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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13597 ***
+
+A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH
+
+by
+
+F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+1886
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TO My MOTHER
+
+I DEDICATE THIS TALE A MEAN TOKEN OF A LIFELONG AFFECTION
+
+SORRENTO, Christmas Day, 1885
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The Reverend Augustin Ambrose would gladly have given up taking pupils.
+He was growing old and his sight was beginning to trouble him; he was
+very weary of Thucydides, of Homer, of the works of Mr. Todhunter of
+which the green bindings expressed a hope still unrealised, of conic
+sections--even of his beloved Horace. He was tired of the stupidities of
+the dull young men who were sent to him because they could not "keep up",
+and he had long ceased to be surprised or interested by the remarks of
+the clever ones who were sent to him because their education had not
+prepared them for an English University. The dull ones could never be
+made to understand anything, though Mr. Ambrose generally succeeded in
+making them remember enough to matriculate, by dint of ceaseless
+repetition and a system of _memoria technica_ which embraced most things
+necessary to the salvation of dull youth. The clever ones, on the other
+hand, generally lacked altogether the solid foundation of learning; they
+could construe fluently but did not know a long syllable from a short
+one; they had vague notions of elemental algebra and no notion at all of
+arithmetic, but did very well in conic sections; they knew nothing of
+prosody, but dabbled perpetually in English blank verse; altogether they
+knew most of those things which they need not have known and they knew
+none of those things thoroughly which they ought to have known. After
+twenty years of experience Mr. Ambrose ascertained that it was easier to
+teach a stupid boy than a clever one, but that he would prefer not to
+teach at all.
+
+Unfortunately the small tithes of a small country parish in Essex did not
+furnish a sufficient income for his needs. He had been a Fellow of
+Trinity College, Cambridge, within a few years of taking his degree,
+wherein he had obtained high honours. But he had married and had found
+himself obliged to accept the first living offered to him, to wit, the
+vicarage of Billingsfield, whereof his college held the rectory and
+received the great tithes. The entire income he obtained from his cure
+never at any time exceeded three hundred and forty-seven pounds, and in
+the year when it reached that high figure there had been an unusually
+large number of marriages. It was not surprising that the vicar should
+desire to improve his circumstances by receiving one or two pupils. He
+had married young, as has been said, and there had been children born to
+him, a son and a daughter. Mrs. Ambrose was a good manager and a good
+mother, and her husband had worked hard. Between them they had brought up
+their children exceedingly well. The son had in his turn entered the
+church, had exhibited a faculty of pushing his way which had not
+characterised his father, had got a curacy in a fashionable Yorkshire
+watering-place, and was thought to be on the way to obtain a first-rate
+living. In the course of time, too, the daughter had lost her heart to a
+young physician who had brilliant prospects and some personal fortune,
+and the Reverend Augustin Ambrose had given his consent to the union. Nor
+had he been disappointed. The young physician had risen rapidly in his
+profession, had been elected a member of the London College, had
+transferred himself to the capital and now enjoyed a rising practice in
+Chelsea. So great was his success that it was thought he would before
+long purchase the goodwill of an old practitioner who dwelt in the
+neighbourhood of Brompton Crescent, and who, it was said, might shortly
+be expected to retire.
+
+It will be seen, therefore, that if Mr. Ambrose's life had not been very
+brilliant, his efforts had on the whole been attended with success. His
+children were both happy and independent and no longer needed his
+assistance or support; his wife, the excellent Mrs. Ambrose, enjoyed
+unfailing health and good spirits; he himself was still vigorous and
+active, and as yet found no difficulty in obtaining a couple of pupils at
+two hundred pounds a year each, for he had early got a reputation for
+successfully preparing young gentlemen with whom no other private tutor
+could do anything, and he had established the scale of his prices
+accordingly. It is true that he had sacrificed other things for the sake
+of imparting tuition, and more than once he had hesitated and asked
+himself whether he should go on. Indeed, when he graduated, it was
+thought that he would soon make himself remarkable by the publication of
+some scholarly work; it was foretold that he might become a famous
+preacher; it was asserted that he was a general favourite with the
+Fellows of Trinity and would get a proportionately fat living--but he had
+committed the unpardonable sin of allowing his chances of fortune to slip
+from him. He had given up his fellowship, had married and had accepted an
+insignificant country living. He asked nothing, and he got nothing. He
+never attracted the notice of his bishop by doing anything extraordinary,
+nor the notice of the public by appearing in print. He baptized, married
+and buried the people of Billingsfield, Essex, and he took private
+pupils. He wrote a sermon once a fortnight, and revised old ones for the
+other three occasions out of four. His sermons were good in their way,
+but were intended for simple folk and did no justice to the powers he had
+certainly possessed in his youth. Indeed, as years went on, the dry
+routine of his life produced its inevitable effect upon his mind, and the
+productions of Mr. Ambrose grew to be exceedingly commonplace; and the
+more commonplace he became, the more he regretted having done so little
+with the faculties he enjoyed, and the more weary he became of the daily
+task of galvanising the dull minds of his pupils into a spasmodic
+activity, just sufficient to leap the ditch that separates the schoolboy
+from the undergraduate. He had not only educated his children and seen
+them provided for in the world; he had also saved a little money, and he
+had insured his life for five hundred pounds. There was no longer any
+positive necessity for continuing to teach, as there had been thirty
+years ago, when he first married.
+
+So much for the circumstances of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose.
+Personally he was a man of good presence, five feet ten inches in height,
+active and strong, of a ruddy complexion with smooth, thick grey hair and
+a plentiful grey beard. He shaved his upper lip however, greatly to the
+detriment of his appearance, for the said upper lip was very long and the
+absence of the hirsute appendage showed a very large mouth with very thin
+lips, generally compressed into an expression of remarkable obstinacy.
+His nose was both broad and long and his grey eyes were bright and
+aggressive in their glance. As a matter of fact Mr. Ambrose was combative
+by nature, but his fighting instincts seem to have been generally
+employed in the protection of rights he already possessed, rather than in
+pushing on in search of fresh fields of activity. He was an active man,
+fond of walking alone and able to walk any distance he pleased; a
+charitable man with the charity peculiar to people of exceedingly
+economical tendencies and possessing small fixed incomes. He would give
+himself vast personal trouble to assist distress, as though aware that
+since he could not give much money to the poor he was bound to give the
+best of himself. The good Mrs. Ambrose seconded him in this as in all his
+works; labouring hard when hard work could do any good, but giving
+material assistance with a sparing hand. It sufficiently defines the two
+to say that although many a surly labourer in the parish grumbled that
+the vicar and his wife were "oncommon near", when money was concerned,
+there was nevertheless no trouble in which their aid was not invoked and
+their advice asked. But the indigent labourer not uncommonly retrieved
+his position by asking a shilling of one of the young gentlemen at the
+vicarage, who were generally open-handed, good-looking boys, blessed with
+a great deal more money than brains.
+
+At the time when this tale opens, however, it chanced that one of the two
+young gentlemen at the vicarage was by no means in the position peculiar
+to the majority of youths who sought the good offices of the Reverend
+Augustin Ambrose. John Short, aged eighteen, was in all respects a
+remarkable contrast to his companion the Honourable Cornelius Angleside.
+John Short was apparently very poor; the Honourable Cornelius on the
+other hand had plenty of money. Short was undeniably clever; Angleside
+was uncommonly dull. Short was the son of a decayed literary man;
+Angleside was the son of a nobleman. Short was by nature a hard worker;
+Angleside was amazingly idle. Short meant to do something in the world;
+Angleside had early determined to do nothing.
+
+It would not be easy to define the reasons which induced Mr. Ambrose to
+receive John Short under his roof. He had never before taken a pupil on
+any but his usual terms, and at his time of life it was strange that he
+should break through the rule. But here his peculiar views of charity
+came into play. Short's father had been his own chum at school, and his
+friend at college, but had failed to reap any substantial benefits from
+his education. He had been a scholar in his way, but his way had not been
+the way of other scholars, and when he had gone up for honours he had got
+a bad third in classics. He would not enter the church, he could not
+enter the law, he had no interest whatever, and he found himself
+naturally thrust into the profession of literature. For a time he had
+nearly starved; then he had met with some success and had, of course,
+married without hesitation; after this he had had more misfortunes. His
+wife had died leaving him an only son, whom in course of time he had sent
+to school. But school was too expensive and he had reluctantly taken the
+boy home again. It was in a fit of despair that he wrote to his old
+friend Augustin Ambrose, asking his advice. The Reverend Augustin
+considered the matter with the assistance of his wife, and being
+charitable souls, they determined that they must help Short to educate
+his son. Accordingly the vicar of Billingsfield wrote to his old friend
+to say that if he could manage to pay a small sum for the lad's board,
+he, the vicar, would complete the boy's education, so that he might at
+least have a chance in the world. Short accepted the offer with boundless
+gratitude and had hitherto not failed to pay the vicar the small sum
+agreed upon. The result of all this was that Mr. Ambrose had grown very
+fond of John, and John had derived great advantage from his position. He
+possessed precisely what his father had lacked, namely a strong bent in
+one direction, and there was no doubt that he would distinguish himself
+if he had a chance. That chance the vicar had determined to give him. He
+had made up his mind that his old friend's son should go to college and
+show what he was able to do. It was not an easy thing to manage, but the
+vicar had friends in Cambridge and John had brains; moreover the vicar
+and John were both very obstinate people and had both determined upon the
+same plan, so that there was a strong probability of their succeeding.
+
+John Short was eighteen years of age, neither particularly good-looking
+nor by any means the reverse. He had what bankers commonly call a lucky
+face; that is to say he had a certain very prepossessing look of honesty
+in his blue eyes, and a certain look of energetic goodwill in his
+features. When he was much older and wore a beard he passed for a
+handsome man, but at eighteen he could only boast the smallest of fair
+whiskers, and when anybody took the trouble to look long at him, which
+was not often, the verdict was that his jaw was too heavy and his mouth
+too obstinate. In complexion he was fair, and healthy to look at,
+generally sunburned in the summer, for he had a habit of reading out of
+doors; his laugh was very pleasant, though it was rarely heard; his eyes
+were honest but generally thoughtful; his frame was sturdy and already
+inclined rather to strength than to graceful proportion; his head matched
+his body well, being broad and well-shaped with plenty of prominence over
+the brows and plenty of fulness above the temples. He had a way of
+standing as though it would not be easy to move him, and a way of
+expressing his opinion which seemed to challenge contradiction. But he
+was not a combative boy. If any one argued with him, it soon appeared
+that he was not really argumentative, but merely enthusiastic. It was not
+necessary to agree with him, and there was small use in contradicting
+him. The more he talked the more enthusiastic he grew as he developed his
+own views; until seeing that he was not understood or that he was merely
+laughed at, he would end his discourse with a merry laugh at himself, or
+a shy apology for having talked so much. But the vicar assured his wife
+that the boy's Greek and Latin verses were something very extraordinary
+indeed, and much better than his own in his best days. For John was
+passionately fond of the classics and did not propose to acquire any more
+mathematical knowledge than was strictly necessary for his matriculation
+and "little-go." He meant to be a famous scholar and he meant to get a
+fellowship at his college in order to be perfectly independent and to
+help his father.
+
+John was a constant source of wonder to his companion the Honourable
+Cornelius Angleside, who remembered to have seen fellows of that sort at
+Eton but had never got near enough to them to know what they were really
+like. Cornelius had a vague idea that there was some trick about
+appearing to know so much and that those reading chaps were awful
+humbugs. How the trick was performed he did not venture to explain, but
+he was as firmly persuaded that it was managed by some species of
+conjuring as that Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook performed their wonders by
+sleight of hand. That one human brain should actually contain the amount
+of knowledge John Short appeared to possess was not credible to the
+Honourable Cornelius, and the latter spent more of his time in trying to
+discover how John "did it" than in trying to "do it" himself.
+Nevertheless, young Angleside liked Short after his own fashion, and
+Short did not dislike Angleside. John's father had given him to
+understand that as a general rule persons of wealth and good birth were a
+set of overbearing, purse-proud bullies, who considered men of genius to
+be little better than a set of learned monkeys, certainly not good enough
+to black their boots. For John's father in his misfortunes had imbibed
+sundry radical notions formerly peculiar to poor literary men, and not
+yet altogether extinct, and he had accordingly warned his son that all
+mammon was the mammon of unrighteousness, and that the people who
+possessed it were the natural enemies of people who had to live by their
+brains. But John had very soon discovered that though Cornelius Angleside
+possessed the three qualifications for perdition, in the shape of birth,
+wealth and ignorance, against which his poor father railed unceasingly,
+he succeeded nevertheless in making himself very good company. Angleside
+was not overbearing, he was not purse-proud and he was not a bully. On
+the contrary he was unobtrusive and sufficiently simple in manner, and he
+certainly never mentioned the subject of his family or fortune; John
+rather pitied him, on the whole, until he began to discover that
+Angleside looked up to him on account of his mental superiority, and then
+John, being very human, began to like him.
+
+The life at the vicarage of Billingsfield, Essex, was not remarkable for
+anything but its extreme regularity. Prayers, breakfast, work, lunch, a
+walk, work, dinner, work, prayers, bed. The programme never varied, save
+as the seasons introduced some change in the hours of the establishment.
+The vicar, who was fond of a little gardening and amused himself with a
+variety of experiments in the laying of asparagus beds, found occasional
+excitement in the pursuit of a stray cat which had managed to climb his
+wire netting and get at the heads of his favourite vegetable, in which
+thrilling chase he was usually aided by an old brown retriever answering,
+when he answered at all, to the name of Carlo, and by the Honourable
+Cornelius, whose skill in throwing stones was as phenomenal as his
+ignorance of Latin quantities. The play was invariably opened by old
+Reynolds, the ancient and bow-legged gardener, groom and man of all work
+at the vicarage.
+
+"Please sir, there's Simon Gunn's cat in the sparrergrass." The
+information was accompanied by a sort of chuckle of evil satisfaction
+which at once roused the sleeping passions of the Reverend Augustin
+Ambrose.
+
+"Dear me, Reynolds, then why don't you turn her out?" and without waiting
+for an answer, the excellent vicar would spring from his seat and rush
+down the lawn in the direction of the beds, closely followed by the
+Honourable Cornelius, who picked up stones from the gravel path as he
+ran, and whose long legs made short work of the iron fence at the bottom
+of the garden. Meanwhile the aged Reynolds let Carlo loose from the yard
+and the hunt was prosecuted with great boldness and ingenuity. The
+vicar's object was to get the cat out of the asparagus bed as soon as
+possible without hurting her, for he was a humane man and would not have
+hurt a fly. Cornelius, on the other hand, desired the game to last as
+long as possible, and endeavoured to prevent the cat's escape by always
+hitting the wire netting at the precise spot where she was trying to get
+over it. In this way he would often succeed in getting as much as half an
+hour's respite from Horace. At last the vicar, panting with his exertions
+and bathed in perspiration, would protest against the form of assault.
+
+"Really, Angleside", he would say, "I believe I could throw straighter
+myself. I'm quite sure Carlo can get her out if you leave him alone".
+
+Whereupon Cornelius would put his hands in his pockets and look on, and
+in a few minutes, when the cat had been driven out and the vicar's back
+was turned, he would slip a sixpence into old Reynold's hand, and follow
+his tutor reluctantly back to the study. Whether there was any connection
+between the cat and the sixpence is uncertain, but during the last months
+of Angleside's stay at the vicarage the ingenuity of Simon Gunn's yellow
+cat in getting over the wire netting reached such a pitch that the vicar
+began to prepare a letter to the Bishop Stortford _Chronicle_ on the
+relations generally existing between cats and asparagus beds.
+
+Another event in the life of the vicarage was the periodical lameness of
+the vicar's strawberry mare, followed by the invariable discovery that
+George Horsnell the village blacksmith had run a nail into her foot when
+he shoed her last. Invariably, also, the vicar threatened that in future
+the mare should be shod by Hawkins the rival blacksmith, who was a
+dissenter and had consequently never been employed by the vicarage.
+Moreover it was generally rumoured once every year that old Nat Barker,
+the octogenarian cripple who had not been able to stand upon his feet for
+twenty years, was at the point of death. He invariably recovered,
+however, in time to put in an appearance by proxy at the distribution of
+a certain dole of a loaf and a shilling on boxing day. It was told also
+that in remote times the Puckeridge hounds had once come that way and
+that the fox had got into the churchyard. A repetition of this stirring
+event was anxiously looked for during many years, every time that the
+said pack met within ten miles of Billingsfield, but hitherto it had been
+looked for in vain. On the whole the life at the vicarage was not
+eventful, and the studies of the two young men who imbibed learning at
+the feet of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose were rarely interrupted.
+
+Mrs. Ambrose herself represented the feminine element in the society of
+the little place. The new doctor was a strange man, suspected of being a
+free-thinker, and he was not married. The Hall, for there was a Hall at
+Billingsfield, was uninhabited, and had been uninhabited for years. The
+estate which belonged to it was unimportant and moreover was in Chancery
+and seemed likely to stay there, for reasons no one ever mentioned at
+Billingsfield, because no one knew anything about them. From time to time
+a legal looking personage drove up to the Duke's Head, which was kept by
+Mr. Abraham Boosey, who was also undertaker to the parish, and which was
+thought to be a very good inn. The legal personage stayed a day or two,
+spending most of his time at the Hall and in driving about to the
+scattered farms which represented the estate, but he never came to the
+vicarage, nor did the vicar ever seem to know what he was doing nor why
+he came. "He came on business"--that was all that anybody knew. His
+business was to collect rents, of course; but what he did with them, no
+one was bold enough to surmise. The estate was in Chancery, it was said,
+and the definition conveyed about as much to the mind of the average
+inhabitant of Billingsfield, as if he had been informed that the moon was
+in perigee or the sun in Scorpio. The practical result of its being in
+Chancery was that no one lived there.
+
+John Short liked Mrs. Ambrose and the Honourable Cornelius behaved to her
+with well bred affability. She always said Cornelius had very nice
+manners, as indeed he had and had need to have. Occasionally, perhaps
+four or five times in the year, the Reverend Edward Pewlay, who had what
+he called a tenor voice, and his wife, who played the pianoforte very
+fairly, came over to assist at a Penny Reading. He lived "over Harlow
+way," as the natives expressed it; he was what was called in those parts
+a rabid Anglican, because he preached in his surplice and had services on
+the Saints' days, and the vicar of Billingsfield did not sympathise in
+his views. Nevertheless he was very useful at Penny Readings, and on one
+of these occasions produced a very ingenious ghost for the delectation of
+the rustics, by means of a piece of plate glass and a couple of lamps.
+
+There had indeed been festivities at the vicarage to which as many as
+three clergymen's wives had been invited, but these were rare indeed. For
+months at a time Mrs. Ambrose reigned in undisputed possession of the
+woman's social rights in Billingsfield. She was an excellent person in
+every way. She had once been handsome and even now she was fine-looking,
+of goodly stature, if also of goodly weight; rosy, even rubicund, in
+complexion, and rotund of feature; looking at you rather severely out of
+her large grey eyes, but able to smile very cheerfully and to show an
+uncommonly good set of teeth; twisting her thick grey hair into a small
+knot at the back of her head and then covering it with a neatly made cap
+which she considered becoming to her time of life; dressed always with
+extreme simplicity and neatness, glorying in her good sense and in her
+stout shoes; speaking of things which she called "neat" with a devotional
+admiration and expressing the extremest height of her disapprobation when
+she said anything was "very untidy." A motherly woman, a practical woman,
+a good housekeeper and a good wife, careful of small things because
+generally only small things came in her way, devotedly attached to her
+husband, whom she regarded with perfect justice as the best man of her
+acquaintance, adding, however, with somewhat precipitous rashness that he
+was the best man in the world. She took also a great interest in his
+pupils and busied herself mightily with their welfare. Since the arrival
+of the new doctor who was suspected of free-thinking, she had shown a
+strong leaning towards homoeopathy, and prescribed small pellets of
+belladonna for the Honourable Cornelius's cold and infinitesimal drops of
+aconite for John Short's headaches, until she observed that John never
+had a headache unless he had worked too much, and Angleside always had a
+cold when he did not want to work at all. Especially in the department of
+the commissariat she showed great activity, and the reputation the vicar
+had acquired for feeding his pupils well had perhaps more to do with his
+success than he imagined. She was never tired of repeating that
+Englishmen needed plenty of good food, and she had no principles which
+she did not practise. She even thought it right to lecture young
+Angleside upon his idleness at stated intervals. He always replied with
+great gentleness that he was awfully stupid, you know, and Mr. Ambrose
+was awfully good about it and he hoped he should not be pulled when he
+went up. And strange to relate he actually passed his examination and
+matriculated, to his own immense astonishment and to the no small honour
+and glory of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, vicar of Billingsfield,
+Essex. But when that great day arrived certain events occurred which are
+worthy to be chronicled and remembered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+In the warm June weather young Angleside went up to pass his examination
+for entrance at Trinity. There is nothing particularly interesting or
+worthy of note in that simple process, though at that time the custom of
+imposing an examination had only been recently imported from Oxford. For
+one whole day forty or fifty young fellows from all parts of the country
+sat at the long dining-tables in the beautiful old hall and wrote as
+busily as they could, answering the printed questions before them, and
+eyeing each other curiously from time to time. The weather was warm and
+sultry, the trees were all in full leaf and Cambridge was deserted. Only
+a few hard-reading men, who stayed up during the Long, wandered out with
+books at the backs of the colleges or strayed slowly through the empty
+courts, objects of considerable interest to the youths who had come up
+for the entrance examination--chiefly pale men in rather shabby clothes
+with old gowns and battered caps, and a general appearance of being the
+worse for wear.
+
+Angleside had been in Cambridge before and consequently lost no time in
+returning to Billingsfield when the examination was over. Short was to
+spend the summer at the vicarage, reading hard until the term began, when
+he was to go up and compete for a minor scholarship; Angleside was to
+wait until he heard whether he had passed, and was then going abroad to
+meet his father and to rest from the extreme exertion of mastering the
+"Apology" and the first books of the "Memorabilia." John drove over to
+meet the Honourable Cornelius, who was in a terrible state of anxiety and
+left him no peace on the way asking him again and again to repeat the
+answers to the questions which had been proposed, reckoning up the ones
+he had answered wrong and the ones he thought he might have answered
+right, and coming each time to a different conclusion, finally lighting a
+huge brierwood pipe and swearing "that it was a beastly shame to subject
+human beings to such awful torture." John calmed him by saying he fancied
+Cornelius had "got through"; for John's words were a species of gospel to
+Cornelius. By the time they reached the vicarage Angleside felt sanguine
+of his success.
+
+The vicar was not visible. It was a strange and unheard of thing--there
+were visitors in the drawing-room. This doubtless accounted for the fact
+that the fly from the Duke's Head was standing on the opposite side of
+the road. The two young men went into their study, which was on the
+ground floor and opened upon the passage which led to the drawing-room
+from the little hall. Angleside remarked that by leaving the door open
+they would catch a glimpse of the visitor when he went out. But the
+visitor stayed long. The curiosity of the two was wrought up to a high
+pitch; it was many months since there had been a real visitor at the
+vicarage. Angleside suggested going out and finding old Reynolds--he
+always knew everything that was going on.
+
+"If we only wait long enough," said Short philosophically, "they are sure
+to come out."
+
+"Perhaps," returned Cornelius rather doubtfully.
+
+"They" did come out. The drawing-room door opened and there was a sound
+of voices. It was a woman's voice, and a particularly sweet voice, too.
+Still no one came down the passage. The lady seemed to be lingering in
+taking her leave. Then there was a sound of small feet and suddenly a
+little girl stood before the open door of the study, looking wonderingly
+at the two young men. Short thought he had never seen such a beautiful
+child. She could not have been more than seven or eight years old, and
+was not tall for her age; a delicate little figure, all in black, with
+long brown curls upon her shoulders, flowing abundantly from beneath a
+round black sailor's hat that was set far back upon her head. The child's
+face was rather pale than very fair, of a beautiful transparent paleness,
+with the least tinge of colour in the cheeks; her great violet eyes gazed
+wonderingly into the study, and her lips parted in childlike uncertainty,
+while her little gloved hand rested on the door-post as though to get a
+sense of security from something so solid.
+
+It was only for a moment. Both the young fellows smiled at the child
+unconsciously. Perhaps she thought they were laughing at her; she turned
+and ran away again; then passed a second time, stealing a long glance at
+the two strangers, but followed immediately by the lady, who was probably
+her mother, and whose voice had been heard for the last few moments. The
+lady, too, glanced in as she went by, and John Short lost his heart then
+and there; not that the lady was beautiful as the little girl was, but
+because there was something in her face, in her figure, in her whole
+carriage, that moved the boy suddenly as she looked at him and sent the
+blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead.
+
+She seemed young, but he never thought of her age. In reality she was
+nine-and-twenty years old but looked younger. She was pale, far paler
+than the little girl, but she had those same violet eyes, large, deep and
+sorrowful, beneath dark, smooth eyebrows that arched high and rose a
+little in the middle. Her mouth was perhaps large for her face but her
+full lips curved gently and seemed able to smile, though she was not
+smiling. Her nose was perhaps too small--her face was far from
+faultless--and it had the slightest tendency to turn up instead of down,
+but it was so delicately modelled that an artist would have pardoned it
+that deviation from the classic. Thick brown hair waved across her white
+forehead and was hidden under the black bonnet and the veil thrown back
+over it. She was dressed in black and the close-fitting gown showed off
+with unconscious vanity the lines of a perfectly moulded and perfectly
+supple figure. But it was especially her eyes which attracted John's
+sudden attention at that first glance, her violet eyes, tender, sad,
+almost pathetic, seeming to ask sympathy and marvellously able to command
+it.
+
+It was but for a moment that she paused. Then came the vicar, following
+her from the drawing-room, and all three went on. Presently Short heard
+the front door open and Mr. Ambrose shouted to the fly.
+
+"Muggins! Muggins!"
+
+No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican, had
+christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the least
+of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain Charles
+Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and Muggins he
+remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for the afternoon was
+hot and he had anticipated his "fours."
+
+Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where
+the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse
+the driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed
+close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the
+blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt
+very foolish.
+
+"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the
+summer's sun.
+
+"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping
+Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel.
+Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only the
+young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not mind
+being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and brought the
+fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting.
+
+"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she
+came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then it
+was the turn of the little girl.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand.
+
+"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who
+was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding out
+her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than ever
+as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl blushed
+and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the carriage.
+
+"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door.
+
+"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered the
+lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her voice.
+She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful. Muggins
+cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and his pupil
+standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house.
+
+"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose, rather
+anxiously.
+
+Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would say
+something about the lady, but to his annoyance, he said nothing at all.
+John could not ask questions, seeing it was none of his business and was
+fain to content himself with thinking of the lady's face and voice. He
+felt very uncomfortable at dinner. He thought the excellent Mrs. Ambrose
+eyed him with unusual severity, as though suspecting what he was thinking
+about, and he thought the vicar's grey eye twinkled occasionally with the
+pleasant sense of possessing a secret he had no intention of imparting.
+As a matter of fact Mrs. Ambrose was supremely unconscious of the fact
+that John had seen the lady, and looked at him with some curiosity,
+observing that he seemed nervous and blushed from time to time and was
+more silent than usual. She came to the conclusion that he had been
+working too hard, as usual, and that night requested him to take two
+little pellets of aconite, and to repeat the dose in the morning. Whether
+it was the result of the homoeopathic medicine or of the lapse of a few
+hours and a good night's rest, it is impossible to say; John, however,
+was himself again the next morning and showed no further signs of
+nervousness. But he kept his eyes and ears open, hoping for some news of
+the exquisite creature who had made so profound an impression on his
+heart.
+
+In due time the joyful news arrived from Cambridge that the Honourable
+Cornelius had passed his examination and was at liberty to matriculate at
+the beginning of the term. The intelligence was duly telegraphed to his
+father, and in a few hours came a despatch in answer, full of
+affectionate congratulation and requesting that Cornelius should proceed
+at once to Paris, where his father was waiting for him. The young man
+took an affectionate leave of the vicar, of Mrs. Ambrose and especially
+of John Short, for whom he had conceived an almost superstitious
+admiration; old Reynolds was not forgotten in the farewell, and for
+several days after Angleside's departure the aged gardener was observed
+to walk somewhat unsteadily and to wear a peculiarly thoughtful
+expression; while the vicar observed with annoyance that Strawberry, the
+old mare, was less carefully groomed than usual. Strangely coincident
+with these phenomena was the fact that Simon Gunn's yellow cat seemed to
+have entirely repented of her evil practices, renouncing from the day
+when Cornelius left for Paris her periodical invasion of the asparagus
+beds at the foot of the garden. But the vicar was too practical a man to
+waste time in speculating upon the occult relations of seemingly
+disconnected facts. He applied himself with diligence to the work of
+preparing John Short to compete for the minor scholarship. The labour was
+congenial. He had never taken a pupil so far before, and it was a genuine
+delight to him to bring his own real powers into play at last. As the
+summer wore on, he predicted all manner of success for John Short, and
+his predictions were destined before long to be realised, for John did
+all he promised to do and more also. To have succeeded in pushing the
+Honourable Cornelius through his entrance examination was a triumph
+indeed, but an uninteresting one at best, and one which had no further
+consequences. But to be the means of turning out the senior classic of
+the University was an honour which would not only greatly increase the
+good vicar's reputation but would be to him a source of the keenest
+satisfaction during the remainder of his life; moreover the prospects
+which would be immediately opened to John in case he obtained such a
+brilliant success would be a very material benefit to his unlucky father,
+whose talents yielded him but a precarious livelihood and whose pitiable
+condition had induced his old schoolfellow to undertake the education of
+his son.
+
+Much depended upon John's obtaining one or more scholarships during his
+career at college. To a man of inferior talents the vicar would have
+suggested that it would be wiser to go to a smaller college than Trinity
+where he would have less competition to expect; but as soon as he
+realised John's powers, he made up his mind that it would be precisely
+where competition was hottest that his pupil would have the greatest
+success. He would get something--perhaps his father would make a little
+more money--the vicar even dreamed of lending John a small sum--something
+would turn up; at all events he must go to the largest college and do
+everything in the best possible way. Meanwhile he must work as hard as he
+could during the few months remaining before the beginning of his first
+term.
+
+Whether the lady ever wrote to Mr. Ambrose, John could not ascertain; she
+was never mentioned at the vicarage, and it seemed as though the mystery
+were never to be solved. But the impression she had made upon the young
+man's mind remained and even gained strength by the working of his
+imagination; for he thought of her night and day, treasuring up every
+memory of her that he could recall, building romances in his mind,
+conceiving the most ingenious reasons for the solitary visit she had made
+to the vicarage, and inwardly vowing that if ever he should be at liberty
+to follow his own inclinations he would go out into the world and search
+for her. He was only eighteen then, and of a strongly susceptible
+temperament. He had seen nothing of the world, for even when living in
+London, in a dingy lodging, with his father, he had been perpetually
+occupied with books, reading much and seeing little. Then he had been at
+school, but he had seen the dark side of school life--the side which boys
+who are known to be very poor generally see; and more than ever he had
+resorted to study for comfort and relief from outward ills. Then at last
+he had been transferred to a serener state in the vicarage of
+Billingsfield and had grown up rapidly from a schoolboy to a young man;
+but, as has been said, the feminine element at the vicarage was solely
+represented by Mrs. Ambrose and the monotony of her maternal society was
+varied only by the occasional visits of the mild young Mrs. Edward
+Pewlay. John Short had indeed a powerful and aspiring imagination, but it
+would have been impossible even by straining that faculty to its utmost
+activity to think in the same breath of romance and of Mrs. Ambrose, for
+even in her youth Mrs. Ambrose had not been precisely a romantic
+character. John's fancy was not stimulated by his surroundings, but it
+fed upon itself and grew fast enough to acquire an influence over
+everything he did. It was not surprising that, when at last chance threw
+in his way a being who seemed instantly to realise and fulfil his wildest
+dreams of beauty and feminine fascination, he should have yielded without
+a struggle to the delicious influence, feeling that henceforth his ideal
+had taken shape and substance, and had thereby become more than ever the
+ideal in which he delighted.
+
+He gave her names, a dozen of them every day, christening her after every
+heroine in fiction and history of whom he had ever read. But no name
+seemed to suit her well enough; whereupon he wrote a Greek ode and a
+Latin epistle to the fair unknown, but omitted to show them to the
+Reverend Augustin Ambrose, though he was quite certain that they were the
+best he had ever produced. Then he began to write a novel, but suddenly
+recollected that a famous author had written one entitled "No Name," and
+as that was the only title he could possibly give to the work he
+contemplated he of course had no choice but to abandon the work itself.
+He wrote more verses, and he dreamed more dreams, and he meanwhile
+acquired much learning and in process of time realised that he had but a
+few days longer to stay at Billingsfield. The Michaelmas term was about
+to open and he must bid farewell to the hospitable roof and the learned
+conversation of the good vicar. But when those last days came he realised
+that he was leaving the scene of his only dream, and his heart grew sad.
+
+Indeed he loved the old red brick vicarage with its low porch, overgrown
+with creepers, its fragrant old flower garden, surrounding it on three
+sides, its gabled roof, its south wall whereon the vicar constantly
+attempted to train fig trees, maintaining that the climate of England had
+grown warmer and that he would prove it--John loved it all, and
+especially he loved the little study, lined with the books grown familiar
+to him, and the study door, the door through which he had seen that
+lovely face which he firmly believed was to inspire him to do great
+things and to influence his whole life for ever after. He would leave the
+door open and place himself just where he had sat that day, and then he
+would look suddenly up with beating heart, almost fancying he could again
+see those violet eyes gazing at him from the dusky passage--blushing then
+to himself, like any girl, and burying himself in his book till the fancy
+was grown too strong and he looked up again. He had attempted to sketch
+her face on a bit of paper; but he had no skill and he thrust the drawing
+into the paper basket, horrified at having made anything so hideous in
+the effort to represent anything so beautiful, and returned to making
+odes upon her, and Latin epistles, in which he succeeded much better.
+
+And now the time had come when he must leave all this dreaming, or at
+least the scene of it, and go to college and win scholarships and renown.
+It was hard to go and he showed his regret so plainly that Mrs. Ambrose
+was touched at what she took for his affection for the place and for
+herself and for the vicar. John Short was indeed very grateful to her for
+all the kindness she had shown him, and to Mr. Ambrose for the learning
+he had acquired; for John was a fine fellow and never forgot an
+obligation nor undervalued one. But when we are very young our hearts are
+far more easily touched to joy and sadness by the chords and discords of
+our own dreaming, than by the material doings of the world around us, or
+by the strong and benevolent interest our elders are good enough to take
+in us. We feel grateful to those same elders if we have any good in us,
+but we are far from feeling a similar interest in them. We see in our
+imaginations wonderful pictures, and we hear wonderful words, for
+everything we dream of partakes of an unknown perfection and completely
+throws into the shade the inartistic commonplaces of daily life. As John
+Short grew older, he often regretted the society of his old tutor and in
+the frequent absence of important buttons from his raiment he bitterly
+realised that there was no longer a motherly Mrs. Ambrose to inspect his
+linen; but when he took leave of them what hurt him most was to turn his
+back upon the beloved old study, upon the very door through which he had
+once, and only once, beheld the ideal of his first love dream.
+
+Though the vicar was glad to see the boy started upon what he already
+regarded as a career of certain victory, he was sorry to lose him, not
+knowing when he should see him again. John intended to read through all
+the vacations until he got his degree. He might indeed have come down for
+a day or two at Christmas, but with his very slender resources even so
+short a pleasure trip was not to be thought of lightly. It was therefore
+to be a long separation, so long to look forward to that when John saw
+the shabby little box which contained, all his worldly goods put up into
+the back of the vicar's dogcart, and stood at last in the hall, saying
+good-bye, he felt as though he was being thrust out into the world never
+to return again; his heart seemed to rise in his throat, the tears stood
+in his eyes and he could hardly speak a word. Even then he thought of
+that day when he had waked up the sleepy Muggins to take away the
+beautiful unknown lady. He felt he must be quick about his leave-taking,
+or he would break down.
+
+"You have been very good to me. I--I shall never forget it," he murmured
+as he shook hands with Mrs. Ambrose. "And you, too, sir--" he added
+turning to the vicar. But the old clergyman cut him short, being himself
+rather uncertain about the throat.
+
+"Good-bye, my lad. God bless you. We shall hear of you soon--showing them
+what you can do with your Alcaics--Good-bye."
+
+So John got into the dogcart and was driven off by the ancient
+Reynolds--past the "Duke's Head," past the "Feathers," past the
+churchyard and the croft--the "croat," they called it in
+Billingsfield--and on by the windmill on the heath, a hideous bit of
+grassless common euphemistically so named, and so out to the high-road
+towards the railway station, feeling very miserable indeed. It is a
+curious fact, too, in the history of his psychology that in proportion as
+he got farther from the vicarage he thought more and more of his old
+tutor and less and less of his unfinished dream, and he realised
+painfully that the vicar was nearly the only friend he had in the world.
+He would of course find Cornelius Angleside at Cambridge, but he
+suspected that Cornelius, turned loose among a merry band of
+undergraduates of his own position would be a very different person from
+the idle youth he had known at Billingsfield, trembling in the intervals
+of his idleness at the awful prospect of the entrance examination, and
+frantically attempting to master some bit of stray knowledge which might
+possibly be useful to him. Cornelius would hunt, would gamble, would go
+to the races and would give wines at college; John was to be a reading
+man who must avoid such things as he would avoid the devil himself, not
+only because he was too wretchedly poor to have any share whatever in the
+amusements of Cornelius and his set, but because every minute was
+important, every hour meant not only learning but meant, most
+emphatically, money. He thought of his poor father, grinding out the life
+of a literary hack in a wretched London lodging, dining Heaven knew where
+and generally supping not at all, saving every penny to help his son's
+education, hard working, honest, lacking no virtue except the virtue of
+all virtues--success. Then he thought how he himself had been favoured by
+fortune during these last years, living under the vicar's roof, treated
+with the same consideration as the high-born young gentlemen who had been
+his companions, living well, sleeping well and getting the best education
+in England for nothing or next to nothing, while that same father of his
+had never ceased to slave day and night with his pen, honestly doing his
+best and yet enjoying none of the good things of life. John thought of
+all this and set his teeth boldly to face the world. A few months, he
+thought, and he might have earned a scholarship--he might be independent.
+Then a little longer--less than three years--and he might, nay, he would,
+take high honours in the university and come back crowned with glory,
+with the prospect of a fellowship, with every profession open to him,
+with the world at his feet and with money in his hand to help his father
+out of all his troubles.
+
+That was how John Short went to Trinity. It was a hard struggle at first,
+for he found himself much poorer than he had imagined, and it seemed as
+though the ends could not possibly meet. There was no question of denying
+himself luxuries; that would have been easy enough. In those first months
+it was the necessities that he lacked, the coals for his little grate,
+the oil for his one small lamp. But he fought bravely through it, having,
+like many another young fellow who has weathered the storms of poverty in
+pursuit of learning, an iron constitution, and an even stronger will. He
+used to say long afterwards that feeling cold was a mere habit and that
+when one thoroughly understood the construction of Greek verses, some
+stimulus of physical discomfort was necessary to make the imagination
+work well; in support of which assertion he said that he had never done
+such good things by the comfortable fire in the study at Billingsfield
+vicarage as he did afterwards on winter nights by the light of a tallow
+candle, high up in Neville's Court. Moreover, if any one argued that it
+was better for an extremely poor man not to go to Trinity, but to some
+much smaller college, he answered that as far as he himself was concerned
+he could not have done better, which was quite true and therefore
+perfectly unanswerable. Where the competition was less, he would have
+been satisfied with less, he said; where it was greatest a man could only
+be contented when he had reached the highest point possible. But before
+he attained his end he suffered more than any one knew, especially during
+those first months. For when he had got his first scholarship, he
+insisted upon sending back the little sums of hard-earned money his
+father sent him from time to time, and he consequently had nearly as hard
+work as before to keep himself warm and to keep oil in his lamp during
+the long winter's evenings. But he succeeded, nevertheless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+In the month of October of that year, a short time after John had taken
+up his abode in Trinity College, an event occurred which shook
+Billingsfield to its foundations; no less an event than the occupation of
+the dwelling known as the "cottage." What the cottage was will appear
+hereafter. The arrival of the new tenants occurred in the following
+manner.
+
+The Reverend Augustin Ambrose received a letter, which he immediately
+showed to his wife, as he showed most of his correspondence; for he was
+of the disposition which may be termed wife-consulting. Married men are
+generally of two kinds; those who tell their wives everything and those
+who tell them nothing. It is evident that the relative merits of the two
+systems depend chiefly upon the relative merits of the wives in question.
+Mr. Ambrose had no doubt of the advantages of his own method and he
+carried it to its furthest expression, for he never did anything whatever
+without consulting his better half. On the whole the plan worked well,
+for the vicar had learning and his wife had common sense. He therefore
+showed the letter to her and she read it, and read it again, and finally
+put it away, writing across the envelope in her own large, clear hand the
+words--Goddard, Cottage--indicative of the contents.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"MY DEAR SIR--It is now nearly five months since I saw you last. Need I
+tell you that the sense of your kindness is still fresh in my memory? You
+do not know, indeed you cannot know, what an impression your goodness
+made upon me. You showed me that I was acting rightly. It has been so
+hard to act rightly. Of course you quite understand what I mean. I cannot
+refer to the great sorrow which has overtaken me and my dear innocent
+little Nellie. There is no use in referring to it, for I have told you
+all. You allowed me to unburden my heart to you during my brief visit,
+and ever since that day I have felt very much, I may say infinitely,
+relieved.
+
+"I am again about to ask you a favour; I trust indeed that I am not
+asking too much, but I know by experience how kind you are and so I am
+not afraid to ask this too. Do you remember speaking to me of the little
+cottage? The picture you drew of it quite charmed me, and I have
+determined to take it, that is, if it is still to be let and if it is not
+asking quite too much of you. I mean, if you will take it for me. You
+cannot think how grateful I shall be and I enclose a cheque. I am almost
+sure you said thirty-six pounds. It was thirty-six, was it not? The
+reason I venture to enclose the money is because you are so very kind,
+but of course you do not know anything certain about me. But I am sure
+you will understand. You said you were sure I could live with my little
+girl in Billingsfield for three hundred a year. I find I have a little
+more, in fact nearly five hundred. If you tell me that I can have the
+cottage, I will come down at once, for town is very dreary and we have
+been here all summer except a week at Margate. Let me thank you again,
+you have been so very kind, and believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely
+yours,
+
+"MARY GODDARD."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Augustin, my dear, this is very exciting," said Mrs. Ambrose, as she
+handed the cheque to her husband for inspection and returned the
+letter to its envelope, preparatory to marking it for future reference;
+and when, as has been said, she had written upon the outside the
+words--Goddard, Cottage, and had put it away she turned upon her husband
+with an inquiring manner peculiar to her. Mr. Ambrose was standing before
+the window, looking out at the rain and occasionally glancing at the
+cheque he still held in his hand.
+
+"Just like a woman to send a cheque to 'bearer' through the post," he
+remarked, severely. "However since I have got it, it is all right."
+
+"I don't think it is all right, Augustin," said his wife. "We are taking
+a great responsibility in bringing her into the parish. I am quite sure
+she is a dissenter or a Romanist or something dreadful, to begin with."
+
+"My dear," answered the vicar, mildly, "you make very uncharitable
+suppositions. It seems to me that the most one can say of her is that she
+is very unhappy and that she does not write very good English."
+
+"Oh, I have no doubt she is very unhappy. But as you say we must not be
+uncharitable. I suppose you will have to write about the cottage."
+
+"I suppose so," said Mr. Ambrose doubtfully. "I cannot send her back the
+money, and the cottage is certainly to let."
+
+He deposited the cheque in the drawer of his writing-table and began to
+walk up and down the room, glancing up from time to time at his wife who
+was lifting one after another the ornaments which stood upon the
+chimney-piece, in order to ascertain whether Susan had dusted underneath
+them. She had many ways of assuring herself that people did their work
+properly.
+
+"No," said she, "you cannot send her back the money. But it is a very
+solemn responsibility. I hope we are doing quite right."
+
+"I certainly would not hesitate to return the cheque, my dear, if I
+thought any harm would come of Mrs. Goddard's living here. But I don't
+think there is any reason to doubt her story."
+
+"Of course not. It was in the _Standard_, so there is no doubt about it.
+I only hope no one else reads the papers here."
+
+"They read them in the kitchen," added Mrs. Ambrose presently, "and they
+probably take a paper at the Duke's Head. Mr. Boosey is rather a literary
+character."
+
+"Nobody will suppose it was that Goddard, my dear," said the vicar in a
+reassuring tone of voice.
+
+"No--you had better write about the cottage."
+
+"I will," said the vicar; and he forthwith did. And moreover, with his
+usual willingness to give himself trouble for other people, he took a
+vast deal of pains to see that the cottage was really habitable. It
+turned out to be in very good condition. It was a pretty place enough,
+standing ten yards back from the road, beyond the village, just opposite
+the gates of the park; a little square house of red brick with a high
+pointed roof and a little garden. The walls were overgrown with creepers
+which had once been trained with considerable care, but which during the
+last two years had thriven in untrimmed luxuriance and now covered the
+whole of the side of the house which faced the road. So thickly did they
+grow that it was with difficulty that the windows could at first be
+opened. The vicar sighed as he entered the darkened rooms. His daughter
+had lived in the cottage when she first married the young doctor who had
+now gone to London, and the vicar had been, and was, very fond of his
+daughter. He had almost despaired of ever seeing her again in
+Billingsfield; the only glimpses of her he could obtain were got by going
+himself to town, for the doctor was so busy that he always put off the
+projected visit to the country and his wife was so fond of him that she
+refused to go alone. The vicar sighed as he forced open the windows upon
+the lower floor and let the light into the bare and empty rooms which had
+once been so bright and full of happiness. He wondered what sort of
+person Mrs. Goddard would turn out to be upon nearer acquaintance, and
+made vague, unconscious conjectures about her furniture as he stumbled
+up the dark stairs to the upper story.
+
+He was not left long in doubt. The arrangements were easily concluded,
+for the cottage belonged to the estate in Chancery and the lawyer in
+charge was very busy with other matters. The guarantee afforded by the
+vicar's personal application, together with the payment of a year's rent
+in advance so far facilitated matters that four days after she had
+written to Mr. Ambrose the latter informed Mrs. Goddard that she was at
+liberty to take possession. The vicar suggested that the Billingsfield
+carrier, who drove his cart to London once a week, could bring her
+furniture down in two trips and save her a considerable expense; Mrs.
+Goddard accepted this advice and in the course of a fortnight was
+installed with all her goods in the cottage. Having completed her
+arrangements at last, she came to call upon the vicar's wife.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had not changed since she had first visited Billingsfield,
+five months earlier, though little Eleanor had grown taller and was if
+possible prettier than ever. Something of the character of the lady in
+black may have been gathered from the style of her letter to Mr. Ambrose;
+that communication had impressed the vicar's wife unfavourably and had
+drawn from her husband a somewhat compassionate remark about the bad
+English it contained. Nevertheless when Mrs. Goddard came to live in
+Billingsfield the Ambroses soon discovered that she was a very
+well-educated woman, that she appeared to have read much and to have read
+intelligently, and that she was on the whole decidedly interesting. It
+was long, however, before Mrs. Ambrose entirely conquered a certain
+antipathy she felt for her, and which she explained after her own
+fashion. Mrs. Goddard was not a dissenter and she was not a Romanist; on
+the contrary she appeared to be a very good churchwoman. She paid her
+bills regularly and never gave anybody any trouble. She visited the
+vicarage at stated intervals, and the vicarage graciously returned her
+visits. The vicar himself even went to the cottage more often than Mrs.
+Ambrose thought strictly necessary, for the vicar was strongly prejudiced
+in her favour. But Mrs. Ambrose did not share that prejudice. Mrs.
+Goddard, she said, was too effusive, talked too much about herself and
+her troubles, did not look thoroughly straightforward, probably had
+foreign blood. Ay, there was the rub--Mrs. Ambrose suspected that Mrs.
+Goddard was not quite English. If she was not, why did she not say so,
+and be done with it?
+
+Mrs. Goddard was English, nevertheless, and would have been very much
+surprised could she have guessed the secret cause of the slight coldness
+she sometimes observed in the manner of the clergyman's wife towards her.
+She herself, poor thing, believed it was because she was in trouble, and
+considering the nature of the disaster which had befallen her, she was
+not surprised. She was rather a weak woman, rather timid, and if she
+talked a little too much sometimes it was because she felt embarrassed;
+there were times, too, when she was very silent and sad. She had been
+very happy and the great catastrophe had overtaken her suddenly, leaving
+her absolutely without friends. She wanted to be hidden from the world,
+and by one of those strange contrasts often found in weak people she had
+suddenly made a very bold resolution and had successfully carried it out.
+She had come straight to a man she had never seen, but whom she knew very
+well by reputation, and had told him her story and asked him to help her;
+and she had not come in vain. The person who advised her to go to the
+Reverend Augustin Ambrose knew that there was not a better man to whom
+she could apply. She had found what she wanted, a sort of deserted
+village where she would never be obliged to meet any one, since there was
+absolutely no society; she had found a good man upon whom she felt she
+could rely in case of further difficulty; and she had not come upon false
+pretences, for she had told her whole story quite frankly. For a woman
+who was naturally timid she had done a thing requiring considerable
+courage, and she was astonished at her own boldness after she had done
+it. But in her peaceful retreat, she reflected that she could not
+possibly have left England, as many women in her position would have
+done, simply because the idea of exile was intolerable to her; she
+reflected also that if she had settled in any place where there was any
+sort of society her story would one day have become known, and that if
+she had spent years in studying her situation she could not have done
+better than in going boldly to the vicar of Billingsfield and explaining
+her sad position to him. She had found a haven of rest after many months
+of terrible anxiety and she hoped that she might end her days in peace
+and in the spot she had chosen. But she was very young--not thirty years
+of age yet--and her little girl would soon grow up--and then? Evidently
+her dream of peace was likely to be of limited duration; but she resigned
+herself to the unpleasant possibilities of the future with a good grace,
+in consideration of the advantages she enjoyed in the present.
+
+Mrs. Ambrose was at home when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor came to the
+vicarage. Indeed Mrs. Ambrose was rarely out in the afternoon, unless
+something very unusual called her away. She received her visitor with the
+stern hospitality she exercised towards strangers. The strangers she saw
+were generally the near relations of the young gentlemen whom her husband
+received for educational purposes. She stood in the front drawing-room,
+that is to say, in the most impressive chamber of that fortress which is
+an Englishman's house. It was a formal room, arranged by a fixed rule and
+the order of it was maintained inflexibly; no event could be imagined of
+such terrible power as to have caused the displacement of one of those
+chairs, of one of those ornaments upon the chimney-piece, of one of those
+engravings upon the walls. The walls were papered with one shade of
+green, the furniture was covered with material of another shade of green
+and the well-spared carpet exhibited still a third variety of the same
+colour. Mrs. Ambrose's sense of order did not extend to the simplest
+forms of artistic harmony, but when it had an opportunity of impressing
+itself upon inanimate objects which were liable to be moved, washed or
+dusted, its effects were formidable indeed. She worshipped neatness and
+cleanliness; she left the question of taste to others. And now she stood
+in the keep of her stronghold, the impersonation of moral rectitude and
+of practical housekeeping.
+
+Mrs. Goddard entered rather timidly, followed by little Eleanor whose
+ideas had been so much disturbed by the recent change in her existence,
+that she had grown unusually silent and her great violet eyes were
+unceasingly opened wide to take in the growing wonders of her situation.
+Mrs. Goddard was still dressed in black, as when John Short had seen her
+five months earlier. There was something a little peculiar in her
+mourning, though Mrs. Ambrose would have found it hard to define the
+peculiarity. Some people would have said that if she was really a widow
+her gown fitted a little too well, her bonnet was a little too small, her
+veil a little too short. Mrs. Ambrose supposed that those points were
+suggested by the latest fashions in London and summed up the difficulty
+by surmising that Mrs. Goddard had foreign blood.
+
+"I should have called before," said the latter, deeply impressed by the
+severe appearance of the vicar's wife, "but I have been so busy putting
+my things into the cottage--"
+
+"Pray don't think of it," answered Mrs. Ambrose. Then she added after a
+pause, "I am very glad to see you." She appeared to have been weighing in
+her conscience the question whether she could truthfully say so or not.
+But Mrs. Goddard was grateful for the smallest advances.
+
+"Thank you," she said, "you are so very kind. Will you tell Mr. Ambrose
+how thankful I am for his kind assistance? Yes, Nellie and I have had
+hard work in moving, have not we, dear?" She drew the beautiful child
+close to her and gazed lovingly into her eyes. But Nellie was shy; she
+hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and then looked doubtfully at Mrs.
+Ambrose, and then hid herself again.
+
+"How old is your little girl?" asked Mrs. Ambrose more kindly. She was
+fond of children, and actually pitied any child whose mother perhaps had
+foreign blood.
+
+"Eleanor--I call her Nellie--is eight years old. She will be nine in
+January. She is tall for her age," added Mrs. Goddard with affectionate
+pride. As a matter of fact Nellie was small for her years, and Mrs.
+Ambrose, who was the most truthful of women, felt that she could not
+conscientiously agree in calling hex tall. She changed the subject.
+
+"I am afraid you will find it very quiet in Billingsfield," she said
+presently.
+
+"Oh, I am used--that is, I prefer a very quiet place. I want to live very
+quietly for some years, indeed I hope for the rest of my life. Besides it
+will be so good for Nellie to live in the country--she will grow so
+strong."
+
+"She looks very well, I am sure," answered Mrs. Ambrose rather bluntly,
+looking at the child's clear complexion and bright eyes. "And have you
+always lived in town until now, Mrs. Goddard?" she asked.
+
+"Oh no, not always, but most of the year, perhaps. Indeed I think so."
+Mrs. Goddard felt nervous before the searching glance of the elder woman.
+Mrs. Ambrose concluded that she was not absolutely straightforward.
+
+"Do you think you can make the cottage comfortable?" asked the vicar's
+wife, seeing that the conversation languished.
+
+"Oh, I think so," answered her visitor, glad to change the subject, and
+suddenly becoming very voluble as she had previously been very shy. "It
+is really a charming little place. Of course it is not very large, but as
+we have not got very many belongings that is all the better; and the
+garden is small but extremely pretty and wild, and the kitchen is very
+convenient; really I quite wonder how the people who built it could have
+made it all so comfortable. You see there are one--two--the pantry, the
+kitchen and two rooms on the ground floor and plenty of room upstairs for
+everybody, and as for the sun! it streams into all the windows at once
+from morning till night. And such a pretty view, too, of that old gate
+opposite--where does it lead to, Mrs. Ambrose? It is so very pretty."
+
+"It leads to the park and the Hall," answered Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Oh--" Mrs. Goddard's tone changed. "But nobody lives there?" she asked
+suddenly.
+
+"Oh no--it is in Chancery, you know."
+
+"What--what is that, exactly?" asked Mrs. Goddard, timidly. "Is there a
+young heir waiting to grow up--I mean waiting to take possession?"
+
+"No. There is a suit about it. It has been going on for forty years my
+husband says, and they cannot decide to whom it belongs."
+
+"I see," answered Mrs. Goddard. "I suppose they will never decide now."
+
+"Probably not for some time."
+
+"It must be a very pretty place. Can one go in, do you think? I am so
+fond of trees--what a beautiful garden you have yourself, Mrs. Ambrose."
+
+"Would you like to see it?" asked the vicar's wife, anxious to bring the
+visit to a conclusion.
+
+"Oh, thank you--of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "Would not you
+like to run about the garden, Nellie?"
+
+The little girl nodded slowly and stared at Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"My husband is a very good gardener," said the latter, leading the way
+out to the hall. "And so was John Short, but he has left us, you know."
+
+"Who was John Short?" asked Mrs. Goddard rather absently, as she watched
+Mrs. Ambrose who was wrapping herself in a huge blue waterproof cloak and
+tying a sort of worsted hood over her head.
+
+"He was one of the boys Mr. Ambrose prepared for college--such a good
+fellow. You may have seen him when you came last June, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"Had he very bright blue eyes--a nice face?"
+
+"Yes--that is, it might have been Mr. Angleside--Lord Scatterbeigh's
+son--he was here, too."
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Goddard, "perhaps it was."
+
+"Mamma," asked little Nellie, "what is Laws Catterbay?"
+
+"A peer, darling."
+
+"Like the one at Brighton, mamma, with a band?"
+
+"No, child," answered the mother laughing. "P, double E, R, peer--a rich
+gentleman."
+
+"Like poor papa then?" inquired the irrepressible Eleanor.
+
+Mrs. Goddard turned pale and pressed the little girl close to her side,
+leaning down to whisper in her ear.
+
+"You must not ask foolish questions, darling--I will tell you by and by."
+
+"Papa was a rich gentleman," objected the child.
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked at Mrs. Ambrose, and the ready tears came into her
+eyes. The vicar's wife smiled kindly and took little Nellie by the hand.
+
+"Come, dear," she said in the motherly tone that was natural to her when
+she was not receiving visitors. "Come and see the garden and you can play
+with Carlo."
+
+"Can't I see Laws Catterbay, too?" asked the little girl rather
+wistfully.
+
+"Carlo is a great, big, brown dog," said Mrs. Ambrose, leading the child
+out into the garden, while Mrs. Goddard followed close behind. Before
+they had gone far they came upon the vicar, arrayed in an old coat, his
+hands thrust into a pair of gigantic gardening gloves and a battered old
+felt hat upon his head. Mrs. Goddard had felt rather uncomfortable in the
+impressive society of Mrs. Ambrose and the sight of the vicar's genial
+face was reassuring in the extreme. She was not disappointed, for he
+immediately relieved the situation by asking all manner of kindly
+questions, interspersed with remarks upon his garden, while Mrs. Ambrose
+introduced little Nellie to the acquaintance of Carlo who had not seen so
+pretty a little girl for many a day, and capered and wagged his feathery
+tail in a manner most unseemly for so clerical a dog.
+
+So it came about that Mrs. Goddard established herself at Billingsfield
+and made her first visit to the vicarage. After that the ice was broken
+and things went on smoothly enough. Mrs. Ambrose's hints concerning
+foreign blood, and her husband's invariable remonstrance to the effect
+that she ought to be more charitable, grew more and more rare as time
+went on, and finally ceased altogether. Mrs. Goddard became a regular
+institution, and ceased to astonish the inhabitants. Mr. Thomas Reid, the
+sexton, was heard to remark from time to time that he "didn't hold with
+th'm newfangle fashins in dress;" but he was a regular old conservative,
+and most people agreed with Mr. Abraham Boosey of the Duke's Head, who
+had often been to London, and who said she did "look just A one, slap up,
+she did!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard became an institution, and in the course of the first year
+of her residence in the cottage it came to be expected that she should
+dine at the vicarage at least once a week; and once a week, also, Mr. and
+Mrs. Ambrose went up and had tea with her and little Eleanor at the
+cottage. It came to pass also that Mrs. Goddard heard a vast deal of talk
+about John Short and his successes at Trinity, and she actually developed
+a lively interest in his career, and asked for news of him almost as
+eagerly as though he had been already a friend of her own. In very quiet
+places people easily get into the sympathetic habit of regarding their
+neighbours' interests as very closely allied to their own. The constant
+talk about John Short, the vicar's sanguine hopes for his brilliant
+future, and Mrs. Ambrose's unlimited praise of his moral qualities,
+repeated day by day and week by week produced a vivid impression on Mrs.
+Goddard's mind. It would have surprised her and even amused her beyond
+measure had she had any idea that she herself had for a long time
+absorbed the interest of this same John Short, that he had written
+hundreds of Greek and Latin verses in her praise, while wholly ignorant
+of her name, and that at the very time when without knowing him, she was
+constantly mentioning him as though she knew him intimately well, he
+himself was looking back to the one glimpse he had had of her, as to a
+dream of unspeakable bliss.
+
+It never occurred to Mr. Ambrose's mind to tell John in the occasional
+letters he wrote that Mrs. Goddard had settled in Billingsfield. John, he
+thought, could take no possible interest in knowing about her, and
+moreover, Mrs. Goddard herself was most anxious never to be mentioned
+abroad. She had come to Billingsfield to live in complete obscurity, and
+the good vicar had promised that as far as he and his wife were concerned
+she should have her wish. To tell even John Short, his own beloved pupil,
+would be to some extent a breach of faith, and there was assuredly no
+earthly reason why John should be told. It might do harm, for of course
+the young fellow had made acquaintances at Cambridge; he had probably
+read about the Goddard case in the papers, and might talk about it. If he
+should happen to come down for a day or two he would probably meet her;
+but that could not be avoided. It was not likely that he would come for
+some time. The vicar himself intended to go up to Cambridge for a day or
+two after Christmas to see him; but the winter flew by and Mr. Ambrose
+did not go. Then came Easter, then the summer and the Long vacation. John
+wrote that he could not leave his books for a day, but that he hoped to
+run down next Christmas. Again he did not come, but there came the news
+of his having won another and a more important scholarship; the news also
+that he was already regarded as the most promising man in the university,
+all of which exceedingly delighted the heart of the Reverend Augustin
+Ambrose, and being told with eulogistic comments to Mrs. Goddard, tended
+to increase the interest she felt in the existence of John Short, so that
+she began to long for a sight of him, without exactly knowing why.
+
+Gradually, too, as she and her little girl passed many peaceful days in
+the quiet cottage, the sad woman's face grew less sorrowful. She spoke of
+herself more cheerfully and dwelt less upon the subject of her grief. She
+had at first been so miserable that she could hardly talk at all without
+referring to her unhappy situation though, after her first interview with
+Mrs. Ambrose, no one had ever heard her mention any details connected
+with her trouble. But now she never approached the subject at all. Her
+face lost none of its pathetic beauty, it is true, but it seemed to
+express sorrow past rather than present. Meanwhile little Nellie grew
+daily more lovely, and absorbed more and more of her mother's attention.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Events of such stirring interest as the establishment of Mrs. Goddard in
+Billingsfield rarely come alone; for it seems to be in the nature of
+great changes to bring other changes with them, even when there is no
+apparent connection whatever between them. It took nearly two years for
+Billingsfield to recover from its astonishment at Mrs. Goddard's arrival,
+and before the excitement had completely worn off the village was again
+taken off its feet by unexpected news of stupendous import, even as of
+old Pompeii was overthrown by a second earthquake before it had wholly
+recovered from the devastation caused by the first. The shock was indeed
+a severe one. The Juxon estate was reported to be out of Chancery, and a
+new squire was coming to take up his residence at the Hall.
+
+It is not known exactly how the thing first became known, but there was
+soon no doubt whatever that it was true. Thomas Reid, the sexton, who
+remembered that the old squire died forty years ago come Michaelmas, and
+had been buried in a "wonderful heavy" coffin, Thomas Reid the stern
+censor of the vicar's sermons, a melancholic and sober man, so far lost
+his head over the news as to ask Mr. Ambrose's leave to ring the bells,
+Mr. Abraham Boosey having promised beer for the ringers. Even to the
+vicar's enlightened mind it seemed fitting that there should be some
+festivity over so great an event and the bells were accordingly rung
+during one whole afternoon. Thomas Reid's ringers never got beyond the
+first "bob" of a peal, for with the exception of the sexton himself and
+old William Speller the wheelwright, who pulled the treble bell, they
+were chiefly dull youths who with infinite difficulty had been taught
+what changes they knew by rote and had very little idea of ringing by
+scientific rule. Moreover Mr. Boosey was liberal in the matter of beer
+that day and the effect of each successive can that was taken up the
+stairs of the old tower was immediately apparent to every one within
+hearing, that is to say as far as five miles around.
+
+The estate was out of Chancery at last. For forty years, ever since the
+death of the old squire, no one had rightfully called the Hall his own.
+The heir had lived abroad, and had lived in such an exceedingly eccentric
+manner as to give ground for a suit _de lunatico inquirendo_, brought by
+another heir. With the consistency of judicial purpose which
+characterises such proceedings the courts appeared to have decided that
+though the natural possessor, the eccentric individual who lived abroad,
+was too mad to be left in actual possession, he was not mad enough to
+justify actual possession in the person of the next of kin. Proceedings
+continued, fees were paid, a certain legal personage already mentioned
+came down from time to time and looked over the estate, but the matter
+was not finally settled until the eccentric individual died, after forty
+years of eccentricity, to the infinite relief and satisfaction of all
+parties and especially of his lawful successor Charles James Juxon now,
+at last, "of Billingsfield Hall, in the county of Essex, Esquire."
+
+In due time also Mr. Juxon appeared. It was natural that he should come
+to see the vicar, and as it happened that he called late in the afternoon
+upon the day when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor were accustomed to dine
+at the vicarage, he at once had an opportunity of making the acquaintance
+of his tenant; thus, if we except the free-thinking doctor, it will be
+seen that Mr. Juxon was in the course of five minutes introduced to the
+whole of the Billingsfield society.
+
+He was a man inclining towards middle age, of an active and vigorous
+body, of a moderate intelligence and of decidedly prepossessing
+appearance. His features were of the strong, square type, common to men
+whose fathers for many generations have lived in the country. His eyes
+were small, blue and very bright, and to judge from the lines in his
+sunburned face he was a man who laughed often and heartily. He had an
+abundance of short brown hair, parted very far upon one side and brushed
+to a phenomenal smoothness, and he wore a full brown beard, cut rather
+short and carefully trimmed. He immediately won the heart of Mrs. Ambrose
+on account of his extremely neat appearance. There was no foreign blood
+in him, she was sure. He had large clean hands with large and polished
+nails. He wore very well made clothes, and he spoke like a gentleman.
+The vicar, too, was at once prepossessed in his favour, and even little
+Eleanor, who was generally very shy before strangers, looked at him
+admiringly and showed little of her usual bashfulness. But Mrs. Goddard
+seemed ill at ease and tried to keep out of the conversation as much as
+possible.
+
+"There have been great rejoicings at the prospect of your arrival," said
+the vicar when the new-comer had been introduced to both the ladies. "I
+fancy that if you had let it be known that you were coming down to-day
+the people would have turned out to meet you at the station."
+
+"The truth is, I rather avoid that sort of thing," said the squire,
+smiling. "I would rather enter upon my dominions as quietly as possible."
+
+"It is much better for the people, too," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. "Their
+idea of a holiday is to do no work and have too much beer."
+
+"I daresay that would not hurt them much," answered Mr. Juxon cheerfully.
+"By the bye, I know nothing about them. I have never been here before.
+My man of business wanted to come down and show me over the estate, and
+introduce me to the farmers and all that, but I thought it would be such
+a bore that I would not have him."
+
+"There is not much to tell, really," said Mr. Ambrose. "The society of
+Billingsfield is all here," he added with a smile, "including one of your
+tenants."
+
+"Are you my tenant?" asked Mr. Juxon pleasantly, and he looked at Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"Yes," said she, "I have taken the cottage."
+
+"The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the
+cottage?"
+
+"Such a pretty place," answered Mrs. Ambrose, "just opposite the park
+gate. You must have seen it as you came down."
+
+"Oh, is that it?" said the squire. "Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived
+there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall
+is a perfect wilderness."
