added sotto voce—
+
+"Cheer up! We all know Mrs. Herbert, and she goes to-morrow."
+
+She responded instantly—
+
+"I shall forget all about it. What a nice understanding kind of person
+you are!"
+
+And when he had gone she said to herself—
+
+"I wonder why he said he didn't want to be my friend. No others have
+shown themselves as friendly as he."
+
+The Christmas party broke up, and then, a couple of months later,
+Barbara's marriage took place. It was very quiet, but Damaris had her
+hands full. And when it was all over, she went up to her room and had
+a quiet cry. She knew every one would miss her aunt, she most of all.
+Barbara's quiet cheeriness, and strong firm decision of character made
+her a very efficient ruler. And when Damaris found herself left alone,
+it needed all her pluck and courage to take up the reins of government,
+and try to be the companion of her grandfather that her aunt had been.
+
+Mrs. Dashwood helped her very much at this juncture. She was so
+cheerfully confident that Damaris's duty was at home, and that her work
+for God lay there, that the girl herself came to believe it, and was
+content.
+
+It was not always easy sailing. Sir Mark was irritable and impatient
+when things went wrong.
+
+"If Barbara were here, it would not have happened," he would say. And
+there was often injustice in the complaint.
+
+On the whole, he and Damaris got on very well together. She learned
+to be patient with him when he was unreasonable and hot-tempered. He
+learnt to be patient with her when she was slow in comprehending his
+business matters.
+
+The old servants loved Damaris. She had no difficulty in managing her
+housekeeping. And when Barbara came over for a short visit after her
+honeymoon, she was satisfied that Damaris was supplying her place very
+competently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE SQUIRE'S ACCIDENT
+
+"GRANDFATHER, I want to ask you a favour."
+
+Damaris and Sir Mark were breakfasting together. It was a lovely
+morning, the beginning of April. It was hardly an opportune moment, for
+Sir Mark was always short-tempered when the hunting ceased, and he had
+taken his last run the day before.
+
+"What is it? More money?" he asked shortly.
+
+"Oh dear no! It is only to ask you if you will mind my having a friend
+to stay with me. I have heard from her, and she has been ill of the flu
+and has been ordered to the country to have a thorough rest."
+
+"We don't want the flu brought here."
+
+"Oh, she is well from that. I say a friend, but she's really a cousin;
+I have not known her for very long."
+
+"Now, look here, Damaris! What did I tell you about your father's
+relations? I'll have nothing to do with them. Most certainly I shall
+not have them here as our guests. I am surprised that you should ask
+such a thing!"
+
+"But why should you condemn her when you haven't seen her? I know you
+would like her. She is clever, and nice in every way."
+
+Sir Mark uttered an expletive which sounded like an oath; he thumped
+his fist down on the table, and grew almost purple in the face.
+Damaris, remembering her aunt's warnings that she was not to let him
+become excited, was filled with contrition.
+
+"I'm sorry, grandfather. I hoped you would let me have her. You will
+not mind, of course, if I get her lodgings in the village?"
+
+"She shall not enter this house; you quite understand? I'm master here,
+and I shall see that I'm obeyed."
+
+"I always mean to obey you," Damaris said gently.
+
+Sudden silence fell between them. Sir Mark's anger faded away as
+quickly as it came, but Damaris did not like to see the pinched
+grey shadows that stole over his face. He occupied himself with his
+newspaper and letters for the rest of the meal. When it was over,
+Damaris went swiftly round to him.
+
+"Please forgive me," she said sweetly.
+
+"All right; all right; but remember you are a Murray now, not a
+Hartbrook. I would you did not bear the name. It is loathsome to me."
+
+Damaris checked the sigh that rose within her. She could never
+get accustomed to hear her father's name slighted, and was keenly
+disappointed that she might not ask Nellie to the house. Miss Hardacre
+had written to her and told her how unwell Nellie was, and how she
+could not be persuaded to go away from town.
+
+Later in the day, she met Stuart when she was out with the dogs on
+the common. She did not often see him in the week. He and Barbara and
+Lord Ennismore were all working at the model village, and pushing the
+building on with all their might and main. But every Sunday Stuart came
+over to lunch. The Squire looked for him. He sat with him after lunch
+in the smoking-room till tea-time, then he attached himself to Damaris.
+They went to evening church together, and sometimes took a stroll
+before it.
+
+And Damaris began to look for his coming. He might say he did not want
+to be her friend, but he proved a very sympathetic listener, and a good
+comrade in the best sense of the word.
+
+Now, as he rode across the common, he pulled up at the sight of her.
+
+"Anything wrong?" he inquired, with a quick glance at her face.
+
+Damaris smiled, but her misty eyes betrayed her.
+
+"Nothing that matters," she said. "I only wanted something, and made
+grandfather angry by asking for it. Oh, I can tell you in a moment. A
+cousin of mine is ill and has nowhere to rest. She is not well off, and
+I thought of the empty rooms at the Hall, so comfortable and sunny, and
+longed to have her. Of course, as she is a Hartbrook, it is impossible.
+I shall try to get her lodgings in the village—only she is very
+proud—and she will persist in paying, and I did not want her to have
+any expenses."
+
+"If I see a way out of your difficulty, I'll drop you a line," said
+Stuart cheerfully.
+
+Damaris laughed. His bright face always did her good.
+
+"I don't think even you can help me in this case," she said.
+
+"Well, now, will you do something for me? Get the Squire to ask young
+Lancaster over to dine one night. He finds his evenings dull, and the
+Squire always likes young chaps about him."
+
+"I'll ask him, of course," said Damaris promptly. "I haven't met him
+yet. What is he like? And is he getting on at Fallerton? Does he like
+it there?"
+
+"He would if my dear aunt left him more alone. She bullies him a bit,
+and throws me at his head till he hates the sight of me."
+
+"Oh, I know. That is how I feel when grandfather quotes Aunt Barbara.
+And yet I really love her."
+
+They parted, and Damaris pursued her way.
+
+
+The next day came a note from Mrs. Bonnycott asking Damaris for
+Nellie's address.
+
+"I want help badly for a bazaar that I'm responsible for, and, from
+what I hear, your cousin would just suit me. I am going to ask her on a
+visit. I know I shall end my days by being in bondage to a tyrannical
+companion. I feel I want somebody to talk to when things go wrong. I
+really meant to have you, only you disappeared so quickly and then
+turned up in another guise."
+
+Damaris was astonished at Stuart's promptness in befriending her, but
+was very doubtful whether Nellie would accept such an invitation.
+
+However, in a few days' time, Nellie wrote to her saying that Mrs.
+Bonnycott had written her such an exceedingly kind letter that she
+could not refuse.
+
+"Of course, she does it for your sake," wrote Nellie. "Does she
+expect to see another Damaris walk in? I fear she will be grievously
+disappointed if she does. But I have accepted. I gather that I shall be
+on one side of a big common, and you the other. Shall we meet in the
+middle of it one day?"
+
+Damaris felt intensely relieved when she read this letter. Then she
+cheerfully tackled her grandfather about Geoffrey Lancaster.
+
+Sir Mark acquiesced at once.
+
+"Yes; ask him over any evening. I have a great respect for his father,
+and the lad is all right—only kicked against making up drugs and sawing
+bones and all the rest of it. Small blame to him!"
+
+So young Geoffrey Lancaster came to the Hall, and, as was only natural,
+fell violently in love with Damaris. She was amused with his open
+admiration at first, then she got uneasy and annoyed. Whenever he had
+leisure, he would appear at the Hall. Damaris took him to task one day.
+
+"Do you know this is the third time you have been over this week? Do
+you find you can leave your work so often?"
+
+"But I had to come over here to have my horse shod."
+
+"You have a smithy at Fallerton."
+
+"Old Luke is dotty, and his son is laid up. Don't you want to see me?"
+
+"I don't want you to fail Mrs. Bonnycott."
+
+"I am sure Maitland used to be over here pretty often. He and Lady
+Ennismore were always together. I used to think they would make a match
+of it."
+
+"It's getting such a busy time on the farms," said Damaris.
+
+"Yes; I'm up and out at five every morning. And I can tell you I do all
+the work and enjoy it. After London, it's heaven to be able to breathe
+again. Will you come for a ride? Sir Mark wants you to be at home in
+the saddle, doesn't he? I've ridden over. Let me tell them to bring
+your horse round, and we'll go over the common."
+
+Damaris yielded. She had been out with her grandfather several times,
+and he had been very pleased with her progress. She found she was not
+nervous, and as her horse was quiet and steady she felt confidence in
+him.
+
+Now, when she was mounted and going easily down the drive with
+Geoffrey, she realised how much she enjoyed it.
+
+"I never saw any beginner sit a horse so easily as you do," Geoffrey
+exclaimed.
+
+"Ah, wait till he breaks into trot!" she said, laughing. "But I want
+to learn to ride. I shall never hunt, but I want to ride out with my
+grandfather."
+
+They chatted together about various things, and Stuart's name was
+mentioned.
+
+Geoffrey's eyes glowed when he spoke of him.
+
+"I owe him a debt I can never pay. There isn't a man in a thousand who
+would have taken hold of me as he did. He never talks or jaws at a
+fellow. He just acts. I can tell you I was pretty well at the end of
+everything, in town. I loathed my work, I loathed myself, and then he
+came along, bucked me up, put life and hope into me again, and never
+rested till he had handed his own job over to me—the very billet that
+I'm fitted for, I consider. Certainly the one I liked above all else!"
+
+"He's always doing those kind of things Aunt Barbara says," said
+Damaris. "I know he has befriended me many a time."
+
+"Who wouldn't?" exclaimed Geoffrey. "That is no feather in his cap, but
+with me it was different."
+
+They were riding past a clump of blackthorns all in full blossom, and
+Damaris reined up her horse.
+
+"Oh!" she cried. "I must have a branch of this lovely stuff."
+
+"Look after your reins," Geoffrey called out.
+
+In reaching up, she had dropped her reins. Her horse swerved; then,
+before she could reach them, he had broken away in a canter, and the
+next moment Damaris was thrown. Happily she fell on soft turf, but
+Geoffrey had an awful moment before he was able to reach her.
+
+"Damaris! Damaris!" he cried. "Are you hurt? Oh, speak!"
+
+For a moment, Damaris seemed stunned. Then she recovered herself and
+sat up. She smiled up into his anxious face.
+
+"I have hurt my arm—but no bones broken. I assure you I am all right.
+Can you catch Firefly? He is munching the grass over there."
+
+"Oh, blow Firefly! It is you I am thinking about."
+
+He had dismounted, and was helping her to rise as he spoke.
+
+"There, you see, I'm all right. I've only twisted or sprained my right
+wrist. Do catch Firefly. And I'll mount him again at once and go home.
+It was all my own fault. I'm not accustomed to riding, you know."
+
+Geoffrey soon captured Firefly, and assisted Damaris to mount him. Then
+they rode home very slowly, and Geoffrey astounded Damaris by proposing
+to her on the way.
+
+"I know you haven't seen much of me, but a day was long enough to show
+me where my heart was. And your accident has precipitated matters. I
+feel I must have the right to take care of you. It was horrible when I
+saw you pitch over your horse's head. I know my prospects are not much;
+but there are good agencies going and I daresay the Squire will help
+me, unless he kicks me out of the house for daring to speak to you. If
+I haven't money to offer you—I have a heart, and I'll work to get a
+home, if only you give me the least bit of hope."
+
+"I am afraid I can't do that, Mr. Lancaster," said Damaris gravely but
+sweetly. "I am so sorry you have broken our friendship by speaking so.
+I could never be to you anything more than a friend. I am quite sure of
+this, and hope you'll understand. And I thank you very much. I'm sorry
+if my answer will disappoint you."
+
+"Disappoint me!" cried poor Geoffrey. "It has cast me from heaven into
+hell. I've been too rash—I had better have waited."
+
+"I'm afraid if you had waited twenty years, my answer would have been
+the same."
+
+Geoffrey gave a groan.
+
+"Is somebody else in the way? Maitland? Oh, forgive me—I don't know
+what I'm saying!"
+
+Damaris's cheeks burned. Her arm was paining her, and she longed to be
+alone.
+
+They rode back to the Hall in silence. Geoffrey was too dejected to say
+a word. He left her at the door. Damaris tried to say something, but
+could not. She had only known him such a short time that he had not
+only surprised her, but annoyed her by his sudden proposal.
+
+"He's a mere boy; and how dare he insinuate—" she murmured to herself.
+"When I think of the two of them, and the difference in age and
+character and personality, it makes me furious!"
+
+She wondered if she had inadvertently encouraged him by her friendly
+intercourse with him. She had liked him and felt sorry for him. He
+had no mother and rather a dreary home; his father was bitterly
+disappointed over his failure to pass his medical exams., and hardly
+took any notice of him.
+
+Geoffrey almost lived at Fallerton Manor. Mrs. Bonnycott insisted upon
+a good deal of supervision of her property, and did not yet believe in
+his capability to act alone. Stuart was the only one who believed in
+him; but Stuart was much engrossed with the model village, and was away
+the greater part of the week.
+
+
+In two days' time, Damaris met her cousin, and they were genuinely
+pleased to see each other again. Nellie looked white and very thin,
+but she told Damaris that she found the Fallerton air life-giving. She
+had made a good impression upon Mrs. Bonnycott, who said to Damaris
+directly she saw her—
+
+"She'll do, my dear! A real sensible girl! Wears low heels and looks
+you in the face when she speaks to you!"
+
+When the girls were alone, Nellie said—
+
+"She's an old dear. I always do like old ladies, as you know. And,
+of course, I'm in the lap of luxury, which is foreign to my Spartan
+nature, but is pleasing, all the same."
+
+"And what do you think of Mr. Maitland—'The idle rich young man who
+plays at farming'? Do you remember how you talked in London about men
+and their purposeless lives?"
+
+"He plays divinely!" said Nellie with a little smile. "He came in late
+last night and played in the dark. Mrs. Bonnycott let me prop the
+library door open to listen. We were sitting there together, and he
+went into the music-room. I quite enjoyed it. Well, he isn't asleep!
+and is awfully keen on his village. The other young man puzzles me. The
+first day I came, he was a jolly happy boy. Two days ago, he returned
+from a ride, and has been in the depths of melancholy ever since."
+
+Damaris said nothing, but Nellie's sharp eyes detected a slight
+confusion in her manner.
+
+"He told me he often sees you," Nellie went on. "I hope you don't keep
+him away from his work. Is his melancholy due to the hurt you received
+in your arm the other day?"
+
+"Oh, that's nothing. I've only strained the muscles. No, if you must
+know, Nellie, he wants me to be more than friends with him, and I
+cannot. He is taking it hardly, but I really gave him no encouragement."
+
+"The ridiculous youth! How angry your grandfather would be! Is he
+ambitious for you, Damaris? This boy hasn't a penny to bless himself
+with. I'm glad to know the reason of his sulkiness. I'll try to
+brighten him up. How do you get on with your grandfather?"
+
+"Very well, on the whole." A little flush came into her cheeks. "I had
+better tell you, Nellie. He still hates my father's family. He wouldn't
+let me ask you to the house. He won't even let anyone call me Miss
+Hartbrook, he hates the name so! I am 'Miss Damaris' to the servants.
+It is quite a mania with him. This is one of my trials."
+
+Nellie looked grave.
+
+"Does he know I have come to stay here?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I mentioned it. But you will understand if I can't ask you to
+the house."
+
+"Oh, that's all right. I'm glad you told me. How antiquated and foolish
+these old country squires are. Well—we can meet on the common, can't
+we? And I mean to be busy; Mrs. Bonnycott will keep me at it, I know."
+
+They spent a couple of happy hours together, and agreed to meet again
+before long.
+
+
+A week later, Sir Mark met with an accident out riding. Unlike Damaris,
+he did not escape so easily. He was trying a new horse, and insisted on
+taking it out himself. Damaris stood on the terrace, and felt a little
+uneasy as she watched it kicking and plunging.
+
+"I don't believe Aunt Barbara would let you go off alone," she said,
+trying to speak lightly. "Won't you take Dawkins with you?"
+
+"I am not in my dotage yet," was the testy reply; "when I can't manage
+a horse, I'll take to my bed. Run indoors, child, and don't worry me.
+He's a hard-mouthed brute, I'm afraid."
+
+He applied his spurs lightly, and his horse plunged down the drive at a
+reckless pace.
+
+Damaris felt uneasy, and Dawkins, the old groom, said doubtfully—
+
+"The master has got a handful there; but if any one will tame him, he
+will."
+
+Damaris went indoors, but she could settle to nothing.
+
+"It's so bad for his heart," she said to herself. "I wish he would come
+back."
+
+But the afternoon wore away, and he did not return.
+
+At tea-time she became so anxious, that she sent off Dawkins in search
+of him.
+
+
+When seven o'clock arrived and he did not return, she was convinced
+that some accident had happened. And then she heard the sound of hoofs
+outside on the gravel, and, running to the door, found Dawkins holding
+a note out to the old butler.
+
+"Have you found the Squire?" she asked Dawkins sharply.
+
+"Yes, miss. He's had a spill—but nothing very serious. He's laid up at
+Fallerton Manor, and the doctor has been and says he must stay there
+for the night. The horse is there too."
+
+"I must go to him at once!"
+
+But when she opened Mrs. Bonnycott's note, she found she was not wanted.
+
+   "MY DEAR DAMARIS,—I have your grandfather safe and sound in bed in
+my best spare room. No bones broken; but he had a tumble and a heart
+attack. Your cousin found him and brought him here. Dr. Lancaster has
+been, and says he can return home to-morrow, so don't be anxious. He
+sends you his love, and tells you there is no need to worry or come
+over. He will be home, if all is well, to-morrow morning. No time for
+more. We will take good care of him.
+
+                         "Yours affectionately,
+
+                                      "KITTY BONNYCOTT."
+
+Damaris had dinner alone, and spent a miserable evening. She wondered
+if her aunt would have been content to stay at home, or whether she
+would not have gone to her father at once.
+
+She had a sleepless night, and was disappointed to hear nothing by the
+postman.
+
+But at ten o'clock, just as she had finished her breakfast, Stuart
+walked in.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+A DIFFICULT TIME
+
+DAMARIS welcomed him eagerly.
+
+"Oh, how good of you! How pleased I am to see you! You always seem to
+turn up when I am in the depths. How is grandfather? I am so anxious."
+
+"Your face tells me that. Cheer up! He's as well as can be expected.
+What a rash old chap he is! I've advised him to send the horse straight
+back to the dealers. He is not fit for an elderly man with a weak
+heart."
+
+"Yes, it's his heart that troubles me. Is he really bad?"
+
+"Better this morning; he didn't have a very good night. What a trump
+your cousin is; she sat up all night with him. Lancaster won't let him
+move from bed till to-morrow."
+
+"Then he isn't coming home to-day?" Damaris said in a forlorn voice.
+
+Stuart looked at her. She stood at the open window, looking very fresh
+and sweet in a cream serge skirt and silk shirt. Her lips quivered a
+little as she spoke, and Stuart felt a sudden longing to take her into
+his arms and comfort her. But he answered in his usual light-hearted
+fashion—
+
+"Oh, that's nothing! What would you feel if I told you he was laid up
+for a couple of months? And if you put on your hat, we'll walk right
+across the common together, and you can see the Squire with your own
+eyes."
+
+Damaris's face brightened.
+
+"I'll come at once. If I can see him, I shall feel better. And ought
+not Barbara to know?"
+
+"I'll tell her when I get over. She's coming out to the village this
+morning. I'm meeting Ennismore there at twelve. As a matter of fact,
+Aunt Kitty sent the groom over last night to give her the news. And if
+she is the least anxious, she'll be over there by this time."
+
+In a few moments, they were walking down the drive.
+
+To distract her mind, Stuart began to talk about his work and his model
+village. Damaris listened with real interest. Just before they reached
+Fallerton, he said—
+
+"Have you and Geoffrey quarrelled? I thought you were such good
+friends. I suggested that he should ride over this morning and reassure
+your mind about the Squire, but he did not seem to see it."
+
+Damaris's little head was raised at once.
+
+"I think he was over here too much—neglecting his work."
+
+Stuart laughed.
+
+"Youth will gravitate towards youth."
+
+"You might be my grandfather," said Damaris a little mischievously.
+
+"Do I speak like him?"
+
+"Sometimes. You are apt to treat me like a child."
+
+"You are not very old yet. I only speak as a friend."
+
+"But," said Damaris quickly, "you told me you never wanted to be my
+friend."
+
+Stuart threw up his hands and laughed. "So I did! What a memory you
+have."
+
+"It rather hurt my feelings."
+
+He stopped still and looked at her.
+
+For an instant Damaris's heart beat rapidly. What was he going to say?
+Then she continued, talking hurriedly—
+
+"How do you like my cousin? I'm very fond of her. I wish grandfather
+would know her."
+
+"He does. She practically saved his life. You will hear all about it
+from her."
+
+They had crossed the common, and Nellie met them at the door of the
+Manor.
+
+She took Damaris straight to the morning-room, in which she helped Mrs.
+Bonnycott with her correspondence and did all sorts of odd jobs.
+
+"You can't go up just yet to Sir Mark, for he has fallen asleep, and
+it is so important for him to sleep that we must not disturb him. Mrs.
+Bonnycott has gone out into the village with her dog."
+
+"Then we can have a good talk. Do tell me all about it, Nellie. I hear
+you helped him after his accident. Tell me everything."
+
+"There isn't much to tell. I was going across the common not very far
+from here, but in rather an unfrequented part, when a rider suddenly
+passed me. Of course, it was your grandfather. It struck me that he
+was trying to pull in his horse very ineffectually; and then suddenly
+the horse plunged and reared, and Sir Mark fell. He recovered himself
+instantly, and was upon his feet again, gripping the bridle. I came
+up, and noticed that he looked awfully ill. His face was blue-grey and
+drawn with pain. Directly he saw me, he cried out—
+
+"'Here, young woman, catch hold of this brute. He won't hurt you. I've
+given him a good gallop, and he ought to be tired out.'
+
+"I caught hold of the reins at once. I've always been fond of horses,
+and I suppose they know it. Anyhow, directly I began stroking his nose,
+he stopped dancing round.
+
+"'You are ill, sir,' I said.
+
+"And your grandfather gasped—
+
+"'It's my confounded heart! I shall be all right in a minute; but I
+can't mount till this attack is over.'
+
+"'You mustn't mount at all,' I said decidedly. 'We're not very far from
+Mrs. Bonnycott's. I will lead the horse, if you think you can follow
+slowly on foot; or will you sit down and wait here, and I'll take the
+horse on and come back for you?'
+
+"'I'll rest a bit, and come on. I know my way,' he said.
+
+"He's a plucky old gentleman, isn't he? I saw he was in agony, but
+I could do nothing. I longed to be able to ride, for I should have
+galloped away for assistance at once. But I hurried as much as I could.
+I made him comfortable at the foot of a tree, left him my golf cape to
+sit upon, as I know the old have to be wary of getting rheumatism. I
+was never more thankful in my life than when I got my fiery steed safe
+into the stable and left him in charge of the groom. Then I made them
+turn out the low pony-trap with lightning speed, and the groom came
+with me.
+
+"We found your grandfather rather bad. I'd brought some brandy in a
+flask, and we gave him some, and then we lifted him into the trap and
+drove him gently here. Mrs. Bonnycott was a trump—didn't fuss—sent
+for the doctor, and we got him to bed, where he has been ever since.
+Dr. Lancaster says he might have collapsed altogether. He had been
+straining his heart a good bit, trying to manage his steed, and then
+this attack followed. He had another attack last night, and I'm afraid
+he won't be right for some time. But he's wild to get home, and the
+doctor says he must be humoured as much as possible. It's rather funny
+I should be the one to find him, eh? I don't think he knows who I am;
+but he and I are quite pals—I sat up with him—and he turns to me as if
+I'm a nurse."
+
+"Poor grandfather! Oh, I hope it's nothing serious. I know his heart
+has been weak for a long time."
+
+"Dr. Lancaster says he ought to have given up hunting long ago. He
+warned him against it. He said he was trying to kill himself. But he
+told me—and I think you ought to know—that your grandfather will never
+be able to ride or hunt again. 'He's done for himself at last,' he
+said."
+
+"Oh, Nellie, how awful!" Damaris's cheeks blanched. "If he knows it,
+the news is enough to kill him."
+
+"But he doesn't know it, and we needn't tell him at present."
+
+Damaris was almost stunned by the bad news. She knew better than Nellie
+how large a part of her grandfather's life was devoted to his horses.
+And she hardly dared think about his feelings when he knew his fate.
+
+She talked on to Nellie in a desultory sort of fashion. Her heart and
+thoughts were with her grandfather upon his sick bed.
+
+At last, Nellie left her, saying—
+
+"Brown, Mrs. Bonnycott's maid, is sitting with him—she's very useful in
+illness. I will see if he is still sleeping."
+
+She returned almost immediately.
+
+"Come along. He is awake and would like to see you. Be quite cheerful,
+won't you?"
+
+Damaris did not feel very cheerful, but she managed to give Sir Mark
+one of her sweet smiles as she stooped to kiss him.
+
+"It is bad luck," she said, "but you look very comfortable."
+
+Sir Mark tried to raise his head, then dropped it on the pillow again.
+
+"This fool of a doctor is drugging me—I know he is—and it keeps me
+drowsy. Listen, Damaris. I'm coming back to-morrow, but I want you to
+see Blake to-morrow morning as usual, and tell him that I've considered
+Benton's offer to take over the six-acre field at Long Corner, and I'll
+let him have it."
+
+"Yes, grandfather; and don't worry about anything. I'll carry on till
+you come home."
+
+"And tell Dawkins to exercise Mercury daily. I broke him in a bit, but
+he needs a lot of riding." Then, after a pause, he said, "Are you alone
+in the room?"
+
+Nellie had been standing just inside the door. She now promptly
+disappeared.
+
+"Yes, we're alone," Damaris replied.
+
+"A wonderful sensible girl is staying here—who is she? For clear common
+sense she beats any woman I've known. She tackled Mercury as if she'd
+been used to horses all her life, and yet she can't ride. And she's
+nursed and looked after me like a professional. A nice voice too—low
+and clear and to the point in everything she says."
+
+"She's my cousin," said Damaris quietly. "Nellie Hartbrook."
+
+Sir Mark gazed at her in silence for a moment, then he smiled.
+
+"You've scored a point!" he said.
+
+"I'm glad she was the one to help you, grandfather. I wanted you to
+know her."
+
+"Yes—yes—well—character tells—sometimes more than name."
+
+He lay still after this. Then there was a little stir outside, and
+Barbara appeared.
+
+Damaris slipped away, for she knew he ought to be kept as quiet as
+possible. She told Nellie that her identity was now known, and they
+laughed over the little incident together.
+
+
+Later on, Damaris returned home. Barbara looked at her with grave
+thoughtfulness as she wished her good-bye.
+
+"If Dr. Lancaster is right, you will have a trying time before you,
+Damaris," she said; "I know what father is like when he is laid up. He
+is a very bad patient. If you get into difficulties, wire for me, and
+I'll come over. In any case, I'll come and see how he is getting on in
+a few days' time. Symon understands him and loves nursing. Let him do
+it, father hates trained nurses."
+
+She gave her a few more directions.
+
+Damaris listened quietly.
+
+"I will do my best," she said, trying to speak cheerfully.
+
+And then she went back to the Hall feeling that the sunshine across
+the common, the blue sky, the larks soaring up and trilling out their
+ecstatic songs were all a mockery when the old man who loved it all had
+received his death knell, and would never ride across the common any
+more.
+
+The Squire was driven home the next day in his own comfortable
+brougham; but he had to be carried to his bed, and for some weeks he
+was seriously ill. Then he slowly began to recover, and it was during
+his convalescence that Damaris felt the strain most.
+
+Barbara had been over continually, and Mrs. Dashwood had helped a
+good deal. The Squire was always glad to see her, and she had a most
+soothing effect upon him when he was impatient and irritable. But
+neither of them had the continual strain of keeping things going to his
+satisfaction, and it was on Damaris's shoulders that most of the burden
+rested.
+
+Nothing would satisfy Sir Mark. Sometimes he would send for his
+granddaughter to scold and complain and bemoan his useless existence.
+Nothing that she could do or say would be right; and if crossed in the
+slightest thing, he would give way to a fit of temper which agitated
+and increased his sufferings.
+
+
+One lovely afternoon, after a long morning in the sick-room, Damaris
+crept out into the garden feeling utterly spent and depressed. She
+turned into a shady walk, and reaching a secluded corner where a seat
+was placed under an old beech tree, she seated herself upon it, and
+indulged in a fit of tears.
+
+"I'm a failure," she assured herself; "I pray every day for patience,
+and every day I lose it. Grandfather does not like me. It is Aunt
+Barbara he needs, and she cannot always be here. And I make mistakes,
+and then, of course, he is angry. And if I show my feelings, and he
+thinks I am sorry for him, he gets angrier still. I don't know what to
+do, and how to talk to him!"
+
+She started. Steps were coming along the path, and then a certain
+whistle made her spring to her feet and dry her tears hastily. It was
+Stuart. It was not often he came over in the week, and she expressed
+surprise as she greeted him.
+
+"Well," he said, "I've taken half a day off, and I wondered if you
+would like to come out for a ride."
+
+"I haven't ridden since grandfather's accident," said Damaris, a little
+colour stealing into her cheeks. "I shouldn't like to tell him that I
+had been doing it."
+
+"Oh, but that's morbid. You are getting hipped. Don't turn your head
+away. I see there have been tears. Are things going wrong?"
+
+Damaris held her head up bravely.
+
+"I am tired and a little over-done. I don't think I could go out.
+Grandfather might want me."
+
+"But Symon tells me you have been with him all the morning, and that he
+is resting now."
+
+"Yes; but if he should wake and want me?"
+
+"Then he could be told that you are out. My dear child, this is all
+wrong; you must have some time off. Now get into your habit, and I'll
+have your horse round. I insist! It's for the good of your health."
+
+He would take no denial.
+
+In a short time, Damaris was riding down the drive with him, and when
+they reached the common and met the fresh cool breezes across, she
+lifted up her face with a little gesture of delight.
+
+Stuart exerted himself to entertain her. He was always amusing and
+interesting, and he took her right away from herself and the atmosphere
+of the sick-room.
+
+Presently, she laughed outright.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Maitland, you're doing me a lot of good! I shall believe that
+there is some enjoyment left in the world, after all. You don't know
+how down I was to-day. Everything seemed grey and impossible."
+
+"And now you find that a ride in the open with a little fooling, has
+brought the sunshine back. You see how wise I was to drag you out!"
+
+"It is when I am alone I get in the dumps. I wish I had Mrs. Dashwood's
+joyousness, and—and yours. You are two of the happiest people I
+have ever seen. I don't think I was born happy. It isn't my natural
+temperament."
+
+"You're too much alone," said Stuart, looking at her sweet sensitive
+face, and realising how her present circumstances were telling upon her.
+
+"I have always been that—always," Damaris said.
+
+He was silent. Words that were burning on his tongue were kept back.
+This was neither the time nor season. He must wait. He rode back with
+her to the Hall.
+
+"We'll have another ride next week," he said. "Meanwhile keep your
+spirits up, and in bucking yourself up, you'll buck up the Squire, too!"
+
+Damaris nodded brightly as she left him, and went into the house.
+
+
+The next afternoon, Barbara arrived over. She went in and sat with her
+father for nearly an hour. Then she came downstairs, and Damaris and
+she had their tea together out on the terrace. Damaris was conscious
+that her aunt was criticising her appearance rather closely.
+
+"You're having a bad time, aren't you?" she said in her blunt downright
+fashion. "I think you must have somebody to stay with you. Have you no
+young friend who would come and keep you company?"
+
+Damaris flushed and her eyes shone.
+
+"There is Nellie," she said; "but Mrs. Bonnycott could not spare her.
+And I'm afraid that Nellie feels obliged to go back to her work as soon
+as possible; she won't give it up. Her whole soul is in it, and, now
+she is rested, she says she must go. I am so glad grandfather likes
+her. Perhaps at some future time, he might let me have her here on a
+visit. But, Aunt Barbara, I know whom I would really like to have.
+It's a Miss Hardacre; she's a little deformed old lady, but I love her
+and she loves me, and she was so good to me in London that I would do
+anything I could for her."
+
+"Ask her down, by all means. She will do as chaperon, any way. If
+father says anything, tell him I think you ought to have one, though
+the race is nearly extinct nowadays. But now father is upstairs
+altogether, it is better you should have somebody with you. Is that
+young Lancaster over here much?"
+
+"No—never now. I don't see anyone except Mr. Maitland sometimes."
+
+"Oh, he is one of ourselves. I must be going, for the girls are home
+from school and they need a little supervision." Then, in a little
+burst of confidence, she added, "I'm not having a very good time
+myself. The girls have met Geoffrey Lancaster and want to see a lot of
+him, and their father objects; so I am acting the heavy stepmother and
+am encountering the same scowls that I used to treat my stepmother to.
+I see myself again in them so often. I was a brave woman to marry a
+widower."
+
+"You are very happy," said Damaris smiling. "I wish I had your calm and
+cheerful serenity, Aunt Barbara. I worry so, when things go wrong."
+
+"I see you do," said Barbara, looking at her gravely. "You are worrying
+yourself to fiddlestrings. And yet you gave me to understand some time
+ago that you had had some wonderful religious experience. Doesn't your
+religion help you?"
+
+Sudden tears filled Damaris's eyes. Then she said in a low tone—
+
+"I think if I had no religion, I should have run away long ago."
+
+"It's your habit to run away from difficulties, isn't it?" Barbara
+said, smiling. "I remember you ran away from your uncle's house when
+you first came here; and then you ran away from me just at the critical
+moment. Well, I'm glad you haven't deserted your post now. And I can
+tell you for your comfort that father told me just now that you do his
+business as well as ever I did, and that Blake told him that you'd a
+'wonderful head for figures.'"
+
+Damaris laughed, but could not speak.
+
+"Write to that old body this evening," Barbara added, "and get her to
+come to you at once."
+
+It was only when Barbara was leaving that she enlightened Damaris as to
+why she had come over this particular afternoon.
+
+"Stuart gave me such a bad account of you that I came off at once. He
+will be relieved, as well as myself, when you get your friend to come
+to you."
+
+"I don't think it is Mr. Maitland's concern," said Damaris, a little
+stiffly.
+
+"Stuff, child! Don't you know Stuart yet? He interferes with every man
+and woman he comes across. But I will say he generally leaves them the
+better for his interference!"
+
+And Damaris thought so too, when she went back to the house and wrote
+her letter to Miss Hardacre.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE LAST RIDE
+
+"OH, I can't believe I've got you here! It's perfectly lovely to have
+you!"
+
+A radiant Damaris was hugging Miss Hardacre at the station. It was
+five o'clock, and a hot August afternoon. The sun blazed down upon the
+platform, and, to Damaris's eyes, Miss Hardacre looked white and weary
+and smaller than ever. She had come herself to meet her in the brougham.
+
+"I'm not quite sure whether I'm dreaming or not," said Miss Hardacre,
+with her whimsical smile.
+
+And then when she was settled in the carriage and a soft cushion
+stuffed behind her back, she put her hand caressingly on Damaris's arm.
+
+"Dear child, how sweet of you to have me! I can hardly believe it even
+now. And you're looking just the same. I have never lost sight of your
+small dark head and tiny oval face and your great starry eyes. I have
+sometimes shut my eyes and fancied you sitting beside me—but, oh, I was
+so thankful that you were not. I don't think you would have thrived in
+London this hot summer."
+
+"I am sure you have not. A rim seems taken off you everywhere."
+
+Damaris talked away gaily. Her heart ached for this old friend of
+hers—so small and frail and feeble—and she resolved to do all she could
+to make her happy and comfortable.
+
+Miss Hardacre continued to feel in a dream—the cool shady drawing-room
+with its lovely flowers, the delicious tea awaiting them; and then
+the going up the old oak stairs, along a soft-carpeted corridor, to a
+lovely bed-room with a couch drawn near to the open window, and outside
+a view of the common with its purple heather stretching away to the
+horizon.
+
+When Damaris insisted upon tucking her up on the couch, and leaving her
+there to rest from her journey, tears of joy stole down the withered
+cheeks, and she murmured to herself—
+
+"It almost makes me believe in a loving God again to be blessed like
+this."
+
+When Sir Mark saw his granddaughter's friend, he smiled grimly to
+himself. But before many days had passed, he grew to look for the old
+lady's visits to him.
+
+"She has a mind," he told Damaris; "and she's a highly-respectable
+chaperon for you."
+
+Damaris's cares set lightly on her now. The very fact that she had
+somebody to talk over all the worrying little details of her busy life
+made them seem insignificant.
+
+She drove Miss Hardacre out in the low pony-cart across the common
+and along the lovely country lanes. She settled her in a cushioned
+arm-chair under the old beech trees upon the velvet lawn with her books
+and work, and left her there when she was occupied with her grandfather
+or with the bailiff in the study.
+
+And after dinner, they would sit out on the terrace watching the moon
+rise, and talk of many things.
+
+One evening, soon after Miss Hardacre came, Damaris touched on her
+new-born happiness of soul.
+
+"You told me you had lost all your faith," she said softly; "I do want
+you to get it back again. It is all true, all real. Christ is living
+to-day with us all, and He makes His power felt. I suppose troubles
+are like big clouds hiding the sun, but the sun is there all the time.
+And God is watching us all, and holds the world in the hollow of His
+hand, and loves us through all our disbelief and want of faith, and
+indifference and rebellion. Oh, Miss Hardacre dear—I shall never rest
+till you get God's peace and love filling your heart."
+
+Miss Hardacre listened with interest.
+
+"I have loved your letters," she said; "but I am old and it seems too
+late. Enthusiasm and fire come so easily to the young—I am weary and
+care-worn."
+
+Damaris turned upon her with shining eyes.
+
+"And didn't our Lord speak to the old and weary when He said,—
+
+   "'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will
+give you rest.'"
+
+The old familiar words seemed to strike Miss Hardacre in a new fresh
+sense. She murmured them over to herself, and, when she went to bed
+that night, got out her little Bible, which was so seldom used by her,
+and turned up the verse, reading it again and again.
+
+
+The next day was Sunday. Was it by chance that Stuart, sitting down at
+the piano after tea, began playing, "Oh, Rest in the Lord."
+
+Miss Hardacre leant back in her chair. As a girl, she had sung the
+refrain, and every word hammered itself against her brain as he played.
+
+Stuart took to her at once, as he did to most old people. In her
+presence, he teased Damaris in a happy light-hearted fashion.
+
+"Miss Hartbrook is very atmospheric, isn't she?" he said. "I call her
+'Miss Barometer' sometimes, but she doesn't like it."
+
+"She 'is' susceptible to atmosphere," said Miss Hardacre.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't discuss me before my face," said Damaris a little
+petulantly. "I should like to have Aunt Barbara's unmoved calm, and
+your light-heartedness, Mr. Maitland, and Miss Hardacre's philosophical
+endurance. But I don't seem able to arrive at any of those virtues."
+
+"You're too thin-skinned," said Stuart, looking at her with an amused
+gleam in his eyes. "I've been with your grandfather this afternoon, and
+he's been railing at everything in creation, but I don't come out of
+his room with my forehead a network of wrinkles and my eyes misty with
+tears. My tough skin protects me from that. I only feel sorry for the
+old chap, and try to buck him up all I can!"
+
+"Men are different from women," said Miss Hardacre cheerily. "But you
+must remember that you only make occasional visits to the Squire,
+whilst Damaris spends the greater part of each day with him."
+
+"Besides," said Damaris, "grandfather may growl a little with you,
+but he doesn't make you feel that everything in the house and stables
+and village and all the estate is going to rack and ruin through your
+ignorant mistakes."
+
+"Never mind," Miss Hardacre said; "since I have been here, you have
+certainly been neither wrinkled nor misty with tears."
+
+Damaris laughed.
+
+"How could I, when I have you to come to? You always understand."
+
+Stuart looked from one to the other of them and marvelled at the
+friendship that existed between them.
+
+When he had gone, Miss Hardacre said—
+
+"Mr. Maitland is a great friend of yours."
+
+"No, he says he won't be. He doesn't like being friends with me. He
+told me so."
+
+"Perhaps he wants to be something more."
+
+A pink flush came into Damaris's cheeks.
+
+"Indeed, no! He treats me as he does everyone else: He said once that
+he was interested in every human being on this earth. I think he is. He
+befriends them all, if he won't call himself their friend."
+
+But Miss Hardacre had eyes in her head, and arrived at her own
+conclusions.
+
+Nellie came over to lunch with them one day; but she was really
+leaving Fallerton. She had not seen very much of Damaris since her
+grandfather's accident. Mrs. Bonnycott kept her always busy, and did
+not like her to be away much from her.
+
+"I'm awfully fond of the old lady," Nellie said; "but I tell her that
+she must get someone more fitted for an easy billet than I am. I love
+grappling with difficulties, and honestly I like coming in contact with
+men best, and with men's brains—I'm accustomed to them."
+
+"But you see Mr. Maitland and Mr. Lancaster nearly every day."
+
+"They have their work and I have mine. Well, Damaris, I'm glad to have
+seen you in your proper setting. You're no town lover, nor would you
+ever make a good town worker. All your people and friends are worth
+knowing. Did I tell you I had made acquaintance with Mr. Gore and his
+sisters? How the women in that house tyrannise over the man! He and I
+have got quite chummy over beetle lore. I'm interested in all insect
+life, and I've recommended him a book in the British Museum. Told him
+to leave his sisters and come up to town for a bit; I believe he means
+to do it."
+
+"Are you really leaving in a few days?"
+
+"Yes; this is my farewell. I bear you no malice for stealing my friend
+and placing her down here, but I shall miss her most awfully in town."
+
+"Oh," said Miss Hardacre, "I shall soon be back again; I am only here
+for a visit."
+
+"No," said Damaris; "I don't mean to lose you in a hurry. Nellie will
+have to come and stay with us next Christmas, when she gets a holiday.
+Grandfather will like to see her again, I know."
+
+
+So Nellie left, and the summer slowly passed. Sir Mark, after a time,
+improved in health and spirits. He was able to come downstairs again,
+and take short walks, and often allowed Damaris to drive him out in the
+low pony-trap; but riding was strictly forbidden by his doctors. Sir
+Mark often talked of buying a motor, but he had always been so devoted
+to his horses that he still postponed their substitute.
+
+As the hunting season drew near, he grew more and more depressed.
+
+One day he sent for Dawkins, the head groom, and told him that he would
+have his favourite hunter, "Rajah" by name, shot.
+
+"I won't have him sold. He isn't fit for a lady, and I don't want
+anyone else to ride him."
+
+Dawkins remonstrated in vain. Damaris pleaded that he might be turned
+out on grass, but the Squire was obdurate.
+
+Upon the morning when the deed was to be done, Sir Mark gave his orders
+that Rajah was to be saddled and brought round to the front door.
+
+"I want to bid him good-bye," he said shortly.
+
+He was sitting out on the terrace when groom and horse appeared.
+Damaris had been reading the newspaper to him, but she had seen that
+he was in an over-wrought state of mind, and knew that his thoughts
+were with his beloved hunter. She longed that the farewell between them
+was over. Rajah was a beautiful black horse, and sincerely attached to
+his master. Now, as he came prancing up the drive, he turned his head
+quickly from side to side as if looking for him.
+
+Sir Mark got up from his seat when he saw him, and slowly descended the
+broad stone steps. A little impatient whinny came from Rajah when he
+caught sight of the Squire. He advanced a step and thrust out his nose.
+The Squire stroked it affectionately.
+
+"We'll never go hunting again, old boy," he said, under his breath.
+
+Dawkins turned away his head. Damaris wondered if his eyes, like her
+own, were misty with tears.
+
+Then a sudden quick movement on the part of the Squire, and the next
+moment his foot was in the stirrup, and he was in the saddle.
+
+Damaris gave a little gasp.
+
+"Get me my hat, there's a good girl. I'm going to walk him down the
+drive for the last time."
+
+"Oh, please don't. Remember what Dr. Lancaster said."
+
+The Squire frowned, but then nodded smilingly to his granddaughter,
+and, afraid of exciting him, Damaris obediently fetched his hat.
+
+"You will go slowly, won't you? He seems too fresh for you."
+
+"Rajah and I understand each other," was the quick reply.
+
+Then she signed to Dawkins to follow close behind. The old groom had
+a mixture of fright and admiration in his eyes as he gave Damaris
+a reassuring nod. She watched Rajah curvetting a little at first,
+then quieting down under the well-known hand of his master. A sudden
+presentiment of evil seemed to fall upon her. She stood upon the
+terrace gazing at the pathetic sight of the old man taking his last
+ride. She knew now that when he gave orders for Rajah to be saddled
+that he had planned this farewell ride. But the slow pace which he was
+going and the close proximity of Dawkins behind reassured her.
+
+And then there was the sudden sound of a horn. Damaris remembered that
+the beagles were having a run, but it affected Rajah like a spark
+dropped in gunpowder. He raised his head, and was off down the long
+drive at a canter. Whether her grandfather spurred him on, or failed to
+pull him in, Damaris never knew. She saw Dawkins break into a run, and
+then they disappeared from her sight. She dashed into the hall, calling
+to Miss Hardacre and to Symons.
+
+The old butler wrung his hands.
+
+"He isn't up to it! The master isn't up to it! He had one of his
+attacks last night, when I was helping him to bed. May God bring him
+back safely!"
+
+And Damaris re-echoed that prayer with heart-felt earnestness. It
+hardly seemed a few minutes before the tramping of hoofs was heard, and
+Rajah cantered up the drive carrying the Squire on his back. Damaris
+drew a long breath of relief, but her face changed when she saw the
+blue-grey face of her grandfather. He seemed struggling for breath, and
+had one hand pressed against his side. Symons lifted him gently off.
+
+Damaris went to the other side of him to help him up the steps, but it
+seemed to her that he was a dead weight in Symon's arms. They got him
+into the hall, and other servants came forward at once, and together
+carried him upstairs and laid him on his bed. Once he looked up, and
+Damaris caught some husky muttered words. They were—
+
+"May God have mercy on me."
+
+The doctor was sent for at once, but before he arrived, Sir Mark had
+quietly passed away.
+
+Damaris heard from Dawkins afterwards the details of that ill-fated
+ride. He had followed on foot as fast as he could. The Squire did not
+seem to have the strength to check Rajah's pace. They passed out by the
+gates on the high road. Rajah, with head up, was making for the fields
+where the beagles were hunting, but Sir Mark realised that he could go
+no further, and with determined effort brought Rajah to a standstill,
+and turned him back towards home. It was that effort that cost him his
+life.
+
+At first, Damaris could not realise it, then she, with a
+self-possession at which Miss Hardacre marvelled, began to do all that
+was necessary, sending wires to the different members of the family.
+Stuart Maitland, as usual, reached her first. Bad news travels fast,
+and the whole of Marley knew of the Squire's death half-an-hour after
+it had occurred.
+
+He came into the library where Damaris was sitting at the
+writing-table, and she turned round to greet him with a white strained
+face, yet with a gleam of relief in her eyes at the sight of him.
+Holding out both hands to him she exclaimed—
+
+"Oh, how good of you to come! You're always at hand when help is
+needed."
+
+"How did it happen?" he asked, holding her hands very tenderly.
+
+Damaris told him briefly.
+
+"His family will blame me, but I could not prevent it. It was natural
+that he should wish to say good-bye to his hunter; and how could I
+imagine what he had determined to do?" Tears began to drop, but she
+resolutely wiped them away. "There is much to do," she said.
+
+"Yes, but not for you," said Stuart in his friendly way. "I will do
+what I can till his sons arrive; and if you have wired to Barbara, she
+will be here at once."
+
+Barbara came in her husband's car an hour later. She felt her father's
+death acutely; but it was not her way to show her feelings. She
+reassured Damaris.
+
+"If I had been here, it would have been the same. No one could have
+prevented him. And it was so characteristic of him, to determine on
+his action, and carry it out so promptly. He has always said to me
+that riding a horse would strain his heart no more than sitting in a
+chair—in fact, that he was more accustomed to a seat in the saddle than
+anywhere else. He would not believe in the danger."
