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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78482-0.txt b/78482-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d28331 --- /dev/null +++ b/78482-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8304 @@ +*** 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 *** diff --git a/78482-h/78482-h.htm b/78482-h/78482-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..be4af60 --- /dev/null +++ b/78482-h/78482-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8618 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Discovery of Damaris │ Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/image001.jpg" type="image/cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size:12.0pt; + font-family:"Verdana"; +} + +p {text-indent: 2em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +h2 {font-size: 1.17em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +.w100 { + width: auto + } + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 125%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t2 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center + } + +p.t3b { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center + } + +p.t4 { + text-indent: 0%; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center + } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.poem { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + padding: 20px 0; + text-align: left; + width: 555px; + } + + </style> +</head> +<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> + "'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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "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> + "Returning on Tuesday. Book room for me at hotel."<br> +<br> +</p> + +<p>To Damaris he wrote a letter:—</p> + +<p class="letter"> +<br> + "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> + "'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> + "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> + 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> + "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> + "'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. 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