+
+Mrs. Goddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into
+his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and
+her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession
+at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The
+idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance,
+and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he
+would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and
+the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors
+at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was
+at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her
+embarrassment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the
+cottage himself.
+
+"Do not be afraid, Mrs. Goddard," he said quickly, "I am not going to do
+anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it
+would be too small, you know."
+
+"Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity
+which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs.
+Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should
+have said that he was married as soon as he entered the room.
+
+"I have a very large family," answered the squire, and after enjoying for
+a moment the surprise he saw in Mrs. Ambrose's face, he added with a
+laugh, "I have a library of ten thousand volumes--a very large family
+indeed. Otherwise I have no encumbrances, thank heaven."
+
+"You are a scholar?" asked Mr. Ambrose eagerly.
+
+"A book fancier, only a book fancier," returned the squire modestly. "But
+I am very fond of the fancy."
+
+"What is a book fancier, mamma?" asked little Eleanor in a whisper. But
+Mr. Juxon heard the child's question.
+
+"If your mamma will bring you up to the Hall one of these days, Miss
+Goddard, I will show you. A book fancier is a terrible fellow who has
+lots of books, and is pursued by a large evil genius telling him he must
+buy every book he sees, and that he will never by any possibility read
+half of them before he dies."
+
+Little Eleanor stared for a moment with her great violet eyes, and then
+turning again to her mother, whispered in her ear.
+
+"Mamma, he called me Miss Goddard!"
+
+"Run out and play in the garden, darling," said her mother with a smile.
+But the child would not go and sat down on a stool and stared at the
+squire, who was immensely delighted.
+
+"So you are going to bring all your library, Mr. Juxon?" asked the vicar
+returning to the charge.
+
+"Yes--and I beg you will make any use of it you please," answered the
+visitor. "I have a great fondness for books and I think I have some
+valuable volumes. But I am no great scholar, as you are, though I read a
+great deal. I have always noticed that the men who accumulate great
+libraries do not know much, and the men who know a great deal have very
+few books. Now I will wager that you have not a thousand volumes in your
+house, Mr. Ambrose."
+
+"Five hundred would be nearer the mark," said the vicar.
+
+"The fewer one has the nearer one approaches to Aquinas's _homo unius
+libri_," returned the squire. "You are nine thousand five hundred degrees
+nearer to ideal wisdom than I am."
+
+Mr. Ambrose laughed.
+
+"Nevertheless," he said, "you may be sure that if you give me leave to
+use your books, I will take advantage of the permission. It is in writing
+sermons that one feels the want of a good library."
+
+"I should think it would be an awful bore to write sermons," remarked the
+squire with such perfect innocence that both the vicar and Mrs. Goddard
+laughed loudly. But Mrs. Ambrose eyed Mr. Juxon with renewed severity.
+
+"I should fancy it would be a much greater bore, as you call it, to the
+congregation if my husband never wrote any new ones," she said stiffly.
+Whereat the squire looked rather puzzled, and coloured a little. But Mr.
+Ambrose came to the rescue.
+
+"Yes, indeed, my wife is quite right. There are no people with such
+terrible memories as churchwardens. They remember a sermon twenty years
+old. But as you say, the writing of sermons is not an easy task when a
+man has been at it for thirty years and more. A man begins by being
+enthusiastic, then his mind gets into a groove and for some time, if he
+happens to like the groove, he writes very well. But by and by he has
+written all there is to be said in the particular line he has chosen and
+he does not know how to choose another. That is the time when a man needs
+a library to help him."
+
+"I really don't think you have reached that point, Mr. Ambrose," remarked
+Mrs. Goddard. She admired the vicar and liked his sermons.
+
+"You are fortunately not in the position of my churchwardens," answered
+Mr. Ambrose. "You have not been listening to me for thirty years."
+
+"How long have you been my tenant, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire.
+
+"Nearly two years," she answered thoughtfully, and her sad eyes rested a
+moment upon Mr. Juxon's face with an expression he remembered. Indeed he
+looked at her very often and as he looked his admiration increased, so
+that when he rose to take his leave the predominant impression of the
+vicarage which remained in his mind was that of her face. Something of
+the same fascination took hold of him which had seized upon John Short
+when he caught sight of Mrs. Goddard through the open door of the study,
+something of that unexpected interest which in Mrs. Ambrose had at first
+aroused a half suspicious dislike, now long forgotten.
+
+Before the squire left he invited the whole party to come and dine with
+him at the Hall on the following Saturday. He must have some kind of a
+house warming, he said, for he was altogether too lonely up there. Mrs.
+Goddard would bring Eleanor, of course; they would dine early--it would
+not be late for the little girl. If they all liked they could call it tea
+instead of dinner. Of course everything was topsy-turvy in the Hall, but
+they would excuse that. He hoped to establish friendly relations with his
+vicar and with his tenant--his fair tenant. Might he call soon and see
+whether there was anything that could be done to improve the cottage?
+Before the day when they were all coming to dine? He would call
+to-morrow, then. Anything that needed doing should be done, Mrs. Goddard
+might be sure. When the books arrived he would let Mr. Ambrose know, of
+course, and they would have a day together.
+
+So he went away, leaving the impression that he was a very good-natured
+and agreeable man. Even Mrs. Ambrose was mollified. He had shocked her by
+his remark about sermon writing, but he had of course not meant it, and
+he appeared to mean to be very civil. It was curious to see how all
+severity vanished from Mrs. Ambrose's manner so soon as the stranger who
+aroused it was out of sight and hearing. She appeared as a formidably
+stern type of the British matron to the chance visitors who came to the
+vicarage; but they were no sooner gone than her natural temper was
+restored and she was kindness and geniality itself.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard was very thoughtful. She was not pleased at the fact of
+an addition to the Billingsfield community, and yet she liked the
+appearance of the squire. He had declared his intention of calling upon
+her on the following day, and she would be bound to receive him. She was
+young, she had been shut off from the world for two years, and the
+prospect of Mr. Juxon's acquaintance was in itself not unpleasant; but
+the idea that he was to be permanently established in the Hall frightened
+her. She had felt since she came to Billingsfield that from the very
+first she had put herself upon a footing of safety by telling her story
+to the vicar. But the vicar would, not without her permission repeat that
+story to Mr. Juxon. Was she herself called upon to do so? She was a very
+sensitive woman, and her impressionable nature had been strongly affected
+by what she had suffered. An almost morbid fear of seeming to make false
+pretences possessed her. She was more than thirty years of age, it is
+true, but she saw plainly enough in her glass that she was more than
+passably good-looking still. There were one or two grey threads in her
+brown waving hair and she took no trouble to remove them; no one ever
+noticed them. There were one or two lines, very faint lines, in her
+forehead; no one ever saw them. She could hardly see them herself.
+Supposing--why should she not suppose it?--supposing Mr. Juxon were to
+take a fancy to her, as a lone bachelor of forty and odd might easily
+take a fancy to a pretty woman who was his tenant and lived at his gate,
+what should she do? He was an honest man, and she was a conscientious
+woman; she could not deceive him, if it came to that. She would have to
+tell him the whole truth. As she thought of it, she turned pale and
+trembled. And yet she had liked his face, she had told him he might call
+at the cottage, and her woman's instinct foresaw that she was to see him
+often. It was not vanity which made her think that the squire might grow
+to like her too much. She had had experiences in her life and she knew
+that she was attractive; the very fear she had felt for the last two
+years lest she should be thrown into the society of men who might be
+attracted by her, increased her apprehension tenfold. She could not look
+forward with indifference to the expected visit, for the novelty of
+seeing any one besides the vicar and his wife was too great; she could
+not refuse to see the squire, for he would come again and again until she
+received him; and yet, she could not get rid of the idea that there was
+danger in seeing him. Call it as one may, that woman's instinct of peril
+is rarely at fault.
+
+In the late twilight of the June evening Mrs. Goddard and Eleanor waited
+home together by the broad road which led towards the park gate.
+
+"Don't you think Mr. Juxon is very kind, mamma?" asked the child.
+
+"Yes, darling, I have no doubt he is. It was very good of him to ask you
+to go to the Hall."
+
+"And he called me Miss Goddard," said Eleanor. "I wonder whether he will
+always call me Miss Goddard."
+
+"He did not know your name was Nellie," explained her mother.
+
+"Oh, I wish nobody knew, mamma. It was so nice. When shall I be grown up,
+mamma?"
+
+"Soon, my child--too soon," said Mrs. Goddard with a sigh. Nellie looked
+at her mother and was silent for a minute.
+
+"Mamma, do you like Mr. Juxon?" she asked presently.
+
+"No, dear--how can one like anybody one has only seen once?"
+
+"Oh--but I thought you might," said Nellie. "Don't you think you will,
+mamma? Say you will--do!"
+
+"Why?" asked her mother in some surprise. "I cannot say anything about
+it. I daresay he is very nice."
+
+"It will be so delightful to go to the Hall to dinner and be waited
+on by big real servants--not like Susan at the vicarage, or Martha. Won't
+you like it, mamma? Of course Mr. Juxon will have real servants, just
+like--like poor papa." Nellie finished her speech rather doubtfully as
+though not sure how her mother would take it. Mrs. Goddard sighed again,
+but said nothing. She could not stop the child's talking--why should
+Nellie not speak of her father? Nellie did not know.
+
+"I think it will be perfectly delightful," said Nellie, seeing she got no
+answer from her mother, and as though putting the final seal of
+affirmation to her remarks about the Hall. But she appeared to be
+satisfied at not having been contradicted and did not return to the
+subject that evening.
+
+Mr. Juxon lost no time in keeping his word and on the following morning
+at about eleven o'clock, when Mrs. Goddard was just hearing the last of
+Nellie's lesson in geography and little Nellie herself was beginning to
+be terribly tired of acquiring knowledge in such very warm weather, the
+squire's square figure was seen to emerge from the park gate opposite,
+clad in grey knickerbockers and dark green stockings, a rose in his
+buttonhole and a thick stick in his hand, presenting all the traditional
+appearance of a thriving country gentleman of the period. He crossed the
+road, stopped a moment and whistled his dog to heel and then opened the
+wicket gate that led to the cottage. Nellie sprang to the window in wild
+excitement.
+
+"Oh what a dog!" she cried. "Mamma, _do_ come and see! And Mr. Juxon is
+coming, too--he has green stockings!"
+
+But Mrs. Goddard, who was not prepared for so early a visit, hastily put
+away what might be described as the debris of Nellie's lessons, to wit, a
+much thumbed book of geography, a well worn spelling book, a very
+particularly inky piece of blotting paper, a pen of which most of the
+stock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for
+several months, and an ancient doll, without the assistance of which, as
+a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could
+not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them,
+Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the
+time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was
+beginning to echo in the small passage, Mrs. Goddard had passed to the
+consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but
+in other respects she was presentable.
+
+"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her
+mother.
+
+"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing
+look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one
+moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky
+fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his
+coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of
+some gigantic beast plunging into the passage as the front door was
+opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured
+laugh from the squire.
+
+"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a
+dog he is, sir--"
+
+"Is Mrs. Goddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the
+collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire
+looked in. Martha fled down the passage.
+
+"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to
+exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage.
+
+"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression
+of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!"
+
+"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr.
+Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed
+and was glad of the diversion.
+
+"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a
+little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs.
+Goddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder,
+he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was
+given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a
+big dog is not it?"
+
+"Very," said Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an
+exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he
+combined with his gigantic strength and size a grace and swiftness of
+motion which no mastiff can possess. His smooth clean coat, of a
+perfectly even slate colour throughout, was without folds, close as a
+greyhound's, showing every articulation and every swelling muscle of his
+body. His broad square head and monstrous jaw betrayed more of the
+quickness and sudden ferocity of the tiger than those suggested by the
+heavy, lion-like jowl of the English mastiff. His ears, too, were close
+cropped, in accordance with the Russian fashion, and somehow the
+compactness this gave to his head seemed to throw forward and bring into
+prominence his great fiery eyes, that reflected red lights as he moved,
+and did not tend to inspire confidence in the timid stranger.
+
+"Do sit down," said Mrs. Goddard, and when the squire was seated Stamboul
+sat himself down upon his haunches beside him, and looked slowly from his
+master to the lady and back again, his tongue hanging out as though
+anxious to hear what they might have to say to each other.
+
+"I thought I should be sure to find you in the morning," began Mr. Juxon,
+after a pause. "I hope I have not disturbed you?"
+
+"Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished her lessons."
+
+"The fact is," continued the squire, "that I was going to survey the
+nakedness of the land which has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of
+the park I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist the
+temptation of calling. I had no idea we were such near neighbours."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "it is very near."
+
+Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not exactly at a loss for words,
+but Mrs. Goddard did not seem inclined to encourage the conversation. He
+saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable but that its
+arrangement betrayed a considerable taste for luxury. The furniture was
+of a kind not generally seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed
+part of some great establishment. The carpet itself was of a finer and
+softer kind than any at the Hall. The writing-table was a piece of richly
+inlaid work, and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe and
+valuable kind that are seen in rich men's houses. A clock which was
+undoubtedly of the Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece. On
+the walls were hung three or four pictures which, Mr. Juxon thought, must
+be both old and of great value. Upon a little table by the fireplace lay
+four or five objects of Chinese jade and Japanese ivory and a silver
+chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw, and wondered why such a
+very pretty woman, who possessed such very pretty things, should choose
+to come and live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield. And
+having seen and wondered he became interested in his charming tenant and
+endeavoured to carry on the conversation in a more confidential strain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"You have done more towards beautifying the cottage than I could have
+hoped to do," said Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one
+hand on Stamboul's great head.
+
+"It was very pretty of itself," answered Mrs. Goddard, "and fortunately
+it is not very big, or my things would look lost in it."
+
+"I should not say that--you have so many beautiful things. They seem to
+suit the place so well. I am sure you will never think of taking them
+away."
+
+"Not if I can help it--I am too glad to be quiet."
+
+"You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire.
+
+"No--not exactly that--only a little, after all. I have not been to
+Constantinople for instance," she added looking at the hound Mr. Juxon
+had brought from the East. "You are indeed a traveller."
+
+"I have travelled all my life," said the squire, indifferently, as though
+the subject of his wanderings did not interest him. "From what little I
+have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will find all the quiet you could
+wish, here. Really, I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for
+information. What sort of man is that excellent rector down there, whom I
+met last night?"
+
+The squire's tone became more confidential as he put the question.
+
+"Well--he is not a rector, to begin with," answered Mrs. Goddard with a
+smile, "he is the vicar, and he is a most good man, whom I have always
+found most kind."
+
+"I can readily fancy that," said Mr. Juxon. "But his wife seems to be of
+the severe type."
+
+"No--she struck me so at first, too. I think it is only with strangers.
+She is such a motherly sort of woman, you do not know! She only has that
+little manner when you first meet her."
+
+"What a strange thing that is!" remarked the squire, looking at Mrs.
+Goddard. "The natural belief of English people in each other's depravity
+until they have had time to make acquaintance! And is there no one else
+here--no doctor--no doctor's wife?"
+
+"Not a soul," answered Mrs. Goddard. "There is a doctor, but the vicarage
+suspects him of free thought. He certainly never goes to church. He has
+no wife."
+
+"This is the most Arcadian retreat I ever was in. Upon my word, I am a
+very lucky man."
+
+"I suppose that it must be a relief when one has travelled so much,"
+replied Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Or suffered very much," added the squire, half unconsciously, looking at
+her sad face.
+
+"Yes," she answered. At that moment the door opened and Nellie entered
+the room, having successfully grappled with the inkstains. She went
+straight to the squire, and held out her hand, blushing a little, but
+looking very pretty. Then she saw the huge head of Stamboul who looked up
+at her with a ferociously agreeable canine smile, and thwacked the carpet
+with his tail as he sat; Nellie started back.
+
+"Oh, what a dog!" she exclaimed. But very soon she was on excellent
+terms with him; little Nellie was not timid, and Stamboul, who liked
+people who were not afraid of him and was especially fond of children,
+did his best to be amusing.
+
+"He is a very good dog," remarked Mr. Juxon. "He once did me a very good
+service."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"I was riding in the Belgrade forest one summer. I was alone with
+Stamboul following. A couple of ruffians tried to rob me. Stamboul caught
+one of them."
+
+"Did he hurt him very much?"
+
+"I don't know--he killed him before the fellow could scream, and I shot
+the other," replied the squire calmly.
+
+"What a horrible story!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, turning pale. "Come
+here, Nellie--don't touch that dreadful dog!"
+
+"Do not be afraid--he is perfectly harmless. Come here Stamboul!" The
+huge beast obeyed, wagging his tail, and sat down at his master's feet,
+still looking rather wistfully at Nellie who had been playing with him.
+"You see," continued Mr. Juxon, "he is as quiet as a lamb--would not hurt
+a fly!"
+
+"I think it is dreadful to have such animals about," said Mrs. Goddard in
+a low voice, still looking at the dog with horror.
+
+"I am sorry I told you. It may prejudice you against him. I only meant to
+explain how faithful he is, that is all. You see a man grows fond of a
+creature that has saved his life."
+
+"I suppose so, but it is rather startling to see such an animal so near
+to one. I fear I am very nervous."
+
+"By the bye." said the squire with the bold irrelevancy of a man who
+wants to turn the subject, "are you fond of flowers?"
+
+"I?" said Mrs. Goddard in surprise. "Yes--very. Why?"
+
+"I thought you would not mind if I had the garden here improved a little.
+One might put in a couple of frames. I did not see any flowers about. I
+am so fond of them myself, you see, that I always look for them."
+
+"You are very kind," answered Mrs. Goddard. "But I would not have you
+take any trouble on my account. We are so comfortable and so fond of the
+cottage already--"
+
+"Well, I hope you will grow to like it even better," returned the squire
+with a genial smile. "Anything I can do, you know--" he rose as though to
+take his leave. "Excuse me, but may I look at that picture? Andrea del
+Sarto? Yes, I thought so--wonderful--upon my word, in a cottage in
+Billingsfield. Where did you find it?"
+
+"It was my husband's," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Ah--ah, yes," said the squire in a subdued tone. "I beg your pardon," he
+added, as people often do, unconsciously, when they fancy they have
+accidentally roused in another a painful train of thought. Then he turned
+to go. "We dine at half-past seven, you know, so as to be early for Miss
+Nellie," he said, as he went out.
+
+Mrs. Goddard was glad he was gone, though she felt that he was not
+unsympathetic. The story of the dog had frightened her, and her own
+mention of her husband had made her nervous and sad. More than ever she
+felt that fear of being in a false position, which had assailed her when
+she had first met the squire on the previous evening. He had at once
+opened relations with her in a way which showed that he intended to be
+intimate; he had offered to improve her cottage, had insisted upon making
+frames in her garden, had asked her to dinner with the Ambroses and had
+established the right to talk to her whenever he got a chance. He
+interested her, too, which was worse. His passing references to his
+travels and to his adventures, of which he spoke with the indifference
+of a man accustomed to danger, his unassuming manner, his frank
+ways--everything about him awakened her interest. She had supposed that
+in two years the very faculty of being interested by a man would be
+dulled if not destroyed; she found to her annoyance that though she had
+seen Mr. Juxon only twice she could not put him out of her thoughts. She
+was, moreover, a nervous, almost morbid, woman, and the natural result of
+trying to forget his existence was that she could think of nothing else.
+
+How much better it would be, she thought, if he knew her story from the
+first. He might then be as friendly as he pleased; there would be no
+danger in it, to him or to her. She almost determined to go at once and
+ask the vicar's advice. But by the time she had nearly made up her mind
+it was the hour for luncheon, and little Nellie's appetite was exigent.
+By the time lunch was over her determination had changed. She had
+reflected that the vicar would think her morbid, that, with his usual
+good sense, he would say there was no necessity for telling the squire
+anything; indeed, that to do so would be undignified. If the squire were
+indeed going to lead the life of a recluse as he proposed doing, he was
+not really a man to cause her any apprehension. If he had travelled about
+the world for forty years, without having his heart disturbed by any of
+the women he must have met in that time, he was certainly not the kind of
+man, when once he had determined to settle in his home, to fall in love
+with the first pretty woman he met. It was absurd; there was no
+likelihood of it; it was her own miserable vanity, she told herself,
+which made the thing seem probable, and she would not think any more
+about it. She, a woman thirty-one years of age, with a daughter who ere
+long would be growing up to womanhood! To be afraid of a mere stranger
+like Mr. Juxon--afraid lest he should fall in love with her! Could
+anything be more ridiculous? Her duty was to live quietly as she had
+lived before, to take no more notice of the squire than was necessary in
+order to be civil, and so all would be well.
+
+And so it seemed for a long time. The squire improved the garden of the
+cottage and Mrs. Goddard and Nellie, with the Ambroses, dined at the
+Hall, which at first seemed an exceedingly dreary and dismal place, but
+which, as they returned thither again and again, grew more and more
+luxurious, till the transformation was complete. Mr. Juxon brought all
+manner of things to the house; vans upon vans arrived, laden with boxes
+of books and pictures and oriental carpets and rare objects which the
+squire had collected in his many years of travel, and which he appeared
+to have stored in London until he had at last inherited the Hall. The
+longer the Ambroses and Mrs. Goddard knew him, the more singularly
+impressed they were with his reticence concerning himself. He appeared to
+have been everywhere, to have seen everything, and he had certainly
+brought back a vast collection of more or less valuable objects from his
+travels, besides the large library he had accumulated and which contained
+many rare and curious editions of ancient books. He was evidently a man
+of very good education, and a much better scholar than he was willing to
+allow. The vicar delighted in his society and when the two found
+themselves together in the great room which Mr. Juxon had lined with
+well-filled shelves, they remained for hours absorbed in literary and
+scholastic talk. But whenever the vicar approached the subject of the
+squire's past life, the latter became vague and gave ambiguous answers to
+any direct questions addressed to him. He evidently disliked talking of
+himself, though he would talk about anything else that occurred to him
+with a fluency which Mrs. Ambrose declared was the only un-English thing
+about him. The consequence was that the vicar became more and more
+interested in his new acquaintance, and though the squire was so frank
+and honest a man that it was impossible to suspect him of any doubtful
+action in the past, Mr. Ambrose suspected that he had a secret. Indeed
+after hearing the story Mrs. Goddard had confided to his ears, nothing
+would have surprised the vicar. After finding that so good, so upright
+and so honourable a woman as the fair tenant of the cottage could be put
+into such a singularly painful position as that in which she now found
+herself, it was not hard to imagine that this singular person who had
+inherited the Hall might also have some weighty reason for loving the
+solitude of Billingsfield.
+
+To chronicle the small events which occurred in that Arcadian parish,
+would be to overstep the bounds of permissible tediousness. In such
+places all events move slowly and take long to develop to their results.
+The passions which in our own quickly moving world spring up, flourish,
+wither and are cut down in a month require, when they are not stimulated
+by the fertilising heat of artificial surroundings, a longer period for
+their growth; and when that growth is attained they are likely to be
+stronger and more deeply rooted. It is not true that the study of them is
+less interesting, nor that they have less importance in themselves. The
+difficulty of narrative is greater when they are to be described, for it
+is necessary to carry the imagination in a short time over a long period,
+to show how from small incidents great results follow, and to show also
+how the very limited and trivial nature of the surroundings may cause
+important things to be overlooked. Amidst such influences acquaintance is
+soon made between the few persons so thrown together, but each is apt to
+regard such new acquaintance merely as bearing upon his or her own
+particular interests. It is surprising to see how people will live side
+by side in solitude, even in danger, in distant settlements, in the
+mining districts of the West, in up-country stations in India, on board
+ship, even, for months and years, without knowing anything of each
+other's previous history; whereas in the crowded centres of civilisation
+and society the first questions are "Where does he come from?" "What are
+his antecedents?" "What has he done in the world?" And unless a man can
+answer such inquiries to the general satisfaction he is likely to be
+heavily handicapped in the social race. But in more primitive situations
+men are ruled by more primitive feelings of mutual respect; it is
+considered that a man should not be pressed to speak of things he shows
+no desire to discuss and that, provided he does not interfere with his
+neighbour's wellbeing, his past life is nobody's business. One may feel
+curiosity concerning him, but under no circumstances is one justified in
+asking questions.
+
+For these reasons, although Mr. Juxon's arrival and instalment in the
+Hall were regarded with satisfaction by the little circle at
+Billingsfield, while he himself was at once received into intimacy and
+treated with cordial friendliness, he nevertheless represented in the
+minds of all an unsolved enigma. And to the squire the existence of one
+of the circle was at least as problematical as his own life could seem to
+any of them. The more he saw of Mrs. Goddard, the more he wondered at her
+and speculated about her and the less he dared to ask her any questions.
+But he understood from Mr. Ambrose's manner, that the vicar at least was
+in possession of her secret, and he inferred from what he was able to
+judge about the vicar's character that the latter was not a man to extend
+his friendship to any one who did not deserve it. Whatever Mrs. Goddard's
+story was, he felt sure that her troubles had not been caused by her own
+misconduct. She was in every respect what he called a good woman. Of
+course, too, she was a widow; the way in which she spoke of her husband
+implied that, on those rare occasions when she spoke of him at all.
+Charles James Juxon was a gentleman, whatever course of life he had
+followed before settling in the country, and he did not feel that he
+should be justified in asking questions about Mrs. Goddard of the vicar.
+Besides, as time went on and he found his own interest in her increasing,
+he began to nourish the hope that he might one day hear her story from
+her own lips. In his simplicity it did not strike him that he himself had
+grown to be an object of interest to her.
+
+Somehow, during the summer and autumn of that year, Mrs. Goddard
+contracted a habit of watching the park gate from the window of the
+cottage, particularly at certain hours of the day. It was only a habit,
+but it seemed to amuse her. She used to sit in the small bay window with
+her books, reading to herself or teaching Nellie, and it was quite
+natural that from time to time she should look out across the road. But
+it rarely happened, when she was installed in that particular place, that
+Mr. Juxon failed to appear at the gate, with his dog Stamboul, his green
+stockings, his stick and the inevitable rose in his coat. Moreover he
+generally crossed the road and, if he did not enter the cottage and spend
+a quarter of an hour in conversation, he at least spoke to Mrs. Goddard
+through the open window. It was remarkable, too, that as time went on
+what at first had seemed the result of chance, recurred with such
+invariable regularity as to betray the existence of a fixed rule. Nellie,
+too, who was an observant child, had ceased asking questions but watched
+her mother with her great violet eyes in a way that made Mrs. Goddard
+nervous. Nellie liked the squire very much but though she asked her
+mother very often at first whether she, too, was fond of that nice Mr.
+Juxon, the answers she received were not encouraging. How was it
+possible, Mrs. Goddard asked, to speak of liking anybody one had known so
+short a time? And as Nellie was quite unable to answer such an inquiry,
+she desisted from her questions and applied herself to the method of
+personal observation. But here, too, she was met by a hopeless
+difficulty. The squire and her mother never seemed to have any secrets,
+as Nellie would have expressed it. They met daily, and daily exchanged
+very much the same remarks concerning the weather, the garden, the
+vicar's last sermon. When they talked about anything else, they spoke of
+books, of which the squire lent Mrs. Goddard a great number. But this was
+a subject which did not interest Nellie very much; she was not by any
+means a prodigy in the way of learning, and though she was now nearly
+eleven years old was only just beginning to read the Waverley novels. On
+one occasion she remarked to her mother that she did not believe a word
+of them and did not think they were a bit like real life, but the
+momentary fit of scepticism soon passed and Nellie read on contentedly,
+not omitting however to watch her mother in order to find out, as her
+small mind expressed it, "whether mamma really liked that nice Mr.
+Juxon." Events were slowly preparing themselves which would help her to
+come to a satisfactory conclusion upon that matter.
+
+Mr. Juxon himself was in a very uncertain state of mind. After knowing
+Mrs. Goddard for six months, and having acquired the habit of seeing her
+almost every day, he found to his surprise that she formed a necessary
+part of his existence. It need not have surprised him, for in spite of
+that lady's surmise with regard to his early life, he was in reality a
+man of generous and susceptible temperament. He recognised in the
+charming tenant of the cottage many qualities which he liked, and he
+could not deny that she was exceedingly pretty. Being a strong man he was
+particularly attracted by the pathetic expression of her face, the
+perpetual sadness that was visible there when she was not momentarily
+interested or amused. Had he suspected her paleness and air of secret
+suffering to be the result of any physical infirmity, she would not have
+interested him so much. But Mrs. Goddard's lithe figure and easy grace of
+activity belied all idea of weakness. It was undoubtedly some hidden
+suffering of mind which lent that sadness to her voice and features, and
+which so deeply roused the sympathies of the squire. At the end of six
+months Mr. Juxon was very much interested in Mrs. Goddard, but despite
+all his efforts to be agreeable he seemed to have made no progress
+whatever in the direction of banishing her cares. To tell the truth, it
+did not enter his mind that he was in love with her. She was his tenant;
+she was evidently very unhappy about something; it was therefore
+undeniably his duty as a landlord and as a gentleman to make life
+easy for her.
+
+He wondered what the matter could be. At first he had been inclined to
+think that she was poor and was depressed by poverty. But though she
+lived very simply, she never seemed to be in difficulties. Five hundred
+pounds a year go a long way in the village of Billingsfield. It was
+certainly not want of money which made her unhappy. The interest of the
+sum represented by the pictures hung in her little sitting-room, not to
+mention the other objects of value she possessed, would have been alone
+sufficient to afford her a living. The squire himself would have given
+her a high price for these things, but in six months she never in the
+most distant manner suggested that she wished to part with them. The idea
+then naturally suggested itself to Mr. Juxon's mind that she was still
+mourning for her husband, and that she would probably continue to mourn
+for him until some one, himself for instance, succeeded in consoling her
+for so great a loss.
+
+The conclusion startled the squire. That was not precisely the part he
+contemplated playing, nor the species of consolation he proposed to
+offer. Mrs. Goddard was indeed a charming woman, and the squire liked
+charming women and delighted in their society. But Mr. Juxon was a
+bachelor of more than forty years standing, and he had never regarded
+marriage as a thing of itself, for himself, desirable. He immediately
+thrust the idea from his mind with a mental "_vade retro Satanas_!" and
+determined that things were very agreeable in their present state, and
+might go on for ever; that if Mrs. Goddard was unhappy that did not
+prevent her from talking very pleasantly whenever he saw her, which was
+nearly every day, and that her griefs were emphatically none of his
+business. Before very long however Mr. Juxon discovered that though it
+was a very simple thing to make such a determination it was a very
+different thing to keep it. Mrs. Goddard interested him too much. When he
+was with her he was perpetually longing to talk about herself instead of
+about the weather and the garden and the books, and once or twice he was
+very nearly betrayed into talking about himself, a circumstance so
+extraordinary that Mr. Juxon imagined he must be either ill or going mad,
+and thought seriously of sending for the doctor. He controlled the
+impulse, however, and temporarily recovered; but strange to say from that
+time forward the conversation languished when he found himself alone with
+Mrs. Goddard, and it seemed very hard to maintain their joint interest in
+the weather, the garden and the books at the proper standard of
+intensity. They had grown intimate, and familiarity had begun to breed a
+contempt of those petty subjects upon which their intimacy had been
+founded. It is not clear why this should be so, but it is true,
+nevertheless, and many a couple before Charles Juxon and Mary Goddard had
+found it out. As the interest of two people in each other increases their
+interest in things, as things, diminishes in like ratio, and they are
+very certain ultimately to reach that point described by the Frenchman's
+maxim--"a man should never talk to a woman except of herself or himself."
+
+If Mr. Juxon was not in love with Mary Goddard he was at least rapidly
+approaching a very dangerous state; for he saw her every day and could
+not let one day go by without seeing her, and moreover he grew silent in
+her company, to a degree which embarrassed her and made him feel himself
+more stupid than he had ever dreamed possible; so that he would sometimes
+stay too long, in the hope of finding something to say, and sometimes he
+would leave her abruptly and go and shut himself up with his books, and
+busy himself with his catalogues and his bindings and the arrangement of
+his rare editions. One day at last, he felt that he had behaved so very
+absurdly that he was ashamed of himself, and suddenly disappeared for
+nearly a week. When he returned he said he had been to town to attend a
+great sale of books, which was perfectly true; he did not add that the
+learned expert he employed in London could have done the business for him
+just as well. But the trip had done him no good, for he grew more silent
+than ever, and Mrs. Goddard even thought his brown face looked a shade
+paler; but that might have been the effect of the winter weather.
+Ordinary sunburn she reflected, as she looked at her own white skin in
+the mirror, will generally wear off in six months, though freckles will
+not.
+
+If Mr. Juxon was not in love, it would be very hard to say what Mary
+Goddard felt. It was not true that time was effacing the memory of the
+great sorrow she had suffered. It was there still, that memory, keen and
+sharp as ever; it would never go away again so long as she lived. But she
+had been soothed by the quiet life in Billingsfield; the evidences of the
+past had been removed far from her, she had found in the Reverend
+Augustin Ambrose one of those rare and manly natures who can keep a
+secret for ever without ever referring to its existence even with the
+person who has confided it. For a few days she had hesitated whether to
+ask the vicar's advice about Mr. Juxon or not. She had thought it her
+duty to allow Mr. Ambrose to tell the squire whatever he thought fit of
+her own story. But she had changed her mind, and the squire had remained
+in ignorance. It was best so, she thought; for now, after more than six
+months, Mr. Juxon had taken the position of a friend towards her, and, as
+she thought, showed no disposition whatever to overstep the boundaries of
+friendship. The regularity of his visits and the sameness of the
+conversation seemed of themselves a guarantee of his simple goodwill. It
+did not strike her as possible that if he were going to fall in love with
+her at all, that catastrophe should be postponed beyond six months from
+their first acquaintance. Nor did it seem extraordinary to her that she
+should actually look forward to those visits, and take pleasure in that
+monotonous intercourse. Her life was very quiet; it was natural that she
+should take whatever diversion came in her way, and should even be
+thankful for it. Mr. Juxon was an honest gentleman, a scholar and a man
+who had seen the world. If what he said was not always very original it
+was always very true, a merit not always conceded to the highest
+originality. He spoke intelligently; he told her the news; he lent her
+the newest books and reviews, and offered her his opinions upon them,
+with the regularity of a daily paper. In such a place, where
+communications with the outer world seemed as difficult as at the
+antipodes, and where the remainder of society was limited to the
+household of the vicarage, what wonder was it if she found Mr. Juxon an
+agreeable companion, and believed the companionship harmless?
+
+But far down in the involutions of her feminine consciousness there was
+present a perpetual curiosity in regard to the squire, a curiosity she
+never expected to satisfy, but was wholly unable to repress. Under the
+influence of this feeling she made remarks from time to time of an
+apparently harmless nature, but which in the squire promoted that strange
+inclination to talk about himself, which he had lately observed and which
+caused him so much alarm. He said to himself that he had nothing to be
+concealed, and that if any one had asked him direct questions concerning
+his past he would have answered them boldly enough. But he knew himself
+to be so singularly averse to dwelling on his own affairs that he
+wondered why he should now be impelled to break through so good a rule.
+Indeed he had not the insight to perceive that Mrs. Goddard lost no
+opportunity of leading him to the subject of his various adventures, and,
+if he had suspected it, he would have been very much surprised.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were far from guessing what an intimacy had sprung
+up between the two. Both the cottage and the Hall lay at a considerable
+distance from the vicarage, and though Mrs. Ambrose occasionally went to
+see Mrs. Goddard at irregular hours in the morning and afternoon, it was
+remarkable that the squire never called when she was there. Once Mrs.
+Ambrose arrived during one of his visits, but thought it natural enough
+that Mr. Juxon should drop in to see his tenant. Indeed when she called
+the two were talking about the garden--as usual.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+John Short had almost finished his hard work at college. For two years
+and a half he had laboured on acquiring for himself reputation and a
+certain amount of more solid advantage in the shape of scholarships.
+Never in that time had he left Cambridge even for a day unless compelled
+to do so by the regulations of his college. His father had found it hard
+to induce him to come up to town; and, being in somewhat easier
+circumstances since John had declared that he needed no further help to
+complete his education, he had himself gone to see his son more than
+once. But John had never been to Billingsfield and he knew nothing of the
+changes that had taken place there. At last, however, Short felt that he
+must have some rest before he went up for honours; he had grown thin and
+even pale; his head ached perpetually, and his eyes no longer seemed so
+good as they had been. He went to a doctor, and the doctor told him that
+with his admirable constitution a few days of absolute rest would do all
+that was necessary. John wrote to Mr. Ambrose to say that he would at
+last accept the invitation so often extended and would spend the week
+between Christmas and New Year's day at Billingsfield.
+
+There were great rejoicings at the vicarage. John had never been
+forgotten for a day since he had left, each successive step in his career
+had been hailed with hearty delight, and now that at last he was coming
+back to rest himself for a week before the final effort Mrs. Ambrose was
+as enthusiastic as her husband. Even Mrs. Goddard, who was not quite sure
+whether she had ever seen John or not, and the squire who had certainly
+never seen him, joined in the general excitement. Mrs. Goddard asked the
+entire party to tea at the cottage and the squire asked them to come and
+skate at the Hall and to dine afterwards; for the weather was cold and
+the vicar said John was a very good skater. Was there anything John could
+not do? There was nothing he could not do much better than anybody else,
+answered Mr. Ambrose; and the good clergyman's pride in his pupil was
+perhaps not the less because he had at first received him on charitable
+considerations, and felt that if he had risked much in being so generous
+he had also been amply rewarded by the brilliant success of his
+undertaking.
+
+When John arrived, everybody said he was "so much improved." He had got
+his growth now, being close upon one and twenty years of age; his blue
+eyes were deeper set; his downy whiskers had disappeared and a small
+moustache shaded his upper lip; he looked more intellectual but not less
+strong, though Mrs. Ambrose said he was dreadfully pale--perhaps he owed
+some of the improvement observed in his appearance to the clothes he
+wore. Poor boy, he had been but scantily supplied in the old days; he
+looked prosperous, now, by comparison.
+
+"We have had great additions to our society, since you left us," said the
+vicar. "We have got a squire at the Hall, and a lady with a little girl
+at the cottage."
+
+"Such a nice little girl," remarked Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+When John found out that the lady at the cottage was no other than the
+lady in black to whom he had lost his heart two years and a half before,
+he was considerably surprised. It would be absurd to suppose that the
+boyish fancy which had made so much romance in his life for so many
+months could outlast the excitements of the University. It would be
+absurd to dignify such a fancy by any serious name. He had grown to be a
+man since those days and he had put away childish things. He blushed to
+remember that he had spent hours in writing odes to the beautiful
+unknown, and whole nights in dreaming of her face. And yet he could
+remember that as much as a year after he had left Billingsfield he still
+thought of her as his highest ideal of woman, and still occasionally
+composed a few verses to her memory, regretting, perhaps, the cooling of
+his poetic ardour. Then he had gradually lost sight of her in the hard
+work which made up his life. Profound study had made him more prosaic and
+he believed that he had done with ideals for ever, after the manner of
+many clever young fellows who at one and twenty feel that they are
+separated from the follies of eighteen by a great and impassable gulf.
+The gulf, however, was not in John's case so wide nor so deep but what,
+at the prospect of being suddenly brought face to face, and made
+acquainted, with her who for so long had seemed the object of a romantic
+passion, he felt a strange thrill of surprise and embarrassment. Those
+meetings of later years generally bring painful disillusion. How many of
+us can remember some fair-haired little girl who in our childhood
+represented to us the very incarnation of feminine grace and beauty, for
+whom we fetched and carried, for whom we bound nosegays on the heath and
+stole apples from the orchard and climbed upon the table after desert, if
+we were left alone in the dining-room, to lay hands on some beautiful
+sweetmeat wrapped in tinsel and fringes of pink paper--have we not met
+her again in after-life, a grown woman, very, very far from our ideal of
+feminine grace and beauty? And still in spite of changes in herself and
+ourselves there has clung to her memory through all those years enough of
+romance to make our heart beat a little faster at the prospect of
+suddenly meeting her, enough to make us wonder a little regretfully if
+she was at all like the little golden-haired child we loved long ago.
+
+But with John the feeling was stronger than that. It was but two years
+and a half since he had seen Mrs. Goddard, and, not even knowing her
+name, had erected for her a pedestal in his boyish heart. There was
+moreover about her a mystery still unsolved. There was something odd and
+strange in her one visit to the vicarage, in the fact that the vicar had
+never referred to that visit and, lastly, it seemed unlike Mr. Ambrose to
+have said nothing of her settlement in Billingsfield in the course of all
+the letters he had written to John since the latter had left him. John
+dwelt upon the name--Goddard--but it held no association for him. It was
+not at all like the names he had given her in his imagination. He
+wondered what she would be like and he felt nervously anxious to meet
+her. Somehow, too, what he heard of the squire did not please him; he
+felt an immediate antagonism to Mr. Juxon, to his books, to his amateur
+scholarship, even to his appearance as described by Mrs. Ambrose, who
+said he was such a thorough Englishman and wondered how he kept his hair
+so smooth.
+
+It was not long before he had an opportunity of judging for himself of
+what Mr. Ambrose called the recent addition to Billingsfield society. On
+the very afternoon of his arrival the vicar proposed to walk up to the
+Hall and have a look at the library, and John readily assented. It was
+Christmas Eve and the weather, even in Essex, was sharp and frosty. The
+muddy road was frozen hard and the afternoon sun, slanting through the
+oak trees that bordered the road beyond the village, made no perceptible
+impression on the cold. The two men walked briskly in the direction of
+the park gate. Before they had quite reached it however, the door of the
+cottage opposite was opened, and Stamboul, the Russian bloodhound,
+bounded down the path, cleared the wicket gate in his vast stride, and
+then turning suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to wait for his
+master. But the dog instantly caught sight of the vicar, with whom he was
+on very good terms, and trotted slowly up to him, thrusting his great
+nose into his hand, and then proceeding to make acquaintance with John.
+He seemed to approve of the stranger, for he gave a short sniff of
+satisfaction and trotted back to the wicket of the cottage. At this
+moment Mrs. Goddard and Nellie came out, followed by the squire arrayed
+in his inevitable green stockings. There was however no rose in his coat.
+Whether the greenhouses at the Hall had failed to produce any in the
+bitter weather, or whether Mr. Juxon had transferred the rose from his
+coat to the possession of Mrs. Goddard, is uncertain. The three came out
+into the road where the vicar and John stood still to meet them.
+
+"Mrs. Goddard," said the clergyman, "this is Mr. Short, of whom you have
+heard--John, let me introduce you to Mr. Juxon."
+
+John felt that he blushed violently as he took Mrs. Goddard's hand. He
+would not have believed that he could feel so much embarrassed, and he
+hated himself for betraying it. But nobody noticed his colour. The
+weather was bright and cold, and even Mrs. Goddard's pale and delicate
+skin had a rosy tinge.
+
+"We were just going for a walk," she explained.
+
+"And we were going to see you at the Hall," said the vicar to Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Let us do both," said the latter. "Let us walk to the Hall and have
+a cup of tea. We can look at the ice and see whether it will bear
+to-morrow."
+
+Everybody agreed to the proposal, and it so fell out that the squire and
+the vicar went before while John and Mrs. Goddard followed and Nellie
+walked between them, holding Stamboul by the collar, and talking to him
+as she went. John looked at his companion, and saw with a strange
+satisfaction that his first impression, the impression he had cherished
+so long, had not been a mistaken one. Her deep violet eyes were still
+sad, beautiful and dreamy. Her small nose was full of expression, and was
+not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be. Her rich brown hair
+waved across her forehead as it did on that day when John first saw her;
+and now as he spoke with her, her mouth smiled, as he had been sure it
+would. John felt a curious sense of pride in her, in finding that he had
+not been deceived, that this ideal of whom he had dreamed was really and
+truly very good to look at. He knew little of the artist's rules of
+beauty; he had often looked with wonder at the faces in the illustrations
+to Dr. Smith's classical dictionary, and had tried to understand where
+the beauty of them lay, and at Cambridge he had seen and studied with
+interest many photographs and casts from the antiques. But to his mind
+the antique would not bear comparison for a moment with Mrs. Goddard, who
+resembled no engraving nor photograph nor cast he had ever seen.
+
+And she, too, looked at him, and said to herself that he did not look
+like what she had expected. He looked like a lean, fresh young Englishman
+of moderate intelligence and in moderate circumstances. And yet she knew
+that he was no ordinary young fellow, that he was wonderfully gifted, in
+fact, and likely to make a mark in the world. She resolved to take a
+proper interest in him.
+
+"Do you know," she said, "I have heard so much about you, that I feel as
+though I had met you before, Mr. Short."
+
+"We really have met," said John. "Do you remember that hot day when you
+came to the vicarage and I waked up Muggins for you?"
+
+"Yes--was that you? You have changed. That is, I suppose I did not see
+you very well in the hurry."
+
+"I suppose I have changed in two years and a half. I was only a boy then,
+you know. But how have you heard so much about me?"
+
+"Billingsfield," said Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, "is not a large
+place. The Ambroses are very fond of you and always talk of what you are
+doing."
+
+"And so you really live here, Mrs. Goddard? How long is it since you
+came? Mr. Ambrose never told me--"
+
+"I have been here more than two years--two years last October," she
+answered quietly.
+
+"The very year I left--only a month after I was gone. How strange!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked up nervously. She was frightened lest John should
+have made any deductions from the date of her arrival. But John was
+thinking in a very different train of thought.
+
+"Why is it strange?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, I hardly know," said John in considerable embarrassment. "I was only
+thinking--about you--that is, about it all."
+
+The answer did not tend to quiet Mrs. Goddard's apprehensions.
+
+"About me?" she exclaimed. "Why should you think about me?"
+
+"It was very foolish, of course," said John. "Only, when I caught sight
+of you that day I was very much struck. You know, I was only a boy, then.
+I hoped you would come back--but you did not." He blushed violently, and
+then glanced at his companion to see whether she had noticed it.
+
+"No," she said, "I did not come back for some time."
+
+"And then I was gone. Mr. Ambrose never told me you had come."
+
+"Why should he?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. I think he might. You see Billingsfield has been a
+sort of home to me, and it is a small place; so I thought he might have
+told me the news."
+
+"I suppose he thought it would not interest you," said Mrs. Goddard. "I
+am sure I do not know why it should. But you must be very fond of the
+place, are you not?"
+
+"Very. As I was saying, it is very like home to me. My father lives in
+town you know--that is not at all like home. One always associates the
+idea of home with the country, and a vicarage and a Hall, and all that."
+
+"Does one?" said Mrs. Goddard, picking her way over the frozen mud of the
+road. "Take care, Nellie, it is dreadfully slippery!"
+
+"How much she has grown," remarked John, looking at the girl's active
+figure as she walked before them. "She was quite a little girl when I saw
+her first."
+
+"Yes, she grows very fast," answered Mrs. Goddard rather regretfully.
+
+"You say that as though you were sorry."
+
+"I? No. I am glad to see her grow. What a funny remark."
+
+"I thought you spoke sadly," explained John.
+
+"Oh, dear no. Only she is coming to the awkward age."
+
+"She is coming to it very gracefully," said John, who wanted to say
+something pleasant.
+
+"That is the most any of us can hope to do," answered Mrs. Goddard with a
+little smile. "We all have our awkward age, I suppose."
+
+"I should not think you could remember yours."
+
+"Why? Do you think it was so very long ago?" Mrs. Goddard laughed.
+
+"No--I cannot believe you ever had any," said John.
+
+The boyish compliment pleased Mrs. Goddard. It was long since any one had
+flattered her, for flattery did not enter into the squire's system for
+making himself agreeable.
+
+"Do they teach that sort of thing at Cambridge?" she asked demurely.
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Making little speeches to ladies," said she.
+
+"No--I wish they did," said John, laughing. "I should know much better
+how to make them. We learn how to write Greek odes to moral
+abstractions."
+
+"What a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Do you think so? I do not know. Now, for instance, I have written a
+great many Greek odes to you--"
+
+"To me?" interrupted his companion in surprise.
+
+"Do you think it is so very extraordinary?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"Well--you see--I only saw you once--you won't laugh?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Goddard, who was very much amused, and was beginning to
+think that John Short was the most original young man she had ever met.
+
+"I only saw you once, when you came to the vicarage, and I had not the
+least idea what your name was. But I--I hoped you would come back; and so
+I used to write poems to you. They were very good, too," added John in a
+meditative tone, "I have never written any nearly so good as they were."
+
+"Really?" Mrs. Goddard looked at him rather incredulously and then
+laughed.
+
+"You said you would not laugh," objected John.
+
+"I cannot help it in the least," said she. "It seems so funny."
+
+"It did not seem funny to me, I can assure you," replied John rather
+warmly. "I thought it very serious."
+
+"You don't do it now, do you?" asked Mrs. Goddard, looking up at him
+quietly.
+
+"Oh no--a man's ideals change so much, you know," answered John, who felt
+he had been foolishly betrayed into telling his story, and hated to be
+laughed at.
+
+"I am very glad of that. How long are you going to stay here, Mr. Short?"
+
+"Until New Year's Day, I think," he answered. "Perhaps you will have time
+to forget about the poetry before I go."
+
+"I don't know why," said Mrs. Goddard, noticing his hurt tone. "I
+think it was very pretty--I mean the way you did it. You must be a born
+poet--to write verses to a person you did not know and had only seen
+once!"
+
+"It is much easier than writing verses to moral abstractions one has
+never seen at all," explained John, who was easily pacified. "When a man
+writes a great deal he feels the necessity of attaching all those
+beautiful moral qualities to some real, living person whom he can see--"
+
+"Even if he only sees her once," remarked Mrs. Goddard demurely.
+
+"Yes, even if he only sees her once. You have no idea how hard it is to
+concentrate one's faculties upon a mere idea; but the moment a man sees a
+woman whom he can endow with all sorts of beautiful qualities--why it's
+just as easy as hunting."
+
+"I am glad to have been of so much service to you, even
+unconsciously--but, don't you think perhaps Mrs. Ambrose would have done
+as well?"
+
+"Mrs. Ambrose?" repeated John. Then he broke into a hearty laugh. "No--I
+have no hesitation in saying that she would not have done as well. I am
+deeply indebted to Mrs. Ambrose for a thousand kindnesses, for a great
+deal more than I can tell--but, on the whole, I say, no; I could not have
+written odes to Mrs. Ambrose."
+
+"No, I suppose not. Besides, fancy the vicar's state of mind! She would
+have had to call him in to translate your poetry."
+
+"It is very singular," said John in a tone of reflection. "But, if I had
+not done all that, we should not be talking as we are now, after ten
+minutes acquaintance."
+
+"Probably not," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"No--certainly not. By the bye, there is the Hall. I suppose you have
+often been there since Mr. Juxon came--what kind of man is he?"
+
+"He has been a great traveller," answered his companion. "And then--well,
+he is a scholar and has an immense library--"
+
+"And an immense dog--yes, but I mean, what kind of man is he himself?"
+
+"He is very agreeable," said Mrs. Goddard quietly. "Very well bred, very
+well educated. We find him a great addition in Billingsfield."
+
+"I should think so, if he is all you say," said John discontentedly. His
+antagonism against Mr. Juxon was rapidly increasing. Mrs. Goddard looked
+at him in some surprise, being very far from understanding his tone.
+
+"I think you will like him," she said. "He knows all about you from the
+Ambroses, and he always speaks of you with the greatest admiration."
+
+"Really? It is awfully kind of him, I am sure. I am very much obliged,"
+said John rather contemptuously.
+
+"Why do you speak like that?" asked Mrs. Goddard gravely. "You cannot
+possibly have any cause for disliking him. Besides, he is a friend of
+ours--"
+
+"Oh, of course, then it is different," said John. "If he is a friend of
+yours--"
+
+"Do you generally take violent dislikes to people at first sight, Mr.
+Short?"
+
+"Oh, dear no. Not at all--at least, not dislikes. I suppose Mr. Juxon's
+face reminds me of somebody I do not like. I will behave like an angel.
+Here we are."
+
+The effect of this conversation upon the two persons between whom it took
+place was exceedingly different. Mrs. Goddard was amused, without being
+altogether pleased. She had made the acquaintance of a refreshingly young
+scholar whom she understood to be full of genius. He was enthusiastic,
+simple, seemingly incapable of concealing anything that passed through
+his mind, unreasonable and evidently very susceptible. On the whole, she
+thought she should like him, though his scornful manner in speaking of
+the squire had annoyed her. The interest she could feel in him, if she
+felt any at all, would be akin to that of the vicar in the boy. He was
+only a boy; brilliantly talented, they said, but still a mere boy. She
+was fully ten years older than he--she might almost be his mother--well,
+not quite that, but very nearly. It was amusing to think of his writing
+odes to her. She wished she could see translations of them, and she
+almost made up her mind to ask him to show them to her.
+
+John on the other hand experienced a curious sensation. He had never
+before been in the society of so charming a woman. He looked at her and
+looked again, and came to the conclusion that she was not only charming
+but beautiful. He had not the least idea of her age; it is not the manner
+of his kind to think much about the age of a woman, provided she is not
+too young. The girl might be ten. Mrs. Goddard might have married at
+sixteen--twenty-six, twenty-seven--what was that? John called himself
+twenty-two. Five years was simply no difference at all! Besides, who
+cared for age?
+
+He had suddenly found himself almost on a footing of intimacy with this
+lovely creature. His odes had served him well; it had pleased her to hear
+the story. She had laughed a little, of course; but women, as John knew,
+always laugh when they are pleased. He would like to show her his odes.
+As he walked through the park by her side he felt a curious sense of
+possession in her which gave him a thrill of exquisite delight; and when
+they entered the Hall he felt as though he were resigning her to the
+squire, which gave him a corresponding sense of annoyance. When an
+Englishman experiences these sensations, he is in love. John resolved
+that whatever happened he would walk back with Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Come in," said the squire cheerily. "We are not so cold as we used to be
+up here."
+
+A great fire of logs was burning upon the hearth in the Hall. Stamboul
+stalked up to the open chimney, scratched the tiger's skin which served
+for a rug, and threw himself down as though his day's work were done.
+Mr. Juxon went up to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"I think you had better take off your coat," he said. "The house is very
+warm."
+
+Mrs. Goddard allowed the squire to help her in removing the heavy black
+jacket lined and trimmed with fur, which she wore. John eyed the
+proceeding uneasily and kept on his greatcoat.
+
+"Thank you--I don't mind the heat," he said shortly when the squire
+suggested to him that he might be too warm. John was in a fit of
+contrariety. Mrs. Goddard glanced at him, as he spoke, and he thought he
+detected a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, which did not tend to smooth
+his temper.
+
+"You will have some tea, Mrs. Goddard?" said Mr. Juxon, leading the way
+into the library, which he regarded as the most habitable room in the
+house. Mrs. Goddard walked by his side and the vicar followed, while John
+and Nellie brought up the rear.
+
+"Is not it a beautiful place?" said Nellie, who was anxious that the
+new-comer should appreciate the magnificence of the Hall.
+
+"Can't see very well," said John, "it is so dark."
+
+"Oh, but it is beautiful," insisted Miss Nellie. "And they have lots of
+lamps here in the evening. Perhaps Mr. Juxon will have them lighted
+before we go. He is always so kind."
+
+"Is he?" asked John with a show of interest.
+
+"Yes--he brings mamma a rose every day," said Nellie.
+
+"Not really?" said John, beginning to feel that he was justified in
+hating the squire with all his might.
+
+"Yes--and books, too. Lots of them--but then, he has so many. See, this
+is the library. Is not it splendid!"
+
+John looked about him and was surprised. The last rays of the setting sun
+fell across the open lawn and through the deep windows of the great room,
+illuminating the tall carved bookcases, the heavily gilt bindings, the
+rich, dark Russia leather and morocco of the folios. The footsteps of the
+party fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet and almost insensibly the
+voices of the visitors dropped to a lower key. A fine large wood fire was
+burning on the hearth, carefully covered with a metal netting lest any
+spark should fly out and cause damage to the treasures accumulated in the
+neighbouring shelves.
+
+"Pray make yourself at home, Mr. Short," said the squire, coming up to
+John. "You may find something of interest here. There are some old
+editions of the classics that are thought rare--some specimens of
+Venetian printing, too, that you may like to look at. Mr. Ambrose can
+tell you more about them than I."
+
+John's feeling of antagonism, and even his resentment against Mr. Juxon,
+roused by Nellie's innocent remark about the roses, were not proof
+against the real scholastic passion aroused by the sight of rare and
+valuable books. In a few minutes he had divested himself of his greatcoat
+and was examining the books with an expression of delight upon his face
+which was pleasant to see. He glanced from time to time at the other
+persons in the room and looked very often at Mrs. Goddard, but on the
+whole he was profoundly interested in the contents of the library. Mrs.
+Goddard was installed in a huge leathern easy-chair by the fire, and the
+squire was handing her one after another a number of new volumes which
+lay upon a small table, and which she appeared to examine with interest.
+Nellie knew where to look for her favourite books of engravings and had
+curled herself up in a corner absorbed in "Hyde's Royal Residences." The
+vicar went to look for something he wanted to consult.
+
+"What do you think of our new friend?" asked Mrs. Goddard of the squire.
+She spoke in a low tone and did not look up from the new book he had just
+handed her.
+
+"He appears to have a very peculiar temper," said Mr. Juxon. "But he
+looks clever."
+
+"What do you think he was talking about as we came through the park?"
+asked Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"What?"
+
+"He was saying that he saw me once before he went to college, and--fancy
+how deliciously boyish! he said he had written ever so many Greek odes to
+my memory since!" Mrs. Goddard laughed a little and blushed faintly.
+
+"Let us hope, for the sake of his success, that you may continue to
+inspire him," said the squire gravely. "I have no doubt the odes were
+very good."
+
+"So he said. Fancy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard did not mean to walk home with John; but on the other hand
+she did not mean to walk with the squire. She revolved the matter in her
+mind as she sat in the library talking in an undertone with Mr. Juxon.
+She liked the great room, the air of luxury, the squire's tea and the
+squire's conversation. It is worth noticing that his flow of talk was
+more abundant to-day than it had been for some time; whether it was
+John's presence which stimulated Mr. Juxon's imagination, or whether
+Mrs. Goddard had suddenly grown more interesting since John Short's
+appearance it is hard to say; it is certain that Mr. Juxon talked better
+than usual.
+
+The afternoon, however, was far spent and the party had only come to make
+a short visit. Mrs. Goddard rose from her seat.
+
+"Nellie, child, we must be going home," she said, calling to the little
+girl who was still absorbed in the book of engravings which she had taken
+to the window to catch the last of the waning light.
+
+John started and came forward with alacrity. The vicar looked up; Nellie
+reluctantly brought her book back.
+
+"It is very early," objected the squire. "Really, the days have no
+business to be so short."
+
+"It would not seem like Christmas if they were long," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"It does not seem like Christmas anyhow," remarked John, enigmatically.
+No one understood his observation and no one paid any attention to it.
+Whereupon John's previous feeling of annoyance returned and he went to
+look for his greatcoat in the dark corner where he had laid it.
+
+"You must not come all the way back with us," said Mrs. Goddard as they
+all went out into the hall and began to put on their warm things before
+the fire. "Really--it is late. Mr. Ambrose will give me his arm."
+
+The squire insisted however, and Stamboul, who had had a comfortable nap
+by the fire, was of the same opinion as his master and plunged wildly at
+the door.
+
+"Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ambrose?" said Mrs. Goddard, looking
+rather timidly at the vicar as they stood upon the broad steps in the
+sparkling evening air. She felt that she was disappointing both the
+squire and John, but she had quite made up her mind. She had her own
+reasons. The vicar, good man, was unconsciously a little flattered by her
+choice, as with her hand resting on the sleeve of his greatcoat he led
+the way down the park. The squire and John were fain to follow together,
+but Nellie took her mother's hand, and Stamboul walked behind affecting
+an unusual gravity.
+
+"You must come again when there is more daylight," said Mr. Juxon to his
+companion.
+
+"Thank you," said John. "You are very good." He intended to relapse into
+silence, but his instinct made him ashamed of seeming rude. "You have a
+magnificent library," he added presently in a rather cold tone.
+
+"You have been used to much better ones in Cambridge," said the squire,
+modestly.
+
+"Do you know Cambridge well, Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Very well. I am a Cambridge man, myself."
+
+"Indeed?" exclaimed John, immediately discovering that the squire was not
+so bad as he had thought. "Indeed! I had no idea. Mr. Ambrose never told
+me that."
+
+"I am not sure that he is aware of it," said Mr. Juxon quietly. "The
+subject never happened to come up."
+
+"How odd!" remarked John, who could not conceive of associating with a
+man for any length of time without asking at what University he had
+been.
+
+"I don't know," answered Mr. Juxon. "There are lots of other things to
+talk about."
+
+"Oh--of course," said John, in a tone which did not express conviction.
+
+Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard walked briskly in front; so
+briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say,
+in order to keep up with them.
+
+"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, as they turned a
+bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and
+red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just
+above the fading glow.
+
+"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you
+see the new moon!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little
+closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether
+there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps
+Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the
+subject.
+
+"How do you like our John Short?" he asked.
+
+"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. Goddard. "He is so fresh and young."
+
+"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like
+what you fancied he would be?"
+
+"Well no--not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always
+thought he would be rather Byronic--the poetical type, if you know what
+I mean."
+
+"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of
+profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw."
+
+"Oh yes--I daresay," replied Mrs. Goddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure
+he must be very clever."
+
+So they chatted quietly as they walked down the park. But the squire and
+John did not make progress in their conversation, and by the time they
+reached the gate they had yielded to an awkward silence. They had both
+been annoyed because Mrs. Goddard had taken the vicar's arm instead of
+choosing one of themselves, but the joint sense of disappointment did not
+constitute a common bond of interest. Either one would have suffered
+anything rather than mention Mrs. Goddard to the other in the course of
+the walk. And yet Mr. Juxon might have been John's father. At the gate of
+the cottage they separated. The squire said he would turn back. Mrs.
+Goddard had reached her destination. John and the vicar would return to
+the vicarage. John tried to linger a moment, to get a word with Mrs.
+Goddard. He was so persistent that she let him follow her through the
+wicket gate and then turned quickly.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, rather suddenly, holding out her hand to say
+good-bye.
+
+"Oh, nothing," answered John. "That is--would you like to see one of
+those--those little odes of mine?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, if you like," she answered frankly, and then laughed.
+"Of course I would. Good-night."
+
+He turned and fled. The vicar was waiting for him, and eyed him rather
+curiously as he came back. Mr. Juxon was standing in the middle of the
+road, making Stamboul jump over his stick, backwards and forwards.
+
+"Good-night," he said, pausing in his occupation. The vicar and John
+turned away and walked homewards. Before they turned the corner towards
+the village John instinctively looked back. Mr. Juxon was still making
+Stamboul jump the stick before the cottage, but as far as he could see in
+the dusk, Mrs. Goddard and Nellie had disappeared within. John felt that
+he was very unhappy.
+
+"Mr. Ambrose," he began. Then he stopped and hesitated. "Mr. Ambrose," he
+continued at last, "you never told me half the news of Billingsfield in
+your letters."
+
+"You mean about Mrs. Goddard? Well--no--I did not think it would interest
+you very much."
+
+"She is a very interesting person," said John. He could have added that
+if he had known she was in Billingsfield he would have made a great
+sacrifice in order to come down for a day to make her acquaintance. But
+he did not say it.
+
+"She is a great addition," said the vicar.
+
+"Oh--very great, I should think."
+
+Christmas eve was passed at the vicarage in preparation for the morrow.
+Mrs. Ambrose was very active in binding holly wherever it was possible to
+put it. The mince-pies were tasted and pronounced a success, and old
+Reynolds was despatched to the cottage with a small basket containing a
+certain number of them as a present to Mrs. Goddard. An emissary appeared
+from the Hall with a variety of articles which the squire begged to
+contribute towards the vicar's Christmas dinner; among others a haunch of
+venison which Mrs. Ambrose pronounced to be in the best condition. The
+vicar retorted by sending to the Hall a magnificent Cottenham cheese
+which, as a former Fellow of Trinity, he had succeeded in obtaining.
+Moreover Mr. Ambrose himself descended to the cellar and brought up
+several bottles of Audit ale which he declared must be allowed to stand
+some time in the pantry in order to bring out the flavour and to be
+thoroughly settled. John gave his assistance wherever it was needed and
+enjoyed vastly the old-fashioned preparations for Christmas day. It was
+long since the season had brought him such rejoicing and he intended to
+rejoice with a good will towards men and especially towards the Ambroses.
+After dinner the whole party, consisting of three highly efficient
+persons and old Reynolds, adjourned to the church to complete the
+decorations for the morrow.
+
+The church of Billingsfield, known as St. Mary's, was quite large enough
+to contain twice the entire population of the parish. It was built upon a
+part of the foundations of an ancient abbey, and the vicar was very proud
+of the monument of a crusading Earl of Oxford which he had caused to be
+placed in the chancel, it having been discovered in the old chancel of
+the abbey in the park, far beyond the present limits of the church. The
+tower was the highest in the neighbourhood. The whole building was of
+gray rubble, irregular stones set together with a crumbling cement, and
+presented an appearance which, if not architecturally imposing, was at
+least sufficiently venerable. At the present time the aisles were full of
+heaped-up holly and wreaths; a few lamps and a considerable number of
+tallow candles shed a rather feeble light amongst the pillars; a crowd of
+school children, not yet washed for the morrow, were busy under the
+directions of the schoolmistress in decorating the chancel; Mr. Thomas
+Reid the conservative sexton was at the top of a tall ladder, presumably
+using doubtful language to himself as every third nail he tried to drive
+into the crevices of the stone "crooked hisself and larfed at him," as he
+expressed it; the organ was playing and a dozen small boys with three or
+four men were industriously practising the anthem "Arise, Shine,"
+producing strains which if not calculated altogether to elevate the heart
+by their harmony, would certainly have caused the hair of a sensitive
+musician to rise on end; three or four of the oldest inhabitants were
+leaning on their sticks in the neighbourhood of the great stove in the
+middle aisle, warming themselves and grumbling that "times warn't as they
+used to be;" Mr. Abraham Boosey was noisily declaring that he had
+"cartlods more o' thim greens" to come, and Muggins, who had had some
+beer, was stumbling cheerfully against the pews in his efforts to bring a
+huge load of fir branches to the foot of Mr. Thomas Reid's long ladder.
+It was a thorough Christmas scene and John Short's heart warmed as he
+came back suddenly to the things which for three years had been so
+familiar to him and which he had so much missed in his solitude at
+Cambridge. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose set to work and John followed their
+example. Even the prickly holly leaves were pleasant to touch and there
+was a homely joy in the fir branches dripping with half melted snow.
+
+Before they had been at work very long, John was aware of a little
+figure, muffled in furs and standing beside him. He looked up and saw
+little Nellie's lovely face and long brown curls.
+
+"Can't I help you, Mr. Short?" she asked timidly. "I like to help, and
+they won't let me."
+
+"Who are 'they'?" asked John kindly, but looking about for the figure of
+Nellie's mother.
+
+"The schoolmistress and Mrs. Ambrose. They said I should dirty my frock."
+
+"Well," said John, doubtfully, "I don't know. Perhaps you would. But you
+might hold the string for me--that won't hurt your clothes, you know."