+
+The rest of that day seemed like a dream to Damaris. Later on, she
+stood out on the terrace alone, trying to realise that her grandfather
+had really left her. And it was there that Stuart found her when he
+came to wish her good-bye.
+
+"I am off," he said. "I've promised Barbara to come over whenever
+she wants me. She is sleeping here, she tells me, and you have Miss
+Hardacre, so you will not be alone."
+
+Then Damaris turned to him, and her grey eyes were very wistful and sad.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Maitland, where is he? I have been thinking of that other
+country. But it seems so sudden, so awfully tragic. Last Sunday, he
+asked me to read him the Psalms and lessons—he said he missed church
+so; but somehow or other I found it so difficult to talk. But I did
+tell him about myself, and he did not laugh at me. I suppose he knew
+when his ride was over that he was done for. He said, 'May God have
+mercy upon me.' He has always been so reserved on religious subjects."
+
+Stuart smiled his usual cheery smile.
+
+"We must leave him with his Creator, Who knew him better than either
+you or I. And don't fret, you poor little thing! It has been a heavy
+blow, hasn't it?"
+
+"Don't pity me, or I shall cry, and I want to keep up so as to be able
+to help Aunt Barbara all I can."
+
+Damaris held her head up bravely, and Stuart shook hands with her and
+went.
+
+
+All Sir Mark's sons came to his funeral, and Ella accompanied her
+husband. Damaris felt from the moment that she entered the house that
+she intended to show all that she was mistress there.
+
+Damaris herself kept upstairs as much as possible. She and Miss
+Hardacre sat in her little boudoir most of the day. After the funeral
+was over and the will had been read and discussed, the house resumed
+its normal state. Sir Herbert and his wife went back to their home in
+the North, but before they went, Ella had a talk with Damaris.
+
+"We shall return as soon as possible, of course," she said. "But I
+shall be glad if you will remain here and keep things going till we do
+come back. We shall sell our present house; but I have some furniture
+that I want to bring, and we have many arrangements to make up North
+which may delay us. What are your plans? I was wondering if you would
+like to stay on with us? Bobbie and Lucia are so fond of you, that if
+you would make yourself useful, and take them to a couple of hours'
+lessons every morning, we should be very glad for you to still live
+here. They are too small for a proper governess, and are just getting
+beyond their nurse, who spoils them."
+
+Damaris did not speak for a moment, then she said, with that quiet
+dignity of hers—
+
+"I shall be very glad to stay here till you are ready to take
+possession; but I do not think I can do so afterwards. I have hardly
+formulated my plans yet. May I write and let you know?"
+
+"Oh, please yourself. I should have thought you would have only
+been too glad to have a home with us. A girl like you is at a great
+disadvantage if you try to live alone. I know the Squire has left you
+that tiny Dower House at Park Corner and five hundred pounds a year of
+your own, hasn't he? But you can't live there alone; and even if you
+take your little old hunchback friend there, you would never have such
+social advantages as you would in living with us."
+
+Damaris could hardly forbear smiling. She pictured herself turned into
+a nursery governess, and at the beck and call of her aunt all day long.
+She knew how she worked her long-suffering nurse. Young Lady Murray was
+a woman who invariably made demands on all around her; and even in her
+short stay at the Hall the previous Christmas had used Damaris as much
+as she dared in contributing towards her comfort and ease.
+
+"I will let you know when I have talked over things with Aunt Barbara,"
+Damaris replied quietly; "meanwhile, thank you very much for your
+offer."
+
+
+Barbara laughed when Damaris repeated the conversation to her.
+
+"You would be miserable with Ella. I am sorry for you, Damaris, to have
+lost your home so soon; but I wonder sometimes if you have appreciated
+it as much as I did. You talked so lightly of leaving it and getting
+work elsewhere."
+
+"Oh, I didn't feel lightly about it," cried Damaris; "I only felt I
+didn't want to lead a lazy luxurious life when there is so much to be
+done in the world. And, of course, the longer one lives here, the more
+one gets to love it. I little thought, with you, what a short time I
+should be in it. But I could not stay with Aunt Ella unless I saw it
+was my duty to do so, and I can't see that. I don't quite know what to
+do. It seems difficult."
+
+She went off to Mrs. Dashwood to ask for advice, and it was given very
+gently and lovingly.
+
+"Don't be in a hurry, dear. The way will be opened when it is time, and
+if your lot is to be cast amongst the stay-at-homes, you will be happy
+there, I know. Dr. Lancaster was talking to me about you the other day.
+He does not think you over-strong, and I know would not pass you for
+mission work abroad, or for any strenuous work at home."
+
+"I shall be so idle at the Dower House," murmured Damaris
+disconsolately. "Aunt Barbara has suggested my staying with her, but I
+don't quite like to do so. I'm not wanted anywhere now."
+
+"Wait and see," said Mrs. Dashwood brightly. "I don't think you will be
+kept waiting long. We can all do God's Will wherever we are. And that
+is our chief duty, is it not?"
+
+Damaris returned home with comfort in her heart. It was not her way to
+fret over the inevitable, and perhaps it was fortunate for her that she
+was kept very busy with household arrangements.
+
+The arrival of her uncle and aunt with a young family caused a good
+deal of alteration in the house, and she had promised to prepare for
+them.
+
+Miss Hardacre suggested that she should move at once into Mrs. Patch's
+lodgings, but Damaris would not hear of it.
+
+"We will go to the Dower House together. Grandfather has left me so
+comfortably off that I shall be in no anxiety about money. Everybody
+tells me I want a rest, so I can have it there."
+
+So, for the time, Miss Hardacre stayed on with her. She, as well as
+others, had noted how white and fragile the girl was looking. Her
+grandfather's illness had been a long and severe strain, and she had
+never been very strong.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE RIGHT HOME APPEARS
+
+ONE autumn afternoon, Damaris took the dogs out for a run over the
+common. The heather was dying, but the golden bracken and the late
+gorse seemed to gild the scene, and the trees in their deep red and
+russet brown foliage were a real joy to Damaris. She was standing by a
+group of hawthorns, when she was startled by a voice close to her.
+
+"Good afternoon."
+
+It was Stuart. He was striding over the ground at a rapid rate.
+
+"So glad to see you out," he said. "Weather conditions better, eh?
+Rising fair, I should say."
+
+Damaris laughed, as she always did when he alluded to her barometrical
+tendencies, as he called them.
+
+"Oh, yes, I am feeling it is good to be alive this afternoon. What are
+you doing out here?"
+
+"I was coming over to see you," he said in a very quiet tone. "I made
+up my mind to do it last night, and the thought of it kept me awake all
+night."
+
+"Oh, what a pity you thought of it at all," said Damaris laughing.
+"Have you any very unpleasant business to transact with me?"
+
+He looked at her rather searchingly, but a smile was in his eyes.
+
+"Now what kind of unpleasant business could I want to transact with
+you?" he asked her. "You are looking better—not such an ethereal
+phantom as when I saw you last. How is Miss Hardacre?"
+
+"Very fit."
+
+"Are you and she going to set up housekeeping together?"
+
+"I think we are. I don't quite know." Damaris's eyes were dreamy as she
+spoke. "She thinks I would be more free without her, but I don't like
+living alone; I have had too much of it. And I'm inclined to wonder why
+I am turned out of one home after the other. It seems to be my fate,
+but, of course, it's all right."
+
+"Well now, I am sure you have had a lot of suggestions from everyone.
+And I want you to listen to mine, will you?"
+
+Damaris looked up at him, and then as suddenly looked away. His eyes
+revealed too much.
+
+"I want to offer you a home," he said abruptly. "Shall we make one
+together?"
+
+Damaris caught her breath. Then she said slowly, but with lifted head—
+
+"It is very kind and good of you. But I ought not to have insinuated
+that I was homeless. Aunt Barbara has asked me to stay with her, and
+Aunt Ella wants me to live with her."
+
+"But don't you understand me?" said Stuart quickly.
+
+"Yes," said Damaris in the same slow way, "I do. You lay awake last
+night filled with pity for one of your many friends—you see, I call
+myself your friend—and you wondered if you could offer me the home you
+thought I was in need of—and now you have done it. And I am grateful,
+though I must decline it."
+
+"You are talking nonsense!" Stuart said hotly. Then he added, "I beg
+your pardon. Mine is not a business proposal. I have started the wrong
+end. And as for pity—I may have that; but it is love that has kept me
+awake all night. Didn't I tell you I did not want to be your friend?
+I want to be your lover, no other role will suit me. You are such a
+dainty remote little creature, so quick to resent undue familiarity, so
+sensitive to hasty words, that I have gone slowly, trying to discover
+your mind. And now I'm in absolute suspense as to how you regard me.
+As a useful friend and neighbour, eh? I flatter myself that you have
+some small liking for me, but whether there's something still waiting
+for me below the surface is the problem. It isn't a home I want to give
+you—it's my heart and life; and I want to have yours."
+
+He had stopped walking by her side, and had now swung round in front of
+her, holding her hands as if he never meant to let them go.
+
+Damaris's colour came and went, her lips quivered, she seemed as if she
+were about to cry, and then she looked up into his face, and a soft
+little sigh escaped her.
+
+"You can have it," she murmured.
+
+It was just as well that they were in a lonely part of the common, as
+Stuart took her right in his arms then and there.
+
+"Well, this is bliss!" he said at last.
+
+And then Damaris laughed, she could not help it. There was something so
+naïve and boyish in his tone.
+
+"I can't understand your wanting me," she said presently. "You have so
+many women friends, and I always feel very young and ignorant when I'm
+with you."
+
+"And you are the only person who inspires me with a feeling of doubtful
+uncertainty and of diffidence," said Stuart with a twinkle in his eyes.
+"I haven't been able to keep away from you, but I've always pretended
+to be very self-assured and grandfatherly in my remarks, when in
+reality I have been trembling in my shoes!"
+
+Then he tucked her hand into his arm. "Oh, let us walk over the hills
+and far away! I want to be alone with you in the world. Damaris,
+sweetest, how long has your heart been mine? Let's make our confessions
+one to the other. Do you remember when we first saw each other? You
+were sitting by the roadside and Barbara and I passed you; and then I
+saw you in church on the Sunday, and I said to myself,—
+
+"'If ever I have a wife, she must look just like that.'
+
+"And your proud little face stamped itself then and there on my heart.
+Then we met you coming across the common, and I saw you once or twice
+after that; the third or fourth time I was introduced to you at the
+Rectory; and then the day you were running off—at the station; do you
+remember? What a state I was in when Barbara told me who you were
+supposed to be! I went up to town, and felt I would never give up
+looking for you till I had found you.
+
+"How angry you were with me when we met! I was determined to get you
+down into these parts again. And all this year, I've been looking
+forward to the moment which is now with us. But doubts and fears have
+beset me, and it wasn't till Barbara was talking with me yesterday that
+I determined to put my fortune to the test. Why didn't you let me see
+just a tiny bit that you cared for me?"
+
+"How could I?" said Damaris, with a soft glow in her eyes. "How can
+any girl show her feelings before she knows that a man cares for her?
+Only some days ago, when you last came over and played so exquisitely
+before—before our trouble, I thought to myself, as I sat listening to
+you, 'I would give all the world to be able to have the right to go
+over to him and put my arms round his neck and thank him.'"
+
+"You shall do it," murmured Stuart ecstatically; "next time I'm at the
+piano, you shall do it, and I shall demand two very soft kisses then
+and there."
+
+Damaris paid no attention to this interruption.
+
+"And then," she continued, "I felt it would be quite impossible to
+expect you to care more for me than for anyone else, and people always
+said of you that you were friendly with everyone."
+
+"Why did you think I came over so often? It was not to see your
+grandfather."
+
+"I thought that was just habit. You used to come and see Aunt Barbara;
+and as you were friendly with her, I thought you meant to be friendly
+with me."
+
+"I have been a laggard wooer," said Stuart in a contrite tone. "I have
+always been steeling my heart to wait until I had some inclination from
+you to encourage me. And you never gave it."
+
+"And you are positively sure that you are not offering me a house out
+of pity?"
+
+"Now stand still and look into my eyes, and say whether it is pity or
+love you see there."
+
+In this way they talked, like all lovers do, and eventually came to the
+Hall together.
+
+"Is Miss Hardacre in?" Damaris asked Symons a little nervously.
+
+She felt self-conscious, being afraid of betraying her happiness to all
+who saw her.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, and her ladyship is with her."
+
+"Oh, Aunt Barbara has come over. What shall we do?"
+
+She turned a pretty appealing face towards Stuart.
+
+"Do?" he said. "Await their congratulations. I want to proclaim it from
+the house-top. Come along in; I will do all the talking for you."
+
+
+And so they went in to tell their news, Damaris feeling very shy but
+almost dazed by her sudden happiness. To her the whole aspect of the
+world had changed within the last hour.
+
+Barbara was sitting by the library fire talking to Miss Hardacre. They
+both looked up as Damaris and Stuart came in, and both knew before they
+were told what had happened.
+
+"My promised wife," said Stuart proudly.
+
+And then Damaris made a quick step forward, and the next moment was
+kneeling beside her aunt's chair.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Barbara, I hope you approve! I hope you'll be pleased! It has
+happened so suddenly that I hardly realise it."
+
+"My dear child, I've hoped that it would come off for some time. I
+knew where Stuart's heart was, but I could not be quite sure about
+yours. You are a very reserved little mortal, you know, and most Early
+Victorian in your sense of decorum and propriety."
+
+"She's everything that is perfect in my eyes," said Stuart; "so please
+spare your criticism. I don't know whether Miss Hardacre thinks me good
+enough for her darling."
+
+"Oh," said Miss Hardacre, smiling, "I always felt you would be the man
+from the first day that I saw you. And I hoped that nothing would come
+between you."
+
+"There, you see," Damaris said, trying to speak lightly, "everybody
+seems to have settled it for us beforehand, so I must side with the
+majority."
+
+But she felt nearer tears than laughter, and when Stuart eventually
+departed, she slipped up to her room and locked the door. She wanted
+quiet thought, for the sudden joy had unnerved her. She could
+acknowledge to herself now, without any feelings of shame, that her
+love for Stuart had come many months before. It had been a continual
+struggle to repress it and ignore it. It had been simply happiness to
+be in the same room with him, to hear him speak, to watch his every
+movement. And when he had condoled with her over her grandfather's
+death, she had very nearly shown her feelings.
+
+Stuart's cheeriness, high spirits and his wonderful talents, especially
+for music, had drawn from her the highest admiration. But it was the
+little serious touches, the deep feeling that he sometimes betrayed
+that had appealed to her most. Her girlish heart was attracted by his
+good looks and charming personality; but her spirit was drawn to his by
+the love and faith they had together in the Unseen.
+
+And Damaris knelt beside her window, and, gazing up into the fast
+darkening sky, she whispered her thanks to the One Who held her life
+and soul in His keeping.
+
+Barbara and Stuart had left the house together, so when Damaris came
+downstairs, she found Miss Hardacre alone in the fire-lit library. She
+gave a little sigh of relief as she nestled down by her side.
+
+"Now we can have a chat together," she said. "It will alter my whole
+life, won't it? And I'm afraid yours too. He will not hear of me going
+to the Dower House."
+
+"Well," said Miss Hardacre cheerfully, "I am too delighted for you,
+dear, to care about anything else. But I am seriously thinking of
+going to Mrs. Patch's lodgings. I shall be so very happy there. Do you
+remember we talked about it when you were first coming down here to
+live? I have been several times to see that old Mrs. Patch since you
+first introduced me to her, and I feel I should love to live under the
+same roof with her."
+
+"Yes," said Damaris thoughtfully; "I believe you would be comfortable
+and cosy there—I was. And we'll add some things to the sitting-room—a
+more comfortable arm-chair and cushions, and a few other little
+comforts. You won't regret the town in the winter, will you? You won't
+be dull?"
+
+"Compare it with the Bayswater boarding-house," said Miss Hardacre,
+laughing.
+
+Damaris looked into the fire dreamily.
+
+"We are going ahead, aren't we?" she said. "Stuart has no home of his
+own, and we may not be married for ages—though he wants to hurry it on.
+Aunt Barbara wants me to go and stay with her now; but she would love
+to have you too. You will come, will you not?"
+
+"Shouldn't think of it," said Miss Hardacre in her decisive little
+way. "I am not going to drag on to your heels everywhere. No; I shall
+go round to-morrow and make my arrangements with the Patches. When you
+leave this, I will go there, and I shall go joyfully."
+
+Then one of her old wrinkled hands touched Damaris's curly head with
+great tenderness. "I want to tell you, child, that I am like the blind
+man in the Bible. My sight is slowly coming to me. I see 'men as trees
+walking.'"
+
+"How?" Damaris asked softly.
+
+"I suppose we none of us have the same experience. You in your youth
+and innocence, have 'lifted the latch,' as you told me, and walked in.
+I am like a shut-up darkened house, that doesn't realise its dust and
+decay till the light creeps in. And it's a very slow process with me.
+My eyes are old and dim, and unbelieving even of what they're beginning
+to see; but the light is coming slowly, and old Mrs. Patch is as good
+as any pulpit preacher. You will think of me as enjoying mental food
+and comfort there as well as physical."
+
+"Dear Miss Hardacre!" Damaris gave her a little hug.
+
+The entrance of Symons to close the shutters put an end to their
+conversation. But Damaris felt greatly comforted about her friend, and
+no longer made objections to her lodging with the Patches.
+
+
+The next day, Mrs. Bonnycott arrived over with her congratulations.
+
+"Don't say you knew it was coming," said Damaris, smiling as she
+welcomed her.
+
+"Oh, I don't sit down and make up matches! And Stuart has given me
+many false alarms. But I shall miss the boy when he leaves me. I'm not
+satisfied with Geoffrey Lancaster, and he was simply rude to me when
+I told him the news: said he didn't believe it. My dear, where are
+you going to live? I wouldn't trust Stuart; he has such extraordinary
+ideas. He says people in our class are now suffering from our
+luxurious ideas of what is necessary to comfort. That they don't want
+half-a-dozen sitting-rooms, and everyone ought to start with a small
+house and add to it as their families grow. He will be taking one of
+these model cottages he is building, and planting you in one. He has no
+sense of proportion.
+
+"I hope he'll make you a good husband. I suppose you know what he is
+like? Has too big a heart, I tell him, takes in too many people and
+interests into his life. I wonder how much of his heart and life and
+time will now be set apart for you? Very little, I fear. But this
+doesn't sound like congratulations. Well, I'm glad you're going to
+settle down among us, and he ought—I've told him so—to be really
+grateful to you for accepting him. You're the prettiest girl in the
+county, and one of the pleasantest, too!" Mrs. Bonnycott paused for
+breath.
+
+Damaris was accustomed to her rambling talk, and happy to mind anything
+she said.
+
+"Why, I would live in a garret with Stuart!" she declared. "And
+wouldn't we make it snug and cheery! Wherever we are, I could never be
+unhappy. Stuart always drives away gloom. He carries about with him a
+spring of joy bubbling up inside. It's like living with the sun shining
+on one all day long."
+
+"And very unpleasant that is!" said Mrs. Bonnycott with emphasis. "Oh,
+you young people are all the same. You think life together will be
+heaven on earth, and then later, you are disillusioned."
+
+Mrs. Bonnycott had never quite forgiven her nephew for giving up his
+agency. And Damaris knew it and understood.
+
+
+But when she saw Stuart next, she linked her arm in his and asked him
+earnestly—
+
+"Do you think we shall both be disappointed and disillusioned a few
+years later? Your aunt prophesies that we shall."
+
+"Oh, she's in a proper stew over our engagement. I don't think there's
+the smallest chance of it, because we've seen enough of each other to
+know what to expect."
+
+"You certainly know how moody I am," said Damaris, "for you have found
+me in the dumps so often."
+
+"And you know how aggressively cheerful I am," said Stuart. "I have
+heard it said that a cheerful person at the breakfast table is one of
+the greatest bores in creation. And you'll have patience with all my
+plans and projects. You 'will' be the centre of my life, sweetheart—you
+are that now; but there will be crowds of people and things outside
+you, that will keep me busy. I'm made that way—I can't help it."
+
+"I hope you'll let me help you with some of it," said Damaris.
+
+They were in the library together. Stuart moved across to the piano.
+
+"I'll play you a serenade," he said, "of my own composition, to show
+you just a morsel of what is in my heart for you."
+
+In another moment he was making the piano speak, as only he could make
+it. Damaris listened, entranced. She seemed carried into another world
+when he played. Passion and love vibrated through her. And when the
+last throbbing notes had died away, he looked at her.
+
+"Now come and thank me in a proper manner," he said.
+
+Damaris went up, and with her arms about his neck and a soft shy kiss
+on his brow, Stuart was more than content.
+
+"I believe you could make me do anything you like with your music," she
+said; "and when I'm cross and sad, I shall always have you at hand to
+charm me into happiness again."
+
+"And now, when is the happy day to be?" Stuart asked taking out of his
+pocket a minute box, and producing an exquisite diamond and sapphire
+ring. "This is a forerunner of the real thing," he added, taking her
+hand in his and slipping the ring on her finger. "Why it fits as if it
+had been made for you. It is my mother's ring—her betrothal one. Do you
+like it? Blue stones suit you. I like you in blue. I should like you to
+wear nothing else."
+
+"Oh, I love it!" said Damaris, the colour mounting in her cheeks.
+
+"And when is the little plain gold one going on?"
+
+"I don't know. You are going too fast. You make me breathless."
+
+"I don't want to wait, my darling. We have seen each other continually
+for over a year. There is nothing to wait for. And I have found our
+home."
+
+"Have you?"
+
+Damaris looked up at him with interest at once.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"I am coming round in a car to take you to it to-morrow, if fine. You
+must prepare yourself to spend a long day with me. It isn't a caravan
+or a barge, as my aunt imagines. It is a quaint old farm-house with
+walled garden. It is small enough to be snug, and big enough to be
+roomy. And if you approve, we will have it done up at once, and start
+our life together as quickly as possible. I want this coming Christmas
+to find us by our own fireside, and then we will enjoy it together."
+
+Damaris said nothing for a moment, then she murmured dreamily—
+
+"Long ago, when I used to sit at my window in town, I used to see
+in a kind of vision, a farm-house in the country—thatched roof, and
+diamond-paned casement windows, and an orchard."
+
+"A vision of your home truly. What else did you see. Wasn't I in that
+dream?"
+
+Damaris shook her head with a little laugh, then she nestled against
+him.
+
+"I'll do anything you like," she murmured; "for your wishes shall be
+mine."
+
+And Stuart's head was bent to hers as he made answer playfully—
+
+"We'll be a real old-fashioned couple, of one mind and one heart; but
+when I give myself airs and turn dictator, you must snub me well, and
+put me in my proper place."
+
+"If we're going to be old-fashioned," Damaris said, "you must be the
+head."
+
+"No; we'll be modern, and run in harness together, side by side."
+
+Damaris smiled. She felt she could leave their future in the hands of
+the One Who loved them.
+
+For the present she was wholly and entirely satisfied.
+
+
+
+ ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
+ Headley Brothers, Printers, 18, Devonshire Street, Bishopsgate, K. C. 2;
+                               and Ashford Kent.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78482 ***
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+      The Discovery of Damaris │ Project Gutenberg
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78482 ***</div>
+
+<p>Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.</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>
+
+<h1>THE<br>
+<br>
+DISCOVERY OF DAMARIS</h1>
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+BY<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t1">
+AMY LE FEUVRE<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+<em>Author of "The Mender," "A Daughter of the Sea,"</em><br>
+<em>"Her Husband's Property," "The Chisel,"</em><br>
+<em>"A Happy Woman," "Tomina in Retreat,"</em><br>
+<em>etc., etc.</em><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+R.T.S., 4, BOUVERIE ST., LONDON, E.C.<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">I. A LONELY GIRL</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_2">II. ENGAGED</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_3">III. FREEDOM AT LAST</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_4">IV. A COUNTRY LODGING</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_5">V. MAKING ACQUAINTANCES</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_6">VI. A SUDDEN DEPARTURE</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_7">VII. A CONSULTATION</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_8">VIII. IN LONDON</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_9">IX. THE RUNAWAY IS TRACKED</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_10">X. A SUCCESSFUL ERRAND</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_11">XI. THE FAMILY MEETING</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_12">XII. LIFTING THE LATCH</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_13">XIII. A BIG SCHEME</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_14">XIV. BARBARA'S ENGAGEMENT</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_15">XV. THE SQUIRE'S ACCIDENT</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_16">XVI. A DIFFICULT TIME</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_17">XVII. THE LAST RIDE</a></p>
+
+<p><a href="#Chapter_18">XVIII. THE RIGHT HOME APPEARS</a></p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t2">
+<b>THE DISCOVERY OF DAMARIS</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_1">CHAPTER I</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A LONELY GIRL</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>DAMARIS sat at her window, work in hand. She was in a big upper room of
+a very old house in a quiet London square.</p>
+
+<p>It was her own room, and in the soft spring sunshine of that March
+afternoon it looked very attractive and comfortable. A thick Persian
+carpet was underfoot; the walls were covered with coffee-coloured
+paper, and all sorts and sizes of pictures hung upon them, from tiny
+water-colour paintings to heavy oil and a few very valuable and ancient
+prints. There was a low bookcase on one side of the fireplace, with
+some beautiful old china bowls resting on the top of it. There was
+a writing-table in one window, and a jar of yellow daffodils upon
+it. A chintz-covered couch was drawn up to another window. One or
+two comfortable lounge chairs, a work table of Indian design in red
+lacquer, and a curiosity-cabinet completed the furniture.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris herself was the centre of her room. She was a slim young girl,
+with a proud carriage and poise of head. A small head she had, with
+soft dark hair wound round it in coronet form; her eyes were dreamy and
+wistful—grey eyes, with long curling black lashes. Her face was white
+and small, her mouth beautiful in its sensitiveness and delicacy of
+outline.</p>
+
+<p>An observer of human nature said of her, when he had seen her for the
+first time—</p>
+
+<p>"A soul built to suffer. Too tenderly shod for life's rough stones."</p>
+
+<p>And one who knew her better said—</p>
+
+<p>"She is not awake. There are slumbering fires which, once roused, will
+startle all by their fierceness."</p>
+
+<p>She had a beautiful bit of tapestry on her lap. Quickly and deftly her
+fingers were forming wonderful flowers of rich colours. But her eyes
+were not always on her work. The window was open. On the opposite side
+of the street was the entrance porch of a private hotel. Motors and
+taxis drove to and from it continually, and Damaris's grey observant
+eyes noted all the arrivals and departures. A little smile flitted
+over her face as she watched an old lady and gentleman descend with
+difficulty from a taxi. An elderly maid followed them into the hotel,
+laden with bags and shawls and leading a King Charles spaniel behind
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"They've come up again," murmured Damaris to herself. "I wonder if
+their daughter will come and see them to-morrow? I am sure she does not
+enjoy their visits to town."</p>
+
+<p>A smart motor now claimed her attention. A mother and two very pretty
+daughters, escorted by a handsome man, alighted, and with a great deal
+of laughter and talk swept into the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>A little sigh came from Damaris's lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Such a good time going on, so close to me; and yet I might be in
+another world altogether."</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, Miss, your Uncle Ambrose wants you!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris started at the voice. An elderly parlourmaid stood inside the
+door. She lumped up lightly from her seat, letting her work drop upon
+the carpet, and, throwing her arms above her head, gave a yawn.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming, Stevens. It isn't tea-time, surely?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very close to it," said the maid. "But your Uncle Simeon has brought a
+visitor in."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" sighed the girl. "Another old man, I suppose!"</p>
+
+<p>She followed the maid out of the room. The stairs were dark polished
+oak, and uncarpeted; the banisters beautifully carved; and the
+dark-panelled walls were lined with many gems of art.</p>
+
+<p>Lightly she ran down two flights of stairs, and pushed open the door of
+the big drawing-room, or library as her uncles preferred to call it.</p>
+
+<p>Two old white-haired men were standing by the window talking eagerly to
+a young one. They all turned at Damaris's entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"Damaris, this is your Cousin Dane. You have never seen him. He has
+taken us by surprise. Landed from India this morning. He got sick-leave
+suddenly."</p>
+
+<p>Dane held out his hand in friendly greeting.</p>
+
+<p>He saw and noted the pride and grace of the girlish figure. She wore a
+blue-grey gown, and a few yellow daffodils were tucked into her belt.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin Damaris, isn't it?" he said, a smile lightening up his dark and
+rather stern-cut features. "If not first cousins, we are second, are we
+not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you are second cousins!" said Ambrose Hartbrook sharply.
+"Now, Damaris, see that a room is prepared for Dane at once. You can
+give him the Sheraton room."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris wheeled round and left the room as quickly as she had entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Does my Cousin Damaris live with you?" asked the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, her parents both died when she was a child. She has been at
+school till about three years ago; since then she has made her home
+with us. A good useful girl, but rather sleepy in disposition. I
+daresay she will make a good wife to someone some day."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris caught the words as she closed the door. Her small head raised
+itself proudly, and a hot colour came into her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"If a good wife simply means a good housekeeper, then, Uncle Ambrose,
+never, 'never!'" she muttered to herself.</p>
+
+<p>She was not seen again till dinner time. She entered the library
+then, looking very fresh and girlish in a soft white silk gown. Dane
+Hartbrook's eyes noted her every tone and gesture. She did not speak
+much during dinner, which was served in old-fashioned state, and took a
+full hour to get through.</p>
+
+<p>Then she left her uncles and their guest to their wine, and went back
+to the library, where she sat in a straight-backed carved chair and
+gazed broodingly into the fire. She did not turn her head when the door
+opened, but started when a voice said, close to her ear—</p>
+
+<p>"Thank goodness, a visitor has arrived who is talking furniture shop.
+Now you can tell me what I want to know. Are our uncles in trade? Their
+talk is of nothing but choice objects of art—chiefly chairs and tables."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at him and smiled. He stood opposite her on the
+hearth-rug but did not return her smile. His brows were knitted.</p>
+
+<p>"Do they keep show-rooms?" he persisted. "They talk of the 'Sheraton
+room,' and the 'Chippendale,' and the 'Jacobean,' and the 'Grinling
+Gibbons,' and goodness knows how many others! Uncle Simeon is now
+discoursing upon some old copper urns."</p>
+
+<p>"No, they're not in trade," Damaris said simply; "they've made a hobby
+of antique things, and spend all their money on it. To have a room with
+one flaw or false note in it makes them miserable. Every different
+room depicts a different age. They will show you through the house
+to-morrow. But they won't show you my room. I have taken care to ensure
+privacy there. I have been allowed to pick up odds and ends of no
+particular value scattered over the house, and I've bunched them all
+together, and I don't care a button what period they belong to!"</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was so emphatic that Dane began to smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Simeon writes articles in the 'Connoisseur;' he writes and reads
+more than Uncle Ambrose does. Uncle Ambrose hunts in old curio shops,
+and goes sometimes all over the Continent after some treasure which he
+has discovered can be bought. If you want really to bring horror to
+their hearts, give them some pretty article, new or faked."</p>
+
+<p>She paused. A softer look stole over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"They are very good and kind to me. I don't want to laugh at them or
+criticise them; but with all the world before them and around them, it
+seems such waste to live and breathe in an atmosphere of old furniture!"</p>
+
+<p>Dane drew in a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you do with yourself?" he asked, letting his eyes rest on
+her with pleased interest.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris raised her head proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am never idle," she said, with sweet aloofness in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you have friends of your own?"</p>
+
+<p>For some reason Damaris resented this catechism. She did not reply. She
+would liked to have said, "I am an upper servant in the house—a servant
+without wages. I concoct special polishes for the maids to use upon
+the furniture; I superintend their work and dust the valuable china. I
+am not allowed to pay visits or ask anyone to the house. I am a good
+useful girl, and will stay here until they find a husband for me. And
+it will be a husband of their liking, not mine!"</p>
+
+<p>All this she thought, but pride and innate dignity kept her lips
+closed. Then, with a flash in her eyes, she turned the tables upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"My life is not very interesting. Tell me about yours. Where do you
+live? Why have you come to England? Are you going to stay?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've been in India for ten years—had a coffee and rubber estate out
+there, but had to chuck it on account of bad health. It's rotten luck
+to be told I can't live out there. I sometimes wonder whether a short
+life isn't to be desired. My parents, like yours, are dead. I have a
+sister somewhere; I must hunt her up. We have never corresponded."</p>
+
+<p>"That's interesting," said Damaris, with bright eyes. "I wish I had
+brothers and sisters—anyone belonging to me! What an adventure to go
+through the country hunting them out!"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could look upon it in the light of an adventure. If I had
+come home with pockets full of money, it would be a brighter outlook."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but how dull it is when you have all you want! And there's so much
+work to be done in the world, waiting for people to take it up. I'd
+like to walk out of this house to-morrow, and do something."</p>
+
+<p>He sat down in an easy chair opposite her.</p>
+
+<p>"I've heard that women talk like this at home. They don't out with us.
+Tell me what you would like to do."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at him steadily and gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I will—thank you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>He felt sorry he had quenched her, but he was amused at her attitude.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you what I want to do?" he said. "I want to settle down in
+a home of my own, somewhere. I shouldn't mind farming a bit of land, or
+something of that sort; but no city life for me!"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped short suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ambrose Hartbrook entered the room, followed, in a few moments, by
+his brother Simeon.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," the latter said, rubbing his hands together, "what shall we do
+first, Dane? I want to show you my books. Ambrose wants to show you the
+house."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't the house be better seen in daylight?" queried Dane
+doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Ambrose smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"We never have full daylight in this house," he said. "No, I think the
+electric will serve our purpose perfectly. I should like to show you
+the rooms. We haven't a faked article in them; each a different period,
+and every detail as perfect as we can make them. Let us start at once.
+I will lead the way."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris watched the two eager old men leave the room, the rather
+unwilling young man following them. She smiled to herself, and then
+sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could see the beauty in it all as they see it, I should be
+happier, I do believe," she murmured to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Then she took up her embroidery, but the needle dropped out of her
+fingers. She leaned back in her chair and dreamily watched the dancing
+firelight in front of her.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris did a good deal of dreaming, and her spirit was always ready to
+leap away from her narrow surroundings and career in a Will-o'-the-wisp
+fashion all over the world. To-night she went into the country to a
+thatched roof farm with diamond panes in casement windows. The rooms
+were sweet and dainty, but no antique furniture rested on their floors.
+There was a dairy with yellow bowls of cream, there was an orchard full
+of apple-blossom and daffodils, and there was a young woman sitting out
+in it with a child—no!—a cluster!—quite five sweet children hanging
+round her! And then a husband came marching through the soft green
+grass. But his face was indistinct—and it was not—no, it certainly was
+not the face of Dane Hartbrook!</p>
+
+<p>When she got thus far, she shook herself impatiently and picked up her
+work.</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before her uncles returned, and when they did, she
+stood up and announced her intention of going to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not yet," exclaimed Dane; "it is barely ten o'clock."</p>
+
+<p>But Damaris would not stay. She knew the conversation would be entirely
+upon the worth of the antiquities just shown; and her Uncle Ambrose
+patted her on the shoulder in great good humour.</p>
+
+<p>"Beauty sleep must not be forgotten, eh, Damaris? Run away to bed like
+a good child. We shall sit up for a couple of hours yet. Here, Dane,
+sample these cigars. They come from the East."</p>
+
+<p>So Damaris disappeared, and Dane settled down to listen, with all the
+patience he could muster, to a long dissertation on the old men's hobby.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next morning at breakfast Dane looked across to Damaris and said
+boldly—</p>
+
+<p>"Will you come out with me this morning? I want to find my sister, and
+am going to run down to Richmond on the chance of finding her there."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris hesitated to reply.</p>
+
+<p>"You can go," said her Uncle Simeon.</p>
+
+<p>So, an hour later, Damaris started from the house with bright eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Dane looked at her with half-concealed approval. She was neatly and
+quietly dressed in navy-blue cloth coat and skirt, and a dark blue
+velvet hat. But a dainty little lace collar, and good gloves and boots,
+and a nameless air of distinction with which she carried herself made
+Dane feel proud and pleased as he walked beside her.</p>
+
+<p>"I have never had a day out like this before," she said in an
+apologetic tone. "You must forgive me if I seem ecstatic over it. Uncle
+Ambrose has old-fashioned notions. I am allowed to shop alone, but
+never to go sight-seeing. Stevens must come with me then, and our time
+is limited to two hours. Are we going to have lunch out? How delicious!
+And may we go on the top of a 'bus? Stevens won't, but I always do,
+when I get a chance. I shut my eyes sometimes and fancy myself on the
+top of an old-fashioned coach or four-in-hand. Oh, isn't a spring day
+like this ripping? Look at that basket of flowers! Don't the violets
+smell?"</p>
+
+<p>Dane stopped, bought a big bunch of Neopolitans, and presented it to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris took it with a blush and pleased smile. As she fastened it in
+her jacket, she said—</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think I expected you to give them to me? You must let me
+admire everything to-day, and take no notice. It's my way when I'm
+feeling happy."</p>
+
+<p>She was like a child, so frank and free were her comments on all around
+her.</p>
+
+<p>They took the train to Richmond, and then hired a taxi to take them to
+a certain address which Dane produced out of his pocket-book.</p>
+
+<p>"My sister was lodging here five years ago with an old aunt. It's just
+a toss-up whether she'll be here still."</p>
+
+<p>She was not, and the people of the house knew nothing of her. They were
+new inmates themselves, had barely been there a twelvemonth.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so sorry for you," said Damaris. "What will you do now?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a drive through the park, and then we'll have lunch. The
+'Star and Garter' is no more, I hear, but we'll get food somewhere. Oh,
+I'm not worrying. I'll have another shot or two before I give up. My
+father had some old lawyer living in Bloomsbury. I'll look him up and
+see if he knows of her whereabouts."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris enjoyed every moment of the day. Dane told her of some of his
+Indian experiences. He was a good talker, and she listened entranced.
+She in her turn became a little more communicative. She told him that
+her father had always lived with her two great-uncles, and that he was
+their favourite nephew.</p>
+
+<p>"He met my mother abroad, and I was born in Florence. I always feel
+glad I was born in such a beautiful place. My mother died when I was
+born, and my father brought me straight back to London with my nurse.
+He died when I was five years old. I can remember him quite well. He
+painted beautiful pictures. But he was never very strong, and he caught
+cold when he went down the river one day to sketch, and he never got
+over it.</p>
+
+<p>"The uncles handed me over to an old friend of theirs who kept a home
+school for Indian children. She was the only woman friend they ever
+had. She was very good to me, but I always spent my holidays with the
+uncles, and when I finished school came home to them for good. You
+see, not very much has happened to me yet. But I hope it will. I'm
+always hoping the doors will open and I shall get through to something
+different."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think the door is ajar to-day?" Dane asked, looking down upon
+her with amused interest.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it is open a crack, just enough for me to see through," she
+said; "but I shall walk out of it free one day."</p>
+
+<p>They had lunch at Richmond; then, in the afternoon they returned to
+town, and he took her to a matinee. It was late when they returned, and
+Damaris had only just time to dress for dinner.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncles were most punctilious, and nothing vexed them more than any
+irregularity in their usual hours.</p>
+
+<p>For the rest of the evening, Dane devoted himself to them. Damaris sat
+very silent, retracing every detail of her wonderful day.</p>
+
+<p>And when she sat working in her room the next day, she looked across at
+the hotel opposite with new feelings in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"I have experienced now what the girls experience over there. I shall
+not envy them so much now. I know how it feels to be taken out for the
+day and treated everywhere," she murmured to herself, with elation in
+her soul.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>In the days that followed, she went about a good deal with her cousin
+Dane. Instead of disapproving of their intimacy, her uncles seemed to
+be encouraging it. Dane was not loth to have Damaris as a companion.
+She was fresh and amusing in her somewhat naïve comments on all she
+heard and saw, and he admired her grace and daintiness. He regarded her
+as a typical English girl.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris began to wonder why she did not like him better. She came to
+the conclusion that it was because he was so very worldly-wise. In all
+his dealings with men and women, Dane seemed to have this principle
+underlying them: "How can I use them to my best advantage?" And this
+jarred on the girl's high ideals, and upon her conceptions of life as
+it ought to be lived.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a dreamer," said Dane, laughing, one day. "Dreamers are
+generally failures in this world."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they? Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because their eyes are always on the unattainable, and they miss the
+opportunities of improving their present actual circumstances."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris thought over this.</p>
+
+<p>"The man with the muck-rake in Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress' was
+condemned," she said thoughtfully. "He missed the sight of the crown!"</p>
+
+<p>"I always did think Bunyan lacking in judgment," said Dane. "That man
+was making the most of his opportunities, and it is those who make the
+most of the poorest surroundings that get on in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, deliver me from that muck-rake,'" quoted Damaris softly to
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>And Dane looked at her with impatient amusement. He was being
+continually surprised by her independence of thought.</p>
+
+<p>At first, he treated her as a young unsophisticated girl. His tone was
+slightly patronising. He was ready to give her information on every
+point, and expected her to acquiesce humbly in all that he said. But
+he found she had a way of looking at him through her long eyelashes as
+if she were summing him up. And more than once, the enigmatical smile
+and silence with which she had met some of his assertions left him
+doubtful, and slightly uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Yet they were the best of friends. When he was away from her, he found
+himself counting the time to when he should be with her again. And she
+enjoyed the novelty of interchanging thoughts and ideas with someone
+who did not, like her uncles, consider that a woman's voice should be
+silent in the society of men.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_2">CHAPTER II</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>ENGAGED</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"MISS DAMARIS, my dear, trouble is on us! Come quick! Mr. Ambrose has
+had some kind of stroke!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Stevens who came in upon Damaris as she was working in her quiet
+upper room. The girl was feeling dull and rather flat. Dane had been
+with them as an inmate of their home for two months. Now he had gone—he
+was still fruitlessly looking for his sister. But latterly, he had
+seemed to lose interest in her, and had been rather engrossed with some
+friends of his whom he had known in India, and who were now at home. He
+was at present with them in Scotland.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had met them once, and had not been very favourably impressed
+by them, but that was perhaps because they had not made themselves very
+pleasant to her. Mrs. Welbeck was a very smart-looking widow with three
+marriageable daughters, all of whom were older than Damaris, and very
+lively go-ahead girls. They seemed to have plenty of money, and were
+looking about for a country house in which they hoped to settle.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had felt, as she listened to their talk, how little she knew of
+the world in which Dane had lived, and how ignorant and unsophisticated
+she must appear to these wide-awake knowledgeable girls. When Dane had
+gone, she found herself continually wondering whether he would soon
+write and announce his engagement to one of these girls. She felt that
+either of them would have him, but was not sure whether he meant to
+marry at present, he seemed so well contented and satisfied with his
+present state. He had ingratiated himself into the good graces of his
+uncles, and had delighted them by his keen interest in some of their
+treasures. And they, as well as Damaris, had missed him very much since
+he had left them.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's thoughts, as she sat at her window and worked, had been in
+Scotland. She roused herself with a frightened start at Stevens's
+words. Illness of any sort had never come near her. She did not know
+how to deal with it. Her Uncle Ambrose used to boast that he had never
+had a day's illness in his life. Her Uncle Simeon was not so strong. He
+would get heavy chest colds, but Stevens would nurse him through them,
+and Damaris felt no responsibility about them.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Stevens, what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've just found him on the floor in the library. Mr. Simeon has helped
+cook and me, and we have got him into his bed-room and on his bed. Mr.
+Simeon has rushed off for the doctor, but Mary and cook are no good at
+all, they're all in a shake, and I must get hot bottles to his feet. I
+want you to sit with him till I come back."</p>
+
+<p>Talking rapidly, Stevens led the way to the bed-room, and Damaris
+followed her feeling dazed and bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>Then ensued some very weary troubled days. The doctor came and went;
+Damaris developed into a very capable nurse. She and Stevens attended
+upon the invalid entirely between them. He was unconscious for some
+days, then recovered consciousness, and with difficulty tried to make
+his wishes known.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>One afternoon Damaris was alone with him. He had been sleeping and was
+lying with closed eyes, when she suddenly heard him trying to pronounce
+her name. She bent over him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes uncle, dear? What is it? Can I do anything for you?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked up at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You must marry him," he said feebly. "A nice boy—knows the worth of
+things. We've talked it over—he's willing—and then—you'll get your
+share."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt the blood rush into her cheeks. She felt that her uncle's
+mind was wandering.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up at her uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—yes," she said, soothingly; "it will be all right. You are getting
+better, Uncle Ambrose. You will soon be all right again."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his head feebly in dissent, but lay still. Then he spoke again—</p>
+
+<p>"Simeon—he knows—codicil—he will tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Damaris again; "it will be all right. I will ask him. You
+try to sleep again for a little."</p>
+
+<p>He said no more, but after a time his breathing became so laboured and
+hard that Damaris slipped out of the room and called Stevens.</p>
+
+<p>Those were his last words to her. He died two hours afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Simeon Hartbrook was inconsolable. He wired for Dane, but Dane was
+touring through the Highlands with his friends, and could not be found
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris and her uncle were the only ones who attended the funeral. She
+felt an immense pity for her Uncle Simeon. He seemed to be literally
+crushed by his loss, and was quite unable to settle any of his
+brother's affairs. It was very wet and stormy at the cemetery and he
+contracted a chill.</p>
+
+<p>Stevens put him to bed like a child when he came home, but he insisted
+upon seeing Damaris, for he said he had business to discuss with her.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to him, he looked at her helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am feeling very ill, my dear. If I don't get well, I want to tell
+you about—" He hesitated. "I can't remember—but Dane knows—he will
+explain—we felt he would value our things more than you would. He would
+not sell them. And you've been a good girl, and when you are married,
+he will do everything for you. He seemed to come just when we wanted
+him. It will be all right for you—but Ambrose thought it best."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm sure it is all right," murmured Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>She began to wonder if her two uncles had really been trying to make
+up a match between her and Dane. Her pride rebelled against such an
+idea, but she could say nothing to disturb her uncle at this juncture.
+She had a hopeless helpless feeling that everyone round her was going
+to die. If it had not been for Stevens, who never lost her cheerful
+composure, Damaris could hardly have got through those days.</p>
+
+<p>When Dane eventually made his appearance, he was met at the door by
+Stevens who said reproachfully—</p>
+
+<p>"You are too late, sir. You have been wanted badly. Both the masters
+are gone. I knew Mr. Simeon would never outlive his brother for long,
+and poor Miss Damaris has had everything to do and settle, with nobody
+to help her. She's fair worn out with the shock and distress of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness!" ejaculated Dane, aghast. "What a tragedy! And in such a
+short time!"</p>
+
+<p>He went into the library and sat down on a chair as if he were stunned.
+Damaris came to him there. It struck him that she carried herself
+regally, and spoke to him in rather a cold, detached tone—</p>
+
+<p>"Stevens has told you. Did you get none of our wires?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only two," he answered. Then he sprang up and seized hold of her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"You poor child! How I have failed you! Just when I ought to have been
+by your side, doing everything for you! And I was longing to be back—to
+put my fate in your hands. I wanted to have spoken before I left; but
+somehow I was afraid. I hoped being away a little might show you—well,
+you know—you did not seem ready to meet me half-way. Oh, what am I
+saying? Damaris, dearest, you will never be alone or friendless if you
+make me a happy man. I want to have the right to shield—protect—love
+you. Will you let me have that right?"</p>
+
+<p>One would have thought that Dane had chosen a most unpropitious moment
+to begin his wooing; but Damaris was feeling unhinged and desperately
+lonely. She had hardly known how to pass her days. The shock of her
+uncles' deaths had been great. She had always been treated like a
+child, and not allowed to act independently or have any responsibility.
+Now she was alone in this big house, and had to settle and arrange
+everything, with no help from anyone but Stevens. She felt incompetent,
+ignorant and forlorn, and longed for someone to be at her side to
+advise her. She had hoped that Dane would write or come; she had
+watched expectantly for some news of him day after day.</p>
+
+<p>His impulsive speech and compassionate eyes, his tender hold of her,
+drove away the slight feeling of annoyance she had been cherishing. She
+had thought him selfish and unfeeling to stay away at such a crisis;
+now she realised that he had brought with him a sense of comfort and
+safety, and that she never wanted him to leave her again.</p>
+
+<p>When his arm drew her gently to him, she did not resist; she only gave
+a long quivering sigh, and said—</p>
+
+<p>"It is good to have you back again, Dane. I thought I could stand
+alone, but I find I can't. Take care of me."</p>
+
+<p>And then she began to cry, and Dane rested her head against his
+shoulder, and kissed away her tears and comforted her.</p>
+
+<p>A little later Stevens was taken into their confidence. She did not
+seem surprised at their news.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Ambrose mentioned it to me before he was taken ill. He seemed so
+pleased you appreciated the house so much, Mr. Dane. He said to me,
+'twas good to know you'd care for the things they had loved, when they
+were gone. It seemed as if he felt he would be taken soon."</p>
+
+<p>And Stevens wiped her moist eyes as she spoke. She had been with her
+masters for over twenty years, and had a sincere affection for them.</p>
+
+<p>Dane went away, but only to settle himself into the hotel opposite, and
+the next day he came over to the house and had a long interview with
+Mr. Hunter the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hunter was a little wiry wizened man with a very big forehead and
+beetling eyebrows, beneath which his piercing eyes would transfix and
+awe all who transacted business with him.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I can see the will?" Dane said. "I understood from my uncles
+that, in the first instance, they had left everything to their niece,
+Miss Hartbrook, but that they were so anxious that we should make a
+match of it that they told me that they had drawn up a codicil in which
+we were made co-legatees upon our wedding-day. Is this correct? They
+need not have troubled to alter the will, Miss Hartbrook and I would
+have come together without it. A case of love at first sight!"</p>
+
+<p>He gave a little awkward laugh, and felt annoyed at Mr. Hunter's
+glittering gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear it. Very glad," said Mr. Hunter. "I have known
+Miss Hartbrook from a child. She, in my opinion, deserves to be sole
+legatee; but your uncles were peculiar in their attitude towards women.
+They seemed afraid that she might marry someone unsuitable—someone who
+might not appreciate or value their hoarded treasures—so they wanted to
+safeguard her; and when you told them you hoped to make her your wife,
+they seemed to think her future was secure."</p>
+
+<p>He paused, then cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"You may like to see the codicil. Everything is left unconditionally to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not unconditionally?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hunter handed him a copy of the will. The brothers had made their
+will together in a very quaint fashion, but it was all perfectly legal.</p>
+
+<p>Dane read the codicil in silence, then he handed it back to the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it will make no difference to Miss Hartbrook," said Mr.
+Hunter; "for her uncles seemed quite assured that she would marry you.
+Apart from you, she will be left penniless."</p>
+
+<p>"But she never will be apart from me," said Dane hastily. He got up
+from his seat and paced the room. Then he stood still.</p>
+
+<p>"Does she know this? Has she seen this codicil?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mr. Hunter; "as she does not benefit directly by the will,
+I saw no need to let her read it. She has never asked about it, but I
+think that she imagines that the estate is divided between you. I don't
+approve of the codicil myself, and I told your uncles so. I was such an
+old friend of theirs that I felt I had a right to speak. But, as I say,
+I hope it will make no difference to Miss Hartbrook."</p>
+
+<p>"She need never know," said Dane quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Hunter and he began to discuss business matters together;
+and when the lawyer eventually left, Dane still paced the room with a
+frowning brow, and set determined lips.</p>
+
+<p>"What a fool I was to be in such a hurry," he muttered to himself.</p>
+
+<p>But when he next met Damaris, he was the tender demonstrative lover.
+She was very sweet, but still bore herself somewhat proudly. He felt
+that he did not yet wholly possess her heart.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Stevens watched over her like a dragon. She allowed her to go out with
+Dane, but did not encourage him to come much to the house.</p>
+
+<p>"You are alone here," she said; "and I know how careful young ladies
+have to be. I wish Mr. Dane would find his sister. She would be good
+company for you."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt very lonely in the big house. She sometimes went through
+the beautiful rooms with Stevens, but she could take no pleasure in
+their contents.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a waste of life, Stevens," she said one day, "to spend all your
+money and strength on things that you have to leave behind you when you
+die. I keep thinking of that verse in the Bible:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'Then whose shall those things be which thou hast provided?'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"They are yours, Miss Damaris—they will be when you're married," said
+Stevens, who could not follow her young mistress's train of thought.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked round her with a little whimsical smile. She was
+standing in an oak-panelled Jacobean-furnished room. The great bed with
+its tapestry hangings, the old chests, and beautiful chairs, the heavy
+silver candlesticks on the carved oak mantelpiece, all seemed to her
+gloomy in the extreme, though the bright sunshine was streaming through
+the windows.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't sleep in this room, or take it for my own, Stevens, for
+a hundred pounds," she said; "and yet how Uncle Ambrose used to love
+it!" Her voice faltered. "Oh, Stevens, I do want them back. I feel
+frightened of the future. They were always so safe, so reliable!"</p>
+
+<p>"They were very fond of you, Miss Damaris; and there, now—did I not
+tell you what Mr. Simeon said to me not long before his end? He said,
+'Tell Miss Damaris that her mother's escritoire in my study is hers, as
+well as the furnishing of her own room. The rest will be her husband's
+property.' I don't quite make out what he meant, poor gentleman, for
+the whole house is yours, surely."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't seen the will," said Damaris, in hesitating tones; "but Mr.
+Dane seems to think they are his. And of course, when we marry, there
+will be no question of to whom they belong."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Damaris, my dear, I've known you from a child, but you don't
+appear to be over-eager about this marriage. If so be as you'll have
+enough left to you—and surely the masters have put you first—I'll be
+willing to go with you anywhere you like. But don't marry if you're not
+sure whether it will be a happy thing for you."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a dear, Stevens," said Damaris, tears rising suddenly to her
+eyes; "but I am in no doubt as to what I ought to do. I am glad you
+told me about my mother's writing-table. I would like it moved up to my
+room as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>Stevens bustled away to see that this was done.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris crossed the room and opened one of the windows. Then, kneeling
+on a low stool, she leant her elbows on the window-sill and propped
+her chin in her two hands. She gazed down into the busy streets below
+dreamily. Her spirits had been so crushed by the calamity that had
+befallen her that at first she had simply acquiesced in all that came
+to her. Even Dane's proposal had almost left her unmoved. She regarded
+it as inevitable, because she felt that her uncles had wished him to
+share in their personal estate, and that it was the only way in which
+justice could be done him.</p>
+
+<p>And Dane was very affectionate and tender with her for the first few
+days. She was soothed and comforted by his presence. Lately she had not
+seen so much of him. Mrs. Welbeck and her daughter were back in town,
+and he spent a good deal of his time with them. He naturally did not
+feel his uncles' deaths so deeply as Damaris did, and was vexed with
+her for refusing to go to entertainments with him.</p>
+
+<p>Now, as she looked out of the window, the lethargic state of her
+mind seemed to be passing from her. A sudden vista of freedom
+and independence came to her, of taking Stevens as her maid, and
+travelling, of seeing some of the places to which she had always longed
+to go. She drew a long breath. She looked backwards half-fearfully into
+the sombre bed-room behind her.</p>
+
+<p>"Did my uncles expect me to live in this house for ever and ever?
+Shall I never have any change? If I marry Dane, shall I still have to
+stay in these old rooms, and sit at home with my work, whilst he goes
+out and enjoys himself with other women? I feel that this will be my
+life. And oh! I just long to break away from it all! How often I used
+to wish that some change would come into my life. Now it has come—the
+door seems open—and yet I can't go out! And I'm afraid I don't like
+the idea of marrying Dane. I don't feel quite sure of him—but I have
+promised—and I seem shut-up to it!"</p>
+
+<p>She sighed at such thoughts, then saw Mr. Hunter crossing the street
+towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>She knew he was still busy over some of her uncles' papers. They had
+made him their chief executor, and he came nearly every day to the
+library to overhaul the contents of a big writing bureau that stood
+there. A sudden impulse took her downstairs. She determined to ask
+him the exact terms of the will. She had asked Dane more than once,
+but he had waived the subject, and she had a longing to know exactly
+how she was situated. When she entered the room, she found Mr. Hunter
+just settling down to work, but he turned at once towards her with a
+fatherly smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Miss Damaris, how are you? Why are you not out this lovely
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope I am not interrupting you," said Damaris, with dignity; "but
+I think I have a right to know about my uncles' will. I have never
+been told, and I should like you to explain it now. Have they left
+everything between myself and my cousin? Uncle Ambrose told me some
+time ago that I should come in for it all, but from what he said to
+me when he was ill, I fancy he must have made some alteration. They
+were so fond of Dane. They seemed to think he appreciated all their
+treasures more than I did."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hunter hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You place me in an awkward position," he said. "Has not your cousin
+told you? It will make no difference to you. Happily you two young
+people fell in love with each other before the codicil was drawn up."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the codicil?" asked Damaris. "I really have a right to see it,
+if it has anything to do with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you are not a child, my dear, and so I will tell you. As I
+say, it will make no difference to you. Your uncles revoked their
+former will, and instead of leaving everything to you, left it all to
+your cousin unconditionally. I did not approve of the alteration, I
+protested against it; but your uncles were determined. Mr. Dane took
+their hearts by storm. You know their old-fashioned notion, that women
+were helpless as far as money or business was concerned. They were
+convinced that your welfare would be considered by your cousin, and
+that your marriage to him would be an accomplished fact."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at him with clear steady eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you mean to say that I am penniless, and that it will be no
+advantage to my cousin if he marries me? Can you tell me when he knew
+this?"</p>
+
+<p>"When I showed him the codicil. It was a surprise to him as it is to
+you. He had always thought that you would be the chief benefiter by the
+will."</p>
+
+<p>"And upon what date did you show him the will?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hunter referred to his pocket-book and told her.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris stood before him very straight and slim. And as Mr. Hunter's
+keen eyes met hers, he knew that this was no weak helpless girl who
+would sink under the blow which she had just received.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you ought to have told me this before," she said gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I ought," he replied. "It was weakness on my part not to have
+done so. But you asked no questions, and I knew what a troublous time
+you had had of it, and thought it best to defer the information. It
+will make no practical difference to you, will it?"</p>
+
+<p>"All the difference in the world," she said.</p>
+
+<p>And she walked out of the room, still carrying her head like a young
+queen, but with a heart as heavy as lead.</p>
+
+<p>She went up to her own room, which was filled with the afternoon
+sunshine. Stevens and the maids had been there, for her mother's
+beautiful secretaire was in the window. It was of Chinese workmanship,
+so beautifully inlaid with mother-of-pearl that it was iridescent.
+Inside, it was fitted with sapphire-blue velvet. As a little child, she
+had loved to pass her small fingers over its surface. But now, for the
+time, she did not heed it.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down at the open window with troubled eyes. She knew now that
+Dane had proposed to her before he had been told of the codicil; that
+he had been under the impression that he was offering himself to a
+young heiress. Was this the explanation of his gradual coolness and
+indifference to her? She could not but acknowledge to herself that, as
+a lover, he left much to be desired.</p>
+
+<p>"But then," she told herself, "I am not in love with him. I don't know
+why I said 'Yes,' except that I knew the uncles wished it; and I was
+feeling so lonely and miserable, that it was nice to feel that somebody
+cared for me. What a shock it must have been to him when he was shown
+the codicil! Oh, I hope I don't wrong him, but I think—I think that
+money is more to him than a wife. I never have felt that I am worth
+very much in his eyes. I am not smart enough, or amusing enough to
+capture his heart. He much prefers to be with the Welbecks. It is good
+of him to have kept me in ignorance of my position. But I am thankful
+that I am ignorant no longer!"</p>
+
+<p>As she sat, thinking deeply, she longed as she had often longed before,
+to have some woman to advise her.</p>
+
+<p>And then Stevens came to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Dane has called. Will you see him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said Damaris with decision. "Don't show him up here. I
+will go to him."</p>
+
+<p>Dane came forward, when he saw her, with outstretched hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Damaris, dear, will you come out with me? I have been so busy the last
+few days that I fear you will think I have forgotten you."</p>
+
+<p>He drew her to him and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris turned a little from him so that his kiss only touched the edge
+of her cheek; but he did not appear to notice anything amiss.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I will come out this afternoon," she said, "it is too
+hot."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you might like to come round to the Welbecks. Mrs. Welbeck
+has called upon you, hasn't she? She's so anxious to befriend you. For
+my sake, you won't repel her advances, will you? She really would be a
+good friend for you, Damaris. She knows everyone worth knowing, and you
+can't always shut yourself up in this old house away from the world."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Dane, it is barely a month since my uncles died. Nobody could
+expect me to be out and about just yet."</p>
+
+<p>Dane made an impatient movement.</p>
+
+<p>"You're so old-fashioned! Mrs. Welbeck was only saying yesterday that
+it must be very bad for you to be so much alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it is," said Damaris quietly; "but I am accustomed to it. I
+wish you could find your sister. It would be nice to know her."</p>
+
+<p>Dane looked a little uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant to have told you," he said. "I did trace her—at least, I heard
+all about her. But our family trouble has driven it out of my head.
+And I don't know that I should do her any good by going to see her. It
+might just unsettle her."</p>
+
+<p>"Your sister, Dane?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris showed the amazement she felt.</p>
+
+<p>He gave a short laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"She's doing all right for herself. She's working in the City. The
+honest truth is, if I turned up, she would think I ought to keep
+her—especially now. I didn't know she was so badly off. The aunt she
+lived with left her nothing—old wretch! Her money went to her son who's
+abroad somewhere. I don't feel like having Nellie on me for good and
+all. She would expect to live with me—and how would you like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think she is very like you, Dane?"</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't a notion. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"She might be very different. She might prefer her independence. I
+can't think that you mean to leave her alone, and never let her know
+that you are in England."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll see her some time or other," said Dane vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>There was silence between them. He was conscious of her disapproval,
+and was annoyed with her in consequence.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I ask you again, Damaris, to come round to the Welbecks with me.
+Do it to please me."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it their 'At Home' day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I really cannot. Mrs. Welbeck ought not to expect me. I won't
+keep you, Dane, as you're going. Come round another day, and let us go
+out of London for a day. I should really enjoy that."</p>
+
+<p>She parted from him pleasantly with a smile on her lips, and watched
+him go out of the house and walk down the street. She fancied she could
+see the relief he felt, in his light easy step and the swing of his
+broad shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>And then she turned to go upstairs again, and these words escaped her—</p>
+
+<p>"You will soon be rid of me, Dane. You will not have long to wait."</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_3">CHAPTER III</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>FREEDOM AT LAST</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>IT was the next morning that Damaris sat at her mother's escritoire.
+There were some old papers in it, and the little drawers needed
+tidying. But she found nothing of any value—a few receipted bills, some
+odd bits of sealing-wax, and some old-fashioned thin envelopes and
+paper. Then she opened a little secret drawer, and in it she found some
+old letters. They had evidently lain there unnoticed for many years.
+The ink had turned brown. She took them tenderly into her hand; they
+were addressed to her mother, and were all of them dated from "The
+Hall, Little Marley."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had always imagined her mother was an Italian of rather humble
+birth, as her uncles never mentioned her, and when she asked once if
+she had no relations, they answered severely—</p>
+
+<p>"We are your relations. Are we not enough?"</p>
+
+<p>Her fingers trembled as she opened the letters and read their contents.
+They seemed to be all written by a sister of her mother's, evidently
+a much younger girl than herself, and were addressed to Villa Rosini,
+Florence. This was the first one she read—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY DARLING LILIAN,—HOW I loved getting a letter from you at last!
+Papa cannot prevent us writing to each other, can he? And what a
+heavenly life you must be leading! Miss Graves and I struggle on in the
+schoolroom, and mamma asks daily if I am improving in my studies. Oh,
+why did papa give us such a prig of a stepmother? I'm only happy when I
+get away into the stables, or ride off on Peter and have a good gallop
+over the common. Morris has just left the 'Britannia'—he's been home,
+and we've had fine fun together. Give my love to your Hubert. I hope I
+shall meet a handsome man like him when I grow up, who will marry me
+quickly before mamma can stop it. When I look at fat old Colonel Gascon
+in church, and think what Hubert saved you from, I feel I ought not to
+grumble at our separation. If mamma didn't keep up the bad feeling,
+papa would have you home again with Hubert, but she nags on about the
+disgrace you have been to the family, and what shocking characters all
+artists are! And then papa thinks he must agree with her. Did I tell
+you that Uncle Fred had discovered Hubert's queer old uncles in London?
+He said they were City people—but quite educated, and mad on collecting
+old furniture!<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;">"Your loving—</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 17em;">"BARBIE."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>The others were written in the same strain, mentioning the unhappy
+atmosphere at home, and breathing rebellion against the rule of the
+stepmother. Damaris was keenly interested in the discovery of her
+mother's relatives and home. It was a revelation to her that instead
+of her mother being socially inferior to her father—from her parents'
+point of view—she was his superior.</p>
+
+<p>She sat for hours with these letters on her lap, reading and re-reading
+them, trying to fit in missing links, and picturing to herself this
+young aunt writing so lovingly to the absent elder sister.</p>
+
+<p>"They were all written before I was born. I wonder if they ever knew of
+my existence. Father used to tell me how he hurried home to his uncles
+when my mother died. It is strange that they never made enquiries about
+me. I suppose they wouldn't care about a small baby. I wonder if they
+are still living?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris sat lost in thought, and was only roused by the luncheon gong.
+She said nothing to Stevens of her discovery. For the time, she kept it
+to herself.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Two or three days after, Dane surprised her by coming to the house
+about ten o'clock in the morning. He looked very alert, and informed
+her that two men from Christie's were coming by appointment to look
+over the house.</p>
+
+<p>"They've heard how many treasures are in it, and are very keen to see
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"What possible business is it of theirs?" said Damaris rather loftily.
+"I suppose you know that our uncles would never allow any dealer or
+trader in old furniture to enter the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah well, times have changed. I wonder if you have any idea, Damaris,
+how much some of this old stuff would fetch at Christie's sales. They
+would figure in many thousands."</p>
+
+<p>"But as you are not going to sell anything, it doesn't matter."</p>
+
+<p>Dane looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to sell every bit of it," he said. "Why should I not? Do I
+want these immaculate Sheraton and Chippendale suites? I want money,
+and plenty of it. You shall choose any few bits for yourself, Damaris;
+but I am arranging with Christie for a sale as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>"And they left everything to you because they thought you valued it all
+as they did!" She said no more, but walked upstairs away from him.</p>
+
+<p>Dane shrugged his shoulders and went on with his arrangements.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>And as Damaris in her sitting-room upstairs heard the tramp of the
+men's feet up and down, the stairs and in and out of the rooms, she
+murmured to herself—</p>
+
+<p>"It is enough to make the ghosts of my uncles appear and walk through
+the house!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she started up from her seat, for a scheme that she had been
+turning over in her head now seemed perfectly feasible.</p>
+
+<p>"If he does it, I shall do it too. I want ready money more than he
+does. But I won't take one penny from him, and he might feel obliged to
+offer me some. Oh, I am as free as air at last! It would be bondage of
+the bitterest kind to live my life with him. Money is what he loves, no
+one or nothing else occupies his heart."</p>
+
+<p>So, very quietly and determinedly, Damaris began to act for herself.
+She did not even take Stevens into her confidence. She went to a man
+who had worked for her uncles for years. He was a dealer in antique
+furniture and curios. And she brought him up to her sitting-room and
+sold him then and there everything that was of value in it.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to her mother's secretaire, she hesitated. The dealer
+seemed keenly anxious to buy it. It had been given to her mother, she
+knew, by her uncles as a wedding present. Her Uncle Ambrose had been
+travelling through Italy, had come across it in Florence, and had
+despatched it to the young couple's villa there. Her father had brought
+it home with him, as his young wife had loved it.</p>
+
+<p>After some discussion, Damaris agreed to let the dealer have it for a
+certain sum of money considerably under its value. She would let him
+know in three months' time if she wished to have it again. In fact,
+as she acknowledged to herself, she pawned it for some ready money.
+He asked when he might fetch the things away, and she told him in two
+days' time.</p>
+
+<p>Then quietly and expeditiously, she began to pack some of her clothes
+in a light suit-case. All this was done in secrecy. Stevens wondered at
+her young mistress's silence, but there was something in the sparkle of
+her eyes, and in the animation of her voice, that made her hope she was
+recovering her health and spirits.</p>
+
+<p>And then Damaris suggested to Stevens to take her usual monthly
+holiday. At first she had difficulty in making her do it.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like leaving you, Miss Damaris, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"But I want to be left. I am not at all lonely, and I mean to go out
+to-morrow myself."</p>
+
+<p>"With Mr. Dane?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; not with him. I am all right, Stevens. I do assure you I shall be.
+And I am happier than I have been for a long time. The future seems
+full of possibilities to me."</p>
+
+<p>Stevens looked at her and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You are young, and the world is before you, miss. I am glad you are
+happy. Mr. Dane will settle down soon, I hope. I shall be at ease when
+you are married. You are so lonely now."</p>
+
+<p>No more was said.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Stevens departed for her home in the country at ten o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>At eleven, Damaris ordered a taxi, and with her suit-case and her
+dressing-bag in her hand, went off to Paddington Station. There was a
+flush on her cheeks and a light in her eyes that had not been there for
+many a long day.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon Dane called to see her. He was handed a note by the
+housemaid, and this was the contents of it—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY DEAR DANE,—I have slipped away from you for good and all. Our
+engagement was a farce. I don't know how we have managed to persist in
+it these last few weeks. I do appreciate your goodness in not having
+told me of the alteration of the will, but I am perfectly certain that
+you will be relieved than otherwise at my decision. We are not suited
+to each other, Dane. I think we have both realised this lately. I felt
+I could not stay to argue the point with you, and I am in a hurry to
+get away, so forgive my hasty departure. Now I know why you are loth to
+make yourself known to your sister, I feel the sooner I make room for
+her the better. You will do something for her, will you not? I shall
+like to think that you will. I am leaving no address, but I have made
+my own plans, and am very happy about my future. Perhaps one day we may
+meet again. The house is now your home, and not mine, and so you cannot
+expect me to stay in it.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 14.5em;">"Your affectionate cousin,—</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 25.5em;">"DAMARIS."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Dane swore when he read this, and then, pacing the loom in his usual
+restless way, he came to the conclusion that Damaris was right, and
+they really had nothing in common, nor were in the slightest way suited
+to become husband and wife.</p>
+
+<p>"She's pretty and well-bred, and isn't a fool, but she's so prudish!"
+he said to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Selfishly, he never gave her future a thought.</p>
+
+<p>But when he met Stevens the next day, the vials of that good woman's
+wrath were let loose upon him.</p>
+
+<p>She made him read the letter Damaris had left for her—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY DEAR OLD STEVENS,—I can see how round your eyes will get when you
+come back and find me gone! I had to run away from you, for you would
+have cried and remonstrated and refused to let me go, and there was
+really nothing else for me to do. I have discovered that I am left
+absolutely penniless, and the house is Mr. Dane's, and I will not
+be dependent on him for charity. For, Stevens, dear, after fighting
+against it for some weeks, I know for certain now that I made a great
+mistake in becoming engaged to him. He and I are absolutely unsuited to
+each other, and the more I see of him, the more convinced I am of it.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Don't fret for a moment about me. I have money, for I have sold the
+contents of my room, and I have a small balance of my dress allowance
+in the bank. I know exactly what I mean to do. I am out on an
+adventure, and I thrill when I think of it. I shall be perfectly wise
+and prudent and proper. I shall get into no scrape at all. And, later
+on, I may write to you and tell you where I am. But not just yet. I
+know you would have liked to come away with me, but I'm afraid I could
+not have afforded to keep you with me. And you might not have approved
+of my intentions. Stay with Mr. Dane if you can. But I have your home
+address, and I can always write to you there.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Mr. Dane is selling all our uncles' treasures. How it would break
+their hearts if they were alive! I felt I wanted to get out of the
+house before Christie's vans came to remove it all. No more for now.
+I feel like a bird flying out of his cage. Good-bye, and a thousand
+thanks for all your kindness and devotedness.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">"Yours always affectionately,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 23em;">"DAMARIS."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"Now, sir, what are you going to do? The poor child casting herself out
+in the streets with hardly a penny in her purse! And I don't wonder
+at it; for you, who said you were going to wed her, leaving her alone
+day after day to her sorrow, and she knowing you were off to enjoy
+yourself with your fine London ladies! 'Tis enough to make her march
+off in disgust of heart; but where she is and what she is doing is past
+my understanding! Oh, it was a sorry day when your foot crossed our
+threshold!</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Damaris gave up her young life and spent all her beauty and
+freshness in pleasing two old men, who always told her they would leave
+her their all. And then you come along and you made my poor masters
+believe in you; and you vowed to them how you adored their treasures,
+and they thought and said to me how much more you cared for it all than
+dear Miss Damaris, and you all the time laughing in your sleeve at
+them. And no sooner do they lie under the ground than you set to work
+to sell what they have spent their lives in collecting.</p>
+
+<p>"But I would forgive you that treachery; yes, I would, with all my
+heart, if you had the least bit of love for my sweet young lady. You
+professed that you cared for her; you led my masters to believe you
+did. Do you think they meant her, poor child, to be turned out of
+her old home penniless? If any harm comes to her, you will be the
+cause of it. You've treated her as no gentleman would treat a dog.
+You forced yourself upon her when you thought she had the money, and
+when you found the money would be yours without her, you turned the
+cold shoulder and despised and neglected her. And you've driven her
+away—she, a poor innocent girl who knows nothing of the world's wicked
+ways—out now without a soul to protect or care for her. Are you going
+to sit here doing nothing? Isn't there ways of tracing and finding the
+lost? Don't you mean to do it?"</p>
+
+<p>Stevens gasped for breath.</p>
+
+<p>Dane had listened to her tirade with amused indifference; but once
+or twice he felt the sting of her tongue. But he was not going to be
+browbeat by a woman. He answered her very sternly—</p>
+
+<p>"If you weren't in a very hysterical state, Stevens, I should give
+it to you well for your impertinence and foolishness. I am as vexed
+as you are at Miss Hartbrook's disappearance. She is behaving like
+a silly foolish child. We shall doubtless hear from her in a day or
+two, or from the friends to whom she has gone. Of course, I shall make
+immediate inquiries for her. Her nerves must be much upset to make her
+behave so. But as her affianced husband, I consider she has treated me
+extremely badly. She certainly does want to see more of the world and
+have her mind broadened. She has secluded herself in this gloomy old
+house and refused to come about with me till she has got all kinds of
+delusions and false fancies into her head. I am not going to be cast on
+one side in such a manner. And when I find her and bring her back here,
+I shall show her that it is she who has behaved badly and in a most
+dishonourable and treacherous manner!"</p>
+
+<p>He walked out of the room, leaving a tearful Stevens gazing after him
+in a dumbfounded fashion. He did in his own way try to trace Damaris,
+but days passed, and he was entirely unsuccessful.</p>
+
+<p>He thought that she was swallowed up in the great metropolis. Neither
+he nor Stevens had any idea that she had gone out of London.</p>
+
+<p>Stevens knew that she had no friends, and every day she would roam up
+and down the streets and parks, hoping to come across her.</p>
+
+<p>Then Dane suddenly paid off all the servants, Stevens amongst them,
+emptied the house of all that was in it and shut it up, went to Paris
+with Mrs. Welbeck and her daughters, and never mentioned Damaris by
+name.</p>
+
+<p>Stevens went home, comforting herself with Damaris's promise to write
+to her there.</p>
+
+<p>Six weeks afterwards, Dane's approaching marriage with the youngest
+Miss Welbeck was announced in the "Morning Post."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Damaris was pursuing her own plans with much deliberation of
+purpose.</p>
+
+<p>As her train steamed out of Paddington station, she felt she was on the
+threshold of a new life. She was thrilled to her finger tips with the
+excitement of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I know what a runaway feels like," she said to herself, as she
+gazed out at the country to which she was so swiftly passing. "I ought
+to feel frightened and depressed at my uncertain future. I don't even
+know where I am going to sleep to-night. But there are inns in every
+village, I know, and there must be one in Marley. How little I thought
+I should be so delighted to get away from Dane! When first he came, I
+admired him so much; but lately he has felt like a regular old man of
+the sea on my shoulders. He looks as handsome as ever he did, but it's
+his mind that is so sordid and mean. I felt contaminated by it when I
+talked to him."</p>
+
+<p>Then she began to muse upon her plans.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had determined to seek out her relatives. She had made a note
+of the address on the old letters she had found in her mother's desk,
+and she was going down to the village of Marley to see if any of the
+family were still left in the neighbourhood. She did not intend to make
+herself known to them directly. She hoped, if her grandfather were
+dead, that her mother's young sister might be still living. She was
+her hope, for Damaris felt that she would be received by her for her
+mother's sake.</p>
+
+<p>In a little bag tied round her neck and secreted under her dress was
+the whole of her property in bank notes. She was not an inefficient
+housekeeper, and she calculated that she could live for many months in
+a quiet way upon what she possessed. Not a shade of anxiety for the
+future dimmed her outlook.</p>
+
+<p>As she sat back in a third-class railway carriage, her grey eyes were
+full of dreams: her lips closed with determined resolve. And her heart
+was beating unevenly, for the spirit of adventure had seized hold of
+her, and there was the excitement of a strange unknown future before
+her. The realisation that for the first time in her life she was her
+own mistress, and a free agent, brought a wonderful rest and relief to
+her soul.</p>
+
+<p>"I may make mistakes," she was assuring herself; "but I shall have no
+one to scold me if I do. I am responsible to none. It is new life to
+me; and how exquisite it will be to wander through the country at my
+own free will, to have turned my back for once and all upon London's
+grimy stuffy streets and houses! I will never go back there again if I
+can help it!"</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_4">CHAPTER IV</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A COUNTRY LODGING</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"LITTLE MARLEY," sang out the one and only porter at the small country
+station, which was Damaris's destination.</p>
+
+<p>She stepped out on the platform with a brave heart, and looked around
+her. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and on this June day the
+sun was beating down fiercely on the dusty road outside the station.
+Fields stretched around it; there was no village to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the village," asked Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>The stationmaster, a little stout fussy man, came bustling forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you expecting a trap, madam? Marley is a good two miles off. Maybe
+you are going to the Hall?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said Damaris hastily. "I have come into the country for
+change of air. Is there a good inn in Marley?"</p>
+
+<p>The stationmaster looked at her curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, slowly, "there's the 'Black Swan,' but it's hardly
+accommodation for a lady."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say they may be able to direct me to some rooms," said Damaris;
+"unless you know of any—do you? Is there any nice farm near?"</p>
+
+<p>The stationmaster turned to the porter.</p>
+
+<p>"Tom, is Mrs. Patch letting rooms this summer, d'ye know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've heerd tell she is," replied the porter slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis the baker's, madam—corner of the village as you go in."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much. Will you keep my case here till I send for it? If
+it is only two miles, I can easily walk there."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, miss," suggested the porter in a more animated tone; "if
+you don't come back in a couple of hours, I shall know you're biding
+with Mrs. Patch—I go home to tea at six and pass her door—I'll bring up
+your case with me, and you won't be troubled to do nothing."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled at him gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>"That will be very good of you. I suppose I can't miss my way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Keep straight up the lane and turn off to the right at the first
+cross-roads," said the stationmaster. "And if Mrs. Patch have lodgers,
+she'll tell you whether Merry Cross Farm might put you up."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much."</p>
+
+<p>And as she left the station behind her, Damaris said the herself—</p>
+
+<p>"How simple and easy everything is in the country. I suppose they all
+know each other and each other's business."</p>
+
+<p>The air seemed fresh and sweet; the trees and hedges had not long
+worn their fresh coats of green; honeysuckle and wild rose were just
+beginning to blossom; and Damaris lifted her eyes and heart up to the
+blue sky with a feeling of exultation.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care where I sleep," she asserted to herself, "as long as it
+is clean. But I had a fancy for a village inn. They sound, in books, so
+romantic and picturesque."</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the cross-roads, she began to feel very warm and a
+little tired. She was carrying her dressing-bag, which was heavy, and
+seeing a fallen trunk of a tree lying in the hedge, she sat down on it
+to have a rest. Presently she heard voices in the distance, and in a
+few minutes, two people came walking past her. The woman was tall and
+rather broad-shouldered, she had a quantity of golden-brown hair, and
+wore a white serge coat and gown and a white panama hat with a plain
+band of black round it. She had a walking-stick in her hand, and strode
+over the ground in rather a masculine fashion. The man, who was in
+grey flannel, was just a little taller than she was, and was evidently
+enjoying a joke with her, for his laugh rang out, and she said rather
+sharply—</p>
+
+<p>"I do wish you would be sensible."</p>
+
+<p>"But I couldn't at this juncture, to save my life," was the light
+retort.</p>
+
+<p>They passed on with just a side glance at Damaris, and she gazed after
+them with the greatest interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure they must come from the Hall," she said to herself. "They
+look like it."</p>
+
+<p>Then she got up and pursued her way to the village. It seemed a long
+straight highroad now, but she presently passed a couple of labourers'
+cottages, then a farm-house, and at last came to the village. The
+square tower of the church stood up in the middle of it. She soon
+saw the baker's shop, for loaves of bread were in the window. It
+was a thatched white-washed cottage, that presented its end to the
+village street. A small wooden gate opened into a very pretty flower
+garden, and the cottage faced it. The door stood open, and a stout
+motherly-looking woman, with arms akimbo, was talking to a little
+wizened old man in the porch.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Job, you don't, now! If you value beer more than bread, take your
+coppers to the 'Black Swan'; if you want the bread, hand out your
+coppers, for I'll not trust you, so there!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris opened the gate, and both man and woman turned towards her in
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been told that you let rooms," she said, addressing the woman;
+"have you any vacant at present?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch led the way in hastily, but the old man held out some
+coppers.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, give us a loaf—the missis must come first, I reckon; but you
+never were neighbourly, Mrs. Patch."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, miss, one moment."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris found herself in a charming little kitchen; everything was
+bright and shining, from the freshly black-leaded stove to the copper
+pans on the dresser, and the red flower-pots of geraniums upon the deep
+window-sill.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Patch had dismissed her customer, she turned to Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you be wanting a bed-room only?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"I should like a sitting-room, if you have one."</p>
+
+<p>"For how long?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not quite sure. I have come from London, and I want to spend
+summer in the country."</p>
+
+<p>"And 'tis only for yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am quite alone."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch glanced at Damaris's black clothes, and nodded her head in
+an understanding fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what be you prepared to pay? 'Tis best to be quite business-like
+at first go off."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to see the rooms first," said Damaris, with quiet
+dignity.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch led the way upstairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I've lodged the curick for two years in these here rooms, so you may
+judge they're quite in style. I have a small parlour downstairs, but
+I'm not favourable to lettin' it, for I come of a long fam'ly, and they
+have a way of droppin' over on a Sunday, and I puts 'em in it while I'm
+dishin' dinner. Now what do you say to these?"</p>
+
+<p>She ushered Damaris into a tiny room with a very big bed and a very
+big press. There was just room to walk between them. The window
+overlooked a bit of wild common, and Damaris was delighted with the
+view. The sitting-room was next to it. It was also small, but very
+snug and clean. There was a small horse-hair couch with white crochet
+antimacassars draped over it, a round table, a cupboard in the wall,
+and a row of books on the top of it. An arm-chair, also horse-hair, a
+cane chair, and a little table with a stuffed owl in a glass case upon
+it completed the furniture of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch stepped up to the window.</p>
+
+<p>"The curick used to sit in this here window in his arm-chair with his
+pipe, and he told me he wanted no more on earth," she said solemnly.
+"He was a student o' human natur', same as I am myself. An' if you step
+up you can see the 'Black Swan,' and every man and boy that frequents
+it; an' you can see the Rectory door, and the folks who go in and out,
+an' also the church gate; an' also by cranin' your neck, you catches
+a sight of the front lodge gate to the Hall; and every blessed person
+that comes up and down the village street is straight before your eyes.
+Why, London couldn't give you more, now, could it?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's sense of humour was tickled, and she laughed out so merrily
+that Mrs. Patch gazed at her in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"If you only knew," Damaris said apologetically, "that my life has
+always been that—sitting at a window and watching people outside. I
+want something different now. I want to be outside myself."</p>
+
+<p>Then, seeing that Mrs. Patch was still gazing at her gravely, she said
+hastily—</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure these rooms will do very nicely, and on a wet day I shall
+enjoy looking out of my window very much. Now, about the charge?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want me to feed you same as I did the curick? Thirty shillings
+he gave me every week, everything included, and he said I fed him like
+a prince. And he paid in advance, like the gentleman he was."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I would like to do the same, please."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris took out her purse, and laid down two notes on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch took them and thanked her, and Damaris told her that her
+luggage would be following shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"That will be all right, and, if you're not tired, maybe you'd like
+to take a little walk round, so as to find your way about, while I'm
+putting sheets in your bed and having a dust round. You'll find us a
+quiet house. My husband is in the bakehouse when he ain't out on his
+rounds, and his mother, who lives with us, is bed-ridden. And you'd
+like an early tea, no doubt. Shall we say five o'clock?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris assented. She was more than willing to go out. As she descended
+the small stairs, the smell of hot bread was so appetising that she
+longed for her tea hour; and then the sweet country air took her
+thoughts away from food.</p>
+
+<p>Not very far from the house, she found an old wooden gate partly open,
+a little lane behind it led right up to the common. She followed this
+up a short rather steep ascent, and then the common lay before her as
+far as her eye could reach. Great clumps of golden gorse brightened
+the landscape for miles, but there were also beautiful groups of old
+trees—beeches, hawthorns, oaks and ash broke the monotony of the
+ground. She was tired with her journey and did not go very far. She
+found a seat below an old oak—a thicket of hawthorn was behind her, and
+in front an open expanse of fresh green earth and blue sky. Larks were
+mounting in the air, singing as they went.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had as yet not found much comfort in prayer. It had been more
+of a form of words to her than of reality, but now she felt impelled to
+look upwards and thank God that she had been led to this village.</p>
+
+<p>"I have fallen on my feet. If I do not find any trace of my mother's
+family, I shall at least have the enjoyment and rest of a visit here. I
+could not have found rooms in an easier fashion. I walked straight into
+them. It really does seem as if everything had been made easy for me."</p>
+
+<p>She sat there for nearly an hour deep in thought. She knew she had
+taken rather a rash step in severing herself so suddenly from her old
+home and belongings, and yet she did not for an instant regret it.</p>
+
+<p>When she returned to her rooms, her face was as bright as a child's.
+Mrs. Patch had spread tea in the little sitting-room, and it looked
+most inviting.</p>
+
+<p>"I've b'iled you an egg, and there's a bit of cress from the brook
+which comes down from the common, and the gooseberry jam is my own
+making, and there's bread and butter as much as you can eat. If you're
+come from London, you're ready for a meal I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>She lingered as Damaris sat down at the table and poured herself out a
+cup of tea from the little brown tea-pot.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just delicious, every bit of it," she said enthusiastically; "and
+oh, what a wonderful common you have!"</p>
+
+<p>"Most folks like that. Master and I be wondering what made you fix your
+fancy on Marley as a place to come to. 'Tis out of the usual way for
+sight-seers."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had yet to become acquainted with the insatiable curiosity that
+exists in most small country villages. She answered carefully—</p>
+
+<p>"It was an aunt of mine who mentioned the common in one of her letters.
+I thought I would like to see it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she live here once upon a time? Or, maybe, came to stay. Perhaps a
+visitor at the Rectory or Hall?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a long time ago," said Damaris, and her tone was very
+dignified. "She was staying here, no doubt; but I had a fancy to come.
+Is there any bell to ring? You would like to know when to clear away."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we have no bells in this house," said Mrs. Patch. "Just give a tap
+with your heel on the floor, or give me a call down the stairs. And
+then, at nine or so, I'll bring you a cup of cocoa and some scones to
+go to bed on."</p>
+
+<p>She bustled downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris wondered if it would be difficult to keep her secret.</p>
+
+<p>When Tom Webb brought her suit-case up to the house, the talk outside
+the gate was distinctly audible to her through the open window.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, Mrs. Patch. We've sent you a nice young leddy, h'ain't
+we? Me and Mr. Page say she be no or'nary female out for a few days'
+burst!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hem!" said Mrs. Patch, coughing discreetly. "She has the appearance
+of quality, sure enough, but you has to take these young lonely ladies
+carefully. I studies human natur', Tom, as you know. She has somethin'
+she's not a mind to tell. I can tell it in the look of her eye. Why did
+she come here? There's an aunt, she told me, who knows this part, but
+she didn't give me the name o' her aunt, and was standoffish in her
+voice. I'll find out about that aunt before very long!"</p>
+
+<p>"No you won't," said Damaris to herself.</p>
+
+<p>She shut the window gently, for she had heard quite enough to be
+undesirous of hearing more.</p>
+
+<p>"What an interfering curious old landlady I have got," she thought,
+with dismay in her heart. "How awfully careful I shall have to be. I
+told her too much. I shall be more discreet in future."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch certainly got no more out of Damaris that night.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next day was, unfortunately, wet. After she had had her breakfast,
+Damaris took out her work-bag and began to embroider. About eleven
+o'clock, Mrs. Patch came in to ask her something about dinner, and then
+Damaris asked if the old mother would like her to pay her a visit. Mrs.
+Patch looked quite pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"She's rare glad to have a chat with anyone—the curick used to pop in
+nearly every day. He called her gran'ma."</p>
+
+<p>So Damaris was taken along a tiny passage and into a very clean and
+rather spacious bed-room. The old woman, sitting up in bed with her
+clean frilled cap and spectacles on her nose and a big Bible in front
+of her, made a pretty picture of old age, and Damaris lost her heart to
+her at once.</p>
+
+<p>"You look as if you have just walked out of a book," she said to the
+old woman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, she's always happy—I will say that for her," said talkative Mrs.
+Patch, gazing at her mother-in-law with rather a critical eye. "There
+be those who are always up and those who are always down. I studies
+human natur', and so I knows. For myself, I keep on the level, and
+that's the comfortable way to take life. I don't get over-expecting
+things, nor do I get excited to tears, and so I get no disappointments.
+And I'm not in the dumps on a wet day, and think I'll never be happy
+agen if the master drinks too much or gets in a vile temper. I just
+take things calm, and keep my fears and tears for only very best
+occasions." Then, in an aside, she whispered, "Don't mind mother when
+she talks pious. 'Tis her way with us all. We smiles and takes no
+notice."</p>
+
+<p>She left the room. Damaris slipped into the chair by the bedside, and
+old Mrs. Patch looked up at her with a happy smile.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis nice to see a bright young face, though I fear you've known
+sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Damaris softly; "I have lost two old uncles with whom I
+always made my home. I have nobody to look after me now. It does give
+one a lonely feeling."</p>
+
+<p>The old woman put her hand on her Bible.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you know the One Who gave us His Word you're comforted."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris did not answer. She began to ask questions about the village
+and its inhabitants. Then she asked the momentous question—</p>
+
+<p>"Have you any gentle-people round here? There is a big house called the
+Hall, isn't there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, 'tis our squire lives there—Sir Mark Murray—and a nice hearty
+gentleman he is. I've known him these thirty-seven years or more—I
+went into service with his first wife. She was a sweet gentle lady—but
+proud—oh, so proud on occasions!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is there a big family at the Hall?" Damaris asked. Her soul was in a
+tumult. Her mother's name was Murray. Was it possible, she wondered,
+that Sir Mark was her grandfather?</p>
+
+<p>"No, for they've been scattered. There was a nursery full of them when
+I went up to the Hall as nurse. Miss Lilian, slim and straight as
+yourself. 'Tis strange, but as you came in the room, I said to myself,
+it's just as if Miss Lilian be standing there! She was a beautiful
+child—wayward, but oh, such ways with her! And then there was Master
+Herbert. He's married now, and has a large family, and lives up in
+the north. Miss Lilian married, too; but that was a sore trouble. She
+went out to Italy with an aunt and met a young fellow there, and they
+got married on the quiet. There was a rare rumpus here, but I can't
+tell you the whole story. If her mother had lived, it would have been
+different. But the second Lady Murray never liked her—Miss Lilian used
+to treat her haughty like, and refused to obey her. Anyhow, she didn't
+live very long—poor Miss Lilian died after she'd been married a year.
+Where was I? Polly always says when once I begin talking of the family,
+I never stop. Then there was Master Walter; he still comes down from
+London now. He's in a lawyer's bar, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"A barrister," murmured Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's it. I know they told me he was called to the Bar—and it's
+not public-house bar, but a lawyer's one. And Master Morris—he came
+next—he's a captain of a ship now. And then there's Miss Barbara the
+baby, when I first went and took charge of her."</p>
+
+<p>"And where is she?" asked Damaris, breathlessly. "Is she married?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, that she isn't; but she might have been again and again. She's
+mistress of the Hall now. Lady Murray died five years ago, and, if I
+may say so, the squire seems happier and younger now that she's gone.
+She was a bad-tempered woman, and hadn't the grace of God to keep her
+temper in check."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was silent. She had hardly expected to find her grandfather
+and aunt still living in the same old house. She thought it an
+extraordinary coincidence that she had come to the very house in which
+an old servant of her family was still living.</p>
+
+<p>Then, not liking to appear too inquisitive, she asked about the Rector.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a dear kind man, but his wife is just an angel of goodness. Our
+old rector died two years ago, and he always had to have a curate, for
+he was very bronchitisy for long before he was taken. But Mr. Dashwood
+does all the work easy, and his sweet young wife visits us all most
+regular. Ah! You wait till you see her, and you'll love her as we all
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"I think you must all be very happy in this village," said Damaris
+thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>The old woman smiled a little sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Our village is made up of what every village is, miss—the good and the
+bad together. And we all have our sorrows—my daughter-in-law downstairs
+has buried three fine sons, and no chick or child left. But we aren't
+left ignorant of the wicket-gate. Our Rector points to that very clear."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not good, Mrs. Patch, I wish I was; but I always have loved the
+'Pilgrim's Progress.' I used to revel in it when I was a small child.
+I'm so glad you know it."</p>
+
+<p>The old woman pointed to a big book on her chest of drawers.</p>
+
+<p>"There is old Bunyan! I used to have it in the Hall nursery, and show
+the children the pictures. Have you started out yet with your face
+towards the Holy City, miss, may I ask?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked doubtful.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think so," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you've never felt your burden heavy! You've got it on your back,
+you know, and you'll never get inside the gates with it there."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked thoughtful. She did not feel inclined to copy her
+landlady's example to "smile and take no notice."</p>
+
+<p>But further conversation was stopped by the younger Mrs. Patch coming
+up with a basin of gruel for the old woman, and Damaris took the
+opportunity of slipping away. Her mind and heart were too full of her
+grandfather and aunt being so close to her to take in anything else at
+present.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_5">CHAPTER V</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>MAKING ACQUAINTANCES</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>IN a few days, Damaris had settled down into her lodgings with a
+comfortable feeling of security and peace.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch, junior, amused her by her flow of talk; she listened to her
+but would give her no information about herself.</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday, she went to church in the morning. The country service was
+a novelty to her after the fashionable churches she had frequented in
+town. She sat well back in the church, and was intensely interested in
+watching the congregation arrive.</p>
+
+<p>The Squire's seat was in the chancel behind the choir boys, and
+Damaris's heart beat rapidly when she saw a tall smart-looking old man
+lead the way up to it, and the woman and man who had passed her in the
+road on the day of her first arrival following him. She could hardly
+believe that the handsome golden-haired woman was her mother's sister.