+
+"There are more greens this year," remarked Nellie, sitting down upon the
+end of the choir bench where John was at work and taking the ball of
+string in her hand. "Mr. Juxon has sent a lot from the park."
+
+"He seems to be always sending things," said John, who had no reason
+whatever for saying so, except that the squire had sent a hamper to the
+vicarage. "Did he stay long before dinner?" he added, in the tone people
+adopt when they hope to make children talk.
+
+"Stay long where?" asked Nellie innocently.
+
+"Oh, I thought he went into your house after we left you," answered John.
+
+"Oh no--he did not come in," said Nellie. John continued to work in
+silence. At some distance from where he was, Mrs. Goddard was talking to
+Mrs. Ambrose. He could see her graceful figure, but he could hardly
+distinguish her features in the gloom of the dimly-lighted church. He
+longed to leave Nellie and to go and speak to her, but an undefined
+feeling of hurt pride prevented him. He would not forgive her for having
+taken the vicar's arm in coming home through the park; so he stayed where
+he was, pricking his fingers with the holly and rather impatiently
+pulling the string off the ball which Nellie held. If Mrs. Goddard wanted
+to speak to him, she might come of her own accord, he thought, for he
+felt that he had behaved foolishly in asking if she wished to see his
+odes. Somehow, when he thought about it, the odes did not seem so good
+now as they had seemed that afternoon.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had not seen him at first, and for some time she remained in
+consultation with Mrs. Ambrose. At last she turned and looking for Nellie
+saw that she was seated beside John; to his great delight she came
+towards him. She looked more lovely than ever, he thought; the dark fur
+about her throat set off her delicate, sad face like a frame.
+
+"Oh--are you here, too, Mr. Short?" she said.
+
+"Hard at work, as you see," answered John. "Are you going to help, Mrs.
+Goddard? Won't you help me?"
+
+"I wanted to," said Nellie, appealing to her mother, "but they would not
+let me, so I can only hold the string."
+
+"Well, dear--we will see if we can help Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard
+good-naturedly, and she sat down upon the choir bench.
+
+John never forgot that delightful Christmas Eve. For nearly two hours he
+never left Mrs. Goddard's side, asking her advice about every branch and
+bit of holly and following out to the letter her most minute suggestions.
+He forgot all about the squire and about the walk back from the park, in
+the delight of having Mrs. Goddard to himself. He pushed the school
+children about and spoke roughly to old Reynolds if her commands were not
+instantly executed; he felt in the little crowd of village people that he
+was her natural protector, and he wished he might never have anything in
+the world to do save to decorate a church in her company. He grew more
+and more confidential and when the work was all done he felt that he had
+thoroughly established himself in her good graces and went home to dream
+of the happiest day he had ever spent. The organ ceased playing, the
+little choir dispersed, the school children were sent home, Mr. Abraham
+Boosey retired to the bar of the Duke's Head, Muggins tenderly embraced
+every tombstone he met on his way through the churchyard, the
+"gentlefolk" followed Reynolds' lantern towards the vicarage, and Mr.
+Thomas Reid, the conservative and melancholic sexton, put out the lights
+and locked the church doors, muttering a sour laudation of more primitive
+times, when "the gentlefolk minded their business."
+
+For the second time that day, John and Mr. Ambrose walked as far as the
+cottage, to see Mrs. Goddard to her home. When they parted from her and
+Nellie, John was careful not to say anything more about the odes, a
+subject to which Mrs. Goddard had not referred in the course of the
+evening. John thanked her rather effusively for her help--he could never
+have got through those choir benches without her, he said; and the vicar
+added that he was very much obliged, too, and surreptitiously conveyed
+to Mrs. Goddard's hand a small package intended for Miss Nellie's
+Christmas stocking, from him and his wife, and which he had forgotten to
+give earlier. Nellie was destined to have a fuller stocking than usual
+this year, for the squire had remembered her as well as Mr. Ambrose.
+
+John went to bed in his old room at the vicarage protesting that he had
+enjoyed the first day of his holiday immensely. As he blew out the light,
+he thought suddenly how often in that very room he had gone to bed
+dreaming about the lady in black and composing verses to her, till
+somehow the Greek terminations would get mixed up with the Latin roots,
+the quantities all seemed to change places, and he used to fall asleep
+with a delicious half romantic sense of happiness always unfulfilled yet
+always present. And now at last it began to be fulfilled in earnest; he
+had met the lady in black at last, had spent nearly half a day in her
+company and was more persuaded than ever that she was really and truly
+his ideal. He did not go to sleep so soon as in the old days, and he was
+sorry to go to sleep at all; he wanted to enjoy all his delicious
+recollections of that afternoon before he slept and, as he recapitulated
+the events which had befallen him and recalled each expression of the
+face that had charmed him and every intonation of the charmer's voice, he
+felt that he had never been really happy before, that no amount of
+success at Cambridge could give him half the delight he had
+experienced during one hour in the old Billingsfield church, and that
+altogether life anywhere else was not worth living. To-morrow he would
+see Mrs. Goddard again, and the next day and the day after that and
+then--"bother the future!" ejaculated John, and went to sleep.
+
+He awoke early, roused by the loud clanging of the Christmas bells, and
+looking out he saw that the day was fine and cold and bright as Christmas
+day should be, and generally is. The hoar frost was frozen into fantastic
+shapes upon his little window, the snow was clinging to the yew branches
+outside and the robins were hopping and chirping over the thin crust of
+frozen snow that just covered the ground. The road was hard and brown as
+on the previous day, and the ice in the park would probably bear. Perhaps
+Mrs. Goddard would skate in the afternoon between the services, but
+then--Juxon would be there. "Never mind Juxon," quoth John to himself,
+"it is Christmas day!"
+
+At the vicarage and elsewhere, all over the land, those things were done
+which delight the heart of Englishmen at the merry season. Everybody
+shook hands with everybody else, everybody cried "Merry Christmas!" to
+his neighbour in the street, with an intonation as though he were saying
+something startlingly new and brilliant which had never been said before.
+Every labourer who had a new smock-frock put it on, and those who had
+none had at least a bit of new red worsted comforter about their throats
+and began the day by standing at their doors in the cold morning, smoking
+a "ha'p'orth o' shag" in a new clay pipe, greeting each other across the
+village street. Muggins, who had spent a portion of the night in
+exchanging affectionate Christmas wishes with the tombstones in the
+churchyard, appeared fresh and ruddy at an early hour, clad in the long
+black coat and tall hat which he was accustomed to wear when he drove Mr.
+Boosey's fly on great festivals. Most of the cottages in the single
+street sported a bit of holly in their windows, and altogether the
+appearance of Billingsfield was singularly festive and mirthful. At
+precisely ten minutes to eleven the vicar and Mrs. Ambrose, accompanied
+by John, issued from the vicarage and went across the road by the private
+path to the church. As they entered the porch Mr. Reid, who stood
+solemnly tolling the small bell, popularly nicknamed the "Ting-tang,"
+and of which the single rope passed down close to the south door,
+vouchsafed John a sour smile of recognition. John felt as though he had
+come home. Mrs. Goddard and Nellie appeared a moment afterwards and took
+their seats in the pew traditionally belonging to the cottage, behind
+that of the squire who was always early, and the sight of whose smoothly
+brushed hair and brown beard was a constant source of satisfaction to
+Mrs. Ambrose. John and Mrs. Ambrose sat on the opposite side of the
+aisle, but John's eyes strayed very frequently towards Mrs. Goddard; so
+frequently indeed that she noticed it and leaned far back in her seat to
+avoid his glance. Whereupon John blushed and felt that the vicar, who was
+reading the Second Lesson, had probably noticed his distraction. It was
+hard to realise that two years and a half had passed since he had sat in
+that same pew; perhaps, however, the presence of Mrs. Goddard helped him
+to understand the lapse of time. But for her it would have been very
+hard; for the vicar's voice sounded precisely as it used to sound; Mrs.
+Ambrose had not lost her habit of removing one glove and putting it into
+her prayer book as a mark while she found the hymn in the accompanying
+volume; the bright decorations looked as they looked years ago above the
+organ and round the chancel; from far down the church, just before the
+sermon, came the old accustomed sound of small boys shuffling their
+hobnailed shoes upon the stone floor and the audible guttural whisper of
+the churchwarden admonishing them to "mind the stick;" the stained-glass
+windows admitted the same pleasant light as of yore--all was unchanged.
+But Mrs. Goddard and Nellie occupied the cottage pew, and their presence
+alone was sufficient to mark to John the fact that he was now a man.
+
+The service was sympathetic to John Short. He liked the simplicity of it,
+even the rough singing of the choir, as compared with the solemn and
+magnificent musical services of Trinity College Chapel. But it seemed
+very long before it was all over and he was waiting for Mrs. Goddard
+outside the church door.
+
+There were more greetings, more "Merry Christmas" and "Many happy
+returns." Mrs. Goddard looked more charming than ever and was quite as
+cordial as on the previous evening.
+
+"How much better it all looked this morning by daylight," she said.
+
+"I think it looked very pretty last night," answered John. "There is
+nothing so delightful as Christmas decorations, is there?"
+
+"Perhaps you will come down next year and help us again?" suggested Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"Yes--well, I might come at Easter, for that matter," answered the young
+man, who after finding it impossible to visit Billingsfield during two
+years and a half, now saw no difficulty whatever in the way of making two
+visits in the course of six months. "Do you still decorate at Easter?" he
+asked.
+
+"Oh yes--do you think you can come?" she said pleasantly. "I thought you
+were to be very busy just then."
+
+"Yes, that is true," answered John. "But of course I could come, you
+know, if it were necessary."
+
+"Hardly exactly necessary--" Mrs. Goddard laughed.
+
+"The doctor told me some relaxation was absolutely indispensable for my
+health," said John rather sententiously.
+
+"You don't really look very ill--are you?" She seemed incredulous.
+
+"Oh no, of course not--only a little overworked sometimes."
+
+"In that case I have no doubt it would do you good," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Do you really think so?" asked John, hopefully.
+
+"Oh--that is a matter for your doctor to decide. I cannot possibly tell,"
+she answered.
+
+"I think you would make a very good doctor, Mrs. Goddard," said John
+venturing on a bolder flight.
+
+"Really--I never thought of trying it," she replied with a little laugh.
+"Good morning, Mr. Ambrose. Nellie wants to thank you for your beautiful
+present. It was really too good of you."
+
+The vicar came out of the vestry and joined the group in the path. Mrs.
+Ambrose, who had been asking Tom Judd's wife about her baby, also came
+up, and the squire, who had been presenting Mr. Reid with ten shillings
+for his Christmas box and who looked singularly bereaved without the
+faithful Stamboul at his heels, sauntered up and began congratulating
+everybody. In the distance the last of the congregation, chiefly the old
+women and cripples who could not keep up with the rest, hobbled away
+through the white gate of the churchyard.
+
+It had been previously agreed that if the ice would bear there should be
+skating in the afternoon and the squire was anxious to inform the party
+that the pond was in excellent condition.
+
+"As black as your hat," he said cheerfully. "Stamboul and I have been
+sliding all over it, so of course it would bear an ox. It did not crack
+anywhere."
+
+"Do you skate, Mrs. Goddard?" asked John.
+
+"Not very well--not nearly so well as Nellie. But I am very fond of it."
+
+"Will you let me push you about in a chair, then? It is capital fun."
+
+"Very good fun for me, no doubt," answered Mrs. Goddard, laughing.
+
+"I would rather do it than anything else," said John in a tone of
+conviction. "It is splendid exercise, pushing people about in chairs."
+
+"So it is," said the squire, heartily. "We will take turns, Mr. Short."
+The suggestion did not meet with any enthusiastic response from John, who
+wished Mr. Juxon were not able to skate.
+
+Poor John, he had but one idea, which consisted simply in getting Mrs.
+Goddard to himself as often and as long as possible. Unfortunately this
+idea did not coincide with Mr. Juxon's views. Mr. Juxon was an older,
+slower and calmer man than the enthusiastic young scholar, and though
+very far from obtruding his views or making any assertion of his rights,
+was equally far from forgetting them. He was a man more of actions than
+words. He had been in the habit of monopolising Mrs. Goddard's society
+for months and he had no intention of relinquishing his claims, even for
+the charitable purpose of allowing a poor student to enjoy his Christmas
+holiday and bit of romance undisturbed. If John had presented himself as
+a boy, it might have been different; but John emphatically considered
+himself a man, and the squire was quite willing to treat him as such,
+since he desired it. That is to say he would not permit him to "cut him
+out" as he would have expressed it. The result of the position in which
+John and Mr. Juxon soon found themselves was to be expected.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+John did not sleep so peacefully nor dream so happily that night as on
+the night before. The course of true love had not run smooth that
+afternoon. The squire had insisted upon having his share of the lovely
+Mrs. Goddard's society and she herself had not seemed greatly disturbed
+at a temporary separation from John. The latter amused her for a little
+while; the former held the position of a friend whose conversation she
+liked better than that of other people. John was disappointed and thought
+of going back to Cambridge the next day. So strong, indeed, was his
+sudden desire to leave Billingsfield without finishing his visit, that
+before going to bed he had packed some of his belongings into his small
+portmanteau; the tears almost stood in his eyes as he busied himself
+about his room and he muttered certain formulae of self-accusation as he
+collected his things, saying over and over in his heart--"What a fool I
+am! Why should she care for me? What am I that she should care for me?"
+etc. etc. Then he opened his window and looked at the bright stars which
+shone out over the old yew tree; but it was exceedingly cold, and so he
+shut it again and went to bed, feeling very uncomfortable and unhappy.
+
+But when he awoke in the morning he looked at his half-packed portmanteau
+and laughed, and instead of saying "What a fool I am!" he said "What a
+fool I was!"--which is generally and in most conditions of human affairs
+a much wiser thing to say. Then he carefully took everything out of the
+portmanteau again and replaced things as they had lain before in his
+room, lest perchance Susan, the housemaid, should detect what had passed
+through his mind on the previous evening and should tell Mrs. Ambrose.
+And from all this it appears that John was exceedingly young, as indeed
+he was, in spite of his being nearly one and twenty years of age. But
+doubtless if men were willing to confess their disappointments and
+foolish, impetuous resolutions, many would be found who have done
+likewise, being in years much older than John Short. Unfortunately for
+human nature most men would rather confess to positive wrong-doing than
+to any such youthful follies as these, while they are young; and when
+they are old they would rather be thought young and foolish than confess
+the evil deeds they have actually done.
+
+John, however, did not moralise upon his situation. The weather was again
+fine and as he dressed his spirits rose. He became magnanimous and
+resolved to forget yesterday and make the most of today. He would see
+Mrs. Goddard of course; perhaps he would show her a little coldness at
+first, giving her to understand that she had not treated him well on the
+previous afternoon; then he would interest her by his talk--he would
+repeat to her one of those unlucky odes and translate it for her benefit,
+making use of the freedom he would thus get in order to make her an
+unlimited number of graceful compliments. Perhaps, too, he ought to pay
+more attention to Nellie, if he wished to conciliate her mother. Women,
+he reflected, have such strange prejudices!
+
+He wondered whether it would be proper for him to call upon Mrs. Goddard.
+He was not quite sure about it, and he was rather ashamed of having so
+little knowledge of the world; but he believed that in Billingsfield he
+might run the risk. There had been talk of skating again that morning,
+and so, about ten o'clock, John told Mr. Ambrose he would go for a short
+walk and then join them all at the pond in the park. The project seemed
+good, and he put it into execution. As he walked up the frozen road, he
+industriously repeated in his mind the Greek verses he was going to
+translate to Mrs. Goddard; he had no copy of them but his memory was very
+good. He met half a dozen labourers, strolling about with their pipes
+until it was time to go and have a pint of beer, as is their manner upon
+holidays; they touched their hats to him, remembering his face well, and
+he smiled happily at the rough fellows, contrasting his situation with
+theirs, who from the misfortune of social prejudice were not permitted to
+go and call upon Mrs. Goddard. His heart beat rather fast as he went up
+to the door of the cottage, and for one unpleasant moment he again
+doubted whether it was proper for him to make such an early visit. But
+being bent on romantic adventure he rang boldly and inquired for Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+She was surprised to see John at that hour and alone; but it did not
+enter her head to refuse him admittance. Indeed as he stood in the little
+passage he heard the words which passed between her and Martha.
+
+"What is it, Martha?"
+
+"It's a young gentleman, mam. I rather think, mam, it's the young
+gentleman that's stopping at the vicarage."
+
+"Oh--ask him to come in."
+
+"In 'ere, mam?"
+
+"No--into the sitting-room," said Mrs. Goddard, who was busy in the
+dining-room.
+
+John was accordingly ushered in and told to wait a minute; which he did,
+surveying with surprise the beautiful pictures, the rich looking
+furniture and the valuable objects that lay about upon the tables. He
+experienced a thrill of pleasure, for he felt sure that Mrs. Goddard
+possessed another qualification which he had unconsciously attributed to
+her--that of being accustomed to a certain kind of luxury, which in
+John's mind was mysteriously connected with his romance. It is one of the
+most undefinable of the many indefinite feelings to which young men in
+love are subject, especially young men who have been, or are, very poor.
+They like to connect ideas of wealth and comfort, even of a luxurious
+existence, with the object of their affections. They desire the world of
+love to be new to them, and in order to be wholly new in their
+experience, it must be rich. The feeling is not so wholly unworthy as it
+might seem; they instinctively place their love upon a pedestal and
+require its surroundings to be of a better kind than such as they have
+been accustomed to in their own lives. King Cophetua, being a king, could
+afford to love the beggar maid, and a very old song sings of a "lady who
+loved a swine," but the names of the poor young men who have loved above
+their fortune and station are innumerable as the swallows in spring. John
+saw that Mrs. Goddard was much richer than he had ever been, and without
+the smallest second thought was pleased. In a few moments she entered the
+room. John had his speech ready.
+
+"I thought, if you were going to skate, I would call and ask leave to go
+with you," he said glibly, as she gave him her hand.
+
+"Oh--thanks. But is not it rather early?"
+
+"It is twenty minutes past ten," said John, looking at the clock.
+
+"Well, let us get warm before starting," said Mrs. Goddard, sitting down
+by the fire. "It is so cold this morning."
+
+John thought she was lovely to look at as she sat there, warming her
+hands and shielding her face from the flame with them at the same time.
+She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, but said nothing. She was still
+a little surprised to see him and wondered whether he himself had
+anything to say.
+
+"Yes," said John, "it is very cold--traditional Christmas weather. Could
+not be finer, in fact, could it?"
+
+"No--it could not be finer," echoed Mrs. Goddard, suppressing a smile.
+Then as though to help him out of his embarrassment by giving an impulse
+to the conversation, she added, "By the bye, Mr. Short, while we are
+warming ourselves why do not you let me hear one of your odes?"
+
+She meant it kindly, thinking it would give him pleasure, as indeed it
+did. John's heart leaped and he blushed all over his face with delight.
+Mrs. Goddard was not quite sure whether she had done right, but she
+attributed his evident satisfaction to his vanity as a scholar.
+
+"Certainly," he said with alacrity, "if you would like to hear it. Would
+you care to hear me repeat the Greek first?"
+
+"Oh, of all things. I do not think I have ever heard Greek."
+
+John cleared his throat and began, glancing at his hostess rather
+nervously from time to time. But his memory never failed him, and he went
+on to the end without a break or hesitation.
+
+"How do you think it sounds?" he asked timidly when he had finished.
+
+"It sounds very funny," said Mrs. Goddard. "I had no idea Greek sounded
+like that--but it has a pleasant rhythm."
+
+"That is the thing," said John, enthusiastically. "I see you really
+appreciate it. Of course nobody knows how the ancients pronounced Greek,
+and if one pronounced it as the moderns do, it would sound all wrong--but
+the rhythm is the thing, you know. It is impossible to get over that."
+
+Mrs. Goddard was not positively sure what he meant by "getting over the
+rhythm;" possibly John himself could not have defined his meaning very
+clearly. But his cheeks glowed and he was very much pleased.
+
+"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Goddard confidently. "But what does it all
+mean, Mr. Short?"
+
+"Would you really like to know?" asked John in fresh embarrassment. He
+suddenly realised how wonderfully delightful it was to be repeating his
+own poetry to the woman for whom it was written.
+
+"Indeed yes--what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in
+Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?"
+
+"Yes--you will promise not to be offended?"
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Goddard; then blushing a little she added, "it is
+quite--I mean--quite the sort of thing, is not it?"
+
+"Oh quite," said John, blushing too, but looking grave for a moment. Then
+he repeated the English translation of the verses which, as they were
+certainly not so good as the original, may be omitted here. They set
+forth that in the vault of the world's night a new star had appeared
+which men had not yet named, nor would be likely to name until the power
+of human speech should be considerably increased, and the verses dwelt
+upon the theme, turning it and revolving it in several ways, finally
+declaring that the far-darting sun must look out for his interests unless
+he meant to be outshone by the new star. Translated into English there
+was nothing very remarkable about the performance though the original
+Greek ode was undoubtedly very good of its kind. But Mrs. Goddard was
+determined to be pleased.
+
+"I think it is charming," she said, when John had reached the end and
+paused for her criticism.
+
+"The Greek is very much better," said John doubtfully. "I cannot write
+English verses--they seem to me so much harder."
+
+"I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard. "But did you really write that
+when--" she stopped not knowing exactly how to express herself. But
+John had his answer ready.
+
+"Oh, I wrote ever so many," he said, "and I have got them all at
+Cambridge. But that is the only one I quite remember. I wrote them just
+after the day when I waked up Muggins--the only time I had seen you till
+now. I think I could--"
+
+"How funny it seems," said Mrs. Goddard, "without knowing a person, to
+write verses to them! How did you manage to do it?"
+
+"I was going to say that I think--I am quite sure--I could write much
+better things to you now."
+
+"Oh, that is impossible--quite absurd, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard,
+laughing more gaily than usual.
+
+"Why?" asked John, somewhat emboldened by his success. "I do not see why,
+if one has an ideal, you know, one should not understand it much better
+when one comes near to it."
+
+"Yes--but--how can I possibly be your ideal?" She felt herself so much
+older than John that she thought it was out of the question to be
+annoyed; so she treated him in a matter of fact way, and was really
+amused at his talk.
+
+"I don't see why not," answered John stoutly. "You might be any man's
+ideal."
+
+"Oh, really--" ejaculated Mrs. Goddard, somewhat startled at the force of
+the sweeping compliment. To be told point-blank, even by an enthusiastic
+youth of one and twenty, that one is the ideal woman, must be either very
+pleasant or very startling.
+
+"Excuse me," she said quickly, before he could answer her, "you know of
+course I am very ignorant--yes I am--but will you please tell me what is
+an 'ideal'?"
+
+"Why--yes," said John, "it is very easy. Ideal comes from idea. Plato
+meant, by the idea, the perfect model--well, do you see?"
+
+"Not exactly," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"It is very simple. When I, when anybody, says you are the ideal woman,
+it is meant that you are the perfect model, the archetype of a woman."
+
+"Yes--but that is absurd," said his companion rather coldly.
+
+"I am sorry that it should seem absurd," said John in a persuasive tone;
+"it seems very natural to me. A man thinks for a long time about
+everything that most attracts him and then, on a sudden, he sees it all
+before him, quite real and alive, and then he says he has realised his
+ideal. But you liked the verses, Mrs. Goddard?" he added quickly, hoping
+to bring back the smile that had vanished from her face. He had a strong
+impression that he had been a little too familiar. Probably Mrs. Goddard
+thought so too.
+
+"Oh yes, I think they are very nice," she answered. But the smile did not
+come back. She was not displeased, but she was not pleased either; she
+was wondering how far this boy would go if she would let him. John,
+however, felt unpleasantly doubtful about what he had done.
+
+"I hope you are not displeased," he said.
+
+"Oh, not in the least," said she. "Shall we go to the park and skate?"
+
+"I am not sure that I will skate to-day," said John, foolishly. Mrs.
+Goddard looked at him in unfeigned surprise.
+
+"Why not? I thought it was for that--"
+
+"Oh, of course," said John quickly. "Only it is not very amusing to skate
+when Mr. Juxon is pushing you about in a chair."
+
+"Really--why should not he push me about, if I like it?"
+
+"If you like it--that is different," answered John impatiently.
+
+Mrs. Goddard began to think that John was very like a spoiled child, and
+she resented his evident wish to monopolise her society. She left the
+room to get ready for the walk, vaguely wishing that he had not come.
+
+"I have made a fool of myself again," said John to himself, when he was
+left alone; and he suddenly wished he could get out of the house without
+seeing her again. But before he had done wishing, she returned.
+
+"Where is Miss Nellie?" he asked gloomily, as they walked down the path.
+"I hope she is coming too."
+
+"She went up to the pond with Mr. Juxon, just before you came."
+
+"Do you let her go about like that, without you?" asked John severely.
+
+"Why not? Really, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, glancing up at his face,
+"either you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a
+good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--"
+
+She was naturally a little timid, but John's youth and what she
+considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to
+protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous.
+
+"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are
+quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest
+reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal
+antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me."
+
+"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows
+nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They
+were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind
+that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch.
+
+"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he
+said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom.
+
+"Nor I," said Mrs. Goddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back
+for her to pass. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there
+was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it
+for themselves. Mrs. Goddard was so much amused at John's absence of mind
+that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was
+attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that
+had darkened the horizon of his romance had passed quickly away, and once
+more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life.
+If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his
+imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. Goddard's chair upon the
+ice, he mentally ejaculated "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the
+previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park
+was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. Goddard did not seem to be
+in a hurry.
+
+"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently.
+
+"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the
+year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will
+very soon be alive again."
+
+"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of
+it."
+
+"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not
+you?"
+
+"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently.
+Mrs. Goddard could not resist the temptation of teazing him a little.
+They had grown very intimate in forty-eight hours; it had taken six
+months for Mr. Juxon to reach the point John had won in two days.
+
+"Are they?" she asked quietly. "Is that the reason you selected me for
+the 'idea' of your ode, which you explained to me?"
+
+"You?" said John in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Why, you are not any
+older than I am!"
+
+"Do you think so?" she inquired with a demure smile. "I am very much
+older than you think."
+
+"You must be--I mean, you know, you must be older than you look."
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Goddard, still smiling, and just resting the tips
+of her fingers upon his arm as she stepped across a slippery place in the
+frozen road. "Yes, I am a great deal older than you."
+
+John would have liked very much to ask her age, but even to his youthful
+and unsophisticated mind such a question seemed almost too personal. He
+did not really believe that she was more than five years older than he,
+and that seemed to be no difference at all.
+
+"I don't know," he said. "I am nearly one and twenty."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Goddard, who had heard every detail concerning
+John from Mr. Ambrose, again and again. "Just think," she added with a
+laugh, "only one and twenty! Why when I was one and twenty I was--" she
+stopped short.
+
+"What were you doing then?" asked John, trying not to seem too curious.
+
+"I was living in London," she said quietly. She half enjoyed his
+disappointment.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I daresay. But what--well, I suppose I ought not to ask
+any questions."
+
+"Certainly not," said she. "It is very rude to ask a lady questions about
+her age."
+
+"I do not mean to be rude again," said John, pretending to laugh. "Have
+you always been fond of skating?" he asked, fixing his eye upon a distant
+tree, and trying to look unconscious.
+
+"No--I only learned since I came here. Besides, I skate very badly."
+
+"Did Mr. Juxon teach you?" asked John, still gazing into the distance.
+From not looking at the path he slipped on a frozen puddle and nearly
+fell. Whereat, as usual, when he did anything awkward, he blushed to the
+brim of his hat.
+
+"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. "You will fall if you don't look
+where you are going. No; Mr. Juxon was not here last year. He only came
+here in the summer."
+
+"It seems to me that he has always been here," said John, trying to
+recover his equanimity. "Then I suppose Mr. Ambrose taught you to skate?"
+
+"Exactly--Mr. Ambrose taught me. He skates very well."
+
+"So will you, with a little more practice," answered her companion in a
+rather patronising tone. He intended perhaps to convey the idea that Mrs.
+Goddard would improve in the exercise if she would actually skate, and
+with him, instead of submitting to be pushed about in a chair by Mr.
+Juxon.
+
+"Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard indifferently. "We shall soon be
+there, now. I can hear them on the ice."
+
+"Too soon," said John with regret.
+
+"I thought you liked skating so much."
+
+"I like walking with you much better," he replied, and he glanced at her
+face to see if his speech produced any sign of sympathy.
+
+"You have walked with me; now you can skate with Nellie," suggested Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"You talk as though I were a child," said John, suddenly losing his
+temper in a very unaccountable way.
+
+"Because I said you might skate with Nellie? Really, I don't see why. Mr.
+Juxon is not a child, and he has been skating with her all the morning."
+
+"That is different," retorted John growing very red.
+
+"Yes--Nellie is much nearer to your age than to Mr. Juxon's," answered
+Mrs. Goddard, with a calmness which made John desperate.
+
+"Really, Mrs. Goddard," he said stiffly, "I cannot see what that has to
+do with it."
+
+"'The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the lady so much older
+than myself has charged--' How does the quotation end, Mr. Short?"
+
+"'Has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither
+attempt to palliate nor deny,'" said John savagely. "Quite so, Mrs.
+Goddard. I shall not attempt to palliate it, nor will I venture to deny
+it."
+
+"Then why in the world are you so angry with me?" she asked, suddenly
+turning her violet eyes upon him. "I was only laughing, you know."
+
+"Only laughing!" repeated John. "It is more pleasant to laugh than to be
+laughed at."
+
+"Yes--would not you allow me the pleasure then, just for once?"
+
+"Certainly, if you desire it. You are so extremely merry--"
+
+"Come, Mr. Short, we must not seem to have been quarrelling when we reach
+the pond. It would be too ridiculous."
+
+"Everything seems to strike you in a humorous light to-day," answered
+John, beginning to be pacified by her tone.
+
+"Do you know, you are much more interesting when you are angry," said
+Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"And you only made me angry in order to see whether I was interesting?"
+
+"Perhaps--but then, I could not help it in the least."
+
+"I trust you are thoroughly satisfied upon the point, Mrs. Goddard? If
+there is anything more that I can do to facilitate your researches in
+psychology--"
+
+"You would help me? Even to the extent of being angry again?" She smiled
+so pleasantly and frankly that John's wrath vanished.
+
+"It is impossible to be angry with you. I am very sorry if I seemed to
+be," he answered. "A man who has the good fortune to be thrown into your
+society is a fool to waste his time in being disagreeable."
+
+"I agree with the conclusion, at all events--that is, it is much better
+to be agreeable. Is it not? Let us be friends."
+
+"Oh, by all means," said John.
+
+They walked on for some minutes in silence. John reflected that he had
+witnessed a phase of Mrs. Goddard's character of which he had been very
+far from suspecting the existence. He had not hitherto imagined her to be
+a woman of quick temper or sharp speech. His idea of her was formed
+chiefly upon her appearance. Her sad face, with its pathetic expression,
+suggested a melancholy humour delighting in subdued and tranquil
+thoughts, inclined naturally to the romantic view, or to what in the eyes
+of youths of twenty appears to be the romantic view of life. He had
+suddenly found her answering him with a sharpness which, while it roused
+his wits, startled his sensibilities. But he was flattered as well. His
+instinct and his observation of Mrs. Goddard when in the society of
+others led him to believe that with Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, or even with
+Mr. Juxon, she was not in the habit of talking as she talked with him. He
+was therefore inwardly pleased, so soon as his passing annoyance had
+subsided, to feel that she made a difference between him and others.
+
+It was quite true that she made a distinction, though she did so almost
+unconsciously. It was perfectly natural, too. She was young in heart, in
+spite of her thirty years and her troubles; she had an elastic
+temperament; to a physiognomist her face would have shown a delicate
+sensitiveness to impressions rather than any inborn tendency to sadness.
+In spite of everything she was still young, and for two years and a half
+she had been in the society of persons much older than herself, persons
+she respected and regarded as friends, but persons in whom her youth
+found no sympathy. It was natural, therefore, that when time to some
+extent had healed the wound she had suffered and she suddenly found
+herself in the society of a young and enthusiastic man, something of the
+enforced soberness of her manner should unbend, showing her character in
+a new light. She herself enjoyed the change, hardly knowing why; she
+enjoyed a little passage of arms with John, and it amused her more than
+she could have expected to be young again, to annoy him, to break the
+peace and heal it again in five minutes. But what happened entirely
+failed to amuse the squire, who did not regard such diversions as
+harmless; and moreover she was far from expecting the effect which her
+treatment of John Short produced upon his scholarly but enthusiastic
+temper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The squire had remarked that John Short seemed to have a peculiar temper,
+and Mrs. Goddard had observed the same thing. What has gone before
+sufficiently explains the change in John's manner, and the difference in
+his behaviour was plainly apparent even to Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose. The
+vicar indeed was wise enough to see that John was very much attracted by
+Mrs. Goddard, but he was also wise enough to say nothing about it. His
+wife, however, who had witnessed no love-making for nearly thirty years,
+except the courtship of the young physician who had married her daughter,
+attributed John's demeanour to no such disturbing cause. He was
+overworked, she said; he was therefore irritable; he had of course never
+taken that excellent homoeopathic remedy, highly diluted aconite, since
+he had left the vicarage; the consequence was that he was subject to
+nervous headache--she only hoped he would not be taken ill on the eve of
+the examination for honours. She hoped, too, that he would prolong his
+holiday to the very last moment, for the country air and the rest he
+enjoyed were sure to do him so much good. With regard, to the extension
+of John's visit, the vicar thought differently, although he held his
+peace. There were many reasons why John should not become attached to
+Mrs. Goddard both for her sake and his own, and if he staid long, the
+vicar felt quite sure that he would fall in love with her. She was
+dangerously pretty, she was much older than John--which in the case of
+very young men constitutes an additional probability--she evidently took
+an innocent pleasure in his society, and altogether such a complication
+as was likely to ensue was highly undesirable. Therefore, when Mrs.
+Ambrose pressed John to stay longer than he had intended, the vicar not
+only gave him no encouragement, but spoke gravely of the near approach of
+the contest for honours, of the necessity of concentrating every force
+for the coming struggle, and expressed at the same time the firm
+conviction that, if John did his best, he ought to be the senior classic
+in the year.
+
+Even Mrs. Goddard urged him to go. Of course he asked her advice. He
+would not have lost that opportunity of making her speak of himself, nor
+of gauging the exact extent of the interest he hoped she felt in him.
+
+It was two or three days after the long conversation he had enjoyed with
+her. In that time they had met often and John's admiration for her,
+strengthened by his own romantic desire to be really in love, had begun
+to assume proportions which startled Mrs. Goddard and annoyed Mr. Juxon.
+The latter felt that the boy was in his way; whenever he wanted to see
+Mrs. Goddard, John was at her side, talking eagerly and contesting his
+position against the squire with a fierceness which in an older and wiser
+man would have been in the worst possible taste. Even as it was, Mr.
+Juxon looked considerably annoyed as he stood by, smoothing his smooth
+hair from time to time with his large white hand and feeling that even at
+his age, and with his experience, a man might sometimes cut a poor
+figure.
+
+On the particular occasion when the relations between John and the squire
+became an object of comment to Mrs. Ambrose, the whole party were
+assembled at Mrs. Goddard's cottage. She had invited everybody to tea, a
+meal which in her little household represented a compromise between her
+appetite and Nellie's. She had felt that in the small festivities of the
+Billingsfield Christmas season she was called upon to do her share with
+the rest and, being a simple woman, she took her part simply, and did not
+dignify the entertainment of her four friends by calling it a dinner. The
+occasion was none the less hospitable, for she gave both time and thought
+to her preparations. Especially she had considered the question of
+precedence; it was doubtful, she thought, whether the squire or the vicar
+should sit upon her right hand. The squire, as being lord of the manor,
+represented the powers temporal, the vicar on the other hand represented
+the church, which on ordinary occasions takes precedence of the lay
+faculty. She had at last privately consulted Mr. Juxon, in whom she had
+the greatest confidence, asking him frankly which she should do, and Mr.
+Juxon had unhesitatingly yielded the post of honour to the vicar, adding
+to enforce his opinion the very plausible argument that if he, the
+squire, took Mrs. Goddard in to tea, the vicar would have to give his arm
+either to little Nellie or to his own wife. Mrs. Goddard was convinced
+and the affair was a complete success.
+
+John felt that he could not complain of his position, but as he was
+separated from the object of his admiration during the whole meal, he
+resolved to indemnify himself for his sufferings by monopolising her
+conversation during the rest of the evening. The squire on the other
+hand, who had been obliged to talk to Mrs. Ambrose during most of the
+time while they were at table, and who, moreover, was beginning to feel
+that he had seen almost enough of John Short, determined to give the
+young man a lesson in the art of interesting women in general and Mrs.
+Goddard in particular. She, indeed, would not have been a woman at all
+had she not understood the two men and their intentions. After tea the
+party congregated round the fire in the little drawing-room, standing in
+a circle, of which their hostess formed the centre. Mr. Juxon and John,
+anticipating that Mrs. Goddard must ultimately sit upon one side or other
+of the fireplace had at first chosen opposite sides, each hoping that she
+would take the chair nearest to himself. But Mrs. Goddard remained
+standing an unreasonably long time, for the very reason that she did not
+choose to sit beside either of them. Seeing this the squire, who had
+perhaps a greater experience than his adversary in this kind of strategic
+warfare, left his place and put himself on the same side as John. He
+argued that Mrs. Goddard would probably then choose the opposite side,
+whereas John who was younger would think she would come towards the two
+where they stood; John would consequently lose time, Mr. Juxon would
+cross again and install himself by her side while his enemy was
+hesitating.
+
+While these moves and counter-moves were proceeding, the conversation was
+general. The vicar was for the hundredth time admiring the Andrea del
+Sarto over the chimney-piece and his wife was explaining her general
+objections to the representation of sacred subjects upon canvas, while
+Mrs. Goddard answered each in turn and endeavoured to disagree with
+neither. What the squire had foreseen when he made his last move,
+however, actually took place at last. Mrs. Goddard established herself
+upon the side opposite the two men. Mr. Juxon crossed rapidly to where
+she was seated, and Mrs. Ambrose, who had turned with the intention of
+speaking to the squire, found herself confronted by John. He saw that he
+had been worsted by his foe and immediately lost his temper; but being
+brought face to face with Mrs. Ambrose was obliged to control it as he
+might. That excellent lady beamed upon him with a maternal smile of the
+kind which is peculiarly irritating to young men. He struggled to get
+away however, glancing over Mrs. Ambrose's shoulder at the squire and
+longing to be "at him" as he would have expressed it. But the squire was
+not to be got at so easily, for the vicar's wife was of a fine presence
+and covered much ground. John involuntarily thought of the dyke before
+Troy, of Hector and his heroes attempting to storm it and of the Ajaces
+and Sarpedon defending it and glaring down from above. He could
+appreciate Hector's feelings--Mrs. Ambrose was very like the dyke.
+
+The squire smiled serenely and smoothed his hair as he talked to Mrs.
+Goddard and she herself looked by no means discontented, thereby adding,
+as it were, an insult to the injury done to John.
+
+"I shall always envy you the cottage," the squire was saying. "I have not
+a single room in the Hall that is half so cheery in the evening."
+
+"I shall never forget my terror when we first met," answered Mrs.
+Goddard, "do you remember? You frightened me by saying you would like to
+live here. I thought you meant it."
+
+"You must have thought I was the most unmannerly of barbarians."
+
+"Instead of being the best of landlords," added Mrs. Goddard with a
+grateful smile.
+
+"I hardly know whether I am that," said Mr. Juxon, settling himself in
+his chair. "But I believe I am by nature an exceedingly comfortable man,
+and I never fail to consult the interests of my comfort."
+
+"And of mine. Think of all you have done to improve this place. I can
+never thank you enough. I suppose one always feels particularly grateful
+at Christmas time--does not one?"
+
+"One has more to be grateful for, it seems to me--in our climate, too.
+People in southern countries never really know what comfort means,
+because nature never makes them thoroughly uncomfortable. Only a man who
+is freezing can appreciate a good fire."
+
+"I suppose you have been a good deal in such places," suggested Mrs.
+Goddard, vaguely.
+
+"Oh yes--everywhere," answered the squire with equal indefiniteness. "By
+the bye, talking of travelling, when is our young friend going away?"
+There was not a shade of ill-humour in the question.
+
+"The day after New Year's--I believe."
+
+"He has had a very pleasant visit."
+
+"Yes," replied Mrs. Goddard, "I hope it will do him a great deal of
+good."
+
+"Why? Was he ill? Ah--I remember, they said he had worked too hard. It is
+a great mistake to work too hard, especially when one is very young."
+
+"He is very young, is not he?" remarked Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile,
+remembering the many conversations she had had with him.
+
+"Very. Did it ever strike you that--well, that he was losing his head a
+little?"
+
+"No," answered his companion innocently. "What about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. Only he has rather a peculiar temper. He is perpetually
+getting very angry with no ostensible reason--and then he glares at one
+like an angry cat."
+
+"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, "he might hear you."
+
+"Do him good," said the squire cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, no! It would hurt his feelings dreadfully. How can you be so
+unkind?"
+
+"He is a very good boy, you know. Really, I believe he is. Only he is
+inclined to be rather too unreasonable; I should think he might be
+satisfied."
+
+"Satisfied with what?" inquired Mrs. Goddard, who did not wish to
+understand.
+
+"With the way you have treated him," returned the squire bluntly. "You
+have been wonderfully good to him."
+
+"Have I?" The faint colour rose to her cheek. "I don't know--poor fellow!
+I daresay his life at Cambridge is very dull."
+
+"Yes. Entirely devoid of that species of amusement which he has enjoyed
+so abundantly in Billingsfield. It is not every undergraduate who has a
+chance to talk to you for a week at a time."
+
+Mr. Juxon made the remark very calmly, without seeming to be in the least
+annoyed. He was much too wise a man to appear to be displeased at Mrs.
+Goddard's treatment of John. Moreover, he felt that on the present
+occasion, at least, John had been summarily worsted; it was his turn to
+be magnanimous.
+
+"If you are going to make compliments, I will go away," said Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"I? I never made a compliment in my life," replied the squire
+complacently. "Do you think it is a compliment to tell you that Mr. Short
+probably enjoys your conversation much more than the study of Greek
+roots?"
+
+"Well--not exactly--"
+
+"Besides, in general," continued the squire, "compliments are mere waste
+of breath. If a woman has any vanity she knows her own good points much
+better than any man who attempts to explain them to her; and if she has
+no vanity, no amount of explanation of her merits will make her see them
+in a proper light."
+
+"That is very true," answered Mrs. Goddard, thoughtfully. "It never
+struck me before. I wonder whether that is the reason women always like
+men who never make any compliments at all?"
+
+The squire's face assumed an amusing expression of inquiry and surprise.
+
+"Is that personal?" he asked.
+
+"Oh--of course not," answered Mrs. Goddard in some confusion. She blushed
+and turning towards the fire took up the poker and pretended to stir the
+coals. Women always delight in knocking a good fire to pieces, out of
+pure absence of mind. John Short saw the movement and, escaping suddenly
+from the maternal conversation of Mrs. Ambrose, threw himself upon his
+knee on the hearth-rug and tried to take the poker from his hostess's
+hand.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, don't! Let me do it--please!" he exclaimed.
+
+"But I can do it very well myself," said she protesting and not relaxing
+her hold upon the poker. But John was obstinate in his determination to
+save her trouble, and rudely tried to get the instrument away.
+
+"Please don't--you hurt me," said Mrs. Goddard petulantly.
+
+"Oh--I beg your pardon--I wanted to help you," said John leaving his
+hold. "I did not really hurt you--did I?" he asked, almost tenderly.
+
+"Dreadfully," replied Mrs. Goddard, half angry and half amused at his
+impatience and subsequent contrition. The squire sat complacently in his
+chair, watching the little scene. John hated him more than ever, and grew
+very red. Mrs. Goddard saw the boy's embarrassment and presently
+relented.
+
+"I daresay you will do it better than I," she said, handing him the
+poker, which John seized with alacrity. "That big coal--there," she
+added, pointing to a smouldering block in the corner of the grate.
+
+"I did not mean to be rude," said John. "I only wanted to help you." He
+knelt by her side poking the fire industriously. "I only wanted to get a
+chance to talk to you," he added, in a low voice, barely audible to Mrs.
+Goddard as she leaned forward.
+
+"I am afraid you cannot do that just now," she said, not unkindly, but
+with the least shade of severity in her tone. "You will get dreadfully
+hot if you stay there, so near the fire."
+
+"I don't mind the heat in the least," said John heroically. Nevertheless
+as she did not give him any further encouragement he was presently
+obliged to retire, greatly discomfited. He could not spend the evening on
+his knees with the poker in his hand.
+
+"Bad failure," remarked the squire in an undertone as soon as John had
+rejoined Mrs. Ambrose, who had not quite finished her lecture on
+homoeopathy.
+
+Mrs. Goddard leaned back in her chair and looked at Mr. Juxon rather
+coolly. She did not want him to laugh at John, though she was not willing
+to encourage John herself.
+
+"You should not be unkind," she said. "He is such a nice boy--why should
+you wish him to be uncomfortable?"
+
+"Oh, I don't in the least. I could not help being amused a little. I am
+sure I don't want to be unkind."
+
+Indeed the squire had not shown himself to be so, on the whole, and he
+did not refer to the matter again during the evening. He kept his place
+for some time by Mrs. Goddard's side and then, judging that he had
+sufficiently asserted his superiority, rose and talked to Mrs. Ambrose.
+But John, being now in a thoroughly bad humour, could not take his vacant
+seat with a good grace. He stood aloof and took up a book that lay upon
+the table and avoided looking at Mrs. Goddard. By and by, when the party
+broke up, he said good-night in such a particularly cold and formal tone
+of voice that she stared at him in surprise. But he took no notice of her
+look and went away after the Ambroses, in that state of mind which boys
+call a huff.
+
+But on the following day John repented of his behaviour. All day long he
+wandered about the garden of the vicarage, excusing himself from joining
+the daily skating which formed the staple of amusement during the
+Christmas week, by saying that he had an idea for a copy of verses and
+must needs work it out. But he inwardly hoped that Mrs. Goddard would
+come to the vicarage late in the afternoon, without the inevitable Mr.
+Juxon, and that he might then get a chance of talking to her. He was not
+quite sure what he should say. He would find words on the spur of the
+moment; it would at all events be much easier than to meet her on the ice
+at the Hall with all the rest of them and to see Mr. Juxon pushing her
+about in that detestable chair, with the unruffled air of superiority
+which John so hated to see upon his face. The vicar suspected more than
+ever that there was something wrong; he had seen some of the by-play on
+the previous evening, and had noticed John's ill-concealed disappointment
+at being unable to dislodge the sturdy squire from his seat. But Mrs.
+Ambrose seemed to be very obtuse, and the vicar would have been the last
+to have spoken of his suspicions, even to the wife of his bosom. It was
+his duty to induce John to go back to his work at the end of the week; it
+was not his duty to put imputations upon him which Mrs. Ambrose would
+naturally exaggerate and which would drive her excellent heart into a
+terrible state of nervous anxiety.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard did not come back to the vicarage on that day, and John
+went to dinner with a sad heart. It did not seem like a day at all if he
+had not seen her and talked with her. He had now no doubt whatever that
+he was seriously in love, and he set himself to consider his position.
+The more he considered it, the more irreconcilable it seemed to be with
+the passion which beset him. A child could see that for several years, at
+least, he would not be in a position to marry. With Mr. Juxon at hand
+from year's end to year's end, the owner of the Hall, of the
+Billingsfield property and according to all appearances of other
+resources besides,--with such a man constantly devoted to her, could Mrs.
+Goddard be expected to wait for poor John three years, even two years,
+from the time of the examination for the classical Tripos? Nothing was
+more improbable, he was forced to admit. And yet, the idea of life if he
+did not marry Mrs. Goddard was dismal beyond all expression; he would
+probably not survive it. He did not know what he should do. He shrank
+from the thought of declaring his love to her at once. He remembered with
+pain that she had a terrible way of laughing at him when he grew
+confidential or too complimentary, and he dreaded lest at the supreme
+moment of his life he should appear ridiculous in her eyes--he, a mere
+undergraduate. If he came out at the head of the Tripos it would be
+different; and yet that seemed so long to wait, especially while Mr.
+Juxon lived at the Hall and Mrs. Goddard lived at the park gates.
+Suddenly a thought struck him which filled him with delight; it was just
+possible that Mr. Juxon had no intention of marrying Mrs. Goddard. If he
+had any such views he would probably have declared them before now, for
+he had met her every day during more than half a year. John longed to ask
+some one the question. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose, who might be supposed to know
+everything connected with Mrs. Goddard, could tell him. He felt very
+nervous at the idea of speaking to the vicar on the subject, and yet it
+seemed to him that no one else could set his mind at rest. If he were
+quite certain that Mr. Juxon had no intention of offering himself to the
+charming tenant of the cottage, he might return to his work with some
+sense of security in the future. Otherwise he saw only the desperate
+alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved
+her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of
+hearing any day that she had married the squire. To be laughed at would
+be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle,
+would be awful. No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth;
+it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done. Having at
+last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of
+dinner, his spirits rose a little. He took another glass of the vicar's
+mild ale and felt that he could face his fate.
+
+"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr. Ambrose?" he said as they
+rose from table.
+
+"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the
+drawing-room, he returned to find John. There was a low, smouldering fire
+in the study grate, and John had lit a solitary candle. The room looked
+very dark and dismal and John was seated in one of the black leather
+chairs, waiting.
+
+"Anything about those verses you were speaking of to-day?" asked the
+vicar cheerfully, in anticipation of a pleasant classical chat.
+
+"No," said John, gloomily. "The fact is--" he cleared his throat, "the
+fact is, I want to ask you rather a delicate question, sir."
+
+The vicar's heavy eyebrows contracted; the lines of his face all turned
+downwards, and his long, clean-shaved upper lip closed sharply upon its
+fellow, like a steel trap. He turned his grey eyes upon John's averted
+face with a searching look.
+
+"Have you got into any trouble at Trinity, John?" he asked severely.
+
+"Oh no--no indeed," said John. Nothing was further from his thoughts than
+his college at that moment. "I want to ask you a question, which no one
+else can answer. Is--do you think that--that Mr. Juxon has any idea of
+marrying Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+The vicar started in astonishment and laid both hands upon the arms of
+his chair.
+
+"What--in the world--put that--into your head?" he asked very slowly,
+emphasising every word of his question. John was prepared to see his old
+tutor astonished but was rather taken aback at the vicar's tone.
+
+"Do you think it is likely, sir?" he insisted.
+
+"Certainly not," answered the vicar, still eyeing him suspiciously.
+"Certainly not. I have positive reasons to prove the contrary. But, my
+dear John, why, in the name of all that is sensible, do you ask me such a
+question? You don't seriously think of proposing--"
+
+"I don't see why I should not," said John doggedly, seeing that he was
+found out.
+
+"You don't see why you should not? Why the thing is perfectly absurd, not
+to say utterly impossible! John, you are certainly mad."
+
+"I don't see why," repeated John. "I am a grown man. I have good
+prospects--"
+
+"Good prospects!" ejaculated the vicar in horror. "Good prospects! Why,
+you are only an undergraduate at Cambridge."
+
+"I may be senior classic in a few months," objected John. "That is not
+such a bad prospect, it seems to me."
+
+"It means that you may get a fellowship, probably will--in the course of
+a few years. But you lose it if you marry. Besides--do you know that Mrs.
+Goddard is ten years older than you, and more?"
+
+"Impossible," said John in a tone of conviction.
+
+"I know that she is. She will be two and thirty on her next birthday, and
+you are not yet one and twenty."
+
+"I shall be next month," argued John, who was somewhat taken aback,
+however, by the alarming news of Mrs. Goddard's age. "Besides, I can go
+into the church, before I get a fellowship--"
+
+"No, you can't," said the vicar energetically. "You won't be able to
+manage it. If you do, you will have to put up with a poor living."
+
+"That would not matter. Mrs. Goddard has something--"
+
+"An honourable prospect!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, growing more and more
+excited. "To marry a woman ten years older than yourself because she has
+a little money of her own! You! I would not have thought it of you,
+John--indeed I would not!"
+
+Indeed no one was more surprised than John Short himself, when he found
+himself arguing the possibilities of his marriage with his old tutor. But
+he was an obstinate young fellow enough and was not inclined to give up
+the fight easily.
+
+"Really," he objected, "I cannot see anything so very terrible in the
+idea. I shall certainly make my way in the world. You know that it is not
+for the sake of her money. Many men have married women ten years older
+than themselves, and not half so beautiful and charming, I am sure."
+
+"I don't believe it," said the vicar, "and if they have, why it has been
+very different, that is all. Besides, you have not known Mrs. Goddard a
+week--positively not more than five days--why, it is madness! Do you mean
+to tell me that at the end of five days you believe you are seriously
+attached to a lady you never saw in your life before?"
+
+"I saw her once," said John. "That day when I waked Muggins--"
+
+"Once! Nearly three years ago! I have no patience with you, John! That a
+young fellow of your capabilities should give way to such a boyish fancy!
+It is absolutely amazing! I thought you were growing to like her society
+very much, but I did not believe it would, come to this!"
+
+"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said John stoutly.
+
+"It is something to be afraid of," answered the vicar.
+
+"Oh, do not be alarmed," retorted John. "I will do nothing rash. You have
+set my mind at rest in assuring me that she will not marry Mr. Juxon. I
+shall not think of offering myself to Mrs. Goddard until after the
+Tripos."
+
+"Offering myself"--how deliciously important the expression sounded to
+John's own ears! It conveyed such a delightful sense of the possibilities
+of life when at last he should feel that he was in a position to offer
+himself to any woman, especially to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"I have a great mind not to ask you to come down, even if you do turn out
+senior classic," said the vicar, still fuming with excitement. "But if
+you put off your rash action until then, you will probably have changed
+your mind."
+
+"I will never change my mind," said John confidently. It was evident,
+nevertheless, that if the romance of his life were left to the tender
+mercies of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, it was likely to come to an
+abrupt termination. When the two returned to the society of Mrs. Ambrose,
+the vicar was still very much agitated and John was plunged in a gloomy
+melancholy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+The vicar's suspicions were more than realized and he passed an
+uncomfortable day after his interview with John, in debating what he
+ought to do, whether he ought to do anything at all, or whether he should
+merely hasten his old pupil's departure and leave matters to take care of
+themselves. He was a very conscientious man, and he felt that he was
+responsible for John's conduct towards Mrs. Goddard, seeing that she had
+put herself under his protection, and that John was almost like one of
+his family. His first impulse was to ask counsel of his wife, but he
+rejected the plan, reflecting with great justice that she was very fond
+of John and had at first not been sure of liking Mrs. Goddard; she would
+be capable of thinking that the latter had "led Short on," as she would
+probably say. The vicar did not believe this, and was therefore loath
+that any one else should. He felt that circumstances had made him Mrs.
+Goddard's protector, and he was moreover personally attached to her; he
+would not therefore do or say anything whereby she was likely to
+appear to any one else in an unfavourable light. It was incredible that
+she should have given John any real encouragement. Mr. Ambrose wondered
+whether he ought to warn her of his pupil's madness. But when he thought
+about that, it seemed unnecessary. It was unlikely that John would betray
+himself during his present visit, since the vicar had solemnly assured
+him that there was no possibility of a marriage so far as Mr. Juxon was
+concerned. It was undoubtedly a very uncomfortable situation but there
+was evidently nothing to be done; Mr. Ambrose felt that to speak to Mrs.
+Goddard would be to precipitate matters in a way which could not but
+cause much humiliation to John Short and much annoyance to herself. He
+accordingly held his peace, but his upper lip set itself stiffly and his
+eyes had a combative expression which told his wife that there was
+something the matter.
+
+After breakfast John went out, on pretence of walking in the garden, and
+Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were left alone. The latter, as usual after the
+morning meal, busied herself about the room, searching out those secret
+corners which she suspected Susan of having forgotten to dust. The vicar
+stood looking out of the window. The weather was grey and it seemed
+likely that there would be a thaw which would spoil the skating.
+
+"I think," said Mrs. Ambrose, "that John is far from well."
+
+"What makes you say that?" inquired the vicar, who was thinking of him at
+that very moment.
+
+"Anybody might see it. He has no appetite--he ate nothing at breakfast
+this morning. He looks pale. My dear, that boy will certainly break
+down."
+
+"I don't believe it," answered Mr. Ambrose still looking out of the
+window. His hands were in his pockets, thrusting the skirts of his
+clerical coat to right and left; he slowly raised himself upon his toes
+and let himself down again, repeating the operation as though it helped
+him to think.
+
+"That is the way you spoil all your coats, Augustin," said his wife
+looking at him from behind. "I assure you, my dear, that boy is not well.
+Poor fellow, all alone at college with nobody to look after him--"
+
+"We have all had to go through that. I do not think it hurts him a bit,"
+said the vicar, slowly removing his hands from his pockets in deference
+to his wife's suggestion.
+
+"Then what is it, I would like to know? There is certainly something the
+matter. Now I ask you whether he looks like himself?"
+
+"Perhaps he does look a little tired."
+
+"Tired! There is something on his mind, Augustin. I am positively certain
+there is something on his mind. Why won't you tell me?"
+
+"My dear--" began the vicar, and then stopped short. He was a very
+truthful man, and as he knew very well what was the matter with John he
+was embarrassed to find an answer. "My dear," he repeated, "I do not
+think he is ill."
+
+"Then I am right," retorted Mrs. Ambrose, triumphantly. "It is just as I
+thought, there is something on his mind. Don't deny it, Augustin; there
+is something on his mind."
+
+Mr. Ambrose was silent; he glared fiercely at the window panes.
+
+"Why don't you tell me?" insisted his better half. "I am quite sure you
+know all about it. Augustin, do you know, or do you not?"
+
+Thus directly questioned the vicar turned sharply round, sweeping the
+window with his coat tails.
+
+"My dear," he said, shortly, "I do know. Can you not imagine that it may
+be a matter which John does not care to have mentioned?"
+
+Mrs. Ambrose grew red with annoyance. She had set her heart on finding
+out what had disturbed John, and the vicar had apparently made up his
+mind that she should not succeed. Such occurrences were very rare between
+that happy couple.
+
+"I cannot believe he has done anything wrong," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+"Anything which need be concealed from me--the interest I have always
+taken--"
+
+"He has not done anything wrong," said the vicar impatiently. "I do wish
+you would drop the subject--"
+
+"Then why should it be concealed from me?" objected his wife with
+admirable logic. "If it is anything good he need not hide his light under
+a bushel, I should think."
+
+"There are plenty of things which are neither bad nor good," argued the
+vicar, who felt that if he could draw Mrs. Ambrose into a Socratic
+discussion he was safe.
+
+"That is a distinct prevarication, Augustin," said she severely. "I am
+surprised at you."
+
+"Not at all," retorted the vicar. "What has occurred to John is not owing
+to any fault of his." In his own mind the good man excused himself by
+saying that John could not have helped falling in love with Mrs. Goddard.
+But his wife turned quickly upon him.
+
+"That does not prevent what has occurred to him, as you call it, from
+being good, or more likely bad, to judge from his looks."
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Ambrose, driven to bay, "I entirely decline to
+discuss the point."
+
+"I thought you trusted me, Augustin."
+
+"So I do--certainly--and I always consult you about my own affairs."
+
+"I think I have as much right to know about John as you have," retorted
+his wife, who seemed deeply hurt.
+
+"That is a point then which you ought to settle with John," said the
+vicar. "I cannot betray his confidence, even to you."
+
+"Oh--then he has been making confidences to you?"
+
+"How in the world should I know about his affairs unless he told me?"
+
+"One may see a great many things without being told about them, you
+know," answered Mrs. Ambrose, assuming a prim expression as she examined
+a small spot in the tablecloth. The vicar was walking up and down the
+room. Her speech, which was made quite at random, startled him. She, too,
+might easily have observed John's manner when he was with Mrs. Goddard;
+she might have guessed the secret, and have put her own interpretation on
+John's sudden melancholy.
+
+"What may one see?" asked the vicar quickly.
+
+"I did not say one could see anything," answered his wife. "But from your
+manner I infer that there really is something to see. Wait a minute--what
+can it be?"
+
+"Nothing--my dear, nothing," said the vicar desperately.
+
+"Oh, Augustin, I know you so well," said the implacable Mrs. Ambrose. "I
+am quite sure now, that it is something I have seen. Deny it, my dear."
+
+The vicar was silent and bit his long upper lip as he marched up and down
+the room.
+
+"Of course--you cannot deny it," she continued. "It is perfectly clear.
+The very first day he arrived--when you came down from the Hall, in the
+evening--Augustin, I have got it! It is Mrs. Goddard--now don't tell me
+it is not. I am quite sure it is Mrs. Goddard. How stupid of me! Is it
+not Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"If you are so positive," said the vicar, resorting to a form of defence
+generally learned in the nursery, "why do you ask me?"
+
+"I insist upon knowing, Augustin, is it, or is it not, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"My dear, I positively refuse to answer any more questions," said the
+vicar with tardy firmness.
+
+"Oh, it is no matter," retorted Mrs. Ambrose in complete triumph, "if it
+were not Mrs. Goddard of course you would say so at once."
+
+A form of argument so unanswerable, that the vicar hastily left the room
+feeling that he had basely betrayed John's confidence, and muttering
+something about intolerable curiosity. Mrs. Ambrose had vanquished her
+husband, as she usually did on those rare occasions when anything
+approaching to a dispute arose between them. Having come to the
+conclusion that "it" was Mrs. Goddard, the remainder of the secret needed
+no discovery. It was plain that John must be in love with the tenant of
+the cottage, and it seemed likely that it would devolve upon Mrs. Ambrose
+to clear up the matter. She was very fond of John and her first
+impression was that Mrs. Goddard, whom she now again suspected of having
+foreign blood, had "led him on"--an impression which the vicar had
+anticipated when he rashly resolved not to tell his wife John's secret.
+She knew very well that the vicar must have told John his mind in regard
+to such an attachment, and she easily concluded that he must have done so
+on the previous evening when John called him into the study. But she had
+just won a victory over her husband, and she consequently felt that he
+was weak, probably too weak to save the situation, and it was borne in
+upon her that she ought to do something immediately. Unhappily she did
+not see quite clearly what was to be done. She might go straight to Mrs.
+Goddard and accuse her of having engaged John's affections; but the more
+she thought of that, the more diffident she grew in regard to the result
+of such an interview. Curiosity had led her to a certain point, but
+caution prevented her from going any further. Mrs. Ambrose was very
+cautious. The habit of living in a small place, feeling that all her
+actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them,
+had made her even more careful than she was by nature. It would be very
+unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. Goddard unless she were very sure
+of the result. Mrs. Goddard was hardly a friend. In Mrs. Ambrose's
+opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost
+daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not constitute
+friendship. Nevertheless the vicar's wife would have been ashamed to own
+that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of
+Mrs. Goddard's real character; especially as the latter had requested the
+vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at
+Billingsfield. Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained
+over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally
+the events of the last few days. She remembered distinctly that John had
+perpetually pursued Mrs. Goddard, and that although the latter seemed to
+find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose's knowledge
+given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and
+signals, which in the good lady's mind were classified under the term
+"flirting." Mrs. Ambrose's ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated;
+thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had
+not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just.
+Mrs. Goddard had not flirted with John. It is worthy of notice that in
+proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an
+explanation from Mrs. Goddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually
+arrived at the conclusion that it was John's fault. Half an hour ago, in
+the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be
+John's fault. She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity.
+Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be passed over with
+indifference. It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very
+soon.
+
+John thought so too. Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar
+knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him
+to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of
+marrying Mrs. Goddard. He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once
+and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over. He would then come
+back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the
+prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs.
+Goddard's feet. But of course he must have one farewell interview. Oh,
+those farewell interviews! Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is
+taken without leave!
+
+Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving
+the vicarage on the morrow. Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an
+equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly
+pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for
+his health. She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she
+was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be
+helped. The vicar was moved by his wife's apparent indifference. John, he
+said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but
+at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of
+fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the
+consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress. John
+saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of
+going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night's
+interview. But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt
+to explain to himself what was happening.
+
+But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his
+intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he
+meant to see Mrs. Goddard before he left he must go to her at once. He
+therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in
+the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road.
+
+He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. Goddard. He meant, of
+course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving
+suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to
+accomplish it. He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into
+his head spontaneously. His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he
+blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage. Almost before he knew where
+he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the
+presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved. But to his great
+annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her. Mrs. Goddard sat near
+the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep
+sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and
+hands as she read. Mrs. Goddard extended her hand, without rising.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Short?" she said. The young man stood hat in hand in
+the middle of the room, feeling very nervous. It was strange that he
+should experience any embarrassment now, considering how many hours he
+had spent in her company during the last few days. He blushed and
+stammered.
+
+"How do you do? I, in fact--I have come to say good-bye," he blurted out.
+
+"So soon?" said Mrs. Goddard calmly. "Pray sit down."
+
+"Are you really going away, Mr. Short?" asked Nellie. "We are so sorry to
+lose you." The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been
+reading, and thought it very appropriate. Her mother smiled.
+
+"Yes--as Nellie says--we are sorry to lose you," she said. "I thought you
+were to stay until Monday?"
+
+"So I was--but--very urgent business--not exactly business of course, but
+work--calls me away sooner." Having delivered himself of this masterpiece
+of explanation John looked nervously at Nellie and then at his hat and
+then, with an imploring glance, at Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"But we shall hear of you, Mr. Short--after the examinations, shall we
+not?"
+
+"Oh yes," said John eagerly. "I will come down as soon as the lists are
+out."
+
+"You have my best wishes, you know," said Mrs. Goddard kindly. "I feel
+quite sure that you will really be senior classic."
+
+"Mamma is always saying that--it is quite true," explained Nellie.
+
+John blushed again and looked gratefully at Mrs. Goddard. He wished
+Nellie would go away, but there was not the least chance of that.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "I often say it. We all take a great interest
+in your success here."
+
+"You are very kind," murmured John. "Of course I shall come down at once
+and tell you all about it, if I succeed. I do not really expect to be
+first, of course. I shall be satisfied if I get a place in the first ten.
+But I mean to do my best."
+
+"No one can do more," said Mrs. Goddard, leaning back in her chair and
+looking into the fire. Her face was quiet, but not sad as it sometimes
+was. There was a long silence which John did not know how to break.
+Nellie sat upon a carved chair by the side of the fireplace dangling her
+legs and looking at her toes, turning them alternately in and out. She
+wished John would go for she wanted to get back to her book, but had been
+told it was not good manners to read when there were visitors. John
+looked at Mrs. Goddard's face and was about to speak, and then changed
+his mind and grew red and said nothing. Had she noticed his shyness she
+would have made an effort at conversation, but she was absent-minded
+to-day, and was thinking of something else. Suddenly she started and
+laughed a little.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said. "What were you saying, Mr. Short?" Had
+John been saying anything he would have repeated it, but being thus
+interrogated he grew doubly embarrassed.
+
+"I--I have not much to say--except good-bye," he answered.
+
+"Oh, don't go yet," said Mrs. Goddard. "You are not going this afternoon?
+It is always so unpleasant to say good-bye, is it not?"