+She had such an air of youth about her, and yet bore the stamp of a
+strong masterful woman. Damaris wondered if she could ever pluck up
+courage to speak to her.</p>
+
+<p>And then she saw the Rector's wife come in and take her place in one
+of the front seats. She was a slight graceful woman with a very sweet
+face, and led a little curly-headed boy by the hand. Damaris had heard
+that he was her one and only child. Another seat in the church held
+some nice-looking people—two old ladies and a dark handsome man with
+a short square beard. The rest of the congregation consisted of the
+villagers.</p>
+
+<p>More than once Damaris met the eyes of her aunt, and of her companion
+who sat next her. She shielded herself as much as she could from
+observation by a pillar near her, and was rather relieved when the
+service was over.</p>
+
+<p>It was a little too early for summer visitors, and many glances fell on
+the tall graceful girl in mourning at the back of the church. Damaris
+felt almost self-conscious as she walked through the churchyard. Once
+she caught the words—</p>
+
+<p>"So that is Mrs. Patch's new lodger. What a pretty girl! Who is she?"
+And her cheeks burned as she hurried on.</p>
+
+<p>When she got to her rooms, she found the kitchen downstairs full of
+Sunday visitors. There was a smell of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding
+and of hot pastry in the oven. Damaris felt she was the recipient of
+oven smells day in and day out. She wondered that a baker did not give
+his oven a rest on Sunday, but she enjoyed a hot plate of roast beef
+and vegetables and the inevitable Yorkshire pudding, followed by a
+gooseberry tart. And then she slipped out of the house, and found her
+way up to the common.</p>
+
+<p>It was a lovely afternoon, and not too warm for walking. A fresh breeze
+met her as she walked on farther than she had ever walked before. The
+peace and quiet of it all delighted her. Her thoughts were, of course,
+on her mother's home. It had been a shock to her that morning to see
+that her aunt was so young in years. She had foolishly pictured her
+as a gentle elderly lady who would receive her with open arms. She
+realised now that, according to the letters she had in her possession,
+Barbara Murray could be only thirty-eight or thirty-nine. Old Mrs.
+Patch had talked of her as a young lady still.</p>
+
+<p>"She's hard, Miss Barbara is," she had said, when talking of her to
+Damaris. "Her temper was spoiled by her ladyship, who never understood
+children. Miss Barbara might have had a sweet temper had she been
+handled differently, she's high-spirited and boyish—she always liked
+her brother's pursoots, but she seems harder than she is at heart. She
+grew up thinkin' everybody against her, and she must defend herself.
+Often she has rushed off to me, when she could bear herself no longer,
+and I've told her patience always wins the day. Of late years, she's
+grown more reserved and proud. But she's a warm heart when once it is
+reached."</p>
+
+<p>This description of her aunt made Damaris shy of making herself known
+to her. She had not imagined she would find it difficult to introduce
+herself, but now she put it off from day to day, hoping that some
+opportunity might be given her, rather than that she should have to
+make it for herself.</p>
+
+<p>She was so deep in thought that she hardly noticed where she was going,
+until she found herself at the end of the common facing another small
+country village. An old red brick house was before her surrounded by
+elms; and further down the road were a cluster of cottages, with the
+usual village church in the midst of them. Very few people seemed
+about, and as there was a seat on the common by the side of the road,
+Damaris sat down upon it to rest.</p>
+
+<p>Presently an old lady came out of the big iron gates leading to the
+house in front of her. She gazed anxiously up and down the road, then
+came across to Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, but have you seen a black-and-white fox terrier? I have
+lost him. He has periodical fits of running away, which annoys me very
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not noticed any dog," said Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady looked at her sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"I see you are a stranger."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," Damaris answered; "I am lodging in Marley, and have come across
+the common for a walk."</p>
+
+<p>"Really? It is a good four miles. Now I should not wonder if Scott has
+gone over to Marley to-day, for my nephew is staying at the Hall for a
+few days, and he always follows him if he gets a chance."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris remembered seeing a small fox terrier dancing round the Hall
+party when they left the church. She mentioned this, and the old lady
+looked quite relieved.</p>
+
+<p>Then she took a seat by Damaris and became very communicative.</p>
+
+<p>"It's quite a comfort to see anyone to talk to. You mustn't mind me—I
+am very unconventional. I always do as I like—custom or propriety does
+not affect me in the least. Now, if you were lodging in this village,
+I would have you in sometimes to talk to me when I'm feeling dull. You
+can talk, I suppose? Some young people won't open their mouths to old
+women. Are you like that? The young won't remember that old age will
+come to them. I was like that myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I like old people better than young ones; I am more accustomed
+to them," said Damaris. "I have lived with two old uncles for the last
+four years since I left school, and now they are both dead, and I miss
+them more than I can say. I am afraid I used to grumble sometimes when
+they were alive, they kept me from knowing people, but now I almost
+wish them back."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope they left their money to you," said the old lady bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps they had not any to leave."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes—a good deal; but it went to their nephew."</p>
+
+<p>"You interest me. Go on. What are you going to do now?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris did not know why she confided in this stranger, but she felt
+she had gone far enough.</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was very dignified as she said—</p>
+
+<p>"I shall manage very well, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you, if you have no money? Don't be foolish, child. Have you
+no other relations?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could easily earn my livelihood by needlework," said Damaris, gazing
+before her dreamily. "I was told at the Art School in Kensington, where
+I had a few lessons, that they would always take my work. I copy old
+tapestry patterns."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause. Then the old lady introduced herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Mrs. Bonnycott—everybody calls me Kitty Bonnycott. I've lived in
+that old house there all my life. It came to me at my father's death. I
+have three farms and a good bit of land, which my nephew looks after.
+He's like a son to me, and we're very good friends; but I don't tie
+him to my apron strings, and every now and then we want a change from
+each other, and then he goes off to the Hall, they're always glad to
+have him there. Barbara and her brothers and he all grew up together. I
+live my own life. I garden, and look after my dogs and goats, and have
+my finger in most of the village pies. How do you like the Rector's
+wife at Marley? She's county, you know—would marry a parson—told me
+she loved the idea of being a shepherdess! And she's a charming young
+creature. A little too pious for me, but I laugh at her; and she takes
+it in very good part."</p>
+
+<p>"I have not met her yet," replied Damaris, feeling bewildered by the
+old lady's confidential talk; "but I saw her in church to-day and think
+she looks perfectly sweet."</p>
+
+<p>"And how long are you going to stay at Marley?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's cheeks flushed in spite of herself.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bonnycott looked at her with a pair of very sharp far-seeing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought to be in church this afternoon," she said, after a moment's
+pause; "but our vicar annoyed me this morning, so I am punishing him
+by my absence. I'm a most regular church goer as a rule; we have no
+evening service, and the afternoon is a trial in summer! He refused to
+give out a notice I sent to him. It was an invitation to the six old
+almswomen to a strawberry tea. Is it wicked to mention strawberries and
+tea in church? I suddenly thought of it as I was walking to church, and
+I wanted them to come to-morrow. My vicar is a very proper young man;
+he is always afraid of doing something unclerical or unorthodox. I have
+no patience with him."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris could not help smiling. Then she asked the name of the village
+and was told it was Fallerton.</p>
+
+<p>"I am the only resident in it of any account," said Mrs. Bonnycott;
+"but we have plenty of neighbours within driving distance. The Gores
+are nearest to me; they go to your church because they had a quarrel
+with our vicar over some of his vestments. They're starched old maids,
+both of them, but we're very good friends. Their brother would marry
+Barbara Murray to-morrow if she would have him. He worships the ground
+she treads upon; and I think she's a fool, for he's an intelligent
+upright man, whose only fault is that he's too easy-going, and lets his
+sisters rule him. He has the hobby of bee-keeping. His apiary is well
+worth seeing. He's a bit of a naturalist, too; you meet him lying out
+in the woods or on the common watching the habits of some insect or
+bird. But I'm not very fond of men with beards, are you? I always fancy
+they are hiding up a weak mouth or chin."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris laughed, then got up to go, and the old lady insisted upon
+shaking hands with her.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall meet again. When next I am in Marley, I shall come to see
+you. When we don't bake at home, we get our bread from Patch. I'm sure
+you're lodging there, though you didn't tell me so. They are the only
+rooms to let that I know of!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris parted from her, feeling as if she had made a friend. Mrs.
+Bonnycott was a pretty old lady with a wonderfully clear complexion,
+bright brown eyes, and an upright active little figure. Her eyes
+twinkled as she talked, as if she were always seeing a hidden joke.
+Damaris had a happy feeling as she talked to her, and as she walked
+back over the common, she hoped that she might soon see her again.</p>
+
+<p>As she was nearing Marley, she met Barbara Murray and Mrs. Bonnycott's
+nephew. Barbara had half-a-dozen dogs with her, and Scott was evidently
+one of them, for his master said as they passed her—</p>
+
+<p>"My aunt won't sleep to-night without him. I tell you Scott rules the
+house; but the walk over the common is good for both of us."</p>
+
+<p>The breeze brought Damaris the added words—</p>
+
+<p>"Who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>And Barbara replied indifferently—</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris returned to her lodgings feeling rather tired and quite ready
+for her tea.</p>
+
+<p>Yet an hour later, she slipped into the little church again for the
+evening service, and enjoyed it.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon, Mrs. Dashwood, the Rector's wife, called upon her.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris succumbed at once to her charms. She almost felt inclined to
+confide in her, her history, but her natural reticence forbade her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so glad you came straight to the Patch's. I always think I should
+enjoy living here myself. Doesn't the smell of hot baked bread make you
+feel fed and clothed and housed all at once? It always gives me the
+sense of comfort and home. Now don't be lonely, will you? And if your
+days are long, will you help me at the Rectory? I am always trying to
+catch up the work that is waiting for me even in this small village. Do
+you like being busy? I believe you are a dreamer. But dreamers develop
+into doers. Look at Joseph!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's eyes sparkled.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have been a dreamer, and my life for several years has fostered
+it. But I am just waking up now; and oh, Mrs. Dashwood, I want to do
+something!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood leant forwards with her pretty entrancing smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you and I will do together for a little while. We are both
+pilgrims, aren't we, travelling the same road? And just for a little
+time, we will walk side by side."</p>
+
+<p>Then she put her hand on Damaris's arm caressingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Is our goal the same, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked doubtful.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you the driving force necessary for all work? 'Such' a force!
+'The love of Christ constraineth us.'"</p>
+
+<p>Sudden tears filled Damaris's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I have often thought about those kind of things, but I have been so
+alone. I have had no one to help me. You remind me of old Mrs. Patch
+and her 'Pilgrim's Progress.'"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood laughed happily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you can't say you have no one to help you, dear, with that old
+saint in the house. I don't quite know why you chanced on our little
+village as a rest cure, but I see now there was no chance in it. You
+were sent here to be helped, and to have your soul rested as well as
+your body. How I do hope and pray you won't miss it. And now I must be
+going. My mothers' meeting begins at half-past three, but I felt I must
+just see you first. Will you come to tea with me to-morrow, and make
+acquaintance with my small son Eddie? You see what a conceited mother I
+am! But he really is nice to know."</p>
+
+<p>She was gone like a flash of light, and Damaris was left with a longing
+to know her better, and with a pleased anticipation of going to tea
+with her the next day.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Patch came in after she had gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Our Rector's lady never stays anywhere quite long enough," she said;
+"that's all the fault we finds with her. But her days is near as
+crowded as mine. She flings me a pretty word.</p>
+
+<p>"'Mrs. Patch,' she says, 'I wish I could be your lodger one day; I
+would cast off my housekeeping cares, and have a blissful time. Your
+rooms,' she says, 'have all the true atmosphere of restfulness and
+comfort.'</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Mrs. Dashwood—she has the observing eye—same as have myself, bein'
+a student of human natur. Did she have a few words with you to the
+improvin' of your soul? I reckon she'll have been finding out if you're
+a worker or not. 'Tis her craze—that of work. She even taxes me with
+it, though she do allow that I've enough to do to keep my household
+goin'."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris listened a little impatiently. She grew rather tired of Mrs.
+Patch's flow of talk, and slipped away from her with the excuse of
+going out for a walk on the common.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>She went up to the Rectory the next day, and found Mrs. Dashwood, in
+her pretty morning-room, busy cutting out a lot of garments for her
+village working party.</p>
+
+<p>Her little boy was by her side, pretending to help.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris stooped to kiss him. She was rather shy of children, never
+having had much to do with them.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like kissing me?" Eddie asked, looking up at her with a pair of
+huge blue eyes. "I aren't liking it myself."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris laughed, and Mrs. Dashwood looked up from her work.</p>
+
+<p>"Eddie, remember you are a little gentleman. That is not a polite way
+to speak."</p>
+
+<p>"But gentlemen aren't kissed," said the small boy. "Everybody kisses
+me, but they doesn't kiss Daddy."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't kiss you again," said Damaris—"not unless you want me to."</p>
+
+<p>And then Mrs. Dashwood set her to work; and as they cut out they
+talked, and Damaris found herself giving many confidences about her
+past life.</p>
+
+<p>Eddie retired to a corner of the room to play. His mother said that his
+nurse had gone out for the day, so that she was in charge of him.</p>
+
+<p>Presently a whistle was heard in the garden, and Eddie dashed out of
+the open French window, crying out excitedly—</p>
+
+<p>"It's my Mr. Stuart!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood gave a little sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"I hoped we should have had a quiet afternoon together, but Stuart
+Maitland is such an old friend that he walks in upon us whenever he
+likes. I knew him before I married. Have you met him? He lives with an
+old aunt just across the common. He looks after her property, but it is
+not enough to occupy a man of his abilities. We call him the Admirable
+Crichton. Here he comes."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Tina, slaving away as usual? What a woman you are for scissors!
+Now it's garments for the village, isn't it? Last time you were making
+havoc of your rose beds for some wedding."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood laughingly shook hands with him, then introduced him to
+Damaris. He looked at her with a frank smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Our third meeting. Three is my lucky number! I knew I should speak to
+you the next time I saw you."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled back. Her head was high, and her manner dignity itself;
+but there was something in Stuart's voice that always brought smiles to
+those with whom he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"You saw each other in church, I suppose?" said Mrs. Dashwood, turning
+briskly to her cutting out again.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that wasn't a meeting; the first time Miss—Miss Hartbrook—I
+hope I've caught the name—was sitting by the wayside, and Barbara
+and I discussed her hotly for a good ten minutes after we had passed
+her. Then we met her again on Sunday afternoon crossing the common,
+whereupon we discussed her again; and now I shall go back, and most
+likely we will all discuss her for the third time."</p>
+
+<p>"That makes me feel a person of some importance," said Damaris; "but I
+am learning from Mrs. Patch's talk that everybody is of importance in
+the country."</p>
+
+<p>"You're right there. Allow me to relieve you, Tina. Don't dare to say
+I can't wield the scissors as well as yourself. Sit down and rest that
+long back of yours. What is that husband of yours doing? If I had a
+wife and she helped me with my sermons, I would help her with her
+scissors. That's fair play. Miss Hartbrook, when you listen to our
+Rector's sermons, and he startles you with a very straight hit which
+knocks you flat, that is one of his better half's bits of composition."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart was rapidly cutting out children's frocks as he talked.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris gazed at him with amused astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood had laughingly taken a seat and drawn her little boy
+to her side, but her quick observant eyes were following her new
+assistant's rapid cuts, and twice she corrected him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," she said, "give me back my scissors. I am rested. Won't you play
+to us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, play, and I'll dance!" cried Eddie.</p>
+
+<p>The next moment, Stuart was at the piano playing the merriest jigs and
+snatches of nursery rhymes. Eddie capered up and down, occasionally
+bursting into songs in which Stuart joined him. He had one of the
+softest and most mellow tenor voices that Damaris had ever heard.
+Suddenly he stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"That's enough for you, old boy. Now I'm going to play to Miss
+Hartbrook. And then it will be your mother's turn. Now, Miss Hartbrook,
+what will you have—grave or gay? I think I know."</p>
+
+<p>He began to improvise. Damaris listened, entranced, for she knew at
+once he was a real musician. And from a very sweet and plaintive little
+melody, he turned to some Norwegian Folk Lore airs, and then finished
+with a very inspiriting Polish March.</p>
+
+<p>"To cheer you up!" he remarked, twisting round on the music stool.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," said Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>He turned back to the piano, and began playing "O Rest in the Lord,"
+"Comfort ye My People," and "He shall Feed His Flock" followed. And
+when he stopped playing, there was a grave stillness in the room.</p>
+
+<p>He stood up and drew a deep breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Music is meant to portray religion, isn't it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What a dangerous gift it is," Mrs. Dashwood said thoughtfully. "It
+appeals to the best and worst inside us."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you have me to tea?" Stuart asked, as he took an easy chair and
+hoisted Eddie upon his knee. "Barbara has taken it into her head to pay
+calls this afternoon, knowing that I won't accompany her. And Sir Mark
+has shut himself into the library with some business papers, and told
+me he didn't want to be disturbed."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, we will give you tea. How long are you staying at the Hall?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only till to-morrow. I know you feel I've been idling here too long,
+but I've been making sketches and plans for some model cottages Sir
+Mark wants to build."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a few. Don't make me blow my own trumpet before Miss Hartbrook,
+but you know I'm a handy man, and I find jobs everywhere. That reminds
+me—I've promised the rector to get rid of those crows' nests in the
+belfry. I'll go now. Would Eddie like to come with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mummy, let me!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood looked dubious.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll be breaking his neck."</p>
+
+<p>"Will Miss Hartbrook come and look after him? I'm sure you've done
+enough cutting out!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was not very keen on going, but Mrs. Dashwood seemed as if she
+would like her to do so.</p>
+
+<p>"You will hear the tea-bell. I'll have it rung outside the house, and
+when it rings, bring Eddie in, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>As Damaris walked through the garden, Stuart talked to her as if he
+had known her all her life. He interested her at once; there seemed no
+subject on which he could not talk. And though his tone was gay, he
+could drop suddenly into the gravest vein.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you've lost your heart to Tina. I tell Barbara she's lucky
+to have her near her. But women are a mystery to man in their dealings
+with one another. Barbara keeps her at arm's length. I think she is
+afraid that Tina will tackle her on religious subjects. She's tackled
+me, and she'll do the same to you before you've been in her company
+very long. But if you know a good thing, why shouldn't you try to pass
+it on? And I bless the day when I was enlightened and set going by her.
+Now, young man, what is it?" He turned to Eddie.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to ring the bells. Will you take me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I know it! But we shall climb the tower, and you shall show
+Miss Hartbrook the hill where the rainbows end."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I met a relation of yours on Sunday," said Damaris suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you? It was my aunt. A dear old talkative soul. Was she on the
+common?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris gave an account of her meeting.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart's eyes twinkled.</p>
+
+<p>"Did she tell you of our difference of opinion? I wanted a certain man
+dismissed—a farm-hand who is an idle loafer. She wants him kept. So I
+said I would go away for a few days and let her see for herself how he
+worked. I received a repentant note this morning, so I'm going back to
+her to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"How nice to be able to run away when things go wrong!" said Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a nasty one for me!" laughed Stuart. "Have you never run away
+from anything?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said Damaris hastily; "I'm doing it now." Then the swift
+colour came to her cheeks. "I am my own mistress," she added. "I
+sometimes wish I were not."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," he said, "independence has its drawbacks. Now, it's a queer
+thing, but, from the look of your carriage and walk, I said to Barbara,
+'That girl is on her own—no doubt of it.' And I was right."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think me an adventuress?" said Damaris, with a little smile. "I
+am out on an adventure."</p>
+
+<p>"Shake hands," said Stuart, holding out his hand to her. "I'm an
+adventurer born. That's why I'm a Jack of many trades and master of
+none. I'm always seeing things on in front that beckon to me, and I
+invariably plunge after them. But I'm sticking to my aunt now. I've
+been all over the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Damaris, with a long-drawn sigh; "I wish I had—I do adore
+seeing new strange places."</p>
+
+<p>They reached the place, and climbed up into the belfry; then Damaris
+took Eddie up to the top of the tower out of danger's way. He had been
+there before, and was very proud of pointing out to her different
+landmarks.</p>
+
+<p>The tea-bell rang too soon; but on their way down they met Stuart, who
+showed them four huge nests he had rescued from some beams in the roof.</p>
+
+<p>"They're big enough for you to sit in, Eddie," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, fanks; I don't want to sit on eggs!" he promptly replied.</p>
+
+<p>And then they all went into the Rectory to tea.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart went with the Rector afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>"My husband wants to show him some old papers he has unearthed from
+the vestry," Mrs. Dashwood said to Damaris. "Stuart Maitland is one of
+the most gifted men I know. He says he happens to have clever hands,
+but it is his brain which directs them. You heard him play. He paints
+exquisite water-colour sketches, and has written two books. He is a
+very good architect, and is a member of the British Archaeological
+Society. I don't think there is anything that he can't do. I always
+say, when I have him in the house, that I have a plumber, carpenter,
+glazier, and general repairer. He ought to be a poor man."</p>
+
+<p>"And has he no profession?" asked Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to say he has not. He was left an orphan when he was quite
+small, and came into a good bit of money when he was of age."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Dashwood began to talk to Damaris of the village, trying to
+interest her in the people. When she got up to go, she said—</p>
+
+<p>"You will let me see more of you, won't you, dear? I want to know you
+better. And we have had an interrupted afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall love to come and see you at any time," said Damaris warmly.</p>
+
+<p>And as she walked home, she determined she would pursue the
+acquaintance. Yet somehow or other Stuart Maitland obtruded himself,
+and overshadowed gentle Mrs. Dashwood in her thoughts.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_6">CHAPTER VI</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A SUDDEN DEPARTURE</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"MRS. BONNYCOTT to see you, miss."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was sitting writing in her little sitting-room one afternoon,
+when Mrs. Patch opened the door to announce the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had been trying to concoct for about the twentieth time, a
+letter to her grandfather announcing her existence. But nothing that
+she wrote satisfied her.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could only see him! And if my aunt were more approachable! I
+wonder if I had better confide in Mrs. Dashwood. I don't know why I
+feel so shy about mentioning the subject. I know they are all curious
+about me, though they are too well-bred to say so. I don't know why I
+should appear such a mystery. In these days, girls live alone, and earn
+their own living."</p>
+
+<p>She was glad to be able to change her thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bonnycott was breathless with her climb up the steep stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I should come and see you, didn't I," she said, taking the
+easy chair Damaris pulled forward, and looking round her with her keen
+bright eyes. "You have a very snug little room here. What a pretty
+group of wild roses. I've just come from the Hall—been lunching with
+Barbara. You don't know each other yet? Barbara is a queer girl—she has
+too many men friends to be interested in her own sex. You have met my
+nephew, I hear. What do you think of him? Don't fall in love with him,
+will you? For I warn you he is not susceptible to women's charms—likes
+to chum up with them, but no more. He was engaged once, and says, never
+again; but he was young and she was young, and they were both too
+self-willed. She broke it off, and married somebody else two months
+after. But Stuart thinks that every other girl would be like her. Now
+tell me what you have been doing with yourself. I have interrupted you
+in writing, I see. So glad you have some friends to whom you can write.
+I was afraid you were a forlorn young creature with no friends at all.
+Mrs. Patch tells me you had an aunt who lived in these parts once."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I told her so," said Damaris a little stiffly. "I said I
+had seen 'Marley Common' mentioned in an aunt's letter, and that made
+me come."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bonnycott gave a funny little chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>"We're all very interested, not to say inquisitive, in these parts when
+a lodger comes to settle amongst us."</p>
+
+<p>"I have only one friend in the world," said Damaris slowly and
+thoughtfully, "and that is an old servant who has known me from my
+babyhood."</p>
+
+<p>"What a treasure. Is she in service still? If not I wish you would give
+me her address. I want a good maid—housemaid. Would she suit me?"</p>
+
+<p>"She might," said Damaris, smiling, "but she is still in London in my
+old home—and will no doubt stay there."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that where the nephew lived who ousted you? Have you made any plans
+for the future? I'm interested in you. Do you know you are too dainty a
+creature to be wandering over the world alone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I have my plans," cried Damaris desperately, "but I can't talk
+about them."</p>
+
+<p>"That's a pity," observed the old lady in a disappointed tone. "Young
+people always think life is easy to manage, and they won't confide in
+their elders, and troubles follow. But if you do get into trouble,
+write to me. You know my address. 'The Manor House, Fallerton.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind," said Damaris, gratefully. "I don't find my life
+easy to manage at all. I have a very difficult task in front of me, and
+I am so cowardly that I feel, though I have begun to grapple with it,
+that I shall not be able to carry it through."</p>
+
+<p>"And you've come down here to think things out quietly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—partly."</p>
+
+<p>"Well—well—if you won't confide in me, you won't. But I still want you
+to come over and spend a day with me. Come next Saturday, will you? If
+you enjoy the walk, come over to lunch, and I will show you my garden
+and my pet goats. I keep eight of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much. I shall be very glad to come."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bonnycott did not stay very long, and though Damaris was
+entertained by her bright talk, she was relieved than otherwise when
+the visit came to an end.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't go on like this," she said to herself. "I must do something
+definitely—I never imagined that everyone in the country would be so
+curious about strangers. I am sure Mrs. Bonnycott will get it all out
+of me when I go to lunch with her. And yet I do like her. And it is
+such a change to know some women of the right sort. I have seen so few
+of them in my life."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Two days afterwards, Damaris got her chance of doing "something
+definitely."</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting with old Mrs. Patch, and hearing of the old times at
+the Hall, when suddenly the door opened and Barbara appeared.</p>
+
+<p>She looked rather taken aback at seeing Damaris there.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Nanny, how are you? It's an age since I've been in, isn't it?
+I've brought you some of our early peaches."</p>
+
+<p>"This is Miss Hartbrook, Miss Barbara, dear—she lodges with us, and is
+very kind in coming and sitting with me."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara inclined her head a little stiffly, and Damaris at once made a
+move.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Mrs. Patch, for the present," she said, and then she slipped
+away, going back to her own rooms.</p>
+
+<p>But inside, she stood still—a sudden impulse seizing her.</p>
+
+<p>"Now is my opportunity. She will pass my door going downstairs. I will
+call her in and tell her. I will—I must have the courage to do it. It
+is so much easier seeing her here than going to the Hall."</p>
+
+<p>Now that the time had come, Damaris found her limbs trembling beneath
+her. She feverishly unlocked her small dressing-case, and produced
+her mother's letters. Then she tidied her sitting-room, placing her
+best easy chair in the window, and arranging one for herself in the
+background. She found herself preparing nervously her important
+announcement.</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I begin? In books they generally rush into the arms of their
+long-lost relations; but I can't fancy myself doing that with Aunt
+Barbara! She's a man's woman they say, and hard of heart—perhaps I am
+making a mistake. My grandfather might receive me more warmly. Had I
+better wait and speak to him? Oh, how long she is! I wish she would
+come out. I hate the suspense of it!"</p>
+
+<p>She paced the room, trying to control her agitation.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I say? I feel I shall stammer and break down. Perhaps
+she will refuse to come in. I wish she would, then I shall go to my
+grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>Time went on. She heard the murmur of voices along the passage, and
+once Barbara's rather deep laugh rang out. Damaris was devoutly
+thankful that the landlady had gone to the neighbouring town that day
+to market, for otherwise she would run the risk of her mounting the
+stairs to enjoy the visitor's conversation. At last, the bed-room door
+opened and Barbara came out.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Nanny. Take care of yourself."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris opened her door.</p>
+
+<p>As Barbara strode along the passage, she was pulled up by a very quiet
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"May I speak to you, Miss Murray, for a few minutes?"</p>
+
+<p>They faced each other. Barbara's eyes were opened wide, her
+astonishment was plain to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris stood with her proud little head in the air, she was white from
+emotion even to her lips, but her voice was well under control. There
+was not a quiver in it. Her request was almost like a command.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word, Barbara came in. She had to stoop her tall head to get
+in at the door.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris pulled forward the easy chair, and then seated herself. There
+was a moment's silence between them. Barbara evidently did not intend
+to speak first.</p>
+
+<p>"I have wanted to speak to you for some time. It seems my opportunity.
+I have something to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Still silence. Then Damaris took her mother's letters in her hand, and
+handed them to Barbara.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know these letters? Will you read them? They were written by
+you many years ago."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara frowned heavily as she opened the letters. Damaris watched
+her breathlessly, but she saw no sign of feeling in the handsome
+fresh-coloured face bending over them.</p>
+
+<p>One by one they were opened and read. Then at last Barbara looked up.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get these? How do they come into your possession?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are my mother's letters. I am her daughter."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara stared at her uncomprehendingly. "My sister had no children."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you never told that she had? Surely my mother wrote to you
+before—before her death?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you kindly give me your account of it."</p>
+
+<p>Something steely and fierce flashed out of Barbara's blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris faltered—she began to get a little incoherent.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't give you the account of my birth. But it was in Florence, and
+after my mother's death, my father brought me to his uncle's house in
+London, which has been my home ever since. I—he never told me—I never
+knew—until I found these—I wonder you never asked about me—but of
+course I was provided for—and I took everything as my right—but when I
+found myself penniless, I began to wonder if I had no other relations,
+and then I found these. My father died many years ago."</p>
+
+<p>Still Barbara did not speak, she sat gazing out of the window like one
+in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly she turned her face towards Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"What other proof can you show me that you are my sister's daughter?
+Have you your birth certificate?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Damaris, hesitating; "no, I do not know where that would be.
+It may be in Florence. I have not seen it amongst my father's papers.
+My uncles may have destroyed it."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile.</p>
+
+<p>"We have only your word to go upon. We must have more than that."</p>
+
+<p>The colour rushed into Damaris's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not believe me? Do you think I am telling lies? Don't I know my
+own mother's name, and all the circumstances connected with her life in
+Florence."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara smiled again.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Miss Hartbrook—if this is your name—it is curious I should
+not have recognised it before, but I had almost forgotten my
+brother-in-law's existence, and the name is an ordinary one; but if
+it is, I cannot forget that you have been in the habit of talking a
+great deal with our old nurse, from whom you would have got all our
+family history. She doubtless mentioned to you, as she did to me, a
+certain resemblance in you to my sister—there is nothing to prevent
+you building upon this and using it for your own ends. I don't say you
+have; but legally you must give us other proof. These letters were
+written by me, but they may have passed through many hands; and how are
+we to know that you are the rightful possessor of them?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was silent. Never had such a possibility presented itself to
+her! Not to be believed was a fact that she had never contemplated.
+Such a rush of hot indignation and wounded pride seized hold of her
+that she could not trust herself to speak.</p>
+
+<p>At last, she moved across the room and held open her door.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry I have told you," she said. "If my relations do not wish to
+own me, there is nothing more to be said."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara took her dismissal very calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"I will keep these letters," she said, moving across to the door, "as
+they are my property. And I will talk it over with my father, and you
+will hear from us again. It is strange that you should have taken so
+long a time to make yourself known to us. If your purpose in coming
+here was to show us these letters, why did you not do it at once? It
+looks as if you were taking time to find out all you could."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris said nothing. Her eyes flashed indignantly, and she closed the
+door upon her visitor with bitter disappointment and anger in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>"They won't believe me! They don't want to believe me. Instead of being
+glad, she hated the very idea of my existence. Never, never, shall I be
+dependent on them! Never shall I enter their house! I wish I had never
+come here! I wish I had never spoken to her! I shall go straight back
+to London and get work. And I shall never think of them again. I have
+lived without them all these years. I can live without them still. I
+shall go back to London and write to Stevens and get her to come and
+see me, and tell her all about it."</p>
+
+<p>In a tempest of fury, Damaris paced her room, then seized hold of her
+suit-case, and began flinging her clothes into it. She knew there was
+no train to town that day which she could conveniently catch, but she
+felt she must do something towards preparing for her departure. Then
+she put on her hat and slipped quietly out of the house. Making her
+way to the station, she found out the first morning train to town, and
+arranged with the friendly porter to call for her luggage on his way to
+the station the next morning.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>When she returned to her lodgings, she found her landlady still away.
+So she went in to see old Mrs. Patch, and told her she must go back to
+London.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very sudden and unexpected, but I must go," she said. "I sha'n't
+forget you, Mrs. Patch, and our quiet talks. You have done me a lot of
+good."</p>
+
+<p>"But, dear miss, have you spoken to Polly? She'll be in a sore way at
+losing you so suddenly."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll pay her an extra week. I only took my rooms by the week. I always
+knew my time here would be uncertain."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall miss you sorely. You seem so young and lonely. I wish you had
+the Lord as your Guide."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know I have not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think you've got rid of your burden yet. You don't even feel
+the weight of it, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I don't. But is it necessary? Can't I be good without
+feeling I'm a very wicked sinner?"</p>
+
+<p>Old Mrs. Patch laid her hand tenderly upon her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"You will never love until you know what you've been saved from,
+dearie. We are told in the Book that it is those who have been forgiven
+most that love most. And it seems to me there be few people nowadays
+who feel the horror of sin."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was silent. She looked wistfully at the old woman.</p>
+
+<p>"I will think about it, Mrs. Patch. I promise you I will. It is so
+good of you to care about me at all. I feel as if I'm leaving my best
+friends here."</p>
+
+<p>"And must you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must."</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Patch, junior, returned from her marketing, she was very
+perturbed at the thought of losing her lodger.</p>
+
+<p>"We were just becoming acquainted, and you'd settled down comfortable.
+Why so sudden, miss?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can hardly tell you why," said Damaris a little coldly.</p>
+
+<p>She felt thankful that nobody knew of the interview she had had with
+Barbara.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>She left very early the next morning, and she wrote a little note to
+Mrs. Dashwood which she meant to post on her way to town. It ran as
+follows—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"DEAR MRS. DASHWOOD,—Forgive me for not coming to wish you good-bye.
+I am leaving suddenly—as suddenly as I came. I do thank you for all your
+kindness. I should like to think that one day I may meet you again. I
+hardly know what is going to happen to me. But I have nothing to fear.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 16.5em;">"Yours lovingly,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 24em;">"DAMARIS."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the station, Stuart Maitland was just leaving it. He
+was on horseback.</p>
+
+<p>"Whither away?" he asked her cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>"On adventure bound," she said, trying to speak lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you're running away again," he said, looking down upon her
+with a quizzical glance in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, then held out her note to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you do me the favour of taking this to the Rectory? You will be
+passing it, won't you? I did not know you were out so early."</p>
+
+<p>"Farmers are up at five o'clock, and it is just on half-past eight. Of
+course, I'll take your note. I think it's very shabby of you to treat
+us like this. Aren't you booked for my aunt for to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"I—I quite forgot. I'll write to her from town. Will you make my
+excuses? I did not think I should have to leave so soon, but I must."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were my sister," said Stuart, looking at her gravely, "I should
+take you by your shoulders and march you back to your lodgings again.
+What has happened? Treat me as a brother—a chum."</p>
+
+<p>Sudden tears came into her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't—I wish I had never set eyes on Marley. I wish I had never
+known any of you!"</p>
+
+<p>There was passionate resentment in her tone, and she passed swiftly on
+to the ticket-office.</p>
+
+<p>In another five minutes, she was in the train, speeding away towards
+London.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart rode thoughtfully on. He gave in the note at the Rectory, had
+a glorious gallop across the common, and reached home in time for
+breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>When he gave his aunt Damaris's message, she became quite excited.</p>
+
+<p>"What has happened to the child? I was looking forward to having her
+here. And she had no intention of leaving us for a long time. She is
+alone in the world—she told me so—and means to earn her own living.
+She's the last girl in the world to fend for herself in London. She's
+such a dainty, high-bred little creature! Did she seem down in spirits?"</p>
+
+<p>"Angry—a regular little spit-fire," said Stuart, devouring his plate
+of kidneys and bacon with a healthy appetite. Then he brought down
+his fist on the table heavily. "By-the-way, I wonder if Barbara is in
+the business? Somebody has angered her. And Barbara went to see the
+old nurse yesterday. I wanted her to call on the child, but she was
+strangely averse to doing so. She said she would like to find out about
+her first. The young lady is very mysterious."</p>
+
+<p>"Not to me," said Mrs. Bonnycott. "As straight and simple as she can
+be, though she wouldn't tell me her plans. But I begged her to write to
+me if she were in trouble at any time, and I believe she will."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart went about his daily work with a strange oppression of mind. He
+laughed at himself for it.</p>
+
+<p>"It's too ridiculous to trouble over a passing visitor as I am doing.
+But I'm honestly disappointed. She was worth knowing, and I meant to
+know her well."</p>
+
+<p>He was in the hayfields most of that day, working as hard as any
+farm-hand. He did not come into the house till nine o'clock, and then
+was handed a note which had come from the Hall for him. It was from
+Barbara—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Do, like a good boy, come over as soon as you can. I badly want
+advice.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 11em;">"Yours,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 15em;">"BARBARA."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>His aunt refused to let him go to the Hall that evening.</p>
+
+<p>"I have put off my dinner to have a late supper with you. Miss Barbara
+must wait. It will do her no harm. You are not her lover, are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Goodness—no!" said Stuart, with an astonished laugh. "What a woman you
+are!"</p>
+
+<p>"I never try to be anything but a woman," retorted his aunt sharply.
+"Barbara has no right to expect you to be at her beck and call at all
+hours of the day. The groom is going over to Marley to-night. He's
+calling at the mill about some oats for the stables. Write a note, and
+he will take it. Say, that when the hay is saved, you can give her your
+attention."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart smiled to himself. His note was as short as Barbara's.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Expect me to breakfast. I can only give you an hour.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 18em;">"STUART."</span><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_7">CHAPTER VII</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A CONSULTATION</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"NOW then, pump it out. What's up?"</p>
+
+<p>Barbara and Stuart were in the big dining-room at breakfast. Sir Mark
+was not down. He often had his breakfast in his room, and this was
+one of the occasions when he did so. It was an ideal summer morning.
+The big French windows were opened wide. There was a sweet smell of
+freshly-mown grass coming into the room from outside. The gardener was
+busy on the big lawn with the mowing-machine. Great shrubs of glowing
+flame-coloured azaleas bordered the lawn. The breakfast table, with
+its choice china and silver and bowls of roses, appealed to Stuart's
+artistic taste. And, looking across at Barbara in her cool white linen
+gown, with her beautiful golden head, and her fresh frank face, he
+acknowledged that she suited her surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>But he saw, from a bewildered look in her eyes and a restless movement
+of her graceful hands, that Barbara was in trouble.</p>
+
+<p>She was toying with a scone and honey upon her plate—in reality eating
+nothing, only making a brave pretence of doing so.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a dear to have come over. I feel I 'must' take counsel with
+somebody, and there's nobody like you for good sound sense when there's
+real need for it. I never slept a wink last night; and father is
+furious with me."</p>
+
+<p>"That I can hardly believe. Sir Mark furious? I never thought he had a
+spark of temper in him."</p>
+
+<p>"You would have been undeceived if you had heard him last night. And
+you will never guess the cause of it. That pretty little girl who is
+lodging here."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Stuart, putting down his cup of coffee which was on the way
+to his mouth. "I thought as much. Then you sent her away."</p>
+
+<p>"How did you guess? But I didn't. I hadn't the remotest intention
+of doing so. I never was so astonished in my life as when I went
+round yesterday afternoon and found her flown. Mrs. Patch could not
+understand it. At first, I thought it proved that my suspicions were
+right—that she had failed in her little plot, and had fled because she
+saw that we were not easily taken in—but now, I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>"Have the goodness to explain yourself for I'm in the dark."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you all. Do you remember my sister Lilian?"</p>
+
+<p>"The one that married some artist fellow and died out in Italy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; she was only married a year. Well, this girl says she is her
+daughter!"</p>
+
+<p>Stuart stared at her.</p>
+
+<p>"What? This is interesting! That accounts for her appearance."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see you're ready to believe in her at once! When she first
+sprang it upon me—the day before yesterday—I was so dazed and
+bewildered that I could hardly take it in. I was at school, remember,
+when Lilian died. It was my first term, and my stepmother simply
+wrote and told me the bald fact. I was never told she died at the
+birth of her child. I never knew she had one. This girl produced some
+old letters of mine written to Lilian soon after she married. And
+in my cautious way, I asked for more proofs of her relationship to
+us. Anybody can get hold of old letters. I did not doubt her being a
+Hartbrook, but I thought she might be some other member of the family
+who was using the letters for her own ends. She naïvely told me that
+she began to hunt round for some relations when she found herself
+penniless. That looked fishy. And I asked her why she had kept quiet
+so long. She has been here nearly a month, and is lodging in the house
+with old Nanny. She could not have done better if she had wished to spy
+out the land and discover all our family history. Nanny had told her
+she was very like Lilian in appearance."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart made an impatient movement.</p>
+
+<p>"Be patient; I want you to see things from my side. I told her I would
+show the letters to my father, and that she would hear again from us on
+the matter. She dismissed me like a little tragedy queen. You should
+have seen her eyes flash. She was simply furious with me, and said if
+we did not wish to own her, there was nothing more to be said. Now do
+you think me much to blame?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are rather a sledgehammer sometimes," said Stuart, pushing his
+chair back from the table and walking restlessly up and down the room.
+"You might have let her down a little more gently. But you never liked
+her being here, did you? You took some unaccountable prejudice to her
+ever since we saw her sitting in the hedge."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it was the contradiction in my nature," said Barbara, with an
+honest smile. "You gushed over her so!"</p>
+
+<p>"A man doesn't gush!" said Stuart sharply. "But I do recognise beauty
+when I see it, also good breeding. I'd bet a hundred pounds that girl
+is no common adventuress!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now keep calm. I don't want you to get angry, because I want
+your help. Come back and finish your breakfast, and I'll tell you more."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart subsided into his chair again.</p>
+
+<p>"I came back and took the letters straight to father, who became most
+excited. I always feel that he still has a very soft place in his heart
+for Lilian. My stepmother had an iron will, and he was completely
+subjugated by her. I asked him if he had ever heard that Lilian had
+had a child, for it was news to me. He said he knew that she died at a
+child's birth, but had quite understood that the child had died too. I
+asked him if he had any letters about it. He said no, the husband had
+written to my stepmother, and he thought the letter had been destroyed.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I asked him if he had kept any of my stepmother's papers or
+letters. He said he had kept a small private desk of hers. He had
+locked it up in one of his drawers after her death, and had never
+touched them. So I asked him if he would mind looking through them. He
+did it at once; and I helped him.</p>
+
+<p>"For a long time we found nothing to throw any light upon it, and then
+we came across two letters—one from Hubert Hartbrook to my stepmother,
+and one from dear Lilian to me and which had been purposely kept from
+me; I don't know why my stepmother did not destroy them. I suppose we
+must forgive the dead. I dare say she was afraid of upsetting me when
+I was at school. How she hated Lilian! I suppose because Lilian never
+would make herself civil to her.</p>
+
+<p>"The only thing, Stuart, that makes me believe in this girl was the
+look in her eyes, and the set of her head when she opened the door and
+dismissed me. It took me straight back to Lilian, who used to sweep
+from the room after some of her rows, and regard the stepmother as if
+she were the dirt under her feet. If this girl is her daughter, she
+has not my phlegmatic soul, but the same hot pride and temper as poor
+Lilian had."</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," said Stuart; "what did the letters say?"</p>
+
+<p>Barbara took a small letter case out of her pocket, and put the two
+letters into his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Read them. They are very characteristic of the writer."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart read as follows—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"DEAR LADY MURRAY,—I write to you, as we fancy all letters are opened
+by you. Will you let Sir Mark know that my dear wife died yesterday.
+She has not been at all strong, and the worry of having all her letters
+returned by you no doubt told upon her. She lived to see her little
+daughter, but sank from exhaustion twelve hours afterwards. I shall
+take the child to England with me. If her grandfather ever wants to see
+her, he can write to me. But this will be my last letter to Marley.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;">"Yours,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 14em;">"H. HARTBROOK."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"That fellow had some grit in him," said Stuart thoughtfully, as he
+folded the letter and handed it back. "I suppose Lady Murray never
+showed this to your father?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; she carried her spite beyond poor Lilian's death. My father had
+never been given any of Lilian's letters. My stepmother kept the key of
+the post-bag and doled out all the letters herself. Now read this one
+from Lilian to me. It is almost sacred, and yet you are such a friend
+that I want you to see it."</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY DEAREST BARBARA,—I must just write you a line, for I feel weak and
+unready for the strenuous time in front of me. If my darling little
+one lives and is motherless, I hope that when you grow up, you may see
+it and love it for my sake. I hope it will be a girl, for she would
+comfort my poor Hubert. I am sure I shall not come through. My heart
+is with you and with father. I wish I had not married as I did, but I
+felt that we would never be allowed to do so at all if we waited for
+father's consent. Lady Murray must have made him write as bitterly as
+he did when I announced our engagement. And Hubert has made me happy,
+and we have had a lovely year together.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"Your loving sister,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">"LILIAN."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Stuart handed this back to her without a word.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you have read them, and you can imagine how father and I felt.
+He was most eager to see the girl, and told me it would be quite easy
+to write to the English chaplain in Florence and get him to make
+inquiries about the birth of the child and its baptism. Of course, I
+told him that if the father took the child straight back to England, he
+most likely would not have had it baptised in Florence. Anyhow, after
+breakfast yesterday morning, I went down to the Patches, and actually
+found the girl had decamped and had left no address.</p>
+
+<p>"Father was dreadfully put out when he knew. She might have waited as I
+asked her to."</p>
+
+<p>"I met her at the station."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Stuart, what did she say?"</p>
+
+<p>"She said she was 'on adventure bound,' that she wished she had never
+come to Marley, or seen any of us."</p>
+
+<p>"That doesn't sound well. She may be an imposter."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she is genuine," said Stuart gravely. "And if you were more
+observant, and not quite so self-absorbed, you would know it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Stuart, do I deserve that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think you do. You have trampled on her pretty heavily. Suppose
+that she is your niece, and, through adverse circumstances, nearly
+penniless, you have sent her back to London to sink or swim, and ten
+chances to one, she'll sink."</p>
+
+<p>"But she has her father's relations. She has no appearance of poverty.
+That girl has been brought up and educated in the most comfortable
+circumstances. Unobservant as I am, I could see that."</p>
+
+<p>"She told my mother that her father is dead, and also her uncles
+who have brought her up. She means to earn her living in London by
+needlework. A risky proceeding, I should say."</p>
+
+<p>"What are we to do?" Barbara asked rather helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Get Walter to look up the quarters of these defunct uncles; there may
+be someone there who will still be in touch with her. If we weren't in
+the middle of the hay, I would go to town for you. Why don't you go
+yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"What good should I do? It is like looking for a needle in a haystack."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to find her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do! Don't think me my stepmother over again. After
+Lilian's letter to me, I feel bound to discover her child, if it is
+alive. I'll write to Walter by the next post. Father has already
+written to Florence. There are many points in her favour. Do you know
+what her Christian name is? Damaris; Mrs. Patch has told me that.
+Lilian had a beloved school friend called Damaris Trenchard. She may
+have told her husband to call the baby that. It's a queer coincidence,
+anyhow, for it is not a common name."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't a shadow of doubt as to her identity. Haven't you a portrait
+of your sister in the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, upstairs. That was my stepmother's doing. She banished it to our
+old schoolroom. Come and see it."</p>
+
+<p>They left the dining-room and walked up the broad oaken stairs and
+along a gallery till they came to a baize door which led to the old
+nurseries and schoolroom. Here, in a shabby, empty room, they saw
+Lilian's portrait facing them as they came in.</p>
+
+<p>It was a full-length portrait of her dressed in her riding-habit
+leaning against one of the pillars of the front porch of the house; two
+greyhounds were nestling against her. She held her head proudly, and
+there was a defiant rather scornful curve in her beautiful mouth. It
+was the picture of a girl in all the splendid indifference and glory of
+her youth, and it was Damaris to the life, only a little more hard and
+bitter than the Damaris of Stuart's acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart gazed at the portrait earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"The same wonderful starry grey eyes with the long curled lashes," he
+said. "Why, Barbara, if you knew this picture well, how could you fail
+to recognise the likeness?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know the picture well," said Barbara, looking up at it with
+a wistful expression. "I haven't been in this room for years. I had
+only my memory to guide me. And I did recognise a resemblance when she
+bowed me out so haughtily. But all the same, we must have more legal
+proofs than we possess at present that she is really our relative. And
+meanwhile, the difficulty of her whereabouts is not solved."</p>
+
+<p>"And she may be starving in London," said Stuart.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't rub it in. We must find her, even if we employ Scotland Yard."</p>
+
+<p>"We can hunt up her old uncles' will and see who proved it. This
+nephew, I suppose, who disinherited the girl. He must know where she
+is, or the lawyer. She must have a little money, and most likely draw
+it through him. You write to Walter, for no time should be lost; and
+then, if she's not found by the time the hay is done, I'll go up to
+town and hunt for her myself."</p>
+
+<p>With this promise Barbara was fain to be content.</p>
+
+<p>Her brother Walter was written to; he wrote back in a fortnight's time
+to say that the house had been sold, and young Hartbrook had gone
+abroad.</p>
+
+<p>The family lawyer had informed him that Damaris had simply disappeared
+one day, leaving word behind that she was very content with the plans
+she had made for herself, and preferred to give no address. He added
+that she had taken a certain sum of ready money with her, but otherwise
+was penniless, and had not given her cousin the chance of providing for
+her. With regard to her identity, the lawyer knew that Hubert Hartbrook
+had arrived with her as a small baby many years ago, and his uncles had
+taken him in, and given their great-niece a home from that day.</p>
+
+<p>When Sir Mark heard this, he became more anxious than ever to find her.</p>
+
+<p>"To think that she came down to make herself known to us, and then,
+directly that was done, she should run away and leave no traces behind
+her! I wish she had come to me, poor little soul. You deal so harshly
+with people, Barbara—you frightened her away. I suppose she thought we
+would not own her!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was harsh," said Barbara honestly. "I am sorry for what I said
+now: but we will find her, father, and if she proves to be Lilian's
+child, you may be sure that I will welcome her. I don't know how it is,
+but I never take to young girls, and I did not take to her. I thought
+she was an imposter."</p>
+
+<p>"You always believe the worst of people," said her father gravely;
+"it's a bad fault for a woman, Barbara."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, father, you have scolded me enough; I am angry with myself. But
+I'll do my best to trace her. It was temper that took her off—unless
+she really went to find the proofs we ought to have. She may have done
+that. If so, we will hear from her again. And I think we had better
+keep this matter to ourselves. I don't want the whole village to get
+hold of it. I know Stuart does not intend to tell his aunt, because she
+is such a chatterbox."</p>
+
+<p>"I met Mrs. Dashwood," Sir Mark said, "when I was out this morning, and
+I told her all about it; only I asked her not to let it go any farther."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe Mrs. Dashwood is like a Father Confessor to you! But she's
+safe enough. As she knows, I think I'll go and see her this afternoon.
+I believe she heard from her."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara found Mrs. Dashwood in.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not a very frequent visitor to the Rectory, am I?" she said,
+when Mrs. Dashwood had expressed her pleasure at seeing her. "But
+my self-confidence has received a shake, and as father has told you
+everything, I thought I would like to know what you think about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I am so glad you have come to me. I am longing to hear more details.
+And I am troubled about her disappearance, as I don't believe she had
+anywhere to go to."</p>
+
+<p>"But she can't be quite friendless."</p>
+
+<p>"She told me she had led a very secluded life with her two old uncles.
+They would not allow her to make friends—the old are very selfish
+sometimes—and she had very little knowledge of the world. I don't think
+I shall be betraying her confidence when I tell you that she left her
+old home because it had become the property of her cousin, and she
+would be beholden to him for nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"But that was foolish and proud."</p>
+
+<p>"I gathered that there had been an engagement between them, and that
+neither of them were happy together, so she thought the best thing was
+to break it off and come away. All the money and property was left to
+him. She was in an awkward position."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," said Barbara, musingly, "if she is really Lilian's
+daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have reason to be proud of her if she is. I wish you had known her
+as I did. You could not have failed to be interested in her."</p>
+
+<p>"I had one interview with her and that was a disastrous one to us both.
+Did she ever give you a hint of why she had come into this part of the
+world?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; but I knew there was something on her mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't she come to us at once with her story? That is what puzzles
+me. It was not straightforward."</p>
+
+<p>"You must make allowances for her youth. Of course, you would not have
+acted so; but I think her courage failed her. She said once to me that
+you looked very alarming, and that she wondered if she would ever know
+you. I said that you were not fond of calling upon anybody, and that
+you never called on the few lodgers who came and went. You don't, do
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Barbara, in her blunt fashion: "why should I? You do it
+because they become your parishioners for the time being. I should
+never have called upon her if she had taken root here. I was petrified
+when she told me she wished to speak to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little Damaris! So reserved and dignified in some ways, so
+frightened and childish in others. I can't bear to think of her in
+London alone. She is very sensitive and highly strung, and it is only
+the rougher natures that can stand the working life in London."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, every girl does something nowadays!" said Barbara. "But, of
+course, she is too young and pretty to be without any friends in
+London. I am very sorry about it all. I don't know how we are to find
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you thought of advertising in the daily papers."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that any good? Personally, I never look at the
+advertisement column in any paper, but perhaps she might. I'll mention
+it to father."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'll pray about it," said Mrs. Dashwood simply; "that is my way,
+you know. God knows where she is, and He can, if He will, make her
+whereabouts known to us."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I had your faith," said Barbara lightly, and then she took her
+departure.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_8">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>IN LONDON</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>WHEN Damaris reached town, she took a bed-room for herself at the
+Paddington Hotel. She was so uncertain about her movements that she
+only booked it for one night. Her idea was to get hold of Stevens,
+whom she expected to find in her old home. And early the next morning,
+she made her way round there. To her dismay, she found an empty house
+in the hands of painters and decorators. She spoke to one of the men,
+and asked if he knew where Mr. Hartbrook was. The man said he did not
+know that name, but that the present owner of the house was a Captain
+Douglas.</p>
+
+<p>Perplexed, and bitterly disappointed to find Stevens gone, Damaris made
+her way to a neighbouring dairy, from whom they had always had their
+milk. They told her there that all the servants had left a fortnight
+previously; that young Mr. Hartbrook, they believed, had gone abroad;
+and that the house had been sold.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was quite dazed. She felt as if she were suddenly flung out
+into an unfriendly world, and all her belongings swept away from her.</p>
+
+<p>"What am I to do?" she asked herself. "I can never afford to live in
+an hotel. I must try to get some comfortable rooms somewhere. I expect
+Stevens has gone home to her people. I will write to her at once. I
+long to tell her now what I have been doing."</p>
+
+<p>She walked round the square, wondering what she had better do. Her
+courage rose to the occasion, she would not allow herself to feel
+helpless and unnerved.</p>
+
+<p>Then she went to a chemist at the corner of the square. She had known
+him for years. Her uncles had dealt with him, and she thought he might
+know of some respectable rooms. He was only too pleased to try to help
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I did know of some rooms near here," he said; "but London
+is very full just now, and I think you will find difficulty in
+getting any. I suppose you wouldn't like a boarding-house? I know an
+inexpensive one in Bayswater. My wife's cousin keeps it. Of course, she
+may be full up; but you could ask her if she could take you. I'll get
+the address. I know she has several young ladies who go out to their
+work every day from her house."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. I think I might try her," said Damaris hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>She received the address and started off for Bayswater. It did not look
+very prepossessing when she reached it. It was a dingy house in a dingy
+terrace, but when the door opened, everything looked clean and shining
+inside, and a smiling little maidservant took her into a small back
+parlour where very soon Mrs. Jute made her appearance. She was a tall
+anxious-faced woman with short-sighted blue eyes. Damaris mentioned the
+chemist by name.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you know him," Mrs. Jute said, "for it will make other
+references unnecessary. Is it as a permanent boarder you wish to come?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't quite say," said Damaris hesitating; "I want to stay in London
+for the present."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have a small single room at the top of the house," said Mrs.
+Jute. "Will you be in to meals?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think so."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I must ask two pounds for the week, fires and meals in bed-room
+extra."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris considered.</p>
+
+<p>"May I see the room?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jute led the way. They toiled up three flights of stairs, the
+stair carpets giving way to cheap oilcloth as they ascended. When
+Damaris saw the room, she gasped. It had a sloping roof, and seemed
+stuffy and airless. There was a small iron bedstead, a washstand,
+and chest of drawers. The latter served as a dressing table, and the
+looking-glass upon it was cracked. A strip of stair-carpet was by the
+bed. Drab-flowered paper was on the walls; there were no pictures or
+ornaments of any kind. There were coarse lace curtains to the windows.
+The blind was stained and discoloured. All her life Damaris had been
+accustomed to beautiful furniture and luxurious surroundings. This room
+did not seem fit for a servant to sleep in. But it was clean; her quick
+eyes noted that.</p>
+
+<p>"It is very small," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the only one I have."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I think I will take it."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you at work anywhere?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not just yet. I embroider; and I was wondering how I could sit up here
+in the hot weather."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but there is the drawing-room," said Mrs. Jute hastily. "You can
+always sit there. Most of my young ladies are out in the daytime. Miss
+Hardacre is the only one that uses it, and she's a very quiet little
+lady. I'll show you the drawing-room. It has a nice balcony in front."</p>
+
+<p>She led the way downstairs. Damaris followed her with a sinking heart.
+She had scorned her uncle's exquisitely furnished rooms, now she began
+to wonder why she had. The drawing-room was in partial darkness; the
+venetian blinds were down. There was a round table in the middle of it
+with some fashion papers and a book or two. On a dingy green velvet
+sofa by the window lay a little old lady in cap and shawl. She hastily
+rose when Damaris came in, and the girl saw that she was slightly
+deformed.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't let me disturb you," said Damaris pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, not at all—not at all—I was having a little mid-day nap. Would you
+like the blinds up?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Mrs. Jute; "this young lady is only looking round; we
+won't disturb you, Miss Hardacre."</p>
+
+<p>They went downstairs, and Damaris arranged to come in that same day.</p>
+
+<p>She felt almost as if she were in a dream. Was it only the day before
+that she had been at Marley? It seemed like a year to her. But she
+would not let herself stop to think. She went straight off to the
+Kensington Art School. She had brought a bit of her needle work as
+a specimen of what she could do, and to her great delight was given
+a commission at once to start a curtain border. The pay was small,
+but she felt it would be better than nothing, and she returned to
+Paddington to fetch her suit-case.</p>
+
+<p>On the way to her new quarters, she began wondering what had become of
+all her clothes. She had left them all behind when she had gone off so
+suddenly, meaning to send for them later.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to write to Dane; perhaps Stevens knows about them. I
+will write to her at once."</p>
+
+<p>So when she reached her small bed-room, she got out her writing-case
+and wrote her letter. It was a little cooler now. The afternoon sun was
+hidden behind the opposite houses. She went downstairs and posted her
+letter, then she went into the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre was now sitting in an easy chair by the window, reading.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris took another chair and commenced her embroidery. Before very
+long, she and Miss Hardacre were chatting pleasantly together. She was
+told about each inmate of the house. There was Mary Watts, who was a
+daily governess to a London vicar's family; she was a Girton student,
+and had very advanced ideas of women's position in the future. Then
+there were Fanny and Florence Crane, two sisters, both employed in
+type-writing offices in the city.</p>
+
+<p>"They are not very refined," said Miss Hardacre, "and seem to have
+their heads only full of men, and of dress and amusement; but Fanny is
+kind-hearted, and when once I had a very bad cold on my chest, she came
+in one night and poulticed me, and looked after me until I was well
+again."</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a Mrs. Pounds, who had a private sitting-room and a
+pet dog, and only appeared at meal-times. And there was a Mr. and
+Mrs. Lawford; he was in some City business, and was a meek little
+grey-haired man entirely ruled by his wife who taught dancing in a good
+many suburban schools, and had no time for housekeeping or looking
+after a house of her own. Then there was a Miss Green, an art student,
+and her great friend, a Mrs. Wood, a widow, who was a journalist. These
+completed the party.</p>
+
+<p>"I am an idler and drone myself," said Miss Hardacre; "but I have not
+the health for work. And I am thankful to have a roof over my head
+in these hard times. I used, years ago, to have a dream of a little
+cottage in the country with a rosy-faced smiling village girl as a
+maid, but it never came to pass. And at the time I was thinking of
+it, my only brother was in sad difficulty and I was glad to help him;
+and I have never had the energy or money since to start a home. I had
+furniture then, but I had to sell it."</p>
+
+<p>"And is your brother alive?" questioned Damaris, with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"He died two years ago out in Australia."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause, then Miss Hardacre said, "When I was your age, I
+lived in the country. My father was in the Indian Army, but he retired
+when I was quite half-small. I received my hurt—" she glanced at
+her shoulder as she spoke—"in a carriage accident. It kept me from
+marrying, of course, and from a good many girlish pleasures. But I am
+boring you with my reminiscences."</p>
+
+<p>"I like to hear them," Damaris assured her.</p>
+
+<p>"My parents both died when I was about thirty, and then I lived with a
+devoted friend of mine. She was more than a sister to me; such a clever
+woman she was—too clever for me. I became quite bewildered with her
+theories. The worst trouble in my life was when she died, and it was in
+such sad circumstances." A look of pain crossed her face. Then she said
+in a lighter tone, "Ah, well! Time heals, to a certain extent. I have
+out-lived all my hopes and aspirations, and when one expects nothing,
+one learns to be content."</p>
+
+<p>"That sounds very depressing to me," said Damaris; "surely we can
+always hope. Good people tell one of the life to come."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre looked over her spectacles at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that life will bring us more than this world gives? As
+far as I see it, it will be one long expiation for all our misdeeds
+here—or, as the Bible tells us, an everlasting condemnation."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I don't think that. I am not very religious, but good people all
+seem to have hopes of a better time coming."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Miss Hardacre feebly. "I lost my faith long ago,
+when Annie died. I told you she was clever. She took up Christian
+Science, and never rested till she got me to believe it, too. She was
+much better than I. And she never expected illness would come to either
+of us. When it came to her—she died of an internal growth—she laughed
+at her symptoms and fought bravely till she could fight no longer. I
+can never forgive some of her friends. They came round her and told
+her she was failing in trust and right thinking. She knew she was not,
+but this made her very unhappy; and just before she died, she told me
+that everything had failed her. I cannot talk about it, but everything
+failed me too, and I have believed in nothing ever since. I don't know
+why we were brought into the world. Some of us are not necessary in
+this life. But I don't know why I am talking in this miserable strain
+to you. When one is young one does not trouble about serious subjects.
+It is only when we get old and lonely that thoughts come to us. I try
+not to think, but just take a day at a time. It is the only way."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked a little troubled.</p>
+
+<p>"I have lately come across two very happy people," she said; "one an
+old bed-ridden woman, the other a young active one. And they both
+believe firmly in the Bible, and stake all their hopes of future
+happiness upon its promises."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—yes," said Miss Hardacre hastily; "I used to read it once." Then,
+wishing to change the subject, she said, "I met a nice girl once who
+had the same name as yourself. Have you any relations of the name of
+Hartbrook?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, one or two. Where did you meet this girl?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was before I came here—about three years ago. I was in lodgings in
+Bloomsbury for a short time, and she occupied an attic room above mine.
+She was in deep mourning like yourself, and was just beginning to earn
+her own living. She was rather an amusing creature—very kind to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know where she is now? She might be a cousin of mine; we were
+hunting for her everywhere a short time ago."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I have lost her address. But it's rather a strange proceeding—our
+birthdays happen to fall on the same date, and we made a compact that
+we would write to each other for them once a year. My birthday will be
+next week, so I shall, most likely, hear from her, but I am afraid I
+shall not be able to write to her in time. It was very careless of me."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to find her out if she is my cousin," said Damaris
+wistfully. "It is nice to have somebody belonging to one, is it not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will certainly let you have her address when she writes. She is not
+at all like you in appearance."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am supposed to be very like my mother, and she was not a
+Hartbrook."</p>
+
+<p>When, a little later, Damaris sat down to a long table in the
+shabby dining-room downstairs, she again cast her mind back to the
+carefully-appointed and well-cooked dinners in her uncles' house. Here
+there was a strong smell of cabbage-water, and burnt fat on the fire.
+The table cloth was soiled and creased, the silver like dingy pewter,
+the glasses dull, as if washed in greasy water. A half-dead maiden-hair
+fern was in the centre of the table, and some faded roses in four
+specimen glasses were round it.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner consisted of some very greasy soup, boiled leg of mutton,
+and a treacle roly-poly. To most of the hungry workers, who had had a
+scanty lunch in the middle of the day, this fare was both acceptable
+and sustaining, to Damaris, it was most unappetising. She sat at
+Mrs. Jute's left hand, the usual place for the latest comer, and on
+her other side was Miss Watts the governess who overwhelmed her with
+talk and questions about herself and circumstances. Damaris noted how
+several of the other boarders stopped their conversation to listen to
+her replies, and she resented the inquisitiveness of both questioner
+and listeners. Her replies grew shorter and colder until at last Miss
+Watts turned from her with a little impatience, and she was left to
+finish her meal in peace.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner was over, a certain proportion of the diners came into the
+drawing-room. A bridge table was moved out, and Mr. and Mrs. Lawford,
+Miss Green and Mrs. Wood sat down to play. Mrs. Pounds seated herself
+on the sofa and talked to Miss Hardacre, but she soon went upstairs to
+her own room, and Miss Hardacre went up herself at nine o'clock. Nobody
+spoke to Damaris, and she worked at her embroidery till half-past nine;
+then she, also, retired to her room, and surprised herself by a sudden
+burst of tears when she was alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall never stand it! I hate these people! I can't bear their
+talk, it's all sordid and horrid. I don't mind poor little Miss
+Hardacre, she's the only nice one amongst them; but it's dreadful to
+feel so lonely! I wish I hadn't come away from Marley so hurriedly.
+How delicious the country was! And the people! I might have made nice
+friends if I had stayed on there, and yet I couldn't have done it
+when Aunt Barbara looked upon me as an imposter. I don't know what
+will become of me! I used to think it would be so delightful to be
+independent, and able to do exactly as one liked. But I don't find it
+so pleasant now. And when my little store of money is gone, I shall
+never earn enough to keep me going."</p>
+
+<p>She went to bed very miserable; the heat and airlessness of London kept
+her awake. She felt as if she could not breathe in her tiny room. At
+last, she dropped off to sleep.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>And when she woke the next morning things did not look so black. The
+buoyancy of youth asserted itself, and, after a couple of days had
+passed, she became accustomed to her atmosphere, made friends with her
+fellow-boarders, and was happier in consequence. On the third day,
+Stevens appeared. She had come up to London on purpose to see her young
+mistress, and Damaris cried when she saw her.</p>
+
+<p>She took her out into Kensington Gardens, and there in a quiet part
+under the shade of the trees, they talked over matters together.
+Stevens was astounded to hear that Damaris had discovered her mother's
+family, but very vexed that she had not been taken into her confidence.</p>
+
+<p>"If you had taken me with you, Miss Damaris, I would have made things
+all clear. I could have told them that I received you as a little baby
+from the hands of your father. You went off so hastily that you did not
+even take your jewel case with you. And there is a necklet of pearls
+which belonged to your mother, and two rings. Your aunt would have
+recognised them.</p>
+
+<p>"You were baptized at St. Stephen's Church, and I was there holding
+you, and you were as good as gold and cooed up into the vicar's face
+as he took you in his arms. I think I had better go down to this place
+you've been staying at. I feel I could give them a piece of my mind for
+daring to doubt your word."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, look here, Stevens, I absolutely forbid you to do anything of
+the kind! They don't wish to have anything to do with me. I could see
+my aunt did not. And I am not going to live on their charity. I am not
+going near them again, and I don't wish you to do so. It makes me wish
+I had never told you, when you talk so."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Miss Damaris, you're very young, and much too pretty to be
+knocking about London alone. You've always had your comforts, and you
+can't go on living where you are. I know what they boarding-houses are
+like—'specially the cheap ones. And 'tisn't fit for you. I'm simply
+furious with Mr. Dane to sell up the old masters' things and turn you
+out of the house without a penny!"</p>
+
+<p>"I turned myself out. Would you have liked me to marry him, Stevens?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I had uncomfortable moments thinking about it. He was too selfish
+and pleasure-loving to make a good husband. I'm glad I gave him a
+piece of my mind. I spoke straight out when I had your letter, and he
+deserved every word I said. It was a sorry day when he came into the
+house. But that's neither here nor there. What we've got to do is to
+think what will become of you. Your bit of money won't last long, Miss
+Damaris. It seems to me you had best come home with me for a time. But
+your relations are bound to do something for you. 'Tis no good to be
+proud, there's no shame in taking from your own flesh and blood. The
+sooner you and they comes together the better for you all."</p>
+
+<p>"Stevens, do you know that hundreds of girls, no older than I am, are
+earning their own living in London? I mean to do it, too. I shall go on
+working for the Art School for as long as they want me. If that fails,
+I shall get some other job; I am no early Victorian girl. I mean to do
+as others do. And you see if I don't weather through all right. Now I
+want to ask you about my clothes. I never imagined that cousin Dane
+would send you off, or I should not have left them behind."</p>
+
+<p>"I packed three big trunks myself, Miss Damaris, and they're stored
+for the time, but your jewel case I took with me, knowing as you would
+write sooner or later and let me know where you were. I've brought it
+up with me."</p>
+
+<p>Stevens produced it. She looked terribly anxious, and Damaris laughed
+at her anxiety, feeling much more ready to go on living by herself in
+the face of her opposition.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing would induce her to yield to Stevens's entreaty that she should
+be allowed to go down to Marley and interview Sir Mark Murray herself.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis the gentleman you should have gone straight to, Miss Damaris, not
+the lady. Men always see the rights of things quicker than us women.
+They aren't so prejudiced and suspicious as we are. A man goes straight
+over an obstacle in his way, a woman looks round the corners and tries
+to edge round it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see the simile," said Damaris, smiling. "Sir Mark would have
+made shorter work of me, I expect. We won't discuss it any more; but
+before you leave me, you must promise not to communicate with any of
+them without my permission."</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before Stevens would do this, but at last, Damaris
+wrung the promise out of her by threatening to move her present
+quarters and not tell her where she would be. Just before Stevens left,
+an inspiration seemed to come to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Damaris, I've saved a good bit, and have got rather tired of
+service. I was only telling my sister so the other day. How would it be
+if I were to come up to London and take a nice little house somewhere
+and let lodgings? You could be my first lodger, and maybe I could get
+others, and I have a cousin a first-rate cook; I believe she'd join
+me. I should be comfortable about you, then. And by-and-by, you'd see
+different, and would want to live with your relations."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it would be charming, Stevens, if you could do such a thing.
+Go home and think about it, and meanwhile I shall stay on where I am,
+till your idea can be carried out."</p>
+
+<p>Stevens went off, smiling; but once away from Damaris, her face settled
+into one of the most anxious gravity.</p>
+
+<p>"She's such an innocent child, and has been so sheltered all her life,
+that 'tis terrible to think of her on her own. It's to be hoped it will
+not last long. And if I can't bring her and her grandfather together
+without breaking my promise—well, I'm not so clever as I'm given credit
+for!"</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_9">CHAPTER IX</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE RUNAWAY IS TRACKED</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>IT was Miss Hardacre's birthday. Damaris had gone out early and bought
+her a lovely bunch of flowers. She was getting really attached to the
+quiet little uncomplaining woman, but longed sometimes to be able to
+cheer her by a more hopeful outlook.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre was disappointed not to have received a letter from her
+young friend, Miss Hartbrook, but about eleven o'clock, when she and
+Damaris were sitting in the drawing-room together, and just arranging
+to take a little walk in the gardens a visitor was announced, and a
+tall rather shabbily dressed girl appeared, with a fair honest face,
+and a lot of curly red-brown hair.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre threw up her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it you, Nellie!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Unnecessary One, it is. Me in the flesh! I have a holiday, and
+instead of writing, I determined to come in person and congratulate you
+on another year having slipped away in this vale of tears."</p>
+
+<p>They kissed each other affectionately, and Miss Hardacre hastily
+introduced Damaris, who was making a move from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go, dear, till you have spoken to each other and found out if
+you are relations."</p>
+
+<p>The girls looked at each other. Then Damaris asked quietly—</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a brother called Dane, I wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl gave a short laugh, but not a very pleasant one.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes, I have, and once upon a time I prided myself upon the fact.
+Who can you be? The young cousin who lived with my two old great-uncles
+whom I never saw?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but why have we never known each other? Why have you kept away?"</p>
+
+<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"I was brought up by my mother's family, and lived with an aunt till
+about four years ago, when she died. It was only last week that I heard
+in a roundabout way of my brother having come home, and of having
+come in to all our uncles' money. Wouldn't you have thought he would
+have sought his sister out and let her share a little of his abundant
+wealth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! But he did, he did; he hunted everywhere for you," said Damaris
+eagerly. "We all did, but you had disappeared."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to know that much. Of course we were bad correspondents—I
+used to write to him when I was quite a girl, but he never answered me,
+so I left off writing. He never sent me one halfpenny, though I know he
+was doing very well for himself out in India. Of course, as long as my
+aunt lived, I did not need help, but I had a stiff fight afterwards.
+I'm just keeping my head above water now as The Unnecessary One knows;
+but it rather set my back up when I heard that the lawyer had given
+him my address, and yet that he never troubled to write me one line,
+or make one effort to see me." Then she looked a little sharply at
+Damaris. "You are engaged to him, are you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not now. I was for a short time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Then does that mean that you have lost your home?"</p>
+
+<p>"The house and furniture are sold. I don't know where your brother is
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"But you were left some of their money, weren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I received nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Shake hands! You and I are fellow sufferers then. But money isn't the
+only thing in life. There are plenty of good things besides. Health and
+brains. I'm told I have them both. You're lucky in rubbing against Miss
+Hardacre. Isn't she a little dear? I was very down in my luck when I
+first saw her. She comforted me like a mother."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no comfort to give anyone," Miss Hardacre protested mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>"But you've got sympathy—that's quite as good. Has she told you my
+nickname for her cousin? She's imbued with the idea that she is an
+unnecessary being on the face of the globe, so I rub it in. But I know
+there 'll be an empty spot in my heart when she goes out."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled. She liked this bright, brusque cousin of hers, and
+before long, they became quite intimate. Nellie Hartbrook had come to
+take out Miss Hardacre for the day, and she extended the invitation to
+Damaris. At first, she declined it, but she saw that they really wanted
+her to come with them, and so the trio departed together, all having
+lunch at a quiet little restaurant of Nellie's choice.</p>
+
+<p>Then she took them to an afternoon concert at the Queen's Hall—Damaris
+discovered that Miss Hardacre was passionately fond of music, after
+which they had tea together, and Miss Hardacre and Damaris only
+returned to the boarding-house in time for dinner.</p>
+
+<p>But the cousins had been able to talk a great deal together, and though
+Nellie did not advise her to change her quarters at present, she told
+her that if she wanted any city work, she believed she could put her in
+the way of doing something.</p>
+
+<p>"We won't lose each other. It's nice to have some relations, isn't
+it?" Nellie said. "And I believe you and I have a good many tastes in
+common—witness both of us taking such a liking to the Unnecessary One."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris acquiesced eagerly. She felt her heart go out to the brave
+uncomplaining girl, who was so cheerful on so little of this world's
+bounty.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>She discussed her with Miss Hardacre the following day.</p>
+
+<p>"It is such an extraordinary coincidence that I should find her through
+knowing you," Damaris said. "If only I had been able to find her
+before, I believe her brother would have done something for her. He
+talked as if he would."</p>
+
+<p>"But what made him change so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. He did change in a remarkable way; it was that which
+made me feel I could not marry him. I think he had expensive tastes,
+and made friends with some extravagant women, and then wanted all his
+money for himself. I wish Nellie would make herself known to him now.
+He might do something for her."</p>
+
+<p>"She will not do that, I am afraid. I think that both you and she are
+very proud. Too proud to be beneficial for yourselves. But Nellie is a
+dear girl."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre spoke with feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"You would never take any money from people who did not want to give it
+to you, would you?" Damaris asked.</p>
+
+<p>"If I were very poor, and if it were my right, why should I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe you would."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's tone was emphatic, and Miss Hardacre smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well! One does not know what one would do until one is tried. I
+am thankful I have just enough to keep me from anyone's charity at
+present." She sighed. "We all have to leave our money behind sooner or
+later. When one gets old and feeble, the less one has, the less anxiety
+is in one's life."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I rather like comfort—even luxury," confessed Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see you have been brought up in it."</p>
+
+<p>And then Damaris found herself confiding in Miss Hardacre. She told
+her of her life with her uncles, of Dane's arrival, and of her sudden
+departure, and then of Marley and its inhabitants, but she did not
+touch upon her connection with the Hall. That, she felt, she must keep
+to herself. She simply stated that she went to Marley because an aunt
+of hers had once lived there—and Miss Hardacre asked no inquisitive
+questions, not even why she had left her lodgings so suddenly and come
+to London to get work.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris haltingly tried to explain.</p>
+
+<p>"I felt I must get to work, but I was sorry to leave the village. I
+have missed a good deal by coming away. I went there feeling very
+unhappy, but I began to get comforted and cheered. Two people helped me
+a lot—a very pretty bright young rector's wife and an old bed-ridden
+woman. They both had shining eyes and soft tender voices, and they
+talked of good things so happily and naturally that it made me want to
+hear more. I wish you had heard them! Mrs. Dashwood said she thought I
+had been sent to Marley to be rested in my soul and body, and she hoped
+I wouldn't miss it. I did miss it; I came away hurriedly, though I was
+dimly seeing that they had something good which I did not possess."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a matter of temperament," said Miss Hardacre in a dreary tone. "I
+don't think people's talk affects me much. I have grown beyond that."</p>
+
+<p>It was strange how she and Damaris talked together in that shabby
+drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Damaris often looked back in her after life to the hot August
+afternoons in that darkened room, where she and Miss Hardacre had sat
+and worked and talked together. She could always picture the faded
+carpet and ugly ornaments, the hot stuffy velvet couches and chairs,
+the faint rumble of the distant traffic through the open windows. She
+could see the little high-shouldered lady with her pale patient face
+and sad blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>And the memory of their conversations there never left her. Politics,
+philosophy, and religion all had their share. Both—old woman and young
+girl—were feebly trying to penetrate some of life's mysteries, but the
+key was for the time out of their reach. They could only wonder and
+ponder—and if the hopelessness of the elder's outlook sometimes dimmed
+the buoyant aspirations of the younger, the irrepressible energy and
+high spirits of the latter gave fresh inspiration to the former.</p>
+
+<p>And so the summer months slowly passed, and Damaris still remained at
+Mrs. Jute's boarding-house.</p>
+
+<p>Stevens wrote occasionally. She was planning to come up in the autumn
+with her cousin, and take a small house in town where she could let
+lodgings.</p>
+
+<p>Nellie Hartbrook often came over to see Damaris and her old friend. It
+was she who showed them the announcement of her brother's engagement
+to Miss Welbeck in the "Morning Post." But she was determined not to
+make herself known to him, and Damaris felt she would give herself no
+pleasure by doing so.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>One afternoon, as Damaris was on the top of a 'bus, she saw the figure
+of her grandfather walking along Pall Mall. For one wild moment she
+felt inclined to get down from the 'bus and make herself known to him,
+but he was swept from her sight in a moment, and she knew that she
+would never have had the courage to speak to him.</p>
+
+<p>She had moments of contrition, sometimes. She felt she had acted hotly
+and impulsively in coming away so quickly. Her aunt had said that she
+would hear again from them; she had never stayed to give herself that
+chance, and now, as time passed, she began to wonder if she had been
+right in acting so.</p>
+
+<p>And then, one afternoon towards the end of September, she went shopping
+in Oxford Street. She was tired when she had finished her purchases,
+and was just turning into some tea-rooms at the top of Regent Street,
+when she suddenly came face to face with Stuart Maitland.</p>
+
+<p>A little startled, she was bowing rather stiffly to him and passing on,
+when he stopped her. He was in orthodox London clothes, and looked very
+smart, and very pleased to see her. Holding out his hand, he said, with
+his frank friendly smile—</p>
+
+<p>"Surely we are too great friends to pass each other by?"</p>
+
+<p>She returned the smile.</p>
+
+<p>"I am just going in here," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me come with you. I like a cup of tea as well as any woman; and I
+want to hear how you are getting on."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was vexed with him for following her into the tea-rooms. She
+carried her head high, and spoke in a remote cold tone.</p>
+
+<p>But he would not be snubbed. He found a quiet corner in an upper room,
+and took the ordering of the tea into his own hands.</p>
+
+<p>Then, when they were settled at their table, he looked across it at her
+with eyes that twinkled irrepressibly.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not glad to see me—why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know how much you know," said Damaris frankly but gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I know everything, and can't conceive why you ran away just at the
+critical moment."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot know everything," said Damaris with dignity, "or you would
+quite understand that to stay was impossible to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Because of Barbara's thick-headedness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because she refused to believe me, and doubted my word, and was
+convinced that I was only staying at the Patch's to spy, and discover
+all I could about the Murray family."</p>
+
+<p>There was hot indignation in Damaris's tone. Her eyes flashed, and
+Stuart saw that he must move warily.</p>
+
+<p>"Barbara was unprepared for your announcement. She was awfully sorry
+afterwards. Do you know that we have been trying to trace your
+whereabouts ever since you left Marley?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you are on Miss Murray's side, I am sorry that we met," said
+Damaris stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but it isn't a question of sides, is it? I honestly confess I do
+feel like one of the family. But you are one of us, remember!"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Murray says I am not. I do not ever wish to see her again," said
+Damaris, snapping her pretty lips together like steel.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't let us talk about her any more. Do you know that my aunt
+is in town at the Langham? I was just on my way to see her. She knows
+nothing of all this, so you won't let your wrath rest on her, will
+you? She would be so glad to see you. She has a slight cold, and wrote
+me that she was feeling very dull. Will you take pity on her and come
+over with me, after we have had tea, to the Longhorn? She has a private
+sitting-room there."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that I shall have time."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you staying?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at him steadily.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel inclined to say at present." Then she added with
+girlish eagerness. "There is nothing to hide, but I don't want the
+possibility of a visit from—from anyone at the Hall. It is quite a
+quiet respectable boarding-house. I may be moving somewhere else very
+shortly."</p>
+
+<p>"You can easily send a wire saying you 'll be dining out. Yes, I mean
+it. My aunt will be very angry if you don't stay to dinner with her.
+We'll discuss it later. Try one of these iced sandwiches. They aren't
+half bad. I think you are looking rather thin. Haven't you found August
+very trying in town?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt as if her breath were being taken away. In a pleasant but
+determined fashion, Stuart seemed to have taken full possession of her.
+As to quietly dismissing him after tea, as she had at first intended to
+do, that now seemed quite impossible. She really liked Mrs. Bonnycott,
+and would be glad to see her again. She lapsed into conventional
+talk about the weather and politics, and London sight-seeing. Stuart
+talked with enthusiasm over everything. When they had finished tea, he
+insisted upon paying the bill; and then for a moment dropped his easy
+bantering tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hartbrook, I'm your friend, don't forget it. Don't treat me as
+if I am a naughty curious meddling boy. I'm going to advise you for
+your good, and you must take it in good part. I want you to tell me
+everything you can about yourself. There's no hurry. Do you mind my
+having a smoke? Your place is at Marley Hall, not in London. We are
+all convinced of that. Your grandfather is longing to see you, but,
+of course, he wants all the proofs you can give him of your being his
+daughter's child. That is only reasonable, isn't it? Have you got any
+more proofs that you can produce?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris glanced up at him with a little rebellious curve to her lips.
+She looked like some pretty wilful child defying authority; and then
+suddenly her expression changed and melted. She put out her hand with a
+little French gesture.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me. You have always been kind to me. I will tell you all I
+can. It was my ignorance that made me go down to Marley without any
+proofs. Somehow I thought the letters would be sufficient to establish
+my identity."</p>
+
+<p>She then told him about Stevens and her mother's jewels, and her
+baptism at St. Stephen's Church. And then, she added—</p>
+
+<p>"And Stevens knows something else besides. I was not born at the little
+villa Rosini just outside Florence, which was my parents' home; but my
+mother went into Florence before I was born, and I expect my birth was
+registered there, for my father never went back to the villa to live—
+only to pack up. He came straight to England after my mother's death."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that will make it easier for us. We thought you would be
+registered outside Florence, in the little village close to the villa."</p>
+
+<p>"You do identify yourself with the Murrays."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't help it. I always have. Now then, shall we go and see my aunt?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't stay to dinner."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll see about that."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had dropped her dignified reserve. Stuart had always a very
+genial influence over people, and she chatted to him as they walked to
+the Langham about Marley and its inhabitants.</p>
+
+<p>"I have often wished myself back there," she said. "I should really
+like to go on living with the Patches, and be friends with the Hall."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh come, that doesn't sound well, when they are your relations."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really believe that?" Damaris fixed him with her steady grey
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I do indeed, honour bright! I told Barbara so at once. You are the
+image of your mother's portrait taken when she was about your age. You
+wouldn't like to remain an outsider always, instead of being in your
+proper home?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are not bound to give me a home," said Damaris slowly. "I feel
+that Miss Murray does not like me, and never will."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know Barbara. Her heart lies deep, but it is a big one."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was silent.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Bonnycott saw her, she was delighted.</p>
+
+<p>"The lost child! My dear, what a joy! And now you will tell us the
+meaning of your sudden departure. We were regarding you as a pleasant
+fixture, and then you absconded without a word of explanation. Where
+are you living, and what are you doing? Come and sit down and tell me
+all about yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I will leave her with you, Aunt Kits. She is going to dine with us,
+and then I will take her home. I have a little business to do, but I'll
+return shortly."</p>
+
+<p>He went away before Damaris had time to contradict his statement.</p>
+
+<p>She found it difficult to make her explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I was not well off," she said. "I could not go on living
+at Marley doing nothing. I should have had to make a move some time
+and—and I felt it was best to go away quickly."</p>
+
+<p>"But why didn't you leave us your address? I went round to Mrs. Patch,
+and she shook her head mysteriously, telling me she was a student of
+human nature and that there was more in you than was given credit for.
+She talked as if you were a burglar or a spy in disguise! Why were you
+so mysterious?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to be. I did not realise you were all so much
+interested in me. I came as a stranger, and I thought I could go
+away as such. I am earning my living now, as I told you I should, by
+art needlework. I was a pupil long ago at Kensington Art School, and
+they remembered me, and are very good in employing me. I'm in a quiet
+respectable boarding-house in Bayswater, and I came across Mr. Maitland
+quite by accident this afternoon. I think this is all my history. There
+is nothing mysterious in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can't make head or tail of it. Stuart has been making quite
+a rumpus over your disappearance, he is always talking about it. And
+ever since we have been in town, he has been looking out for you. At
+first I thought he must have fallen in love with you, but he was quite
+angry one night when I taxed him with it. He said he was only acting
+on behalf of your friends who wished to find you. I asked him who your
+friends were, but he put me off, and told me if I happened to come
+across you anywhere, I must make a point of finding out where you were
+staying.</p>
+
+<p>"You're looking very sweet, my dear. A little thinner, but you always
+dress yourself with such distinction. I'm so very glad to see you
+again. And now you shall come up to my bed-room and take off your hat
+and make yourself thoroughly comfortable. Ah, here comes Stuart? He has
+not been gone long!"</p>
+
+<p>Stuart had only been to the nearest post-office and wired to Barbara—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Elle est trouvé. Will write.—STUART."<br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_10">CHAPTER X</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A SUCCESSFUL ERRAND</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>IT was not the slightest use for Damaris to say she could not stay to
+dinner. Both Mrs. Bonnycott and her nephew would hear of no refusal.</p>
+
+<p>"You are under no compulsion to dine at your boarding-house to-night,"
+said Stuart, "Send a wire to them. Here is a form, and the hall porter
+will send it off."</p>
+
+<p>"You are paralysing me," said Damaris with a nervous little laugh. But
+she took the form and wrote her wire.</p>
+
+<p>As Stuart held out his hand for it, she hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"As a gentleman," she said, "I suppose I can take it for granted that
+you will not read it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are afraid I shall see the address? My dear Miss Hartbrook, of
+course I won't read it. But wild horses will not prevent me from seeing
+you home to-night. You can't help yourself. I have found you, and I do
+not intend to lose you again. Never!"</p>
+
+<p>The colour ebbed and flowed in Damaris's cheeks. He took her wire and
+handed it to the porter. Mrs. Bonnycott took her upstairs to her room,
+chatting to her rather irrelevantly of London and of all she had come
+up to do.</p>
+
+<p>When they returned to the private sitting-room, they found Stuart just
+opening the lid of the piano.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Damaris with one of his irresistible smiles.</p>
+
+<p>"Having forcibly taken possession of you and being determined to keep
+you prisoner till it pleases us to let you go, I now proceed to soothe
+your ruffled pride and charm away all antagonism and hot temper. Take a
+comfortable chair and close your eyes. You have no idea what a heavenly
+frame of mind you will be in before long."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you are going to play, I can't talk," said Mrs. Bonnycott a
+little impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me a quarter of an hour to disperse the wrinkles on Miss
+Hartbrook's brow."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall write a letter. I ought to have written it before. Your music
+never impresses me, as I often tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bonnycott moved to her writing-table, and Damaris was nothing
+loath to sit still and listen to Stuart's music.</p>
+
+<p>She could not feel angry with him, but she was annoyed at his masterful
+manner. This was not the Stuart Maitland she had known at Marley.</p>
+
+<p>"He thinks I am alone, and have no one belonging to me, so that he
+can treat me as he likes," was her first thought. And then she began
+wondering why he should trouble about her at all.</p>
+
+<p>But he began to play; his liquid touch and wonderful technique excited
+her admiration at once. Then the melody of his music took full
+possession of her, and she listened as if in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>Time passed, and Stuart was at the piano a good half-hour. He himself
+had no sense of the time when he was playing. At last, Mrs. Bonnycott,
+having finished her writing, interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to tell Miss Hartbrook a lot of things, and it will soon be
+dinner time. Have you nearly finished?"</p>
+
+<p>Stuart crashed down his last chord and got up from the piano.</p>
+
+<p>"And now you have forgiven me," he said to Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"You know your power as a musician," said Damaris, with a little laugh.
+"How I would like to hear music like yours every evening!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you. But I can't play to order. There are days when I couldn't
+touch a note to save my life. I don't worry you for days together, eh,
+Aunt Kits?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no! I'm thankful you aren't always at it. You have too many irons
+in the fire."</p>
+
+<p>The evening passed very pleasantly to Damaris. Mrs. Bonnycott was an
+amusing talker and Stuart seemed bent on drawing Damaris out. She found
+herself talking happily to both of them. But when the time for her
+departure came, she appealed to Mrs. Bonnycott.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you ask your nephew not to see me home? If he puts me into a bus
+at the corner of the street. I can get to my boarding-house without a
+change. I am quite accustomed to go about alone. Every girl does it
+nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, do you think I have authority over Stuart? Long ago, I
+decided that if he and I were to live at peace together, we must go our
+own ways and be absolutely independent of each other. Occasionally we
+have words, but very seldom. And I think he ought to see you home. It
+is too late for you to be out alone."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have a taxi," said Stuart cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was dumb. She felt helpless to offer any more resistance.</p>
+
+<p>When she and he were driving off together, he dropped the bantering air
+he had adopted towards her and spoke very gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we can talk freely. I don't want my aunt to know of your
+connection with the Hall till it is made public. Tell me exactly why
+you want to hide yourself away from us all? Doesn't it look as if you
+are not sure of your facts?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Damaris; "it is because I have lost all desire to own
+the Murrays as my relations. I need not make myself known to my
+grandfather. I feel I would rather not, now. They don't want me, and I
+don't want them."</p>
+
+<p>"That is rather childish. Having started the ball rolling, you must
+continue to roll it till it reaches its destination! By that I mean you
+must go through with what you have begun. I think if you are willing to
+meet your grandfather, all will go smoothly.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't want to meet either of them until they are convinced that
+I am not an imposter. I won't do it. I warn you, if you do discover
+my address to-night, I shall just move my quarters to-morrow. I won't
+see either Sir Mark or Miss Murray. I am not going to own them as my
+relations until they own me."</p>
+
+<p>"I see. Then we must get the last missing link in the chain. And I'll
+get that myself. I'll go right off to Florence to-morrow and get the
+register of your birth."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris exclaimed—</p>
+
+<p>"Why should you do such a thing? You're almost a stranger to me."</p>
+
+<p>"But I'm not a stranger to Barbara. You shan't be molested till I come
+back, if you promise on your honour to stay where you are. Come now, be
+reasonable; wouldn't you like it all cleared up and made right? We want
+you back at Marley. You were making friends there before you went away.
+Of course you want to right yourself in Barbara's eyes. And the old man
+is longing to get hold of you even now."</p>
+
+<p>"If I stay where I am, will you in your turn promise not to give them
+my address? I can't run the risk of having them come to interview me.
+It is useless until they have the proofs they want of my relationship
+to them."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. I'll promise not to tell where you are till I come back
+from Florence. Now, have you any idea where in that city you were born?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no idea, neither has Stevens; but I had an Italian nurse who
+went back to Italy when I was about six months old, and Stevens told
+me her name. It was Thérese Adalmi, and her father kept a tobacco shop
+rather near the church of Santa Croce. Some of the family may be living
+there now."</p>
+
+<p>"This is first-rate," said Stuart, getting out his pocket-book and
+jotting down the names. "I've got a clue to work from. Don't you ever
+wish to visit your birthplace?"</p>
+
+<p>"It has been the dream of my life," said Damaris enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity you can't come out with me? Shall we go together? Don't
+look so shocked! It's only convention that forbids us. But we'll wait.
+Perhaps one day—who knows—you and I may find ourselves there!"</p>
+
+<p>When the cab stopped at the boarding-house, Stuart insisted upon
+accompanying her up to the door. Then he wished her good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall be left in peace," he said; "only remember you have promised
+to lunch with my aunt next Monday. You won't see me for a week or so,
+and when I come back, I hope I shall be able to report success."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not really going to Florence?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I start to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't know how to thank you," murmured Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"If I'm unsuccessful, no thanks will be necessary. In any case, I'm
+pleasing myself, and travelling is never an effort to me. Good-bye.
+Will you wish me good luck?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so," said Damaris, looking up at him with troubled eyes. "I
+hardly know what I wish."</p>
+
+<p>He stood for a moment looking down upon her almost tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"I admire your courage, Miss Hartbrook, but my wish for you is that
+you find a safe and sheltered harbour very soon. You don't know how
+roughly the sea can treat a light little unprotected craft like yours!
+Good-bye—or shall we say 'au revoir'?"</p>
+
+<p>He was gone, and Damaris went in. She seemed to have been in a
+different world that afternoon. Quietly she slipped up to her room, for
+she did not want to meet any of her fellow-boarders that night.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next morning she found herself pouring out the whole story to
+gentle Miss Hardacre. She could keep it to herself no longer, and the
+little lady listened with breathless interest.</p>
+
+<p>"It is like a story in a book. My dear child, why did you not tell me
+about it before? I don't think you have acted quite wisely, and I wish
+you had some other person who would help you besides this young man. I
+don't quite like the sound of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you. He rather fascinates me. He is not really so rude as he
+sounds. He has a soft voice, and he is very courteous to women. He
+seems as if he is always looking out for something to do for them. But
+I confess he is trying to manage me now. For my own good, he would say.
+And I'm not so sure of that. Oh, dear Miss Hardacre, I can't tell you
+how I dread another uprooting! I have a presentiment that if I go to
+Marley Hall, I shall have a difficult time."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course your grandfather will offer you a home there, and I shall
+lose you. We have just touched each other's lives, and then we pass
+on!" Miss Hardacre's tone was sad.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean to lose you," said Damaris emphatically; "never! Nor
+Nellie either. And perhaps, after all, my grandfather may be content
+that I should lead my own life. He cannot coerce me. I can be perfectly
+independent, and yet pay him a visit occasionally if he would like to
+see me."</p>
+
+<p>This was the course that Nellie advised when she heard the news.