+
+"Dreadfully," answered John. "I would rather say anything else in the
+world. No; I am going early to-morrow morning. There is no help for it,"
+he added desperately. "I must go, you know."
+
+"The next time you come, you will be able to stay much longer," said Mrs.
+Goddard in an encouraging way. "You will have no more terms, then."
+
+"No indeed--nothing but to take my degree."
+
+"And what will you do then? You said the other day that you thought
+seriously of going into the church."
+
+"Oh mamma," interrupted Nellie suddenly looking up, "fancy Mr. Short in a
+black gown, preaching like Mr. Ambrose! How perfectly ridiculous he would
+look!"
+
+"Nellie--Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, "do not talk nonsense. It is
+very rude to say Mr. Short would look ridiculous."
+
+"I didn't mean to be rude, mamma," returned Nellie, blushing scarlet and
+pouting her lips, "only it would be very funny, wouldn't it?"
+
+"I daresay it would," said John, relieved by the interruption. "I wish
+you would advise me what to do, Mrs. Goddard," he added in a confidential
+tone.
+
+"I?" she exclaimed, and then laughed. "How should I be able to advise
+you?"
+
+"I am sure you could," said John, insisting. "You have such wonderfully
+good judgment--"
+
+"Have I? I did not know it. But, tell me, if you come out very high are
+you not sure of getting a fellowship?"
+
+"It is likely," answered John indifferently. "But I should have to give
+it up if I married--"
+
+"Surely, Mr. Short," cried Mrs. Goddard, with a laugh that cut him to the
+quick, "you do not think of marrying for many years to come?"
+
+"Oh--I don't know," he said, blushing violently, "why should not I?"
+
+"In the first place, a man should never marry until he is at least five
+and twenty years old," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly.
+
+"Well--I may be as old as that before I get the fellowship."
+
+"Yes, I daresay. But even then, why should you want to resign a handsome
+independence as soon as you have got it? Is there anything else so good
+within your reach?"
+
+"There is the church, of course," said John. "But Miss Nellie seems to
+think that ridiculous--"
+
+"Never mind Nellie," answered Mrs. Goddard. "Seriously, Mr. Short, do you
+approve of entering the church merely as a profession, a means of earning
+money?"
+
+"Well--no--I did not put it in that way. But many people do."
+
+"That does not prove that it is either wise or decent," said Mrs.
+Goddard. "If you felt impelled to take orders from other motives, it
+would be different. As I understand you, you are choosing a profession
+for the sake of becoming independent."
+
+"Certainly," said John.
+
+"Well, then, there is nothing better for you to do than to get a
+fellowship and hold it as long as you can, and during that time you can
+make up your mind." She spoke with conviction, and the plan seemed good.
+"But I cannot imagine," she continued, "why you should ask my advice."
+
+"And not to marry?" inquired John nervously.
+
+"There is plenty of time to think of that when you are thirty--even five
+and thirty is not too late."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed John, "I think that is much too old!"
+
+"Do you call me old?" asked Mrs. Goddard serenely. "I was thirty-one on
+my last birthday."
+
+For the twentieth time, John felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Not
+only had he said an unconscionably stupid thing, but Mrs. Goddard, after
+advising him not to marry for ten years, had almost hinted that she might
+meanwhile be married herself. What else could she mean by the remark? But
+John was hardly a responsible being on that day. His views of life and
+his understanding were equally disturbed.
+
+"No indeed," he protested on hearing her confession of age. "No
+indeed--why, you are the youngest person I ever saw, of course. But with
+men--it is quite different."
+
+"Is it? I always thought women were supposed to grow old faster than men.
+That is the reason why women always marry men so much older than
+themselves."
+
+"Oh--in that case--I have nothing more to say," replied John in very
+indistinct tones. The perspiration was standing upon his forehead; the
+room swam with him and he felt a terrible, prickly sensation all over his
+body.
+
+"Mamma, shan't I open the door? Mr. Short is so very hot," said Nellie
+looking at him in some astonishment. At that moment John felt as though
+he could have eaten little Nellie, long legs, ringlets and all, with
+infinite satisfaction. He rose suddenly to his feet.
+
+"The fact is--it is late--I must really be saying good-bye," he
+stammered.
+
+"Must you?" said Mrs. Goddard, suspecting that something was the matter.
+"Well, I am very sorry to say good-bye. But you will be coming back soon,
+will you not?"
+
+"Yes--I don't know--perhaps I shall not come back at all. Good-bye--Mrs.
+Goddard--good-bye, Miss Nellie."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, looking at him with some
+anxiety. "You are not ill? What is the matter?"
+
+"Oh dear no, nothing," answered John with an unnatural laugh. "No thank
+you--good-bye."
+
+He managed to get out of the door and rushed down to the road. The cold
+air steadied his nerves. He felt better. With a sudden revulsion of
+feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against
+the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general,
+not forgetting poor little Nellie.
+
+"If ever I cross that threshold again--" he muttered with tragic
+emphasis. His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously
+as he strode towards the vicarage. Several little boys in ragged
+smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own
+fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned.
+
+So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the
+following morning. He sent an excuse to Mr. Juxon explaining that the
+urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when
+the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared
+the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some
+of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly
+of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay
+and which had come to such a miserable end.
+
+Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs. Goddard, he was
+surprised to find that his memory failed him. He could not recall
+anything which could satisfactorily account for the terrible
+disappointment and distress he had felt. She had only said that she was
+thirty-one years old, precisely as the vicar had stated on the previous
+evening, and she had advised him not to marry for some years to come. But
+she had laughed, and his feelings had been deeply wounded--he could not
+tell precisely at what point in the conversation, but he was quite
+certain that she had laughed, and oh! that terrible Nellie! It was very
+bitter, and John felt that the best part of his life was lived out. He
+went back to his books with a dark and melancholy tenacity of purpose,
+flavoured by a hope that he might come to some sudden and awful end in
+the course of the next fortnight, thereby causing untold grief and
+consternation to the hard-hearted woman he had loved. But before the
+fortnight had expired he found to his surprise that he was intensely
+interested in his work, and once or twice he caught himself wondering how
+Mrs. Goddard would look when he went back to Billingsfield and told her
+he had come out at the head of the classical Tripos--though, of course,
+he had no intention of going there, nor of ever seeing her again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Mr. Juxon was relieved to hear that John Short had suddenly gone back to
+Cambridge. He had indeed meant to like him from the first and had
+behaved towards him with kindness and hospitality; but while ready to
+admire his good qualities and to take a proper amount of interest in his
+approaching contest for honours, he had found him a troublesome person to
+deal with and, in his own words, a nuisance. Matters had come to a climax
+after the tea at the cottage, when the squire had so completely
+vanquished him, but since that evening the two had not met.
+
+The opposition which John brought to bear against Mr. Juxon was not,
+however, without its effect. The squire was in that state of mind in
+which a little additional pressure sufficed to sway his resolutions.
+It has been seen that he had for some time regarded Mrs. Goddard's
+society as an indispensable element in his daily life; he had been so
+much astonished at discovering this that he had absented himself for
+several days and had finally returned ready to submit to his fate, in so
+far as his fate required that he should see Mrs. Goddard every day.
+Shortly afterwards John had appeared and by his persistent attempts to
+monopolise Mrs. Goddard's conversation had again caused an interruption
+in the squire's habits, which the latter had resented with characteristic
+firmness. The very fact of having resisted John had strengthened and
+given a new tone to Mr. Juxon's feelings towards his tenant. He began to
+watch the hands of the clock with more impatience than formerly when,
+after breakfast, he sat reading the papers before the library fire,
+waiting for the hour when he was accustomed to go down to the cottage.
+His interest in the papers decreased as his interest in the time of day
+grew stronger, and for the first time in his life he found to his great
+surprise that after reading the news of the day with the greatest care,
+he was often quite unable to remember a word of what he had read. Then,
+at first, he would be angry with himself and would impose upon himself
+the task of reading the paper again before going to the cottage. But very
+soon he found that he had to read it twice almost every day, and this
+seemed such an unreasonable waste of time that he gave it up, and fell
+into very unsystematic habits.
+
+For some days, as though by mutual consent, neither Mrs. Goddard nor the
+squire spoke of John Short. The squire was glad he was gone and hoped
+that he would not come back, but was too kind-hearted to say so; Mrs.
+Goddard instinctively understood Mr. Juxon's state of mind and did not
+disturb his equanimity by broaching an unpleasant subject. Several days
+passed by after John had gone and he would certainly not have been
+flattered had he known that during that time two, out of the four persons
+he had met so often in his short holiday, had never so much as mentioned
+him.
+
+One afternoon in January the squire found himself alone with Mrs.
+Goddard. It was a great exception, and she herself doubted whether she
+were wise to receive him when she had not Nellie with her. Nellie had
+gone to the vicarage to help Mrs. Ambrose with some work she had in hand
+for her poor people, but Mrs. Goddard had a slight headache and had
+stayed at home in consequence. The weather was very bad; heavy clouds
+were driving overhead and the north-east wind howled and screamed through
+the leafless oaks of the park, driving a fine sleet against the cottage
+windows and making the dead creepers rattle against the wall. It was a
+bitter January day, and Mrs. Goddard felt how pleasant a thing it was to
+stay at home with a book beside her blazing fire. She was all alone, and
+Nellie would not be back before four o'clock. Suddenly a well-known step
+echoed upon the slate flags without and there was a ring at the bell.
+Mrs. Goddard had hardly time to think what she should do, as she laid her
+book upon her knee and looked nervously over her shoulder towards the
+door. It was awkward, she thought, but it could not be helped. In such
+weather it seemed absurd to send the squire away because her little girl
+was not with her. He had come all the way down from the Hall to spend
+this dreary afternoon at the cottage--she could not send him away. There
+were sounds in the passage as of some one depositing a waterproof coat
+and an umbrella, the door opened and Mr. Juxon appeared upon the
+threshold.
+
+"Come in," said Mrs. Goddard, banishing her scruples as soon as she saw
+him. "I am all alone," she added rather apologetically. The squire, who
+was a simple man in many ways, understood the remark and felt slightly
+embarrassed.
+
+"Is Miss Nellie out?" he asked, coming forward and taking Mrs. Goddard's
+hand. He had not yet reached the point of calling the child plain
+"Nellie;" he would have thought it an undue familiarity.
+
+"She is gone to the vicarage," answered Mrs. Goddard. "What a dreadful
+day! You must be nearly frozen. Will you have a cup of tea?"
+
+"No thanks--no, you are very kind. I have had a good walk; I am not
+cold--never am. As you say, in such weather I could not resist the
+temptation to come in. This is a capital day to test that India-rubber
+tubing we have put round your windows. Excuse me--I will just look and
+see if the air comes through."
+
+Mr. Juxon carefully examined the windows of the sitting-room and then
+returned to his seat.
+
+"It is quite air-tight, I think," he said with some satisfaction, as he
+smoothed his hair with his hand.
+
+"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Goddard. "It was so very good of you."
+
+"Not a bit of it," returned the squire cheerily. "A landlord's chief
+pre-occupation ought to be the comfort of his tenants and his next
+thought should be to keep his houses in repair. I never owned any
+houses before, so I have determined to start with good principles."
+
+"I am sure you succeed. You walked down?"
+
+"Always walk, in any weather. It is much less trouble and much cheaper.
+Besides, I like it."
+
+"The best of all reasons. Then you will not have any tea? I almost wish
+you would, because I want some myself."
+
+"Oh of course--in that case I shall be delighted. Shall I ring?"
+
+He rang and Martha brought the tea. Some time was consumed in the
+preparations which Mr. Juxon watched with interest as though he had never
+seen tea made before. Everything that Mrs. Goddard did interested him.
+
+"I do not know why it is," she said at last, "but weather like this is
+delightful when one is safe at home. I suppose it is the contrast--"
+
+"Yes indeed. It is like the watch below in dirty-weather."
+
+"Excuse me--I don't quite understand--"
+
+"At sea," explained the squire. "There is no luxury like being below when
+the decks are wet and there is heavy weather about."
+
+"I should think so," said Mrs. Goddard. "Have you been at sea much, Mr.
+Juxon?"
+
+"Thirty years," returned the squire laconically. Mrs. Goddard looked at
+him in astonishment.
+
+"You don't mean to say you have been a sailor all your life?"
+
+"Does that surprise you? I have been a sailor since I was twelve years
+old. But I got very tired of it. It is a hard life."
+
+"Were you in the navy, Mr. Juxon?" asked Mrs. Goddard eagerly, feeling
+that she was at last upon the track of some information in regard to his
+past life.
+
+"Yes--I was in the navy," answered the squire, slowly. "And then I was at
+college, and then in the navy again. At last I entered the merchant
+service and commanded my own ships for nearly twenty years."
+
+"How very extraordinary! Why then, you must have been everywhere."
+
+"Very nearly. But I would much rather be in Billingsfield."
+
+"You never told me," said Mrs. Goddard almost reproachfully. "What a
+change it must have been for you, from the sea to the life of a country
+gentleman!"
+
+"It is what I always wanted."
+
+"But you do not seem at all like the sea captains one hears about--"
+
+"Well, perhaps not," replied the squire thoughtfully. "There are a great
+many different classes of sea captains. I always had a taste for books. A
+man can read a great deal on a long voyage. I have sometimes been at sea
+for more than two years at a time. Besides, I had a fairly good education
+and--well, I suppose it was because I was a gentleman to begin with and
+was more than ten years in the Royal Navy. All that makes a great
+difference. Have you ever made a long voyage, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"I have crossed the channel," said she. "But I wish you would tell me
+something more about your life."
+
+"Oh no--it is very dull, all that. You always make me talk about myself,"
+said the squire in a tone of protestation.
+
+"It is very interesting."
+
+"But--could we not vary the conversation by talking about you a little?"
+suggested Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Oh no! Please--" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. She grew pale
+and busied herself again with the tea. "Do tell me more about your
+voyages. I suppose that was the way you collected so many beautiful
+things, was it not?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," answered the squire, looking at her curiously. "In
+fact of course it was. I was a great deal in China and South America and
+India, and in all sorts of places where one picks up things."
+
+"And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?"
+
+"Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil
+your carpet."
+
+The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point
+of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she
+had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost
+control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day.
+
+"Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about
+at first," she remarked, in order to say something.
+
+"I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her
+again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard--I don't mean to be inquisitive you know,
+but--I always want to be of any use."
+
+She looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I
+have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can
+help you in any way--you have only to say the word."
+
+Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the
+genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was
+surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was
+in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had
+suffered during the greater part of the last three years.
+
+"You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter--I have a
+headache."
+
+"Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed
+embarrassed.
+
+"You have done too much already," said Mrs. Goddard, fearing that she had
+not sufficiently acknowledged his offer of assistance.
+
+"I cannot do too much. That is impossible," he said in a tone of
+conviction. "I have very few friends, Mrs. Goddard, and I like to think
+that you are one of the best of them."
+
+"I am sure--I don't know what to say, Mr. Juxon," she answered, somewhat
+startled by the directness of his speech. "I am sure you have always been
+most kind, and I hope you do not think me ungrateful."
+
+"I? You? No--dear me, please never mention it! The fact is, Mrs.
+Goddard--" he stopped and smoothed Ms hair. "What particularly
+disagreeable weather," he remarked irrelevantly, looking out of the
+window at the driving sleet.
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked down and slowly stirred her tea. She was pale and her
+hand trembled a little, but no one could have guessed that she was
+suffering any strong emotion. Mr. Juxon looked towards the window, and
+the grey light of the winter's afternoon fell coldly upon his square
+sunburned face and carefully trimmed beard. He was silent for a moment,
+and then, still looking away from his companion, he continued in a less
+hesitating tone.
+
+"The fact is, I have been thinking a great deal of late," he said, "and
+it has struck me that your friendship has grown to be the most important
+thing in my life." He paused again and turned his hat round upon his
+knee. Still Mrs. Goddard said nothing, and as he did not look at her he
+did not perceive that she was unnaturally agitated.
+
+"I have told you what my life has been," he continued presently. "I have
+been a sailor. I made a little money. I finally inherited my uncle's
+estate here. I will tell you anything else you would like to ask--I don't
+think I ever did anything to conceal. I am forty-two years old. I have
+about five thousand a year and I am naturally economical. I would like to
+make you a proposal--a very respectful proposal, Mrs. Goddard--"
+
+Mrs. Goddard uttered a faint exclamation of surprise and fell back in her
+chair, staring with wide eyes at the squire, her cheeks very pale and her
+lips white. He was too much absorbed in what he was saying to notice the
+short smothered ejaculation, and he was too much embarrassed to look at
+her.
+
+"Mrs. Goddard," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "will you marry
+me?"
+
+He was not prepared for the result of his speech. He had pondered it for
+some time and had come to the conclusion that it was best to say as
+little as possible and to say it plainly. It was an honourable proposal
+of marriage from a man in middle life to a lady he had known and
+respected for many months; there was very little romance about it; he did
+not intend that there should be any. As soon as he had spoken he turned
+his head and looked to her for his answer. Mrs. Goddard had clasped her
+small white hands over her face and had turned her head away from him
+against the cushion of the high backed chair. The squire felt very
+uncomfortable in the dead silence, broken only by the sleet driving
+against the window panes with a hissing, rattling sound, and by the
+singing of the tea-kettle. For some seconds, which to Juxon seemed like
+an eternity, Mrs. Goddard did not move. At last she suddenly dropped
+her hands and looked into the squire's eyes. He was startled by the ashen
+hue of her face.
+
+"It is impossible," she said, shortly, in broken tones. But the squire
+was prepared for some difficulties.
+
+"I do not see the impossibility," he said quite calmly. "Of course,
+I would not press you for an answer, my dear Mrs. Goddard. I am afraid
+I have been very abrupt, but I will go away, I will leave you to
+consider--"
+
+"Oh no, no!" cried the poor lady in great distress. "It is quite
+impossible--I assure you it is quite, quite impossible!"
+
+"I don't know," said Mr. Juxon, who saw that she was deeply moved, but
+was loath to abandon the field without a further struggle. "I am not a
+very young man, it is true--but I am not a very old one either. You, my
+dear Mrs. Goddard, have been a widow for some years--"
+
+"I?" cried Mrs. Goddard with a wild hysterical laugh. "I! Oh God of
+mercy! I wish I were." Again she buried her face in the cushion. Her
+bosom heaved violently.
+
+The squire started as though he had been struck, and the blood rushed to
+his brown face so that the great veins on his temples stood out like
+cords.
+
+"Did I--did I understand you to say that--your husband is living?" he
+asked in a strong, loud voice, ringing with emotion.
+
+Mrs. Goddard moved a little and seemed to make a great effort to speak.
+
+"Yes," she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the
+room in terrible agitation.
+
+"But where?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. "Mrs. Goddard, I
+think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of
+him?"
+
+By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat
+supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly
+staring eyes.
+
+"You have a right to know," she said. "He is in Portland--sentenced to
+twelve years hard labour for forgery."
+
+She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she
+did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite
+motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the
+palms turned upwards on her knees.
+
+Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong
+language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of
+the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and
+he uttered aloud one strong and solemn ejaculation, more an invocation
+than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he
+looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady
+and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes,
+motionless, staring out at the driving sleet.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to
+attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should
+have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for
+in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened
+them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the
+grey light.
+
+"Mr. Juxon," she said faintly, "come here, please."
+
+The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His
+face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing.
+
+"Mr. Juxon," said Mrs. Goddard, speaking in a low voice, but with far
+more calm than he could have expected, "you have a right to know my
+story. You have been very kind to me, you have made an honourable offer
+to me, you have said you were my friend. I ought to have told you before.
+If I had had any idea of what was passing in your mind, I would have told
+you, cost what it might."
+
+Mr. Juxon gravely bowed his head. She was quite right, he thought. He had
+a right to know all. With all his kind-heartedness he was a stern man by
+nature.
+
+"Yes," continued Mrs. Goddard, "you have every right to know. My
+husband," her voice trembled, "was the head of an important firm in
+London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's
+death I married Mr. Goddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant
+tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon
+me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my
+husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern.
+When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My
+husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He
+speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his
+hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three
+years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed.
+It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and
+brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of
+retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of
+one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at
+Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most
+of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I
+thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers assured me that I
+ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It
+is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who
+conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I
+would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and
+gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story.
+I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--"
+
+Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her
+voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her
+eyes.
+
+"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her
+side, but who was in reality deeply moved.
+
+"No--she thinks he--that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she
+fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and
+rocking herself from side to side.
+
+"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her
+arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for
+having caused you so much pain--"
+
+"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady.
+
+"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard
+dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears.
+
+"I think you behaved very honourably--very generously," continued Mr.
+Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood
+much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you--you
+are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I
+should go?"
+
+"Yes--it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all
+about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to
+his feet.
+
+"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this--this very unfortunate
+day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?"
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears.
+
+"How good you are!" she said softly.
+
+"Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend.
+Good-bye--G--God bless you!" He seized her hand and squeezed it and then
+hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with
+Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him.
+
+The squire was not a romantic character. He was a strong plain man, who
+had seen the world and was used to most forms of danger and to a good
+many forms of suffering. He was kind-hearted and generous, capable of
+feeling sincere sympathy for others, and under certain circumstances of
+being deeply wounded himself. He had indeed a far more refined nature
+than he himself suspected and on this memorable day he had experienced
+more emotions than he remembered to have felt in the course of many
+years.
+
+After long debate and after much searching inquiry into his own motives
+he had determined to offer himself to Mrs. Goddard, and he had
+accordingly done so in his own straightforward manner. It had seemed
+a very important action in his life, a very solemn step, but he was not
+prepared for the acute sense of disappointment which he felt when Mrs.
+Goddard first said it was impossible for her to accept him, still less
+had he anticipated the extraordinary story which she had told him, in
+explanation of her refusal. His ideas were completely upset. That Mrs.
+Goddard was not a widow after all, was almost as astounding as that she
+should prove to be the wife of a felon. But Mr. Juxon was no less
+persuaded that she herself was a perfectly good and noble woman, than he
+had been before. He felt that he would like to cut the throat of the
+villain himself; but he resolved that he would more than ever try to be a
+good friend to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+He walked slowly through the storm towards his house, his broad figure
+facing the wind and sleet with as much ease as a steamer forging against
+a head sea. He was perfectly indifferent to the weather; but Stamboul
+slunk along at his heels, shielding himself from the driving wet snow
+behind his master's sturdy legs. The squire was very much disturbed. The
+sight of his own solemn butler affected him strangely. He stared about
+the library in a vacant way, as though he had never seen the place
+before. The realisation of his own calm and luxurious life seemed
+unnatural, and his thoughts went back to the poor weeping woman he had
+just left. She, too, had enjoyed all this, and more also. She had
+probably been richer than he. And now she was living on five hundred a
+year in one of his own cottages, hiding her shame in desolate
+Billingsfield, the shame of her husband, the forger.
+
+It was such a hopeless position, the squire thought. No one could help
+her, no one could do anything for her. For many weeks, revolving the
+situation in his mind, he had amused himself by thinking how she would
+look when she should be mistress of the Hall, and wondering whether
+little Nellie would call him "father," or merely "Mr. Juxon." And now,
+she turned out to be the wife of a forger, sentenced to hard labour in a
+convict prison, for twelve years. For twelve years--nearly three must
+have elapsed already. In nine years more Goddard would be out again.
+Would he claim his wife? Of course--he would come back to her for
+support. And poor little Nellie thought he was dead! It would be a
+terrible day when she had to be told. If he only would die in
+prison!--but men sentenced to hard labour rarely die. They are well cared
+for. It is a healthy life. He would certainly live through it and come
+back to claim his wife. Poor Mrs. Goddard! her troubles were not ended
+yet, though the State had provided her with a respite of twelve years.
+
+The squire sat long in his easy-chair in the great library, and forgot to
+dress for dinner--he always dressed, even though he was quite alone. But
+the solemn face of his butler betrayed neither emotion nor surprise when
+the master of the Hall walked into the dining-room in his knickerbockers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Nellie came home from the vicarage she found her mother looking very
+ill. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her features were drawn
+and tear-stained, while the beautiful waves of her brown hair had lost
+their habitual neatness and symmetry. The child noticed these things,
+with a child's quickness, but explained them on the ground that her
+mother's headache was probably much worse. Mrs. Goddard accepted the
+explanation and on the following day Nellie had forgotten all about it;
+but her mother remembered it long, and it was many days before she
+recovered entirely from the shock of her interview with the squire. The
+latter did not come to see her as usual, but on the morning after his
+visit he sent her down a package of books and some orchids from his
+hothouses. He thought it best to leave her to herself for a little while;
+the very sight of him, he argued, would be painful to her, and any
+meeting with her would be painful to himself. He did not go out of the
+house, but spent the whole day in his library among his books, not indeed
+reading, but pretending to himself that he was very busy. Being a strong
+and sensible man he did not waste time in bemoaning his sorrows, but he
+thought about them long and earnestly. The more he thought, the more it
+appeared to him that Mrs. Goddard was the person who deserved pity rather
+than he himself. His mind dwelt on the terrors of her position in case
+her husband should return and claim his wife and daughter when the twelve
+years were over, and he thought with horror of Nellie's humiliation, if
+at the age of twenty she should discover that her father during all these
+years had not been honourably dead and buried, but had been suffering the
+punishment of a felon in Portland. That the only attempt he had ever made
+to enter the matrimonial state should have been so singularly unfortunate
+was indeed a matter which caused him sincere sorrow; he had thought too
+often of being married to Mary Goddard to be able to give up the idea
+without a sigh. But it is due to him to say that in the midst of his own
+disappointment he thought much more of her sorrows than of his own, a
+state of mind most probably due to his temperament.
+
+He saw also how impossible it was to console Mrs. Goddard or even to
+alleviate the distress of mind which she must constantly feel. Her
+destiny was accomplished in part, and the remainder seemed absolutely
+inevitable. No one could prevent her husband from leaving his prison when
+his crime was expiated; and no one could then prevent him from joining
+his wife and ending his life under her roof. At least so it seemed.
+Endless complications would follow. Mrs. Goddard would certainly have to
+leave Billingsfield--no one could expect the Ambroses or the squire
+himself to associate with a convict forger. Mr. Juxon vaguely wondered
+whether he should live another nine years to see the end of all this, and
+he inwardly determined to go to sea again rather than to witness such
+misery. He could not see, no one could see how things could possibly turn
+out in any other way. It would have been some comfort to have gone to the
+vicar, and to have discussed with him the possibilities of Mrs. Goddard's
+future. The vicar was a man after his own heart, honest, reliable,
+charitable and brave; but Mr. Juxon thought that it would not be quite
+loyal towards Mrs. Goddard if he let any one else know that he was
+acquainted with her story.
+
+For two days he stayed at home and then he went to see her. To his
+surprise she received him very quietly, much as she usually did, without
+betraying any emotion; whereupon he wished that he had not allowed two
+days to pass without making his usual visit. Mrs. Goddard almost wished
+so too. She had been so much accustomed to regard the squire as a friend,
+and she had so long been used to the thought that Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose
+knew of her past trouble, that the fact of the squire becoming acquainted
+with her history seemed to her less important, now that it was
+accomplished, than it seemed to the squire himself. She had long thought
+of telling him all; she had seriously contemplated doing so when he first
+came to Billingsfield, and now at last the thing was done. She was glad
+of it. She was no longer in a false position; he could never again think
+of marrying her; they could henceforth meet as friends, since he was so
+magnanimous as to allow their friendship to exist. Her pride had suffered
+so terribly in the beginning that it was past suffering now. She felt
+that she was in the position of a suppliant asking only for a quiet
+resting-place for herself and her daughter, and she was grateful to the
+people who gave her what she asked, feeling that she had fallen among
+good Samaritans, whereas in merry England it would have been easy for her
+to have fallen among priests and Pharisees.
+
+So it came about that in a few days her relations with Mr. Juxon were
+re-established upon a new basis, but more firmly and satisfactorily than
+before, seeing that now there was no possibility of mistake. And for a
+long time it seemed as though matters would go on as before. Neither Mrs.
+Goddard nor the squire ever referred to the interview on that memorable
+stormy afternoon, and so far as the squire could judge his life and hers
+might go on with perfect tranquillity until it should please the powers
+that be and the governor of Portland to set Mr. Walter Goddard at
+liberty. Heaven only knew what would happen then, but it was provided
+that there should be plenty of time to prepare for anything which might
+ensue. The point upon which Mrs. Goddard had not spoken plainly was that
+which concerned her probable treatment of her husband after his
+liberation. She had passed that question over in silence. She had
+probably never dared to decide. Most probably she would at the last
+minute seek some safer retreat than Billingsfield and make tip her mind
+to hide for the rest of her life. But Mr. Juxon had heard of women who
+had carried charity as far as to receive back their husbands under even
+worse circumstances; women were soft-hearted creatures, reflected the
+squire, and capable of anything.
+
+Few people in such a situation could have acted consistently as though
+nothing had happened. But Mr. Juxon's extremely reticent nature found it
+easy to bury other people's important secrets at least as deeply as he
+buried the harmless details of his own honest life. Not a hair of his
+smooth head was ruffled, not a line of his square manly face was
+disturbed. He looked and acted precisely as he had looked and acted
+before. His butler remarked that he ate a little less heartily of late,
+and that on one evening, as has been recorded, the squire forgot to
+dress for dinner. But the butler in his day had seen greater
+eccentricities than these; he had the greatest admiration for Mr. Juxon
+and was not inclined to cavil at small things. A real gentleman, of the
+good sort, who dressed for dinner when he was alone, who never took too
+much wine, who never bullied the servants nor quarrelled unjustly with
+the bills, was, as the butler expressed it, "not to be sneezed at, on
+no account." The place was a little dull, but the functionary was well
+stricken in years and did not like hard work. Mr. Juxon seemed to be
+conscious that as he never had visitors at the Hall and as there were
+consequently no "tips," his staff was entitled to an occasional fee,
+which he presented always with great regularity, and which had the
+desired effect. He was a generous man as well as a just.
+
+The traffic in roses and orchids and new books continued as usual between
+the Hall and the cottage, and for many weeks nothing extraordinary
+occurred. Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard met frequently, and the only
+difference to be observed in the manner of the former was that she
+mentioned John Short very often, and every time she mentioned him she
+fixed her grey eyes sternly upon Mrs. Goddard, who however did not notice
+the scrutiny, or, if she did, was not in the least disturbed by it. For a
+long time Mrs. Ambrose entertained a feeble intention of addressing Mrs.
+Goddard directly upon the subject of John's affections, but the longer
+she put off doing so, the harder it seemed to do it. Mrs. Ambrose had
+great faith in the sternness of her eye under certain circumstances, and
+seeing that Mrs. Goddard never winced, she gradually fell into the belief
+that John had been the more to blame, if there was any blame in the
+matter. She had indeed succeeded in the first instance, by methods of her
+own which have been heretofore detailed, in extracting a sort of
+reluctant admission from her husband; but since that day he had proved
+obdurate to all entreaty. Once only he had said with considerable
+impatience that John was a very silly boy, and was much better engaged
+with his books at college than in running after Mrs. Goddard. That was
+all, and gradually as the regular and methodical life at the vicarage
+effaced the memory of the doings at Christmas time, the good Mrs.
+Ambrose forgot that anything unpleasant had ever occurred. There was no
+disturbance of the existing relations and everything went on as before
+for many weeks. The February thaw set in early and the March winds began
+to blow before February was fairly out. Nat Barker the octogenarian
+cripple, who had the reputation of being a weather prophet, was
+understood to have said that the spring was "loike to be forrard t'year,"
+and the minds of the younger inhabitants were considerably relieved. Not
+that Nat Barker's prophecies were usually fulfilled; no one ever
+remembered them at the time when they might have been verified. But they
+were always made at the season when people had nothing to do but to talk
+about them. Mr. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, turned up his nose
+at them, and said he "wished Nat Barker had to dig a parish depth grave
+in three hours without a drop of nothin' to wet his pipe with, and if he
+didden fine that groun' oncommon owdacious Thomas Reid he didden know.
+They didden know nothin', sir, them parish cripples." Wherewith the
+worthy sexton took his way with a battered tin can to get his "fours"
+at the Feathers. He did not patronise the Duke's Head. It was too
+new-fangled for him, and he suspected his arch enemy, Mr. Abraham Boosey,
+of putting a rat or two into the old beer to make it "draw," which
+accounted for its being so "hard." But Mr. Abraham Boosey was the
+undertaker, and he, Thomas Reid, was the sexton, and it did not do to
+express these views too loudly, lest perchance Mr. Boosey should, just in
+his play, construct a coffin or two just too big for the regulation
+grave, and thereby leave Mr. Reid in the lurch. For the undertaker and
+the gravedigger are as necessary to each other, as Mr. Reid maintained,
+as a pair of blackbirds in a hedge.
+
+But the spring was "forrard t'year" and the weather was consequently even
+more detestable than usual at that season. The roads were heavy. The rain
+seemed never weary of pouring down and the wind never tired of blowing.
+The wet and leafless creepers beat against the walls of the cottage, and
+the chimneys smoked both there and at the vicarage. The rooms were
+pervaded with a disagreeable smell of damp coal smoke, and the fires
+struggled desperately to burn against the overwhelming odds of rain and
+wind which came down the chimneys. Mrs. Goddard never remembered to have
+been so uncomfortable during the two previous winters she had spent in
+Billingsfield, and even Nellie grew impatient and petulant. The only
+bright spot in those long days seemed to be made by the regular visits of
+Mr. Juxon, by the equally regular bi-weekly appearance of the Ambroses
+when they came to tea, and by the little dinners at the vicarage. The
+weather had grown so wet and the roads so bad that on these latter
+occasions the vicar sent his dogcart with Reynolds and the old mare,
+Strawberry, to fetch his two guests. Even Mr. Juxon, who always walked
+when he could, had got into the habit of driving down to the cottage
+in a strange-looking gig which he had imported from America, and which,
+among all the many possessions of the squire, alone attracted the
+unfavourable comment of his butler. He would have preferred to see a good
+English dogcart, high in the seat and wheels, at the door of the Hall,
+instead of that outlandish vehicle; but Joseph Ruggles, the groom,
+explained to him that it was easier to clean than a dogcart, and that
+when it rained he sat inside with the squire.
+
+On a certain evening in February, towards the end of the month, Mr. and
+Mrs. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon came to have tea with Mrs. Goddard. Mr. Juxon
+had at first not been regularly invited to these entertainments. They
+were perhaps not thought worthy of his grandeur; at all events both the
+vicar's wife and Mrs. Goddard had asked him very rarely. But as time went
+on and Mr. Juxon's character developed under the eyes of the little
+Billingsfield society, it had become apparent to every one that he was a
+very simple man, making no pretensions whatever to any superiority on
+account of his station. They grew more and more fond of him, and ended by
+asking him to their small sociable evenings. On these occasions it
+generally occurred that the squire and the vicar fell into conversation
+about classical and literary subjects while the two ladies talked of the
+little incidents of Billingsfield life, of Tom Judd's wife and of Joe
+Staines, the choir boy, who was losing his voice, and of similar topics
+of interest in the very small world in which they lived.
+
+The present evening had not been at all a remarkable one so far as the
+talk was concerned. The drenching rain, the tendency of the fire to
+smoke, the general wetness and condensed depravity of the atmosphere had
+affected the spirits of the little party. They were not gay, and they
+broke up early. It was not nine o'clock when all had gone, and Mrs.
+Goddard and little Eleanor were left alone by the side of their
+drawing-room fire. The child sat upon a footstool and leaned her head
+against her mother's knee. Mrs. Goddard herself was thoughtful and
+sad, without precisely knowing why. She generally looked forward with
+pleasure to meeting the Ambroses, but this evening she had been rather
+disappointed. The conversation had dragged, and the excellent Mrs.
+Ambrose had been more than usually prosy. Nellie had complained of a
+headache and leaned wearily against her mother's knee.
+
+"Tell me a story, mamma--won't you? Like the ones you used to tell me
+when I was quite a little girl."
+
+"Dear child," said her mother, who was not thinking of story-telling, "I
+am afraid I have forgotten all the ones I ever knew. Besides, darling, it
+is time for you to go to bed."
+
+"I don't want to go to bed, mamma. It is such a horrid night. The wind
+keeps me awake."
+
+"You will not sleep at all if I tell you a story," objected Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Mr. Juxon tells me such nice stories," said Nellie, reproachfully.
+
+"What are they about, dear?"
+
+"Oh, his stories are beautiful. They are always about ships and the blue
+sea and wonderful desert islands where he has been. What a wonderful man
+he is, mamma, is not he?"
+
+"Yes, dear, he talks very interestingly." Mrs. Goddard stroked Nellie's
+brown curls and looked into the fire.
+
+"He told me that once, ever so many years ago--he must be very old,
+mamma--" Nellie paused and looked up inquiringly.
+
+"Well, darling--not so very, very old. I think he is over forty."
+
+"Over forty--four times eleven--he is not four times as old as I am.
+Almost, though. All his stories are ever so many years ago. He said he
+was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new ship, and the name of
+the ship was--let me see, what was the name? I think it was--"
+
+Mrs. Goddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child's shoulder.
+
+"Did you hear anything, Nellie?" she asked quickly. Nellie looked up in
+some surprise.
+
+"No, mamma. When? Just now? It must have been the wind. It is such a
+horrid night. The name of the ship was the 'Zephyr'--I remember, now."
+She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story. Mrs.
+Goddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window. She
+had probably been mistaken.
+
+"And where did the ship sail to, Nellie dear?" she asked, smoothing the
+child's curls again and forcing herself to smile.
+
+"Oh--the ship was a perfectly new ship and it was the most beautiful
+weather in the world. They were sailing away ever so far, towards the
+straits of Magellan. I was so glad because I knew where the straits of
+Magellan were--and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished. But I had been
+learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen
+there, in my geography that very morning--was not it lucky? So I knew all
+about it--mamma, how nervous you are! It is nothing but the wind. I wish
+you would listen to my story--"
+
+"I am listening, darling," said Mrs. Goddard, making a strong effort to
+overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her. "Go on,
+sweetheart--you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing
+away--"
+
+"Mr. Juxon was, mamma," said Nellie correcting her mother with the
+asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects.
+
+"Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the ship was the 'Zephyr.'"
+
+"Yes--the 'Zephyr,'" repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified. "It was at
+Christmas time he said--but that is summer in the southern hemisphere,"
+she added, proud of her knowledge. "So it was very fine weather. And Mr.
+Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a
+cigar--"
+
+"He never smokes, dear," interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie
+that she was listening.
+
+"Well, but he did then, because he said so," returned Nellie unmoved.
+"And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he
+saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship--the most wonderful thing
+he ever saw," added Nellie with some redundance of expression.
+
+"Was it a whale, child?" asked her mother, staring into the fire and
+trying to pay attention.
+
+"A whale, mamma!" repeated Nellie contemptuously. "As if there were
+anything remarkable about a whale! Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales,
+I am sure."
+
+"Well, what was it, dear?"
+
+"It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a
+thousand times as big as the ship--oh mamma! What was that?"
+
+Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking
+towards the window. Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of
+her chair.
+
+"Somebody knocked at the window, mamma," said Nellie breathlessly. "And
+then somebody said 'Mary'--quite loud. Oh mamma, what can it be?"
+
+"Mary?" repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream.
+
+"Yes--quite loud. Oh mamma! it must be Mary's young man--he does
+sometimes come in the evening."
+
+"Mary's young man, child?" Mrs. Goddard's heart leaped. Her cook's name
+was Mary, as well as her own. Nellie naturally never associated the name
+with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it.
+
+"Yes mamma. Don't you know? The postman--the man with the piebald horse."
+The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any
+letters and probably did not know the postman by sight.
+
+"At this time of night!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "It is too bad. Mary is
+gone to bed."
+
+"Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting
+up for you in the drawing-room," suggested Nellie with much good sense.
+"Well, he can't come in, can he, mamma?"
+
+"Certainly not," said her mother. "But I think you had much better go to
+bed, my dear. It is half-past nine." She spoke indistinctly, almost
+thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. But
+Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her
+mother.
+
+"Oh not yet," said she. "I have not nearly finished about the
+sea-serpent. Mr. Juxon said it was not like anything in the world. Do
+listen, mamma! It is the most wonderful story you ever heard. It was
+all covered with blue and green scales, and it rolled, and rolled, and
+rolled, and rolled, till at last it rolled up against the side of the
+ship with such a tremendous bump that Mr. Juxon fell right down on his
+back."
+
+"Yes dear," said Mrs. Goddard mechanically, as the child paused.
+
+"You don't seem to mind at all!" cried Nellie, who felt that her efforts
+to amuse her mother were not properly appreciated. "He fell right down on
+his back and hurt himself awfully."
+
+"That was very sad," said Mrs. Goddard. "Did he catch the sea-serpent
+afterwards ?"
+
+"Catch the sea-serpent! Why mamma, don't you know that nobody has ever
+caught the sea-serpent? Why, hardly anybody has ever seen him, even!"
+
+"Yes dear, but I thought Mr. Juxon--"
+
+"Of course, Mr. Juxon is the most wonderful man--but he could not catch
+the sea-serpent. Just fancy! When he got up from his fall, he looked and
+he saw him quite half a mile away. He must have gone awfully fast, should
+not you think so? Because, you know, it was only a minute."
+
+"Yes, my child; and it is a beautiful story, and you told it so nicely.
+It is very interesting and you must tell me another to-morrow. But now,
+dear, you must really go to bed, because I am going to bed, too. That man
+startled me so," she said, passing her small white hand over her pale
+forehead and then staring into the fire.
+
+"Well, I don't wonder," answered Nellie in a patronising tone. "Such a
+dreadful night too! Of course, it would startle anybody. But he won't try
+again, and you can scold Mary to-morrow and then she can scold her young
+man."
+
+The child spoke so naturally that all doubts vanished from Mrs. Goddard's
+mind. She reflected that children are much more apt to see things as they
+are, than grown people whose nerves are out of order. Nellie's
+conclusions were perfectly logical, and it seemed folly to doubt them.
+She determined that Mary should certainly be scolded on the morrow and
+she unconsciously resolved in her mind the words she should use; for she
+was rather a timid woman and stood a little in awe of her stalwart
+Berkshire cook, with her mighty arms and her red face, and her uncommonly
+plain language.
+
+"Yes dear," she said more quietly than she had been able to speak for
+some time, "I have no doubt you are quite right. I thought I heard his
+footsteps just now, going down the path. So he will not trouble us any
+more to-night. And now darling, kneel down and say your prayers, and then
+we will go to bed."
+
+So Nellie, reassured by the news that her mother was going to bed, too,
+knelt down as she had done every night during the eleven years of her
+life, and clasped her hands together, beneath her mother's. Then she
+cleared her throat, then she glanced at the clock, then she looked for
+one moment into the sweet serious violet eyes that looked down on her so
+lovingly, and then at last she bent her lovely little head and began to
+say her prayers, there, by the fire, at her mother's knees, while angry
+storm howled fiercely without and shook the closed panes and shutters
+and occasional drops of rain, falling down the short chimney, sputtered
+in the smouldering coal fire.
+
+"Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom
+come--"
+
+Nellie gave a loud scream and springing up from her knees flung her arms
+around her mother's neck, in uttermost, wildest terror.
+
+"Mamma, mamma!" she cried looking, and yet hardly daring to look, back
+towards the closed window. "It called 'MARY GODDARD'! It is you, mamma!
+Oh!"
+
+There was no mistaking it this time. While Nellie was saying her prayer
+there had come three sharp and distinct raps upon the wooden shutter, and
+a voice, not loud but clear, penetrating into the room in spite of wind
+and storm and rain.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard!" it said.
+
+Mrs. Goddard started to her feet, lifting Nellie bodily from the ground
+in her agony of terror; staring round the room wildly as though in search
+of some possible escape.
+
+"I must come in! I will come in!" said the voice again.
+
+"Oh don't let him in! Mamma! Don't let him in!" moaned the terrified
+child upon her breast, clinging to her and weighing her down, and
+grasping her neck and arm with convulsive strength.
+
+But in moments of great agitation timid people, or people who are thought
+timid, not uncommonly do brave things. Mrs. Goddard unclasped Nellie's
+hold and forced the terror-struck child into a deep chair.
+
+"Stay there, darling," she said with unnatural calmness. "Do not be
+afraid. I will go and open the door."
+
+Nellie was now too much frightened to resist. Mrs. Goddard went out into
+the little passage which was dimly lighted by a hanging lamp, and closed
+the door of the drawing-room behind her. She could hear Nellie's
+occasional convulsive sobs distinctly. For one moment she paused, her
+right hand on the lock of the front door, her left hand pressed to her
+side, leaning against the wall of the passage. Then she turned the key
+and the handle and drew the door in towards her. A violent gust of wind,
+full of cold and drenching rain, whirled into the passage and almost
+blinded her. The lamp flickered in the lantern overhead. But she looked
+boldly out, facing the wind and weather.
+
+"Come in!" she called in a low voice.
+
+Immediately there was a sound as of footsteps coming from the direction
+of the drawing-room window, across the wet slate flags which surrounded
+the cottage, and a moment afterwards, peering through the darkness, Mrs.
+Goddard saw a man with a ghastly face standing before her in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard's heart stood still as she looked at the wretched man, and
+tried to discover her husband's face, even a resemblance to him, in the
+haggard features she saw close before her. But he gave her small time for
+reflection; so soon as he had recognised her he sprang past her into the
+passage and pulling her after him closed the door.
+
+"Mary--don't you know me?" he said, in low tones. "You must save me--they
+are after me--" He stood close beside her in the narrow way, beneath
+the small lamp; he tried to put his arm around her and he bent down and
+brought his ghastly face close to hers. But she drew back as from a
+contamination. She was horrified, and it was a natural movement. She knew
+his voice even better than his features, now that he spoke. He pressed
+nearer to her and she thrust him back with her hands. Then suddenly a
+thought struck her; she took him by the sleeve and led him into the
+dining-room. There was no light there; she pushed him in.
+
+"Stay there one minute--"
+
+"No--no, you won't call--"
+
+"I will save you--there is--there is somebody in the drawing-room."
+Before he could answer her she was gone, leaving him alone in the dark.
+He listened intently, not venturing to leave the spot where she had
+placed him; he thought he heard voices and footsteps, but no one came out
+into the passage. It seemed an eternity to wait. At last she came,
+bearing a lighted candle in her hand. She carefully shut the door of the
+dining-room behind her and put the light upon the table. She moved like a
+person in a dream.
+
+"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair. "Are you hungry?" His sunken
+eyes sparkled. She brought food and ale and set them before him. He ate
+and drank voraciously in silence. She sat at the opposite side of the
+table--the solitary candle between them, and shading her eyes with one
+hand she gazed at his face.
+
+Walter Goddard was a man at least forty years of age. He had been thought
+very handsome once. He had light blue eyes and a fair skin with flaxen
+hair--now cropped short and close to his head. There was nearly a
+fortnight's growth of beard upon his face, but it was not yet sufficient
+to hide his mouth and chin. He had formerly worn a heavy moustache and
+it was chiefly the absence of it which now made it hard for his wife to
+recognise him. A battered hat, drenched and dripping with rain, shaded
+his brows. Possibly he was ashamed to remove it. His mouth was small and
+weak and his jaw was pointed. His whole expression was singularly
+disagreeable--his hands were filthy, and his face was not clean. About
+his neck was twisted a ragged woollen comforter, and he wore a
+smock-frock which was now soaked with water and clung to his thin figure.
+He devoured the food his wife had brought him, shivering from time to
+time as though he were still cold.
+
+Mrs. Goddard watched him in silence. She had done mechanically according
+to her first instinct, had led him in and had given him food. But she had
+not recovered herself sufficiently from her first horror and astonishment
+to realise her situation. At last she spoke.
+
+"How did you escape?" she asked. He bent lower than before, over his
+plate and would not look at her.
+
+"Don't ask me," he answered shortly.
+
+"Why did you do it?" she inquired again. Goddard laughed harshly; his
+voice was hoarse and cracked.
+
+"Why did I do it!" he repeated. "Did you ever hear of any one who would
+not escape from prison if he had the chance? Don't look at me like that,
+Mary--"
+
+"I am sorry for you," she said.
+
+"You don't seem very glad to see me," he answered roughly. "I might have
+known it."
+
+"Yes, you might have known it."
+
+It seemed a very hard and cruel thing to say, and Mary Goddard was very
+far from being a cruel woman by nature; but she was stunned by fear and
+disgust and horrified by the possibilities of harm suddenly brought
+before her.
+
+Goddard pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows upon the table
+supporting his chin in his hands. He scowled at her defiantly.
+
+"You have given me a warm reception, after nearly three years
+of--separation." There was a bitter sneer in the word.
+
+"I am horrified to see you here," she said simply. "You know very well
+that I cannot conceal you--"
+
+"Oh, I don't expect miracles," said Goddard contemptuously. "I don't know
+that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly
+agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved
+husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--"
+
+"I will do what I can for you, Walter," said his wife, whose unnatural
+calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation.
+
+"Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east," answered
+the convict savagely.
+
+"I have not got fifty pounds in the house," protested Mary Goddard, in
+some alarm. "I never keep much money--I can get it for you--"
+
+"I have a great mind to look," returned her husband suspiciously. "How
+soon can you get it?"
+
+"To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--"
+
+"So you keep a banker's account?"
+
+"Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!"
+
+"Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once." Suddenly his voice
+changed. "Oh, Mary--you used to love me!" cried the wretched man, burying
+his face in his hands.
+
+"I was very wrong," answered his wife, looking away from him. "You did
+not deserve it--you never did."
+
+"Because I was unfortunate!"
+
+"Unfortunate!" repeated Mary Goddard with rising scorn.
+"Unfortunate--when you were deceiving me every day of your life. I could
+have forgiven a great deal--Walter--but not that, not that!"
+
+"What? About the money?" he asked with sudden fierceness.
+
+"The money--no. Even though you were disgraced and convicted, Walter, I
+would have forgiven that, I would have tried to see you, to comfort you.
+I should have been sorry for you; I would have done what I could to help
+you. But I could not forgive you the rest; I never can."
+
+"Bah! I never cared for her," said the convict. But under his livid skin
+there rose a faint blush of shame.
+
+"You never cared for me--that is the reason I--am not glad to see you--"
+
+"I did, Mary. Upon my soul I did. I love you still!" He rose and came
+near to his wife, and again he would have put his arm around her. But she
+sprang to her feet with an angry light in her eyes.
+
+"If you dare to touch me, I will give you up!" she cried. Goddard shrank
+back to his chair, very pale and trembling violently.
+
+"You would not do that, Mary," he almost whined. But she remained
+standing, looking at him very menacingly.
+
+"Indeed I would--you don't know me," she said, between her teeth.
+
+"You are as hard as a stone," he answered, sullenly, and for some minutes
+there was silence between them.
+
+"I suppose you are going to turn me out into the rain again?" asked the
+convict.
+
+"You cannot stay here--you are not safe for a minute. You will have to
+go. You must come back to-morrow and I will give you the money. You had
+better go now--"
+
+"Oh, Mary, I would not have thought it of you," moaned Goddard.
+
+"Why--what else can I do? I cannot let you sleep in the house--I have no
+barn. If any one saw you here it would be all over. People know about
+it--"
+
+"What people?"
+
+"The vicar and his wife and Mr. Juxon at the Hall."
+
+"Mr. Juxon? What is he like? Would he give me up if he knew?"
+
+"I think he would," said Mary Goddard, thoughtfully. "I am almost sure he
+would. He is the justice of the peace here--he would be bound to."
+
+"Do you know him?" Goddard thought he detected a slight nervousness in
+his wife's manner.
+
+"Very well. This house belongs to him."
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated the convict. "I begin to see."
+
+"Yes--you see you had better go," said his wife innocently. "How can you
+manage to come here tomorrow? You cannot go on without the money--"
+
+"No--and I don't mean to," he answered roughly. Money was indeed an
+absolute necessity to him. "Give me what you have got in the house,
+anyhow. You may think better of it to-morrow. I don't trust people of
+your stamp."
+
+Mary Goddard rose without a word and left the room. When she was gone the
+convict set himself to finish the jug of ale she had brought, and looked
+about him. He saw objects that reminded him of his former home. He
+examined the fork with which he had eaten and remembered the pattern and
+the engraved initials as he turned it over in his hand. The very table
+itself had belonged to his house--the carpet beneath his feet, the chair
+upon which he sat. It all seemed too unnatural to be true. That very
+night, that very hour, he must go forth again into the wild February
+weather and hide himself, leaving all these things behind him; leaving
+behind too his wife, the woman he had so bitterly injured, but who was
+still his wife. It seemed impossible. Surely he might stay if he pleased;
+it was not true that detectives were on his track--it was all a dream,
+since that dreadful day when he had written that name, which was not his,
+upon a piece of paper. He had waked up and was again at home. But he
+started as he heard a footstep in the passage, being now accustomed to
+start at sounds which suggested pursuit; he started and he felt the wet
+smock-frock, which was his disguise, clinging to him as he moved, and the
+reality of the present returned to him with awful force. His wife again
+entered the room.
+
+"There are over nine pounds," she said. "It is all I have." She laid the
+money upon the table before him and remained standing. "You shall have
+the rest to-morrow," she added.
+
+"Can't I see Nellie?" he asked suddenly. It was the first time he had
+spoken of his child. Mrs. Goddard hesitated.
+
+"No," she said at last. "You cannot see her now. She must not be told;
+she thinks you are dead. You may catch a glimpse of her to-morrow--"
+
+"Well--it is better she should not know, I suppose. You could not
+explain."
+
+"No, Walter, I could not--explain. Come later to-morrow night--to the
+same window. I will undo the shutters and give you the money." Mary
+Goddard was almost overcome with exhaustion. It was a terrible struggle
+to maintain her composure under such circumstances; but necessity does
+wonders. "Where will you sleep to-night?" she asked presently. She pitied
+the wretch from her heart, though she longed to see him leave her house.
+
+"I will get into the stables of some public-house. I pass for a tramp."
+There was a terrible earnestness in the simple statement, which did more
+to make Mary Goddard realise her husband's position than anything else
+could have done. To people who live in the country the word "tramp" means
+so much.
+
+"Poor Walter!" said Mrs. Goddard softly, and for the first time since she
+had seen him the tears stood in her eyes.
+
+"Don't waste your pity on me," he answered. "Let me be off."
+
+There was half a loaf and some cheese left upon the table. Mrs. Goddard
+put them together and offered them to him.
+
+"You had better take it," she said. He took the food readily enough and
+hid it under his frock. He knew the value of it. Then he got upon his
+feet. He moved painfully, for the cold and the wet had stiffened his
+limbs already weakened with hunger and exhaustion.
+
+"Let me be off," he said again, and moved towards the door. His wife
+followed him in silence. In the passage he paused again.
+
+"Well, Mary," he said, "I suppose I ought to be grateful to you for not
+giving me up to the police."
+
+"You know very well," answered Mrs. Goddard, "that what I can do to save
+you, I will do. You know that."
+
+"Then do it, and don't forget the money. It's hanging this time if I'm
+caught."
+
+Mrs. Goddard uttered a low cry and leaned against the wall.
+
+"What?" she faltered. "You have not--"
+
+"I believe I killed somebody in getting away," answered the felon with a
+grim laugh. Then, without her assistance, he opened the door and went out
+into the pouring rain. The door shut behind him and Mary Goddard heard
+his retreating footsteps on the path outside. When he was fairly gone she
+suddenly broke down, and falling upon her knees in the passage beat her
+forehead against the wall in an agony of despair.
+
+Murderer--thief, forger and murderer, too! It was more than she could
+bear. Even now he was within a stone's throw of her house; a moment ago
+he had been here, beside her--there beyond, too, in the dining-room,
+sitting opposite to her at her own table as he had sat in his days of
+innocence and honour for many a long year before his crime. In the sudden
+necessity of acting, in the unutterable surprise of finding herself again
+face to face with him, she had been calm; now that he was gone she felt
+as though she must go mad. She asked herself if this filthy tramp, this
+branded villain, was the husband she had loved and cherished for years,
+whose beauty she had admired, whose hand she had held so often, whose
+lips she had kissed--if this was the father of her lovely child. It was
+all over now. There was blood upon his hands as well as other guilt. If
+he were caught he must die, or at the very least be imprisoned for life.
+He could never again be free to come forth after the expiation of his
+crimes and to claim her and his child. If he escaped now, it must be to
+live in a distant country under a perpetual disguise. If he were caught,
+the news of his capture would be in all the papers, the news of his trial
+for murder, the very details of his execution. The Ambroses would know
+and the squire, even the country folk, would perhaps at last know the
+truth about her. Life even in the quiet spot she had chosen would become
+intolerable, and she would be obliged to go forth again into a more
+distant exile. She bitterly repented having written to her husband in his
+prison to tell him where she was settled. It would have been sufficient
+to acquaint the governor with the fact, so that Goddard might know where
+she was when his term expired. She had never written but once, and he had
+perhaps not been allowed to answer the letter. His appearance at her door
+proved that he had received it. Would to God he had not, she thought.
+
+There were other things besides his crime of forgery which had acted far
+more powerfully upon Mary Goddard's mind, and which had broken for ever
+all ties of affection; circumstances which had appeared during his trial
+and which had shown that he had not only been unfaithful to those who
+trusted him, but had been unfaithful to the wife who loved him. That was
+what she could not forgive; it was the memory of that which rose like an
+impassable wall between her and him, worse than his frauds, his forgery,
+worse almost than his murder. He had done that which even a loving woman
+could not pardon, that which was past all forgiveness. That was why his
+sudden appearance roused no tender memories, elicited seemingly so little
+sympathy from her. She was too good a woman to say it, but she knew in
+her heart that she wished him dead, the very possibility of ever seeing
+him again gone from her life for ever, no matter how.
+
+But she must see him again, nevertheless, and to-morrow. To-morrow, too,
+she would have to meet the squire, and appear to act and talk as though
+nothing had happened in this terrible night. That would be the hardest of
+all, perhaps; even harder than meeting her husband for a brief moment in
+order to give him the means of escape. She felt that in helping him she
+was participating in his crimes, and yet, she asked herself, what woman
+would have acted differently? What woman, even though she might hate her
+husband with her whole soul, and justly, would yet be so hard-hearted as
+to refuse him assistance when he was flying for his life? It would be
+impossible. She must help him at any cost; but it was hard to feel that
+she must see the squire and behave with indifference, while her husband
+was lurking in the neighbourhood, when a detective might at any moment
+come to the door, and demand to search the house.
+
+These thoughts passed very quickly through her overwrought brain, as she
+knelt in the passage; kneeling because she felt she could no longer
+stand, the passionate tears streaming down her face, her small hands
+pressing her temples. Then she struggled to her feet and dried her eyes,
+steadying herself against the wall for a moment. She had almost forgotten
+little Nellie whom she had left in the drawing-room. She had told the
+child, when she went back to her, leaving Goddard alone in the dark, that
+the man was a poor starving tramp, but that she did not want Nellie to
+see him, because he looked so miserable. She would give him something to
+eat and send him away, she said, and meanwhile Nellie should sit by the
+drawing-room fire and wait for her. The child trusted her mother
+implicitly and was completely reassured. Mrs. Goddard dried her eyes,
+and re-entered the room. Nellie was curled up in a big chair with a book;
+she looked up quickly.
+
+"Why, mamma," she said, "you have been crying!"
+
+"Have I, darling? I daresay it was the sight of that poor man. He was
+very wretched."
+
+"Is he gone?" asked the child.
+
+It was unusually late and Nellie was beginning to be sleepy, so that she
+was more easily quieted than she could have been in ordinary
+circumstances. It might have struck her as strange that a wandering tramp
+should know her mother's Christian name, as still more inexplicable that
+her mother should have been willing to admit such a man at so late an
+hour. She had been badly frightened, but trusting her mother as she did,
+her terror had quickly disappeared and had been quickly followed by
+sleepiness.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard. did not sleep that night. She felt as though she could
+never sleep again, and for many hours she lay thinking of the new element
+of fear which had so suddenly come into her life at the very time when
+she believed herself to be safe for many years to come. She longed to
+know where her wretched husband was; whether he had found shelter for the
+night, whether he was still free or whether he had even then fallen into
+the hands of his pursuers. She knew that she could not have concealed him
+in the house and that she had done all that lay in her power for him. But
+she started at every sound, as the rain rattled against the shutters and
+the wind howled down the chimney.
+
+Walter Goddard, however, was safe for the present and was even
+luxuriously lodged, considering his circumstances, for he was comfortably
+installed amongst the hay in the barn of the "Feathers" inn. He had been
+in Billingsfield since early in the afternoon and had considered
+carefully the question of his quarters for the night. He had observed
+from a distance the landlord of the said inn, and had boldly offered to
+do a "day's work for a night's lodging." He said he was "tramping" his
+way back from London to his home in Yorkshire; he knew enough of the
+sound of the rough Yorkshire dialect to pass for a native of that county
+amongst ignorant labourers who had never heard the real tongue. The
+landlord of the Feathers consented to the bargain and Goddard was told
+that he might sleep in the barn if he liked, and should take a turn at
+cutting chaff the next day to pay for the convenience. The convict slept
+soundly; he was past lying awake in useless fits of remorse, and he was
+exhausted with his day's journey. Moreover he had now the immediate
+prospect of obtaining sufficient money to carry him safely out of the
+country, and once abroad he felt sure of baffling pursuit. He was an
+accomplished man and spoke French with a fluency unusual in Englishmen;
+he determined to get across the channel in some fishing craft; he would
+then make his way to Paris and enlist in the Foreign Legion. It would be
+safer than trying to go to America, where people were invariably caught
+as they landed. It was a race for life and death, and he knew it. Had he
+been able to obtain clothes, money and a disguise in London he would have
+travelled by rail. But that had been impossible and it now seemed a wiser
+plan to "tramp" it. His beard was growing rapidly and would soon make a
+complete disguise. Village constables are generally simple people, easily
+imposed upon, very different from London detectives; and hitherto he felt
+sure that he had baffled pursuit by the mere simplicity of his
+proceedings. The intelligent officials of Scotland Yard were used to
+forgers and swindlers who travelled by express trains and crossed to
+America by fashionable steamers. It did not strike them as very likely
+that a man of Walter Goddard's previous tastes and habits could get
+through the country in the guise of a tramp. If he had been possessed at
+the time of his escape of the money he so much desired he would probably
+have been caught; as it was, he got away without difficulty, and at the
+very time when every railway station and every port in the kingdom were
+being watched for him, he was lurking in the purlieus of Whitechapel, and
+then tramping his way east in comparative safety, half starved, it is
+true, but unmolested.
+
+That he was disappointed at the reception his wife had given him did not
+prevent him from sleeping peacefully that night. One thing alone
+disturbed him, and that was her mention of Mr. Juxon, in whose house, as
+she had told him, she lived. It seems incredible that a man in Walter
+Goddard's position, lost to every sense of honour, a criminal of the
+worst type, who had deceived his wife before he was indicted for forgery,
+who had certainly cared very little for her at any time, should now, in a
+moment of supreme danger, feel a pang of jealousy on hearing that his
+wife lived in the vicinity of the squire and occupied a house belonging
+to him. But he was too bad himself not to suspect others, especially
+those whom he had wronged, and the feeling was mingled with a strong
+curiosity to know whether this woman, who now treated him so haughtily
+and drew back from him as from some monstrous horror, was as good as she
+pretended to be. He said to himself that on the next day at dawn he would
+slip out of the barn and try whether he could not find some hiding-place
+within easy reach of the cottage, so as to be able to watch her dwelling
+at his ease throughout the day. The plan seemed a good one. Since he was
+obliged to wait twenty-four hours in order to get the money he wanted, he
+might as well employ the time profitably in observing his wife's habits.
+It would be long, he said to himself with a bitter sneer, before he
+troubled her again--he would just like to see.
+
+Having come to this decision he drew some of the hay over his body and in
+spite of cold and wet was soon peacefully asleep. But at early dawn he
+awoke with the alacrity of a man who constantly expects pursuit, and
+slipped down from the hayloft into the barn. There was no one stirring
+and he got over the fence at the back of the yard and skirted the fields
+in the direction of the church, finally climbing another stile and
+entering what he supposed to be the park. On this side the back of the
+church ran out into a broad meadow, where the larger portion of the
+ancient abbey had once stood. Goddard walked along close by the church
+walls. He knew from his observation on the previous afternoon that he
+could thus come out into the road in the vicinity of the cottage, unless
+his way through the park were interrupted by impassable wire fences. The
+ground was very heavy and he was sure not to meet anybody in the meadows
+in such weather.
+
+Suddenly he stopped and looked at a buttress that jutted out from the
+church and for the existence of which there seemed to be no ostensible
+reason. He examined it and found that it was not a buttress but
+apparently a half ruined chamber, which at some former period had been
+built upon the side of the abbey. Low down by the ground there was a
+hole, where a few stones seemed to have been removed and not replaced.
+Goddard knelt down in the long wet grass and put in his head; then he
+crept in on his hands and knees and presently disappeared.
+
+He found himself in a room about ten feet square, dimly lighted by a
+small window at the top, and surrounded by long horizontal niches. The
+floor, which was badly broken in some places, was of stone. Goddard
+examined the place carefully. It was evidently an old vault of the kind
+formerly built above ground for the lords of the manor; but the coffins,
+if there had ever been any, had been removed elsewhere. Goddard laughed
+to himself.
+
+"I might stay here for a year, if I could get anything to eat," he said
+to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+The squire had grown used to the position in which he found himself after
+Mary Goddard had told him her story. He continued his visits as formerly,
+and it could hardly be said that there was any change in his manner
+towards her; there was no need of any change, for even at the time when
+he contemplated making her his wife there had been nothing lover-like
+in his behaviour. He had been a friend and had treated her with all the
+respect due to a lonely lady who was his tenant, and even with a certain
+formality which had sometimes seemed unnecessary. But though there was no
+apparent alteration in his mode of talking, in his habit of bringing her
+flowers and books and of looking after the condition of the cottage, both
+she and he were perfectly conscious of the fact that they understood each
+other much better than before. They were united by the common bond of a
+common secret which very closely concerned one of them. Things were not
+as they had formerly been. Mrs. Goddard no longer felt that she had
+anything to hide; the squire knew that he no longer had anything to hope.
+If he had been a selfish man, if she had been a less sensible woman,
+their friendship might have ended then and there. But Mr. Juxon was not
+selfish, and Mary Goddard did not lack good sense. Having ascertained
+that in the ordinary course of events there was no possibility of ever
+marrying her, the squire did not at once give her over and go elsewhere;
+on the contrary he showed himself more desirous than ever of assisting
+her and amusing her. He was a patient man; his day might come yet, if
+Goddard died. It did not follow that if he could not marry Mrs. Goddard
+he must needs marry some one else; for it was not a wife that he sought,
+but the companionship of this particular woman as his wife. If he could
+not marry he could still enjoy at least a portion of that companionship,
+by visiting her daily and talking with her, and making himself a part of
+her life. He judged things very coldly and lost himself in no lofty
+flights of imagination. It was better that he should enjoy what fell in
+his way in at least seeing Mrs. Goddard and possessing her friendship,
+than that he should go out of his course in order to marry merely for the
+sake of marrying. He had seen so much of the active side of life that he
+was well prepared to revel in the peace which had fallen to his lot. He
+cared little whether he left an heir to the park; there were others of
+the name, and since the park had furnished matter for litigation during
+forty years before he came into possession of it, it might supply the
+lawyers with fees for forty years more after his death, for all he cared.
+It would have been very desirable to marry Mrs. Goddard if it had been
+possible, but since the thing could not be done at present it was best to
+submit with a good grace. Since the day when his suit had suddenly come
+to grief in the discovery of her real position, Mr. Juxon had
+philosophically said to himself that he had perhaps been premature in
+making his proposal, and that it was as well that it could not have been
+accepted; perhaps she would not have made him a good wife; perhaps he had
+deceived himself in thinking that because he liked her and desired her
+friendship he really wished to marry her; perhaps all was for the best in
+the best of all possible worlds, after all and in spite of all.
+
+But these reflections, which tended to soothe the squire's annoyance at
+the failure of a scheme which he had contemplated with so much delight,
+did not prevent him from feeling the most sincere sympathy for Mrs.
+Goddard, nor from constantly wishing that he could devise some plan for
+helping her. She seemed never to have thought of divorcing herself from
+her husband. The squire was not sure whether such a thing were possible;
+he doubted it, and promised himself that he would get a lawyer's opinion
+upon the matter. He believed that English law did not grant divorces on
+account of the husband's being sentenced to any limited period of penal
+servitude. But in any case it would be a very delicate subject to
+approach, and Mr. Juxon amused himself by constructing conversations in
+his mind which should lead up to this point without wounding poor Mrs.
+Goddard's sensibilities. He was the kindest of men; he would not for
+worlds have said a word which should recall to her that memorable day
+when she had told him her story. And yet it would be quite impossible to
+broach such a scheme without going at once into all the details of the
+chief cause of her sorrows. The consequence was that in the windings of
+his imagination the squire found himself perpetually turning in a vicious
+circle; but since the exercise concerned Mrs. Goddard and her welfare it
+was not uncongenial. He founded all his vague hopes upon one expression
+she had used. When in making his proposal he had spoken of her as being a
+widow, she had said, "Would to God that I were!" She had said it with
+such vehemence that he had felt sure that if she had indeed been a widow
+her answer to himself would have been favourable. Men easily retain such
+impressions received in moments of great excitement, and found hopes upon
+them.
+
+So the days had gone by and the squire had thought much but had come to
+no conclusion. On the morning when Walter Goddard crept into the disused
+vault at the back of the church, the squire awoke from his sleep at his
+usual early hour. He was not in a very good humour, if so equable a man
+could be said to be subject to such weaknesses as humours. The weather
+was very depressing--day after day brought only more rain, more wind,
+more mud, more of everything disagreeable. The previous evening had been
+unusually dull. He was never weary of being with Mary Goddard, but
+occasionally, when the Ambroses were present, the conversation became
+oppressive. Mr. Juxon almost wished that John Short would come back and
+cause a diversion. His views concerning John had undergone some change
+since he had discovered that nobody could marry Mrs. Goddard because she
+was married already. He believed he could watch John's efforts to attract
+her attention with indifference now, or if without indifference with a
+charitable forbearance. John at least would help to make conversation,
+and the conversation on the previous evening had been intolerably
+wearisome. Almost unconsciously, since the chief interest and hope of his
+daily life had been removed the squire began to long for a change; he
+had been a wanderer by profession during thirty years of his life and he
+was perhaps not yet old enough to settle into that absolute indifference
+to novelty which seems to characterise retired sailors.
+
+But as he brushed his smooth hair and combed his beard that morning,
+neither change nor excitement were very far from him. He looked over his
+dressing-glass at the leafless oaks of the park, at the grey sky and the
+driving rain and he wished something would happen. He wished somebody
+might die and leave a great library to be sold, that he might indulge
+his favourite passion; he wished he had somebody stopping in the Hall--he
+almost decided to send and ask the vicar to come to lunch and have a day
+among the books. As he entered the breakfast-room at precisely half-past
+eight o'clock, according to his wont, the butler informed him that Mr.
+Gall, the village constable, was below and wanted to see him after
+breakfast. He received the news in silence and sat down to eat his
+breakfast and read the morning paper. Gall had probably come about some
+petty summons, or to ask what he should do about the small boys who threw
+stones at the rooks and broke the church windows. After finishing his
+meal and his paper in the leisurely manner peculiar to country gentlemen
+who have nothing to do, the squire rang the bell, sent for the policeman
+and went into his study, a small room adjoining the library.
+
+Thomas Gall, constable, was a tall fair man with a mild eye and a
+cheerful face. Goodwill towards men and plentiful good living had done
+their work in eradicating from the good man all that stern element which
+might have been most useful to him in his career, not to say useful to
+the State. Each rolling year was pricked in his leathern belt with a new
+hole as his heart grew more peaceful and his body throve. He had a goodly
+girth and weighed full fifteen stone in his uniform; his mild blue eye
+had inspired confidence in a maiden of Billingsfield parish and Mrs. Gall
+was now rearing a numerous family of little Galls, all perhaps destined
+to become mild-eyed and portly village constables in their turn.
+
+The squire, who was not destitute of a sense of humour, never thought of
+Mr. Gall without a smile, so much out of keeping did the man's occupation
+seem with his jovial humour. Mr. Gall, he said, was the kind of policeman
+who would bribe a refractory tramp to move on by the present of a pint of
+beer. But Gall had a good point. He was very proud of his profession, and
+in the exercise of it he showed a discretion which, if it was the better
+part of his valour, argued unlimited natural courage. It was a secret
+profession, he was wont to say, and a man who could not keep a secret
+would never do for a constable. He shrouded his ways in an amiable
+mystery and walked a solitary beat on fine nights; when the nights were
+not fine there was nobody to see whether he walked his beat or not.
+Probably, he faithfully fulfilled his obligations; but his constitution
+seemed to bear exposure to the weather wonderfully well. Whether he ever
+saw anything worth mentioning upon those lonely walks of his, is
+uncertain; at all events he never mentioned anything he saw, unless it
+was in the secrecy of the reports he was supposed to transmit from time
+to time to his superiors.
+
+On the present occasion as he entered the study, the squire observed with
+surprise that he looked grave. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon
+before and argued that it was just possible that something of real
+importance might have occurred.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Gall, approaching the squire respectfully,
+after carefully closing the door behind him.
+
+"Good morning, Gall. Nothing wrong, I hope?"
+
+"Not yet, sir. I hope not, sir. Only a little matter of business, Mr.
+Juxon. In point of fact, sir, I wished to consult you."
+
+"Yes," said the squire who was used to the constable's method of
+circumlocution. "Yes--what is it?"
+
+"Well, sir--it's this," said the policeman, running his thumb round the
+inside of his belt as though to test the pressure, and clearing his
+throat. "There has been a general order sent down to be on the lookout,
+sir. So I thought it would be best to take your opinion."
+
+"My opinion," said the squire with great gravity, "is that if you are
+directed to be on the look-out, you should be on the look-out; by all
+means. What are you to be on the look-out for?"
+
+"In point of fact, sir," said the constable, lowering his voice, "we are
+informed that a criminal has escaped from Portland. I never heard of a
+convict getting out of that strong'old o' the law, sir, and I would like
+to have your opinion upon it."
+
+"But if you are informed that some one has escaped," remarked the squire,
+"you had better take it for granted that it is true."
+
+"Juss so, sir. But the circumstances wasn't communicated to us, sir; so
+we don't know."
+
+Mr. Gall paused, and the squire smoothed his hair a little.
+
+"Well, Gall," said Mr. Juxon, "have you any reason for believing that
+this escaped convict is likely to come this way?"
+
+"Well sir, there is some evidence," answered the policeman, mysteriously.
+"Leastways what seems like evidence to me, sir."
+
+"Of what kind?" the squire fixed his quiet eyes on Mr. Gall's face.
+
+"His name, sir. The name of the convict. There is a party of that name
+residin' here."
+
+The squire suddenly guessed what was coming, or at least a possibility of
+it crossed his mind. If Mr. Gall had been a more observant man he would
+have seen that Mr. Juxon grew a shade paler and changed one leg over the
+other as he sat. But in that moment he had time to nerve himself for the
+worst.
+
+"And what is the name, if you please?" he asked calmly.
+
+"The name in the general orders is Goddard, sir--Walter Goddard. He was
+convicted of forgery three years ago, sir, a regular bad lot. But
+discretion is recommended in the orders, sir, as the business is not
+wanted to get into the papers."
+
+The squire was ready. If Gall did not know that Mary Goddard was the wife
+of the convict Walter, he should certainly not find it out. In any other
+country of Europe that would have been the first fact communicated to the
+local police. Very likely, thought Mr. Juxon, nobody knew it.
+
+"I do not see," he said very slowly, "that the fact of there being a Mrs.
+Goddard residing here in the least proves that she is any relation to
+this criminal. The name is not so uncommon as that, you know."
+
+"Nor I either, sir. In point of fact, sir, I was only thinking. It's what
+you may call a striking coincidence, that's all."
+
+"It would have been a still more striking coincidence if his name had
+been Juxon like mine, or Ambrose like the vicar's," said the squire
+calmly. "There are other people of the name in England, and the local
+policemen will be warned to be on the lookout. If this fellow was called
+Juxon instead of Goddard, Gall, would you be inclined to think he was a
+relation of mine?"
+
+"Oh no, sir. Ha! ha! Very good sir! Very good indeed! No indeed, sir, and
+she such a real lady too!"
+
+"Well then, I do not see that you can do anything more than keep a sharp
+look-out. I suppose they sent you some kind of description?"
+
+"Well, yes. There was a kind of a description as you say, sir, but I'm
+not anyways sure of recognising the party by it. In point of fact, sir,
+the description says the convict is a fair man."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Neither particular tall, nor yet particular short, sir. Not a very big
+'un nor a very little 'un, sir. In point of fact, sir, a fair man. Clean
+shaved and close cropped he is, sir, being a criminal."
+
+"I hope you may recognise him by that account," said the squire,
+suppressing a smile. "I don't believe I should."
+
+"Well, sir, it does say as he's a fair man," remarked the constable.
+
+"Supposing he blacked his face and passed for a chimney-sweep?" suggested
+the squire. The idea seemed to unsettle Gall's views.
+
+"In that case, sir, I don't know as I should know him, for certain," he
+answered.
+
+"Probably not--probably not, Gall. And judging from the account they have
+sent you I don't think you would be to blame."
+
+"Leastways it can't be said as I've failed to carry out superior
+instructions," replied Mr. Gall, proudly. "Then it's your opinion, sir,
+that I'd better keep a sharp look-out? Did I understand you to say so,
+sir?"
+
+"Quite so," returned the squire with great calmness. "By all means keep a
+sharp look-out, and be careful to be discreet, as the orders instruct
+you."
+
+"You may trust me for that, sir," said the policeman, who dearly loved
+the idea of mysterious importance. "Then I wish you good morning, sir."
+He prepared to go.
+
+"Good morning, Gall--good morning. The butler will give you some ale."
+
+Again Mr. Gall passed his thumb round the inside of his belt, testing the
+local pressure in anticipation of a pint. He made a sort of half-military
+salute at the door and went out. When the squire was alone he rose from
+his chair and paced the room, giving way to the agitation he had
+concealed in the presence of the constable. He was very much disturbed at
+the news of Goddard's escape, as well he might be. Not that he was aware
+that the convict knew of his wife's whereabouts; he did not even suppose
+that Goddard could ascertain for some time where she was living, still
+less that he would boldly present himself in Billingsfield. But it was
+bad enough to know that the man was again at large. So long as he was
+safely lodged in prison, Mrs. Goddard was herself safe; but if once he
+regained his liberty and baffled the police he would certainly end by
+finding out Mary's address and there was no telling to what annoyance,
+to what danger, to what sufferings she might be exposed. Here was a new
+interest, indeed, and one which promised to afford the squire occupation
+until the fellow was caught.
+
+Mr. Juxon knew that he was right in putting the policeman off the track
+in regard to Mrs. Goddard. He himself was a better detective than Gall,
+for he went daily to the cottage and if anything was wrong there, was
+quite sure to discover it. If Goddard ever made his way to Billingsfield
+it could only be for the purpose of seeing his wife, and if he succeeded
+in this, Mrs. Goddard could not conceal it from the squire. She was a
+nervous woman who could not hide her emotions; she would find herself in
+a terrible difficulty and she would perhaps turn to her friend for
+assistance. If Mr. Juxon could lay his hands on Goddard, he flattered
+himself he was much more able to arrest a desperate man than mild-eyed
+Policeman Gall. He had not been at sea for thirty years in vain, and in
+his time he had handled many a rough customer. He debated however upon
+the course he should pursue. As in his opinion it was unlikely that
+Goddard would find out his wife for some time, and improbable that he
+would waste such precious time in looking for her, it seemed far from
+advisable to warn her that the felon had escaped. On the other hand he
+mistrusted his own judgment; if she were not prepared it was just
+possible that the man should come upon her unawares, and the shock of
+seeing him might be very much worse than the shock of being told that he
+was at large. He might consult the vicar.
+
+At first, the old feeling that it would be disloyal to Mrs. Goddard even
+to hint to Mr. Ambrose that he was acquainted with her story withheld him
+from pursuing such a course. But as he turned the matter over in his mind
+it seemed to him that since it was directly for her good, he would now be
+justified in speaking. He liked the vicar and he trusted him. He knew
+that the vicar had been a good friend to Mrs. Goddard and that he would
+stand by her in any difficulty so far as he might be able. The real
+question was how to make sure that the vicar should not tell his wife. If
+Mrs. Ambrose had the least suspicion that anything unusual was occurring,
+she would naturally try and extract information from her husband, and she
+would probably be successful; women, the squire thought, very generally
+succeed in operations of that kind. But if once Mr. Ambrose could be
+consulted without arousing his wife's suspicions, he was a man to be
+trusted. Thereupon Mr. Juxon wrote a note to the vicar, saying that he
+had something of great interest to show him, and begging that, if not
+otherwise engaged, he would come up to the Hall to lunch. When he had
+despatched his messenger, being a man of his word, he went into the
+library to hunt for some rare volume or manuscript which the vicar had
+not yet seen, and which might account in a spirit of rigid veracity for
+the excuse he had given. Meanwhile, as he turned over his rare and
+curious folios he debated further upon his conduct; but having once made
+up his mind to consult Mr. Ambrose, he determined to tell him boldly what
+had occurred, after receiving from him a promise of secrecy. The
+messenger brought back word that the vicar would be delighted to come,
+and at the hour named the sound of wheels upon the gravel announced the
+arrival of Strawberry, the old mare, drawing behind her the vicar and his
+aged henchman, Reynolds, in the traditional vicarage dogcart. A moment
+later the vicar entered the library.
+
+"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire inhospitable
+tones. "I have something to show you and I have something to say to you."
+The two shook hands heartily. Independently of kindred scholarly tastes,
+they were sympathetic to each other and were always glad to meet.
+
+"It is just the weather for bookworms," answered the vicar in cheerful
+tones. "Dear me, I never come here without envying you and wishing that
+life were one long rainy afternoon."
+
+"You know I am inclined to think I am rather an enviable person," said
+Mr. Juxon, slowly passing his hand over his glossy hair and leading his
+guest towards a large table near the fire. Several volumes lay together
+upon the polished mahogany. The squire laid his hand on one of them.
+
+"I have not deceived you," he said. "That is a very interesting volume.
+It is the black letter Paracelsus I once spoke of. I have succeeded in
+getting it at last."
+
+"Dear me! What a piece of fortune!" said Mr. Ambrose bending down until
+his formidable nose almost touched the ancient page.
+
+"Yes," said the squire, "uncommonly lucky as usual. Now, excuse my
+abruptness in changing the subject--I want to consult you upon an
+important matter."
+
+The vicar looked up quickly with that vague, faraway expression which
+comes into the eyes of a student when he is suddenly called away from
+contemplating some object of absorbing interest.
+
+"Certainly," he said, "certainly--a--by all means."
+
+"It is about Mrs. Goddard," said the squire, looking hard at his visitor.
+"Of course it is between ourselves," he added.
+
+The vicar's long upper lip descended upon its fellow and he bent his
+rough grey eyebrows, returning Mr. Juxon's sharp look with interest. He
+could not imagine what the squire could have to say about Mrs. Goddard,
+unless, like poor John, he had fallen in love with her and wanted to
+marry her; which appeared improbable.
+
+"What is it?" he said sharply.
+
+"I daresay you do not know that I am acquainted with her story," began
+Mr. Juxon. "Do not be surprised. She saw fit to tell it me herself."
+
+"Indeed?" exclaimed the vicar in considerable astonishment. In that case,
+he argued quickly, Mr. Juxon was not thinking of marrying her.
+
+"Yes--it is not necessary to go into that," said Mr. Juxon quickly. "The
+thing I want to tell you is this--Goddard the forger has escaped--"
+
+"Escaped?" echoed the vicar in real alarm. "You don't mean to say so!"
+
+"Gall the constable came here this morning," continued Mr. Juxon. "He
+told me that there were general orders out for his arrest."
+
+"How in the world did he get out?" cried the vicar. "I thought nobody was
+ever known to escape from Portland!"
+
+"So did I. But this fellow has--somehow. Gall did not know. Now, the
+question is, what is to be done?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know," returned the vicar, thrusting his hands into
+his pockets and marching to the window, the wide skirts of his coat
+seeming to wave with agitation as he walked.
+
+Mr. Juxon also put his hands into his pockets, but he stood still upon
+the hearth-rug and looked at the ceiling, softly whistling a little tune,
+a habit he had in moments of great anxiety. For three or four minutes
+neither of the two spoke.
+
+"Would you tell Mrs. Goddard--or not?" asked Mr. Juxon at last.
+
+"I don't know," said the vicar. "I am amazed beyond measure." He turned
+and slowly came back to the table.
+
+"I don't know either," replied the squire. "That is precisely the point
+upon which I think we ought to decide. I have known about the story for
+some time, but I did not anticipate that it would take this turn."
+
+"I think," said Mr. Ambrose after another pause, "I think that if there
+is any likelihood of the fellow finding her out, we ought to tell her. If
+not I think we had better wait until he is caught. He is sure to be
+caught, of course."
+
+"I entirely agree with you," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only--how on earth are
+we to find out whether he is likely to come here or not? If any one knows
+where he is, he is as good as caught already. If nobody knows, we can
+certainly have no means of telling."
+
+The argument was unanswerable. Again there was a long silence. The vicar
+walked about the room in great perplexity.
+
+"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible business!" he repeated, over and over
+again.
+
+"Do you think we are called upon to do anything?" he asked at last,
+stopping in his walk immediately in front of Mr. Juxon.
+
+"If we can do anything to save Mrs. Goddard from annoyance or further
+trouble, we are undoubtedly called upon to do it," replied the squire.
+"If that wretch finds her out, he will try to break into the cottage at
+night and force her to give him money."
+
+"Do you really think so? Dear me! I hope he will do no such thing!"
+
+"So do I, I am sure," said Mr. Juxon, with a grim smile. "But if he finds
+her out, he will. I almost think it would be better to tell her in any
+case."
+
+"But think of the anxiety she will be in until he is caught!" cried the
+vicar. "She will be expecting him every day--every night. Well--I suppose
+we might tell Gall to watch the house."
+
+"That will not do," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be a great injustice
+to allow Gall or any of the people in the village to know anything about
+her. She might be subjected to all kinds of insult. You know what these
+people are. A 'real lady,' who is at the same time the wife of a convict,
+is a thing they can hardly understand. I am sure both you and I secretly
+flatter ourselves that we have shown an unusual amount of good sense and
+generosity in understanding her position as we do."
+
+"I daresay we do," said the vicar with a smile. He was too honest to deny
+it. "Indeed it took me some time to get used to the idea myself."
+
+"Precisely. The village people would never get used to it. Of all things
+to do, we should certainly not tell Gall, who is an old woman and a great
+chatterbox. I wish you could have heard his statement this morning--it
+filled me with admiration for the local police, I assure you. But--I
+think it would be better to tell her. I did not think so before you came,
+I believe. But talking always brings the truth out."
+
+The vicar hesitated, rising and falling upon his toes and heels in
+profound thought, after his manner.
+
+"I daresay you are right," he said at last. "Will you do it? Or shall I?"
+
+"I would rather not," said the squire, thoughtfully. "You know her
+better, you have known her much longer than I."
+
+"But she will ask me where I heard of it," objected the vicar. "I shall
+be obliged to say that you told me. That will be as bad as though you
+told her yourself."
+
+"You need not say you heard it from me. You can say that Gall has
+received instructions to look out for Goddard. She will not question you
+any further, I am sure."
+
+"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Juxon," said the vicar.
+
+"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire,
+almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little.
+
+"Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose.
+
+"Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter,
+you see."
+
+"Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!"
+
+"Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done."
+
+"Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that
+his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office.
+
+"Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have
+the matter decided.
+
+"Why not go together?" suggested the vicar.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the
+poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs.
+Ambrose--"
+
+"Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile.
+
+"Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did,
+and was very much surprised at the result.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the
+cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be
+of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they
+had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter
+Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare
+volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host
+believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting
+to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either.
+
+The weather had suddenly changed; the east was already clear and over the
+west, where the sun was setting in a fiery mist, the huge clouds were
+banked up against the bright sky, fringed with red and purple, but no
+longer threatening rain or snow. The air was sharp and the plentiful mud
+in the roads was already crusted with a brittle casing of ice.
+
+The squire took leave of Mr. Ambrose at the turning where the road led
+into the village and then walked back to the cottage. Even his solid
+nerves were a little unsettled at the prospect of the interview
+before him; but he kept a stout heart and asked for Mrs. Goddard in his
+usual quiet voice. Martha told him that Mrs. Goddard had a bad headache,
+but on inquiry found that she would see the squire. He entered the
+drawing-room softly and went forward to greet her; she was sitting in a
+deep chair propped by cushions.
+
+Mary Goddard had spent a miserable day. The grey morning light seemed to
+reveal her troubles and fears in a new and more terrible aspect. During
+the long hours of darkness it seemed as though those things were
+mercifully hidden which the strong glare of day must inevitably reveal,
+and when the night was fairly past she thought all the world must surely
+know that Walter Goddard had escaped and that his wife had seen him.
+Hourly she expected a ringing at the bell, announcing the visit of a
+party of detectives on his track; every sound startled her and her nerves
+were strung to such a pitch that she heard with supernatural acuteness.
+She had indeed two separate causes for fear. The one was due to her
+anxiety for Goddard's safety; the other to her apprehensions for Nellie.
+She had long determined that at all hazards the child must be kept from
+the knowledge of her father's disgrace, by being made to believe in his
+death. It was a falsehood indeed, but such a falsehood as may surely be
+forgiven to a woman as unhappy as Mary Goddard. It seemed monstrous that
+the innocent child, who seemed not even to have inherited her father's
+looks or temper, should be brought up with the perpetual sense of her
+disgrace before her, should be forced to listen to explanations of her
+father's crimes and tutored to the comprehension of an inherited shame.
+From the first Mary Goddard had concealed the whole matter from the
+little girl, and when Walter was at last convicted, she had told her that
+her father was dead. Dead he might be, she thought, before twelve years
+were out, and Nellie would be none the wiser. In twelve years from the
+time of his conviction Nellie would be in her twenty-first year; if it
+were ever necessary to tell her, it would be time enough then, for the
+girl would have at least enjoyed her youth, free of care and of the
+horrible consciousness of a great crime hanging over her head. No child
+could grow up in such a state as that implied. No mind could develop
+healthily under the perpetual pressure of so hideous a secret; from her
+earliest childhood her impressions would be warped, her imagination
+darkened and her mental growth stunted. It would be a great cruelty to
+tell her the truth; it was a great mercy to tell her the falsehood. It
+was no selfish timidity which had prompted Mary Goddard, but a carefully
+weighed consideration for the welfare of her child.
+
+If now, within these twenty-four hours, Nellie should discover who the
+poor tramp was, who had frightened her so much on the previous evening,
+all this would be at an end. The child's life would be made desolate for
+ever. She would never recover from the shock, and to injure lovely Nellie
+so bitterly would be worse to Mary Goddard than to be obliged to bear the
+sharpest suffering herself. For, from the day when she had waked to a
+comprehension of her husband's baseness, the love for her child had taken
+in her breast the place of the love for Walter.
+
+She did not think connectedly; she did not realise her fears; she was
+almost wholly unstrung. But she had procured the fifty pounds her husband
+required and she waited for the night with a dull hope that all might yet
+be well--as well as anything so horrible could be. If only her husband
+were not caught in Billingsfield it would not be so bad, perhaps. And yet
+it may be that her wisest course would have been to betray him that very
+night. Many just men would have said so; but there are few women who
+would do it. There are few indeed, so stonyhearted as to betray a man
+once loved in such a case; and Mary Goddard in her wildest fear never
+dreamed of giving up the fugitive. She sat all day in her chair, wishing
+that the day were over, praying that she might be spared any further
+suffering or that at least it might be spared to her child whom she so
+loved. She had sent Nellie down to the vicarage with Martha. Mrs. Ambrose
+loved Nellie better than she loved Nellie's mother, and there was a
+standing invitation for her to spend the afternoons at the vicarage.
+Nellie said her mother had a terrible headache and wanted to be alone.
+
+But when the squire came Mrs. Goddard thought it wiser to see him. She
+had, of course, no intention of confiding to him an account of the events
+of the previous night, but she felt that if she could talk to him for
+half an hour she would be stronger. He was himself so strong and honest
+that he inspired her with courage. She knew, also, that if she were
+driven to the extremity of confiding in any one she would choose Mr.
+Juxon rather than Mr. Ambrose. The vicar had been her first friend and
+she owed him much; but the squire had won her confidence by his noble
+generosity after she had told him her story. She said to herself that he
+was more of a man than the vicar. And now he had come to her at the time
+of her greatest distress, and she was glad to see him.
+
+Mr. Juxon entered the room softly, feeling that he was in the presence of
+a sick person. Mrs. Goddard turned her pathetic face towards him and held
+out her hand.
+
+"I am so glad to see you," she said, trying to seem cheerful.
+
+"I fear you are ill, Mrs. Goddard," answered the squire, looking at her
+anxiously and then seating himself by her side. "Martha told me you had a
+headache--I hope it is not serious."
+
+"Oh no--not serious. Only a headache," she said with a smile so unlike
+her own that Mr. Juxon began to feel nervous. His resolution to tell her
+his errand began to waver; it seemed cruel, he thought, to disturb a
+person who was evidently so ill with a matter so serious. He remembered
+that she had almost fainted on a previous occasion when she had spoken to
+him of her husband. She had not been ill then; there was no knowing what
+the effect of a shock to her nerves might be at present. He sat still in
+silence for some moments, twisting his hat upon his knee.
+
+"Do not be disturbed about me," said Mrs. Goddard presently. "It will
+pass very quickly. I shall be quite well to-morrow--I hope," she added
+with a shudder.
+
+"I am very much disturbed about you," returned Mr. Juxon in an unusually
+grave tone. Mrs. Goddard looked at him quickly, and was surprised when
+she saw the expression on his face. He looked sad, and at the same time
+perplexed.
+
+"Oh, pray don't be!" she exclaimed as though deprecating further remark
+upon her ill health.
+
+"I wish I knew," said the squire with some hesitation, "whether--whether
+you are really very ill. I mean, of course, I know you have a bad
+headache, a very bad headache, as I can see. But--indeed, Mrs. Goddard, I
+have something of importance to say."
+
+"Something of importance?" she repeated, staring hard at him.
+
+"Yes--but it will keep till to-morrow, if you would rather not hear it
+now," he replied, looking at her doubtfully.
+
+"I would rather hear it now," she answered after some seconds of silence.
+Her heart beat fast.
+
+"You were good enough some time ago to tell me about--Mr. Goddard," began
+Mr. Juxon in woeful trepidation.
+
+"Yes," answered his companion under her breath. Her hands were clasped
+tightly together upon her knees and her eyes sought the squire's
+anxiously and then looked away again in fear.
+
+"Well, it is about him," continued Mr. Juxon in a gentle voice. "Would
+you rather put it off? It is--well, rather startling."
+
+Mrs. Goddard closed her eyes, like a person expecting to suffer some
+terrible pain. She thought Mr. Juxon was going to tell her that Walter
+had been captured in the village.
+
+"Mr. Goddard has escaped," said the squire, making a bold plunge with the
+whole truth. The sick lady trembled violently, and unclasping her hands
+laid them upon the arms of her chair as though to steady herself to bear
+the worse shock to come. But Mr. Juxon was silent. He had told her all he
+knew.
+
+"Yes," she said faintly. "Is there anything--anything more?" Her voice
+was barely audible in the still and dusky room.
+
+"No--except that, of course, there are orders out for his arrest, all
+over the country."
+
+"He has not been arrested yet?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She had expected to
+hear that he was caught; she thought the squire was trying to break the
+shock of the news. Her courage rose a little now.
+
+"No, he is not arrested--but I have no doubt he soon will be," added Mr.
+Juxon in a tone intended to convey encouragement.
+
+"How did you hear this?"
+
+"Gall the policeman, told me this morning. I--I am afraid I have
+something else to confess to you, Mrs. Goddard, I trust you will not--"
+
+"What?" she asked so suddenly as to startle him. Walter might have been
+heard of in the neighbourhood, perhaps.
+
+"I think I was right," continued Mr. Juxon. "I hope you will forgive me.
+It does not seem quite loyal, but I did not know what to do. I consulted
+the vicar as to whether we should tell you."
+
+"The vicar? What did he say?" Again Mrs. Goddard felt relieved.
+
+"He quite agreed with me," answered the squire. "You see we feared that
+Mr. Goddard might find his way here and come upon you suddenly. We
+thought you would be terribly pained and startled."
+
+Mrs. Goddard could almost have laughed at that moment. The excellent man
+had taken all this trouble in order to save her from the very thing which
+had already occurred on the previous night. There was a bitter humour in
+the situation, in the squire's kind-hearted way of breaking to her that
+news which she already knew so well, in his willingness to put off
+telling her until the morrow. What would Mr. Juxon say, could he guess
+that she had herself already spoken with her husband and had promised to
+see him again that very night! Forgetting that his last words required an
+answer, she leaned back in her chair and again folded her hands before
+her. Her eyes were half closed and from beneath the drooping lids she
+gazed through the gathering gloom at the squire's anxious face.
+
+"I hope you think I did right," said the latter in considerable doubt.
+
+"Quite right. I think you were both very kind to think of me as you did,"
+said she.
+
+"I am sure, I always think of you," answered Mr. Juxon simply. "I hope
+that this thing will have no further consequences. Of course, until we
+know of Mr. Goddard's whereabouts we shall feel very anxious. It seems
+probable that if he can get here unobserved he will do so. He will
+probably ask you for some money."
+
+"Do you really think he could get here at all?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She
+wanted to hear what he would say, for she thought she might judge from
+his words whether her husband ran any great risk.
+
+"Oh no," replied the squire. "I think it is very improbable. I fear this
+news has sadly disturbed you, Mrs. Goddard, but let us hope all may turn
+out for the best." Indeed he thought she showed very little surprise,
+though she had evidently been much moved. Perhaps she had been accustomed
+to expect that her husband might one day escape. She was ill, too, and
+her nerves were unstrung, he supposed.
+
+She had really passed through a very violent emotion, but it had not been
+caused by her surprise, but by her momentary fear for the fugitive,
+instantly allayed by Mr. Juxon's explanation. She felt that for to-day at
+least Walter was safe, and by to-morrow he would be safe out of the
+neighbourhood. But she reflected that it was necessary to say something;
+that if she appeared to receive the news too indifferently the squire's
+suspicions might be aroused with fatal results.
+
+"It is a terrible thing," she said presently. "You see I am not at all
+myself."
+
+It was not easy for her to act a part. The words were commonplace.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon, "I see you are not." He on his part, instead of
+looking for a stronger expression of fear or astonishment, was now only
+too glad that she should be so calm.
+
+"Would you advise me to do anything?" she asked presently.
+
+"There is nothing to be done," he answered quickly, glad of a chance to
+relieve the embarrassment of the situation. "Of course we might put you
+under the protection of the police but--what is the matter, Mrs.
+Goddard?" She had started as though in pain.
+
+"Only this dreadful headache," she said. "Go on please."
+
+"Well, we might set Gall the policeman to watch your house; but that
+would be very unpleasant for you. It would be like telling him and all
+the village people of your situation--"
+
+"Oh don't! Please don't!"
+
+"No, certainly not. I think it very unwise. Besides--" he stopped short.
+He was about to say that he felt much better able to watch over Mrs.
+Goddard himself than Gall the constable could possibly be; but he checked
+himself in time.
+
+"Besides--what?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing--Gall is not much of a policeman, that is all. I do not believe
+you would be any the safer for his protection. But you must promise me,
+my dear Mrs. Goddard, that if anything occurs you will let me know. I may
+be of some assistance."
+
+"Thank you, so much," said she. "You are always so kind!"
+
+"Not at all. I am very glad if you think I was right to tell you about
+it."
+
+"Oh, quite right," she answered. "And now, Mr. Juxon, I am really not at
+all well. All this has quite unnerved me--"
+
+"You want me to go?" said the squire smiling kindly as he rose. "Yes, I
+understand. Well, good-bye, my dear friend--I hope everything will
+clear up."
+
+"Good-bye. Thank you again. You always do understand me," she answered
+giving him her small cold hand. "Don't think me ungrateful," she added,
+looking up into his eyes.
+
+"No indeed--not that there is anything to be grateful for."
+
+In a moment more he was gone, feeling that he had done his duty like a
+man, and that it had not been so hard after all. He was glad it was done,
+however, and he felt that he could face the vicar with a bold front at
+their next meeting. He went quickly down the path and crossed the road to
+his own gate with a light step. As he entered the park he was not aware
+of a wretched-looking tramp who slouched along the quickset hedge and
+watched his retreating figure far up the avenue, till he was out of sight
+among the leafless trees. If Stamboul had been with the squire the tramp
+would certainly not have passed unnoticed; but for some days the roads
+had been so muddy that Stamboul had been left behind when Mr. Juxon made
+his visits to the cottage, lest the great hound should track the mud into
+the spotless precincts of the passage. The tramp stood still and looked
+after the squire so long as he could see him, and then slunk off across
+the wet meadows, where the standing water was now skimmed with ice.
+
+Walter Goddard had spent the day in watching for the squire and he had
+seen him at last. He had seen him go down the road with the vicar till
+they were both out of sight, and he had seen him come back and enter the
+cottage. This proceeding, he argued, betrayed that the squire did not
+wish to be seen going into Mary's house by the vicar. The tortuous
+intelligences of bad men easily impute to others courses which they
+themselves would naturally pursue. Three words on the previous evening
+had sufficed to rouse the convict's jealousy. What he saw to-day
+confirmed his suspicions. The gentleman in knickerbockers could be no
+other than the squire himself, of course. He was evidently in the habit
+of visiting Mary Goddard and he did not wish his visits to be observed by
+the clergyman, who was of course the vicar or rector of the parish. That
+proved conclusively in the fugitive's mind that there was something
+wrong. He ground his teeth together and said to himself that it would be
+worth while to run some risk in order to stop that little game, as he
+expressed it. He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered
+one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he
+had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be
+caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex. It would be a great
+satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther.
+Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at
+the back of the church. He discovered loose stones inside the place which
+he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance.
+Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very
+existence of the vault was most likely forgotten. It was not a cheerful
+place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach
+of supernatural fears. Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the
+future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present. The vault
+was comparatively dry and was in every way preferable, as a resting-place
+for one night, to the interior of a mouldy haystack in the open fields.
+He did not dare show himself again at the "Feathers" inn, lest he should
+be held to do the day's work he had promised in payment for his night in
+the barn. All that morning and afternoon he had lain hidden in the
+quickset hedge near the park gate, within sight of the cottage, and he
+had been rewarded. The food he had taken with him the night before had
+sufficed him and he had quenched his thirst with rain-water from the
+ditch. Having seen that the squire went back towards the Hall, Goddard
+slunk away to his hiding-place to wait for the night. He lay down as best
+he might, and listened for the hours and half-hours as the church clock
+tolled them out from the lofty tower above.
+
+Mary Goddard had told him to come later than before, and it was after
+half-past ten when he tapped upon the shutter of the little drawing-room.
+All was dark within, and he held his breath as he stood among the wet
+creepers, listening intently for the sound of his wife's coming.
+Presently the glass window inside was opened.
+
+"Is that you?" asked Mary's voice in a tremulous whisper.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "Let me in." Then the shutter was cautiously
+unfastened and opened a little and in the dim starlight Goddard
+recognised his wife's pale face. Her hand went out to him, with something
+in it.
+
+"There is the money," she whispered. "Go as quickly as you can. They are
+looking for you--there are orders out to arrest you."
+
+Goddard seized her fingers and took the money. She would have withdrawn
+her hand but he held it firmly.
+
+"Who told you that they were after me?" he asked in a fierce whisper.
+
+"Mr. Juxon--let me go."
+
+"Mr. Juxon!" The convict uttered a rough oath. "Your friend Mr. Juxon,
+eh? He is after me, is he? Tell him--"
+
+"Hush, hush!" she whispered. "He has no idea you are here--"
+
+"I should think not," muttered Walter. "He would not be sneaking in here
+on the sly to see you if he knew I were about!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Mary. "Oh, Walter, let me go--you hurt me so!"
+He held her fingers as in a vice.
+
+"Hurt you! I wish I could strangle you and him too! Ha, you thought I was
+not looking this afternoon when he came! He went to the corner of the
+road with the parson, and when the parson was out of sight he came back!
+I saw you!"
+
+"You saw nothing!" answered his wife desperately. "How can you say so! If
+you knew how kind he has been, what a loyal gentleman he is, you would
+not dare to say such things."
+
+"You used to say I was a loyal gentleman, Mary," retorted the convict. "I
+daresay he is of the same stamp as I. Look here, Mary, if I catch this
+loyal gentleman coming here any more I will cut his throat--so look out!"
+
+"You do not mean to say you are going to remain here any longer, in
+danger of your life?" said Mary in great alarm.
+
+"Well--a man can only hang once. Give me some more of that bread and
+cheese, Mary. It was exceedingly good."
+
+"Then let me go," said his wife, trembling with horror at the threat she
+had just heard.
+
+"Oh yes. I will let you go. But I will just hold the window open in case
+you don't come back soon enough. Look sharp!"
+
+There was no need to hurry the unfortunate woman. In less than three
+minutes she returned, bringing a "quartern" loaf and a large piece of
+cheese. She thrust them out upon the window-sill and withdrew her hand
+before he could catch it. But he held the window open.
+
+"Now go!" she said. "I cannot do more for you--for God's sake go!"
+
+"You seem very anxious to see the last of me," he whispered. "I daresay
+if I am hanged you will get a ticket to see me turned off. Yes--we
+mention those things rather freely up in town. Don't be alarmed. I will
+come back to-morrow night--you had better listen. If you had shown a
+little more heart, I would have been satisfied, but you are so stony that
+I think I would like another fifty pounds to-morrow night. Those notes
+are so deliciously crisp--"
+
+"Listen, Walter!" said Mary. "Unless you promise to go I will raise an
+alarm at once. I can face shame again well enough. I will have you--hush!
+For God's sake--hush! There is somebody coming!"
+
+The convict's quick ear had caught the sound. Instantly he knelt and then
+lay down at full length upon the ground below the window. It was a fine
+night and the conscientious Mr. Gall was walking his beat. The steady
+tramp of his heavy shoes had something ominous in it which struck terror
+into the heart of the wretched fugitive. With measured tread he came from
+the direction of the village. Reaching the cottage he paused and dimly in
+the starlight Mrs. Goddard could distinguish his glazed hat--the
+provincial constabulary still wore hats in those days. Mr. Gall stood not
+fifteen yards from the cottage, failed to observe that a window was
+open on the lower floor, nodded to himself as though satisfied with his
+inspection and walked on. Little by little the sound of his steps grew
+fainter in the distance. Walter slowly raised himself again from the
+ground, and put his head in at the window.
+
+"You see it would not be hard to have you caught," whispered his wife,
+still breathless with the passing excitement. "That was the policeman. If
+I had called him, it would have been all over with you. I tell you if you
+try to come again I will give you up."
+
+"Oh, that's the way you treat me, is it?" said the convict with another
+oath. "Then you had better look out for your dear Mr. Juxon, that's all."
+
+Without another word, Goddard glided away from the window, let himself
+out by the wicket gate and disappeared across the road.
+
+Mary Goddard was in that moment less horrified by her husband's threat
+than by his base ingratitude to herself and by the accusation he seemed
+to make against her. Worn out with the emotions of fear and anxiety, she
+had barely the strength to close and fasten the window. Then she sank
+into the first chair she could find in the dark and stared into the
+blackness around her. It seemed indeed more than she could bear. She was
+placed in the terrible position of being obliged to betray her fugitive
+husband, or of living in constant fear lest he should murder the best
+friend she had in the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+On the morning after the events last described Mr. Ambrose sat at
+breakfast opposite his wife. The early post had just arrived, bringing
+the usual newspaper and two letters.
+
+"Any news, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with great suavity, as she
+rinsed her teacup in the bowl preparatory to repeating the dose. "Is not
+it time that we should hear from John?"
+
+"There is a letter from him, strange to say. Wait a minute--my dear, the
+Tripos is over and he wants to know if he may stop here--"
+
+"The Tripos over already! How has he done? Do tell me, Augustin!"
+
+"He does not know," returned the vicar, quickly looking over the
+contents of the letter. "The lists are not out--he thinks he has done
+very well--he has had a hint that he is high up--wants to know whether he
+may stop on his way to London--he is going to see his father--"
+
+"Of course he shall come," said Mrs. Ambrose with enthusiasm. "He must
+stop here till the lists are published and then we shall know--anything
+else?"
+
+"The other is a note from a tutor of his side--my old friend Brown--he is
+very enthusiastic; says it is an open secret that John will be at the
+head of the list--begins to congratulate. Well, my dear, this is very
+satisfactory, very flattering."
+
+"One might say very delightful, Augustin."
+
+"Delightful, yes quite delightful," replied the vicar, burying his long
+nose in his teacup.
+
+"I only hope it may be true. I was afraid that perhaps John had done
+himself harm by coming here at Christmas. Young men are so very
+light-headed, are they not, Augustin?" added Mrs. Ambrose with a prim
+smile. On rare occasions she had alluded to John's unfortunate passion
+for Mrs. Goddard, and when she spoke of the subject she had a tendency to
+assume something of the stiffness she affected towards strangers. As has
+been seen she had ceased to blame Mrs. Goddard. Generally speaking the
+absent are in the wrong in such matters; she could not refer to John's
+conduct without a touch of severity. But the Reverend Augustin bent his
+shaggy brows; John was now successful, probably senior classic--it was
+evidently no time to censure his behaviour.
+
+"You must be charitable, my dear," he said, looking sharply at his wife.
+"We have all been young once you know."
+
+"Augustin, I am surprised at you!" said Mrs. Ambrose sternly.
+
+"For saying that I once was young?" inquired her husband. "Strange and
+paradoxical as such a statement must appear, I was once a baby."
+
+"I think your merriment very unseemly," objected Mrs. Ambrose in a tone
+of censure. "Because you were once a baby it does not follow that you
+ever acted in such a very foolish way about a--"
+
+"My dear," interrupted the vicar, handing his cup across the table, "I
+wish you would leave John alone, and give me another cup of tea. John
+will be here to-morrow. Let us receive him as we should. He has done us
+credit."
+
+"He will never be received otherwise in this house, Augustin," replied
+Mrs. Ambrose, "whether you allow me to speak my mind or not. I am aware
+that Short has done us credit, as you express it. I only hope he always
+may do us credit in the future. I am sure, I was like a mother to him. He
+ought never to forget it. Why, my dear, cannot you remember how I always
+had his buttons looked to and gave him globules when he wanted them? I
+think he might show some gratitude."
+
+"I do not think he has failed to show it," retorted the vicar.
+
+"Oh, well, Augustin, if you are going to talk like that it is not
+possible to argue with you; but he shall be welcome, if he comes. I hope,
+however, that he will not go to the cottage--"
+
+"My dear, I have a funeral this morning. I wish you would not disturb my
+mind with these trifles."
+
+"Trifles! Who is dead? You did not tell me."
+
+"Poor Judd's baby, of course. We have spoken of it often enough, I am
+sure."
+
+"Oh yes, of course. Poor Tom Judd!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambrose with genuine
+sympathy. "It seems to me you are always burying his babies, Augustin!
+It is very sad."
+
+"Not always, my dear. Frequently," said the vicar correcting her. "It is
+very sad, as you say. Very sad. You took so much trouble to help them
+this time, too."
+
+"Trouble!" Mrs. Ambrose cast up her eyes. "You don't know how much
+trouble. But I am quite sure it was the fault of that brazen-faced
+doctor. I cannot bear the sight of him! That comes of answering
+advertisements in the newspapers."
+
+The present doctor had bought the practice abandoned by Mrs. Ambrose's
+son-in-law. He had paid well for it, but his religious principles had not
+formed a part of the bargain.
+
+"It is of no use to cry over spilt milk, my dear."
+
+"I do not mean to. No, I never do. But it is very unpleasant to have such
+people about. I really hope Tom Judd will not lose his next baby. When
+is John coming?"
+
+"To-morrow. My dear, if I forget it this morning, will you remember to
+speak to Reynolds about the calf?"
+
+"Certainly, Augustin," said his wife. Therewith the good vicar left her
+and went to bury Tom Judd's baby, divided in his mind between rejoicing
+over his favourite pupil's success and lamenting, as he sincerely did,
+the misfortunes which befell his parishioners. When he left the
+churchyard an hour later he was met by Martha, who came from the cottage
+with a message begging that the vicar would come to Mrs. Goddard as soon
+as possible. Martha believed her mistress was ill, she wanted to see Mr.
+Ambrose at once. Without returning to the vicarage he turned to the left
+towards the cottage.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had slept that night, being exhausted and almost broken down
+with fatigue. But she woke only to a sense of the utmost pain and
+distress, realising that to-day's anxiety was harder to bear than
+yesterday's, and that to-morrow might bring forth even worse disasters
+than those which had gone before. Her position was one of extreme doubt
+and peril. To tell any one that her husband was in the neighbourhood
+seemed to be equivalent to rooting out the very last remnant of
+consideration for him which remained in her heart, the very last trace of
+what had once been the chief joy and delight of her life. She hesitated
+long. There is perhaps nothing in human nature more enduring than the
+love of man and wife; or perhaps one should rather say than the love of a
+woman for her husband. There appear to be some men capable of being so
+completely estranged from their wives that there positively does not
+remain in them even the faintest recollection of what they have once
+felt, nor the possibility of feeling the least pity for what the women
+they once loved so well may suffer. There is no woman, I believe, who
+having once loved her husband truly, could see him in pain or distress,
+or in danger of his life, without earnestly endeavouring to help him. A
+woman may cease to love her husband; in some cases she is right in
+forgetting her love, but it would be hard to find a case where, were he
+the worst criminal alive, had he deceived her a thousand times, she would
+not at least help him to escape from his pursuers or give him a crust to
+save him from starvation.
+
+Mary Goddard had done her best for the wretch who had claimed her
+assistance. She had fed him, provided him with money, refused to betray
+him. But if it were to be a question of giving him up to the law, or of
+allowing her best friend to be murdered by him, or even seriously
+injured, she felt that pity must be at an end. It would be doubtless a
+very horrible thing to give him up, and she had gathered from what he had
+said that if he were taken he would pay the last penalty of the law. It
+was so awful a thing that she groaned when she thought of it. But she
+remembered his ghastly face in the starlight and the threat he had hissed
+out against the squire; he was a desperate man, with blood already on his
+hands. It was more than likely that he would do the deed he had
+threatened to do. What could be easier than to watch the squire on one of
+those evenings when he went up the park alone, to fall upon him and take
+his life? Of late Mr. Juxon did not even take his dog with him. The
+savage bloodhound would be a good protector; but even when he took
+Stamboul with him by day, he never brought him at night. It was too long
+for the beast to wait, he used to say, from six to nine or half past; he
+was so savage that he did not care to leave him out of his sight; he
+brought mud into the cottage, or into the vicarage as the case might
+be--if Stamboul had been an ordinary dog it would have been different.
+Those Russian bloodhounds were not to be trifled with. But the squire
+must be warned of his danger before another night came on.
+
+It was a difficult question. Mrs. Goddard at first thought of telling him
+herself; but she shrank from the thought, for she was exhausted and
+overwrought. A few days ago she would have been brave enough to say
+anything if necessary, but now she had no longer the courage nor the
+strength. It seemed so hard to face the squire with such a warning; it
+seemed as though she were doing something which would make her seem
+ungrateful in his eyes, though she hardly knew why it seemed so. She
+turned more naturally to the vicar, to whom she had originally come in
+her first great distress; she had only once consulted him, but that one
+occasion seemed to establish a precedent in her mind, the precedent of a
+thing familiar. It would certainly be easier. After much thought and
+inward debate, she determined to send for Mr. Ambrose.
+
+The fatigue and anxiety she had undergone during the last two days had
+wrought great changes in her face. A girl of eighteen or twenty years may
+gain delicacy and even beauty from the physical effects of grief, but a
+woman over thirty years old gains neither. Mrs. Goddard's complexion,
+naturally pale, had taken a livid hue; her lips, which were never very
+red, were almost white; heavy purple shadows darkened her eyes; the two
+or three lines that were hardly noticeable, but which were the natural
+result of a sad expression in her face, had in two days become distinctly
+visible and had almost assumed the proportions of veritable wrinkles. Her
+features were drawn and pinched--she looked ten years older than she was.
+Nothing remained of her beauty but her soft waving brown hair and her
+deep, pathetic, violet eyes. Even her small hands seemed to have grown
+thin and looked unnaturally white and transparent.
+
+She was sitting in her favourite chair by the fire, when the vicar
+arrived. She had not been willing to seem ill, in spite of what Martha
+had said, and she had refused to put cushions in the chair. She was
+making an effort, and even a little sense of physical discomfort helped
+to make the effort seem easier. She was so much exhausted that she felt
+she must not for one moment relax the tension she imposed upon herself
+lest her whole remaining strength should suddenly collapse and leave her
+at the mercy of events. But Mr. Ambrose was startled when he saw her and
+feared that she was very ill.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Goddard," he said, "what is the matter? Are you ill? Has
+anything happened?"
+
+As he spoke he changed the form of his question, suddenly recollecting
+that Mr. Juxon had probably on the previous afternoon told her of her
+husband's escape, as he had meant to do. This might be the cause of her
+indisposition.
+
+"Yes," she said in a voice that did not sound like her own, "I have asked
+you to come because I am in great trouble--in desperate trouble."
+
+"Dear me," said the vicar, "I hope not!"
+
+"Not desperate? Perhaps not. Dear Mr. Ambrose, you have always been so
+kind to me--I am sure you can help me now." Her voice trembled.
+
+"Indeed I will do my best," said the vicar who judged from so unusual an
+outburst that there must be really something wrong. "If you could tell me
+what it is--" he suggested.
+
+"That is the hardest part of it," said the unhappy woman. She paused a
+moment as though to collect her strength. "You know," she began again,
+"that my husband has escaped?"
+
+"A terrible business!" exclaimed the good man, nodding, however, in
+affirmation to the question she asked.
+
+"I have seen him," said Mary Goddard very faintly, looking down at her
+thin hands. The vicar started in astonishment.
+
+"My dear friend--dear me! Dear, dear, how very painful!"
+
+"Indeed, you do not know what I have suffered. It is most dreadful, Mr.
+Ambrose. You cannot imagine what a struggle it was. I am quite worn out."
+
+She spoke with such evident pain that the vicar was moved. He felt that
+she had more to tell, but he had hardly recovered from his surprise.
+
+"But, you know," he said, "that was the whole object of warning you. We
+did not really believe that he would come here. We were so much afraid
+that he would startle you. Of course Mr. Juxon told you he consulted
+me--"
+
+"Of course," answered Mrs. Goddard. "It was too late. I had seen him the
+night before."
+
+"Why, that was the very night we were here!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, more
+and more amazed. Mrs. Goddard nodded. She seemed hardly able to speak.
+
+"He came and knocked at that window," she said, very faintly. "He came
+again last night."
+
+"Dear me--I will send for Gall at once; he will have no difficulty in
+arresting him--"
+
+"Oh please!" interrupted Mrs. Goddard in hysterical tones. "Please,
+please, dear Mr. Ambrose, don't!"
+
+The vicar was silent. He rose unceremoniously from his chair and walked
+to the window, as he generally did when in any great doubt. He realised
+at once and very vividly the awful position in which the poor lady was
+placed.
+
+"Pray do not think I am very bad," said she, almost sobbing with fear and
+emotion. "Of course it must seem dreadful to you that I should wish him
+to escape!"
+
+The vicar came slowly back and stood beside her leaning against the
+chimney-piece. It did not take him long to make up his mind. Kind-hearted
+people are generally impulsive.
+
+"I do not, my dear lady. I assure you I fully understand your position.
+The fact is, I was too much surprised and I am too anxious for your
+safety not to think immediately of securing that--ahem--that unfortunate
+man."
+
+"Oh, it is not my safety! It is not only my safety--"
+
+"I understand--yes--of course you are anxious about him. But it is
+doubtless not our business to aid the law in its course, provided we do
+not oppose it."
+
+"It is something else," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "Oh! how shall I tell
+you," she moaned turning her pale cheek to the back of the chair.
+
+The vicar looked at her and began to think it was perhaps some strange
+case of conscience with which he had to deal. He had very little
+experience of such things save in the rude form they take among the
+labouring classes. But he reflected that it was likely to be something of
+the kind; in such a case Mrs. Goddard would naturally enough have sent
+for him, more as her clergyman than as her friend. She looked like a
+person suffering from some great mental strain. He sat down beside her
+and took her passive hand. He was moved, and felt as though he might have
+been her father.
+
+"My dear," he said kindly, almost as though he were speaking to a child,
+"have you anything upon your mind, anything which distresses you? Do you
+wish to tell me? If so I will do my very best to help you."
+
+Mrs. Goddard's fingers pressed his hand a little, but her face was still
+turned away.
+
+"It is Mr. Juxon," she almost whispered. If she had been watching the
+vicar she would have noticed the strange air of perplexity which came
+over his face when he heard the squire's name.
+
+"Yes--Mr. Juxon," she moaned. Then the choked-down horror rose in her
+throat. "Walter means to murder him!" she almost screamed. "Oh, my God,
+my God, what shall I do!" she cried aloud clasping her hands suddenly
+over her face and rocking herself to and fro.
+
+The vicar was horror-struck; he could hardly believe his ears, and
+believing them his senses swam. In his wildest dreams--and the good man's
+dreams were rarely wild--he had never thought that such things could come
+near him. Being a very good man and, moreover, a wise man when he had
+plenty of time for reflection, he folded his hands quietly and bent his
+head, praying fervently for the poor tortured woman who moaned and tossed
+herself beside him. It was a terrible moment. Suddenly she controlled
+herself and grasping one of the arms of the chair looked round at her
+silent companion.
+
+"You must save him," she said in agonised tones, "you must save them
+both! Do not tell me you cannot--oh, do not tell me that!"
+
+It was a passionate and heart-broken appeal, such a one as few men would
+or could resist, coming as it did from a helpless and miserably unhappy
+woman. Whether the vicar was wise in giving the answer he did, it would
+be hard to say: but he was a man who honestly tried to do his best.
+
+"I will try, my dear lady," he said, making a great resolution. Mrs.
+Goddard took his hand and pressed it in both of hers, and the long
+restrained tears flowed fast and softly over her worn cheeks. For some
+moments neither spoke.
+
+"If you cannot save both--you must save--Mr. Juxon," she said at last,
+breathing the words rather than speaking them.
+
+The vicar knew or guessed what it must cost her to hint that her husband
+might be captured. He recognised that the only way in which he could
+contribute towards the escape of the convict was by not revealing his
+hiding-place, and he accordingly refrained from asking where he was
+concealed. He shuddered as he thought that Goddard might be lying hidden
+in the cottage itself, for all he could tell, but he was quite sure that
+he ought not to know it. So long as he did not know where the forger was,
+it was easy to hold his peace; but if once he knew, the vicar was not
+capable of denying the knowledge. He had never told a lie in his life.
+
+"I will try," he repeated; and growing calmer, he added, "You are
+quite sure this was not an empty threat, my dear friend? Was there any
+reason--a--I mean to say, had this unfortunate man ever known Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Oh no!" answered Mrs. Goddard, sinking back into her chair. "He never
+knew him." Her tears were still flowing but she no longer sobbed aloud;
+it had been a relief to her overwrought and sensitive temperament to give
+way to the fit of weeping. She actually felt better, though ten minutes
+earlier she would not have believed it possible.
+
+"Then--why?" asked Mr. Ambrose, hesitating.
+
+"My poor husband was a very jealous man," she answered. "I accidentally
+told him that the cottage belonged to Mr. Juxon and yesterday--do you
+remember? You walked on with Mr. Juxon beyond the turning, and then he
+came back to see me--to tell me of my husband's escape. Walter saw that
+and--and he thought, I suppose--that Mr. Juxon did not want you to see
+him coming here."
+
+"But Mr. Juxon had just promised me to go and see you," said the honest
+vicar.
+
+"Yes," said poor Mrs. Goddard, beginning to sob again, "but Walter--my
+husband--thinks that I--I care for Mr. Juxon--he is so jealous," cried
+she, again covering her face with her hands. The starting tears trickled
+through her fingers and fell upon her black dress. She was ashamed, this
+time, for she hated even to speak of such a possibility.
+
+"I understand," answered Mr. Ambrose gravely. It certainly did not strike
+him that it might be true, and his knowledge of such characters as Walter
+Goddard was got chiefly from the newspapers. He had often noticed in
+reports of trials and detailed descriptions of crimes that criminals seem
+to become entirely irrational after a certain length of time, and it was
+one of the arguments he best understood for demonstrating that bad men
+either are originally, or ultimately become mad. To men like the vicar,
+almost the only possible theory of crime is the theory of insanity. It is
+positively impossible for a man who has passed thirty or forty years in a
+quiet country parish to comprehend the motives or the actions of great
+criminals. He naturally says they must be crazy or they would not do such
+things. If Goddard were crazy enough to commit a forgery, he was crazy
+enough for anything, even to the extent of suspecting that his wife loved
+the squire.
+
+"I think," said Mr. Ambrose, "that if you agree with me it will be best
+to warn Mr. Juxon of his danger."
+
+"Of course," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "You must warn him at once!"
+
+"I will go to the Hall now," said the vicar bravely. "But--I am very
+sorry to have to dwell on the subject, my dear lady, but, without wishing
+in the least to know where the--your husband is, could you tell me
+anything about his appearance? For instance, if you understand what I
+mean, supposing that Mr. Juxon knew how he looked and should happen to
+meet him, knowing that he wished to kill him--he might perhaps avoid him,
+if you understand me?"
+
+The vicar's English was a little disturbed by his extreme desire not to
+hurt Mrs. Goddard's feelings. If the squire and his dog chanced to meet
+Walter Goddard they would probably not avoid him as the vicar expressed
+it; that was a point Mr. Ambrose was willing to leave to Mrs. Goddard's
+imagination.
+
+"Yes--must you know?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"We must know that," returned the vicar.
+
+"He is disguised as a poor tramp," she said sorrowfully. "He wears a
+smock-frock and an old hat I think. He is pale--oh, poor, poor Walter!"
+she cried again bursting into tears.
+
+Mr. Ambrose could say nothing. There was nothing to be said. He rose and
+took his hat--the old tall hat he wore to his parishioners' funerals.
+They were very primitive people in Billingsfield.
+
+"I will go at once," he said. "Believe me, you have all my sympathy--I
+will do all I can."
+
+Mary Goddard thanked him more by her looks than with any words she was
+able to speak. But she was none the less truly grateful for his sympathy
+and aid. She had a kind of blind reliance on him which made her feel that
+since she had once confided her trouble and danger nothing more could
+possibly be done. When he was gone, she sobbed with relief, as before she
+had wept for fear; she was hysterical, unstrung, utterly unlike herself.
+
+But as the vicar went up towards the Hall he felt that he had his hands
+full, and he felt moreover an uneasy sensation which he could not have
+explained. He was certainly no coward, but he had never been in such a
+position before and he did not like it; there was an air of danger about,
+an atmosphere which gave him a peculiarly unpleasant thrill from time to
+time. He was not engaged upon an agreeable errand, and he had a vague
+feeling, due, the scientists would have told him, to unconscious
+ratiocination, which seemed to tell him that something was going to
+happen. People who are very often in danger know that singular uneasiness
+which warns them that all is not well; it is not like anything else that
+can be felt. No one really knows its cause, unless it be true that the
+mind sometimes reasons for itself without the consciousness of the body,
+and communicates to the latter a spasmodic warning, the result of its
+cogitations.
+
+To say to the sturdy squire, "Beware of a man in a smock-frock, one
+Goddard the forger, who means to murder you," seemed of itself simple
+enough. But for the squire to distinguish this same Goddard from all
+other men in smock-frocks was a less easy matter. The vicar, indeed,
+could tell a strange face at a hundred yards, for he knew every man,
+woman and child in his parish; but the squire's acquaintance was more
+limited. Obviously, said Mr. Ambrose to himself, the squire's best course
+would be to stay quietly at home until the danger was passed, and to pass
+word to Policeman Gall to lay hands on any particularly seedy-looking
+tramps he happened to see in the village. It was Gall's duty to do so in
+any case, as he had been warned to be on the look-out. Mr. Ambrose
+inwardly wondered where the man could be hiding. Billingsfield was not,
+he believed, an easy place to hide in, for every ploughman knew his
+fellow, and a new face was always an object of suspicion. Not a gipsy
+tinker entered the village but what every one heard of it, and though
+tramps came through from time to time, it would be a difficult matter for
+one of them to remain two days in the place without attracting a great
+deal of attention. It was possible that Walter Goddard might have been
+concealed for one night in his wife's house, but even there he could not
+have remained hidden for two days without being seen by Mrs. Goddard's
+two women servants. The vicar walked rapidly through the park, looking
+about him suspiciously as he went. Goddard might at that very moment be
+lurking behind any one of those oaks; it would be most unpleasant if he
+mistook the vicar for the squire. But that, the vicar reflected, was
+impossible on account of his clerical dress. He reached the Hall in
+safety and stood looking down among the leafless trees, waiting for the
+door to be opened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Mr. Juxon received the vicar in the library as he had received him on the
+previous day; but on the present occasion Mr. Ambrose had not been sent
+for and the squire's face wore an expression of inquiry. He supposed his
+friend had come to ask him the result of the interview with Mrs. Goddard,
+and as he himself was on the point of going towards the cottage he wished
+the vicar had come at a later or an earlier hour.
+
+"I have a message to give you," said Mr. Ambrose, "a very important
+message."
+
+"Indeed?" answered the squire, observing his serious face.
+
+"Yes. I had better tell you at once. Mrs. Goddard sent for me this
+morning. She has actually seen her husband, who must be hiding in the
+neighbourhood. He came to her drawing-room window last night and the
+night before."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. "You don't tell me so!"
+
+"That is not the worst of the matter," continued the vicar, looking very
+grave and fixing his eyes on the squire's face. "This villainous fellow
+has been threatening to take your life, Mr. Juxon."
+
+Mr. Juxon stared at the vicar for a moment in surprise, and then broke
+into a hearty laugh.
+
+"My life!" he cried. "Upon my word, the fellow does not know what he is
+talking about! Do you mean to say that this escaped convict, who can be
+arrested at sight wherever he is found, imagines that he could attack me
+in broad daylight without being caught?"
+
+"Well, no, I suppose not--but you often walk home at night, Mr.
+Juxon--alone through the park."
+
+"I think that dog of mine could manage Mr. Goddard," remarked the squire
+calmly. "And pray, Mr. Ambrose, now that we know that the man is in the
+neighbourhood, what is to prevent us from finding him?"
+
+"We do not know where he is," replied the vicar, thanking the inspiration
+which had prevented him from asking Mrs. Goddard more questions. He had
+promised to save Goddard, too, or at least not to facilitate his capture.
+But though he was glad to be able to say honestly that he did not know
+where he was, he began to doubt whether in the eyes of the law he was
+acting rightly.
+
+"You do not know?" asked the squire.
+
+"No; and besides I think--perhaps--we ought to consider poor Mrs.
+Goddard's position."
+
+"Mrs. Goddard's position!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon almost angrily. "And who
+should consider her position more than I, Mr. Ambrose? My dear sir, I
+consider her position before all things--of course I do. But nothing
+could be of greater advantage to her position than the certainty that her
+husband is safely lodged in prison. I cannot imagine how he contrived
+to escape--can you?"
+
+"No, I cannot," answered Mr. Ambrose, thrusting his hands into his
+pockets and biting his long upper lip.
+
+"By the bye, did the fellow happen to say why he meant to lay violent
+hands on me?" inquired Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Since you ask--he did. It appears that he saw you going into the
+cottage, and immediately became jealous--"
+
+"Of me?" Mr. Juxon coloured a little beneath his bronzed complexion, and
+grew more angry. "Well, upon my word! But if that is true I am much
+obliged for your warning. Fellows of that sort never reason--he will very
+likely attack me as you say. It will be quite the last time he attacks
+anybody--the devil shall have his own, Mr. Ambrose, if I can help him to
+it--"
+
+"Dear me! Mr. Juxon--you surprise me," said the vicar, who had never
+heard his friend use such strong language before.
+
+"It is enough to surprise anybody," remarked the squire. "I trust we
+shall surprise Mr. Goddard before night. Excuse me, but when did he
+express his amiable intentions towards me?"
+
+"Last night, I believe," replied Mr. Ambrose, reluctantly.
+
+"And when did he see me going into the cottage?"
+
+"Yesterday afternoon, I believe." The vicar felt as though he were
+beginning to break his promise of shielding the fugitive, but he could
+not refuse to answer a direct question.
+
+"Then, when he saw me, he was either in the cottage or in the park. There
+was no one in the road, I am quite sure."
+
+"I do not know," said the vicar, delighted at being able to say so. He
+was such a simple man that Mr. Juxon noticed the tone of relief in which
+he denied any knowledge of Goddard's whereabouts on the previous day as
+compared with his reluctance to answer upon those points of which he was
+certain.
+
+"You are not anxious that Goddard should be caught," said the squire
+rather sharply.
+
+"Frankly," returned the vicar, "I do not wish to be instrumental in his
+capture--not that I am likely to be."
+
+"That is none of my business, Mr. Ambrose. I will try and catch him
+alone. But it would be better that he should be taken alive and
+quietly--"
+
+"Surely," cried the vicar in great alarm, "you would not kill him?"
+
+"Oh no, certainly not. But my dog might, Mr. Ambrose. They are ugly dogs
+when they are angry, and they have a remarkable faculty for finding
+people who are lost. They used to use them in Russia for tracking
+fugitive serfs and convicts who escaped from Siberia."
+
+Mr. Ambrose shuddered. The honest squire seemed almost as bloodthirsty in
+his eyes as the convict Goddard. He felt that he did not understand Mr.