+Damaris talked the whole matter over with her when she came to see them.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, I look at it from a working point of view. This is a
+strenuous time for our country. Everyone ought to be up and doing. What
+is this Mr. Stuart's profession?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has none; he helps his aunt on her small property and looks after
+two or three farms she has. But he is very gifted; he plays and writes
+and paints, and can turn his hand to anything!"</p>
+
+<p>Nellie tossed her head.</p>
+
+<p>"I know the sort. They just play at farming, and have a jolly easy life
+of it. That kind of man ought to be swept out of existence!"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Nellie!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean it. Every life ought to be full of service for their country
+and its needs. It is an abomination to live a purposeless existence. I
+should like to talk to him. Oh, there's so much that wants doing!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris laughed at her enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Maitland's life is full of service for individuals," she said;
+"that is his 'forte.' He befriends every one he comes across. Mrs.
+Patch told me, when I was staying at Marley that he was kindness itself
+to anyone in trouble, and that all the villagers loved him. You can't
+deal with mankind 'en masse.' And I am leading a comparatively idle
+life, yet you have never scolded me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am wondering when you will wake up," said Nellie, looking at her
+with a friendly smile. "You have plenty of time for thinking over your
+needlework. I hope your thoughts will lead to action sooner or later.
+But it's men I am talking about. Look at my brother! He's going to
+be married soon, and then he'll settle down in idleness somewhere,
+just spending his money on luxuries to keep him comfortable! I think
+there ought to be a law in England that every British citizen should
+contribute something towards the improvement of the State, either by
+his personal brain power and work, or by his property and money."</p>
+
+<p>"What have I to give?" murmured Miss Hardacre.</p>
+
+<p>"You, my little dear, can give your good advice and sound counsel to
+the young and ignorant around you. I think that teaching and educating
+the masses is sound good work. But they don't only want to be taught
+arithmetic and history and geography, and all the ordinary ologies in
+the schools. They want to be made to understand the laws and rights and
+privileges of the British constitution, and of what a unit ought to be.
+Oh, you can laugh at me, you two. But I'm one of the working class,
+remember, and I see what a ferment the whole working class is in,
+from the farm labourer to the bank clerk. Half of them don't know the
+meaning of responsibility and patriotism. Their circle begins and ends
+with self. And they want to be taught. They want to be shown points of
+view from every side, not only from their own. They want to be taught
+political economy—well, I won't go on. I get rather hot when I am on my
+pet subject. If I were a rich woman, I would go round the country as a
+lecturer. I think I would have a motor caravan, and visit the country
+villages as well as the towns."</p>
+
+<p>"Would you be another agitator?" questioned Damaris, who was seeing her
+cousin in a new light, and hardly understood her.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to shut up," said Nellie determinedly. "But when I think
+what opportunities some of these rich idle men are losing, it makes me
+furious!"</p>
+
+<p>"We started from Mr. Maitland, but he is neither rich nor idle," said
+Damaris quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Nellie would say no more until just as she was leaving, and then she
+kissed Damaris affectionately, saying, in Miss Hardacre's words—</p>
+
+<p>"We are going to lose you. Only don't settle down in your luxurious
+life and do nothing. You will be ten times more responsible for your
+opportunities then than you are now."</p>
+
+<p>"Responsible to whom?" asked Damaris. "Do you believe we are
+responsible to God? You always say you are not religious."</p>
+
+<p>"Responsible to your country," said Nellie, hesitating for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"No—responsible to God. I met a Mrs. Dashwood at Marley. I should like
+you to know her. Her gospel is work, but she has no vague ideas about
+our responsibilities. She says we have each our life work, and if we
+miss it, we shall have bitter regret later on. It is strange that you
+and she should meet on one point, for you are not a bit alike in most
+things."</p>
+
+<p>"For that I'm devoutly thankful," said Nellie, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't say that if you saw her. And as regards your losing me, I
+am never going to lose touch with you, if I can help it. Why should I?
+We are relations."</p>
+
+<p>Nellie smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not envious of you. But isn't it strange that fortune favours
+some so much more than others? You and I were both brought up by
+old relatives who led us to expect that we should be well provided
+for at their deaths. We were disappointed, and cheated of our
+expectations—left almost penniless, weren't we? And I am almost
+penniless now—just earning enough to house myself and dress like a
+labourer's daughter. You have fallen on your feet after a very short
+interim of discomfort. Your future will be as comfortable and luxurious
+as your past. Even more so. Well! I am not envious, as I say. I think
+I am better fitted to knock round town than you are. I am not so
+sensitively formed. And I know my environment is more stimulating than
+yours will be."</p>
+
+<p>"You are taking too much for granted," cried Damaris, with a distressed
+look in her grey eyes. "I am not owned yet, and if I ever am, I doubt
+if I shall be welcomed. I daresay I shall soon find myself back in
+London again, from choice. I do not know what will happen to me. But I
+do know that I have you and Miss Hardacre in my heart, and there you
+both shall stay."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child!" murmured Miss Hardacre.</p>
+
+<p>Nellie stopped and kissed them both, and then took her departure.</p>
+
+<p>"I am heartily and sincerely glad about it, Damaris, dear; but we shall
+miss you out of this bit of the world, I can tell you that!"</p>
+
+<p>Those were her parting words, and Damaris said—</p>
+
+<p>"I really do wish that it was you to claim relationship with them, and
+not myself. I am content to be here."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>She went to see Mrs. Bonnycott several times, and then one day they
+received news of Stuart. He wired to his aunt:—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Returning on Tuesday. Book room for me at hotel."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>To Damaris he wrote a letter:—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"DEAR MISS HARTBROOK,—Will you be glad to see me or sorry? For I have
+been successful in my search. Your old nurse is still alive, and helped
+me to discover where you were registered. Enclosed pale pink roses were
+picked by me at the Villa Rosini this morning. It is empty. You will
+have to come out and stay in it one day. I hope you will give me a
+smiling welcome.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Yours most sincerely,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"STUART MAITLAND."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Damaris drew a long breath as she read this. Was she glad or sorry,
+she wondered. Did it mean a complete change of life to her? She was
+glad that she would be vindicated in her aunt's eyes, but would her
+aunt receive her with delight? She shivered in anticipation of their
+meeting. Outwardly she was very quiet and calm, but Miss Hardacre, who
+watched her with loving eyes, saw that the two days of waiting were a
+great strain to her.</p>
+
+<p>Tuesday came and passed. Damaris was glad that Stuart had not rushed
+round to her directly on arrival.</p>
+
+<p>But about half-past ten the next morning, she was told that a gentleman
+had called to see her.</p>
+
+<p>The drawing-room was empty. Miss Hardacre had gone to her room to get
+ready for her daily walk. Stuart was shown up, and Damaris met him with
+a quiet handshake.</p>
+
+<p>She was in a grey cloth gown. He thought he had never seen her look so
+spirituelle and dreamy.</p>
+
+<p>"I do thank you with all my heart for the trouble you have taken," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>"It was no trouble," he said simply. "I felt when I started on the
+quest that I had a fair chance of winning through. I have come round to
+ask you what you intend doing?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at him with a little smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! That is better," she said; "I was afraid you had come round to
+manage me again. Will you tell me what you have done? I suppose you
+have written to Miss Murray."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, at once. And she and Sir Mark are here. They are at the Grosvenor
+Hotel. They want to see you, but I have not given them your address."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked round the shabby room.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no good my seeing them here, there is no privacy. I suppose I
+had better go to them?" There was an appealing note in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, you might come to my aunt's rooms at the Langham, and they
+could meet you there; but I fancy you would find her rather in the way.
+She would naturally be very excited about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather not do that."</p>
+
+<p>"Then let me get a taxi, and we'll drive straight to the Grosvenor. I
+should get it over as soon as possible, if I were you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Damaris slowly, "I will."</p>
+
+<p>The door opened at this juncture, and Miss Hardacre appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Damaris, dear, I am ready-oh, I beg your pardon!" She shrank back, but
+Damaris led her forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hardacre, you know everything; may I introduce Mr. Maitland to
+you. He has come to tell me that Sir Mark Murray and his daughter are
+in town; and I am going to them now."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart gave a little courteous bow.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris turned to him.</p>
+
+<p>"This is one of my greatest friends. I don't think I could have stayed
+here without her. She has been most awfully kind to me."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre's eyes filled with tears. She looked a pathetic little
+figure as she stood there.</p>
+
+<p>But Stuart's whole face softened as he addressed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Then as a friend, you will rejoice in Miss Hartbrook's discovery of
+her relations," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Hardacre, "even though it will take her from us, I am
+sincerely glad for her to have a happy home."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris left the room to dress for the occasion. She felt that now the
+time had come for her to meet her grandfather, the sooner it was over
+the better.</p>
+
+<p>She re-entered the drawing-room in a very few minutes. A grey straw
+hat with a mauve wreath of flowers round it was on her head. As she
+drew her grey gloves on, Stuart thought she was the picture of dainty
+sweetness. She stooped and kissed Miss Hardacre.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall soon be back, and then I'll tell you all about it," she said.
+And then she and Stuart left the house together.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_11">CHAPTER XI</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE FAMILY MEETING</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>BOTH Stuart and Damaris were very silent during the drive to the
+Grosvenor Hotel. When they alighted, Stuart said—</p>
+
+<p>"I'll say good-bye. I won't come in with you. I've done my part. I
+promised Barbara to find you and bring you back to them again, and I've
+done it. And you must forgive my summary way of taking possession of
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Then, seeing that Damaris was white even to her lips, he added, "Of
+course, I'll come in with you if you would rather. Are you nervous?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, it will be best for me to see them alone. It is rather a
+nervous opportunity, isn't it?" She smiled up at him sweetly as she
+spoke. "I am most grateful to you, though I know it's for my aunt's
+sake that you have been so busy on my behalf."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, give me a little credit for wanting to help you, too."</p>
+
+<p>He went off, and Damaris found herself standing in the entrance hall of
+the hotel, feeling more lonely and insignificant and helpless than she
+had ever felt in her life before.</p>
+
+<p>A page-boy took her upstairs to a private drawing-room, and then the
+door opened and she was announced.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark was standing by the window looking down into the street below.
+Barbara was seated at the table writing a letter. She was clad in a
+brown velvet gown. Without her hat she looked more womanly, and the
+sunshine streaming in from the window, rested on her golden head making
+it the brightest spot in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark wheeled round, and, stepping forward, took Damaris by both her
+hands and drew her towards him.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me look at you, my dear," he said in a husky voice. "I have had my
+poor Lilian in my thoughts all this morning. They say you are like her."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara rose from the table.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris first looked at her grandfather, then turned to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you believe in me yet?" she asked. "I have brought you a little of
+my mother's jewellery, which she left me—you will no doubt recognise
+it. And an old servant of my uncles will come and see you if you like,
+and answer any questions about me."</p>
+
+<p>Then, taking out her jewel case from her bag, she laid it upon the
+table and stood beside it a little proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," said Sir Mark, looking at her, "I want no other proof than
+your remarkable likeness to your mother. That is sufficient for me."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not bear me a grudge for my first suspicions, Damaris. I
+have been quite as anxious to find you as my father. And we are very
+grateful to Mr. Maitland for the trouble he has taken for us." She bent
+forward and kissed Damaris suddenly. "There! We must remember we are
+aunt and niece now," she said. "There need be no awkwardness of feeling
+between us."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark looked as if he could not take his eyes off this new
+granddaughter of his.</p>
+
+<p>"I hear you were down in our village for two or three weeks, and never
+made yourself known to us," he said. "I can't understand why you did
+not come up to the Hall at once."</p>
+
+<p>"When I first went down there," explained Damaris quietly, "I did not
+know whether I should find you still living there. I went to find you
+out, and then somehow or other my courage failed me, and I put it off
+from day to day. I am very sorry. I see it was foolish."</p>
+
+<p>"You could have written if you were shy of coming," said her
+grandfather. "I can't think why you did not write before. I had no idea
+of your existence. What made you come down to discover us?"</p>
+
+<p>A pink flush came into Damaris's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to hide anything from you," she said; "I was in trouble.
+I was engaged to be married to my cousin, who came in for my uncles'
+money, and I was obliged to break it off. I could not go on with it.
+I was living in his house, and I had to leave it, and I did not know
+where to go. I suddenly came upon those letters in my mother's desk,
+and it was those which made me come down to Marley."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little silence. Barbara spoke first—</p>
+
+<p>"It does not matter about the past, father. Damaris would like to know
+what she is to do. Do you wish her to return with us at once?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course; of course. What else should she do?"</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Damaris, a little hesitation in her tone; "I don't want
+you to offer me a home because I am your grandchild. I can earn my own
+living. I am sure I can. And I have a cousin who is doing it; and I
+know she would let me live with her if you did not like the idea of my
+living alone. May I tell you my own plans? Our old servant Stevens is
+going to let lodgings in town, and I can be her lodger. I have got work
+from the Art Needlework School—and for the present, at least, I can pay
+my way."</p>
+
+<p>"Absurd!" ejaculated Sir Mark. "I should not be likely to let a
+grandchild of mine fend for herself in London. No; we have room and a
+welcome for you at the Hall; and the sooner you come there, the better.
+We shall be returning to-morrow, and you had better come with us."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara said nothing. Damaris looked in a perplexed fashion up at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't I—would you allow me to follow you—say in a week's time? I
+must see Stevens again, and explain things to her; and I should like to
+see my cousin—"</p>
+
+<p>"Look here!" said Sir Mark a little irritably. "We don't want to hear
+anything about your connections on the Hartbrook side. When you come to
+us, you must forget them."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's head was raised at once.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not ashamed of my father's relations, nor would you be, if you
+were to meet them. I couldn't give up my friendship with Nellie. Though
+I have not known her very long, I would not do it on principle. If I
+come to you, I could not be in bondage—I must be free to keep my own
+friends if I wish."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark stared at her, and Barbara surprised them both by a hearty
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"For goodness sake, father, don't let us have a repetition of the old
+times. You always sound a good deal more autocratic than you are.
+Damaris is a modern girl; she will expect the same liberty that I have.
+Why shouldn't she keep in touch with her cousin? As long as she is a
+quiet respectable girl, there can be no harm in her."</p>
+
+<p>"You will find I am kept in very good order by your aunt, little girl.
+What's your name? Damaris, isn't it? Well—we won't begin to quarrel the
+first day of our acquaintance. Come and give your grandfather a kiss,
+and tell him that you like the look of him."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris went up promptly and kissed him. "Indeed, I do like the look of
+you very much," she assured him, with her pretty smile. "And I think it
+is very kind and good of you to give me a home at once. But will you
+give me a week longer in town to make my arrangements for coming to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we, Barbara?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, father. She can come to us any day next week."</p>
+
+<p>And so it was settled.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt as if she were in a dream. She could hardly realise that
+her whole life was going to be changed so soon. But she accepted her
+grandfather's invitation to lunch, and chatted to him quite pleasantly
+throughout the meal.</p>
+
+<p>Barbara was rather silent; but Damaris felt that she had no opposition
+or dislike to be met with from her.</p>
+
+<p>She left them at three o'clock. Her grandfather put her into a taxi
+himself, and surprised her by putting a little packet of pound notes
+into her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"That is to meet any expenses you may have before you come to us—I
+won't say to buy yourself a frock, for you could not wear a prettier
+get-up than you are doing at present. God bless you, child; and come to
+us prepared to be happy. Barbara and I are quiet country folk, but we
+understand each other and live at peace."</p>
+
+<p>Sudden tears came to Damaris's eyes. From that moment, she felt that
+she loved her grandfather, and would do her best to please him.</p>
+
+<p>He went back and sat down in his sitting-room with a little sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"It brings the old times back. What do you think of her, Barbara? A
+pretty little girl, eh? And oh, so like her mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," assented Barbara, "she is very like Lilian as I remember her;
+but if she has her hot pride and temper, I beseech you, father dear,
+not to provoke it by too much severity."</p>
+
+<p>"Am I severe? God knows I do not want to be. You're a good girl,
+Barbara—they say you've the most unruffled temper going; but all young
+people are not like you—and this child is pretty, and seems to have
+had a love affair already. I don't want a lot of those city young
+men—relations of her father's—down in our parts."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think there will be any fear of that. Let us wait and see. We
+can deal with things as they come. Now I'm going to leave you to have
+an afternoon nap—you know what your doctor told you yesterday about
+overdoing it—and you can meet me at The Langham for tea. Mrs. Bonnycott
+expects us."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—yes; we must thank Stuart for that run out to Florence. It was
+most satisfactory getting at that register. I hope that child will be
+all right by herself. She's in a respectable place, you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"So Stuart assures me. Of course she will be all right. You must give
+her breathing time to say good-bye to her friends. She strikes me as
+having a very capable head upon her shoulders."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara left him. Later in the afternoon, she was sitting with Mrs.
+Bonnycott and telling her the news. Stuart came in as his aunt was
+expressing her astonishment and delight. She was quite excited over it.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew there was good blood in her—could see it. I've been making up
+my mind to ask her to come to me as a companion. I did not like to
+think of her alone in London. Stuart, what do you mean by keeping me in
+the dark about it? What a sensation in our part of the world! I wish I
+could discover some niece or great-niece in the same easy way."</p>
+
+<p>"How did the interview go off?" Stuart asked Barbara.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"We were very quiet and calm; there was no demonstration of feeling—but
+you could not expect that. Father is the one who was most pleased. She
+has bargained for a week more of her independence."</p>
+
+<p>"She is not rushing at you," said Stuart. "I wonder how she will shake
+down? I can't quite see you yet. You have your pursuits, your father
+has his, and you're both complete in yourselves. Where will she come
+in?"</p>
+
+<p>"She'll find a niche for herself, and have her own hobbies," said
+Barbara. "I'm not afraid of the venture."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't chum up with very young girls," said Stuart doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be good to her, I promise you. Do you take a great interest in
+her, Stuart?" Barbara put the question carelessly, but Stuart wheeled
+round and looked out of the window. Somehow Barbara felt that she had
+vexed him. She touched his coat sleeve. "Don't be huffy. You haven't
+had your proper thanks yet for finding her and for rushing off to
+Florence; you are a friend in need."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't expect thanks or want them." Then he turned round with his
+sunniest smile. "Come out with me, Barbara; we'll go and hear some good
+music. There's a concert on at the Albert Hall this evening. Shall I
+take tickets?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father will be here directly. We are having tea with your aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Bonnycott, "and I'm so knocked flat by your news that
+I hardly know what to say. I did not know your sister Lilian had a
+child. I remember her, and now see who this girl is like. She's the
+living image of her mother."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing would turn Mrs. Bonnycott's thoughts off Damaris, and when Sir
+Mark appeared, it all began again. He was quite content to sit and
+talk about his new granddaughter. But after a time, Barbara and Stuart
+slipped away together, leaving the two old people to entertain each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris went back and gave an account of her grandfather and aunt to
+Miss Hardacre, who was deeply interested in hearing about it all.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't bear leaving you, Miss Hardacre," said Damaris; "you have been
+such a friend to me that I won't drift away from you. What should I
+have done in this house without you? I can't make friends with any of
+the others. They don't like me."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't like them, do you? But I will confess that the young people
+are not your sort, and the old ones—well; it is a marvel that you have
+been happy sitting alone with me day after day! I am glad for your sake
+that you will be with your own people now. And if ever you do come up
+to town, it will be a real joy to me if you can spare time to come and
+see me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Damaris. "I still dread the tremendous change it will be in
+my life! Both my grandfather and aunt are strangers to me. I wonder if
+we shall get on together?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think they would be hard to please, if they did not get on
+with you," said Miss Hardacre fondly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're an old dear!" Damaris exclaimed. Then she added suddenly,
+"I have just thought of a lovely plan! Miss Hardacre, you must come
+down and lodge at the Patch's. You would love it. You would smell hot
+bread all day! I never got tired of the smell. It always made me feel
+hungry! And, oh, how you would love the glorious breezy bracing common!
+And the dear little country church, and sweet old saintly Mrs. Patch,
+and darling Mrs. Dashwood."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre began to laugh, but Damaris rebuked her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm in real sober earnest, and I shall come and see you, and feel I've
+rescued you from the London fogs and this dingy old house. Oh, do think
+of it! You always told me you loved the country, and here's a delicious
+country village and nice rooms all waiting for you."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds delightful, dear, but it would not be wise to tack myself
+on to you at this juncture. You must go alone, and make a place for
+yourself in your grandfather's house. Perhaps next summer, if I am
+still alive, we might think about those lodgings. It will be a great
+pleasure to me, and will be something to look forward to."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Damaris, with a little sigh, "we will wait, then. But if I
+can't come and visit my friends, I can bring them to Marley, and that
+will be lovely for me!"</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The week passed too quickly. One of the first things that Damaris did
+was to recover her mother's escritoire. Stevens had found a house and
+was moving into it. She was much disappointed that she would not have
+her young mistress as a lodger, but was partly consoled by the thoughts
+of her mother's home being open to her, and by the care of the precious
+escritoire which Damaris insisted upon placing in her charge.</p>
+
+<p>"If I can send for it, I will, Stevens; but for the present, I know it
+will be safe with you."</p>
+
+<p>"If it wasn't for my cousin, I'd like to throw over the house and come
+off with you as maid."</p>
+
+<p>"But I shan't have a maid," said Damaris. "My aunt may have one, and
+perhaps I shall share her, but I don't think I shall have one all
+to myself. My grandfather and aunt lead a very simple country life,
+Stevens. They are not smart fashionable people."</p>
+
+<p>"Then if you come up to town, Miss Damaris, you'll come to us instead
+of going to an hotel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I'll try to do that," promised Damaris, and Stevens was content.</p>
+
+<p>Nellie came over one Saturday, and, on the strength of her
+grandfather's present, Damaris took her and Miss Hardacre down to Kew
+Gardens for the day. They drove down in a motor, which was a piece of
+extravagance, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves amongst the glories of
+autumn tints and autumn flowers.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>One day, she lunched with Mrs. Bonnycott. She was still very excited
+over Damaris's connection with the Murrays, and made her tell her every
+detail of her past life.</p>
+
+<p>"I always took to you from the first minute I set eyes on you. And
+remember if Barbara is not nice to you, or Sir Mark gets into one of
+his irritable fits of impatience and depression, come straight off to
+me, and we'll laugh at life's difficulties together. I find that's much
+the best way to preserve one's calm and cheerfulness."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," Damaris said, smiling; "but I am not going to anticipate
+any difficulties."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart did not come in till after lunch. He looked tired, but was as
+cheerful as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope we're fast friends," he said to Damaris, "and that you will
+never have cause for bearing me a grudge for bringing you and your
+people together. You see, I take full credit to myself for that. It has
+turned out well, hasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know yet," said Damaris, looking at him with an amused gleam
+in her grey eyes. "It is rather early to judge!"</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't bothered you with my presence since—for I have done my part,
+and knew you would prefer to be left alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I have had a good deal to do and think of. In a way, I am glad
+that everybody won't be strange to me in Marley. I have friends there,
+and it seems like going home."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm one of the friends, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you are, and Mrs. Bonnycott is another; and I just love the
+common. I have missed it more than I can say."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad I come first in the list," said Stuart. "I'm not jealous of
+my aunt, nor of the common either, for that matter. We all belong to
+each other."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Stuart," said Mrs. Bonnycott hastily, "there is no need to
+mention the word jealousy. It's a vice I abhor. You may be sure I shall
+never come in the way between any young couple—least of all you, for
+whom I do entertain some affection, in spite of our constant quarrels."</p>
+
+<p>To this astonishing speech, her nephew made no reply, only looked at
+Damaris with mischief in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She began hastily to talk about her friends whom she was leaving
+behind, and very soon Mrs. Bonnycott was promising to recommend
+Stevens's apartments to all her friends.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart was very busy in town, for he was going down to Marley with his
+aunt the next day, and he had a lot of business to finish before he
+went.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall say 'au revoir,'" he said to Damaris, when they parted. "I
+always look upon the Hall as my second home, so you will see me again
+very soon. It is a pity we can't all travel down together to-morrow.
+When do you come?"</p>
+
+<p>"Next Wednesday," said Damaris quietly. "I must have till then to
+myself."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>She tried not to dread her departure from town, but when Wednesday
+came, she said good-bye to Miss Hardacre with tearful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I little thought when I came here how sorry I should be to leave. Do
+write to me, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed I will," said Miss Hardacre. "My days will be very dreary
+without you. Somehow or other you have brightened my life enormously."</p>
+
+<p>In the train, Damaris tried to fix her mind on her meeting with Mrs.
+Dashwood and old Mrs. Patch again. She grew more and more nervous as
+she thought of the new life in front of her.</p>
+
+<p>The Hall brougham was at the station to meet her. In a very short time,
+she and her luggage were conveyed to the Hall. She arrived there at the
+close of a sunny autumn afternoon. The old grey house was covered with
+red virginian creeper and climbing roses. The borders on either side of
+the drive up to it were bright with golden chrysanthemums and dahlias
+of every shade and hue.</p>
+
+<p>It was a big comfortably furnished hall into which she walked. A small
+log fire was burning in the open fireplace, and a beautiful greyhound
+lay stretched out on a rug in front of it.</p>
+
+<p>A little fox terrier started out from a dark corner barking at her, but
+Damaris was fond of dogs; she put her hand on his head and quieted him
+in an instant.</p>
+
+<p>Symon, the old butler, glanced at her as she did so. He was too well
+trained a servant to speak, but he told the housekeeper afterwards that
+Miss Hartbrook was one of the right sort—"afeared of nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>If he had only known how Damaris's heart was beating at that moment, he
+would have qualified his statement.</p>
+
+<p>He was leading her into the drawing-room, when Barbara appeared upon
+the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have tea in my boudoir, Symon, the Squire won't be home till
+late. Well, Damaris, here you are. Have you had a comfortable journey?"</p>
+
+<p>She was in the Hall shaking hands with Damaris. Barbara was a very
+undemonstrative person, and shed her kisses on no one—not even her
+father.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris replied politely, and then they went into the charming little
+room furnished in dark oak and blue velvet. The walls were panelled,
+but relieved by some lovely water-colour sketches. Damaris sat down in
+silence by the fire, and Barbara stood for a moment in silence, too,
+thoughtfully regarding her.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my sanctum," she said, "but you will be welcome to it. I
+live here amongst my books, and I write a few necessary letters, and
+do a few necessary accounts. But for the most part of my days, I live
+out-of-doors. Do you ride?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Damaris. "I have had no chance to learn."</p>
+
+<p>"Father and I hunt two days every week in the season—not more. You'll
+have to find your own occupations and follow them, independently of me.
+My motto is 'Live and let live.' I was too ruled up in my young days to
+be ever desirous of ruling others. So you'll be as free as air here.
+You look as if you've been well disciplined. Have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Barbara was talking away to put her at ease, and Damaris knew it and
+was grateful to her.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at her now with one of her charming smiles.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, indeed I have. I have been in a comfortable well-ordered kind
+of prison since I left school, and treated as if my brains were on a
+par with the animals'." Then she pulled herself up. "I don't want to
+say a word against my uncles. They were good and kind to me, but they
+thought a woman ought to be content with so very little—just a needle
+and a duster and a walk out to see the shops. That would make life
+quite full enough for her. I am fond of needlework, I confess—I think
+it has grown to be part of me; but I love the country and out-of-doors.
+I hope I shan't be a worry to you; I don't mean to be. And oh, Aunt
+Barbara, just say that you don't hate my coming here."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had risen from her seat, the quick colour coming and going in
+her cheeks, and tears springing to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Barbara looked at her in surprise. Then she laid a hand on her
+shoulder, and there was tenderness in her touch.</p>
+
+<p>"I see you have not forgiven me yet. My dear, I'm very glad to see you
+here. I adored your mother, and would like you for her sake if for no
+other. Don't let us have any misunderstandings about each other. I
+don't wear my heart on my sleeve; but if you aren't happy with us, it
+will be your own fault."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I will be! I mean to be! Thank you, Aunt Barbara. I couldn't help
+feeling frightened at coming here. It is all so strange to me."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was ashamed at her show of feeling, but Barbara liked her the
+better for it.</p>
+
+<p>"I was disciplined, too, when I was very young," she said thoughtfully,
+"but a few years of perfect freedom have helped me to strike the right
+balance, I hope. You will find your grandfather a little irritable on
+the surface, and he will sound more severe than he really is; but he
+has not been at all strong lately, so we have to give in to him."</p>
+
+<p>Tea was brought in at this juncture, so all confidential talk for the
+time was stopped.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_12">CHAPTER XII</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>LIFTING THE LATCH</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>THAT first evening at the Hall seemed to Damaris like a dream. But
+her nervousness and dread disappeared. She realised that her aunt was
+neither antagonistic nor indifferent to her, only undemonstrative, and
+this put her at ease.</p>
+
+<p>When tea was over, she was shown her bed-room. It faced west, and as
+she stood at the big window which reached down to the ground, she found
+that she faced the common. Away on the horizon, gilding and glorifying
+the stretches of sloping turf and brightening the rose-red tints of the
+dying hawthorns, the sun was slowing sinking to his rest. Damaris gazed
+out in silence, then she turned with a radiant face to her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said, in a low voice, "I shall be happy here."</p>
+
+<p>And then she was shown a little room which led out of the big one, and
+which was fitted up as a boudoir. The fresh chintzes and delicate china
+ornaments, the books in the bookcase, and the big writing-table in the
+window, the couch and big easy chair by the fire; all seemed the height
+of luxury after her experiences in her dingy boarding-house.</p>
+
+<p>"You have given me two beautiful rooms," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"They were your mother's," Barbara said simply; "and many of her
+treasures are still in them."</p>
+
+<p>For the moment Damaris felt almost overcome. She gazed about her with
+misty eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I had known her. I wish she had lived long enough to give me
+some memory of herself."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara made no reply. After a little, she said—</p>
+
+<p>"Now make yourself comfortable. Evans, my maid, will unpack for you.
+We dine at eight; and if you don't find me downstairs when you come, I
+shall most likely be out. I generally take the dogs for a run between
+tea and dinner. But find your way into the library. We sit there in the
+evenings, not in the drawing-room."</p>
+
+<p>She left her, and Damaris, pulling a chair to the window, sat down and
+watched the sunset in dreamy content. It seemed so still and quiet in
+the big house. So far, far away from the noise and bustle of town. Some
+lovely Gloire de Dijon roses made a framework to her window outside,
+and their sweet scent filled her room. She gathered one, and wondered
+if she might send a few in a box to Miss Hardacre.</p>
+
+<p>"What a lot of pleasure I may be able to give her," she thought. And
+then one of the old questions in her mind cropped up again. "Why should
+some people have so much, and others have so little?"</p>
+
+<p>She did not go downstairs till just before eight, and then, in the big
+handsome library, she found her grandfather talking to two other men.
+One of them she recognised as having seen in church,—Mr. Gore,—the
+other was a tall pleasant-faced man who was introduced to her as Lord
+Ennismore.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark looked pleased to see her.</p>
+
+<p>"A little granddaughter who is going to make her home with us," he said
+to Mr. Gore, who promptly replied—</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—yes; we have heard all about her. Mrs. Bonnycott was having tea
+with my sisters yesterday, and told us the news."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara joined them then. She was in a soft green velvet gown, with a
+string of old pearls round her neck, and some priceless lace about her
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris, in a simple white lace gown, felt shabby beside her. She was
+taken in to dinner by Mr. Gore, who discoursed to her in a learned way
+about the habits of caterpillars. One taste they found they had in
+common, and that was a love for the country and open spaces. Presently
+the talk began to be general, and Stuart's name was mentioned. Lord
+Ennismore seemed to know him well. Damaris heard afterwards that
+they had been at school together, and had fought side by side in the
+trenches out in France.</p>
+
+<p>"He's wasting his life," said Lord Ennismore. "I always tell him so.
+Anyone could look after Mrs. Bonnycott's small property."</p>
+
+<p>"You're so strenuous," said Barbara. "You take life so heavily and
+seriously. I tell Stuart that he lives to make people happy. That isn't
+waste of life if you accomplish it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, happiness!" said Mr. Gore a little impatiently. "I get sick of
+the talk of happiness. It is only one of the many moods that come and
+go like the shadows on the wall. We weren't sent into the world to be
+happy."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe in the contrary," said Barbara decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Stuart ought to take up politics. He would have been very good in the
+Diplomatic Service," said Lord Ennismore.</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't much pleasure in that now," said Sir Mark. "In this time
+of chaos, politics certainly have lost all glamour."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he ought to do something towards bolstering up his country now,"
+said Lord Ennismore again. "I have several schemes on hand, and if only
+he would throw up his present job, he could help me enormously. You
+know I'm selling my Nottinghamshire estate, Squire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I heard it. Hard times, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly; I'm looking ahead, and I'm coming to the conclusion that
+we land owners don't want more than one property, and that must be the
+one on which we live. And the sale will help me to carry out one of my
+schemes."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara looked at him and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the ninety-ninth scheme?" she asked. "I've seen a good few of
+yours die almost at their birth."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I'll allow I've a bigger brain for conceiving than for
+carrying out; but that's where I want a practical man like Maitland."</p>
+
+<p>The talk drifted away to other subjects; but when Damaris was alone
+with Barbara after dinner she said—</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know Mr. Maitland had been to the war. He never mentions it."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Barbara, "I think he went through too much out there. Some
+men are strung harder than others. Stuart feels too deeply; artistic
+natures do, they say. He was wounded badly in the first year, and
+he's never been very robust since. That was why he settled down at
+Fallerton."</p>
+
+<p>"Has he no relations except Mrs. Bonnycott?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; his parents died when he was small; and he was the only child.
+He's hardly the lazy man that Lord Ennismore considers him. But he's
+one of those people who pose as a loafer and in reality do more work in
+one day than others do in a week."</p>
+
+<p>"I like Lord Ennismore's face," said Damaris quietly. "He seems as if
+he is looking ahead at something great, and is meaning to go for it."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara looked at her with a short laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you like Mrs. Patch, a 'student of human natur''?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris coloured a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help getting interested in people I meet," she said; "I always
+wonder what they're like inside."</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Ennismore has had a very sad life," said Barbara; "he was devoted
+to his wife, and she was killed out hunting. And then his only son and
+heir was drowned when he was a boy of sixteen at school. He has two
+girls who are rather a handful. They have a succession of governesses,
+and he is worried to death with their complaints. He is making up his
+mind to try another school for the girls. They ran away from one."</p>
+
+<p>"How old are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifteen, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a pity he doesn't marry again."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara did not reply.</p>
+
+<p>When the men joined them, both Lord Ennismore and Mr. Gore attached
+themselves to her, and Damaris turned her attention to her grandfather.
+She was accustomed to old men, and was at ease with him at once. He
+told Barbara afterwards that she was a singularly intelligent girl. And
+when, eventually, Damaris laid her head on her pillow in her luxurious
+bed-room, she settled herself to sleep in perfect content with her
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>The event which she had so much dreaded had passed with great
+simplicity. She had slipped into her mother's family as a matter of
+course, and if no demonstration of excessive affection had been shown
+her, she had been welcomed with sincere pleasure.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next morning was wet. Damaris sat in her own little boudoir and
+wrote long letters to Miss Hardacre and Nellie.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon, when it had cleared, she walked over to a farm about
+two miles off with her grandfather. Both he and Barbara were very fond
+of out-door exercise, and walked as well as rode. Damaris enjoyed every
+bit of the walk. Sir Mark told her a good deal about the property, and
+talked about his sons to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert will be in my shoes before very long. I shan't make old bones,
+my doctor tells me. But he'll run the place all right. He's on a small
+property of his wife's up North at present. She's north country by
+birth—a good-looking woman, but not my sort—nor Barbara's either.
+They're coming down to spend Christmas with us this year, so you'll see
+them. Ella is a good mother, but she's an affected little puss, with
+many fads. They've two nice boys and a tiny girl. It doesn't do to look
+on ahead; and now I've two of you to think about instead of one. But
+you'll marry—and so will Barbara; she won't leave me—I think that's
+half the trouble. If you do want a home, either of you, when I'm gone,
+there's Park Corner, the Dower House—quite a decent little house. But
+I hope I may see you with future homes of your own. Ennismore wants
+Barbara badly, but she seems hanging back; I don't know why. They've
+always been good friends—" He paused.</p>
+
+<p>"There, child, my tongue has run away with me. Don't tell Barbara I've
+been gossiping about her affairs. But it's always a hard time when the
+women of the house have to turn out to make room for the son's wife. I
+can remember how my mother felt it—even to this day!"</p>
+
+<p>"You mustn't talk of those times," said Damaris cheerfully; "you will
+be with us for many years yet, I hope."</p>
+
+<p>She began asking him questions about the farm they were going to,
+and Sir Mark, with a little relief in his tone, answered them. They
+returned home mutually pleased with each other, and it was the
+beginning of many talks and walks together.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Upon the following morning, Damaris went to see old Mrs. Patch. She
+chose the day on which she knew the younger Mrs. Patch would be away
+at the market in the town, for she did not feel inclined to hear her
+comments on her connection with the Hall.</p>
+
+<p>The old woman received her with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Barbara has been in and told me all. You're Miss Lilian's child,
+eh, dear? I never thought it could be, and yet I kept seein' her again
+as you looked and talked to me."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris took her hand in hers.</p>
+
+<p>"You must tell me all you can about my mother. I love to hear about
+her. And talk to me for my good, Mrs. Patch. I have missed you so much.
+I have a great friend in London; she is little and weak and old, and
+has no hope at all in life. I long that you and she could meet, for
+I know you would do her a lot of good. How would you cheer her? What
+would you tell her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Weak and old and hopeless," said the old woman thoughtfully. "I would
+mind her of the promise. 'My strength is made perfect in weakness,'
+and 'Even to your old age I am He, and even to hoar hairs will I carry
+you,' and 'Happy is he whose hope is in the Lord his God.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You always go to the Bible for comfort, I notice," said Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Not always," said Mrs. Patch, with a slow smile. "I go straight to my
+Lord Himself—which is surely best." Then she looked over her spectacles
+at Damaris's bright face. "How about your burden, miss?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked grave.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm beginning to feel I'm a failure, Mrs. Patch—in God's eyes I must
+be. I've done nothing for Him all my life. That's a bad record, isn't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to love and serve Him?"</p>
+
+<p>"If it's not too difficult, I should like to," said Damaris softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, dearie, we don't mind difficulties in our daily life. It's
+difficult to blacklead a stove, or make a pudding, or knit a stocking
+the first time one puts one's hand to it; but we don't give up the
+trying because of the difficulty. It ought not to be difficult to run
+right into the arms of love held out to us. Nor yet to hand our burden
+over to the Burden-Bearer of the world."</p>
+
+<p>"You make religion such a real personal matter, Mrs. Patch, and so does
+Mrs. Dashwood. I suppose it is because you live so near to God?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear miss, He lives so close to us. That's the comfort of it."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked thoughtfully away through the small casement window by
+the old woman's bed. It was such a tiny room, and yet the poor soul
+confined in it had such a tremendously big outlook on life and beyond
+it.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't spend your years waiting," the old woman said wistfully. "So
+many of us mean to turn to God one day; but we won't make up our minds
+when, and drift on and on. It won't get easier if you wait."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris turned and looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to have been a man, and a preacher, Mrs. Patch."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I lie here and think, and it fair makes me long to take hold of
+you young people and press you into the Kingdom. 'Tis like looking in
+at a fair garden over the wall, and keeping outside because you don't
+choose to lift the latch and walk in."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish I could lift the latch, Mrs. Patch. Tell me how to do it."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's soul was stirred within her. She had thought a great deal
+lately about these matters. The patient hopelessness of Miss Hardacre's
+outlook had shocked and appalled her. Yet she felt that she had no
+certain hope and assurance herself, and increasingly she had begun to
+long for it.</p>
+
+<p>The old woman raised herself up in bed; taking off her spectacles, she
+said solemnly—</p>
+
+<p>"'I am the door: by Me, if any man enter in, he shall be saved.' Can't
+you just kneel down on the quiet, miss, and lift the latch, and walk
+in? He says, 'Come unto me,'—and we're just to say, 'I come.'"</p>
+
+<p>There was silence. Damaris almost heard her heart beat. The old sweet
+familiar words had a new meaning.</p>
+
+<p>Then old Mrs. Patch spoke again, but she seemed to be speaking to
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>"We are so proud and stubborn, we won't bend the knee, and the latch
+can only be lifted on our knees. 'Tis too low for the high and mighty;
+that's why the little children find it so easy. And our burden rolls
+off at that door."</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Damaris that she was already at that Door, and her hand
+was upon the latch.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long time before she broke the silence that followed, and when
+she did, it was to talk about her mother. She told Mrs. Patch of the
+letters in her mother's desk, and then she told her of what she had
+told no one else—that in a corner of the desk she had found half a leaf
+of what evidently had been her mother's diary.</p>
+
+<p>"It broke off in the middle, as if she had been going to write more
+and had been interrupted, and I know the words by heart. They seem so
+pathetic. Perhaps they were the last words she ever wrote:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'I feel depressed to-day; now that my time has almost come, I am
+wondering—wondering—I wish I had been as good a daughter to my father,
+as I feel I have been a wife to my dear husband. As motherhood draws
+near, it makes me think seriously of life and death. I have prayed as I
+have never prayed before for my little one—for myself. May God forgive
+me for many heedless years. I shall try to make my baby better than its
+mother—'<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"It breaks off there."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Miss Lilian," said Mrs. Patch tenderly. "She always found it hard
+as a child to own herself in the wrong. Many's the time she's bent her
+knees at my lap when she was saying her prayers: 'I'm not "quite" sorry
+enough to speak to God yet, Nannie,' she would say to me, lifting her
+big grey eyes up to my face."</p>
+
+<p>She lapsed into reminiscences of the children she had mothered in the
+old nurseries at the Hall, and Damaris listened entranced, till it was
+time to leave the cottage and go home.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>But that night, in the quiet and stillness of her own room, Damaris
+bent her knees and lifted the latch. The whispered words were not many;
+they meant a surrendered heart and life:</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"O Lord Jesus Christ, I come to confess my sins, to ask Thee to take
+them from me, to make me Thine altogether for ever and ever.—Amen."<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>And a wonderful rest and peace crept into her soul, as she believed she
+had been heard and accepted.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>She had always been a thoughtful girl; but, owing to unfortunate
+circumstances, her confirmation had not been the help to her that it
+should. She had been prepared for it by a very old clergyman whom
+the girls at her school had all disliked. He had little sympathy or
+understanding with the young, and the bishop who confirmed them was on
+the verge of a breakdown, and was obliged in consequence to shorten his
+sermon on that occasion. It had not been a happy service.</p>
+
+<p>Looking back at it, Damaris was only conscious of great nervousness
+and distraction of mind. Her long quiet times with her needlework in
+that upper room of her uncles' house had made her ponder over many
+things; but she had never come in contact with anyone except old Mrs.
+Patch and the rector's wife who seemed to live out their religion
+in real joyousness of spirit. Perhaps her fondness from a child for
+the "Pilgrim's Progress" had helped her more than she thought in
+apprehending spiritual things; and the hopelessness of Miss Hardacre's
+faith had clenched her determination to seek for herself, and find
+out whether there was any real comfort and joy to be obtained in true
+religion.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>It was a new day that dawned upon her when she woke the next morning.
+She went about with shining eyes, and a smile upon her lips which even
+attracted the notice of unobservant Barbara.</p>
+
+<p>She thought it was content with her new position. But Damaris's
+thoughts were away from her new home altogether. She spent the first
+part of her morning in writing another long letter to Miss Hardacre, in
+which she poured out her experiences of the previous day.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre read the letter through with pleasure, but with a little
+bewilderment. It did not then bring light to her. She considered it a
+burst of girlish impulse and enthusiasm. Her weary soul and dim eyes
+could neither see nor understand the wonderful simplicity of God's
+revelation to Damaris. But she wrote back a loving little letter of
+appreciation for the confidence given to her, and with that Damaris for
+the time was forced to be content.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood was away from home with her little boy, who was only
+just recovering from a severe attack of measles. Damaris missed her
+very much. The village of Marley seemed empty without her. But there
+was always a good deal of coming and going at the Hall. Sir Mark was
+hospitably inclined. His son Walter in town often brought a couple
+of his friends for a weekend; and when the hunting began, there were
+always visitors staying in the house.</p>
+
+<p>Most of Barbara's friends were men; women guests were few and far
+between. But Damaris was accustomed to men's society, and pleased her
+aunt by her frank simple manner in speaking to them. She did not court
+their admiration or homage. If anything, she kept too much in the
+background, and apparently preferred the older men to the younger ones.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart was, perhaps, an exception, but he was very busy at this time,
+and had only come over once since Damaris's arrival.</p>
+
+<p>"You've dropped into it all most wonderfully," he said to her upon that
+occasion.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You talk as if I should be out of my element," she said. "I assure
+you, I do not find anything unusual in my surroundings; a little more
+luxurious—that is all. The people I meet are very friendly, and do not
+seem different to those I met at my uncles'."</p>
+
+<p>"That is putting a nasty construction on my words. You and your aunt
+get on so easily together. I did not think you would."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? I admire her very much. We each go our own way. I don't think
+I should ever be a companion to her; but I didn't expect to be that.
+She has told me that she does not care for young girls. But she is very
+good to me."</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"Barbara is very sincere and true—she has no petty failings."</p>
+
+<p>"No," Damaris rejoined quickly; "she is very broad-minded and tolerant.
+I see that in the way she looks after the servants and the tenants. If
+she's sometimes hard, she's always just. In a way, I would rather be
+judged by her than by my grandfather." Then she gave a little laugh. "I
+don't know why I am discussing them with you like this."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm one of the family," said Stuart lightly. "I always consider
+they belong to me, and I to them. I adopted Barbara as a sister when I
+was five."</p>
+
+<p>Then he looked at her with his whimsical smile. "I can't adopt you as
+a niece, somehow. I think it is that at present you are too remote and
+elusive. When I get a little bit close to you, I am warned off as a
+trespasser. You don't quite trust me yet."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at him thoughtfully with her steadfast grey eyes. Then
+she turned away without a word.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A BIG SCHEME</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>IT was a gusty October afternoon. The wind was whirling yellow-brown
+leaves along the roads, shrieking through the half-clad trees, and
+howling down the old chimneys at the Hall. Sir Mark had gone up to
+town for a few days. Damaris had been taking a walk over the common
+in company with Rolf the greyhound and David the terrier. David had
+obtained his name by his fondness, from a puppy, of attacking dogs six
+times his size, and Damaris had many anxious moments when strange big
+dogs encountered them in their walks. She had staved off one fight upon
+this afternoon, and it had brought her into the house in a dishevelled
+breathless state.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart and Barbara were standing over the hall fire as she entered.
+Barbara looked grave and did not notice Damaris's entrance, but Stuart
+exclaimed at once—</p>
+
+<p>"Who has been chasing you?"</p>
+
+<p>"The wind," said Damaris rosy with her exertions. "But David is furious
+with me because I've hooked my stick into his collar and dragged him
+home by force. He tried to fight Farmer Sampson's dog."</p>
+
+<p>David crawled slowly towards the fire, his tail between his legs, but
+he rolled one eye round at Damaris in such a sulky disgusted fashion
+that even Barbara smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I always let them fight," she said. "It's no good postponing the day."
+Then she added, "We're having tea in my sanctum, Damaris."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris ran upstairs to make herself tidy. When she came down, she
+found Stuart and Barbara still talking earnestly together. They were
+discussing Gregory Lancaster, the son of the family doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you interfere?" Barbara was saying. "The father won't thank
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"No; and perhaps the son won't either; but the poor beggar wants a
+chance. How long is it? Eight years, isn't it, that he has been trying
+to pass his exams, and not managed to pass out yet. He hates the
+profession, and will never do any good at it. And he's going down-hill
+fast. He as good as told me so. He's like some of these country-born
+fellows—hates town, and instead of working to get out of it, sinks
+without an effort."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know your aunt will have him?"</p>
+
+<p>Stuart laughed lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"She always comes round; answers like a thoroughbred to the rein after
+she's plunged a bit. She's plunging now, and that's why I've asked
+myself to dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"I would like her to hear you talk."</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you she does."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara changed the subject.</p>
+
+<p>But Stuart was restive till tea was over; then, when it was taken away
+and they were alone, he said—</p>
+
+<p>"I have come over chock-full of news; you must let me tell you it all.