+Juxon. The idea of hunting people with bloodhounds seemed utterly foreign
+to his English nature, and he could not understand how his English friend
+could entertain such a thought; he probably forgot that a few generations
+earlier the hunting of all kinds of men, papists, dissenters, covenanters
+and rebels, with dogs, had been a favourite English sport.
+
+"Really, Mr. Juxon," he said in an agitated tone, "I think you would do
+much better to protect yourself with the means provided by the law.
+Considerations of humanity--"
+
+"Considerations of humanity, sir, are at an end when one man threatens
+the life of another. You admit yourself that I am not safe unless Goddard
+is caught, and yet you object to my method of catching him. That is
+illogical."
+
+The vicar felt that this was to some extent true; but he was not willing
+to admit it. He knew also that if he could dissuade the squire from his
+barbarous scheme, Goddard would have a far better chance of escape.
+
+"I think that with the assistance of Gall and a London detective--" he
+began.
+
+"Gall is an old woman, Mr. Ambrose, and it will take twenty-four hours to
+get a detective from town. In twenty-four hours this man may have
+attacked me."
+
+"He will hardly attempt to force his way into your house, Mr. Juxon."
+
+"So then, I am to stay at home to suit his convenience? I will not do any
+such thing. Besides, in twenty-four hours Goddard may have changed his
+mind and may have taken himself off. For the rest of her life Mrs.
+Goddard will then be exposed to the possibility of every kind of
+annoyance."
+
+"He would never come back, I am sure," objected the vicar.
+
+"Why not? Every time he comes she will give him money. The more money she
+gives him the more often he will come, unless we put an end to his coming
+altogether."
+
+"You seem to forget," urged Mr. Ambrose, "that there will be a vigorous
+search made for him. Why not telegraph to the governor of Portland?"
+
+"I thought you wanted to save Mrs. Goddard from needless scandal; did you
+not?" returned the squire. "The governor of Portland would send down a
+squad of police who would publish the whole affair. He would have done so
+as soon as the man escaped had he known that Mrs. Goddard lived here."
+
+"I wonder how Goddard himself knew it," remarked Mr. Ambrose.
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps she told him she was coming here, at their last
+interview. Or perhaps she wrote to him in prison and the governor
+overlooked the letter. Anything like that would account for it."
+
+"But if you catch him--alive," hesitated the vicar, "it will all be known
+at once. I do not see how you can prevent that."
+
+"If I catch him alive, I will take him out of Billingsfield without any
+one's knowledge. I do not mean to hurt him. I only want to get him back
+to prison. Believe me, I am much more anxious than you can possibly be to
+save Mrs. Goddard from harm."
+
+"Very well. I have done my errand," said Mr. Ambrose, with a sort of sigh
+of relief. "I confess, I am in great anxiety of mind, both on your
+account and on hers. I never dreamed that such things could happen in
+Billingsfield."
+
+"You are certainly not responsible for them," answered Mr. Juxon. "It is
+not your fault--"
+
+"Not altogether, perhaps. But I was perhaps wrong in letting her come
+here--no, I am sure I was not," he added impulsively, as though ashamed
+of having said anything so unkind.
+
+"Certainly not. You were quite right, Mr. Ambrose, quite right, I assure
+you."
+
+"Well, I hope all may yet be for the best," said the vicar.
+
+"Let us hope so," replied Mr. Juxon gravely. "By all means, let us hope
+that all may be for the best."
+
+Whether the squire doubted the possibility of so happy an issue to events
+or not, is uncertain. He felt almost more sorry for the vicar than for
+himself; the vicar was such a good man, so unused to the violent deeds of
+violent people, of which the squire in his wanderings had seen more than
+was necessary to convince him that all was not always for the best in
+this best of all possible worlds.
+
+Mr. Ambrose left his friend and as he retraced his steps through the park
+was more disturbed than ever. That Goddard should contemplate killing the
+squire was bad enough, in all conscience, but that the squire should
+deliberately purpose to hunt down Goddard with his bloodhound seemed
+somehow even worse. The vicar had indeed promised Mrs. Goddard that he
+would not help to capture her husband, but he would have been as glad as
+any one to hear that the convict was once more lodged in his prison.
+There lurked in his mind, nevertheless, an impression that even a convict
+should have a fair chance. The idea was not expressed, but existed in
+him. Everybody, he would have said, ought to have a fair chance, and
+as the law of nations forbids the use of explosive bullets in warfare,
+the laws of humanity seemed to forbid the use of bloodhounds in the
+pursuit of criminals. He had a very great respect for the squire's
+character and principles, but the cold-blooded way in which Mr. Juxon had
+spoken of catching and probably killing Walter Goddard, had shaken the
+good vicar's belief in his friend. He doubted whether he were not now
+bound to return to Mrs. Goddard and to warn her in his turn of her
+husband's danger, whether he ought not to do something to save the
+wretched convict from his fate. It seemed hideous to think that in
+peaceful Billingsfield, in his own lonely parish, a human being should be
+exposed to such peril. But at this point the vicar's continuity forsook
+him. He had not the heart to tell the tale of his interview with Mr.
+Juxon to the unhappy lady he had left that morning. It was extremely
+improbable, he thought, that she should be able to communicate with her
+husband during the day, and the squire's language led him to think that
+the day would not pass without some attempt to discover Walter Goddard's
+hiding-place. Besides, the vicar's mind was altogether more disturbed
+than it had been in thirty years, and he was no longer able to account to
+himself with absolute accuracy for what he did. At all events, he felt
+that it was better not to tell Mrs. Goddard what the squire had said.
+
+When he was gone, Mr. Juxon paced his library alone in the greatest
+uncertainty. He had told the vicar in his anger that he would find
+Goddard with the help of Stamboul. That the hound was able to accomplish
+the feat in the present weather, and if Goddard had actually stood some
+time at the cottage window on the previous night, he did not doubt for a
+moment. The vicar had mentioned the window to him when he told him that
+Mrs. Goddard had seen her husband. He had probably been at the window as
+late as midnight, and the scent, renewed by his visit, would not be
+twelve hours old. Stamboul could find the man, unless he had got into a
+cart, which was improbable. But a new and startling consideration
+presented itself to the squire's mind when the vicar was gone and his
+anger had subsided; a consideration which made him hesitate what course
+to pursue.
+
+That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the
+criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should
+be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at
+large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to
+all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the
+fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one
+thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon
+had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the
+great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet
+through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the
+convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the
+squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection
+the thing appeared in a different light.
+
+He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if
+not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a
+wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free
+she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were
+removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the
+squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be
+to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for
+justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that
+Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard
+might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance
+to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want
+to murder Goddard and take his wife."
+
+It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and
+murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible one. The very
+uncertainty which there was, tempted the squire to disregard the
+possibility of Goddard's death as compared with the importance of his
+capture. It was quite likely, he unconsciously argued, that the
+bloodhound would not kill him after all; it was even possible that he
+might not find him; but it would be worth while to make the attempt, for
+the results to be obtained by catching the fugitive were very great--Mrs.
+Goddard's peace was to be considered before all things. But still before
+the squire's eyes arose the picture of Stamboul tearing the throat of the
+man he had killed in the Belgrade forest. If he killed the felon, Juxon
+would know that to all intents and purposes he had himself done the deed
+in order to marry Mrs. Goddard. But still the thought remained with him
+and would not leave him.
+
+The fellow had threatened his own life. It was then a fair fight,
+for a man cannot be blamed if he tries to get the better of one who is
+going about to kill him. On one of his many voyages, he had once shot a
+man in order to quell a mutiny; he had not killed him it is true, but
+he had disabled him for the time--he had handled many a rough customer
+in his day. The case, he thought, was similar, for it was the case of
+self-defence. The law, even, would say he was justified. But to slay a
+man in self-defence and then to marry his widow, though justifiable in
+law, is a very delicate case for the conscience; and in spite of the
+wandering life he had led, Mr. Juxon's conscience was sensitive. He was
+an honest man and a gentleman, he had tried all his life to do right as
+he saw it, and did not mean to turn murderer now, no matter how easy it
+would be for him to defend his action.
+
+At the end of an hour he had decided that it would be murder, and no
+less, to let Stamboul track Goddard to his hiding-place. The hound might
+accompany him in his walks, and if anybody attacked him it would be so
+much the worse for his assailant. Murder or no murder, he was entitled to
+take any precautions he pleased against an assault. But he would not
+willingly put the bloodhound on the scent, and he knew well enough that
+the dog would not run upon a strange trail unless he were put to it.
+The squire went to his lunch, feeling that he had made a good resolution;
+but he ate little and soon afterwards began to feel the need of going
+down to see Mrs. Goddard. No day was complete without seeing her, and
+considering the circumstances which had occurred on the previous
+afternoon, it was natural that he should call to inquire after her state.
+In the hall, the gigantic beast which had played such an important part
+in his thoughts during the morning, came solemnly up to him, raising his
+great red eyes as though asking whether he were to accompany his master.
+The squire stood still and looked at him for a moment.
+
+"Come along, Stamboul!" he said suddenly, as he put on his hat. The hound
+leaped up and laid his heavy paws on the squire's shoulders, trying to
+lick his face in his delight, then, almost upsetting the sturdy man he
+sprang back, slipped on the polished floor, recovered himself and with an
+enormous stride bounded past Mr. Juxon, out into the park. But Mr. Juxon
+quickly called him back, and presently he was following close at heel in
+his own stately way, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The
+squire felt nervous, and the sensation was new to him. He did not believe
+that Goddard would really attack him at all, certainly not that he would
+dare to attack him in broad daylight. But the knowledge of the threat the
+fellow had uttered made him watchful. He glanced to the right and left as
+he walked and gripped his heavy blackthorn stick firmly in his hand. He
+wished that if the man were to appear he would come quickly--it might be
+hard to hold Stamboul back if he were attacked unawares.
+
+He reached the gate, crossed the road and rang the bell of the cottage.
+As he stood waiting, Stamboul smelled the ground, put up his head,
+smelled it again and with his nose down trotted slowly to the window on
+the left hand of the door. He smelled the ground, the wall and presently
+put both his fore paws upon the outer ledge of the window. Then he
+dropped again, and looked at his master. Martha was a long time in coming
+to the door.
+
+"After him, Stamboul!" said the squire, almost unconsciously. The dog put
+his nose down and began to move slowly about. At that moment the door
+opened.
+
+"Oh, sir," said Martha, "it's you, sir. I was to say, if you please, that
+if you called, Mrs. Goddard was poorly to-day, sir."
+
+"Dear me!" said Mr. Juxon, "I hope she is not ill. Is it anything
+serious, Martha?"
+
+"Well, sir, she's been down this mornin', but her head ached terrible bad
+and she went back to her room--oh, sir, your dog--he's a runnin' home."
+
+As she spoke a sound rang in the air that made Martha start back. It was
+a deep, resounding, bell-like note, fierce and wild, rising and falling,
+low but full, with a horror indescribable in its echo--the sound which no
+man who has heard it ever forgets--the baying of a bloodhound on the
+track of a man.
+
+The squire turned deadly pale, but he shouted with all his might, as he
+would have shouted to a man on the topsail yard in a gale at sea.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul! Stamboul!" Again and again he yelled the dog's name.
+
+Stamboul had not gone far. The quickset hedge had baffled the scent for a
+moment and he was not a dozen yards beyond it in the park when his
+master's cry stopped him. Instantly he turned, cleared the six-foot hedge
+and double ditch at a bound and came leaping back across the road. The
+squire breathed hard, for it had been a terrible moment. If he had not
+succeeded in calling the beast back, it might have been all over with
+Walter Goddard, wherever he was hidden.
+
+"It is only his play," said Mr. Juxon, still very white and holding
+Stamboul by the collar. "Please tell Mrs. Goddard, Martha, that I am very
+sorry indeed to hear that she is ill, and that I will inquire this
+evening."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Martha, who eyed the panting beast timidly and showed an
+evident desire to shut the door as soon as possible.
+
+The squire felt more nervous than ever as he walked slowly along the road
+in the direction of the village, his hand still on the bloodhound's
+collar. He felt what a narrow escape Goddard had probably had, and the
+terrible sound of Stamboul's baying had brought back to him once again
+and very vividly the scene in the woods by the Bosphorus. He felt that
+for a few minutes at least he would rather not enter the park with the
+dog by him, and he naturally turned towards the vicarage, not with any
+intention of going in, but from sheer force of custom, as people under
+the influence of strong emotions often do things unconsciously which they
+are in the habit of doing. He walked slowly along, and had almost reached
+Mr. Ambrose's pretty old red brick house, when he found himself face to
+face with the vicar's wife. She presented an imposing appearance, as
+usual; her grey skirt, drawn up a little from the mud, revealed a bright
+red petticoat and those stout shoes which she regarded as so essential
+to health; she wore moreover a capacious sealskin jacket and a dark
+bonnet with certain jet flowers, which for many years had been regarded
+by the inhabitants of Billingsfield as the distinctive badge of a
+gentlewoman. Mrs. Ambrose was wont to smile and say that they were
+indestructible and would last as long as she did. She greeted Mr. Juxon
+cordially.
+
+"How do you, Mr. Juxon--were you going to see us? I was just going for a
+walk--perhaps you will come with me?"
+
+Mr. Juxon turned back and prepared to accompany her.
+
+"Such good news this morning, from John Short," she said. "He has
+finished his examinations, and it seems almost certain that he will be
+senior classic. His tutor at Trinity has written already to congratulate
+my husband upon his success."
+
+"I am sure, I am delighted, too," said the squire, who had regained his
+composure but kept his hold on Stamboul's collar. "He deserves all he
+gets, and more too," he continued. "I think he will be a remarkable man."
+
+"I did not think you liked him so very much," said Mrs. Ambrose rather
+doubtfully, as she walked slowly by his side.
+
+"Oh--I liked him very much. Indeed, I was going to ask him to stay with
+me for a few days at the Hall."
+
+The inspiration was spontaneous. Mr. Juxon was in a frame of mind in
+which he felt that he ought to do something pleasant for somebody, to set
+off against the bloodthirsty designs which had passed through his mind in
+the morning. He knew that if he had not been over friendly to John, it
+had been John's own fault; but since he had found out that it was
+impossible to marry Mrs. Goddard, he had forgiven the young scholar his
+shortcomings and felt very charitably inclined towards him. It suddenly
+struck him that it would give John great pleasure to stop at the Hall for
+a few days, and that it would be no inconvenience to himself. The effect
+upon Mrs. Ambrose was greater even than he had expected. She was
+hospitable, good and kind, but she was also economical, as she had need
+to be. The squire was rich. If the squire would put up John during a part
+of his visit it would be a kindness to John himself, and an economy to
+the vicarage. Mr. Ambrose himself would not have gone to such a length;
+but then, as his wife said to herself in self-defence, Augustin did not
+pay the butcher's bills, and did not know how the money went. She did not
+say that Augustin was precisely what is called reckless, but he of course
+did not understand economy as she did. How should he, poor man, with all
+his sermons and his funerals and other occupations to take his mind off?
+Mrs. Ambrose was delighted at the squire's proposal.
+
+"Really!" she exclaimed. "That would be too good of you, Mr. Juxon. And
+you do not know how it would quite delight him! He loves books so much,
+and then you know," she added in a confidential manner, "he has never
+stayed in a country house in his life, I am quite sure."
+
+"And when is he coming down?" asked Mr. Juxon. "I should be very much
+pleased to have him."
+
+"To-morrow, I think," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Well--would you ask him from me to come up and stop a week? Can you
+spare him, Mrs. Ambrose? I know you are very fond of him, of course,
+but--"
+
+"Oh very," said she warmly. "But I think it likely he will stay some
+time," she added in explanation of her willingness to let him go to the
+Hall.
+
+The squire felt vaguely that the presence of a guest in his house would
+probably be a restraint upon him, and he felt that some restraint would
+be agreeable to him at the present time.
+
+"Besides," added Mrs. Ambrose, "if you would like to have him
+first--there is a little repair necessary in his room at the vicarage--we
+have put it off too long--"
+
+"By all means." said the squire, following out his own train of thought.
+"Send him up to me as soon as he comes. If I can manage it I will be down
+here to ask him myself."
+
+"It is so good of you," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Not at all. Are you going to the cottage?"
+
+"Yes--why?"
+
+"Nothing," said Mr. Juxon. "I did not know whether you would like to walk
+on a little farther with me. Good-bye, then. You will tell Short as soon
+as he comes, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly," replied Mrs. Ambrose, still beaming upon him. "I will not
+let him unpack his things at the vicarage. Good-bye--so many thanks."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard's head ached "terrible bad" according to Martha, and when
+the vicar left her she went and lay down upon her bed, with a sensation
+that if the worst were not yet over she could bear no more. But she had
+an elastic temperament, and the fact of having consulted Mr. Ambrose that
+morning had been a greater relief than she herself suspected. She felt
+that he could be trusted to save Mr. Juxon from harm and Walter from
+capture, and having once confided to him the important secret which had
+so heavily weighed upon her mind she felt that the burthen of her
+troubles was lightened. Mr. Juxon could take any measures he pleased for
+his own safety; he would probably choose to stay at home until the danger
+was past. As for her husband, Mary Goddard did not believe that he would
+return a third time, for she thought that she had thoroughly frightened
+him. It was even likely that he had only thrown out his threat for the
+sake of terrifying his wife, and was now far beyond the limits of the
+parish. So great was the relief she felt after she had talked with the
+vicar that she almost ceased to believe there was any danger at all;
+looking at it in the light of her present mood, she almost wondered why
+she had thought it necessary to tell Mr. Ambrose--until suddenly a vision
+of her friend the squire, attacked and perhaps killed, in his own park,
+rose to her mental vision, and she remembered what agonies of fear she
+had felt for him until she had sent for the vicar. The latter indeed
+seemed to have been a sort of _deus ex maohinâ_ by whom she suddenly
+obtained peace of mind and a sense of security in the hour of her
+greatest distress.
+
+All that afternoon she lay upon her bed, while Nellie sat beside her and
+read to her, and stroked her hands; for Nellie was in reality
+passionately fond of her mother and suffered almost as much at the sight
+of her suffering as she could have done had she been in pain herself.
+Both Mrs. Goddard and the child started at the sound of Stamboul's
+baying, which was unlike anything they had ever heard before, and Nellie
+ran to the window.
+
+"It is only Mr. Juxon and Stamboul having a game," said Nellie. "What a
+noise he made, though! Did not he?"
+
+Poor Nellie--had she had any idea of what the "game" was from which the
+squire found it so hard to make his hound desist, she must have gone
+almost mad with horror. For the game was her own father, poor child. But
+she came back and sat beside her mother utterly unconscious of what might
+have happened if Stamboul had once got beyond earshot, galloping along
+the trail towards the disused vault at the back of the church. Mrs.
+Goddard had started at the sounds and had put her hand to her forehead,
+but Nellie's explanation was enough to quiet her, and she smiled faintly
+and closed her eyes again. Then, half an hour later, Mrs. Ambrose came,
+and would not be denied. She wanted to make Mrs. Goddard comfortable, she
+said, when she found she was ill, and she did her best, being a kind and
+motherly woman when not hardened by the presence of strangers. She told
+her that John was coming on the next day, speaking with vast pride of his
+success and omitting to look sternly at Mrs. Goddard as she had formerly
+been accustomed to do when she spoke of the young scholar. Then at last
+she went away, after exacting a promise from Mrs. Goddard to come and
+dine, bringing Nellie with her, on the following day, in case she should
+have recovered by that time from her headache.
+
+But during all that night Mrs. Goddard lay awake, listening for the sound
+she so much dreaded, of a creeping footstep on the slated path outside
+and for the tapping at the window. Nothing came, however, and as the grey
+dawn began to creep in through the white curtains, she fell peacefully
+asleep. Nellie would not let her be waked, and breakfasted without her,
+enjoying with childish delight the state of being waited on by Martha
+alone.
+
+Meanwhile, at an early hour, John arrived at the vicarage and was
+received with open arms by Mr. Ambrose and his wife. The latter seemed to
+forget, in the pleasure of seeing him again, that she had even once
+spoken doubtfully of him or hinted that he was anything short of
+perfection itself. And to prove how much she had done for him she
+communicated with great pride the squire's message, to the effect that he
+expected John at the Hall that very day.
+
+John's heart leaped with delight at the idea. It was natural. He was
+indeed most sincerely attached to the Ambroses, and most heartily glad to
+be with them; but he had never in his life had an opportunity of staying
+in a "big" house, as he would have described it. It seemed as though he
+were already beginning to taste the sweet first-fruits of success after
+all his labour and all his privations; it was the first taste of another
+world, the first mouthful of the good things of life which had fallen to
+his lot. Instantly there rose before him delicious visions of hot-water
+cans brought by a real footman, of luxurious meals served by a real
+butler, of soft carpets perpetually beneath his feet, of liberty to
+lounge in magnificent chairs in the magnificent library; and last, though
+not least, there was a boyish feeling of delight in the thought that when
+he went to see Mrs. Goddard he would go from the Hall, that she would
+perhaps associate him henceforth with a different kind of existence, in a
+word, that he was sure to acquire importance in her eyes from the fact of
+his visit to the squire. Many a young fellow of one and twenty is as
+familiar with all that money can give and as tired of luxury as a
+broken-down hard liver of forty years; for this is an age of luxurious
+living. But poor John had hardly ever tasted the least of those things
+too familiar to the golden youth of the period to be even noticed. He had
+felt when he first entered the little drawing-room of the cottage that
+Mrs. Goddard herself belonged, or had belonged, to that delicious unknown
+world of ease where the question of expense was never considered, much
+less mentioned. In her own eyes she was indeed living in a state
+approaching to penury, but the spectacle of her pictures, her furniture
+and her bibelots had impressed John with a very different idea. The
+squire's invitation, asking him to spend a week at the Hall, seemed in a
+moment to put him upon the same level as the woman to whom he believed
+himself so devotedly attached. To his mind the ideal woman could not but
+be surrounded by a luxurious atmosphere of her own. To enter the charmed
+precincts of those surroundings seemed to John equivalent to being
+transported from the regions of the Theocritan to the level of the
+Anacreontic ode, from the pastoral, of which he had had too much, to the
+aristocratic, of which he felt that he could not have enough. It was a
+natural feeling in a very young man of his limited experience.
+
+He stayed some hours at the vicarage. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose thought
+him changed in the short time which had elapsed since they had seen him.
+He had grown more grave; he was certainly more of a man. The great
+contest he had just sustained with so much honour had left upon his young
+face its mark, an air of power which had not formerly been visible there;
+even his voice seemed to have grown deeper and rounder, and his words
+carried more weight. The good vicar, who had seen several generations
+of students, already distinguished in John Short the budding "don," and
+rubbed his hands with great satisfaction.
+
+John asked few questions but found himself obliged to answer many
+concerning his recent efforts. He would have liked to say something about
+Mrs. Goddard, but he remembered with some awe and much aversion the
+circumstances in which he had last quitted the vicarage, and he held his
+peace; whereby he again rose in Mrs. Ambrose's estimation. He made up for
+his silence by speaking effusively of the squire's kindness in asking him
+to the Hall; forgetting perhaps the relief he had felt when he escaped
+from Billingsfield after Christmas without being again obliged to shake
+hands with Mr. Juxon. Things looked very differently now, however. He
+felt himself to be somebody in the world, and that distressing sense of
+inferiority which had perhaps been at the root of his jealousy against
+the squire was gone, swallowed in the sense of triumph. His face was
+pale, perhaps, from overwork, but there was a brilliancy in his eyes and
+an incisiveness in his speech which came from the confidence of victory.
+He now desired nothing more than to meet the squire, feeling sure that he
+should receive his congratulations, and though he stayed some hours in
+conversation with his old friends, in imagination he was already at the
+Hall. The squire had not come down to meet him, as he had proposed, but
+he had sent his outlandish American gig with his groom to fetch John.
+While he was at the vicarage the latter was probably too much occupied
+with conversation to notice that Mr. Ambrose seemed preoccupied and
+changed, and the vicar was to some extent recalled to his usual manner by
+the presence of his pupil. Mrs. Ambrose had taxed her husband with
+concealing something from her ever since the previous day, but the good
+man was obstinate and merely said that he felt unaccountably nervous and
+irritable, and begged her to excuse his mood. Mrs. Ambrose postponed her
+cross-examination until a more favourable opportunity should present
+itself.
+
+John got into the gig and drove away. He was to return with the squire to
+dinner in the evening, and he fully expected that Mrs. Goddard and Nellie
+would be of the party--it seemed hardly likely that they should be
+omitted. Indeed, soon after John had left a note arrived at the vicarage
+explaining that Mrs. Goddard was much better and would certainly come,
+according to Mrs. Ambrose's very kind invitation.
+
+It is unnecessary to dwell upon the meeting which took place between Mr.
+Juxon and John Short. The squire was hospitable in the extreme and
+expressed his great satisfaction at having John under his own roof at
+last. He was perhaps, like the vicar, a little nervous, but the young man
+did not notice it, being much absorbed by the enjoyment of his good
+fortune and of the mental rest he so greatly needed. Mr. Juxon
+congratulated him warmly and expressed a hope, amounting to certainty,
+that John might actually be at the head of the Tripos; to which John
+modestly replied that he would be quite satisfied to be in the first ten,
+knowing in his heart that he should be most bitterly disappointed if he
+were second to any one. He sat opposite to his host in a deep chair
+beside the fire in the library and revelled in comfort and ease, enjoying
+every trifle that fell in his way, feeling only a very slight diffidence
+in regard to himself for the present and none at all for the future. The
+squire was so cordial that he felt himself thoroughly at home. Indeed Mr.
+Juxon already rejoiced at his wisdom in asking John to the Hall. The lad
+was strong, hopeful, well-balanced in every respect and his presence was
+an admirable tonic to the almost morbid state of anxiety in which the
+squire had lived ever since his interview with Policeman Gall, two days
+before. In the sunshine of John's young personality, fears grew small and
+hope grew big. The ideas which had passed through Mr. Juxon's brain on
+the previous evening, just after Mr. Ambrose had warned him of Goddard's
+intentions, seemed now like the evil shadows of a nightmare. All
+apprehension lest the convict should attempt to execute his threats
+disappeared like darkness before daylight, and in the course of an hour
+or two the squire found himself laughing and chatting with his guest as
+though there were no such things as forgery or convicts in the world. The
+afternoon passed very pleasantly between the examination of Mr. Juxon's
+treasures and the conversation those objects elicited. For John, who was
+an accomplished scholar, had next to no knowledge of bibliology and took
+delight in seeing for the first time many a rare edition which he had
+heard mentioned or had read of in the course of his studies. He would not
+have believed that he could be now talking on such friendly terms with a
+man for whom he had once felt the strongest antipathy, and Mr. Juxon on
+his part felt that in their former meetings he had not done full justice
+to the young man's undoubted talents.
+
+As they drove down to the vicarage that evening Mrs. Goddard's name was
+mentioned for the first time. John, with a fine affectation of
+indifference, asked how she was.
+
+"She has not been very well lately," answered Mr. Juxon.
+
+"What has been the matter?" inquired John, who could not see his
+companion's face in the dark shade of the trees.
+
+"Headache, I believe," returned the squire laconically, and silence
+ensued for a few moments. "I should not wonder if it rained again this
+evening," he added presently as they passed through the park gate, out
+into the road. The sky was black and it was hard to see anything beyond
+the yellow streak of light which fell from the lamps and ran along the
+road before the gig.
+
+"If it turns out a fine night, don't come for us. We will walk home,"
+said the squire to the groom as they descended before the vicarage and
+Stamboul, who had sat on the floor between them, sprang down to the
+ground.
+
+John was startled when he met Mrs. Goddard. He was amazed at the change
+in her appearance for which no one had prepared him. She met him indeed
+very cordially but he felt as though she were not the same woman he had
+known so short a time before. There was still in her face that delicate
+pathetic expression which had at first charmed him, there was still the
+same look in her eyes; but what had formerly seemed so attractive seemed
+now exaggerated. Her cheeks looked wan and hollow and there were deep
+shadows about her eyes and temples; her lips had lost their colour and
+the lines about her mouth had suddenly become apparent where John had not
+before suspected them. She looked ten years older as she put her thin
+hand in his and smiled pleasantly at his greeting. Some trite phrase
+about the "ravages of time" crossed John's mind and gave him a
+disagreeable sensation, for which it was hard to account. He felt as
+though his dream were suddenly dead and a strange reality had taken life
+in its place. Could this be she to whom he had written verses by the
+score, at whose smile he had swelled with pride, at whose careless laugh
+he had trembled with shame? She was terribly changed, she looked
+positively old--what John called old. As he sat by her side talking and
+wondering whether he would fall back into those same grooves of
+conversation he had associated with her formerly, he felt something akin
+to pity for her, which he had certainly never expected to feel. She was
+not the same as before--even the tone of her voice was different; she was
+gentle, pathetic, endowed even now with many charms, but she was not
+the woman he had dreamed of and tried to speak to of the love he fancied
+was in his heart. She talked--yes; but there were long pauses, and her
+eyes wandered strangely from him, often towards the windows of the
+vicarage drawing-room, often towards the doors; her answers were not
+always to the point and her interest seemed to flag in what was said.
+John could not fail to notice too that both Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon
+treated her with the kind of attention which is bestowed upon invalids,
+and the vicar's wife was constantly doing something to make her
+comfortable, offering her a footstool, shading the light from her eyes,
+asking if she felt any draught where she sat. These were things no one
+had formerly thought of doing for Mrs. Goddard, who in spite of her sad
+face had been used to laugh merrily enough with the rest, and whose lithe
+figure had seemed to John the embodiment of youthful activity. At last he
+ventured to ask her a question.
+
+"Have you been ill, Mrs. Goddard?" he inquired in a voice full of
+interest. Her soft eyes glanced uneasily at him. He was now the only one
+of the party who was not in some degree acquainted with her troubles.
+
+"Oh no!" she answered nervously. "Only a little headache. It always makes
+me quite wretched when I have it."
+
+"Yes. I often have headaches, too," answered John. "The squire told me as
+we came down."
+
+"What did he tell you?" asked Mrs. Goddard so quickly as to startle her
+companion.
+
+"Oh--only that you had not been very well. Where is it that you suffer?"
+he asked sympathetically. "I think it is worst when it seems to be in
+the very centre of one's head, like a red-hot nail being driven in with a
+hammer--is that like what you feel?"
+
+"I--yes, I daresay. I don't quite know," she answered, her eyes wandering
+uneasily about the room. "I suppose you have dreadful headaches over
+your work, do you not, Mr. Short?" she added quickly, feeling that she
+must say something.
+
+"Oh, it is all over now," said John rather proudly. But as he leaned back
+in his chair he said to himself that this meeting was not precisely what
+he had anticipated; the subject of headaches might have a fine interest
+in its way, but he had expected to have talked of more tender things. To
+his own great surprise he felt no desire to do so, however. He had not
+recovered from the shock of seeing that Mrs. Goddard had grown old.
+
+"Yes," said she, kindly. "How glad you must be! To have done so
+splendidly too--you must feel that you have realised a magnificent
+dream."
+
+"No," said John. "I cannot say I do. I have done the thing I meant to do,
+or I have good reason to believe that I have; but I have not realised my
+dream. I shall never write any more odes, Mrs. Goddard."
+
+"Why not? Oh, you mean to me, Mr. Short?" she added with something of her
+old manner. "Well, you know, it is much better that you should not."
+
+"Perhaps so," answered John rather sadly. "I don't know. Frankly, Mrs.
+Goddard, did not you sometimes think I was very foolish last Christmas?"
+
+"Very," she said, smiling at him kindly. "But I think you have changed. I
+think you are more of a man, now--you have something more serious--"
+
+"I used to think I was very serious, and so I was," said John, with the
+air of a man who refers to the follies of his long past youth. "Do you
+remember how angry I was when you wanted me to skate with Miss Nellie?"
+
+"Oh, I only said that to teaze you," Mrs. Goddard answered. "I daresay
+you would be angry now, if I suggested the same thing."
+
+"No," said John quietly. "I do not believe I should be. As you say, I
+feel very much older now than I did then."
+
+"The older we grow the more we like youth," said Mary Goddard,
+unconsciously uttering one of the fundamental truths of human nature, and
+at the same time so precisely striking the current of John's thoughts
+that he started. He was wondering within himself why it was that she now
+seemed too old for him, whereas a few short months ago she had seemed to
+be of his own age.
+
+"How true that is!" he exclaimed. Mrs. Goddard laughed faintly.
+
+"You are not old enough to have reached that point yet, Mr. Short," she
+said. "Really, here we are moralising like a couple of old philosophers!"
+
+"This is a moralising season," answered John. "When we last met, it was
+all holly-berries and Christmas and plum-pudding."
+
+"How long ago that seems!" exclaimed the poor lady with a sigh.
+
+"Ages!" echoed John, sighing in his turn, but not so much for sadness, it
+may be, as from relief that the great struggle was over. That time of
+anxiety and terrible effort seemed indeed very far removed from him, but
+its removal was a cause of joy rather than of sadness. He sighed like a
+man who, sitting over his supper, remembers the hard fought race he has
+won in the afternoon, feeling yet in his limbs the ability to race and
+win again but feeling in his heart the delicious consciousness that the
+question of his superiority has been decided beyond all dispute.
+
+"And now you will stay here a long time, of course," said Mrs. Goddard
+presently.
+
+"I am stopping at the Hall, just now," said John with a distinct sense of
+the importance of the fact, "and after a week I shall stay here a few
+days. Then I shall go to London to see my father."
+
+"No one will be so glad as he to hear of your success."
+
+"No indeed. I really think it is more for his sake that I want to be
+actually first," said John. "Do you know, I have so often thought how he
+will look when I meet him and tell him I am the senior classic."
+
+John's voice trembled and as Mrs. Goddard looked at him, she thought she
+saw a moisture in his eyes. It pleased her to see it, for it showed that
+John Short had more heart than she had imagined.
+
+"I can fancy that," she said, warmly. "I envy you that moment."
+
+Presently the squire came over to where they were sitting and joined
+them; and then Mrs. Ambrose spoke to John, and Nellie came and asked him
+questions. Strange to say John felt none of that annoyance which he
+formerly felt when his conversations with Mrs. Goddard were interrupted,
+and he talked with Nellie and Mrs. Ambrose quite as readily as with her.
+He felt very calm and happy that night, as though he had done with the
+hard labour of life. In half an hour he had realised that he was no more
+in love with Mrs. Goddard than he was with Mrs. Ambrose, and he was
+trying to explain to himself how it was that he had ever believed in such
+a palpable absurdity. Love was doubtless blind, he thought, but he was
+surely not so blind as to overlook the evidences of Mrs. Goddard's age.
+All the dreams of that morning faded away before the sight of her face,
+and so deep is the turpitude of the best of human hearts that John was
+almost ashamed of having once thought he loved her. That was probably the
+best possible proof that his love had been but a boyish fancy.
+
+What the little party at the vicarage would have been like, if John's
+presence had not animated it, would be hard to say. The squire and Mr.
+Ambrose treated Mrs. Goddard with the sort of paternal but solemn care
+which is usually bestowed either upon great invalids or upon persons
+bereaved of some very dear relation. The two elder men occasionally
+looked at her and exchanged glances when they were not observed by Mrs.
+Ambrose, wondering perhaps what would next befall the unfortunate lady
+and whether she could bear much more of the excitement and anxiety to
+which she had of late been subjected. On the whole the conversation was
+far from being lively, and Mrs. Goddard herself felt that it was a relief
+when the hour came for going home.
+
+The vicar had ordered his dog-cart for her and Nellie, but as the night
+had turned out better than had been expected Mr. Juxon's groom had not
+come down from the Hall. Both he and John would be glad of the walk; it
+had not rained for two days and the roads were dry.
+
+"Look here," said the squire, as they rose to take their leave, "Mr.
+Short had better go as far as the cottage in the dog-cart, to see Mrs.
+Goddard home. I will go ahead on foot--I shall probably be there as soon
+as you. There is not room for us all, and somebody must go with her, you
+know. Besides," he added, "I have got Stamboul with me."
+
+Mrs. Goddard, who was standing beside the squire, laid her hand
+beseechingly upon his arm.
+
+"Oh, pray don't," she said in low voice. "Why have you not got your
+carriage?"
+
+"Never mind me," he answered in the same tone. "I am all right, I like to
+walk."
+
+Before she could say anything more, he had shaken hands with Mr. and Mrs.
+Ambrose and was gone. Perhaps in his general determination to be good to
+everybody he fancied that John would enjoy the short drive with Mrs.
+Goddard better than the walk with himself.
+
+But when he was gone, Mrs. Goddard grew very nervous. One of her wraps
+could not be found, and while search was being made for it the motherly
+Mrs. Ambrose insisted upon giving her something hot, in the way of brandy
+and water. She looked very ill, but showed the strongest desire to go. It
+was no matter about the shawl, she said; Mr. Ambrose could send it in the
+morning; but the thing was found and at last Mrs. Goddard and Nellie and
+John got into the dog-cart with old Reynolds and drove off. All these
+things consumed some time.
+
+The squire on the other hand strode briskly forward towards the cottage,
+not wishing to keep John waiting for him. As he walked his mind wandered
+back to the consideration of the almost tragic events which were
+occurring in the peaceful village. He forgot all about John, as he looked
+up at the half moon which struggled to give some light through the
+driving clouds; he fell to thinking of Mrs. Goddard and to wondering
+where her husband might be lying hidden. The road was lonely and he
+walked fast, with Stamboul close at his heel. The dog-cart did not
+overtake him before he reached the cottage, and he forgot all about it.
+By sheer force of habit he opened the white gate and, closing it behind
+him, entered the park alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the
+vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she
+betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave
+face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid
+since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about
+him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to
+offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and
+had been very much surprised at the squire's sudden determination to walk
+home; he would gladly have seized his hat and run after his friend, but
+he feared Mrs. Ambrose's curiosity and moreover on reflection felt sure
+that the dog-cart would overtake Mr. Juxon before he was half way to the
+cottage. He was very far from suspecting him of the absence of mind which
+he actually displayed, but it was a great relief to him to see the little
+party safe in the dog-cart and on the way homeward.
+
+Mrs. Goddard was on the front seat with old Reynolds, and John, who would
+have preferred to sit by her side a few months ago, was glad to find
+himself behind with Nellie. It was a curious instinct, but he felt it
+strongly and was almost grateful to the old man for stolidly keeping his
+seat. So he sat beside Nellie and talked to her, to the child's intense
+delight; she had not enjoyed the evening very much, for she felt the
+general sense of oppression as keenly as children always feel such
+things, and she had long exhausted the slender stock of illustrated books
+which lay upon the table in the vicarage drawing-room.
+
+"There is no more skating now," said John. "What do you do to amuse
+yourselves?"
+
+"I am studying history with mamma," answered Nellie, "and that takes ever
+so much time, you know. And then--oh, we are beginning to think of the
+spring, and we look after the violet plants in the frames."
+
+"It does not feel much like spring," remarked John.
+
+"No--and mamma has not been well lately, so we have not done much of
+anything."
+
+"Has she been ill long?" asked John.
+
+"No--oh no! Only the last two or three days, ever since--" Nellie stopped
+herself. Her mother had told her not to mention the tramp's visit.
+
+"Ever since when?" asked John, becoming suddenly interested.
+
+"Ever since the last time the Ambroses came to tea," said Nellie with a
+readiness beyond her years. "But she looks dreadfully, does not she?"
+
+"Dreadfully," answered John. Then, leaning back and turning his head he
+spoke to Mrs. Goddard. "I hope you are quite warm enough?" he said.
+
+"Quite--thanks," answered she, but her voice sounded tremulous in the
+night. It might have been the shaking of the dog-cart. In a few minutes
+they drew up before the door of the cottage. John sprang to the ground
+and almost lifted Mrs. Goddard from the high seat.
+
+"Where is Mr. Juxon?" she asked anxiously.
+
+John looked round, peering into the gloom. A black cloud driven by the
+strong east wind was passing over the moon, and for some moments it was
+almost impossible to see anything. The squire was nowhere to be seen.
+John turned and helped Nellie off the back seat of the dog-cart.
+
+"I am afraid we must have passed him," he said quietly. Formerly Mrs.
+Goddard's tone of anxiety as she asked for the squire would have roused
+John's resentment; he now thought nothing of it. Reynolds prepared to
+move off.
+
+"Won't you please wait a moment, Reynolds?" said Mrs. Goddard, going
+close to the old man. She could not have told why she asked him to stay,
+it was a nervous impulse.
+
+"Why?" asked John. "You know I am going to the Hall."
+
+"Yes, of course. I only thought, perhaps, you and Mr. Juxon would like to
+drive up--it is so dark. I am sure Mr. Ambrose would not mind you taking
+the gentlemen up to the Hall, Reynolds?"
+
+"No m'm. I'm quite sure as he wouldn't," exclaimed Reynolds with great
+alacrity. He immediately had visions of a pint of beer in the Hall
+kitchen.
+
+"You do not think Mr. Juxon may have gone on alone, Mr. Short?" said Mrs.
+Goddard, leaning upon the wicket gate. Her face looked very pale in the
+gloom.
+
+"No--at would be very odd if he did," replied John, who had his hands in
+his greatcoat pockets and slowly stamped one foot after another on the
+hard ground, to keep himself warm.
+
+"Then we must have passed him on the road," said Mrs. Goddard. "But I was
+so sure I saw nobody--"
+
+"I think he will come presently," answered John in a reassuring tone.
+"Why do you wait, Mrs. Goddard? You must be cold, and it is dangerous for
+you to be out here. Don't wait, Reynolds," he added; "we will walk up."
+
+"Oh please don't," cried Mrs. Goddard, imploringly.
+
+John looked at her in some surprise. The cloud suddenly passed from
+before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly.
+He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he
+supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition. Reynolds
+on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but
+sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry,
+the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a
+feeble and antiquated fashion. For some minutes there was total silence.
+Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save
+the strong east wind rushing past the cottage and losing itself among the
+withered oaks of the park opposite.
+
+Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air.
+Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul!" The squire's ringing voice was heard far up the
+park. The bloodhound's distant baying suddenly ceased. John thought he
+heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the
+sighing wind. Then there was silence again. Mrs. Goddard leaned back
+against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed
+close to her mother's side.
+
+"Why--he has gone up the park!" exclaimed John in great surprise. "He was
+calling to his dog--"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Short!" cried Mrs. Goddard in agonised tones, as soon as she
+could speak, "I am sure something dreadful has happened--do go. Mr.
+Short--do go and see--"
+
+Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon
+John.
+
+"Stay with Mrs. Goddard, Reynolds," he said quickly and darted across the
+road towards the park gate. John was strong and active. He laid his
+hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the
+top of his speed up the dark avenue.
+
+Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone,
+swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel
+in the gloom. He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the
+afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he
+had felt before his guest's coming. But in the short walk of scarcely
+half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become
+entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. Goddard's strange position, and for
+the moment John was quite forgotten. He entered the park and the long
+iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a
+sharp click. Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly
+behind him. At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned
+sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground,
+where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere. As he came towards this
+hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him. Had the wind been
+in the opposite direction, Stamboul's sharp nostrils would have scented
+danger. As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire's
+heels. The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as
+has been seen, by a sweeping cloud. The squire turned to the right and
+tramped along the hard road.
+
+At the darkest spot in the way a man sprang out suddenly before him and
+struck a quick blow at his head with something heavy. But it was very
+dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded
+frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it passed
+and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side.
+At the same instant--it all happened in the space of two seconds,
+Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the
+shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent
+him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he
+leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the
+murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover
+himself and turn to spring again, Walter Goddard, who had chanced never
+to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and
+fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before
+the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the
+bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying
+note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the
+ditch and followed him into the gloom.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty
+yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream
+broke the silence.
+
+A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the
+prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no
+easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the
+moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees
+upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his
+heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for
+an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim
+limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul
+writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire
+glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering
+moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly
+wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was.
+
+It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man
+thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his
+strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was
+impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he
+should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the
+scene of the disaster.
+
+"Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park.
+
+"This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's
+quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a
+moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he
+saw.
+
+"Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he
+added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr.
+Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is
+alive?"
+
+John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by
+Goddard's body and looked into his face.
+
+"Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it
+seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or
+dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and
+felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all
+living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter
+Goddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not
+distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground.
+
+"I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and
+drew back a little way from the body.
+
+"Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon,
+and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul
+by his side.
+
+John shuddered when he was left alone. It was indeed a dismal scene
+enough. At his feet lay Walter Goddard's body, faintly illuminated by the
+struggling moonbeams; all around and overhead the east wind was howling
+and whistling and sighing in the dry oak branches, whirling hither and
+thither the few brown leaves that had clung to their hold throughout the
+long winter; the sound of the squire's rapidly retreating footsteps grew
+more faint in the distance; John felt that he was alone and was very
+uncomfortable. He would have liked to go back to the cottage and tell
+Mrs. Goddard of what had happened, and that Mr. Juxon was safe; but he
+thought the squire might return and find that he had left his post and
+accuse him of cowardice. He drew back from the man's body and sheltered
+himself from the wind, leaning against the broad trunk of an old oak
+tree. He had not stood thus many minutes when he heard the sound of
+wheels upon the hard road. It might be Mrs. Goddard, he thought. With one
+more glance at the prostrate body, he turned away and hurried through the
+trees towards the avenue. The bright lamps of the dog-cart were almost
+close before him. He shouted to Reynolds.
+
+"Whoa, January!" ejaculated that ancient functionary as he pulled up
+Strawberry close to John Short. Why the natives of Essex and especially
+of Billingsfield habitually address their beasts of burden as "January"
+is a matter best left to the discrimination of philologers; obedient to
+the familiar words however, Strawberry stood still in the middle of the
+road. John could see that Mrs. Goddard was seated by the side of Reynolds
+but that Nellie was not in the cart.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, is that you?" said John. "Mr. Juxon will be here in a
+moment. Don't be frightened--he is not hurt in the least; awfully bad
+luck for the tramp, though!"
+
+"The tramp?" repeated Mrs. Goddard with a faint cry of horror.
+
+"Yes," said John, whose spirits rose wonderfully in the light of the
+dog-cart lamps. "There was a poor tramp hanging about the park--poaching,
+very likely--and Mr. Juxon's dog got after him, somehow, I suppose. I do
+not know how it happened, but when I came up--oh! here is Mr. Juxon
+himself--he will tell you all about it."
+
+The squire came up in breathless haste, having locked Stamboul into the
+house.
+
+"Good Heavens! Mrs. Goddard!" he ejaculated in a tone of profound
+surprise. But Mrs. Goddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the
+step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's
+shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had
+fainted. The old man seemed not to comprehend what had happened; he
+had never experienced the sensation of having a lady leaning upon his
+shoulder, and he looked down at her with a half idiotic smile on his
+deeply furrowed face.
+
+"She's took wuss, sir," he remarked. "She was all for comin' up the park
+as soon as Master John was gone. She warn't feelin' herself o' no account
+t' evenin'."
+
+"Look here, Mr. Short," said the squire decisively. "I must ask you to
+take Mrs. Goddard home again and call her women to look after her. I
+fancy she will come to herself before long. Do you mind?"
+
+"Not in the least," said John cheerfully, mounting at the back of the
+dog-cart.
+
+"And--Reynolds--bring Mr. Short back to the Hall immediately, please, and
+you shall have some beer."
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+John supported the fainting lady with one arm, turning round upon his
+seat at the back. Old Strawberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and
+trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going
+home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter
+Goddard had fallen.
+
+The squire knelt down and tried to ascertain the extent of the man's
+injuries; as far as he could see there was a bad wound at his throat, and
+one hand was much mangled. But there seemed to have been no great flow of
+blood. He tore open the smock-frock and shirt and put his ear to the
+heart. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear it beat. Walter Goddard was
+alive still--alive to live for years perhaps, the squire reflected; to
+live in a prison, it was true, but to live. To describe his feelings in
+that moment would be impossible. Had he found the convict dead, it would
+be useless to deny that he would have felt a very great satisfaction,
+tempered perhaps by some pity for the wretched man's miserable end, but
+still very great. It would have seemed such a just end, after all; to be
+killed in the attempt to kill, and to have died not by the squire's hand
+but by the sharp strong jaws of the hound who had once before saved the
+squire's life. But he was alive. It would not take much to kill him; a
+little pressure on his wounded throat would be enough. Even to leave
+him there, uncared for, till morning in the bleak wind, lying upon the
+cold ground, would be almost certain to put an end to his life. But to
+the honour of Charles James Juxon be it said that such thoughts never
+crossed his mind. He pulled off his heavy ulster greatcoat, wrapped it
+about the felon's insensible body, then, kneeling, raised up his head and
+shoulders, got his strong arms well round him and with some difficulty
+rose to his feet. Once upright, it was no hard matter to carry his
+burthen through the trees to the road, and up the avenue to his own door.
+
+"Holmes," said Mr. Juxon to his butler, "this man is badly hurt, but he
+is alive. Help me to carry him upstairs."
+
+There was that in the squire's voice which brooked neither question nor
+delay when he was in earnest. The solemn butler took Walter Goddard by
+the feet and the squire took him by the shoulders; so they carried him up
+to a bedroom and laid him down, feeling for the bed in the dark as they
+moved. Holmes then lit a candle with great calmness.
+
+"Shall I send for the medical man, sir?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Yes. Send the gig as fast as possible. If he is not at home, or cannot
+be found, send on to the town. If anybody asks questions say the man is a
+tramp who attacked me in the park and Stamboul pulled him down. Send at
+once, and bring me some brandy and light the fire here."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Holmes, and left the room.
+
+Mr. Juxon lighted other candles and examined the injured man. There was
+now no doubt that he was alive. He breathed faintly but regularly; his
+pulse beat less rapidly and more firmly. His face was deadly pale and
+very thin, and his half-opened eyes stared unconsciously upwards, but
+they were not glazed nor death-like. He seemed to have lost little
+blood, comparatively speaking.
+
+"Bah!" ejaculated the squire. "I believe he is only badly frightened,
+after all."
+
+Holmes brought brandy and warm water and again left the room. Mr. Juxon
+bathed Goddard's face and neck with a sponge, eying him suspiciously all
+the while. It would not have surprised him at any moment if he had leaped
+from the bed and attempted to escape. To guard against surprise, the
+squire locked the door and put the key in his pocket, watching the
+convict to see whether he noticed the act or was really unconscious. But
+Goddard never moved nor turned his motionless eyeballs. Mr. Juxon
+returned to his side, and with infinite care began to remove his clothes.
+They were almost in rags. He examined each article, and was surprised to
+find money in the pockets, amounting to nearly sixty pounds; then he
+smiled to himself, remembering that the convict had visited his wife and
+had doubtless got the money from her to aid him in his escape. He put the
+notes and gold carefully together in a drawer after counting them, and
+returning to his occupation succeeded at last in putting Goddard to bed,
+after staunching his wounds as well as he could with handkerchiefs.
+
+He stood long by the bedside, watching the man's regular breathing, and
+examining his face attentively. Many strange thoughts passed through his
+mind, as he stood there, looking at the man who had caused such misery to
+himself, such shame and sorrow to his fair wife, such disappointment to
+the honest man who was now trying to save him from the very grasp of
+death. So this was Mary Goddard's husband, little Nellie's father--this
+grimy wretch, whose foul rags lay heaped there in the corner, whose
+miserable head pressed the spotless linen of the pillow, whose
+half-closed eyes stared up so senselessly at the squire's face. This was
+the man for whose sake Mary Goddard started and turned pale, fainted and
+grew sick, languished and suffered so much pain. No wonder she concealed
+it from Nellie--no wonder she had feared lest after many years he should
+come back and claim her for his wife--no wonder either that a man with
+such a face should do bad deeds.
+
+Mr. Juxon was a judge of faces; persons accustomed for many years to
+command men usually are. He noted Walter Goddard's narrow jaw and pointed
+chin, his eyes set near together, his wicked lips, parted and revealing
+sharp jagged teeth, his ill-shaped ears and shallow temples, his flat low
+forehead, shown off by his cropped hair. And yet this man had once been
+called handsome, he had been admired and courted. But then his hair had
+hidden the shape of his head, his long golden moustache had covered his
+mouth and disguised all his lower features, he had been arrayed by
+tailors of artistic merit, and he had had much gold in his pockets. He
+was a very different object now--the escaped convict, close cropped, with
+a half-grown beard upon his ill-shaped face, and for all ornament a linen
+sheet drawn up under his chin.
+
+The squire was surprised that he did not recover consciousness, seeing
+that he breathed regularly and was no longer so pale as at first. A faint
+flush seemed to rise to his sunken cheeks, and for a long time Mr. Juxon
+stood beside him, expecting every moment that he would speak. Once he
+thought his lips moved a little. Then Mr. Juxon took a little brandy in a
+spoon and raising his head poured it down his throat. The effect was
+immediate. Goddard opened wide his eyes, the blood mounted to his cheeks
+with a deep flush, and he uttered an inarticulate sound.
+
+"What did you say?" asked the squire, bending over him.
+
+But there was no answer. The sick man's head fell back upon the pillow,
+though his eyes remained wide open and the flush did not leave his
+cheeks. His pulse was now very high, and his breathing grew heavy and
+stertorous.
+
+"I hope I have not made him any worse," remarked Mr. Juxon aloud, as he
+contemplated his patient. "But if he is going to die, I wish he would die
+now."
+
+The thought was charitable, on the whole. If Walter Goddard died then and
+there, he would be buried in a nameless grave under the shadow of the
+old church; no one would ever know that he was the celebrated forger, the
+escaped convict, the husband of Mary Goddard. If he lived--heaven alone
+knew what complications would follow if he lived.
+
+There was a knock at the door. Mr. Juxon drew the key from his pocket and
+opened it. Holmes the butler stood outside.
+
+"Mr. Short has come back, sir. He asked if you wished to see him."
+
+"Ask him to come here," replied the squire, to whom the tension of
+keeping his solitary watch was becoming very irksome. In a few moments
+John entered the room, looking pale and nervous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+John Short was in absolute ignorance of what was occurring. He attributed
+Mrs. Goddard's anxiety to her solicitude for Mr. Juxon, and if he had
+found time to give the matter serious consideration, he would have argued
+very naturally that she was fond of the squire. It had been less easy
+than the latter had supposed to take her home and persuade her to stay
+there, for she was in a state in which she hardly understood reason.
+Nothing but John's repeated assurances to the effect that Mr. Juxon was
+not in the least hurt, and that he would send her word of the condition
+of the wounded tramp, prevailed upon her to remain at the cottage; for
+she had come back to consciousness before the dog-cart was fairly out of
+the park and had almost refused to enter her own home.
+
+The catastrophe had happened, after eight and forty hours of suspense,
+and her position was one of extreme fear and doubt. She had indeed seen
+the squire at the very moment when she fainted, but the impression was
+uncertain as that of a dream, and it required all John's asseverations to
+persuade her that Mr. Juxon had actually met her and insisted that she
+should return to the cottage. Once there, in her own house, she abandoned
+herself to the wildest excitement, shutting herself into the drawing-room
+and refusing to see anyone; she gave way to all her sorrow and fear,
+feeling that if she controlled herself any longer she must go mad. Indeed
+it was the best thing she could do, for her nerves were overstrained, and
+the hysterical weeping which now completely overpowered her for some
+time, was the natural relief to her overwrought system. She had not the
+slightest doubt that the tramp of whom John had spoken, and whom he had
+described as badly hurt, was her husband; and together with her joy at
+Mr. Juxon's escape, she felt an intolerable anxiety to know Walter's
+fate. If in ordinary circumstances she had been informed that he had died
+in prison, it would have been absurd to expect her to give way to any
+expressions of excessive grief; she would perhaps have shed a few womanly
+tears and for some time she would have been more sad than usual; but she
+no longer loved him and his death could only be regarded as a release
+from all manner of trouble and shame and evil foreboding. With his
+decease would have ended her fears for poor Nellie, her apprehensions for
+the future in case he should return and claim her, the whole weight of
+her humiliation, and if she was too kind to have rejoiced over such a
+termination of her woes, she was yet too sensible not to have fully
+understood and appreciated the fact of her liberation and of the freedom
+given to the child she loved, by the death of a father whose return could
+bring nothing but disgrace. But now she did not know whether Walter were
+alive or dead. If he was alive he was probably so much injured as to
+preclude all possibility of his escaping, and he must inevitably be given
+up to justice, no longer to imprisonment merely, but by his own
+confession to suffer the death of a murderer. If on the other hand he
+was already dead, he had died a death less shameful indeed, but of which
+the circumstances were too horrible for his wife to contemplate, for he
+must have been torn to pieces by Stamboul the bloodhound.
+
+She unconsciously comprehended all these considerations, which entirely
+deprived her of the power to weigh them in her mind, for her mind was
+temporarily loosed from all control of the reasoning faculty. She had
+borne much during the last three days, but she could bear no more;
+intellect and sensibility were alike exhausted and gave way together.
+There were indeed moments, intervals in the fits of hysteric tears
+and acute mental torture, when she lay quite still in her chair and
+vaguely asked herself what it all meant, but her disturbed consciousness
+gave no answer to the question, and presently her tears broke out afresh
+and she tossed wildly from side to side, or walked hurriedly up and down
+the room, wringing her hands in despair, sobbing aloud in her agony and
+again abandoning herself to the uncontrolled exaggerations of her grief
+and terror. One consolation alone presented itself at intervals to her
+confused intelligence; Mr. Juxon was safe. Whatever other fearful thing
+had happened, he was safe, saved perhaps by her warning--but what was
+that, if Walter had escaped death only to die at the hands of the
+hangman, or had found it in the jaws of that fearful bloodhound? What was
+the safety even of her best friend, if poor Nellie was to know that her
+father was alive, only to learn that he was to die again?
+
+But human suffering cannot outlast human strength; as a marvellous
+adjustment of forces has ordered that even at the pole, in the regions of
+boundless and perpetual cold, the sea shall not freeze to the bottom, so
+there is also in human nature a point beyond which suffering cannot
+extend. The wildest emotions must expend themselves in time, the fiercest
+passions must burn out. At the end of two hours Mary Goddard was
+exhausted by the vehemence of her hysteric fear, and woke as from a dream
+to a dull sense of reality. She knew, now that some power of reflection
+was restored to her, that the squire would give her intelligence of what
+had happened, so soon as he was able, and she knew also that she must
+wait until the morning before any such message could reach her. She took
+the candle from the table and went upstairs. Nellie was asleep, but her
+mother felt a longing to look at her again that night, not knowing what
+misery for her child the morrow might bring forth.
+
+Nellie lay asleep in her bed, her rich brown hair plaited together and
+thrown back across the pillow. The long dark fringes of her eyelashes
+cast a shade upon the transparent colour of her cheek, and the light
+breath came softly through her parted lips. But as Mary Goddard looked
+she saw that there were still tears upon her lovely face and that the
+pillow was still wet. She had cried herself to sleep, for Martha had told
+her that her mother was very ill and would not see her that night; Nellie
+was accustomed to say her prayers at her mother's knee every evening
+before going to bed, she was used to having her mother smooth her pillow
+and kiss her and put out her light, leaving her with sweet words, to wake
+her with sweet words on the next morning, and to-night she had missed all
+this and had been told moreover that her mother was very ill and was
+acting very strangely. She had gone to bed and had cried herself to
+sleep, and the tears were still upon her cheeks. Shading the light
+carefully from the child's eyes, Mary Goddard bent down and kissed her
+forehead once and then feeling that her sorrow was rising again she
+turned and passed noiselessly from the room.
+
+But Nellie was dreaming peacefully and knew nothing of her mother's
+visit; she slept on not knowing that scarcely a quarter of a mile away
+her own father, whom she had been taught to think of as dead, was
+lying at the Hall, wounded and unconscious while half the detectives in
+the kingdom were looking for him. Had Nellie known that, her sleep would
+have been little and her dreams few.
+
+There was little rest at the Hall that night. When Reynolds had driven
+John back to the great house he found his way to the kitchen and got his
+beer, and he became at once a centre of interest, being overwhelmed with
+questions concerning the events of the evening. But he was able to say
+very little except that while waiting before the cottage he had heard
+strange noises from the park, that Master John had run up the avenue,
+that Mrs. Goddard had taken Miss Nellie into the house and had then
+insisted upon being driven towards the Hall, that they had met Master
+John and the squire and that Mrs. Goddard had been "took wuss."
+
+Meanwhile John entered the room where Mr. Juxon was watching over Walter
+Goddard. John looked pale and nervous; he had not recovered from the
+unpleasant sensation of being left alone with what he believed to be a
+dead body, in the struggling moonlight and the howling wind. He was by no
+means timid by nature, but young nerves are not so tough as old ones and
+he had felt exceedingly uncomfortable. He stood a moment within the room,
+then glanced at the bed and started with surprise.
+
+"Why--he is not dead after all!" he exclaimed, and going nearer he looked
+hard at Goddard's flushed face.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon, "he is not dead. He may be dying for all I know. I
+have sent for the doctor."
+
+"Was he much hurt?" asked John, still looking at the sick man. "He looks
+to me as though he were in a fever."
+
+"He does not seem so badly hurt. I cannot make it out at all. At first I
+thought he was badly frightened, but I cannot bring him to consciousness.
+Perhaps he has a fever, as you say. This is a most unpleasant experience,
+Mr. Short--your first night at the Hall, too. Of course I am bound to
+look after the man, as Stamboul did the damage--it would have served him
+right if he had been killed. It was a villainous blow he gave me--I can
+feel it still. The moral of it is that one should always wear a thick
+ulster when one walks alone at night."
+
+"I did not know he struck you," said John in some surprise.
+
+"Jumped out of the copse at the turning and struck at me with a
+bludgeon," said Mr. Juxon. "Knocked my hat off, into the bargain, and
+then ran away with Stamboul after him. If I had not come up in time
+there would have been nothing left of him."
+
+"I should say the dog saved your life," remarked John, much impressed by
+the squire's unadorned tale. "What object can the fellow have had in
+attacking you? Strange--his eyes are open, but he does not seem to
+understand us."
+
+Mr. Juxon walked to the bedside and contemplated the sick man's features
+with undisguised disgust.
+
+"You villain!" he said roughly. "Why don't you answer for yourself?" The
+man did not move, and the squire began to pace the room. John was struck
+by Mr. Juxon's tone: it was not like him, he thought, to speak in that
+way to a helpless creature. He could not understand it. There was a long
+silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Goddard.
+
+"Really, Mr. Short," said the squire at last, "I have no intention of
+keeping you up all night. The village doctor must have been out. It may
+be more than an hour before my man finds another."
+
+"Never mind," said John quietly. "I will wait till he comes at all
+events. You may need me before it is over."
+
+"Do you think he looks as if he were going to die?" asked the squire
+doubtfully, as he again approached the bedside.
+
+"I don't know," answered John, standing on the other side. "I never saw
+any one die. He looks very ill."
+
+"Very ill. I have seen many people die--but somehow I have a strong
+impression that this fellow will live."
+
+"Let us hope so," said John.
+
+"Well--" The squire checked himself. Probably the hope he would have
+expressed would not have coincided with that to which John had given
+utterance. "Well," he repeated, "I daresay he will. Mr. Short, are you at
+all nervous? Since you are so good as to say you will wait until the
+doctor comes, would you mind very much being left alone here for five
+minutes?"
+
+"No," answered John, stoutly, "not in the least." To be left in a
+well-lighted room by the bedside of Walter Goddard, ill indeed, but alive
+and breathing vigorously, was very different from being requested to
+watch his apparently dead body out in the park under the moonlight.
+
+With a word of thanks, the squire left the room, and hastened to his
+study, where he proceeded to write a note, as follows:--
+
+"MY DEAR MR. AMBROSE--The man we were speaking of yesterday morning
+actually attacked me this evening. Stamboul worried him badly, but he is
+not dead. He is lying here, well cared for, and I have sent for the
+doctor. If convenient to you, would you come in the morning? I need not
+recommend discretion.--Sincerely yours,
+
+"C.J. JUXON.
+_N.B._--I am not hurt."
+
+Having ascertained that Reynolds was still in the kitchen, the missive
+was given to the old man with an injunction to use all speed, as the
+vicar might be going to bed and the note was important.
+
+John, meanwhile, being left alone sat down near the wounded man's bed and
+waited, glancing at the flushed face and staring eyes from time to time,
+and wondering whether the fellow would recover. The young scholar had
+been startled by all that had occurred, and his ideas wandered back to
+the beginning of the evening, scarcely realising that a few hours ago he
+had not met Mrs. Goddard, had not experienced a surprising change in his
+feelings towards her, had not witnessed the strange scene under the
+trees. It seemed as though all these things had occupied a week at the
+very least, whereas on that same afternoon he had been speculating upon
+his meeting with Mrs. Goddard, calling up her features to his mind as he
+had last seen them, framing speeches which when the meeting came he had
+not delivered, letting his mind run riot in the delicious anticipation of
+appearing before her in the light of a successful competitor for one of
+the greatest honours of English scholarship. And yet in a few hours all
+his feelings were changed, and to his infinite surprise, were changed
+without any suffering to himself; he knew well that, for some reason,
+Mrs. Goddard had lost the mysterious power of making him blush, and of
+sending strange thrills through his whole nature when he sat at her side;
+with some justice he attributed his new indifference to the extraordinary
+alteration in her appearance, whereby she seemed now so much older than
+himself, and he forthwith moralised upon the mutability of human affairs,
+with all the mental fluency of a very young man whose affairs are still
+extremely mutable. He fell to musing on the accident in the park,
+wondering how he would have acted in Mr. Juxon's place, wondering
+especially what object could have led the wretched tramp to attack the
+squire, wondering too at the very great anxiety shown by Mrs. Goddard.
+
+As he sat by the bedside, the sick man suddenly moved and turning his
+eyes full upon John's face stared at him with a look of dazed surprise.
+He thrust out his wounded hand, bound up in a white handkerchief through
+which a little blood was slowly oozing, and to John's infinite surprise
+he spoke.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked in a strange, mumbling voice, as though he had
+pebbles in his mouth.
+
+John started forward in his chair and looked intently at Goddard's face.
+
+"My name is Short," he answered mechanically. But the passing flash of
+intelligence was already gone, and Goddard's look became a glassy and
+idiotic stare. Still his lips moved. John came nearer and listened.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" said the sick man quite
+intelligibly, in spite of his uncertain tone. John uttered an exclamation
+of astonishment; his heart beat fast and he listened intently. The sick
+man mumbled inarticulate sounds; not another word could be distinguished.
+John looked for the bell, thinking that Mr. Juxon should be informed of
+the strange phenomenon at once; but before he could ring the squire
+himself entered the room, having finished and despatched his note to Mr.
+Ambrose.
+
+"It is most extraordinary," said John. "He spoke just now--"
+
+"What did he say?" asked Mr. Juxon very quickly.
+
+"He said first, 'Who are you?' and then he said 'Mary Goddard, let me
+in!' Is it not most extraordinary? How in the world should he know
+about Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+The squire turned a little pale and was silent for a moment. He had left
+John with the wounded man feeling sure that, for some time at least, the
+latter would not be likely to say anything intelligible.
+
+"Most extraordinary!" he repeated presently. Then he looked at Goddard
+closely, and turned him again upon his back and put his injured hand
+beneath the sheet.
+
+"Do you understand me? Do you know who I am?" he asked in a loud tone
+close to his ear.
+
+But the unfortunate man gave no sign of intelligence, only his
+inarticulate mumbling grew louder though not more distinct. Mr. Juxon
+turned away impatiently.
+
+"The fellow is in a delirium," he said. "I wish the doctor would come."
+He had hardly turned his back when the man spoke again.
+
+"Mary Goddard!" he cried. "Let me in!"
+
+"There!" said John. "The same words!"
+
+Mr. Juxon shuddered, and looked curiously at his companion; then thrust
+his hands into his pockets and whistling softly walked about the room.
+John was shocked at what seemed in the squire a sort of indecent levity;
+he could not understand that his friend felt as though he should go mad.
+
+Indeed the squire suffered intensely. The name of Mary Goddard,
+pronounced by the convict in his delirium brought home more vividly than
+anything could have done the relation between the wounded tramp and the
+woman the squire loved. It was positively true, then--there was not a
+shadow of doubt left, since this wretch lay there mumbling her name in
+his ravings! This was the husband of that gentle creature with sad
+pathetic eyes, so delicate, so refined that it seemed as though the
+coarser breath of the world of sin and shame could never come near
+her--this was her husband! It was horrible. This was the father of lovely
+Nellie, too. Was anything wanting to make the contrast more hideous?
+
+Mr. Juxon felt that it was impossible to foresee what Walter Goddard
+might say in the course of another hour. He had often seen people in a
+delirium and knew how strangely that inarticulate murmuring sometimes
+breaks off into sudden incisive speech, astonishing every one who hears.
+The man had already betrayed that he knew Mary Goddard; at the next
+interval in his ravings he might betray that she was his wife. John was
+still standing by the bedside, not having recovered from his
+astonishment; if John heard any more, he would be in possession of Mrs.
+Goddard's secret. The squire was an energetic man, equal to most
+emergencies; he suddenly made up his mind.
+
+"Mr. Short," he said, "I will tell you something. You will see the
+propriety of being very discreet, in fact it is only to ensure your
+discretion that I wish to tell you this much. I have reason to believe
+that this fellow is a convict--do not be surprised--escaped from prison.
+He is a man who once--was in love with Mrs. Goddard, which accounts for
+his having found his way to Billingsfield. Yes--I know what you are going
+to say--Mrs. Goddard is aware of his presence, and that accounts for her
+excitement and her fainting. Do you understand?"
+
+"But--good heavens!" exclaimed John in amazement. "Why did she not give
+information, if she knew he was in the neighbourhood?"
+
+"That would be more than could be expected of any woman, Mr. Short. You
+forget that the man once loved her."
+
+"And how did you--well, no. I won't ask any questions."
+
+"No," said the squire, "please don't. You would be placing me in a
+disagreeable position. Not that I do not trust you implicitly, Mr.
+Short," he added frankly, "but I should be betraying a confidence. If
+this fellow dies here, he will be buried as an unknown tramp. I found no
+trace of a name upon his clothes. If he recovers, we will decide what
+course to pursue. We will do our best for him--it is a delicate case of
+conscience. Possibly the poor fellow would very much prefer being allowed
+to die; but we cannot let him. Humanity, for some unexplained reason,
+forbids euthanasia and the use of the hemlock in such cases."
+
+"Was he sentenced for a long time?" asked John, very much impressed by
+the gravity of the situation.
+
+"Twelve years originally, I believe. Aggravated by his escape and by his
+assault on me, his term might very likely be extended to twenty years if
+he were taken again."
+
+"That is to say, if he recovers?" inquired John.
+
+"Precisely. I do not think I would hesitate to send him back to prison if
+he recovered."
+
+"I do not wonder you think he would rather die here, if he were
+consulted," said John. "It would not be murder to let him die
+peacefully--"
+
+"In the opinion of the law it might be called manslaughter, though I do
+not suppose anything would be said if I had simply placed him here and
+omitted to call in a physician. He cannot live very long in this state,
+unless something is done for him immediately. Look at him."
+
+There was no apparent change in Goddard's condition. He lay upon his back
+staring straight upward and mumbling aloud with every breath he drew.
+
+"He must have been ill, before he attacked me," continued Mr. Juxon, very
+much as though he were talking to himself. "He evidently is in a raging
+fever--brain fever I should think. That is probably the reason why he
+missed his aim--that and the darkness. If he had been well he would have
+killed me fast enough with that bludgeon. As you say, Mr. Short, there is
+no doubt whatever that he would prefer to die here, if he had his choice.
+In my opinion, too, it would be far more merciful to him and to--to him
+in fact. Nevertheless, neither you nor I would like to remember that we
+had let him die without doing all we could to keep him alive. It is
+a very singular case."
+
+"Most singular," echoed John.
+
+"Besides--there is another thing. Suppose that he had attacked me as he
+did, but that I had killed him with my stick--or that Stamboul had made
+an end of him then and there. The law would have said it served him
+right--would it not? Of course. But if I had not quite killed him, or, as
+has actually happened, he survived the embraces of my dog, the law
+insists that I ought to do everything in my power to save the remnant of
+his life. What for? In order that the law may give itself the
+satisfaction of dealing with him according to its lights. I think the law
+is very greedy, I object to it, I think it is ridiculous from that point
+of view, but then, when I come to examine the thing I find that my own
+conscience tells me to save him, although I think it best that he should
+die. Therefore the law is not ridiculous. Pleasant dilemma--the
+impossible case! The law is at the same time ridiculous and not
+ridiculous. The question is, does the law deduce itself from conscience,
+or is conscience the direct result of existing law?"
+
+The squire appeared to be in a strangely moralising mood, and John
+listened to him with some surprise. He could not understand that the good
+man was talking to persuade himself, and to concentrate his faculties,
+which had been almost unbalanced by the events of the evening.
+
+"I think," said John with remarkable good sense, "that the instinct of
+man is to preserve life when he is calm. When a man is fighting with
+another he is hot and tries to kill his enemy; when the fight is over,
+the natural instinct returns."
+
+"The only thing worth knowing in such cases is the precise point at which
+the fight may be said to be over. I once knew a young surgeon in India
+who thought he had killed a cobra and proceeded to extract the fangs in
+order to examine the poison. Unfortunately the snake was not quite dead;
+he bit the surgeon in the finger and the poor fellow died in
+thirty-five minutes."
+
+"Dreadful!" said John. "But you do not think this poor fellow could do
+anything very dangerous now--do you?"
+
+"Oh, dear me, no!" returned the squire. "I was only stating a case to
+prove that one is sometimes justified in going quite to the end of a
+fight. No indeed! He will not be dangerous for some time, if he ever is
+again. But, as I was saying, he must have been ill some time. Delirium
+never comes on in this way, so soon--"
+
+Some one knocked at the door. It was Holmes, who came to say that the
+physician, Doctor Longstreet, had arrived.
+
+"Oh--it is Doctor Longstreet is it?" said the squire. "Ask him to come
+up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Doctor Longstreet was not the freethinking physician of Billingsfield.
+The latter was out when Mr. Juxon's groom went in search of him, and the
+man had driven on to the town, six miles away. The doctor was an old man
+with a bright eye, a deeply furrowed forehead, a bald head and clean
+shaved face. He walked as though his frame were set together with springs
+and there was a curious snapping quickness in his speech. He seemed full
+of vitality and bore his years with a jaunty air of merriment which
+inspired confidence, for he seemed perpetually laughing at the ills of
+the flesh and ready to make other people laugh at them too. But his
+bright eyes had a penetrating look and though he judged quickly he
+generally was right in his opinion. He entered the room briskly, not
+knowing that the sick man was there.
+
+"Now, Mr. Juxon," he said cheerfully, "I am with you." He had the habit
+of announcing his presence in this fashion, as though his brisk and
+active personality were likely to be overlooked. A moment later he caught
+sight of the bed. "Dear me," he added in a lower voice, "I did not know
+our patient was here."
+
+He went to Walter Goddard's side, looked at him attentively, felt his
+pulse, and his forehead, glanced at the bandages the squire had roughly
+put upon his throat and hand, drew up the sheet again beneath his chin
+and turned sharply round.
+
+"Brain fever, sir," he said cheerfully. "Brain fever. You must get some
+ice and have some beef tea made as soon as possible. He is in a very
+bad way--curious, too; he looks like a cross between a ticket of leave
+man and a gentleman. Tramp, you say? That would not prevent his being
+either. You cannot disturb him--don't be afraid. He hears nothing--is
+off, the Lord knows where, raving delirious. Must look to his scratches
+though--dangerous--inflammation. Do you mind telling me what
+happened--how long he has been here?"
+
+The squire in a few words informed Doctor Longstreet of the attack made
+upon him in the park. The doctor looked at his watch.
+
+"Only two hours and a half since," he remarked. "It is just midnight now,
+very good--the man must have been in a fever all day--yesterday, too,
+perhaps. He is not badly hurt by the dog--like to see that dog, if you
+don't mind--the fright most likely sent him into delirium. You have
+nothing to accuse yourself of, Mr. Juxon: it was certainly not your
+fault. Even if the dog had not bitten him, he would most likely have been
+in his present state by this time. Would you mind sending for some ice at
+once? Thank you. It was very lucky for the fellow that he attacked you
+just when he did--secured him the chance of being well taken care of. If
+he had gone off like this in the park he would have been dead before
+morning."
+
+The squire rang and sent for the ice the doctor demanded.
+
+"Do you think he will live?" he asked nervously.
+
+"I don't know," answered Doctor Longstreet, frankly. "Nobody can tell. He
+is very much exhausted--may live two or three days in this state and then
+die or go to sleep and get well--may die in the morning--often do--cannot
+say. With a great deal of care, I think he has a chance."
+
+"I am very anxious to save him," said the squire, looking hard at the
+physician.
+
+"Very good of you, I am sure," replied Doctor Longstreet, cheerfully. "It
+is not everybody who would take so much trouble for a tramp. Of course if
+he dies people will say your dog killed him; but I will sign a paper to
+the effect that it is not true. If he had left you and your dog alone, he
+would have been dead in the morning to an absolute certainty."
+
+"How very extraordinary!" exclaimed the squire, suddenly realising that
+instead of causing the man's death Stamboul had perhaps saved his life.
+
+"It was certainly very odd that he should have chosen the best moment for
+assaulting you," continued the doctor. "It is quite possible that even
+then he was under some delusion--took you for somebody else--some old
+enemy. People do queer things in a brain fever. By the bye has he said
+anything intelligible since he has been here?"
+
+John Short who had been standing silently by the bedside during the whole
+interview looked up quickly at the squire, wondering how he would answer.
+But Mr. Juxon did not hesitate.
+
+"Yes. Twice he repeated a woman's name. That is very natural, I suppose.
+Do you think he will have any lucid moments for some time?"
+
+"May," said the doctor, "may. When he does it is likely to be at the
+turning point; he will either die or be better very soon after. If it
+comes soon he may say something intelligible. If he is much more
+exhausted than he is now, he will understand you, but you will not
+understand him. Meningitis always brings a partial paralysis of the
+tongue, when the patient is exhausted. Most probably he will go on
+moaning and mumbling, as he does now, for another day. You will be able
+to tell by his eye whether he understands anything; perhaps he will make
+some sign with his head or hand. Ah--here is the ice."
+
+Doctor Longstreet went about his operations in a rapid and business like
+fashion and John gave what assistance he could. The squire stood leaning
+against the chimney-piece in deep thought.
+
+Indeed he had enough to think of, when he had fully weighed the meaning
+of the doctor's words. He was surprised beyond measure at the turn things
+had taken; for although, as he had previously told John, he suspected
+that Goddard must have been in a fever for several hours before the
+assault, it had not struck him that Stamboul's attack had been absolutely
+harmless, still less that it might prove to have been the means of saving
+the convict's life. It was terribly hard to say that he desired to save
+the man, and yet the honest man in his heart prayed that he might really
+hope for that result. It would be far worse, should Goddard die, to
+remember that he had wished for his death. But it would be hard to
+imagine a more unexpected position than that in which the squire found
+himself; by a perfectly natural chain of circumstances he was now tending
+with the utmost care the man who had tried to murder him, and who of all
+men in the world, stood most in the way of the accomplishment of his
+desires.
+
+He could not hide from himself the fact that he hated the sick man, even
+though he hoped, or tried to hope for his recovery. He hated him for the
+shame and suffering he had brought upon Mary Goddard in the first
+instance, for the terrible anxiety he had caused her by his escape and
+sudden appearance at her house; he hated him for being what he was, being
+also the father of Nellie, and he hated him honestly for his base attempt
+upon himself that night. He had good cause to hate him, and perhaps he
+was not ashamed of his hatred. To be called upon, however, to return good
+for such an accumulated mass of evil was almost too much for his human
+nature. It was but a faint satisfaction to think that if he recovered he
+was to be sent back to prison. Mr. Juxon did not know that there was
+blood upon the man's hands--he had yet to learn that; he would not deign
+to mention the assault in the park when he handed him over to the
+authorities; the man should simply go back to Portland to suffer the term
+of his imprisonment, as soon as he should be well enough to be moved--if
+that time ever came. If he died, he should be buried decently in a
+nameless grave, "six feet by four, by two," as Thomas Reid would have
+said--if he died.
+
+Meanwhile, however, there was yet another consideration which disturbed
+the squire's meditations. Mrs. Goddard had a right to know that her
+husband was dying and, if she so pleased, she had a right to be at his
+bedside. But at the same time it would be necessary so to account for her
+presence as not to arouse Doctor Longstreet's suspicions, nor the
+comments of Holmes, the butler, and of his brigade in the servants' hall.
+It was no easy matter to do this unless Mrs. Goddard were accompanied by
+the vicar's wife, the excellent and maternally minded Mrs. Ambrose. To
+accomplish this it would be necessary to ask the latter lady to spend a
+great part of her time at the Hall in taking care of the wretched
+Goddard, who would again be the gainer. But Mrs. Ambrose was as yet
+ignorant of the fact that he had escaped from prison; she must be told
+then, and an effort must be made to elicit her sympathy. Perhaps she and
+the vicar would come and stop a few days, thought the squire. Mrs.
+Goddard might then come and go as she pleased. Her presence by her
+husband's bedside would then be accounted for on the ground of her
+charitable disposition.
+
+While Mr. Juxon was revolving these things in his mind he watched the
+doctor and John who were doing what was necessary for the sick man.
+Goddard moaned helplessly with every breath, in a loud, monotonous tone,
+very wearing to the nerves of those who heard it.
+
+"There is little to be done," said Doctor Longstreet at last. "He must be
+fed--alternately a little beef tea and then a little weak brandy and
+water. We must try and keep the system up. That is his only chance. I
+will prescribe something and send it back by the groom."
+
+"You are not going to leave us to-night?" exclaimed the squire in alarm.
+
+"Must. Very sorry. Bad case of diphtheria in town--probably die before
+morning, unless I get there in time--I would not have come here for any
+one else. I will certainly be here before ten--he will live till then, I
+fancy, and I don't believe there will be any change in his condition.
+Good-night, Mr. Juxon--beef tea and brandy every quarter of an hour.
+Good-night, Mr.--" he turned to John.
+
+"Short," said John. "Good-night, doctor."
+
+"Ah--I remember--used to be with Mr. Ambrose--yes. Delighted to meet you
+again, Mr. Short--good-night."
+
+The doctor vanished, before either the squire or John had time to follow
+him. His departure left an unpleasant sense of renewed responsibility in
+the squire's mind.
+
+"You had better go to bed, Mr. Short," he said kindly. "I will sit up
+with him."
+
+But John would not hear of any such arrangement; he insisted upon bearing
+his share of the watching and stoutly refused to leave the squire alone.
+There was a large dressing-room attached to the room where Goddard was
+lying; the squire and John finally agreed to watch turn and turn about,
+one remaining with Goddard, while the other rested upon the couch in the
+dressing-room aforesaid. The squire insisted upon taking his watch first,
+and John lay down. It was past midnight and he was very tired, but it
+seemed impossible to sleep with the sound of that loud, monotonous
+mumbling perpetually in his ears. It was a horrible night, and John Short
+never forgot it so long as he lived. Years afterwards he could not enter
+the room where Goddard had lain without fancying he heard that perpetual
+groaning still ringing in his ears. For many hours it continued unabated
+and unchanging, never dying away to silence nor developing to articulate
+words. From time to time John could hear the squire's step as he moved
+about, administering the nourishment prescribed. If he had had the
+slightest idea of Mr. Juxon's state of mind he would hardly have left him
+even to rest awhile in the next room.
+
+Fortunately the squire's nerves were solid. A firm constitution hardened
+by thirty years of seafaring and by the consistent and temperate
+regularity which was part of his character, had so toughened his natural
+strength as to put him almost beyond the reach of mortal ills; otherwise
+he must have broken down under the mental strain thus forced upon him. It
+is no light thing to do faithfully the utmost to save a man one has good
+reason to hate, and whose death would be an undoubted blessing to every
+one who has anything to do with him. Walter Goddard was to Charles Juxon
+at once an enemy, an obstacle and a rival; an enemy, for having attempted
+his life, an obstacle, because while he lived he prevented the squire
+from marrying Mrs. Goddard and a rival because she had once loved him and
+for the sake of that love was still willing to sacrifice much for him.
+And yet the very fact that she had loved him made it easier to be kind to
+him; it seemed to the squire that, after all, in taking care of Goddard
+he was in some measure serving her, too, seeing that she would have done
+the same thing herself could she have been present.
+
+Yet there was something very generous and large-hearted in the way
+Charles Juxon did his duty by the sick man. There are people who seem by
+nature designed to act heroic parts in life, whose actions habitually
+take an heroic form, and whose whole character is of another stamp from
+that of average humanity. Of such people much is expected, because they
+seem to offer much; no one is surprised to hear of their making great
+sacrifices, no one is astonished if they exhibit great personal courage
+in times of danger. Very often they are people of large vanity, whose
+chiefest vanity is not to seem vain; gifted with great powers and always
+seeking opportunities of using them, holding high ideas upon most
+subjects but rarely conceiving themselves incapable of attaining to any
+ideal they select for their admiration; brave in combat partly from real
+courage, partly, as I have often heard officers say of a dandy soldier in
+the ranks, because they are too proud to run away; but, on the whole,
+heroic by temperament and in virtue of a singular compound of pride,
+strength and virtue, often accomplishing really great things. They are
+almost always what are called striking people, for their pride and their
+strength generally attract attention by their magnitude, and something in
+their mere appearance distinguishes them from the average mass.
+
+But Charles Juxon did not in any way belong to this type, any more than
+the other persons who found themselves concerned in the events which
+culminated in Goddard's illness. He was a very simple man whose pride was
+wholly unconscious, who did not believe himself destined to do anything
+remarkable, who regarded his own personality as rather uninteresting and
+who, had he been asked about himself, would have been the first to
+disclaim any sentiments of the heroic kind. With very little imagination,
+he possessed great stability himself and great belief in the stability of
+things in general, a character of the traditional kind known as
+"northern," though it would be much more just to describe it as the
+"temperate" or "central" type of man. Wherever there is exaggeration in
+nature, there is exaggerated imagination in man. The solid and
+unimaginative part of the English character is undeniably derived from
+the Angles or from the Flemish; it is morally the best part, but it is by
+all odds the least interesting--it is found in the type of man belonging
+to the plains in a temperate zone, who differs in every respect from the
+real northman, his distant cousin and hereditary enemy. If Charles Juxon
+was remarkable for anything it was for his modesty and reticence, in a
+word, for his apparent determination not to be remarkable at all.
+
+And now, in the extremest anxiety and difficulty, his character served
+him well; for he unconsciously refused to allow to himself that his
+position was extraordinary or his responsibility greater than he was
+able to bear. He disliked intensely the idea of being put forward or
+thrust into a dramatic situation, and he consequently failed signally to
+fulfil the dramatic necessities. There was not even a struggle in his
+heart between the opposite possibilities of letting Goddard die, by
+merely relaxing his attention, and of redoubling his care and bringing
+about his recovery. He never once asked himself, after the chances of the
+patient surviving the fever were stated, whether he would not be
+justified in sending for some honest housewife from the village to take
+care of the tramp instead of looking to his wants himself. He simply did
+his best to save the man's life, without hesitation, without suspecting
+that he was doing anything extraordinary, doing, as he had always done,
+the best thing that came in his way according to the best of his ability.
+He could not wholly suppress the reflection that much good might ensue
+from Goddard's death, but the thought never for a moment interfered with
+his efforts to save the convict alive.
+
+But John lay in the next room, kept awake by the sick man's perpetual
+groaning and by the train of thought which ran through his brain. There
+were indeed more strange things than his philosophy could account for,
+but the strangest of all was that the squire should know who the tramp
+was; he must know it, John thought, since he knew all about him, his
+former love for Mrs. Goddard and his recent presence in the
+neighbourhood. The young man's curiosity was roused to its highest pitch,
+and he longed to know more. He at once guessed that there must have
+been much intimate confidence between Mr. Juxon and Mrs. Goddard; he
+suspected moreover that there must be some strange story connected with
+her, something which accounted for the peculiar stamp of a formerly
+luxurious life which still clung to her, and which should explain her
+residence in Billingsfield But John was very far from suspecting the real
+truth.
+
+His mind was restless and the inaction became intolerable to him. He rose
+at last and went again into the room where his friend was watching. Mr.
+Juxon sat by the bedside, the very picture of patience, one leg crossed
+over the other and his hands folded together upon his knee, his face
+paler than usual but perfectly calm, his head bent a little to one side
+and his smooth hair, which had been slightly ruffled in the encounter in
+the park, as smooth as ever. It was a very distinctive feature of him; it
+was part of the sleek and spotless neatness which Mrs. Ambrose so much
+admired.
+
+"It is my turn, now," said John. "Will you lie down for a couple of
+hours?"
+
+The squire rose. Being older and less excitable than John, he was
+beginning to feel the need of rest. People who have watched often by the
+sick know how terribly long are those hours of the night between three
+o'clock and dawn; long always, but seeming interminable when one is
+obliged to listen perpetually to a long-drawn, inarticulate moaning, a
+constant effort to speak which never results in words.
+
+"You are very good," said Mr. Juxon, quietly. "If you will give him the
+things from time to time, I will take a nap."
+
+With that he went and lay down upon the couch, and in three minutes was
+as sound asleep as though he were in bed. John sat by the sick man and
+looked at his flushed features and listened to the hard-drawn breath
+followed each time by that terrible, monotonous, mumbling groan.
+
+It might have been three-quarters of an hour since the squire had gone to
+sleep when John thought he saw a change in Goddard's face; it seemed to
+him that the flush subsided from his forehead, very slowly, leaving only
+a bright burning colour in his cheeks. His eyes seemed suddenly to grow
+clearer and a strange look of intelligence came into them; his whole
+appearance was as though illuminated by a flash of some light different
+from that of the candles which burned upon the table. John rose to his
+feet and came and looked at him. The groaning suddenly ceased and
+Goddard's eyelids, which had been motionless for hours, moved naturally.
+He appeared to be observing John's face attentively.
+
+"Where is the squire?" he asked quite naturally--so naturally that John
+was startled.
+
+"Asleep in the next room," replied the latter.
+
+"I did not kill him after all," said Goddard, turning himself a little as
+though to be more at his ease.
+
+"No," answered John. "He is not hurt at all. Can you tell me who you
+are?" For his life, he could not help asking the question. It seemed so
+easy to find out who the fellow was, now that he could speak
+intelligibly. But Goddard's face contracted suddenly, in a hideous smile.
+
+"Don't you wish you knew?" he said roughly. "But I know you, my boy, I
+know you--ha! ha! There's no getting away from you, my boy, is there?"
+
+"Who am I?" asked John in astonishment.
+
+"You are the hangman," said Goddard. "I know you very well. The hangman
+is always so well dressed. I say, old chap, turn us off quick, you
+know--no fumbling about the bolt. Look here--I like your face," he
+lowered his voice--"there are nearly sixty pounds in my right-hand
+trouser pocket--there are--Mary--ah--gave--M--a--"
+
+Again his eyes fixed themselves and the moaning began and continued. John
+was horror-struck and stood for a moment gazing at his face, over which
+the deep flush had spread once more, seeming to obliterate all appearance
+of intelligence. Then the young man put his hand beneath Goddard's head
+and gently replaced him in his former position, smoothing the pillows,
+and giving him a little brandy. He debated whether or not he should call
+the squire from his rest to tell him what had happened, but seeing that
+Goddard had now returned to his former state, he supposed such moments of
+clear speech were to be expected from time to time. He sat down again,
+and waited; then after a time he went to the window and looked anxiously
+for the dawn. It seemed an intolerably long night.
+
+But the day came at last and shed a ghastly grey tinge upon the
+sick-room, revealing as it were the outlines of all that was bad to look
+at, which the warm yellow candle-light had softened with a kindlier
+touch. John accidentally looked at himself in the mirror as he passed and
+was startled at his own pale face; but the convict, labouring in the
+ravings of his fever, seemed unconscious of the dawning day; he was not
+yet exhausted and his harsh voice never ceased its jarring gibber. John
+wondered whether he should ever spend such a night again, and shuddered
+at the recollection of each moment.
+
+The daylight waked the squire from his slumbers, however, and before the
+sun was up he came out of the dressing-room, looking almost as fresh as
+though nothing had happened to him in the night. Accustomed for years to
+rise at all hours, in all weathers, unimpressionable, calm and strong, he
+seemed superior to the course of events.
+
+"Well, Mr. Short, you allowed me a long nap. You must be quite worn out,
+I should think. How is the patient?"
+
+John told what had occurred.
+
+"Took you for the hangman, did he?" said the squire. "I wonder why--but
+you say he asked after me very sensibly?"
+
+"Quite so. It was when I asked him his own name, that he began raving
+again," answered John innocently.
+
+"What made you ask him that?" asked Mr. Juxon, who did not seem pleased.
+
+"Curiosity," was John's laconic answer.
+
+"Yes--but I fancy it frightened him. If I were you I would not do it
+again, if he has a lucid moment. I imagine it was fright that made him
+delirious in the first instance."
+
+"All right," quoth John. "I won't." But he made his own deductions. The
+squire evidently knew who he was, and did not want John to know, for some
+unexplained reason. The young man wondered what the reason could be; the
+mere name of the wretched man was not likely to convey any idea to his
+mind, for it was highly improbable that he had ever met him before his
+conviction. So John departed to his own room and refreshed himself with
+a tub, while the squire kept watch by daylight.
+
+It was not yet eight o'clock when Holmes brought a note from the vicar,
+which Mr. Juxon tore open and read with anxious interest.
+
+"MY DEAR MR. JUXON--I received your note late last night, but I judged it
+better to answer this morning, not wishing to excite suspicion by sending
+to you at so late an hour. The intelligence is indeed alarming and you
+will, I daresay, understand me, when I tell you that I found it necessary
+to communicate it to Mrs. Ambrose--"
+
+The squire could not refrain from smiling at the vicar's way of putting
+the point; but he read quickly on.
+
+"She however--and I confess my surprise and gratification--desires to
+accompany me to the Hall this morning, volunteering to take all possible
+care of the unfortunate man. As she has had much experience in visiting
+the sick, I fancy that she will render us very valuable assistance in
+saving his life. Pray let me know if the plan has your approval, as it
+may be dangerous to lose time.--Yours sincerely,
+
+"AUGUSTIN AMBROSE."
+
+Mr. Juxon was delighted to find that the difficult task of putting Mrs.
+Ambrose in possession of the facts of the case had been accomplished in
+the ordinary, the very ordinary, course of events by her own
+determination to find out what was to be known. In an hour she might be
+at Goddard's bedside, and Mrs. Goddard would be free to see her husband.
+He despatched a note at once and redoubled his attentions to the sick man
+whose condition, however, showed no signs of changing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Mrs. Ambrose kept her word and arrived with the vicar before nine
+o'clock, protesting her determination to take care of poor Goddard, so
+long as he needed any care. Mr. Juxon warned her that John did not know
+who the man was, and entreated her to be careful of her speech when John
+was present. There was no reason why John should ever know anything more
+about it, he said; three could keep a secret, but no one knew whether
+four could be as discreet.
+
+The squire took Mrs. Ambrose and her husband to Goddard's room and
+telling her that Doctor Longstreet was expected in an hour, by which time
+he himself hoped to have returned, he left the two good people in charge
+of the sick man and went to see Mrs. Goddard. He sent John a message to
+the effect that all was well and that he should take some rest while the
+Ambroses relieved the watch, and having thus disposed his household he
+went out, bound upon one of the most disagreeable errands he had ever
+undertaken. But he set his teeth and walked boldly down the park.
+
+At the turn of the avenue he paused, at the spot where Goddard had
+attacked him. There was nothing to be seen at first, for the road was
+hard and dry and there was no trace of the scuffle; but as the squire
+looked about he spied his hat, lying in the ditch, and picked it up. It
+was heavy with the morning dew and the brim was broken and bent where
+Goddard's weapon had struck it. Hard by in a heap of driven oak leaves
+lay the weapon itself, which Mr. Juxon examined curiously. It was a
+heavy piece of hewn oak, evidently very old, and at one end a thick iron
+spike was driven through, the sharp point projecting upon one side and
+the wrought head upon the other. He turned it over in his hands and
+realised that he had narrowly escaped his death. Then he laid the hat and
+the club together and threw a handful of leaves over them, intending to
+take them to the Hall at a later hour, and he turned to go upon his way
+towards the cottage. But as he turned he saw two men coming towards him,
+and now not twenty yards away. His heart sank, for one of the two was
+Thomas Gall the village constable; the other was a quiet-looking
+individual with grey whiskers, plainly dressed and unassuming in
+appearance. Instinctively the squire knew that Gall's companion must be a
+detective. He was startled, and taken altogether unawares; but the men
+were close upon him and there was nothing to be done but to face them
+boldly.
+
+Gall made his usual half military salute as he came up, and the man in
+plain clothes raised his hat politely.
+
+"The gentleman from Lunnon, sir," said Gall by way of introduction,
+assuming an air of mysterious importance.
+
+"Yes?" said Mr. Juxon interrogatively. "Do you wish to speak to me?"
+
+"The gentleman's come on business, sir. In point of fact, sir, it's the
+case we was speakin' of lately."
+
+The squire knew very well what was the matter. Indeed, he had wondered
+that the detective had not arrived sooner. That did not make it any
+easier to receive him, however; on the contrary, if he had come on the
+previous day matters would have been much simpler.
+
+"Very well, Gall," answered Mr. Juxon. "I am much obliged to you for
+bringing Mr.--" he paused and looked at the man in plain clothes.
+
+"Booley, sir," said the detective.
+
+"Thank you--yes--for bringing Mr. Booley so far. You may go home, Gall.
+If we need your services we will send to your house."
+
+"It struck me, sir," remarked Gall with a bland smile, "as perhaps I
+might be of use--prefeshnal in fact, sir."
+
+"I will send for you," said the detective, shortly. The manners of the
+rural constabulary had long ceased to amuse him.
+
+Gall departed rather reluctantly, but to make up for being left out of
+the confidential interview which was to follow, he passed his thumb round
+his belt and thrust out his portly chest as he marched down the avenue.
+He subsequently spoke very roughly to a little boy who was driving an old
+sheep to the butcher's at the other end of the village.
+
+Mr. Juxon and the detective turned back and walked slowly towards the
+Hall.
+
+"Will you be good enough to state exactly what the business is," said the
+squire, well knowing that it was best to go straight to the point.
+
+"You are Mr. Juxon, I believe?" inquired Mr. Booley looking at his
+companion sharply. The squire nodded. "Very good, Mr. Juxon," continued
+the official. "I am after a man called Walter Goddard. Do you know
+anything about him? His wife, Mrs. Mary Goddard, lives in this village."
+
+"Walter Goddard is at this moment in my house," said the squire calmly.
+"I know all about him. He lay in wait for me at this very spot last night
+and attacked me. My dog pulled him down."
+
+The detective was somewhat surprised at the intelligence, and at the cool
+manner in which his companion conveyed it.
+
+"I am very glad to hear that. In that case I will take him at once."
+
+"I fear that is impossible," answered the squire. "The man is raving in
+the delirium of a brain fever. Meanwhile I shall be glad if you will stay
+in the house, until he is well enough to be moved. The doctor will be
+here at ten o'clock, and he will give you the details of the case better
+than I can. It would be quite impossible to take him away at present."
+
+"May I ask," inquired Mr. Booley severely, "why you did not inform the
+local police?"
+
+"Because it would have been useless. If he had escaped after attacking
+me, I should have done so. But since I caught him, and found him to be
+very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him
+myself. Mrs. Goddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her
+story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do
+her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also
+acquainted with the circumstances, is at this moment taking care of the
+sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the
+Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient
+guarantee--"
+
+"Oh, there is no question of guarantee," said Mr. Booley. "I assure you,
+Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best.
+Can you tell me how long Goddard has been in the neighbourhood?"
+
+The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate
+Mrs. Goddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not
+positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else
+had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that Goddard
+could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the
+capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him.
+
+"That is doubtful," said the squire. "When I left him just now he was
+quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a
+time might kill him outright."
+
+"It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man," remarked
+Mr. Booley. "Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the
+servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. Goddard, too."
+
+"That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house,
+now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps
+tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her
+very much."
+
+"Well, well, we will see about it," answered Mr. Booley. They reached the
+house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to
+wait for his return.
+
+It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the
+position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the
+house waiting to carry off Goddard, so soon as he should be well enough
+to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The
+longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time
+unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. Goddard of Booley's arrival.
+He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing
+her to her husband's bedside.
+
+He found her waiting for him, and was struck by the calmness she
+displayed. To tell the truth the violence of her emotions had been wholly
+expended on the previous night and the reaction had brought an intense
+melancholy quiet, which almost frightened Mr. Juxon. The habit of bearing
+great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well
+learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as
+though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent
+suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account
+of what had happened.
+
+"You are not hurt?" she asked, almost incredulously. Her eyes rested on
+her friend's face with a wistful look.
+
+"No, I assure you, not in the least," he said. "But your poor husband is
+very ill--very ill indeed."
+
+"Tell me," said she quietly, "is he dead? Are you trying to break it to
+me?"
+
+"No--no indeed. He is alive--he may even recover. But that is very
+uncertain. It might be best to wait until the doctor has been again. I
+will come back and fetch you--"
+
+"Oh, no, I will go at once. I would like to walk. It will do me good."
+
+So the two set out without further words upon their errand. Mr. Juxon had
+purposely omitted to speak of Mr. Booley's arrival. It would be easy, he
+thought, to prevent them from meeting in the great house.
+
+"Do you know," said Mary Goddard, as they walked together, "it is very
+hard to wish that he may recover--" she stopped short.
+
+"Very hard," answered the squire. "His life must be one of misery, if he
+lives."
+
+"Of course you would send him back?" she asked nervously.
+
+"My dear friend, there is no other course open to me. Your own safety
+requires it."
+
+"God knows--you would only be doing right," she said and was silent
+again. She knew, though the squire did not, what fate awaited Walter
+Goddard if he were given up to justice. She knew that he had taken life
+and must pay the penalty. Yet she was very calm; her senses were all
+dulled and yet her thoughts seemed to be consecutive and rational. She
+realised fully that the case of life and death was ill balanced; death
+had it which ever course events might take, and she could not save her
+husband. She thought of it calmly and calmly hoped that he might die now,
+in his bed, with her by his side. It was a better fate.
+
+"You say that the doctor thinks he must have been ill some time?" she
+asked after a time.
+
+"Yes--he was quite sure of it," answered the squire.
+
+"Perhaps that was why he spoke so roughly to me," she said in a low
+voice, as though speaking to herself.
+
+The tears came into the squire's eyes for sheer pity. Even in this utmost
+extremity the unhappy woman tried to account for her husband's rude and
+cruel speech. Mr. Juxon did not answer but looked away. They passed the
+spot where the scuffle had occurred on the previous night, but still he
+said nothing, fearing to disturb her by making his story seem too vividly
+real.
+
+"Where is he?" she asked as they reached the Hall, looking up at the
+windows.
+
+"On the other side."
+
+They went in and mounted the stairs towards the sick man's chamber. Mr.
+Juxon went in, leaving Mrs. Goddard outside for a moment. She could
+hear that hideous rattling monotonous moan, and she trembled from head to
+foot. Presently Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose came out, looking very grave and
+passed by her with a look of sympathy.
+
+"Will you come in?" said the squire in a low voice.
+
+Mrs. Goddard entered the room quickly. On seeing her husband, she uttered
+a low cry and laid her hand upon Mr. Juxon's arm. For some seconds she
+stood thus, quite motionless, gazing with intense and sympathetic
+interest at the sick man's face. Then she went to his side and laid her
+hand upon his burning forehead and looked into his eyes.
+
+"Walter! Walter!" she cried. "Don't you know me? Oh, why does he groan
+like that? Is he suffering?" she asked turning to Mr. Juxon.
+
+"No--I do not think he suffers much. He is quite unconscious. He is
+talking all the time but cannot pronounce the words."
+
+The squire stood at a distance looking on, noting the womanly
+thoughtfulness Mrs. Goddard displayed as she smoothed her husband's
+pillow and tried to settle his head more comfortably upon the bags of
+ice; and all the while she never took her eyes from Goddard's face, as
+though she were fascinated by her own sorrow and his suffering. She moved
+about the bed with that instinctive understanding of sickness which
+belongs to delicate women, but her glance never strayed to Mr. Juxon; she
+seemed forced by a mysterious magnetism to look at Walter and only at
+him.
+
+"Has he been long like this?" she asked.
+
+"Ever since last night. He called you once--he said, 'Mary Goddard, let
+me in!' And then he said something else--he said--I cannot remember what
+he said." Mr. Juxon checked himself, remembering the words John had
+heard, and of which he only half understood the import. But Mrs. Goddard
+hardly noticed his reply.
+
+"Will you leave me alone with him?" she said presently. "There is a bell
+in the room--I could ring if anything--happened," she added with mournful
+hesitation.
+
+"Certainly," answered the squire. "Only, I beg of you my dear friend--do
+not distress yourself needlessly--"
+
+"Needlessly!" she repeated with a sorrowful smile. "It is all I can do
+for him--to watch by his side. He will not live--he will not live, I am
+sure."
+
+The squire inwardly prayed that she might be right, and left her alone
+with the sick man. Who, he thought, was better fitted, who had a stronger
+right to be at his bedside at such a time? If only he might die! For if
+he lived, how much more terrible would the separation be, when Booley the
+detective came to conduct him back to his prison! In truth, it would be
+more terrible even than Mr. Juxon imagined.
+
+Meanwhile he must go and see to the rest of the household. He must speak
+to John Short; he must see Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, and he must take
+precautions against any of them seeing Mr. Booley. This was, he thought,
+very important, and he resolved to speak with the latter first. John was
+probably asleep, worn out with the watching of the night.
+
+Mr. Booley sat in the squire's study where he had been left almost an
+hour earlier. He had installed himself in a comfortable corner by the
+fire and was reading the morning paper which he had found unopened upon
+the table. He seemed thoroughly at home as he sat there, a pair of
+glasses upon his nose and his feet stretched out towards the flame upon
+the hearth.
+
+"Thank you, I am doing very well, Mr. Juxon," he said as the squire
+entered.
+
+"Oh--I am very glad," answered Mr. Juxon politely. The information was
+wholly voluntary as he had not asked any question concerning the
+detective's comfort.
+
+"And how is the patient?" inquired Mr. Booley. "Do you think there is any
+chance of removing him this afternoon?"
+
+"This afternoon?" repeated the squire, in some astonishment. "The man is
+very ill. It may be weeks before he can be removed."
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated the other. "I was not aware of that. I cannot possibly
+stay so long. To-morrow, at the latest, he will have to go."
+
+"But, my dear sir," argued Mr. Juxon, "the thing is quite impossible. The
+doctor can testify to that--"
+
+"We are apt to be our own doctors in these cases," said Mr. Booley,
+calmly. "At all events he can be taken as far as the county gaol."
+
+"Upon my word, it would be murder to think of it--a man in a brain fever,
+in a delirium, to be taken over jolting roads--dear me! It is not to be
+thought of!"
+
+Mr. Booley smiled benignly, for the first time since the squire had made
+his acquaintance.
+
+"You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable," he
+observed.
+
+"Yes--no doubt--but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too."
+
+"Hardly, I should say," returned the detective coolly. "But since you are
+so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you
+whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable
+experience in that line."
+
+"You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes," replied the squire,
+shocked at the man's indifference and hardness.
+
+"It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or
+raving," objected Mr. Booley.
+
+"He might have a lucid moment just when you are there--the fright would
+very likely kill him."
+
+"That would decide the question of moving him," answered Booley, taking
+his glasses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet.
+"There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I
+would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it
+may be my duty to do so."
+
+The squire was beginning to be angry; even his calm temper was not proof
+against the annoyance caused by Mr. Booley's appearance at the Hall, but
+he wisely controlled himself and resorted to other means of persuasion.
+
+"There is a reason, Mr. Booley; indeed there are several very good
+reasons. One of them is that it might be fatal to frighten the man;
+another is that at this moment his wife is by his bedside. She has
+entirely made up her mind that when he is recovered he must return to
+prison, but at present it would be most unkind to let her know that you
+are in the house. The shock to her nerves would be terrible."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Booley, "if there is a lady in the case we must make some
+allowances, I presume. Only, put yourself in my place, Mr. Juxon, put
+yourself in my place."
+
+The squire doubted whether he would be willing to exchange his
+personality for that of Mr. Booley.
+
+"Well--what then?" he said. "I think I would try to be merciful."
+
+"Yes; but suppose that in being merciful, you just allowed that lady the
+time necessary to present her beloved husband with a convenient little
+pill, just to shorten his sufferings? And suppose that--"
+
+"Really, Mr. Booley, I think you make very unwarrantable suppositions,"
+said Mr. Juxon severely. "I cannot suppose any such thing."
+
+"Many women--ladies too--have done that to save a man from hanging,"
+returned Mr. Booley, fixing his grey eye on the squire.
+
+"Hanging?" repeated the latter in surprise. "But Goddard is not to be
+hanged."
+
+"Of course he is. What did you expect?" Mr. Booley looked surprised in
+his turn.
+
+"But--what for?" asked the squire very anxiously. "He has not killed
+anybody--"
+
+"Oh--then you don't know how he escaped?"
+
+"No--I have not the least idea--pray tell me."
+
+"I don't wonder you don't understand me, then," said Mr. Booley. "Well,
+it is a short tale but a lively one, as they say. Of course it stands to
+reason in the first place that he could not have got out of Portland. He
+was taken out for a purpose. You know that after his trial was over, all
+sorts of other things besides the forgery came out about him, proving
+that he was altogether a very bad lot. Now about three weeks ago there
+was a question of identifying a certain person--it was a very long story,
+with a bad murder case and all the rest of it--commonplace, you know the
+sort--never mind the story, it will all be in the papers before long when
+they have got it straight, which is more than I have, seeing that these
+affairs do get a little complicated occasionally, you know, as such
+things will." Mr. Booley paused. It was evident that his command of the
+English tongue was not equal to the strain of constructing a long
+sentence.
+
+"This person, whom he was to identify, was the person murdered?" inquired
+Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Exactly. It was not the person, but the person's body, so to say.
+Somebody who had been connected with the Goddard case was sure that if
+Goddard could be got out of prison he could do the identifying all
+straight. It did not matter about his being under sentence of hard
+labour--it was a private case, and the officer only wanted Goddard's
+opinion for his personal satisfaction. So he goes to the governor of
+Portland, and finds that Goddard had a very good character in that
+institution--he was a little bit of a gay deceiver, you see, and knew how
+to fetch the chaps in there and particularly the parson. So he had a good
+character. Very good. The governor consents to send him to town for this
+private job, under a strong force--that means three policemen--with irons
+on his hands. When they reached London they put him in a fourwheeler.
+Those things are done sometimes, and nobody is the wiser, because the
+governor does it on his own responsibility, for the good of the law, I
+suppose. I never approved of it. Do you follow me, Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered the squire. "He was driven from the station with
+three policemen in a hackney-coach, you say."
+
+"Exactly so. It was a queer place where the body was--away down in the
+Minories. Ever been there, Mr. Juxon? Queer place it is, and no mistake.
+I would like to show you some little bits of London. Well, as I was
+saying, the fourwheeler went along, with two policemen inside with
+Goddard and one on the box. Safe, you would say. Not a bit of it. Just
+the beggar's luck, too. It was dusk. That is always darker than when the
+lamps are well going. The fourwheeler ran into a dray-cart, round a
+corner where they were repairing the street. The horse went down with a
+smash, shafts, lamp, everything broken to smithereens, as they say. The
+policeman jumps off the box with the cabby to see what is the matter. One
+of the bobbies--the policemen I would say--it's a technical term, Mr.
+Juxon--gets out of the cab to see what's up, leaving Goddard in charge of
+the other. Then there is a terrific row; more carts come up, more
+fourwheelers--everybody swearing at once. Presently the policeman who
+had got out comes back and looks in to see if everything is straight. Not
+a bit of it again. Other door of the cab was open and--no Goddard. But
+the policeman was lying back in the corner and when they struck a light
+and looked, they found he was stone dead. Goddard had brained him with
+the irons on his wrists. No one ever saw him from that day to this. He
+must have known London well--they say he did, and he was a noted quick
+runner. Being nightfall and rather foggy as it generally is in those
+parts he got clear off. But he killed the man who had him in charge and
+if he lives he will have to swing for it. May be Mrs. Goddard does not
+know that---may be she does. That is the reason I don't want her to be
+left alone with him. No doubt she is very good and all that, but she
+might just take it into her head to save the government twenty feet of
+rope."
+
+"I am very much surprised, and very much shocked," said the squire
+gravely. "I had no idea of this. But I will answer for Mrs. Goddard.
+Why was all this never In the papers--or was there an account of it, Mr.
+Booley?"
+
+"Oh no--it was never mentioned. We felt sure that we should catch him and
+until we did we--I mean the profession--thought it just as well to say
+nothing. The governor remembered to have read a letter from Goddard's
+wife, just telling him where she was living, about two years ago. Being
+harmless, he passed it and never copied the address; then he could not
+remember it. At last they found it in his cell, hidden away somehow. The
+beggar had kept it."
+
+"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. In the silence which followed, the
+sound of wheels was heard outside. Doctor Longstreet had arrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+While Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were together in the library downstairs, while
+John Short was waking from the short sleep he had enjoyed, and while the
+squire was listening in the study to Mr. Booley's graphic account of the
+convict's escape, Mrs. Goddard was alone with her husband, watching every
+movement and listening intently to every moaning breath he drew.
+
+In the desperate anxiety for his fate, she forgot herself and seemed no
+longer to feel fatigue or exhaustion from all she herself had suffered.
+She stood long by his bedside, hoping that he might recognise her and yet
+fearing the moment when he should recover his senses. Then she noticed
+that the morning sun was pouring in through the window and she drew a
+curtain across, to shade his eyes from the glare. Whether the sudden
+changing of the light affected Goddard, as it does sometimes affect
+persons in the delirium of a brain fever, or whether it was only a
+natural turn in his condition, she never knew. His expression changed and
+acquired that same look of strange intelligence which John Short had
+noticed in the night; the flush sank from his forehead and gave place to
+a luminous, transparent colour, his eyelids once more moved naturally,
+and he looked at his wife as she stood beside him, and recognised her. He
+was weaker now than when he had spoken with John Short six hours earlier,
+but he was more fully in possession of his faculties for a
+brief moment. Mary Goddard trembled and felt her hands turn cold with
+excitement.
+
+"Walter, do you know me now?" she asked very softly.
+
+"Yes," he said faintly, and closed his eyes. She laid her hand upon his
+forehead; the coldness of it seemed pleasant to him, for a slight smile
+flickered over his face.
+
+"You are better, I think," she said again, gazing intently at him.
+
+"Mary--it is Mary?" he murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking up
+to her. "Yes--I know you--I have been dreaming a long time. I'm so
+tired--"
+
+"You must not talk," said she. "It will tire you more." Then she gave him
+some drink. "Try and sleep," she said in a soothing tone.
+
+"I cannot--oh, Mary, I am very ill."
+
+"But you will get well again--"
+
+Goddard started suddenly, and laid his hand upon her arm with more force
+than she suspected he possessed.
+
+"Where am I?" he asked, staring about the room. "Is this your house,
+Mary? What became of Juxon?"
+
+"He is not hurt. He brought you home in his arms, Walter, to his own
+house, and is taking care of you."
+
+"Good heavens! He will give me up. No, no, don't hold me--I must be
+off"
+
+He made a sudden effort to rise, but he was very weak. He fell back
+exhausted upon his pillow; his fingers gripped the sheet convulsively,
+and his face grew paler.
+
+"Caught--like a rat!" he muttered. Mary Goddard sighed.
+
+Was she to give him hope of escape? Or should she try to calm him now,
+and when he was better, break the truth to him? Was she to make him
+believe that he was safe for the present, and hold out a prospect of
+escape when he should be better, or should she tell him now, once for
+all, while he was in his senses, that he was lost? It was a terrible
+position. Love she had none left for him, but there was infinite pity
+still in her heart and there would be while he breathed. She hesitated
+one moment only, and it may be that she decided for the wrong; but it was
+her pity that moved her, and not any remnant of love.
+
+"Hush, Walter," she said. "You may yet escape, when you are strong
+enough. You are quite safe here, for the present. Mr. Juxon would not
+think of giving you up now. By and by--the window is not high, Walter,
+and I shall often be alone with you. I will manage it."
+
+"Is that true? Are you cheating me?" cried the wretched man in broken
+tones. "No--you are speaking the truth--I know it--God bless you, Mary!"
+Again he closed his eyes and drew one or two long deep breaths.
+
+Strange to say, the blessing the miserable convict called down upon her
+was sweet to Mary Goddard, sweeter than anything she remembered for a
+long time. She had perhaps done wrong in giving him hopes of escaping,
+but at least he was grateful to her. It was more than she expected, for
+she remembered her last meeting with him, and the horrible ingratitude
+he had then shown her. It seemed to her that his heart had been softened
+a little; anything was better than that rough indifference he had
+affected before. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"Not that it makes much difference now, Mary," he said. "I don't think
+there is much left of me."
+
+"Do not say that, Walter," she answered gently. "Rest now. The more you
+rest the sooner you will be well again. Try and sleep."
+
+"Sleep--no--I cannot sleep. I have murdered sleep--like Macbeth, Mary,
+like Macbeth--Do you remember Macbeth?"
+
+"Hush," said Mary Goddard, endeavouring to calm him, though she turned
+pale at his strange quotation. "Hush--"
+
+"That is to say," said the sick man, heedless of her exhortation and
+soothing touch, "that is to say, I did not. He was very wide awake, and
+if I had not been quick, I should never have got off. Ugh! How damp that
+cellar was, that first night. That is where I got my fever. It is fever,
+I suppose?" he asked, unable to keep his mind for long in one groove.
+"What does the doctor say? Has he been here?"
+
+"Yes. He said you would soon be well; but he said you must be kept very
+quiet. So you must not talk, or I will go away."
+
+"Oh Mary, don't go--don't go! It's like--ha! ha! it's quite like old
+times, Mary!" He laughed harshly, a hideous, half-delirious laugh.
+
+Mary Goddard shuddered but made a great effort to control herself.
+
+"Yes," she said gently, "it is like old times. Try and think that it is
+the old house at Putney, Walter. Do you hear the sparrows chirping, just
+as they used to do? The curtains are the same colour, too. You used to
+sleep so quietly at the old house. Try and sleep now. Then you will
+soon get well. Now, I will sit beside you, but I will not talk any
+more--there--are you quite comfortable? A little higher? Yes--so. Go to
+sleep."
+
+Her quiet voice soothed him, and her gentle hands made his rest more
+easy. She sat down beside him, thinking from his silence that he would
+really go to sleep; hoping and yet not hoping, revolving in her mind the
+chances of his escape, so soon as he should be strong enough to attempt
+it, shuddering at the thought of what his fate must be if he again fell
+into the hands of the police. She did not know that a detective was at
+that moment in the house, determined to carry her husband away so soon as
+the doctor pronounced it possible. Nothing indeed, not even that
+knowledge could have added much to the burden of her sorrows as she sat
+there, a small and graceful figure with a sad pathetic face, leaning
+forward as she sat and gazing drearily at the carpet, where the sunlight
+crept in beneath the curtains from the bright world without. It seemed to
+her that the turning point in her existence had come, and that this day
+must decide all; yet she could not see how it was to be decided, think of
+it as she might. One thing stood prominent in her thoughts, and she
+delighted to think of it--the generosity of Charles Juxon. From first to
+last, from the day when she had frankly told him her story and he had
+accepted it and refused to let it bring any difference to his friendship
+for her, down to this present time, when after being basely attacked by
+her own husband, he had nobly brought the wretch home and was caring
+for him as for one of his own blood--through all and in spite of all, the
+squire had shown the same unassuming but unfailing generosity. She asked
+herself, as she sat beside the sick man, whether there were many like
+Charles Juxon in the world. There was the vicar, but the case was very
+different. He too had been kind and generous from the first; but he had
+not asked her to marry him--she blushed at the thought--he had not loved
+her. If Charles Juxon loved her, his generosity to Goddard was all the
+greater.
+
+She could not tell whether she loved him, because her ideas were what the
+world calls simple, and what, in heaven, would be called good. Her
+husband was alive; none the less so because he had been taken away and
+separated from her by the law--he was alive, and now was brought face to
+face with her again. While he was living, she did not suppose it possible
+to love another, for she was very simple. She said to herself truly that
+she had a very high esteem for the squire and that he was the best friend
+she had in the world; that to lose him would be the most terrible of
+imaginable losses; that she was deeply indebted to him, and she even half
+unconsciously allowed that if she were free she might marry him. There
+was no harm in that, she knew very well. She owed her own husband no
+longer either respect or affection, even while she still felt pity for
+him. Her esteem at least, she might give to another; nay, she owed it,
+and if she had refused Charles Juxon her friendship, she would have
+called herself the most ungrateful of women. If ever man deserved
+respect, esteem and friendship, it was the squire.
+
+Even in the present anxiety she thought of him, for his conduct seemed
+the only bright spot in the gloom of her thoughts; and she sincerely
+rejoiced that he had escaped unhurt. Had any harm come to him, she would
+have been, if it were possible, more miserable than she now was. But he
+was safe and sound, and doing his best to help her--doing more than she
+knew, in fact, at that very moment. There was at least something to be
+thankful for.
+
+Goddard stirred again, and opened his eyes.
+
+"Mary," he said faintly, "they won't catch me after all."
+
+"No, Walter," said she, humouring him. "Sleep quietly, for no one will
+disturb you."
+
+"I am going where nobody can catch me. I am dying--"
+
+"Oh, Walter!" cried Mary Goddard, "you must not speak like that. You will
+be better soon. The doctor is expected every moment."
+
+"He had better make haste," said the sick man with something of the
+roughness he had shown at their first meetings. "It is no use, Mary. I
+have been thinking about it. I have been mad for--for very long, I am
+sure. I want to die, Mary. Nobody can catch me if I die--I shall be safe
+then. You will be safe too--that is a great thing."
+
+His voice had a strange and meditative tone in it, which frightened his
+wife, as she stood close beside him. She could not speak, for her
+excitement and fear had the mastery of her tongue.
+
+"I have been thinking about it--I am not good for much, now--Mary--I
+never was. It will do some good if I die--just because I shall be out of
+the way. It will be the only good thing I ever did for you."
+
+"Oh Walter," cried his wife in genuine distress, "don't--don't!
+Think--you must not die so--think of--of the other world, Walter--you
+must not die so!"
+
+Goddard smiled faintly--scornfully, his wife thought.
+
+"I daresay I shall not die till to-morrow, or next day--but I will not
+live," he said with sudden energy. "Do you understand me, I will not
+live! Bah!" he cried, falling back upon his pillow, "the grapes are
+sour--I can't live if I would. Oh yes, I know all about that--my sins.
+Well, I am sorry for them. I am sorry, Mary. But it is very little
+good--people always laugh at--deathbed repentance--"
+
+He stopped and his thoughts seemed wandering. Mary Goddard gave him
+something to drink and tried to calm him. But he moved restlessly, though
+feebly.
+
+"Softly, softly," he murmured again. "He is coming--close to me. Get
+ready--now--no not yet, yes--now. Ugh!" yelled Goddard, suddenly
+springing up, his eyes starting from his head. "Ugh! the dog--oh!"
+
+"Hush, Walter," cried his wife, pushing him back. "Hush--no one will hurt
+you."
+
+"What--is that you, Mary?" asked the sick man, trembling violently. Then
+he laughed harshly. "I was off again. Pshaw! I did not really mean to
+hurt him--he need not have set that beast at me. He did not catch me
+though--Mary, I am going to die--will you pray for me? You are a good
+woman--somebody will hear your prayers, I daresay. Do, Mary--I shall feel
+better somehow, though I daresay it is very foolish of me."
+
+"No, Walter--not foolish, not foolish. Would you like me to call Mr.
+Ambrose? he is a clergyman--he is in the house."
+
+"No, no. You Mary, you--nobody will hear anybody else's prayers--for
+me--for poor me--"
+
+"Try and pray with me, Walter," said Mary Goddard, very quietly. She
+seemed to have an unnatural strength given to her in that hour of
+distress and horror. She knelt down by the bedside and took his wounded
+hand in hers, tenderly, and she prayed aloud in such words as she could
+find.
+
+Below, in the study, the detective had just finished telling his tale to
+the squire, and the wheels of Doctor Longstreet's dog-cart ground upon
+the gravel outside. The two men looked at each other for a moment, and
+Mr. Juxon spoke first.
+
+"That is the doctor," said he. "I will ask you to have patience for five
+minutes, Mr. Booley. He will give you his opinion. I am still very much
+shocked at what you have told me--I had no idea what had happened."
+
+"No--I suppose not," answered Mr. Booley calmly. "If you will ask the
+medical man to step in here for one moment, I will explain matters to
+him. I don't think he will differ much from me."
+
+"Very well," returned the squire, leaving the room. He went to meet
+Doctor Longstreet, intending to warn him of the presence of Mr. Booley,
+and meaning to entreat his support for the purpose of keeping Goddard in
+the house until he should be recovered. He passed through the library and
+exchanged a few words with Mr. Ambrose, explaining that the doctor had
+come. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were sitting on opposite sides of the
+fireplace in huge chairs, with a mournful air of resigned expectation
+upon their worthy faces. The detective remained alone in the study.
+
+Meanwhile John Short had refreshed himself from his fatigues, and came
+down stairs in search of some breakfast. He had recovered from his
+excitement and was probably the only one who thought of eating, as he was
+also the one least closely concerned in what was occurring. Instead of
+going to the library he went to the dining-room, and, seeing no one
+about, entered the study from the door which on that side connected the
+two rooms. To his surprise he saw Mr. Booley standing before the
+fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his feet wide apart. He had not
+the least idea who he was.
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed, staring hard at him.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Booley, who took him for the physician whom he expected.
+"I am George Booley of the detective service. I was expecting you, sir.
+There is very little to be said. My time, as I told Mr. Juxon, is very
+valuable. I must have Goddard out of the house by to-morrow afternoon at
+the latest. Now, doctor, it is of no use your talking to me about fever
+and all that--"
+
+John had stood with his mouth open, staring in blank astonishment at the
+detective, unable to find words in which to question the man. At last he
+got his breath.
+
+"What in the world are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "Are you a
+raving lunatic--or what are you?"
+
+"Come, come, doctor," said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, "none of
+that with me, you know. If the man must be moved--why he must, that is
+all, and you must make it possible, somehow."
+
+"You are crazy!" exclaimed John. "I am not the doctor, to begin with--"
+
+"Not the doctor!" cried Mr. Booley. "Then who are you? I beg your pardon,
+I am sure--"
+
+"I am John Short," said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name
+conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective. He cared little,
+for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into
+the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real
+physician. But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he
+found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each
+other. He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was
+relieved to see them--anything was a relief at that moment.
+
+"Mr. Ambrose," he said hurriedly, "there is a detective in the next room
+who means to carry off that poor man at once--as he is--sick--dying
+perhaps--it must be prevented!"
+
+"A detective!" cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath.
+
+"My dear John," said the vicar immediately afterwards, "where is he? I
+will reason with him."
+
+"Augustin," said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, "it is barbarous. I
+will go upstairs. If he enters the room it shall be across my body."
+
+"Do, my dear," replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely
+appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent.
+
+"Of course I will," said his wife, who had already reached the door. From
+which it appears that Mrs. Ambrose was a brave woman. She passed rapidly
+up the staircase to Goddard's room, but she paused as she laid her hand
+upon the latch. From within she could hear Mary Goddard's voice, praying
+aloud, as she had never heard any one pray before. She paused and
+listened, hesitating to interrupt the unhappy lady in such a moment.
+Moreover, though her goodwill was boundless, she had not any precise
+idea how to manage the defence. But as she stood there, the thought that
+the detective might at any moment follow her was predominant. The voice
+within the room paused for an instant and Mrs. Ambrose entered, raising
+one finger to her lips as though expecting that Mary Goddard would speak
+to her. But Mary was not looking, and at first did not notice the
+intrusion. She knelt by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, her
+hands clasped and clasping the sick man's wounded hand.
+
+Goddard's face was pale but not deathlike, and his breathing seemed
+regular and gentle; but his eyes were almost closed and he seemed not
+aware that any one had entered. Mrs. Ambrose was struck by his appearance
+which was greatly changed since she had left him half an hour earlier,
+his face purple and his harsh moaning continuing unceasingly. She said
+to herself that he was probably better. There was all the more reason for
+warning Mary Goddard of the new danger that awaited him. She shut the
+door and locked it and withdrew the key. At the sound Mary looked
+up--then rose to her feet with a sad look of reproach, as though not
+wishing to be disturbed. But Mrs. Ambrose came quickly to her side, and
+glancing once at Goddard, to see whether he was unconscious, she led her
+away from the bed.
+
+"My dear," she said very kindly, but in a voice trembling with
+excitement, "I had to come. There are detectives in the house, clamouring
+to take him away--but I will protect you--they shall not do it."
+
+Mary Goddard started and her eyes stared wildly at her friend. But
+presently the look of resigned sadness returned, and a faint and mournful
+smile flickered on her lips.
+
+"I think it is all over," she said. "He is still alive--but he will not
+live till they come."
+
+Then she bit her lip tightly, and all the features of her face trembled a
+little. The tears would rise spasmodically, though they were only tears
+of pity, not of love. Mrs. Ambrose, the severe, the stern, the eternally
+vigilant Mrs. Ambrose, sat down by the window; she put her arm about Mary
+Goddard's waist and took her upon her knee as though she had been a
+little child and laid her head upon her breast, comforting her as best
+she could. And their tears flowed down and mingled together, for many
+minutes.
+
+But once more the sick man's voice was heard; both women started to their
+feet and went to his side.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" he moaned faintly.
+
+"It is I--here I am, Walter, dear Walter--I am with you," answered Mary,
+raising him and putting her arm about his neck, while Mrs. Ambrose
+arranged the pillows behind him. He opened his eyes as though with a
+great effort.
+
+Some one knocked softly at the door. Mrs. Ambrose left the bedside
+quickly and put the key in the lock.
+
+"Who is there?" she asked, before she opened.
+
+"I--John. Please let me in."
+
+Mrs. Ambrose opened and John entered, very pale; she locked the door
+again after him. He stood still looking with astonishment at Mrs. Goddard
+who still propped the sick man in her arms and hardly noticed him.
+
+"Why--?" he ejaculated and then checked himself, or rather was checked by
+Mrs. Ambrose's look. Then he spoke to her in a whisper.
+
+"There is an awful row going on between the doctor and the detective," he
+said hurriedly under his breath. "They are coming upstairs and the vicar
+and Mr. Juxon are trying to part them--I don't know what they are not
+saying to each other--"
+
+"Hush," replied Mrs. Ambrose, "do not disturb him--he was conscious again
+just now. This may be the crisis--he may recover. The door is locked--try
+and prevent anybody--that is, the detective, from coming in. They will
+not dare to break open the door in Mr. Juxon's house."
+
+"But why is Mrs. Goddard here?" asked John unable to control his
+curiosity any longer. He did not mean that she should hear, but as she
+laid Goddard's head gently upon the pillows, trying to soothe him to rest
+again, if rest it were, she looked up and met John's eyes.
+
+"Because he is my husband," said she very quietly.
+
+John laid his hand on Mrs. Ambrose's arm in utmost bewilderment and
+looked at her as though to ask if it were true. She nodded gravely.
+Before John had time to recover himself from the shock of the news,
+footsteps were heard outside, and the loud altercation of angry voices.
+John Short leaned his shoulder against the door and put his foot against
+it below, expecting an attack.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+When Mr. Ambrose undertook to reason with the detective he went directly
+towards the study where John said the man was waiting. But Mr. Booley was
+beginning to suspect that the doctor was not coming to speak with him as
+the squire had promised, and after hesitating for a few moments followed
+John into the library, determining to manage matters himself. As he
+opened the door he met Mr. Ambrose coming towards him, and at the same
+moment Mr. Juxon and Doctor Longstreet entered from the opposite end of
+the long room. The cheerful and active physician was talking in a rather
+excited tone.
+
+"My dear sir," said he, "I cannot pretend to say that the man will or
+will not recover. I must see him again. Things look quite differently by
+daylight, and six or seven hours may make all the change in the world. To
+say that he can be moved to-day or even to-morrow, is absurd. I will
+stake my reputation as a practitioner--Hulloa!"
+
+The exclamation was elicited by Mr. Booley, who had pushed past Mr.
+Ambrose and stood confronting the doctor with a look which was intended
+to express a combination of sarcasm, superior cunning and authority.
+
+"This is Mr. Booley," explained the squire. "Doctor Longstreet will tell
+you what he has been telling me," he added turning to the detective.
+
+"I must see this man instantly," said the latter somewhat roughly. "I
+believe I am being trifled with, and I will not submit to it. No, sir, I
+will not be trifled with, I assure you! I must see this man at once. It
+is absolutely necessary to identify him."
+
+"And I say," said Doctor Longstreet with equal firmness, "that I must see
+him first, in order to judge whether you can see him or not--"
+
+"It is for me to judge of that," returned Mr. Booley, with more haste
+than logic.
+
+"After you have seen him, you cannot judge whether you ought to see him
+or not," retorted Doctor Longstreet growing red in the face. The
+detective attempted to push past him. At this moment John Short hastily
+left the room and fled upstairs to warn Mrs. Ambrose of what was
+happening.
+
+"Really," said Mr. Ambrose, making a vain attempt to stop the course of
+events, "this is very unwarrantable."
+
+"Unwarrantable!" cried Mr. Booley. "Unwarrantable, indeed! I have the
+warrant in my pocket. Mr. Juxon, sir, I fear I must insist."
+
+"Permit me," said Mr. Juxon, planting his square and sturdy form between
+the door and the detective. "You may certainly insist, but you must begin
+by listening to reason."
+
+Charles Juxon had been accustomed to command others for the greater part
+of his life, and though he was generally the most unobtrusive and gentle
+of men, when he raised his voice in a tone of authority his words carried
+weight. His blue eyes stared hard at Mr. Booley, and there was something
+imposing in his square head--even in the unruffled smoothness of his
+brown hair. Mr. Booley paused and discontentedly thrust his hands into
+his pockets.