+Ennismore and I sat up till the small hours last night threshing it
+out."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was going to slip away.</p>
+
+<p>"I want you to hear too," he said; "don't go."</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated, and looked at Barbara.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Damaris, I have no desire for a tête-à-tête conversation. Now
+then, for your wonderful scheme, Stuart!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's Ennismore's—but it gives me the chance of doing good work as well
+as Gregory. You know he's sold his other estate. Well, he's going to
+put the price of it into a model village for disabled soldiers. And I'm
+to be architect, head foreman, general manager, and perhaps practical
+builder."</p>
+
+<p>"Jack-of-all-trades, as usual."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't chaff, because it's a big thing. He's going to pitch it on the
+top of that rising hill by the Long Burrow coverts—just two miles from
+Darleywater."</p>
+
+<p>"He told me he had such an idea; but I did not think he would put it
+into action so soon."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, when Ennismore and I get together, we're pretty rapid. I'm going
+to plan it out. You see, we can run the water out of the town to it, so
+there'll be no boring for wells. And the idea is to give the chaps a
+chance of living outside a town, and working in it."</p>
+
+<p>"How will disabled soldiers—say legless ones—be able to do the four
+miles a day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, they'll have their automatic tricycles, and the others their
+cycles, and some will prefer the walk. And they're all going to have
+a small plot of ground sufficient for poultry or fruit growing, and
+Ennismore is going to start them each with fruit trees, a dozen
+poultry, or a pig, just as they prefer. But one of our plans is that
+they should all help to build their own houses, so that employment will
+begin at once for them."</p>
+
+<p>"But if they don't understand the trade?"</p>
+
+<p>"They can learn. Of course, we shall have a few skilled workmen to
+help. You know, the Tommies have had a bit of experience out in the
+trenches—I've seen first-class dug-outs built by amateurs; and those
+who haven't an aptitude for bricks and mortar can carpenter, and those
+who can't carpenter can be getting the ground ready for cultivation.
+They'll work with such zest if they know it's for themselves."</p>
+
+<p>"And how many houses are to be built?"</p>
+
+<p>"We thought from twenty-five to thirty. Of course, the idea is that
+they should either be natives of Darleywater or have some connection
+with it. A town with fifty thousand odd inhabitants must have a good
+many of its men disabled."</p>
+
+<p>"And supposing you find they prefer to live in the town."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, then we shall make up our numbers from elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"It sounds easy," said Barbara shaking her head.</p>
+
+<p>"It bristles with difficulties," Stuart exclaimed, "but I'm going to
+tackle them. Now, look here, what do you think of this for a cottage?"</p>
+
+<p>He produced a roll out of his pocket and opened it. It was an exquisite
+little water-colour sketch of a small thatched cottage in the midst of
+a bower of shrubs and flowers.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked at it and caught her breath.</p>
+
+<p>"How lovely!"</p>
+
+<p>Then she looked up at some of the watercolours on the walls.</p>
+
+<p>And Stuart, following her gaze, laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"You recognise the same hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you paint these pictures?" asked Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"He did," said Barbara; "he gives me one every birthday, and I'm
+beginning to feel that this row of them dates my age. Really, Stuart,
+this cottage is ridiculous. It's just a picture. You'll never be able
+to carry it out."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? We've decided to use thatch, and revive the trade of
+thatchers. There's plenty of straw on the estate. In some cases, we
+shall build a couple together, in others, single. We've all kinds of
+ideas—one a communal laundry-house and drying-ground."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe the women will like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" Stuart would not be damped; he was quite excited over his
+subject. "I want to start it next week," he said.</p>
+
+<p>And then Barbara laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't that just like you! How much are they going to cost? Have you
+worked that out yet? And how much rent are you going to ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ennismore is going to do it on the hire system. After so many years'
+rent, when they've paid for the building, it's to be their own."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a good thing that Lord Ennismore is a rich man."</p>
+
+<p>"I think it's splendid of him," said Damaris enthusiastically. "Why
+should not all landlords try and do the same?"</p>
+
+<p>"They're most of them too out-of-pocket themselves," said Barbara. "I
+know what the yearly repairs of our cottages amount to."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but you'd save that if you gave it over to them," said Stuart.</p>
+
+<p>"Then what will happen? The unthrifty and careless will let their
+houses deteriorate year by year until they become unsanitary pig-styes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there'll be a signed agreement that, they'll vacate, if they can't
+keep up repairs."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll never be able to enforce that, when once the place is theirs.
+That is half the trouble with these country people who buy property.
+They cannot or will not keep them in good repair. It's a Utopian
+scheme, but not a practical one."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll make it practical. You can't damp me; I've taken over the job,
+and am going to work it for all I'm worth!"</p>
+
+<p>Stuart pinned his sketch up to one of the window curtains, then stood
+and looked at it with his eyes half shut and his head on one side.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—not much amiss with that! Ten years hence, our model village will
+be the ornament of the county!" Then he wheeled round upon Damaris.
+"Barbara is a wet blanket; encourage me, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't need to be encouraged," said Damaris, laughing; "you are
+determined to succeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I am. But I like a bit of applause."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Stuart," said Barbara, in her abrupt fashion, "wait till the
+time comes for applause. Plans and schemes are easy to formulate.</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+<br>
+"'The best laid schemes o' mice an' men<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Gang aft agley.'<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>"But I'll give you my good wishes, and we all shall be intensely
+interested in looking on."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you talk to Ennismore like that. I've got ahead of him on
+purpose to warn you that he wants pushing, not holding back."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll cheer him on!" said Barbara. "The only person I feel really
+sorry for is your aunt. She'll be a lost dog without you!"</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Later that evening, after Stuart had left them, Barbara began to talk
+about him.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he's an optimist of the first water; and there's no doubt
+about his industry and capability. He has hated this small agency of
+his aunt's which has tied him down."</p>
+
+<p>"How can he leave her?" asked Damaris. "And is he thinking of handing
+his work over to the doctor's son?"</p>
+
+<p>"To Gregory? Yes—Stuart has always been good to that boy. But I
+question the wisdom of bringing him here. It's true he has always
+hated surgery and medicine; but his father never let him alone till
+he persuaded him to take it up. And he has done no good at Bart's
+Hospital. He won't pass his examinations, and is leading a very
+go-ahead life in town. Drink is his snare. I question whether Mrs.
+Bonnycott will ever keep him. But it's like Stuart to try and do him a
+good turn; and, of course, it may be his salvation."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The very next afternoon, Mrs. Bonnycott arrived over, and complained,
+with tears, of her nephew's "hard-heartedness and officiousness."</p>
+
+<p>"I've always been so good to him, and we understand each other
+perfectly. Why has he this sudden craze for more work? And what
+business has he to produce Gregory Lancaster to fill his place without
+asking me first whether I would like him?"</p>
+
+<p>"He meant well," said Barbara, trying to soothe her; "and Gregory is a
+nice boy, and loves the country. He has been miserable in town."</p>
+
+<p>"Stuart ought to get married," Mrs. Bonnycott said suddenly; "his wife
+would steady him down. His brain is teeming with plans and schemes and
+impossible theories which he tries to carry out as fast as they come to
+him. I don't know why he doesn't marry?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I can tell you," said Barbara slowly; "he is so busy thinking
+about other people and doing things to help them, that he has no time
+to think about himself or his needs. I consider Stuart one of the most
+purely unselfish men that I have ever met!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this model village is ridiculous! Lord Ennismore will lose
+thousands over it. The people don't want to live in the country when
+they can have the chance of living in the town. Do you think a woman
+wouldn't rather have an oil and grocery store round the corner, and
+the baker, and butcher, and milkman all close to her hand, instead of
+having to trudge two miles into the town to get what she wants? It
+isn't sufficiently in the country to be independent of the town."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't see that," said Barbara; "bakers and butchers would call
+with their carts, of course!"</p>
+
+<p>"And it's to be a village of crocked-up men—not a sound one in the
+community! It's to be hoped the women will make up their deficiencies.
+We won't talk about it any more. I really don't care what he does with
+himself once he has left me."</p>
+
+<p>"But is he going to leave you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bonnycott looked a little ashamed of herself as she said—</p>
+
+<p>"I told him he shouldn't stay in my house when he gave up the agency.
+He has thrown me over with a month's notice—so I have done the same."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you'll think better of that," said Barbara.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady turned to Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"And how are you getting on, my dear? It is quite delightful to see you
+sit quietly there with your needlework. No young people will sit still
+nowadays. You haven't this craze for doing men's work, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, Mrs. Bonnycott: I have hardly settled in yet. But I
+think it's quite right of Mr. Maitland to do all the work he can.
+Perhaps I haven't a right to give my opinion. I have been listening
+to you all, but it seems to me that Mr. Maitland is the man for Lord
+Ennismore. He is a good architect, and he is artistic as well, and
+practical, and has a way of getting everyone to do what he wants—"</p>
+
+<p>"Not his aunt," interrupted Mrs. Bonnycott.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you think yourself that he will have full scope for all his
+energies and abilities?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want his energies and abilities spent upon 'my' property," said Mrs.
+Bonnycott stubbornly.</p>
+
+<p>She went away declaring that she would strike him out of her will, and
+have nothing more to do with him.</p>
+
+<p>Yet in a few days' time, Barbara told Damaris that there was no
+question of his leaving his aunt's, and that she was as good friends
+with him as ever.</p>
+
+<p>"He will be within easy reach of Lord Ennismore, and can ride over
+every day. Mrs. Bonnycott is like that. She raises a rumpus, and
+subsides as soon as she recovers her breath."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Stuart did not come over to the Hall so often now, and both Barbara and
+Damaris missed him.</p>
+
+<p>He and Lord Ennismore meant business; and plans and prospectuses for
+the model village were promptly drawn up. Both men thought and acted
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>One day, Lord Ennismore arrived over and showed Barbara the completed
+plans. Every detail had been worked out, and Barbara gasped at the
+rapidity with which it had all been done.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll run up the village like the Americans," she said laughingly;
+"and yet I think the English labourer will keep you back. You won't
+move him quickly, and both you and Stuart must reserve a good stock of
+patience for when you come to deal with them."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know that people have got ear of it, and I have already fifty
+applications for my cottages."</p>
+
+<p>"Not fifty disabled soldiers?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; a few others have thought fit to apply, being relatives of
+disabled soldiers. Two or three widows want to come. But my village is
+for married couples—and I make no exceptions."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris took a great interest in the scheme. Sir Mark laughed at it, as
+did many of the neighbouring gentry. Barbara approved of it, and her
+advice and sympathy were very welcome to both Lord Ennismore and Stuart.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Dashwood returned to the village with her little boy, and
+Damaris was not long in renewing her acquaintance with her.</p>
+
+<p>She spent a long day at the Rectory soon after her return, and told her
+of the talk she had had with Mrs. Patch.</p>
+
+<p>"It has made a big change in my life," Damaris said. "I have been
+longing to talk to some one about it. Aunt Barbara would not
+understand. I am always shy of speaking to her about serious things,
+but it seems the most natural thing in the world when am I with you."</p>
+
+<p>"That's as it should be," said Mrs. Dashwood, with her charming smile,
+"for it is what matters most to us."</p>
+
+<p>"And I'm longing to talk to you about my life," went on Damaris
+earnestly. "You know, in London, I felt almost in prison—I could do
+nothing, go nowhere. Here it is different, my grandfather is so good to
+me. He is always saying he wants me to enjoy myself; but I feel I am
+leading a very idle lazy life at present. I don't want to circle round
+myself. I want to do something really useful—something for God. What
+can I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Are you looking about for a big thing, or would you be content to do
+the little things close at hand?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think I should like a big thing best," said Damaris frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not begin with small things? Take a Sunday class and talk to the
+children about the love of our Lord for them? Take one or two of our
+sick people in your charge and visit them and talk to them, and don't
+be afraid to pray with them. I can give you lots of work. My husband is
+not strong, as you know, and I love to imagine myself his curate."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris did not look satisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know what a longing I have to go out into the world and
+work?" she said. "All through the war, I had to sit still and see and
+read about all the splendid work that other girls were doing. And I
+am not really wanted at the Hall—Aunt Barbara does the housekeeping
+and helps grandfather with some of his accounts. They are very good to
+me—but they don't really want me."</p>
+
+<p>"And what work would you like to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. I want you to tell me. I don't think I could be a
+missionary, for I am so stupid at languages."</p>
+
+<p>"We must think about it. You young things always want to start out
+at once and attack giants! Meanwhile, till this big bit of work is
+developed, will you take a Sunday class and help me a little in the
+village?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I will do my best. You will help me, I know."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris found that with Mrs. Dashwood at home there was always plenty
+going on. She started her class and helped as much as she could in
+village matters.</p>
+
+<p>Barbara made no comment. As she had truly said to Damaris, her motto
+was, "Live and let live." She and her father were hunting now; and
+Damaris saw little of them on their hunting days.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark had wanted to give her a horse, but at present Damaris was shy
+of learning to ride. She had never been accustomed to horses and was
+nervous of them. Her grandfather told her when the hunting season was
+over, he would take her in hand himself and teach her how to ride.</p>
+
+<p>And Damaris was very happy in her quiet way. She rather enjoyed the
+days when she had the Hall to herself. Sometimes Eddie Dashwood came
+up and spent the day with her. More often she went to the Rectory. And
+when she was not busy, she would take the dog out for a run over the
+common, and thoroughly enjoy herself.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>BARBARA'S ENGAGEMENT</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>AUTUMN gave place to winter. November was a wet cold month, then
+December came in with a long spell of frost, and all hunting was
+stopped. Barbara was more at home, and there were many days when she
+and Damaris sat in deep armchairs over cheery wood fires occupied with
+their books and needlework.</p>
+
+<p>Upon one of these afternoons, Damaris suddenly looked up and said—</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Barbara, I want to talk to you. I am very happy here—don't
+think I am not—but it really is too idle a life for me. Would you and
+grandfather think it dreadful of me if I went away and did some work? I
+want to do something. Of course, I should like to feel that this was my
+home, and that I could come and go as I liked. But, you see, I am not
+needed, am I? I just eat and sleep and have a comfortable time, and I
+want to do more with my life than that!"</p>
+
+<p>Barbara looked at her in silence for a moment, then she said—</p>
+
+<p>"Is this some sudden thought? I expect Mrs. Dashwood has been trying to
+convert you."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris coloured up at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Dashwood advises me to stay where I am for the present."</p>
+
+<p>"That is good advice." There was another silence, then Barbara said,
+"What kind of work do you want to take up? Nursing? Slumming? Religious
+work, or merely philanthropical?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris hesitated. Then, with an effort, she said—</p>
+
+<p>"I see things differently to what I did, Aunt Barbara. I want to do
+religious work if I can. I have wanted to be one of the world's workers
+for a long time. I have never done anything all these years but live
+for myself; now I want to do something better."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid father won't approve. He is old-fashioned in his ideas. I
+wanted to do something for the Red Cross during the war, but he set his
+face against it, and I could not well leave him. You had better speak
+to him about it after dinner. Of course I know most girls have got this
+craze for work away from their homes. I wonder you did not start it
+after your uncles' deaths."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not understand things as I do now," said Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, if it's religious conviction, I've nothing to say," said
+Barbara bluntly. "As far as I'm concerned, you could go to-morrow.
+But having gone through all this fuss of finding your relations, and
+settling down with them, it seems funny that you should want to be up
+and off again."</p>
+
+<p>Tears crowded into Damaris's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose grandfather would think it ungrateful of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. Talk to him about it. I have nothing to say in the
+matter."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara would say no more.</p>
+
+<p>But before dinner, Damaris told her that she did not think she would
+speak to her grandfather that night.</p>
+
+<p>"It is cowardly of me, but I would not like to hurt his feelings.
+And as I have formulated no ideas yet, I will wait until I hear of
+something."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Barbara. "I shall say nothing. You may be certain of
+that."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>But, about ten days afterwards, Lord Ennismore came to lunch. And in
+the afternoon, he and Barbara went for a walk together.</p>
+
+<p>When she came in, she shut herself up in her boudoir for an hour, then
+sent for Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to speak to you. Are you still panting for a busier life?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I am trying not to pant for it, but to wait for it," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you know I'm not a person who beats about the bush," Barbara
+said, "so I may as well tell you that I have been worried for some
+years now by Lord Ennismore to marry him. I have refused him again
+and again. First and foremost, because I do not want to become a
+stepmother. I hated mine so much that I fear old scores will be paid
+off on me by his daughters. Secondly, because I could not leave my
+father. Perhaps I should put that as my first reason. Now it has struck
+me that if you will take my place and look after him and the house, I
+am free to go. You will not feel then that you are leading a useless
+existence, for I can tell you it takes a bit of doing. I'm perfectly
+certain there'll be ructions between you and father if you want to go
+slumming or anything of that sort. If you'll content yourself with
+doing my job, I'll be off. I'm not only thinking of myself, but Horace
+has been wasting all his years waiting for me; and now he has this
+village scheme on, I know I could help him to run it smoothly. Take
+your time to think it over."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt bewildered. Her aunt's matter of fact way of talking
+generally amused her; now it almost stunned her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she said. "It will be a heavy responsibility. How grandfather
+will miss you! I can never, never take your place! But of course I have
+no right to make any objections. I will do my best. I don't want time
+to think it over. How can I say no? I'm not afraid of the housekeeping
+part of it—I had plenty of experience in that way at my uncles'—but I
+am afraid of grandfather. You do so much estate business with him. Will
+he be patient with me till I get into the way of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can soon give you the hang of that," said Barbara. "You must spend
+an hour every morning with me when I'm interviewing Blake our agent."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do my very best. Oh, Aunt Barbara, may I say how glad I am for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"The romance has gone, Damaris. I am too old to enjoy the thought of
+the change. But Horace and I know each other through and through, and
+we shall get along very comfortably."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Mr. Gore!" murmured Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, who has been stuffing you with that nonsense?" said Barbara, a
+little shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Bonnycott told me he was fond of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ridiculous! Mr. Gore is only fond of his insects and birds. We are
+good friends—but my love of hunting and his dislike of it would bar any
+close intercourse together. Well, we've settled everything up, and now
+I'll write to Horace and have a talk with father."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara went away whistling softly to herself, and Damaris slipped up
+to her own room, where she sat down before her fire, and surveyed with
+dismay the destruction of her hopes.</p>
+
+<p>"It must be right. Aunt Barbara has spent all her youth in doing what
+she asks me to do now. But it isn't a high ideal of service. I wonder
+what Mrs. Dashwood will say. I am afraid she will not pity me. She
+always puts home ties and duties first, and says God's will and work
+are foremost there."</p>
+
+<p>Her impulse was to go straight off to the Rectory then and there and
+tell Mrs. Dashwood everything, but she knew she could not do that, till
+she had her aunt's leave to do so. So she did what was a much better
+thing—she took the whole matter to God upon her knees, and asked to be
+made willing to do His will—even if she were to be debarred a life of
+active service in the mission field at home or abroad.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark took the news with great equanimity of soul.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you're going to make Ennismore happy at last," he said.
+"You've been long enough making up your mind! And what the dickens I
+shall do without you I don't know! But Damaris and I will pull along
+somehow."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," cried Damaris eagerly; "I mean to do all I can to fill Aunt
+Barbara's place. And she won't be living very far away from us, will
+she? If I do get into difficulties, I shall just go over to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course—of course. You must learn how to housekeep before she leaves
+us."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid of that. I kept house for my uncles for so many years—"</p>
+
+<p>"Tut!" exclaimed Sir Mark hastily. "Don't compare that city life of
+yours to ours here!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris flushed hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"We had a big house, and a good many maids," she said, with a little
+resentment in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't wish to hear anything about that time," said Sir Mark, still
+irritable.</p>
+
+<p>"There is nothing to be ashamed of in it!" Damaris said, and she
+quitted the room as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Dash the girl!" exclaimed Sir Mark. "She's strutting away with her
+head up like a little turkey-cock."</p>
+
+<p>"Father, you must try and not abuse those uncles of hers," said
+Barbara. "Remember they gave her a home from the time she was a baby."</p>
+
+<p>"City people! City people!" muttered Sir Mark. "And hadn't the grace to
+leave the child a penny."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>When next he saw Damaris, she came up to him in a pretty contrite
+fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, grandfather, for getting so hot, but I must be loyal
+towards my uncles. They did a great deal for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes; we'll say no more about it, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>The little cloud passed, but Barbara, in her straightforward fashion,
+spoke to Damaris about it.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't vex your grandfather by mentioning your father's relations. It
+only upsets him and does no good."</p>
+
+<p>"But he seems to think them beneath his notice. And they were not.
+They were courteous and kind and thorough gentlemen. Do I show traces
+of vulgarity? They brought me up. I don't feel inferior to you; and I
+shall never, never look down upon my own father."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara smiled at the heat of her tones. "You're so young," she said.
+"Nobody wants you to look down upon your father's people; but we simply
+don't care to hear about them—at least father does not. You are quite
+right to be loyal to your uncles' memories, but don't discuss them with
+us. You will find, as you go through life, that it's best to make for
+peace, and avoid anything that raises dust. And I don't want you to
+forget that father has a weak heart, and that his doctor has warned us
+against letting him excite himself."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know that," said Damaris, penitently. "But why do you let
+him hunt?"</p>
+
+<p>"He would break his heart if he did not. He hunts quietly, and a
+certain amount of exercise is good for him."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Barbara's engagement made a great stir in the neighbourhood.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart arrived over at once, and made his advent known by sitting down
+at the piano and playing the Wedding March in a very spirited fashion.</p>
+
+<p>When he saw Damaris, he shook his head at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! You're the cause of Barbara's resolve to leave us. I shall lose my
+lifelong friend now, for I'm not very fond of married women, especially
+in the first years of married life. I consider she is forsaking me as
+well as her father. Do you feel equal to taking on Barbara's friends as
+well as her household duties?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel equal to any of it," said Damaris in a forlorn tone. "I
+mean to do my best, but it will be a poor best, I'm afraid. I wish you
+would play something to comfort me. That Wedding March makes me feel
+miserable."</p>
+
+<p>She and he were alone in the library. She and Barbara had been upstairs
+together, doing some accounts in Damaris's boudoir, and Barbara had
+sent her down when she heard the sound of the piano.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep him quiet till I come. I must write a note before I see him."</p>
+
+<p>So Stuart began one of his soothing melodies, and Damaris sat in a low
+chair by the fire, with her hands loosely clasped in her lap, and her
+eyes heavy with thought. His keen quick eye passed over her dainty
+little figure, and then he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know that I want you for a friend. I have too many."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris started; then, realising what he had said, she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"It takes two to make a compact of friendship," she said, "so your
+statement is premature."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know it sounds uncivil, and if you only saw into my mind, you
+would know it was anything but that. Friendship is very hollow and
+uncertain, and most unsatisfactory."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, we'll have nothing to do with it," said Damaris derisively.</p>
+
+<p>"You sound rather nasty. I want something better than friendship with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>He drowned his last words in some passionate chords, then broke into
+some weird Russian fugues, and Damaris listened with a fascination
+which took her entirely away from herself and surroundings. Then
+Barbara came in and the spell was broken.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart left the piano, and he and Barbara pulled two deep lounge chairs
+before the fire and commenced discussing the model village. Damaris
+left them. She had a good many heart sinkings about the future, but
+bravely kept them to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Christmas came, and with it a great deal of entertaining at the Hall.
+Sir Mark's eldest son and family all came to stay. Maurice, the naval
+son, was home on leave, and Walter came down from town.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt almost bewildered at first amongst all her new relations.
+But their frank kindly acceptance of her soon put her at ease. The
+only one who held a little aloof from her was Mrs. Herbert Murray. She
+was a very pretty young woman and accustomed to much attention and
+homage; but she was not as a rule friendly with young girls, and she
+rather resented Damaris's presence there. When she heard of Barbara's
+engagement, she said rather sharply—</p>
+
+<p>"I think Herbert and I had better come down for a bit when you leave
+your father. He must have somebody responsible here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Damaris is going to look after him," said Barbara placidly.</p>
+
+<p>"That child! She looks like a schoolgirl! And from what I hear has had
+little opportunity for mixing in decent society."</p>
+
+<p>"She has a clever head-piece of her own," said Barbara; "so spare
+yourself anxiety on that score, Ella."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are going to make her mistress of the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally, she will be, when I leave."</p>
+
+<p>Ella said no more. She was an ambitious woman, and longed for the time
+when she herself would reign at the Hall.</p>
+
+<p>Now she keenly criticised Damaris's every word and action, and the girl
+was conscious of it at once, and kept out of the elder woman's way as
+much as possible.</p>
+
+<p>But she loved her little girl and boys, and was the greatest friends
+with them, taking them out upon the common for walks, and playing games
+with them in the old nursery at the top of the house.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>It was the last evening of their stay. The big drawing-room was lighted
+up and full of guests, as Barbara had had a big dinner party, and
+Stuart had just been entertaining them with his music. Damaris was
+standing by his side, putting some music by, when Mrs. Herbert's clear
+voice came to them very distinctly. She was talking to a Lady Maria
+Leslie, one of the greatest gossips of the county.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a mercy she takes after her mother—that was the item which
+appealed to Sir Mark—her father was a mere nobody; and she has been
+brought up by her father's people in the city. I tell Barbara it's a
+risky experiment bringing her forward in the way she does; one never
+feels sure of her. And I did hear she had had a very unsatisfactory
+love entanglement before she came here."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's cheeks flushed hotly, and such a fire shot into her eyes
+that for one instant Stuart thought she was going to lose control of
+herself. She met his glance, and her lips compressed in straight tense
+lines.</p>
+
+<p>"Idle words never hurt," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"They hurt more than a blow," retorted Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>Then the fire died down in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I must live it down," she said; "my grandfather talks in that way
+sometimes—at least, he seems to think he has rescued me from a very
+low-class life and position. And as it is not a fact, it makes me very
+angry."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart looked sympathetic. Then he said lightly—</p>
+
+<p>"We've all something to bear, haven't we? It's good for us—otherwise we
+shouldn't be disciplined in self-control and endurance. Now my cross
+is that people will not take me seriously. I had a battle-royal to-day
+with a self-complacent builder, who kept saying, 'You will have your
+little joke, sir!' I could thankfully have throttled him, for I was
+bursting with savage earnestness."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled. Her moment of passion was over. When, a few minutes
+after, Mrs. Herbert spoke to her, she answered her serenely and sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>But Stuart's quick understanding and sympathy brought a warmth to her
+heart. And then he said good-night to her, and added sotto voce—</p>
+
+<p>"Cheer up! We all know Mrs. Herbert, and she goes to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>She responded instantly—</p>
+
+<p>"I shall forget all about it. What a nice understanding kind of person
+you are!"</p>
+
+<p>And when he had gone she said to herself—</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder why he said he didn't want to be my friend. No others have
+shown themselves as friendly as he."</p>
+
+<p>The Christmas party broke up, and then, a couple of months later,
+Barbara's marriage took place. It was very quiet, but Damaris had her
+hands full. And when it was all over, she went up to her room and had
+a quiet cry. She knew every one would miss her aunt, she most of all.
+Barbara's quiet cheeriness, and strong firm decision of character made
+her a very efficient ruler. And when Damaris found herself left alone,
+it needed all her pluck and courage to take up the reins of government,
+and try to be the companion of her grandfather that her aunt had been.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Dashwood helped her very much at this juncture. She was so
+cheerfully confident that Damaris's duty was at home, and that her work
+for God lay there, that the girl herself came to believe it, and was
+content.</p>
+
+<p>It was not always easy sailing. Sir Mark was irritable and impatient
+when things went wrong.</p>
+
+<p>"If Barbara were here, it would not have happened," he would say. And
+there was often injustice in the complaint.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole, he and Damaris got on very well together. She learned
+to be patient with him when he was unreasonable and hot-tempered. He
+learnt to be patient with her when she was slow in comprehending his
+business matters.</p>
+
+<p>The old servants loved Damaris. She had no difficulty in managing her
+housekeeping. And when Barbara came over for a short visit after her
+honeymoon, she was satisfied that Damaris was supplying her place very
+competently.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_15">CHAPTER XV</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE SQUIRE'S ACCIDENT</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"GRANDFATHER, I want to ask you a favour."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris and Sir Mark were breakfasting together. It was a lovely
+morning, the beginning of April. It was hardly an opportune moment, for
+Sir Mark was always short-tempered when the hunting ceased, and he had
+taken his last run the day before.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? More money?" he asked shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear no! It is only to ask you if you will mind my having a friend
+to stay with me. I have heard from her, and she has been ill of the flu
+and has been ordered to the country to have a thorough rest."</p>
+
+<p>"We don't want the flu brought here."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she is well from that. I say a friend, but she's really a cousin;
+I have not known her for very long."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, look here, Damaris! What did I tell you about your father's
+relations? I'll have nothing to do with them. Most certainly I shall
+not have them here as our guests. I am surprised that you should ask
+such a thing!"</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you condemn her when you haven't seen her? I know you
+would like her. She is clever, and nice in every way."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark uttered an expletive which sounded like an oath; he thumped
+his fist down on the table, and grew almost purple in the face.
+Damaris, remembering her aunt's warnings that she was not to let him
+become excited, was filled with contrition.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, grandfather. I hoped you would let me have her. You will
+not mind, of course, if I get her lodgings in the village?"</p>
+
+<p>"She shall not enter this house; you quite understand? I'm master here,
+and I shall see that I'm obeyed."</p>
+
+<p>"I always mean to obey you," Damaris said gently.</p>
+
+<p>Sudden silence fell between them. Sir Mark's anger faded away as
+quickly as it came, but Damaris did not like to see the pinched
+grey shadows that stole over his face. He occupied himself with his
+newspaper and letters for the rest of the meal. When it was over,
+Damaris went swiftly round to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Please forgive me," she said sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>"All right; all right; but remember you are a Murray now, not a
+Hartbrook. I would you did not bear the name. It is loathsome to me."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris checked the sigh that rose within her. She could never
+get accustomed to hear her father's name slighted, and was keenly
+disappointed that she might not ask Nellie to the house. Miss Hardacre
+had written to her and told her how unwell Nellie was, and how she
+could not be persuaded to go away from town.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the day, she met Stuart when she was out with the dogs on
+the common. She did not often see him in the week. He and Barbara and
+Lord Ennismore were all working at the model village, and pushing the
+building on with all their might and main. But every Sunday Stuart came
+over to lunch. The Squire looked for him. He sat with him after lunch
+in the smoking-room till tea-time, then he attached himself to Damaris.
+They went to evening church together, and sometimes took a stroll
+before it.</p>
+
+<p>And Damaris began to look for his coming. He might say he did not want
+to be her friend, but he proved a very sympathetic listener, and a good
+comrade in the best sense of the word.</p>
+
+<p>Now, as he rode across the common, he pulled up at the sight of her.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything wrong?" he inquired, with a quick glance at her face.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled, but her misty eyes betrayed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing that matters," she said. "I only wanted something, and made
+grandfather angry by asking for it. Oh, I can tell you in a moment. A
+cousin of mine is ill and has nowhere to rest. She is not well off, and
+I thought of the empty rooms at the Hall, so comfortable and sunny, and
+longed to have her. Of course, as she is a Hartbrook, it is impossible.
+I shall try to get her lodgings in the village—only she is very
+proud—and she will persist in paying, and I did not want her to have
+any expenses."</p>
+
+<p>"If I see a way out of your difficulty, I'll drop you a line," said
+Stuart cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris laughed. His bright face always did her good.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think even you can help me in this case," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, will you do something for me? Get the Squire to ask young
+Lancaster over to dine one night. He finds his evenings dull, and the
+Squire always likes young chaps about him."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll ask him, of course," said Damaris promptly. "I haven't met him
+yet. What is he like? And is he getting on at Fallerton? Does he like
+it there?"</p>
+
+<p>"He would if my dear aunt left him more alone. She bullies him a bit,
+and throws me at his head till he hates the sight of me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know. That is how I feel when grandfather quotes Aunt Barbara.
+And yet I really love her."</p>
+
+<p>They parted, and Damaris pursued her way.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next day came a note from Mrs. Bonnycott asking Damaris for
+Nellie's address.</p>
+
+<p>"I want help badly for a bazaar that I'm responsible for, and, from
+what I hear, your cousin would just suit me. I am going to ask her on a
+visit. I know I shall end my days by being in bondage to a tyrannical
+companion. I feel I want somebody to talk to when things go wrong. I
+really meant to have you, only you disappeared so quickly and then
+turned up in another guise."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was astonished at Stuart's promptness in befriending her, but
+was very doubtful whether Nellie would accept such an invitation.</p>
+
+<p>However, in a few days' time, Nellie wrote to her saying that Mrs.
+Bonnycott had written her such an exceedingly kind letter that she
+could not refuse.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, she does it for your sake," wrote Nellie. "Does she
+expect to see another Damaris walk in? I fear she will be grievously
+disappointed if she does. But I have accepted. I gather that I shall be
+on one side of a big common, and you the other. Shall we meet in the
+middle of it one day?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt intensely relieved when she read this letter. Then she
+cheerfully tackled her grandfather about Geoffrey Lancaster.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark acquiesced at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; ask him over any evening. I have a great respect for his father,
+and the lad is all right—only kicked against making up drugs and sawing
+bones and all the rest of it. Small blame to him!"</p>
+
+<p>So young Geoffrey Lancaster came to the Hall, and, as was only natural,
+fell violently in love with Damaris. She was amused with his open
+admiration at first, then she got uneasy and annoyed. Whenever he had
+leisure, he would appear at the Hall. Damaris took him to task one day.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know this is the third time you have been over this week? Do
+you find you can leave your work so often?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I had to come over here to have my horse shod."</p>
+
+<p>"You have a smithy at Fallerton."</p>
+
+<p>"Old Luke is dotty, and his son is laid up. Don't you want to see me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want you to fail Mrs. Bonnycott."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure Maitland used to be over here pretty often. He and Lady
+Ennismore were always together. I used to think they would make a match
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>"It's getting such a busy time on the farms," said Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I'm up and out at five every morning. And I can tell you I do all
+the work and enjoy it. After London, it's heaven to be able to breathe
+again. Will you come for a ride? Sir Mark wants you to be at home in
+the saddle, doesn't he? I've ridden over. Let me tell them to bring
+your horse round, and we'll go over the common."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris yielded. She had been out with her grandfather several times,
+and he had been very pleased with her progress. She found she was not
+nervous, and as her horse was quiet and steady she felt confidence in
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Now, when she was mounted and going easily down the drive with
+Geoffrey, she realised how much she enjoyed it.</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw any beginner sit a horse so easily as you do," Geoffrey
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, wait till he breaks into trot!" she said, laughing. "But I want
+to learn to ride. I shall never hunt, but I want to ride out with my
+grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>They chatted together about various things, and Stuart's name was
+mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>Geoffrey's eyes glowed when he spoke of him.</p>
+
+<p>"I owe him a debt I can never pay. There isn't a man in a thousand who
+would have taken hold of me as he did. He never talks or jaws at a
+fellow. He just acts. I can tell you I was pretty well at the end of
+everything, in town. I loathed my work, I loathed myself, and then he
+came along, bucked me up, put life and hope into me again, and never
+rested till he had handed his own job over to me—the very billet that
+I'm fitted for, I consider. Certainly the one I liked above all else!"</p>
+
+<p>"He's always doing those kind of things Aunt Barbara says," said
+Damaris. "I know he has befriended me many a time."</p>
+
+<p>"Who wouldn't?" exclaimed Geoffrey. "That is no feather in his cap, but
+with me it was different."</p>
+
+<p>They were riding past a clump of blackthorns all in full blossom, and
+Damaris reined up her horse.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" she cried. "I must have a branch of this lovely stuff."</p>
+
+<p>"Look after your reins," Geoffrey called out.</p>
+
+<p>In reaching up, she had dropped her reins. Her horse swerved; then,
+before she could reach them, he had broken away in a canter, and the
+next moment Damaris was thrown. Happily she fell on soft turf, but
+Geoffrey had an awful moment before he was able to reach her.</p>
+
+<p>"Damaris! Damaris!" he cried. "Are you hurt? Oh, speak!"</p>
+
+<p>For a moment, Damaris seemed stunned. Then she recovered herself and
+sat up. She smiled up into his anxious face.</p>
+
+<p>"I have hurt my arm—but no bones broken. I assure you I am all right.
+Can you catch Firefly? He is munching the grass over there."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, blow Firefly! It is you I am thinking about."</p>
+
+<p>He had dismounted, and was helping her to rise as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"There, you see, I'm all right. I've only twisted or sprained my right
+wrist. Do catch Firefly. And I'll mount him again at once and go home.
+It was all my own fault. I'm not accustomed to riding, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Geoffrey soon captured Firefly, and assisted Damaris to mount him. Then
+they rode home very slowly, and Geoffrey astounded Damaris by proposing
+to her on the way.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you haven't seen much of me, but a day was long enough to show
+me where my heart was. And your accident has precipitated matters. I
+feel I must have the right to take care of you. It was horrible when I
+saw you pitch over your horse's head. I know my prospects are not much;
+but there are good agencies going and I daresay the Squire will help
+me, unless he kicks me out of the house for daring to speak to you. If
+I haven't money to offer you—I have a heart, and I'll work to get a
+home, if only you give me the least bit of hope."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I can't do that, Mr. Lancaster," said Damaris gravely but
+sweetly. "I am so sorry you have broken our friendship by speaking so.
+I could never be to you anything more than a friend. I am quite sure of
+this, and hope you'll understand. And I thank you very much. I'm sorry
+if my answer will disappoint you."</p>
+
+<p>"Disappoint me!" cried poor Geoffrey. "It has cast me from heaven into
+hell. I've been too rash—I had better have waited."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid if you had waited twenty years, my answer would have been
+the same."</p>
+
+<p>Geoffrey gave a groan.</p>
+
+<p>"Is somebody else in the way? Maitland? Oh, forgive me—I don't know
+what I'm saying!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's cheeks burned. Her arm was paining her, and she longed to be
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>They rode back to the Hall in silence. Geoffrey was too dejected to say
+a word. He left her at the door. Damaris tried to say something, but
+could not. She had only known him such a short time that he had not
+only surprised her, but annoyed her by his sudden proposal.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a mere boy; and how dare he insinuate—" she murmured to herself.
+"When I think of the two of them, and the difference in age and
+character and personality, it makes me furious!"</p>
+
+<p>She wondered if she had inadvertently encouraged him by her friendly
+intercourse with him. She had liked him and felt sorry for him. He
+had no mother and rather a dreary home; his father was bitterly
+disappointed over his failure to pass his medical exams., and hardly
+took any notice of him.</p>
+
+<p>Geoffrey almost lived at Fallerton Manor. Mrs. Bonnycott insisted upon
+a good deal of supervision of her property, and did not yet believe in
+his capability to act alone. Stuart was the only one who believed in
+him; but Stuart was much engrossed with the model village, and was away
+the greater part of the week.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>In two days' time, Damaris met her cousin, and they were genuinely
+pleased to see each other again. Nellie looked white and very thin,
+but she told Damaris that she found the Fallerton air life-giving. She
+had made a good impression upon Mrs. Bonnycott, who said to Damaris
+directly she saw her—</p>
+
+<p>"She'll do, my dear! A real sensible girl! Wears low heels and looks
+you in the face when she speaks to you!"</p>
+
+<p>When the girls were alone, Nellie said—</p>
+
+<p>"She's an old dear. I always do like old ladies, as you know. And,
+of course, I'm in the lap of luxury, which is foreign to my Spartan
+nature, but is pleasing, all the same."</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you think of Mr. Maitland—'The idle rich young man who
+plays at farming'? Do you remember how you talked in London about men
+and their purposeless lives?"</p>
+
+<p>"He plays divinely!" said Nellie with a little smile. "He came in late
+last night and played in the dark. Mrs. Bonnycott let me prop the
+library door open to listen. We were sitting there together, and he
+went into the music-room. I quite enjoyed it. Well, he isn't asleep!
+and is awfully keen on his village. The other young man puzzles me. The
+first day I came, he was a jolly happy boy. Two days ago, he returned
+from a ride, and has been in the depths of melancholy ever since."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris said nothing, but Nellie's sharp eyes detected a slight
+confusion in her manner.</p>
+
+<p>"He told me he often sees you," Nellie went on. "I hope you don't keep
+him away from his work. Is his melancholy due to the hurt you received
+in your arm the other day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's nothing. I've only strained the muscles. No, if you must
+know, Nellie, he wants me to be more than friends with him, and I
+cannot. He is taking it hardly, but I really gave him no encouragement."</p>
+
+<p>"The ridiculous youth! How angry your grandfather would be! Is he
+ambitious for you, Damaris? This boy hasn't a penny to bless himself
+with. I'm glad to know the reason of his sulkiness. I'll try to
+brighten him up. How do you get on with your grandfather?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, on the whole." A little flush came into her cheeks. "I had
+better tell you, Nellie. He still hates my father's family. He wouldn't
+let me ask you to the house. He won't even let anyone call me Miss
+Hartbrook, he hates the name so! I am 'Miss Damaris' to the servants.
+It is quite a mania with him. This is one of my trials."</p>
+
+<p>Nellie looked grave.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he know I have come to stay here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes; I mentioned it. But you will understand if I can't ask you to
+the house."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right. I'm glad you told me. How antiquated and foolish
+these old country squires are. Well—we can meet on the common, can't
+we? And I mean to be busy; Mrs. Bonnycott will keep me at it, I know."</p>
+
+<p>They spent a couple of happy hours together, and agreed to meet again
+before long.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>A week later, Sir Mark met with an accident out riding. Unlike Damaris,
+he did not escape so easily. He was trying a new horse, and insisted on
+taking it out himself. Damaris stood on the terrace, and felt a little
+uneasy as she watched it kicking and plunging.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe Aunt Barbara would let you go off alone," she said,
+trying to speak lightly. "Won't you take Dawkins with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not in my dotage yet," was the testy reply; "when I can't manage
+a horse, I'll take to my bed. Run indoors, child, and don't worry me.
+He's a hard-mouthed brute, I'm afraid."</p>
+
+<p>He applied his spurs lightly, and his horse plunged down the drive at a
+reckless pace.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris felt uneasy, and Dawkins, the old groom, said doubtfully—</p>
+
+<p>"The master has got a handful there; but if any one will tame him, he
+will."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris went indoors, but she could settle to nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"It's so bad for his heart," she said to herself. "I wish he would come
+back."</p>
+
+<p>But the afternoon wore away, and he did not return.</p>
+
+<p>At tea-time she became so anxious, that she sent off Dawkins in search
+of him.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>When seven o'clock arrived and he did not return, she was convinced
+that some accident had happened. And then she heard the sound of hoofs
+outside on the gravel, and, running to the door, found Dawkins holding
+a note out to the old butler.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you found the Squire?" she asked Dawkins sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, miss. He's had a spill—but nothing very serious. He's laid up at
+Fallerton Manor, and the doctor has been and says he must stay there
+for the night. The horse is there too."</p>
+
+<p>"I must go to him at once!"</p>
+
+<p>But when she opened Mrs. Bonnycott's note, she found she was not wanted.</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"MY DEAR DAMARIS,—I have your grandfather safe and sound in bed in
+my best spare room. No bones broken; but he had a tumble and a heart
+attack. Your cousin found him and brought him here. Dr. Lancaster has
+been, and says he can return home to-morrow, so don't be anxious. He
+sends you his love, and tells you there is no need to worry or come
+over. He will be home, if all is well, to-morrow morning. No time for
+more. We will take good care of him.<br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">"Yours affectionately,</span><br>
+<br>
+<span style="margin-left: 19em;">"KITTY BONNYCOTT."</span><br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>Damaris had dinner alone, and spent a miserable evening. She wondered
+if her aunt would have been content to stay at home, or whether she
+would not have gone to her father at once.</p>
+
+<p>She had a sleepless night, and was disappointed to hear nothing by the
+postman.</p>
+
+<p>But at ten o'clock, just as she had finished her breakfast, Stuart
+walked in.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>A DIFFICULT TIME</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>DAMARIS welcomed him eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how good of you! How pleased I am to see you! You always seem to
+turn up when I am in the depths. How is grandfather? I am so anxious."</p>
+
+<p>"Your face tells me that. Cheer up! He's as well as can be expected.
+What a rash old chap he is! I've advised him to send the horse straight
+back to the dealers. He is not fit for an elderly man with a weak
+heart."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's his heart that troubles me. Is he really bad?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better this morning; he didn't have a very good night. What a trump
+your cousin is; she sat up all night with him. Lancaster won't let him
+move from bed till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he isn't coming home to-day?" Damaris said in a forlorn voice.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart looked at her. She stood at the open window, looking very fresh
+and sweet in a cream serge skirt and silk shirt. Her lips quivered a
+little as she spoke, and Stuart felt a sudden longing to take her into
+his arms and comfort her. But he answered in his usual light-hearted
+fashion—</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's nothing! What would you feel if I told you he was laid up
+for a couple of months? And if you put on your hat, we'll walk right
+across the common together, and you can see the Squire with your own
+eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll come at once. If I can see him, I shall feel better. And ought
+not Barbara to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell her when I get over. She's coming out to the village this
+morning. I'm meeting Ennismore there at twelve. As a matter of fact,
+Aunt Kitty sent the groom over last night to give her the news. And if
+she is the least anxious, she'll be over there by this time."</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments, they were walking down the drive.</p>
+
+<p>To distract her mind, Stuart began to talk about his work and his model
+village. Damaris listened with real interest. Just before they reached
+Fallerton, he said—</p>
+
+<p>"Have you and Geoffrey quarrelled? I thought you were such good
+friends. I suggested that he should ride over this morning and reassure
+your mind about the Squire, but he did not seem to see it."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's little head was raised at once.</p>
+
+<p>"I think he was over here too much—neglecting his work."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Youth will gravitate towards youth."</p>
+
+<p>"You might be my grandfather," said Damaris a little mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I speak like him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes. You are apt to treat me like a child."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not very old yet. I only speak as a friend."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Damaris quickly, "you told me you never wanted to be my
+friend."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart threw up his hands and laughed. "So I did! What a memory you
+have."</p>
+
+<p>"It rather hurt my feelings."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped still and looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>For an instant Damaris's heart beat rapidly. What was he going to say?
+Then she continued, talking hurriedly—</p>
+
+<p>"How do you like my cousin? I'm very fond of her. I wish grandfather
+would know her."</p>
+
+<p>"He does. She practically saved his life. You will hear all about it
+from her."</p>
+
+<p>They had crossed the common, and Nellie met them at the door of the
+Manor.</p>
+
+<p>She took Damaris straight to the morning-room, in which she helped Mrs.
+Bonnycott with her correspondence and did all sorts of odd jobs.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't go up just yet to Sir Mark, for he has fallen asleep, and
+it is so important for him to sleep that we must not disturb him. Mrs.
+Bonnycott has gone out into the village with her dog."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we can have a good talk. Do tell me all about it, Nellie. I hear
+you helped him after his accident. Tell me everything."</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't much to tell. I was going across the common not very far
+from here, but in rather an unfrequented part, when a rider suddenly
+passed me. Of course, it was your grandfather. It struck me that he
+was trying to pull in his horse very ineffectually; and then suddenly
+the horse plunged and reared, and Sir Mark fell. He recovered himself
+instantly, and was upon his feet again, gripping the bridle. I came
+up, and noticed that he looked awfully ill. His face was blue-grey and
+drawn with pain. Directly he saw me, he cried out—</p>
+
+<p>"'Here, young woman, catch hold of this brute. He won't hurt you. I've
+given him a good gallop, and he ought to be tired out.'</p>
+
+<p>"I caught hold of the reins at once. I've always been fond of horses,
+and I suppose they know it. Anyhow, directly I began stroking his nose,
+he stopped dancing round.</p>
+
+<p>"'You are ill, sir,' I said.</p>
+
+<p>"And your grandfather gasped—</p>
+
+<p>"'It's my confounded heart! I shall be all right in a minute; but I
+can't mount till this attack is over.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You mustn't mount at all,' I said decidedly. 'We're not very far from
+Mrs. Bonnycott's. I will lead the horse, if you think you can follow
+slowly on foot; or will you sit down and wait here, and I'll take the
+horse on and come back for you?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I'll rest a bit, and come on. I know my way,' he said.</p>
+
+<p>"He's a plucky old gentleman, isn't he? I saw he was in agony, but
+I could do nothing. I longed to be able to ride, for I should have
+galloped away for assistance at once. But I hurried as much as I could.
+I made him comfortable at the foot of a tree, left him my golf cape to
+sit upon, as I know the old have to be wary of getting rheumatism. I
+was never more thankful in my life than when I got my fiery steed safe
+into the stable and left him in charge of the groom. Then I made them
+turn out the low pony-trap with lightning speed, and the groom came
+with me.</p>
+
+<p>"We found your grandfather rather bad. I'd brought some brandy in a
+flask, and we gave him some, and then we lifted him into the trap and
+drove him gently here. Mrs. Bonnycott was a trump—didn't fuss—sent
+for the doctor, and we got him to bed, where he has been ever since.
+Dr. Lancaster says he might have collapsed altogether. He had been
+straining his heart a good bit, trying to manage his steed, and then
+this attack followed. He had another attack last night, and I'm afraid
+he won't be right for some time. But he's wild to get home, and the
+doctor says he must be humoured as much as possible. It's rather funny
+I should be the one to find him, eh? I don't think he knows who I am;
+but he and I are quite pals—I sat up with him—and he turns to me as if
+I'm a nurse."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor grandfather! Oh, I hope it's nothing serious. I know his heart
+has been weak for a long time."</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Lancaster says he ought to have given up hunting long ago. He
+warned him against it. He said he was trying to kill himself. But he
+told me—and I think you ought to know—that your grandfather will never
+be able to ride or hunt again. 'He's done for himself at last,' he
+said."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Nellie, how awful!" Damaris's cheeks blanched. "If he knows it,
+the news is enough to kill him."</p>
+
+<p>"But he doesn't know it, and we needn't tell him at present."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was almost stunned by the bad news. She knew better than Nellie
+how large a part of her grandfather's life was devoted to his horses.
+And she hardly dared think about his feelings when he knew his fate.</p>
+
+<p>She talked on to Nellie in a desultory sort of fashion. Her heart and
+thoughts were with her grandfather upon his sick bed.</p>
+
+<p>At last, Nellie left her, saying—</p>
+
+<p>"Brown, Mrs. Bonnycott's maid, is sitting with him—she's very useful in
+illness. I will see if he is still sleeping."</p>
+
+<p>She returned almost immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along. He is awake and would like to see you. Be quite cheerful,
+won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris did not feel very cheerful, but she managed to give Sir Mark
+one of her sweet smiles as she stooped to kiss him.</p>
+
+<p>"It is bad luck," she said, "but you look very comfortable."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark tried to raise his head, then dropped it on the pillow again.</p>
+
+<p>"This fool of a doctor is drugging me—I know he is—and it keeps me
+drowsy. Listen, Damaris. I'm coming back to-morrow, but I want you to
+see Blake to-morrow morning as usual, and tell him that I've considered
+Benton's offer to take over the six-acre field at Long Corner, and I'll
+let him have it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, grandfather; and don't worry about anything. I'll carry on till
+you come home."</p>
+
+<p>"And tell Dawkins to exercise Mercury daily. I broke him in a bit, but
+he needs a lot of riding." Then, after a pause, he said, "Are you alone
+in the room?"</p>
+
+<p>Nellie had been standing just inside the door. She now promptly
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we're alone," Damaris replied.</p>
+
+<p>"A wonderful sensible girl is staying here—who is she? For clear common
+sense she beats any woman I've known. She tackled Mercury as if she'd
+been used to horses all her life, and yet she can't ride. And she's
+nursed and looked after me like a professional. A nice voice too—low
+and clear and to the point in everything she says."</p>
+
+<p>"She's my cousin," said Damaris quietly. "Nellie Hartbrook."</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark gazed at her in silence for a moment, then he smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"You've scored a point!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad she was the one to help you, grandfather. I wanted you to
+know her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes—yes—well—character tells—sometimes more than name."</p>
+
+<p>He lay still after this. Then there was a little stir outside, and
+Barbara appeared.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris slipped away, for she knew he ought to be kept as quiet as
+possible. She told Nellie that her identity was now known, and they
+laughed over the little incident together.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Later on, Damaris returned home. Barbara looked at her with grave
+thoughtfulness as she wished her good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>"If Dr. Lancaster is right, you will have a trying time before you,
+Damaris," she said; "I know what father is like when he is laid up. He
+is a very bad patient. If you get into difficulties, wire for me, and
+I'll come over. In any case, I'll come and see how he is getting on in
+a few days' time. Symon understands him and loves nursing. Let him do
+it, father hates trained nurses."</p>
+
+<p>She gave her a few more directions.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris listened quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"I will do my best," she said, trying to speak cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>And then she went back to the Hall feeling that the sunshine across
+the common, the blue sky, the larks soaring up and trilling out their
+ecstatic songs were all a mockery when the old man who loved it all had
+received his death knell, and would never ride across the common any
+more.</p>
+
+<p>The Squire was driven home the next day in his own comfortable
+brougham; but he had to be carried to his bed, and for some weeks he
+was seriously ill. Then he slowly began to recover, and it was during
+his convalescence that Damaris felt the strain most.</p>
+
+<p>Barbara had been over continually, and Mrs. Dashwood had helped a
+good deal. The Squire was always glad to see her, and she had a most
+soothing effect upon him when he was impatient and irritable. But
+neither of them had the continual strain of keeping things going to his
+satisfaction, and it was on Damaris's shoulders that most of the burden
+rested.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing would satisfy Sir Mark. Sometimes he would send for his
+granddaughter to scold and complain and bemoan his useless existence.
+Nothing that she could do or say would be right; and if crossed in the
+slightest thing, he would give way to a fit of temper which agitated
+and increased his sufferings.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>One lovely afternoon, after a long morning in the sick-room, Damaris
+crept out into the garden feeling utterly spent and depressed. She
+turned into a shady walk, and reaching a secluded corner where a seat
+was placed under an old beech tree, she seated herself upon it, and
+indulged in a fit of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a failure," she assured herself; "I pray every day for patience,
+and every day I lose it. Grandfather does not like me. It is Aunt
+Barbara he needs, and she cannot always be here. And I make mistakes,
+and then, of course, he is angry. And if I show my feelings, and he
+thinks I am sorry for him, he gets angrier still. I don't know what to
+do, and how to talk to him!"</p>
+
+<p>She started. Steps were coming along the path, and then a certain
+whistle made her spring to her feet and dry her tears hastily. It was
+Stuart. It was not often he came over in the week, and she expressed
+surprise as she greeted him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "I've taken half a day off, and I wondered if you
+would like to come out for a ride."</p>
+
+<p>"I haven't ridden since grandfather's accident," said Damaris, a little
+colour stealing into her cheeks. "I shouldn't like to tell him that I
+had been doing it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but that's morbid. You are getting hipped. Don't turn your head
+away. I see there have been tears. Are things going wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris held her head up bravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I am tired and a little over-done. I don't think I could go out.
+Grandfather might want me."</p>
+
+<p>"But Symon tells me you have been with him all the morning, and that he
+is resting now."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but if he should wake and want me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then he could be told that you are out. My dear child, this is all
+wrong; you must have some time off. Now get into your habit, and I'll
+have your horse round. I insist! It's for the good of your health."</p>
+
+<p>He would take no denial.</p>
+
+<p>In a short time, Damaris was riding down the drive with him, and when
+they reached the common and met the fresh cool breezes across, she
+lifted up her face with a little gesture of delight.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart exerted himself to entertain her. He was always amusing and
+interesting, and he took her right away from herself and the atmosphere
+of the sick-room.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, she laughed outright.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Maitland, you're doing me a lot of good! I shall believe that
+there is some enjoyment left in the world, after all. You don't know
+how down I was to-day. Everything seemed grey and impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"And now you find that a ride in the open with a little fooling, has
+brought the sunshine back. You see how wise I was to drag you out!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is when I am alone I get in the dumps. I wish I had Mrs. Dashwood's
+joyousness, and—and yours. You are two of the happiest people I
+have ever seen. I don't think I was born happy. It isn't my natural
+temperament."</p>
+
+<p>"You're too much alone," said Stuart, looking at her sweet sensitive
+face, and realising how her present circumstances were telling upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"I have always been that—always," Damaris said.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent. Words that were burning on his tongue were kept back.
+This was neither the time nor season. He must wait. He rode back with
+her to the Hall.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll have another ride next week," he said. "Meanwhile keep your
+spirits up, and in bucking yourself up, you'll buck up the Squire, too!"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris nodded brightly as she left him, and went into the house.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon, Barbara arrived over. She went in and sat with her
+father for nearly an hour. Then she came downstairs, and Damaris and
+she had their tea together out on the terrace. Damaris was conscious
+that her aunt was criticising her appearance rather closely.</p>
+
+<p>"You're having a bad time, aren't you?" she said in her blunt downright
+fashion. "I think you must have somebody to stay with you. Have you no
+young friend who would come and keep you company?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris flushed and her eyes shone.</p>
+
+<p>"There is Nellie," she said; "but Mrs. Bonnycott could not spare her.
+And I'm afraid that Nellie feels obliged to go back to her work as soon
+as possible; she won't give it up. Her whole soul is in it, and, now
+she is rested, she says she must go. I am so glad grandfather likes
+her. Perhaps at some future time, he might let me have her here on a
+visit. But, Aunt Barbara, I know whom I would really like to have.
+It's a Miss Hardacre; she's a little deformed old lady, but I love her
+and she loves me, and she was so good to me in London that I would do
+anything I could for her."</p>
+
+<p>"Ask her down, by all means. She will do as chaperon, any way. If
+father says anything, tell him I think you ought to have one, though
+the race is nearly extinct nowadays. But now father is upstairs
+altogether, it is better you should have somebody with you. Is that
+young Lancaster over here much?"</p>
+
+<p>"No—never now. I don't see anyone except Mr. Maitland sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he is one of ourselves. I must be going, for the girls are home
+from school and they need a little supervision." Then, in a little
+burst of confidence, she added, "I'm not having a very good time
+myself. The girls have met Geoffrey Lancaster and want to see a lot of
+him, and their father objects; so I am acting the heavy stepmother and
+am encountering the same scowls that I used to treat my stepmother to.
+I see myself again in them so often. I was a brave woman to marry a
+widower."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very happy," said Damaris smiling. "I wish I had your calm and
+cheerful serenity, Aunt Barbara. I worry so, when things go wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"I see you do," said Barbara, looking at her gravely. "You are worrying
+yourself to fiddlestrings. And yet you gave me to understand some time
+ago that you had had some wonderful religious experience. Doesn't your
+religion help you?"</p>
+
+<p>Sudden tears filled Damaris's eyes. Then she said in a low tone—</p>
+
+<p>"I think if I had no religion, I should have run away long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"It's your habit to run away from difficulties, isn't it?" Barbara
+said, smiling. "I remember you ran away from your uncle's house when
+you first came here; and then you ran away from me just at the critical
+moment. Well, I'm glad you haven't deserted your post now. And I can
+tell you for your comfort that father told me just now that you do his
+business as well as ever I did, and that Blake told him that you'd a
+'wonderful head for figures.'"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris laughed, but could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Write to that old body this evening," Barbara added, "and get her to
+come to you at once."</p>
+
+<p>It was only when Barbara was leaving that she enlightened Damaris as to
+why she had come over this particular afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>"Stuart gave me such a bad account of you that I came off at once. He
+will be relieved, as well as myself, when you get your friend to come
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it is Mr. Maitland's concern," said Damaris, a little
+stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>"Stuff, child! Don't you know Stuart yet? He interferes with every man
+and woman he comes across. But I will say he generally leaves them the
+better for his interference!"</p>
+
+<p>And Damaris thought so too, when she went back to the house and wrote
+her letter to Miss Hardacre.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE LAST RIDE</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>"OH, I can't believe I've got you here! It's perfectly lovely to have
+you!"</p>
+
+<p>A radiant Damaris was hugging Miss Hardacre at the station. It was
+five o'clock, and a hot August afternoon. The sun blazed down upon the
+platform, and, to Damaris's eyes, Miss Hardacre looked white and weary
+and smaller than ever. She had come herself to meet her in the brougham.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not quite sure whether I'm dreaming or not," said Miss Hardacre,
+with her whimsical smile.</p>
+
+<p>And then when she was settled in the carriage and a soft cushion
+stuffed behind her back, she put her hand caressingly on Damaris's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear child, how sweet of you to have me! I can hardly believe it even
+now. And you're looking just the same. I have never lost sight of your
+small dark head and tiny oval face and your great starry eyes. I have
+sometimes shut my eyes and fancied you sitting beside me—but, oh, I was
+so thankful that you were not. I don't think you would have thrived in
+London this hot summer."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you have not. A rim seems taken off you everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris talked away gaily. Her heart ached for this old friend of
+hers—so small and frail and feeble—and she resolved to do all she could
+to make her happy and comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre continued to feel in a dream—the cool shady drawing-room
+with its lovely flowers, the delicious tea awaiting them; and then
+the going up the old oak stairs, along a soft-carpeted corridor, to a
+lovely bed-room with a couch drawn near to the open window, and outside
+a view of the common with its purple heather stretching away to the
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>When Damaris insisted upon tucking her up on the couch, and leaving her
+there to rest from her journey, tears of joy stole down the withered
+cheeks, and she murmured to herself—</p>
+
+<p>"It almost makes me believe in a loving God again to be blessed like
+this."</p>
+
+<p>When Sir Mark saw his granddaughter's friend, he smiled grimly to
+himself. But before many days had passed, he grew to look for the old
+lady's visits to him.</p>
+
+<p>"She has a mind," he told Damaris; "and she's a highly-respectable
+chaperon for you."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's cares set lightly on her now. The very fact that she had
+somebody to talk over all the worrying little details of her busy life
+made them seem insignificant.</p>
+
+<p>She drove Miss Hardacre out in the low pony-cart across the common
+and along the lovely country lanes. She settled her in a cushioned
+arm-chair under the old beech trees upon the velvet lawn with her books
+and work, and left her there when she was occupied with her grandfather
+or with the bailiff in the study.</p>
+
+<p>And after dinner, they would sit out on the terrace watching the moon
+rise, and talk of many things.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, soon after Miss Hardacre came, Damaris touched on her
+new-born happiness of soul.</p>
+
+<p>"You told me you had lost all your faith," she said softly; "I do want
+you to get it back again. It is all true, all real. Christ is living
+to-day with us all, and He makes His power felt. I suppose troubles
+are like big clouds hiding the sun, but the sun is there all the time.
+And God is watching us all, and holds the world in the hollow of His
+hand, and loves us through all our disbelief and want of faith, and
+indifference and rebellion. Oh, Miss Hardacre dear—I shall never rest
+till you get God's peace and love filling your heart."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre listened with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"I have loved your letters," she said; "but I am old and it seems too
+late. Enthusiasm and fire come so easily to the young—I am weary and
+care-worn."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris turned upon her with shining eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And didn't our Lord speak to the old and weary when He said,—</p>
+
+<p class="letter">
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"'Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will
+give you rest.'"<br>
+<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>The old familiar words seemed to strike Miss Hardacre in a new fresh
+sense. She murmured them over to herself, and, when she went to bed
+that night, got out her little Bible, which was so seldom used by her,
+and turned up the verse, reading it again and again.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next day was Sunday. Was it by chance that Stuart, sitting down at
+the piano after tea, began playing, "Oh, Rest in the Lord."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre leant back in her chair. As a girl, she had sung the
+refrain, and every word hammered itself against her brain as he played.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart took to her at once, as he did to most old people. In her
+presence, he teased Damaris in a happy light-hearted fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hartbrook is very atmospheric, isn't she?" he said. "I call her
+'Miss Barometer' sometimes, but she doesn't like it."</p>
+
+<p>"She 'is' susceptible to atmosphere," said Miss Hardacre.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you wouldn't discuss me before my face," said Damaris a little
+petulantly. "I should like to have Aunt Barbara's unmoved calm, and
+your light-heartedness, Mr. Maitland, and Miss Hardacre's philosophical
+endurance. But I don't seem able to arrive at any of those virtues."</p>
+
+<p>"You're too thin-skinned," said Stuart, looking at her with an amused
+gleam in his eyes. "I've been with your grandfather this afternoon, and
+he's been railing at everything in creation, but I don't come out of
+his room with my forehead a network of wrinkles and my eyes misty with
+tears. My tough skin protects me from that. I only feel sorry for the
+old chap, and try to buck him up all I can!"</p>
+
+<p>"Men are different from women," said Miss Hardacre cheerily. "But you
+must remember that you only make occasional visits to the Squire,
+whilst Damaris spends the greater part of each day with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," said Damaris, "grandfather may growl a little with you,
+but he doesn't make you feel that everything in the house and stables
+and village and all the estate is going to rack and ruin through your
+ignorant mistakes."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," Miss Hardacre said; "since I have been here, you have
+certainly been neither wrinkled nor misty with tears."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"How could I, when I have you to come to? You always understand."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart looked from one to the other of them and marvelled at the
+friendship that existed between them.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone, Miss Hardacre said—</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Maitland is a great friend of yours."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he says he won't be. He doesn't like being friends with me. He
+told me so."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he wants to be something more."</p>
+
+<p>A pink flush came into Damaris's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, no! He treats me as he does everyone else: He said once that
+he was interested in every human being on this earth. I think he is. He
+befriends them all, if he won't call himself their friend."</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Hardacre had eyes in her head, and arrived at her own
+conclusions.</p>
+
+<p>Nellie came over to lunch with them one day; but she was really
+leaving Fallerton. She had not seen very much of Damaris since her
+grandfather's accident. Mrs. Bonnycott kept her always busy, and did
+not like her to be away much from her.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm awfully fond of the old lady," Nellie said; "but I tell her that
+she must get someone more fitted for an easy billet than I am. I love
+grappling with difficulties, and honestly I like coming in contact with
+men best, and with men's brains—I'm accustomed to them."</p>
+
+<p>"But you see Mr. Maitland and Mr. Lancaster nearly every day."</p>
+
+<p>"They have their work and I have mine. Well, Damaris, I'm glad to have
+seen you in your proper setting. You're no town lover, nor would you
+ever make a good town worker. All your people and friends are worth
+knowing. Did I tell you I had made acquaintance with Mr. Gore and his
+sisters? How the women in that house tyrannise over the man! He and I
+have got quite chummy over beetle lore. I'm interested in all insect
+life, and I've recommended him a book in the British Museum. Told him
+to leave his sisters and come up to town for a bit; I believe he means
+to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you really leaving in a few days?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; this is my farewell. I bear you no malice for stealing my friend
+and placing her down here, but I shall miss her most awfully in town."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Miss Hardacre, "I shall soon be back again; I am only here
+for a visit."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Damaris; "I don't mean to lose you in a hurry. Nellie will
+have to come and stay with us next Christmas, when she gets a holiday.
+Grandfather will like to see her again, I know."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>So Nellie left, and the summer slowly passed. Sir Mark, after a time,
+improved in health and spirits. He was able to come downstairs again,
+and take short walks, and often allowed Damaris to drive him out in the
+low pony-trap; but riding was strictly forbidden by his doctors. Sir
+Mark often talked of buying a motor, but he had always been so devoted
+to his horses that he still postponed their substitute.</p>
+
+<p>As the hunting season drew near, he grew more and more depressed.</p>
+
+<p>One day he sent for Dawkins, the head groom, and told him that he would
+have his favourite hunter, "Rajah" by name, shot.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't have him sold. He isn't fit for a lady, and I don't want
+anyone else to ride him."</p>
+
+<p>Dawkins remonstrated in vain. Damaris pleaded that he might be turned
+out on grass, but the Squire was obdurate.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the morning when the deed was to be done, Sir Mark gave his orders
+that Rajah was to be saddled and brought round to the front door.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to bid him good-bye," he said shortly.</p>
+
+<p>He was sitting out on the terrace when groom and horse appeared.
+Damaris had been reading the newspaper to him, but she had seen that
+he was in an over-wrought state of mind, and knew that his thoughts
+were with his beloved hunter. She longed that the farewell between them
+was over. Rajah was a beautiful black horse, and sincerely attached to
+his master. Now, as he came prancing up the drive, he turned his head
+quickly from side to side as if looking for him.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Mark got up from his seat when he saw him, and slowly descended the
+broad stone steps. A little impatient whinny came from Rajah when he
+caught sight of the Squire. He advanced a step and thrust out his nose.
+The Squire stroked it affectionately.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll never go hunting again, old boy," he said, under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>Dawkins turned away his head. Damaris wondered if his eyes, like her
+own, were misty with tears.</p>
+
+<p>Then a sudden quick movement on the part of the Squire, and the next
+moment his foot was in the stirrup, and he was in the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris gave a little gasp.</p>
+
+<p>"Get me my hat, there's a good girl. I'm going to walk him down the
+drive for the last time."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please don't. Remember what Dr. Lancaster said."</p>
+
+<p>The Squire frowned, but then nodded smilingly to his granddaughter,
+and, afraid of exciting him, Damaris obediently fetched his hat.</p>
+
+<p>"You will go slowly, won't you? He seems too fresh for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Rajah and I understand each other," was the quick reply.</p>
+
+<p>Then she signed to Dawkins to follow close behind. The old groom had
+a mixture of fright and admiration in his eyes as he gave Damaris
+a reassuring nod. She watched Rajah curvetting a little at first,
+then quieting down under the well-known hand of his master. A sudden
+presentiment of evil seemed to fall upon her. She stood upon the
+terrace gazing at the pathetic sight of the old man taking his last
+ride. She knew now that when he gave orders for Rajah to be saddled
+that he had planned this farewell ride. But the slow pace which he was
+going and the close proximity of Dawkins behind reassured her.</p>
+
+<p>And then there was the sudden sound of a horn. Damaris remembered that
+the beagles were having a run, but it affected Rajah like a spark
+dropped in gunpowder. He raised his head, and was off down the long
+drive at a canter. Whether her grandfather spurred him on, or failed to
+pull him in, Damaris never knew. She saw Dawkins break into a run, and
+then they disappeared from her sight. She dashed into the hall, calling
+to Miss Hardacre and to Symons.</p>
+
+<p>The old butler wrung his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't up to it! The master isn't up to it! He had one of his
+attacks last night, when I was helping him to bed. May God bring him
+back safely!"</p>
+
+<p>And Damaris re-echoed that prayer with heart-felt earnestness. It
+hardly seemed a few minutes before the tramping of hoofs was heard, and
+Rajah cantered up the drive carrying the Squire on his back. Damaris
+drew a long breath of relief, but her face changed when she saw the
+blue-grey face of her grandfather. He seemed struggling for breath, and
+had one hand pressed against his side. Symons lifted him gently off.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris went to the other side of him to help him up the steps, but it
+seemed to her that he was a dead weight in Symon's arms. They got him
+into the hall, and other servants came forward at once, and together
+carried him upstairs and laid him on his bed. Once he looked up, and
+Damaris caught some husky muttered words. They were—</p>
+
+<p>"May God have mercy on me."</p>
+
+<p>The doctor was sent for at once, but before he arrived, Sir Mark had
+quietly passed away.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris heard from Dawkins afterwards the details of that ill-fated
+ride. He had followed on foot as fast as he could. The Squire did not
+seem to have the strength to check Rajah's pace. They passed out by the
+gates on the high road. Rajah, with head up, was making for the fields
+where the beagles were hunting, but Sir Mark realised that he could go
+no further, and with determined effort brought Rajah to a standstill,
+and turned him back towards home. It was that effort that cost him his
+life.</p>
+
+<p>At first, Damaris could not realise it, then she, with a
+self-possession at which Miss Hardacre marvelled, began to do all that
+was necessary, sending wires to the different members of the family.
+Stuart Maitland, as usual, reached her first. Bad news travels fast,
+and the whole of Marley knew of the Squire's death half-an-hour after
+it had occurred.</p>
+
+<p>He came into the library where Damaris was sitting at the
+writing-table, and she turned round to greet him with a white strained
+face, yet with a gleam of relief in her eyes at the sight of him.
+Holding out both hands to him she exclaimed—</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how good of you to come! You're always at hand when help is
+needed."</p>
+
+<p>"How did it happen?" he asked, holding her hands very tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris told him briefly.</p>
+
+<p>"His family will blame me, but I could not prevent it. It was natural
+that he should wish to say good-bye to his hunter; and how could I
+imagine what he had determined to do?" Tears began to drop, but she
+resolutely wiped them away. "There is much to do," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but not for you," said Stuart in his friendly way. "I will do
+what I can till his sons arrive; and if you have wired to Barbara, she
+will be here at once."</p>
+
+<p>Barbara came in her husband's car an hour later. She felt her father's
+death acutely; but it was not her way to show her feelings. She
+reassured Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"If I had been here, it would have been the same. No one could have
+prevented him. And it was so characteristic of him, to determine on
+his action, and carry it out so promptly. He has always said to me
+that riding a horse would strain his heart no more than sitting in a
+chair—in fact, that he was more accustomed to a seat in the saddle than
+anywhere else. He would not believe in the danger."</p>
+
+<p>The rest of that day seemed like a dream to Damaris. Later on, she
+stood out on the terrace alone, trying to realise that her grandfather
+had really left her. And it was there that Stuart found her when he
+came to wish her good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>"I am off," he said. "I've promised Barbara to come over whenever
+she wants me. She is sleeping here, she tells me, and you have Miss
+Hardacre, so you will not be alone."</p>
+
+<p>Then Damaris turned to him, and her grey eyes were very wistful and sad.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mr. Maitland, where is he? I have been thinking of that other
+country. But it seems so sudden, so awfully tragic. Last Sunday, he
+asked me to read him the Psalms and lessons—he said he missed church
+so; but somehow or other I found it so difficult to talk. But I did
+tell him about myself, and he did not laugh at me. I suppose he knew
+when his ride was over that he was done for. He said, 'May God have
+mercy upon me.' He has always been so reserved on religious subjects."</p>
+
+<p>Stuart smiled his usual cheery smile.</p>
+
+<p>"We must leave him with his Creator, Who knew him better than either
+you or I. And don't fret, you poor little thing! It has been a heavy
+blow, hasn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't pity me, or I shall cry, and I want to keep up so as to be able
+to help Aunt Barbara all I can."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris held her head up bravely, and Stuart shook hands with her and
+went.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>All Sir Mark's sons came to his funeral, and Ella accompanied her
+husband. Damaris felt from the moment that she entered the house that
+she intended to show all that she was mistress there.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris herself kept upstairs as much as possible. She and Miss
+Hardacre sat in her little boudoir most of the day. After the funeral
+was over and the will had been read and discussed, the house resumed
+its normal state. Sir Herbert and his wife went back to their home in
+the North, but before they went, Ella had a talk with Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall return as soon as possible, of course," she said. "But I
+shall be glad if you will remain here and keep things going till we do
+come back. We shall sell our present house; but I have some furniture
+that I want to bring, and we have many arrangements to make up North
+which may delay us. What are your plans? I was wondering if you would
+like to stay on with us? Bobbie and Lucia are so fond of you, that if
+you would make yourself useful, and take them to a couple of hours'
+lessons every morning, we should be very glad for you to still live
+here. They are too small for a proper governess, and are just getting
+beyond their nurse, who spoils them."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris did not speak for a moment, then she said, with that quiet
+dignity of hers—</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be very glad to stay here till you are ready to take
+possession; but I do not think I can do so afterwards. I have hardly
+formulated my plans yet. May I write and let you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please yourself. I should have thought you would have only
+been too glad to have a home with us. A girl like you is at a great
+disadvantage if you try to live alone. I know the Squire has left you
+that tiny Dower House at Park Corner and five hundred pounds a year of
+your own, hasn't he? But you can't live there alone; and even if you
+take your little old hunchback friend there, you would never have such
+social advantages as you would in living with us."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris could hardly forbear smiling. She pictured herself turned into
+a nursery governess, and at the beck and call of her aunt all day long.
+She knew how she worked her long-suffering nurse. Young Lady Murray was
+a woman who invariably made demands on all around her; and even in her
+short stay at the Hall the previous Christmas had used Damaris as much
+as she dared in contributing towards her comfort and ease.</p>
+
+<p>"I will let you know when I have talked over things with Aunt Barbara,"
+Damaris replied quietly; "meanwhile, thank you very much for your
+offer."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>Barbara laughed when Damaris repeated the conversation to her.</p>
+
+<p>"You would be miserable with Ella. I am sorry for you, Damaris, to have
+lost your home so soon; but I wonder sometimes if you have appreciated
+it as much as I did. You talked so lightly of leaving it and getting
+work elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I didn't feel lightly about it," cried Damaris; "I only felt I
+didn't want to lead a lazy luxurious life when there is so much to be
+done in the world. And, of course, the longer one lives here, the more
+one gets to love it. I little thought, with you, what a short time I
+should be in it. But I could not stay with Aunt Ella unless I saw it
+was my duty to do so, and I can't see that. I don't quite know what to
+do. It seems difficult."</p>
+
+<p>She went off to Mrs. Dashwood to ask for advice, and it was given very
+gently and lovingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be in a hurry, dear. The way will be opened when it is time, and
+if your lot is to be cast amongst the stay-at-homes, you will be happy
+there, I know. Dr. Lancaster was talking to me about you the other day.
+He does not think you over-strong, and I know would not pass you for
+mission work abroad, or for any strenuous work at home."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be so idle at the Dower House," murmured Damaris
+disconsolately. "Aunt Barbara has suggested my staying with her, but I
+don't quite like to do so. I'm not wanted anywhere now."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait and see," said Mrs. Dashwood brightly. "I don't think you will be
+kept waiting long. We can all do God's Will wherever we are. And that
+is our chief duty, is it not?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris returned home with comfort in her heart. It was not her way to
+fret over the inevitable, and perhaps it was fortunate for her that she
+was kept very busy with household arrangements.</p>
+
+<p>The arrival of her uncle and aunt with a young family caused a good
+deal of alteration in the house, and she had promised to prepare for
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hardacre suggested that she should move at once into Mrs. Patch's
+lodgings, but Damaris would not hear of it.</p>
+
+<p>"We will go to the Dower House together. Grandfather has left me so
+comfortably off that I shall be in no anxiety about money. Everybody
+tells me I want a rest, so I can have it there."</p>
+
+<p>So, for the time, Miss Hardacre stayed on with her. She, as well as
+others, had noted how white and fragile the girl was looking. Her
+grandfather's illness had been a long and severe strain, and she had
+never been very strong.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<h2><a id="Chapter_18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2>
+
+<p class="t3">
+<b>THE RIGHT HOME APPEARS</b><br>
+</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>ONE autumn afternoon, Damaris took the dogs out for a run over the
+common. The heather was dying, but the golden bracken and the late
+gorse seemed to gild the scene, and the trees in their deep red and
+russet brown foliage were a real joy to Damaris. She was standing by a
+group of hawthorns, when she was startled by a voice close to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>It was Stuart. He was striding over the ground at a rapid rate.</p>
+
+<p>"So glad to see you out," he said. "Weather conditions better, eh?
+Rising fair, I should say."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris laughed, as she always did when he alluded to her barometrical
+tendencies, as he called them.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I am feeling it is good to be alive this afternoon. What are
+you doing out here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was coming over to see you," he said in a very quiet tone. "I made
+up my mind to do it last night, and the thought of it kept me awake all
+night."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what a pity you thought of it at all," said Damaris laughing.
+"Have you any very unpleasant business to transact with me?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her rather searchingly, but a smile was in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Now what kind of unpleasant business could I want to transact with
+you?" he asked her. "You are looking better—not such an ethereal
+phantom as when I saw you last. How is Miss Hardacre?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very fit."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you and she going to set up housekeeping together?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think we are. I don't quite know." Damaris's eyes were dreamy as she
+spoke. "She thinks I would be more free without her, but I don't like
+living alone; I have had too much of it. And I'm inclined to wonder why
+I am turned out of one home after the other. It seems to be my fate,
+but, of course, it's all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Well now, I am sure you have had a lot of suggestions from everyone.
+And I want you to listen to mine, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked up at him, and then as suddenly looked away. His eyes
+revealed too much.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to offer you a home," he said abruptly. "Shall we make one
+together?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris caught her breath. Then she said slowly, but with lifted head—</p>
+
+<p>"It is very kind and good of you. But I ought not to have insinuated
+that I was homeless. Aunt Barbara has asked me to stay with her, and
+Aunt Ella wants me to live with her."</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you understand me?" said Stuart quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Damaris in the same slow way, "I do. You lay awake last
+night filled with pity for one of your many friends—you see, I call
+myself your friend—and you wondered if you could offer me the home you
+thought I was in need of—and now you have done it. And I am grateful,
+though I must decline it."</p>
+
+<p>"You are talking nonsense!" Stuart said hotly. Then he added, "I beg
+your pardon. Mine is not a business proposal. I have started the wrong
+end. And as for pity—I may have that; but it is love that has kept me
+awake all night. Didn't I tell you I did not want to be your friend?
+I want to be your lover, no other role will suit me. You are such a
+dainty remote little creature, so quick to resent undue familiarity, so
+sensitive to hasty words, that I have gone slowly, trying to discover
+your mind. And now I'm in absolute suspense as to how you regard me.
+As a useful friend and neighbour, eh? I flatter myself that you have
+some small liking for me, but whether there's something still waiting
+for me below the surface is the problem. It isn't a home I want to give
+you—it's my heart and life; and I want to have yours."</p>
+
+<p>He had stopped walking by her side, and had now swung round in front of
+her, holding her hands as if he never meant to let them go.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris's colour came and went, her lips quivered, she seemed as if she
+were about to cry, and then she looked up into his face, and a soft
+little sigh escaped her.</p>
+
+<p>"You can have it," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>It was just as well that they were in a lonely part of the common, as
+Stuart took her right in his arms then and there.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this is bliss!" he said at last.</p>
+
+<p>And then Damaris laughed, she could not help it. There was something so
+naïve and boyish in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't understand your wanting me," she said presently. "You have so
+many women friends, and I always feel very young and ignorant when I'm
+with you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are the only person who inspires me with a feeling of doubtful
+uncertainty and of diffidence," said Stuart with a twinkle in his eyes.
+"I haven't been able to keep away from you, but I've always pretended
+to be very self-assured and grandfatherly in my remarks, when in
+reality I have been trembling in my shoes!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he tucked her hand into his arm. "Oh, let us walk over the hills
+and far away! I want to be alone with you in the world. Damaris,
+sweetest, how long has your heart been mine? Let's make our confessions
+one to the other. Do you remember when we first saw each other? You
+were sitting by the roadside and Barbara and I passed you; and then I
+saw you in church on the Sunday, and I said to myself,—</p>
+
+<p>"'If ever I have a wife, she must look just like that.'</p>
+
+<p>"And your proud little face stamped itself then and there on my heart.
+Then we met you coming across the common, and I saw you once or twice
+after that; the third or fourth time I was introduced to you at the
+Rectory; and then the day you were running off—at the station; do you
+remember? What a state I was in when Barbara told me who you were
+supposed to be! I went up to town, and felt I would never give up
+looking for you till I had found you.</p>
+
+<p>"How angry you were with me when we met! I was determined to get you
+down into these parts again. And all this year, I've been looking
+forward to the moment which is now with us. But doubts and fears have
+beset me, and it wasn't till Barbara was talking with me yesterday that
+I determined to put my fortune to the test. Why didn't you let me see
+just a tiny bit that you cared for me?"</p>
+
+<p>"How could I?" said Damaris, with a soft glow in her eyes. "How can
+any girl show her feelings before she knows that a man cares for her?
+Only some days ago, when you last came over and played so exquisitely
+before—before our trouble, I thought to myself, as I sat listening to
+you, 'I would give all the world to be able to have the right to go
+over to him and put my arms round his neck and thank him.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall do it," murmured Stuart ecstatically; "next time I'm at the
+piano, you shall do it, and I shall demand two very soft kisses then
+and there."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris paid no attention to this interruption.</p>
+
+<p>"And then," she continued, "I felt it would be quite impossible to
+expect you to care more for me than for anyone else, and people always
+said of you that you were friendly with everyone."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you think I came over so often? It was not to see your
+grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that was just habit. You used to come and see Aunt Barbara;
+and as you were friendly with her, I thought you meant to be friendly
+with me."</p>
+
+<p>"I have been a laggard wooer," said Stuart in a contrite tone. "I have
+always been steeling my heart to wait until I had some inclination from
+you to encourage me. And you never gave it."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are positively sure that you are not offering me a house out
+of pity?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now stand still and look into my eyes, and say whether it is pity or
+love you see there."</p>
+
+<p>In this way they talked, like all lovers do, and eventually came to the
+Hall together.</p>
+
+<p>"Is Miss Hardacre in?" Damaris asked Symons a little nervously.</p>
+
+<p>She felt self-conscious, being afraid of betraying her happiness to all
+who saw her.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am, and her ladyship is with her."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Aunt Barbara has come over. What shall we do?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned a pretty appealing face towards Stuart.</p>
+
+<p>"Do?" he said. "Await their congratulations. I want to proclaim it from
+the house-top. Come along in; I will do all the talking for you."</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>And so they went in to tell their news, Damaris feeling very shy but
+almost dazed by her sudden happiness. To her the whole aspect of the
+world had changed within the last hour.</p>
+
+<p>Barbara was sitting by the library fire talking to Miss Hardacre. They
+both looked up as Damaris and Stuart came in, and both knew before they
+were told what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>"My promised wife," said Stuart proudly.</p>
+
+<p>And then Damaris made a quick step forward, and the next moment was
+kneeling beside her aunt's chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Aunt Barbara, I hope you approve! I hope you'll be pleased! It has
+happened so suddenly that I hardly realise it."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, I've hoped that it would come off for some time. I
+knew where Stuart's heart was, but I could not be quite sure about
+yours. You are a very reserved little mortal, you know, and most Early
+Victorian in your sense of decorum and propriety."</p>
+
+<p>"She's everything that is perfect in my eyes," said Stuart; "so please
+spare your criticism. I don't know whether Miss Hardacre thinks me good
+enough for her darling."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Miss Hardacre, smiling, "I always felt you would be the man
+from the first day that I saw you. And I hoped that nothing would come
+between you."</p>
+
+<p>"There, you see," Damaris said, trying to speak lightly, "everybody
+seems to have settled it for us beforehand, so I must side with the
+majority."</p>
+
+<p>But she felt nearer tears than laughter, and when Stuart eventually
+departed, she slipped up to her room and locked the door. She wanted
+quiet thought, for the sudden joy had unnerved her. She could
+acknowledge to herself now, without any feelings of shame, that her
+love for Stuart had come many months before. It had been a continual
+struggle to repress it and ignore it. It had been simply happiness to
+be in the same room with him, to hear him speak, to watch his every
+movement. And when he had condoled with her over her grandfather's
+death, she had very nearly shown her feelings.</p>
+
+<p>Stuart's cheeriness, high spirits and his wonderful talents, especially
+for music, had drawn from her the highest admiration. But it was the
+little serious touches, the deep feeling that he sometimes betrayed
+that had appealed to her most. Her girlish heart was attracted by his
+good looks and charming personality; but her spirit was drawn to his by
+the love and faith they had together in the Unseen.</p>
+
+<p>And Damaris knelt beside her window, and, gazing up into the fast
+darkening sky, she whispered her thanks to the One Who held her life
+and soul in His keeping.</p>
+
+<p>Barbara and Stuart had left the house together, so when Damaris came
+downstairs, she found Miss Hardacre alone in the fire-lit library. She
+gave a little sigh of relief as she nestled down by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Now we can have a chat together," she said. "It will alter my whole
+life, won't it? And I'm afraid yours too. He will not hear of me going
+to the Dower House."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Miss Hardacre cheerfully, "I am too delighted for you,
+dear, to care about anything else. But I am seriously thinking of
+going to Mrs. Patch's lodgings. I shall be so very happy there. Do you
+remember we talked about it when you were first coming down here to
+live? I have been several times to see that old Mrs. Patch since you
+first introduced me to her, and I feel I should love to live under the
+same roof with her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Damaris thoughtfully; "I believe you would be comfortable
+and cosy there—I was. And we'll add some things to the sitting-room—a
+more comfortable arm-chair and cushions, and a few other little
+comforts. You won't regret the town in the winter, will you? You won't
+be dull?"</p>
+
+<p>"Compare it with the Bayswater boarding-house," said Miss Hardacre,
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked into the fire dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>"We are going ahead, aren't we?" she said. "Stuart has no home of his
+own, and we may not be married for ages—though he wants to hurry it on.
+Aunt Barbara wants me to go and stay with her now; but she would love
+to have you too. You will come, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shouldn't think of it," said Miss Hardacre in her decisive little
+way. "I am not going to drag on to your heels everywhere. No; I shall
+go round to-morrow and make my arrangements with the Patches. When you
+leave this, I will go there, and I shall go joyfully."</p>
+
+<p>Then one of her old wrinkled hands touched Damaris's curly head with
+great tenderness. "I want to tell you, child, that I am like the blind
+man in the Bible. My sight is slowly coming to me. I see 'men as trees
+walking.'"</p>
+
+<p>"How?" Damaris asked softly.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose we none of us have the same experience. You in your youth
+and innocence, have 'lifted the latch,' as you told me, and walked in.
+I am like a shut-up darkened house, that doesn't realise its dust and
+decay till the light creeps in. And it's a very slow process with me.
+My eyes are old and dim, and unbelieving even of what they're beginning
+to see; but the light is coming slowly, and old Mrs. Patch is as good
+as any pulpit preacher. You will think of me as enjoying mental food
+and comfort there as well as physical."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Miss Hardacre!" Damaris gave her a little hug.</p>
+
+<p>The entrance of Symons to close the shutters put an end to their
+conversation. But Damaris felt greatly comforted about her friend, and
+no longer made objections to her lodging with the Patches.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>The next day, Mrs. Bonnycott arrived over with her congratulations.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say you knew it was coming," said Damaris, smiling as she
+welcomed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't sit down and make up matches! And Stuart has given me
+many false alarms. But I shall miss the boy when he leaves me. I'm not
+satisfied with Geoffrey Lancaster, and he was simply rude to me when
+I told him the news: said he didn't believe it. My dear, where are
+you going to live? I wouldn't trust Stuart; he has such extraordinary
+ideas. He says people in our class are now suffering from our
+luxurious ideas of what is necessary to comfort. That they don't want
+half-a-dozen sitting-rooms, and everyone ought to start with a small
+house and add to it as their families grow. He will be taking one of
+these model cottages he is building, and planting you in one. He has no
+sense of proportion.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope he'll make you a good husband. I suppose you know what he is
+like? Has too big a heart, I tell him, takes in too many people and
+interests into his life. I wonder how much of his heart and life and
+time will now be set apart for you? Very little, I fear. But this
+doesn't sound like congratulations. Well, I'm glad you're going to
+settle down among us, and he ought—I've told him so—to be really
+grateful to you for accepting him. You're the prettiest girl in the
+county, and one of the pleasantest, too!" Mrs. Bonnycott paused for
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris was accustomed to her rambling talk, and happy to mind anything
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I would live in a garret with Stuart!" she declared. "And
+wouldn't we make it snug and cheery! Wherever we are, I could never be
+unhappy. Stuart always drives away gloom. He carries about with him a
+spring of joy bubbling up inside. It's like living with the sun shining
+on one all day long."</p>
+
+<p>"And very unpleasant that is!" said Mrs. Bonnycott with emphasis. "Oh,
+you young people are all the same. You think life together will be
+heaven on earth, and then later, you are disillusioned."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bonnycott had never quite forgiven her nephew for giving up his
+agency. And Damaris knew it and understood.</p>
+
+<p><br></p>
+
+<p>But when she saw Stuart next, she linked her arm in his and asked him
+earnestly—</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think we shall both be disappointed and disillusioned a few
+years later? Your aunt prophesies that we shall."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she's in a proper stew over our engagement. I don't think there's
+the smallest chance of it, because we've seen enough of each other to
+know what to expect."</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly know how moody I am," said Damaris, "for you have found
+me in the dumps so often."</p>
+
+<p>"And you know how aggressively cheerful I am," said Stuart. "I have
+heard it said that a cheerful person at the breakfast table is one of
+the greatest bores in creation. And you'll have patience with all my
+plans and projects. You 'will' be the centre of my life, sweetheart—you
+are that now; but there will be crowds of people and things outside
+you, that will keep me busy. I'm made that way—I can't help it."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you'll let me help you with some of it," said Damaris.</p>
+
+<p>They were in the library together. Stuart moved across to the piano.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll play you a serenade," he said, "of my own composition, to show
+you just a morsel of what is in my heart for you."</p>
+
+<p>In another moment he was making the piano speak, as only he could make
+it. Damaris listened, entranced. She seemed carried into another world
+when he played. Passion and love vibrated through her. And when the
+last throbbing notes had died away, he looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>"Now come and thank me in a proper manner," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Damaris went up, and with her arms about his neck and a soft shy kiss
+on his brow, Stuart was more than content.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you could make me do anything you like with your music," she
+said; "and when I'm cross and sad, I shall always have you at hand to
+charm me into happiness again."</p>
+
+<p>"And now, when is the happy day to be?" Stuart asked taking out of his
+pocket a minute box, and producing an exquisite diamond and sapphire
+ring. "This is a forerunner of the real thing," he added, taking her
+hand in his and slipping the ring on her finger. "Why it fits as if it
+had been made for you. It is my mother's ring—her betrothal one. Do you
+like it? Blue stones suit you. I like you in blue. I should like you to
+wear nothing else."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I love it!" said Damaris, the colour mounting in her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"And when is the little plain gold one going on?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. You are going too fast. You make me breathless."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to wait, my darling. We have seen each other continually
+for over a year. There is nothing to wait for. And I have found our
+home."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris looked up at him with interest at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming round in a car to take you to it to-morrow, if fine. You
+must prepare yourself to spend a long day with me. It isn't a caravan
+or a barge, as my aunt imagines. It is a quaint old farm-house with
+walled garden. It is small enough to be snug, and big enough to be
+roomy. And if you approve, we will have it done up at once, and start
+our life together as quickly as possible. I want this coming Christmas
+to find us by our own fireside, and then we will enjoy it together."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris said nothing for a moment, then she murmured dreamily—</p>
+
+<p>"Long ago, when I used to sit at my window in town, I used to see
+in a kind of vision, a farm-house in the country—thatched roof, and
+diamond-paned casement windows, and an orchard."</p>
+
+<p>"A vision of your home truly. What else did you see. Wasn't I in that
+dream?"</p>
+
+<p>Damaris shook her head with a little laugh, then she nestled against
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do anything you like," she murmured; "for your wishes shall be
+mine."</p>
+
+<p>And Stuart's head was bent to hers as he made answer playfully—</p>
+
+<p>"We'll be a real old-fashioned couple, of one mind and one heart; but
+when I give myself airs and turn dictator, you must snub me well, and
+put me in my proper place."</p>
+
+<p>"If we're going to be old-fashioned," Damaris said, "you must be the
+head."</p>
+
+<p>"No; we'll be modern, and run in harness together, side by side."</p>
+
+<p>Damaris smiled. She felt she could leave their future in the hands of
+the One Who loved them.</p>
+
+<p>For the present she was wholly and entirely satisfied.</p>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<p class="t4">
+————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————<br>
+Headley Brothers, Printers, 18, Devonshire Street, Bishopsgate, K. C. 2;<br>
+and Ashford Kent.<br>
+
+<p><br><br><br></p>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78482 ***</div>
+</body>
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