+
+"Well?" he said.
+
+"Simply this," answered the squire. "You may accompany us to the door of
+the room; you may wait with me, while Doctor Longstreet goes in to look
+at the patient. If the man is unconscious you may go in and see him. If
+he chances to be in a lucid interval, you must wait until he is
+unconscious again. It will not be long. That is perfectly reasonable."
+
+"Perfectly," echoed Mr. Ambrose, biting his long upper lip and glaring as
+fiercely at Mr. Booley as though he had said it all himself.
+
+"Absolutely reasonable," added Doctor Longstreet.
+
+"Well, we will try it," said the detective moodily. "But I warn you I
+will not be trifled with."
+
+"Nobody is trifling with you," answered the squire coldly. "This way if
+you please." And he forthwith led the way upstairs, followed by Mr.
+Booley, the physician and the vicar.
+
+Before they reached the door, however, the discussion broke out again.
+Mr. Booley had been held in check for a few moments by Mr. Juxon's
+determined manner, but as he followed the squire he began to regret that
+he had yielded so far and he made a fresh assertion of his rights.
+
+"I cannot see why you want to keep me outside," he said. "What difference
+can it make, I should like to know?"
+
+"You will have to take my word for it that it does make a difference,"
+said the doctor, testily. "If you frighten the man, he will die. Now
+then, here we are."
+
+"I don't like your tone, sir," said Booley angrily, again trying to push
+past the physician. "I think I must insist, after all. I will go in with
+you--I tell you I will, sir--don't stop me."
+
+Doctor Longstreet, who was fifteen or twenty years older than the
+detective but still strong and active, gripped his arm quickly, and held
+him back.
+
+"If you go into that room without my permission, and if the man dies of
+fright, I will have an action brought against you for manslaughter," he
+said in a loud voice.
+
+"And I will support it," said the squire. "I am justice of the peace
+here, and what is more, I am in my own house. Do not think your position
+will protect you."
+
+Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew
+back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the
+door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word
+of the altercation had been heard within.
+
+"Who is there?" asked John, who though he had heard all that had been
+said was uncertain of the issue.
+
+"Let in Doctor Longstreet," said the squire's voice.
+
+But meanwhile Mrs. Ambrose and Mary Goddard were standing on each side of
+the sick man. He must have heard the noises outside, and they conveyed
+some impression to his brain.
+
+"Mary, Mary!" he groaned indistinctly. "Save me--they are coming--I
+cannot get away--softly, he is coming--now--I shall just catch him as he
+goes by--Ugh! that dog--oh! oh!--"
+
+With a wild shriek, the wretched man sprang up, upon his knees, his eyes
+starting out, his face transfigured with horror. For one instant he
+remained thus, half-supported by the two terror-struck women; then with a
+groan his head drooped forward upon his breast and he fell back heavily
+upon the pillows, breathing still but quite unconscious.
+
+Doctor Longstreet entered at that moment and ran to his side. But when he
+saw him he paused. Even Mrs. Ambrose was white with horror, and Mary
+Goddard stood motionless, staring down at her husband, her hands gripping
+the disordered coverlet convulsively.
+
+Mr. Juxon had entered, too, while Mr. Ambrose remained outside with the
+detective, who had been frightened into submission by the physician's
+last threat. The squire saw what was happening and paced the room in the
+greatest agitation, wringing his hands together and biting his lips. John
+had closed the door and came to the foot of the bed and looked at
+Goddard's face. After a pause, Doctor Longstreet spoke.
+
+"We might possibly restore him to consciousness for a moment--"
+
+"Don't!" cried Mary Goddard, starting as though some one had struck her.
+"That is--" she added quickly, in broken tones, "unless he can live!"
+
+"No," answered the physician, gravely, but looking hard at the unhappy
+woman. "He is dying."
+
+Goddard's staring eyes were glazed and white. Twice and three times he
+gasped for breath, and then lay quite still. It was all over. Mary gazed
+at his dead face for one instant, then a faint smile parted her lips: she
+raised one hand to her forehead as though dazed.
+
+"He is safe now," she murmured very faintly. Her limbs relaxed suddenly,
+and she fell straight backwards. Charles Juxon, who was watching her,
+sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Then he bore her from the
+room, swiftly, while John Short who was as white and speechless as the
+rest opened the door.
+
+"You may go in now," said Juxon as he passed Booley and Mr. Ambrose in
+the passage, with his burden in his arms. A few steps farther on he met
+Holmes the butler, who carried a telegram on a salver.
+
+"For Mr. Short, sir," said the impassive servant, not appearing to notice
+anything strange in the fact that his master was carrying the inanimate
+body of Mary Goddard.
+
+"He is in there--go in," said Juxon hurriedly as he went on his way.
+
+The detective and the vicar had already entered the room where the dead
+convict was lying. All stood around the bed, gazing at his pale face as
+he lay.
+
+"A telegram for Mr. Short," said Holmes from the door. John started and
+took the despatch from the butler's hands. He hastily tore it open,
+glanced at the contents and thrust it into his pocket. Every one looked
+round.
+
+"What is it, John?" whispered the vicar, who was nearest to him.
+
+"Oh--nothing. I am first in the Tripos, that is all," answered John very
+simply, as though it were not a matter of the least consequence.
+
+Through all those months of untiring labour, through privation and
+anxiety, through days of weariness and nights of study, he had looked
+forward to the triumph, often doubting but never despairing. But he had
+little guessed that the news of victory would reach him at such a moment.
+It was nothing, he said; and indeed as he stood with the group of pale
+and awe-struck spectators by the dead man's bed, he felt that the
+greatest thing which had ever happened to him was as nothing compared
+with the tragedy of which he had witnessed the last act.
+
+It was all over. There was nothing more to be said; the convict had
+escaped the law in the end, at the very moment when the hand of the law
+was upon him. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, buried him "four by
+six by two," grumbling at the parish depth as of yore, and a simple stone
+cross marked his nameless grave. There it stands to this day in the
+churchyard of Billingsfield, Essex, in the shadow of the ancient abbey.
+
+All these things happened a long time ago, according to Billingsfield
+reckoning, but the story of the tramp who attacked Squire Juxon and was
+pulled down by the bloodhound is still told by the villagers, and Mr.
+Gall, being once in good cheer, vaguely hinted that he knew who the tramp
+was; but from the singular reticence he has always shown in the matter,
+and from the prosperity which has attended his constabulary career, it
+may well be believed that he has a life interest in keeping his counsel.
+Indeed as it is nearly ten years since Mr. Reid buried the poor tramp, it
+is possible that Mr. Gall's memory may be already failing in regard to
+events which occurred at so remote a date.
+
+It was but an incident, though it was perhaps the only incident of any
+interest which ever occurred in Billingsfield; but until it reached its
+termination it agitated the lives of the quiet people at the vicarage,
+at the cottage and at the Hall as violently as human nature can be moved.
+It was long, too, before those who had witnessed the scene of Goddard's
+death could shake off the impression of those awful last moments. Yet
+time does all things wonderful and in the course of not many months there
+remained of Goddard's memory only a great sense of relief that he was no
+longer alive. Mary Goddard, indeed, was very ill for a long time; and but
+for Mrs. Ambrose's tender care of her, might have followed her husband
+within a few weeks of his death. But the good lady never left her, until
+she was herself again--absolutely herself, saving that as time passed and
+her deep wounds healed her sorrows were forgotten, and she seemed to
+bloom out into a second youth.
+
+So it came to pass that within two years Charles Juxon once more asked
+her to be his wife. She hesitated long--fully half an hour, the squire
+thought; but in the end she put out her small hand and laid it in his,
+and thanked God that a man so generous and true, and whom she so honestly
+loved, was to be her husband as well as her friend and protector. Charles
+James Juxon smoothed his hair with his other hand, and his blue eyes were
+a little moistened.
+
+"God bless you, Mary," he said; and that was all.
+
+Then the Reverend Augustin Ambrose married them in the church of Saint
+Mary's, between Christmas and New Year's Day; and the wedding-party
+consisted of Mrs. Ambrose and Eleanor Goddard and John Short, Fellow of
+Trinity College, Cambridge. And again years passed by, and Nellie grew in
+beauty as John grew in reputation; and Nellie had both brothers and
+sisters, as she had longed to have, and to her, their father was as her
+own; so that there was much harmony and peace and goodwill towards men
+in Billingsfield Hall. John came often and stayed long, and was ever
+welcome; for though Mary Goddard's youth returned with the daffodils and
+the roses of the first spring after Walter's death, John's fleeting
+passion returned not, and perhaps its place was better taken. Year by
+year, as he came to refresh himself from hard work with a breath of the
+country air, he saw the little girl grow to the young maiden of sixteen,
+and he saw her beauty ripen again to the fulness of womanhood; and at
+last, when she was one and twenty years of age he in his turn put out his
+hand and asked her to take him--which she did, for better or worse, but
+to all appearances for better. For John Short had prospered mightily in
+the world, and had come to think his first great success as very small
+and insignificant as compared with what he had done since. But his old
+simplicity was in him yet, and was the cause of much of his prosperity,
+as it generally is when it is found together with plenty of brains. It
+was doubtless because he was so very simple that when he found that he
+loved Eleanor Goddard he did not hesitate to ask the convict's daughter
+to be his wife. His interview with Mr. Juxon was characteristic.
+
+"You know what you are doing, John?" asked the squire. He always called
+him John, now.
+
+"Perfectly," replied the scholar, "I am doing precisely what my betters
+have done before me with such admirable result."
+
+"Betters?"
+
+"You. You knew about it all and you married her mother. I know all about
+it, and I wish to marry herself."
+
+"You know that she never heard the story?"
+
+"Yes. She never shall."
+
+"No, John--she never must. Well, all good go with you."
+
+So Charles Juxon gave his consent. And Mary Juxon consented too; but for
+the first time in many years the tears rose again to her eyes, and she
+laid her hand on John's arm, as they walked together in the park.
+
+"Oh, John," she said, "do you think it is right--for you yourself?"
+
+"Of course I think so," quoth John stoutly.
+
+"You John--with your reputation, your success, with the whole world at
+your feet--you ought not to marry the daughter of--of such a man."
+
+"My dear Mrs. Juxon," said John Short, "is she not your daughter as well
+as his? Pray, pray do not mention that objection. I assure you I have
+thought it all over. There is really nothing more to be said, which I
+have not said to myself. Dear Mrs. Juxon--do say Yes!"
+
+"You are very generous, John, as well as great," she answered looking up
+to his face. "Well--I have nothing to say. You must do as you think best.
+I am sure you will be kind to Nellie, for I have known you for ten
+years--you may tell her I am very glad--" she stopped, her eyes brimming
+over with tears.
+
+"Do you remember how angry I was once, when you told me to go and talk to
+Nellie?" said John. "It was just here, too--"
+
+Mary Juxon laughed happily and brushed the tears from her eyes. So it was
+all settled.
+
+Once more the Reverend Augustin Ambrose united two loving hearts before
+the altar of Saint Mary's. He was well stricken in years, and his hair
+and beard were very white. Mrs. Ambrose also grew more imposing with each
+succeeding season, but her face was softer than of old, and her voice
+more gentle. For the sorrow and suffering of a few days had drawn
+together the hearts of all those good people with strong bands, and a
+deep affection had sprung up between them all. The good old lady felt as
+though Mary Juxon were her daughter--Mary Juxon, by whom she had stood in
+the moment of direst trial and terror, whom she had tended in illness and
+cheered in recovery. And the younger woman's heart had gone out towards
+her, feeling how good a thing it is to find a friend in need, and
+learning to value in her happiness the wealth of human kindness she had
+found in her adversity.
+
+They are like one family, now, having a common past, a common present,
+and a common future, and there is no dissension among them. Honest and
+loyal men and women may meet day after day, and join hands and exchange
+greetings, without becoming firm friends, for the very reason that they
+have no need of each other. But if the storm of a great sorrow breaks
+among them and they call out to each other for help, and bear the brunt
+of the weather hand in hand, the seed of a deeper affection is brought
+into their midst; and when the tempest is past the sweet flower of
+friendship springs up in the moistened furrows of their lives.
+
+So those good people in the lonely parish of Billingsfield gathered round
+Mary Goddard, as they called her then, and round poor little Nellie, and
+did their best to protect the mother and the child from harm and
+undeserved suffering; and afterwards, when it was all over, and there was
+nothing more to be feared in the future, they looked into each other's
+faces and felt that they were become as brothers and sisters, and that so
+long as they should live--may it be long indeed!--there was a bond
+between them which could never be broken. So it was that Mrs. Ambrose's
+face softened and her voice was less severe than it had been.
+
+Mary Juxon is the happiest of women; happy in her husband, in her
+eldest daughter, in John Short and in the little children with bright
+faces and ringing voices who nestle at her knee or climb over the sturdy
+sailor-squire, and pull his great beard and make him laugh. They will
+never know, any more than Nellie knew, all that their mother suffered;
+and as she looks upon them and strokes their long fair hair and listens
+to their laughter, she says to herself that it was perhaps almost worth
+while to have been dragged down towards the depths of shame for the sake
+of at last enjoying such pride and glory of happy motherhood.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+      I. Mr. Isaacs
+     II. Doctor Claudius
+    III. To Leeward
+     IV. A Roman Singer
+      V. An American Politician
+     VI. Marzio's Crucifix Zoroaster
+    VII. A Tale of a Lonely Parish
+   VIII. Paul Patoff
+     IX. Love in Idleness: A Tale of Bar Harbor Marion Darche
+      X. Saracinesca
+     XI. Sant' Ilario
+    XII. Don Orsino
+   XIII. Corleone: A Sicilian Story
+    XIV. With the Immortals
+     XV. Greifenstein
+    XVI. A Cigarette-Maker's Romance Khaled
+   XVII. The Witch of Prague
+  XVIII. The Three Fates
+    XIX. Taquisara
+     XX. The Children of the King
+    XXI. Pietro Ghisleri
+   XXII. Katharine Lauderdale
+  XXIII. The Ralstons
+   XXIV. Casa Braccio (Part I)
+    XXV. Casa Braccio (Part II)
+   XXVI. Adam Johnstone's Son A Rose of Yesterday
+  XXVII. Via Crucia
+ XXVIII. In the Palace of the King
+   XXIX. Marietta: A Maid of Venice
+    XXX. Cecilia: A Story of Modern Rome
+   XXXI. The Heart of Rome
+  XXXII. Whosoever Shall Offend
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13597 ***
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #13597 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13597)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Tale of a Lonely Parish, by F. Marion
+Crawford
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Tale of a Lonely Parish
+
+Author: F. Marion Crawford
+
+Release Date: October 4, 2004  [eBook #13597]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH
+
+by
+
+F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+1886
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TO My MOTHER
+
+I DEDICATE THIS TALE A MEAN TOKEN OF A LIFELONG AFFECTION
+
+SORRENTO, Christmas Day, 1885
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The Reverend Augustin Ambrose would gladly have given up taking pupils.
+He was growing old and his sight was beginning to trouble him; he was
+very weary of Thucydides, of Homer, of the works of Mr. Todhunter of
+which the green bindings expressed a hope still unrealised, of conic
+sections--even of his beloved Horace. He was tired of the stupidities of
+the dull young men who were sent to him because they could not "keep up",
+and he had long ceased to be surprised or interested by the remarks of
+the clever ones who were sent to him because their education had not
+prepared them for an English University. The dull ones could never be
+made to understand anything, though Mr. Ambrose generally succeeded in
+making them remember enough to matriculate, by dint of ceaseless
+repetition and a system of _memoria technica_ which embraced most things
+necessary to the salvation of dull youth. The clever ones, on the other
+hand, generally lacked altogether the solid foundation of learning; they
+could construe fluently but did not know a long syllable from a short
+one; they had vague notions of elemental algebra and no notion at all of
+arithmetic, but did very well in conic sections; they knew nothing of
+prosody, but dabbled perpetually in English blank verse; altogether they
+knew most of those things which they need not have known and they knew
+none of those things thoroughly which they ought to have known. After
+twenty years of experience Mr. Ambrose ascertained that it was easier to
+teach a stupid boy than a clever one, but that he would prefer not to
+teach at all.
+
+Unfortunately the small tithes of a small country parish in Essex did not
+furnish a sufficient income for his needs. He had been a Fellow of
+Trinity College, Cambridge, within a few years of taking his degree,
+wherein he had obtained high honours. But he had married and had found
+himself obliged to accept the first living offered to him, to wit, the
+vicarage of Billingsfield, whereof his college held the rectory and
+received the great tithes. The entire income he obtained from his cure
+never at any time exceeded three hundred and forty-seven pounds, and in
+the year when it reached that high figure there had been an unusually
+large number of marriages. It was not surprising that the vicar should
+desire to improve his circumstances by receiving one or two pupils. He
+had married young, as has been said, and there had been children born to
+him, a son and a daughter. Mrs. Ambrose was a good manager and a good
+mother, and her husband had worked hard. Between them they had brought up
+their children exceedingly well. The son had in his turn entered the
+church, had exhibited a faculty of pushing his way which had not
+characterised his father, had got a curacy in a fashionable Yorkshire
+watering-place, and was thought to be on the way to obtain a first-rate
+living. In the course of time, too, the daughter had lost her heart to a
+young physician who had brilliant prospects and some personal fortune,
+and the Reverend Augustin Ambrose had given his consent to the union. Nor
+had he been disappointed. The young physician had risen rapidly in his
+profession, had been elected a member of the London College, had
+transferred himself to the capital and now enjoyed a rising practice in
+Chelsea. So great was his success that it was thought he would before
+long purchase the goodwill of an old practitioner who dwelt in the
+neighbourhood of Brompton Crescent, and who, it was said, might shortly
+be expected to retire.
+
+It will be seen, therefore, that if Mr. Ambrose's life had not been very
+brilliant, his efforts had on the whole been attended with success. His
+children were both happy and independent and no longer needed his
+assistance or support; his wife, the excellent Mrs. Ambrose, enjoyed
+unfailing health and good spirits; he himself was still vigorous and
+active, and as yet found no difficulty in obtaining a couple of pupils at
+two hundred pounds a year each, for he had early got a reputation for
+successfully preparing young gentlemen with whom no other private tutor
+could do anything, and he had established the scale of his prices
+accordingly. It is true that he had sacrificed other things for the sake
+of imparting tuition, and more than once he had hesitated and asked
+himself whether he should go on. Indeed, when he graduated, it was
+thought that he would soon make himself remarkable by the publication of
+some scholarly work; it was foretold that he might become a famous
+preacher; it was asserted that he was a general favourite with the
+Fellows of Trinity and would get a proportionately fat living--but he had
+committed the unpardonable sin of allowing his chances of fortune to slip
+from him. He had given up his fellowship, had married and had accepted an
+insignificant country living. He asked nothing, and he got nothing. He
+never attracted the notice of his bishop by doing anything extraordinary,
+nor the notice of the public by appearing in print. He baptized, married
+and buried the people of Billingsfield, Essex, and he took private
+pupils. He wrote a sermon once a fortnight, and revised old ones for the
+other three occasions out of four. His sermons were good in their way,
+but were intended for simple folk and did no justice to the powers he had
+certainly possessed in his youth. Indeed, as years went on, the dry
+routine of his life produced its inevitable effect upon his mind, and the
+productions of Mr. Ambrose grew to be exceedingly commonplace; and the
+more commonplace he became, the more he regretted having done so little
+with the faculties he enjoyed, and the more weary he became of the daily
+task of galvanising the dull minds of his pupils into a spasmodic
+activity, just sufficient to leap the ditch that separates the schoolboy
+from the undergraduate. He had not only educated his children and seen
+them provided for in the world; he had also saved a little money, and he
+had insured his life for five hundred pounds. There was no longer any
+positive necessity for continuing to teach, as there had been thirty
+years ago, when he first married.
+
+So much for the circumstances of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose.
+Personally he was a man of good presence, five feet ten inches in height,
+active and strong, of a ruddy complexion with smooth, thick grey hair and
+a plentiful grey beard. He shaved his upper lip however, greatly to the
+detriment of his appearance, for the said upper lip was very long and the
+absence of the hirsute appendage showed a very large mouth with very thin
+lips, generally compressed into an expression of remarkable obstinacy.
+His nose was both broad and long and his grey eyes were bright and
+aggressive in their glance. As a matter of fact Mr. Ambrose was combative
+by nature, but his fighting instincts seem to have been generally
+employed in the protection of rights he already possessed, rather than in
+pushing on in search of fresh fields of activity. He was an active man,
+fond of walking alone and able to walk any distance he pleased; a
+charitable man with the charity peculiar to people of exceedingly
+economical tendencies and possessing small fixed incomes. He would give
+himself vast personal trouble to assist distress, as though aware that
+since he could not give much money to the poor he was bound to give the
+best of himself. The good Mrs. Ambrose seconded him in this as in all his
+works; labouring hard when hard work could do any good, but giving
+material assistance with a sparing hand. It sufficiently defines the two
+to say that although many a surly labourer in the parish grumbled that
+the vicar and his wife were "oncommon near", when money was concerned,
+there was nevertheless no trouble in which their aid was not invoked and
+their advice asked. But the indigent labourer not uncommonly retrieved
+his position by asking a shilling of one of the young gentlemen at the
+vicarage, who were generally open-handed, good-looking boys, blessed with
+a great deal more money than brains.
+
+At the time when this tale opens, however, it chanced that one of the two
+young gentlemen at the vicarage was by no means in the position peculiar
+to the majority of youths who sought the good offices of the Reverend
+Augustin Ambrose. John Short, aged eighteen, was in all respects a
+remarkable contrast to his companion the Honourable Cornelius Angleside.
+John Short was apparently very poor; the Honourable Cornelius on the
+other hand had plenty of money. Short was undeniably clever; Angleside
+was uncommonly dull. Short was the son of a decayed literary man;
+Angleside was the son of a nobleman. Short was by nature a hard worker;
+Angleside was amazingly idle. Short meant to do something in the world;
+Angleside had early determined to do nothing.
+
+It would not be easy to define the reasons which induced Mr. Ambrose to
+receive John Short under his roof. He had never before taken a pupil on
+any but his usual terms, and at his time of life it was strange that he
+should break through the rule. But here his peculiar views of charity
+came into play. Short's father had been his own chum at school, and his
+friend at college, but had failed to reap any substantial benefits from
+his education. He had been a scholar in his way, but his way had not been
+the way of other scholars, and when he had gone up for honours he had got
+a bad third in classics. He would not enter the church, he could not
+enter the law, he had no interest whatever, and he found himself
+naturally thrust into the profession of literature. For a time he had
+nearly starved; then he had met with some success and had, of course,
+married without hesitation; after this he had had more misfortunes. His
+wife had died leaving him an only son, whom in course of time he had sent
+to school. But school was too expensive and he had reluctantly taken the
+boy home again. It was in a fit of despair that he wrote to his old
+friend Augustin Ambrose, asking his advice. The Reverend Augustin
+considered the matter with the assistance of his wife, and being
+charitable souls, they determined that they must help Short to educate
+his son. Accordingly the vicar of Billingsfield wrote to his old friend
+to say that if he could manage to pay a small sum for the lad's board,
+he, the vicar, would complete the boy's education, so that he might at
+least have a chance in the world. Short accepted the offer with boundless
+gratitude and had hitherto not failed to pay the vicar the small sum
+agreed upon. The result of all this was that Mr. Ambrose had grown very
+fond of John, and John had derived great advantage from his position. He
+possessed precisely what his father had lacked, namely a strong bent in
+one direction, and there was no doubt that he would distinguish himself
+if he had a chance. That chance the vicar had determined to give him. He
+had made up his mind that his old friend's son should go to college and
+show what he was able to do. It was not an easy thing to manage, but the
+vicar had friends in Cambridge and John had brains; moreover the vicar
+and John were both very obstinate people and had both determined upon the
+same plan, so that there was a strong probability of their succeeding.
+
+John Short was eighteen years of age, neither particularly good-looking
+nor by any means the reverse. He had what bankers commonly call a lucky
+face; that is to say he had a certain very prepossessing look of honesty
+in his blue eyes, and a certain look of energetic goodwill in his
+features. When he was much older and wore a beard he passed for a
+handsome man, but at eighteen he could only boast the smallest of fair
+whiskers, and when anybody took the trouble to look long at him, which
+was not often, the verdict was that his jaw was too heavy and his mouth
+too obstinate. In complexion he was fair, and healthy to look at,
+generally sunburned in the summer, for he had a habit of reading out of
+doors; his laugh was very pleasant, though it was rarely heard; his eyes
+were honest but generally thoughtful; his frame was sturdy and already
+inclined rather to strength than to graceful proportion; his head matched
+his body well, being broad and well-shaped with plenty of prominence over
+the brows and plenty of fulness above the temples. He had a way of
+standing as though it would not be easy to move him, and a way of
+expressing his opinion which seemed to challenge contradiction. But he
+was not a combative boy. If any one argued with him, it soon appeared
+that he was not really argumentative, but merely enthusiastic. It was not
+necessary to agree with him, and there was small use in contradicting
+him. The more he talked the more enthusiastic he grew as he developed his
+own views; until seeing that he was not understood or that he was merely
+laughed at, he would end his discourse with a merry laugh at himself, or
+a shy apology for having talked so much. But the vicar assured his wife
+that the boy's Greek and Latin verses were something very extraordinary
+indeed, and much better than his own in his best days. For John was
+passionately fond of the classics and did not propose to acquire any more
+mathematical knowledge than was strictly necessary for his matriculation
+and "little-go." He meant to be a famous scholar and he meant to get a
+fellowship at his college in order to be perfectly independent and to
+help his father.
+
+John was a constant source of wonder to his companion the Honourable
+Cornelius Angleside, who remembered to have seen fellows of that sort at
+Eton but had never got near enough to them to know what they were really
+like. Cornelius had a vague idea that there was some trick about
+appearing to know so much and that those reading chaps were awful
+humbugs. How the trick was performed he did not venture to explain, but
+he was as firmly persuaded that it was managed by some species of
+conjuring as that Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook performed their wonders by
+sleight of hand. That one human brain should actually contain the amount
+of knowledge John Short appeared to possess was not credible to the
+Honourable Cornelius, and the latter spent more of his time in trying to
+discover how John "did it" than in trying to "do it" himself.
+Nevertheless, young Angleside liked Short after his own fashion, and
+Short did not dislike Angleside. John's father had given him to
+understand that as a general rule persons of wealth and good birth were a
+set of overbearing, purse-proud bullies, who considered men of genius to
+be little better than a set of learned monkeys, certainly not good enough
+to black their boots. For John's father in his misfortunes had imbibed
+sundry radical notions formerly peculiar to poor literary men, and not
+yet altogether extinct, and he had accordingly warned his son that all
+mammon was the mammon of unrighteousness, and that the people who
+possessed it were the natural enemies of people who had to live by their
+brains. But John had very soon discovered that though Cornelius Angleside
+possessed the three qualifications for perdition, in the shape of birth,
+wealth and ignorance, against which his poor father railed unceasingly,
+he succeeded nevertheless in making himself very good company. Angleside
+was not overbearing, he was not purse-proud and he was not a bully. On
+the contrary he was unobtrusive and sufficiently simple in manner, and he
+certainly never mentioned the subject of his family or fortune; John
+rather pitied him, on the whole, until he began to discover that
+Angleside looked up to him on account of his mental superiority, and then
+John, being very human, began to like him.
+
+The life at the vicarage of Billingsfield, Essex, was not remarkable for
+anything but its extreme regularity. Prayers, breakfast, work, lunch, a
+walk, work, dinner, work, prayers, bed. The programme never varied, save
+as the seasons introduced some change in the hours of the establishment.
+The vicar, who was fond of a little gardening and amused himself with a
+variety of experiments in the laying of asparagus beds, found occasional
+excitement in the pursuit of a stray cat which had managed to climb his
+wire netting and get at the heads of his favourite vegetable, in which
+thrilling chase he was usually aided by an old brown retriever answering,
+when he answered at all, to the name of Carlo, and by the Honourable
+Cornelius, whose skill in throwing stones was as phenomenal as his
+ignorance of Latin quantities. The play was invariably opened by old
+Reynolds, the ancient and bow-legged gardener, groom and man of all work
+at the vicarage.
+
+"Please sir, there's Simon Gunn's cat in the sparrergrass." The
+information was accompanied by a sort of chuckle of evil satisfaction
+which at once roused the sleeping passions of the Reverend Augustin
+Ambrose.
+
+"Dear me, Reynolds, then why don't you turn her out?" and without waiting
+for an answer, the excellent vicar would spring from his seat and rush
+down the lawn in the direction of the beds, closely followed by the
+Honourable Cornelius, who picked up stones from the gravel path as he
+ran, and whose long legs made short work of the iron fence at the bottom
+of the garden. Meanwhile the aged Reynolds let Carlo loose from the yard
+and the hunt was prosecuted with great boldness and ingenuity. The
+vicar's object was to get the cat out of the asparagus bed as soon as
+possible without hurting her, for he was a humane man and would not have
+hurt a fly. Cornelius, on the other hand, desired the game to last as
+long as possible, and endeavoured to prevent the cat's escape by always
+hitting the wire netting at the precise spot where she was trying to get
+over it. In this way he would often succeed in getting as much as half an
+hour's respite from Horace. At last the vicar, panting with his exertions
+and bathed in perspiration, would protest against the form of assault.
+
+"Really, Angleside", he would say, "I believe I could throw straighter
+myself. I'm quite sure Carlo can get her out if you leave him alone".
+
+Whereupon Cornelius would put his hands in his pockets and look on, and
+in a few minutes, when the cat had been driven out and the vicar's back
+was turned, he would slip a sixpence into old Reynold's hand, and follow
+his tutor reluctantly back to the study. Whether there was any connection
+between the cat and the sixpence is uncertain, but during the last months
+of Angleside's stay at the vicarage the ingenuity of Simon Gunn's yellow
+cat in getting over the wire netting reached such a pitch that the vicar
+began to prepare a letter to the Bishop Stortford _Chronicle_ on the
+relations generally existing between cats and asparagus beds.
+
+Another event in the life of the vicarage was the periodical lameness of
+the vicar's strawberry mare, followed by the invariable discovery that
+George Horsnell the village blacksmith had run a nail into her foot when
+he shoed her last. Invariably, also, the vicar threatened that in future
+the mare should be shod by Hawkins the rival blacksmith, who was a
+dissenter and had consequently never been employed by the vicarage.
+Moreover it was generally rumoured once every year that old Nat Barker,
+the octogenarian cripple who had not been able to stand upon his feet for
+twenty years, was at the point of death. He invariably recovered,
+however, in time to put in an appearance by proxy at the distribution of
+a certain dole of a loaf and a shilling on boxing day. It was told also
+that in remote times the Puckeridge hounds had once come that way and
+that the fox had got into the churchyard. A repetition of this stirring
+event was anxiously looked for during many years, every time that the
+said pack met within ten miles of Billingsfield, but hitherto it had been
+looked for in vain. On the whole the life at the vicarage was not
+eventful, and the studies of the two young men who imbibed learning at
+the feet of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose were rarely interrupted.
+
+Mrs. Ambrose herself represented the feminine element in the society of
+the little place. The new doctor was a strange man, suspected of being a
+free-thinker, and he was not married. The Hall, for there was a Hall at
+Billingsfield, was uninhabited, and had been uninhabited for years. The
+estate which belonged to it was unimportant and moreover was in Chancery
+and seemed likely to stay there, for reasons no one ever mentioned at
+Billingsfield, because no one knew anything about them. From time to time
+a legal looking personage drove up to the Duke's Head, which was kept by
+Mr. Abraham Boosey, who was also undertaker to the parish, and which was
+thought to be a very good inn. The legal personage stayed a day or two,
+spending most of his time at the Hall and in driving about to the
+scattered farms which represented the estate, but he never came to the
+vicarage, nor did the vicar ever seem to know what he was doing nor why
+he came. "He came on business"--that was all that anybody knew. His
+business was to collect rents, of course; but what he did with them, no
+one was bold enough to surmise. The estate was in Chancery, it was said,
+and the definition conveyed about as much to the mind of the average
+inhabitant of Billingsfield, as if he had been informed that the moon was
+in perigee or the sun in Scorpio. The practical result of its being in
+Chancery was that no one lived there.
+
+John Short liked Mrs. Ambrose and the Honourable Cornelius behaved to her
+with well bred affability. She always said Cornelius had very nice
+manners, as indeed he had and had need to have. Occasionally, perhaps
+four or five times in the year, the Reverend Edward Pewlay, who had what
+he called a tenor voice, and his wife, who played the pianoforte very
+fairly, came over to assist at a Penny Reading. He lived "over Harlow
+way," as the natives expressed it; he was what was called in those parts
+a rabid Anglican, because he preached in his surplice and had services on
+the Saints' days, and the vicar of Billingsfield did not sympathise in
+his views. Nevertheless he was very useful at Penny Readings, and on one
+of these occasions produced a very ingenious ghost for the delectation of
+the rustics, by means of a piece of plate glass and a couple of lamps.
+
+There had indeed been festivities at the vicarage to which as many as
+three clergymen's wives had been invited, but these were rare indeed. For
+months at a time Mrs. Ambrose reigned in undisputed possession of the
+woman's social rights in Billingsfield. She was an excellent person in
+every way. She had once been handsome and even now she was fine-looking,
+of goodly stature, if also of goodly weight; rosy, even rubicund, in
+complexion, and rotund of feature; looking at you rather severely out of
+her large grey eyes, but able to smile very cheerfully and to show an
+uncommonly good set of teeth; twisting her thick grey hair into a small
+knot at the back of her head and then covering it with a neatly made cap
+which she considered becoming to her time of life; dressed always with
+extreme simplicity and neatness, glorying in her good sense and in her
+stout shoes; speaking of things which she called "neat" with a devotional
+admiration and expressing the extremest height of her disapprobation when
+she said anything was "very untidy." A motherly woman, a practical woman,
+a good housekeeper and a good wife, careful of small things because
+generally only small things came in her way, devotedly attached to her
+husband, whom she regarded with perfect justice as the best man of her
+acquaintance, adding, however, with somewhat precipitous rashness that he
+was the best man in the world. She took also a great interest in his
+pupils and busied herself mightily with their welfare. Since the arrival
+of the new doctor who was suspected of free-thinking, she had shown a
+strong leaning towards homoeopathy, and prescribed small pellets of
+belladonna for the Honourable Cornelius's cold and infinitesimal drops of
+aconite for John Short's headaches, until she observed that John never
+had a headache unless he had worked too much, and Angleside always had a
+cold when he did not want to work at all. Especially in the department of
+the commissariat she showed great activity, and the reputation the vicar
+had acquired for feeding his pupils well had perhaps more to do with his
+success than he imagined. She was never tired of repeating that
+Englishmen needed plenty of good food, and she had no principles which
+she did not practise. She even thought it right to lecture young
+Angleside upon his idleness at stated intervals. He always replied with
+great gentleness that he was awfully stupid, you know, and Mr. Ambrose
+was awfully good about it and he hoped he should not be pulled when he
+went up. And strange to relate he actually passed his examination and
+matriculated, to his own immense astonishment and to the no small honour
+and glory of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, vicar of Billingsfield,
+Essex. But when that great day arrived certain events occurred which are
+worthy to be chronicled and remembered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+In the warm June weather young Angleside went up to pass his examination
+for entrance at Trinity. There is nothing particularly interesting or
+worthy of note in that simple process, though at that time the custom of
+imposing an examination had only been recently imported from Oxford. For
+one whole day forty or fifty young fellows from all parts of the country
+sat at the long dining-tables in the beautiful old hall and wrote as
+busily as they could, answering the printed questions before them, and
+eyeing each other curiously from time to time. The weather was warm and
+sultry, the trees were all in full leaf and Cambridge was deserted. Only
+a few hard-reading men, who stayed up during the Long, wandered out with
+books at the backs of the colleges or strayed slowly through the empty
+courts, objects of considerable interest to the youths who had come up
+for the entrance examination--chiefly pale men in rather shabby clothes
+with old gowns and battered caps, and a general appearance of being the
+worse for wear.
+
+Angleside had been in Cambridge before and consequently lost no time in
+returning to Billingsfield when the examination was over. Short was to
+spend the summer at the vicarage, reading hard until the term began, when
+he was to go up and compete for a minor scholarship; Angleside was to
+wait until he heard whether he had passed, and was then going abroad to
+meet his father and to rest from the extreme exertion of mastering the
+"Apology" and the first books of the "Memorabilia." John drove over to
+meet the Honourable Cornelius, who was in a terrible state of anxiety and
+left him no peace on the way asking him again and again to repeat the
+answers to the questions which had been proposed, reckoning up the ones
+he had answered wrong and the ones he thought he might have answered
+right, and coming each time to a different conclusion, finally lighting a
+huge brierwood pipe and swearing "that it was a beastly shame to subject
+human beings to such awful torture." John calmed him by saying he fancied
+Cornelius had "got through"; for John's words were a species of gospel to
+Cornelius. By the time they reached the vicarage Angleside felt sanguine
+of his success.
+
+The vicar was not visible. It was a strange and unheard of thing--there
+were visitors in the drawing-room. This doubtless accounted for the fact
+that the fly from the Duke's Head was standing on the opposite side of
+the road. The two young men went into their study, which was on the
+ground floor and opened upon the passage which led to the drawing-room
+from the little hall. Angleside remarked that by leaving the door open
+they would catch a glimpse of the visitor when he went out. But the
+visitor stayed long. The curiosity of the two was wrought up to a high
+pitch; it was many months since there had been a real visitor at the
+vicarage. Angleside suggested going out and finding old Reynolds--he
+always knew everything that was going on.
+
+"If we only wait long enough," said Short philosophically, "they are sure
+to come out."
+
+"Perhaps," returned Cornelius rather doubtfully.
+
+"They" did come out. The drawing-room door opened and there was a sound
+of voices. It was a woman's voice, and a particularly sweet voice, too.
+Still no one came down the passage. The lady seemed to be lingering in
+taking her leave. Then there was a sound of small feet and suddenly a
+little girl stood before the open door of the study, looking wonderingly
+at the two young men. Short thought he had never seen such a beautiful
+child. She could not have been more than seven or eight years old, and
+was not tall for her age; a delicate little figure, all in black, with
+long brown curls upon her shoulders, flowing abundantly from beneath a
+round black sailor's hat that was set far back upon her head. The child's
+face was rather pale than very fair, of a beautiful transparent paleness,
+with the least tinge of colour in the cheeks; her great violet eyes gazed
+wonderingly into the study, and her lips parted in childlike uncertainty,
+while her little gloved hand rested on the door-post as though to get a
+sense of security from something so solid.
+
+It was only for a moment. Both the young fellows smiled at the child
+unconsciously. Perhaps she thought they were laughing at her; she turned
+and ran away again; then passed a second time, stealing a long glance at
+the two strangers, but followed immediately by the lady, who was probably
+her mother, and whose voice had been heard for the last few moments. The
+lady, too, glanced in as she went by, and John Short lost his heart then
+and there; not that the lady was beautiful as the little girl was, but
+because there was something in her face, in her figure, in her whole
+carriage, that moved the boy suddenly as she looked at him and sent the
+blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead.
+
+She seemed young, but he never thought of her age. In reality she was
+nine-and-twenty years old but looked younger. She was pale, far paler
+than the little girl, but she had those same violet eyes, large, deep and
+sorrowful, beneath dark, smooth eyebrows that arched high and rose a
+little in the middle. Her mouth was perhaps large for her face but her
+full lips curved gently and seemed able to smile, though she was not
+smiling. Her nose was perhaps too small--her face was far from
+faultless--and it had the slightest tendency to turn up instead of down,
+but it was so delicately modelled that an artist would have pardoned it
+that deviation from the classic. Thick brown hair waved across her white
+forehead and was hidden under the black bonnet and the veil thrown back
+over it. She was dressed in black and the close-fitting gown showed off
+with unconscious vanity the lines of a perfectly moulded and perfectly
+supple figure. But it was especially her eyes which attracted John's
+sudden attention at that first glance, her violet eyes, tender, sad,
+almost pathetic, seeming to ask sympathy and marvellously able to command
+it.
+
+It was but for a moment that she paused. Then came the vicar, following
+her from the drawing-room, and all three went on. Presently Short heard
+the front door open and Mr. Ambrose shouted to the fly.
+
+"Muggins! Muggins!"
+
+No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican, had
+christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the least
+of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain Charles
+Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and Muggins he
+remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for the afternoon was
+hot and he had anticipated his "fours."
+
+Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where
+the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse
+the driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed
+close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the
+blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt
+very foolish.
+
+"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the
+summer's sun.
+
+"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping
+Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel.
+Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only the
+young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not mind
+being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and brought the
+fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting.
+
+"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she
+came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then it
+was the turn of the little girl.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand.
+
+"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who
+was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding out
+her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than ever
+as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl blushed
+and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the carriage.
+
+"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door.
+
+"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered the
+lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her voice.
+She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful. Muggins
+cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and his pupil
+standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house.
+
+"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose, rather
+anxiously.
+
+Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would say
+something about the lady, but to his annoyance, he said nothing at all.
+John could not ask questions, seeing it was none of his business and was
+fain to content himself with thinking of the lady's face and voice. He
+felt very uncomfortable at dinner. He thought the excellent Mrs. Ambrose
+eyed him with unusual severity, as though suspecting what he was thinking
+about, and he thought the vicar's grey eye twinkled occasionally with the
+pleasant sense of possessing a secret he had no intention of imparting.
+As a matter of fact Mrs. Ambrose was supremely unconscious of the fact
+that John had seen the lady, and looked at him with some curiosity,
+observing that he seemed nervous and blushed from time to time and was
+more silent than usual. She came to the conclusion that he had been
+working too hard, as usual, and that night requested him to take two
+little pellets of aconite, and to repeat the dose in the morning. Whether
+it was the result of the homoeopathic medicine or of the lapse of a few
+hours and a good night's rest, it is impossible to say; John, however,
+was himself again the next morning and showed no further signs of
+nervousness. But he kept his eyes and ears open, hoping for some news of
+the exquisite creature who had made so profound an impression on his
+heart.
+
+In due time the joyful news arrived from Cambridge that the Honourable
+Cornelius had passed his examination and was at liberty to matriculate at
+the beginning of the term. The intelligence was duly telegraphed to his
+father, and in a few hours came a despatch in answer, full of
+affectionate congratulation and requesting that Cornelius should proceed
+at once to Paris, where his father was waiting for him. The young man
+took an affectionate leave of the vicar, of Mrs. Ambrose and especially
+of John Short, for whom he had conceived an almost superstitious
+admiration; old Reynolds was not forgotten in the farewell, and for
+several days after Angleside's departure the aged gardener was observed
+to walk somewhat unsteadily and to wear a peculiarly thoughtful
+expression; while the vicar observed with annoyance that Strawberry, the
+old mare, was less carefully groomed than usual. Strangely coincident
+with these phenomena was the fact that Simon Gunn's yellow cat seemed to
+have entirely repented of her evil practices, renouncing from the day
+when Cornelius left for Paris her periodical invasion of the asparagus
+beds at the foot of the garden. But the vicar was too practical a man to
+waste time in speculating upon the occult relations of seemingly
+disconnected facts. He applied himself with diligence to the work of
+preparing John Short to compete for the minor scholarship. The labour was
+congenial. He had never taken a pupil so far before, and it was a genuine
+delight to him to bring his own real powers into play at last. As the
+summer wore on, he predicted all manner of success for John Short, and
+his predictions were destined before long to be realised, for John did
+all he promised to do and more also. To have succeeded in pushing the
+Honourable Cornelius through his entrance examination was a triumph
+indeed, but an uninteresting one at best, and one which had no further
+consequences. But to be the means of turning out the senior classic of
+the University was an honour which would not only greatly increase the
+good vicar's reputation but would be to him a source of the keenest
+satisfaction during the remainder of his life; moreover the prospects
+which would be immediately opened to John in case he obtained such a
+brilliant success would be a very material benefit to his unlucky father,
+whose talents yielded him but a precarious livelihood and whose pitiable
+condition had induced his old schoolfellow to undertake the education of
+his son.
+
+Much depended upon John's obtaining one or more scholarships during his
+career at college. To a man of inferior talents the vicar would have
+suggested that it would be wiser to go to a smaller college than Trinity
+where he would have less competition to expect; but as soon as he
+realised John's powers, he made up his mind that it would be precisely
+where competition was hottest that his pupil would have the greatest
+success. He would get something--perhaps his father would make a little
+more money--the vicar even dreamed of lending John a small sum--something
+would turn up; at all events he must go to the largest college and do
+everything in the best possible way. Meanwhile he must work as hard as he
+could during the few months remaining before the beginning of his first
+term.
+
+Whether the lady ever wrote to Mr. Ambrose, John could not ascertain; she
+was never mentioned at the vicarage, and it seemed as though the mystery
+were never to be solved. But the impression she had made upon the young
+man's mind remained and even gained strength by the working of his
+imagination; for he thought of her night and day, treasuring up every
+memory of her that he could recall, building romances in his mind,
+conceiving the most ingenious reasons for the solitary visit she had made
+to the vicarage, and inwardly vowing that if ever he should be at liberty
+to follow his own inclinations he would go out into the world and search
+for her. He was only eighteen then, and of a strongly susceptible
+temperament. He had seen nothing of the world, for even when living in
+London, in a dingy lodging, with his father, he had been perpetually
+occupied with books, reading much and seeing little. Then he had been at
+school, but he had seen the dark side of school life--the side which boys
+who are known to be very poor generally see; and more than ever he had
+resorted to study for comfort and relief from outward ills. Then at last
+he had been transferred to a serener state in the vicarage of
+Billingsfield and had grown up rapidly from a schoolboy to a young man;
+but, as has been said, the feminine element at the vicarage was solely
+represented by Mrs. Ambrose and the monotony of her maternal society was
+varied only by the occasional visits of the mild young Mrs. Edward
+Pewlay. John Short had indeed a powerful and aspiring imagination, but it
+would have been impossible even by straining that faculty to its utmost
+activity to think in the same breath of romance and of Mrs. Ambrose, for
+even in her youth Mrs. Ambrose had not been precisely a romantic
+character. John's fancy was not stimulated by his surroundings, but it
+fed upon itself and grew fast enough to acquire an influence over
+everything he did. It was not surprising that, when at last chance threw
+in his way a being who seemed instantly to realise and fulfil his wildest
+dreams of beauty and feminine fascination, he should have yielded without
+a struggle to the delicious influence, feeling that henceforth his ideal
+had taken shape and substance, and had thereby become more than ever the
+ideal in which he delighted.
+
+He gave her names, a dozen of them every day, christening her after every
+heroine in fiction and history of whom he had ever read. But no name
+seemed to suit her well enough; whereupon he wrote a Greek ode and a
+Latin epistle to the fair unknown, but omitted to show them to the
+Reverend Augustin Ambrose, though he was quite certain that they were the
+best he had ever produced. Then he began to write a novel, but suddenly
+recollected that a famous author had written one entitled "No Name," and
+as that was the only title he could possibly give to the work he
+contemplated he of course had no choice but to abandon the work itself.
+He wrote more verses, and he dreamed more dreams, and he meanwhile
+acquired much learning and in process of time realised that he had but a
+few days longer to stay at Billingsfield. The Michaelmas term was about
+to open and he must bid farewell to the hospitable roof and the learned
+conversation of the good vicar. But when those last days came he realised
+that he was leaving the scene of his only dream, and his heart grew sad.
+
+Indeed he loved the old red brick vicarage with its low porch, overgrown
+with creepers, its fragrant old flower garden, surrounding it on three
+sides, its gabled roof, its south wall whereon the vicar constantly
+attempted to train fig trees, maintaining that the climate of England had
+grown warmer and that he would prove it--John loved it all, and
+especially he loved the little study, lined with the books grown familiar
+to him, and the study door, the door through which he had seen that
+lovely face which he firmly believed was to inspire him to do great
+things and to influence his whole life for ever after. He would leave the
+door open and place himself just where he had sat that day, and then he
+would look suddenly up with beating heart, almost fancying he could again
+see those violet eyes gazing at him from the dusky passage--blushing then
+to himself, like any girl, and burying himself in his book till the fancy
+was grown too strong and he looked up again. He had attempted to sketch
+her face on a bit of paper; but he had no skill and he thrust the drawing
+into the paper basket, horrified at having made anything so hideous in
+the effort to represent anything so beautiful, and returned to making
+odes upon her, and Latin epistles, in which he succeeded much better.
+
+And now the time had come when he must leave all this dreaming, or at
+least the scene of it, and go to college and win scholarships and renown.
+It was hard to go and he showed his regret so plainly that Mrs. Ambrose
+was touched at what she took for his affection for the place and for
+herself and for the vicar. John Short was indeed very grateful to her for
+all the kindness she had shown him, and to Mr. Ambrose for the learning
+he had acquired; for John was a fine fellow and never forgot an
+obligation nor undervalued one. But when we are very young our hearts are
+far more easily touched to joy and sadness by the chords and discords of
+our own dreaming, than by the material doings of the world around us, or
+by the strong and benevolent interest our elders are good enough to take
+in us. We feel grateful to those same elders if we have any good in us,
+but we are far from feeling a similar interest in them. We see in our
+imaginations wonderful pictures, and we hear wonderful words, for
+everything we dream of partakes of an unknown perfection and completely
+throws into the shade the inartistic commonplaces of daily life. As John
+Short grew older, he often regretted the society of his old tutor and in
+the frequent absence of important buttons from his raiment he bitterly
+realised that there was no longer a motherly Mrs. Ambrose to inspect his
+linen; but when he took leave of them what hurt him most was to turn his
+back upon the beloved old study, upon the very door through which he had
+once, and only once, beheld the ideal of his first love dream.
+
+Though the vicar was glad to see the boy started upon what he already
+regarded as a career of certain victory, he was sorry to lose him, not
+knowing when he should see him again. John intended to read through all
+the vacations until he got his degree. He might indeed have come down for
+a day or two at Christmas, but with his very slender resources even so
+short a pleasure trip was not to be thought of lightly. It was therefore
+to be a long separation, so long to look forward to that when John saw
+the shabby little box which contained, all his worldly goods put up into
+the back of the vicar's dogcart, and stood at last in the hall, saying
+good-bye, he felt as though he was being thrust out into the world never
+to return again; his heart seemed to rise in his throat, the tears stood
+in his eyes and he could hardly speak a word. Even then he thought of
+that day when he had waked up the sleepy Muggins to take away the
+beautiful unknown lady. He felt he must be quick about his leave-taking,
+or he would break down.
+
+"You have been very good to me. I--I shall never forget it," he murmured
+as he shook hands with Mrs. Ambrose. "And you, too, sir--" he added
+turning to the vicar. But the old clergyman cut him short, being himself
+rather uncertain about the throat.
+
+"Good-bye, my lad. God bless you. We shall hear of you soon--showing them
+what you can do with your Alcaics--Good-bye."
+
+So John got into the dogcart and was driven off by the ancient
+Reynolds--past the "Duke's Head," past the "Feathers," past the
+churchyard and the croft--the "croat," they called it in
+Billingsfield--and on by the windmill on the heath, a hideous bit of
+grassless common euphemistically so named, and so out to the high-road
+towards the railway station, feeling very miserable indeed. It is a
+curious fact, too, in the history of his psychology that in proportion as
+he got farther from the vicarage he thought more and more of his old
+tutor and less and less of his unfinished dream, and he realised
+painfully that the vicar was nearly the only friend he had in the world.
+He would of course find Cornelius Angleside at Cambridge, but he
+suspected that Cornelius, turned loose among a merry band of
+undergraduates of his own position would be a very different person from
+the idle youth he had known at Billingsfield, trembling in the intervals
+of his idleness at the awful prospect of the entrance examination, and
+frantically attempting to master some bit of stray knowledge which might
+possibly be useful to him. Cornelius would hunt, would gamble, would go
+to the races and would give wines at college; John was to be a reading
+man who must avoid such things as he would avoid the devil himself, not
+only because he was too wretchedly poor to have any share whatever in the
+amusements of Cornelius and his set, but because every minute was
+important, every hour meant not only learning but meant, most
+emphatically, money. He thought of his poor father, grinding out the life
+of a literary hack in a wretched London lodging, dining Heaven knew where
+and generally supping not at all, saving every penny to help his son's
+education, hard working, honest, lacking no virtue except the virtue of
+all virtues--success. Then he thought how he himself had been favoured by
+fortune during these last years, living under the vicar's roof, treated
+with the same consideration as the high-born young gentlemen who had been
+his companions, living well, sleeping well and getting the best education
+in England for nothing or next to nothing, while that same father of his
+had never ceased to slave day and night with his pen, honestly doing his
+best and yet enjoying none of the good things of life. John thought of
+all this and set his teeth boldly to face the world. A few months, he
+thought, and he might have earned a scholarship--he might be independent.
+Then a little longer--less than three years--and he might, nay, he would,
+take high honours in the university and come back crowned with glory,
+with the prospect of a fellowship, with every profession open to him,
+with the world at his feet and with money in his hand to help his father
+out of all his troubles.
+
+That was how John Short went to Trinity. It was a hard struggle at first,
+for he found himself much poorer than he had imagined, and it seemed as
+though the ends could not possibly meet. There was no question of denying
+himself luxuries; that would have been easy enough. In those first months
+it was the necessities that he lacked, the coals for his little grate,
+the oil for his one small lamp. But he fought bravely through it, having,
+like many another young fellow who has weathered the storms of poverty in
+pursuit of learning, an iron constitution, and an even stronger will. He
+used to say long afterwards that feeling cold was a mere habit and that
+when one thoroughly understood the construction of Greek verses, some
+stimulus of physical discomfort was necessary to make the imagination
+work well; in support of which assertion he said that he had never done
+such good things by the comfortable fire in the study at Billingsfield
+vicarage as he did afterwards on winter nights by the light of a tallow
+candle, high up in Neville's Court. Moreover, if any one argued that it
+was better for an extremely poor man not to go to Trinity, but to some
+much smaller college, he answered that as far as he himself was concerned
+he could not have done better, which was quite true and therefore
+perfectly unanswerable. Where the competition was less, he would have
+been satisfied with less, he said; where it was greatest a man could only
+be contented when he had reached the highest point possible. But before
+he attained his end he suffered more than any one knew, especially during
+those first months. For when he had got his first scholarship, he
+insisted upon sending back the little sums of hard-earned money his
+father sent him from time to time, and he consequently had nearly as hard
+work as before to keep himself warm and to keep oil in his lamp during
+the long winter's evenings. But he succeeded, nevertheless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+In the month of October of that year, a short time after John had taken
+up his abode in Trinity College, an event occurred which shook
+Billingsfield to its foundations; no less an event than the occupation of
+the dwelling known as the "cottage." What the cottage was will appear
+hereafter. The arrival of the new tenants occurred in the following
+manner.
+
+The Reverend Augustin Ambrose received a letter, which he immediately
+showed to his wife, as he showed most of his correspondence; for he was
+of the disposition which may be termed wife-consulting. Married men are
+generally of two kinds; those who tell their wives everything and those
+who tell them nothing. It is evident that the relative merits of the two
+systems depend chiefly upon the relative merits of the wives in question.
+Mr. Ambrose had no doubt of the advantages of his own method and he
+carried it to its furthest expression, for he never did anything whatever
+without consulting his better half. On the whole the plan worked well,
+for the vicar had learning and his wife had common sense. He therefore
+showed the letter to her and she read it, and read it again, and finally
+put it away, writing across the envelope in her own large, clear hand the
+words--Goddard, Cottage--indicative of the contents.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"MY DEAR SIR--It is now nearly five months since I saw you last. Need I
+tell you that the sense of your kindness is still fresh in my memory? You
+do not know, indeed you cannot know, what an impression your goodness
+made upon me. You showed me that I was acting rightly. It has been so
+hard to act rightly. Of course you quite understand what I mean. I cannot
+refer to the great sorrow which has overtaken me and my dear innocent
+little Nellie. There is no use in referring to it, for I have told you
+all. You allowed me to unburden my heart to you during my brief visit,
+and ever since that day I have felt very much, I may say infinitely,
+relieved.
+
+"I am again about to ask you a favour; I trust indeed that I am not
+asking too much, but I know by experience how kind you are and so I am
+not afraid to ask this too. Do you remember speaking to me of the little
+cottage? The picture you drew of it quite charmed me, and I have
+determined to take it, that is, if it is still to be let and if it is not
+asking quite too much of you. I mean, if you will take it for me. You
+cannot think how grateful I shall be and I enclose a cheque. I am almost
+sure you said thirty-six pounds. It was thirty-six, was it not? The
+reason I venture to enclose the money is because you are so very kind,
+but of course you do not know anything certain about me. But I am sure
+you will understand. You said you were sure I could live with my little
+girl in Billingsfield for three hundred a year. I find I have a little
+more, in fact nearly five hundred. If you tell me that I can have the
+cottage, I will come down at once, for town is very dreary and we have
+been here all summer except a week at Margate. Let me thank you again,
+you have been so very kind, and believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely
+yours,
+
+"MARY GODDARD."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Augustin, my dear, this is very exciting," said Mrs. Ambrose, as she
+handed the cheque to her husband for inspection and returned the
+letter to its envelope, preparatory to marking it for future reference;
+and when, as has been said, she had written upon the outside the
+words--Goddard, Cottage, and had put it away she turned upon her husband
+with an inquiring manner peculiar to her. Mr. Ambrose was standing before
+the window, looking out at the rain and occasionally glancing at the
+cheque he still held in his hand.
+
+"Just like a woman to send a cheque to 'bearer' through the post," he
+remarked, severely. "However since I have got it, it is all right."
+
+"I don't think it is all right, Augustin," said his wife. "We are taking
+a great responsibility in bringing her into the parish. I am quite sure
+she is a dissenter or a Romanist or something dreadful, to begin with."
+
+"My dear," answered the vicar, mildly, "you make very uncharitable
+suppositions. It seems to me that the most one can say of her is that she
+is very unhappy and that she does not write very good English."
+
+"Oh, I have no doubt she is very unhappy. But as you say we must not be
+uncharitable. I suppose you will have to write about the cottage."
+
+"I suppose so," said Mr. Ambrose doubtfully. "I cannot send her back the
+money, and the cottage is certainly to let."
+
+He deposited the cheque in the drawer of his writing-table and began to
+walk up and down the room, glancing up from time to time at his wife who
+was lifting one after another the ornaments which stood upon the
+chimney-piece, in order to ascertain whether Susan had dusted underneath
+them. She had many ways of assuring herself that people did their work
+properly.
+
+"No," said she, "you cannot send her back the money. But it is a very
+solemn responsibility. I hope we are doing quite right."
+
+"I certainly would not hesitate to return the cheque, my dear, if I
+thought any harm would come of Mrs. Goddard's living here. But I don't
+think there is any reason to doubt her story."
+
+"Of course not. It was in the _Standard_, so there is no doubt about it.
+I only hope no one else reads the papers here."
+
+"They read them in the kitchen," added Mrs. Ambrose presently, "and they
+probably take a paper at the Duke's Head. Mr. Boosey is rather a literary
+character."
+
+"Nobody will suppose it was that Goddard, my dear," said the vicar in a
+reassuring tone of voice.
+
+"No--you had better write about the cottage."
+
+"I will," said the vicar; and he forthwith did. And moreover, with his
+usual willingness to give himself trouble for other people, he took a
+vast deal of pains to see that the cottage was really habitable. It
+turned out to be in very good condition. It was a pretty place enough,
+standing ten yards back from the road, beyond the village, just opposite
+the gates of the park; a little square house of red brick with a high
+pointed roof and a little garden. The walls were overgrown with creepers
+which had once been trained with considerable care, but which during the
+last two years had thriven in untrimmed luxuriance and now covered the
+whole of the side of the house which faced the road. So thickly did they
+grow that it was with difficulty that the windows could at first be
+opened. The vicar sighed as he entered the darkened rooms. His daughter
+had lived in the cottage when she first married the young doctor who had
+now gone to London, and the vicar had been, and was, very fond of his
+daughter. He had almost despaired of ever seeing her again in
+Billingsfield; the only glimpses of her he could obtain were got by going
+himself to town, for the doctor was so busy that he always put off the
+projected visit to the country and his wife was so fond of him that she
+refused to go alone. The vicar sighed as he forced open the windows upon
+the lower floor and let the light into the bare and empty rooms which had
+once been so bright and full of happiness. He wondered what sort of
+person Mrs. Goddard would turn out to be upon nearer acquaintance, and
+made vague, unconscious conjectures about her furniture as he stumbled
+up the dark stairs to the upper story.
+
+He was not left long in doubt. The arrangements were easily concluded,
+for the cottage belonged to the estate in Chancery and the lawyer in
+charge was very busy with other matters. The guarantee afforded by the
+vicar's personal application, together with the payment of a year's rent
+in advance so far facilitated matters that four days after she had
+written to Mr. Ambrose the latter informed Mrs. Goddard that she was at
+liberty to take possession. The vicar suggested that the Billingsfield
+carrier, who drove his cart to London once a week, could bring her
+furniture down in two trips and save her a considerable expense; Mrs.
+Goddard accepted this advice and in the course of a fortnight was
+installed with all her goods in the cottage. Having completed her
+arrangements at last, she came to call upon the vicar's wife.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had not changed since she had first visited Billingsfield,
+five months earlier, though little Eleanor had grown taller and was if
+possible prettier than ever. Something of the character of the lady in
+black may have been gathered from the style of her letter to Mr. Ambrose;
+that communication had impressed the vicar's wife unfavourably and had
+drawn from her husband a somewhat compassionate remark about the bad
+English it contained. Nevertheless when Mrs. Goddard came to live in
+Billingsfield the Ambroses soon discovered that she was a very
+well-educated woman, that she appeared to have read much and to have read
+intelligently, and that she was on the whole decidedly interesting. It
+was long, however, before Mrs. Ambrose entirely conquered a certain
+antipathy she felt for her, and which she explained after her own
+fashion. Mrs. Goddard was not a dissenter and she was not a Romanist; on
+the contrary she appeared to be a very good churchwoman. She paid her
+bills regularly and never gave anybody any trouble. She visited the
+vicarage at stated intervals, and the vicarage graciously returned her
+visits. The vicar himself even went to the cottage more often than Mrs.
+Ambrose thought strictly necessary, for the vicar was strongly prejudiced
+in her favour. But Mrs. Ambrose did not share that prejudice. Mrs.
+Goddard, she said, was too effusive, talked too much about herself and
+her troubles, did not look thoroughly straightforward, probably had
+foreign blood. Ay, there was the rub--Mrs. Ambrose suspected that Mrs.
+Goddard was not quite English. If she was not, why did she not say so,
+and be done with it?
+
+Mrs. Goddard was English, nevertheless, and would have been very much
+surprised could she have guessed the secret cause of the slight coldness
+she sometimes observed in the manner of the clergyman's wife towards her.
+She herself, poor thing, believed it was because she was in trouble, and
+considering the nature of the disaster which had befallen her, she was
+not surprised. She was rather a weak woman, rather timid, and if she
+talked a little too much sometimes it was because she felt embarrassed;
+there were times, too, when she was very silent and sad. She had been
+very happy and the great catastrophe had overtaken her suddenly, leaving
+her absolutely without friends. She wanted to be hidden from the world,
+and by one of those strange contrasts often found in weak people she had
+suddenly made a very bold resolution and had successfully carried it out.
+She had come straight to a man she had never seen, but whom she knew very
+well by reputation, and had told him her story and asked him to help her;
+and she had not come in vain. The person who advised her to go to the
+Reverend Augustin Ambrose knew that there was not a better man to whom
+she could apply. She had found what she wanted, a sort of deserted
+village where she would never be obliged to meet any one, since there was
+absolutely no society; she had found a good man upon whom she felt she
+could rely in case of further difficulty; and she had not come upon false
+pretences, for she had told her whole story quite frankly. For a woman
+who was naturally timid she had done a thing requiring considerable
+courage, and she was astonished at her own boldness after she had done
+it. But in her peaceful retreat, she reflected that she could not
+possibly have left England, as many women in her position would have
+done, simply because the idea of exile was intolerable to her; she
+reflected also that if she had settled in any place where there was any
+sort of society her story would one day have become known, and that if
+she had spent years in studying her situation she could not have done
+better than in going boldly to the vicar of Billingsfield and explaining
+her sad position to him. She had found a haven of rest after many months
+of terrible anxiety and she hoped that she might end her days in peace
+and in the spot she had chosen. But she was very young--not thirty years
+of age yet--and her little girl would soon grow up--and then? Evidently
+her dream of peace was likely to be of limited duration; but she resigned
+herself to the unpleasant possibilities of the future with a good grace,
+in consideration of the advantages she enjoyed in the present.
+
+Mrs. Ambrose was at home when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor came to the
+vicarage. Indeed Mrs. Ambrose was rarely out in the afternoon, unless
+something very unusual called her away. She received her visitor with the
+stern hospitality she exercised towards strangers. The strangers she saw
+were generally the near relations of the young gentlemen whom her husband
+received for educational purposes. She stood in the front drawing-room,
+that is to say, in the most impressive chamber of that fortress which is
+an Englishman's house. It was a formal room, arranged by a fixed rule and
+the order of it was maintained inflexibly; no event could be imagined of
+such terrible power as to have caused the displacement of one of those
+chairs, of one of those ornaments upon the chimney-piece, of one of those
+engravings upon the walls. The walls were papered with one shade of
+green, the furniture was covered with material of another shade of green
+and the well-spared carpet exhibited still a third variety of the same
+colour. Mrs. Ambrose's sense of order did not extend to the simplest
+forms of artistic harmony, but when it had an opportunity of impressing
+itself upon inanimate objects which were liable to be moved, washed or
+dusted, its effects were formidable indeed. She worshipped neatness and
+cleanliness; she left the question of taste to others. And now she stood
+in the keep of her stronghold, the impersonation of moral rectitude and
+of practical housekeeping.
+
+Mrs. Goddard entered rather timidly, followed by little Eleanor whose
+ideas had been so much disturbed by the recent change in her existence,
+that she had grown unusually silent and her great violet eyes were
+unceasingly opened wide to take in the growing wonders of her situation.
+Mrs. Goddard was still dressed in black, as when John Short had seen her
+five months earlier. There was something a little peculiar in her
+mourning, though Mrs. Ambrose would have found it hard to define the
+peculiarity. Some people would have said that if she was really a widow
+her gown fitted a little too well, her bonnet was a little too small, her
+veil a little too short. Mrs. Ambrose supposed that those points were
+suggested by the latest fashions in London and summed up the difficulty
+by surmising that Mrs. Goddard had foreign blood.
+
+"I should have called before," said the latter, deeply impressed by the
+severe appearance of the vicar's wife, "but I have been so busy putting
+my things into the cottage--"
+
+"Pray don't think of it," answered Mrs. Ambrose. Then she added after a
+pause, "I am very glad to see you." She appeared to have been weighing in
+her conscience the question whether she could truthfully say so or not.
+But Mrs. Goddard was grateful for the smallest advances.
+
+"Thank you," she said, "you are so very kind. Will you tell Mr. Ambrose
+how thankful I am for his kind assistance? Yes, Nellie and I have had
+hard work in moving, have not we, dear?" She drew the beautiful child
+close to her and gazed lovingly into her eyes. But Nellie was shy; she
+hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and then looked doubtfully at Mrs.
+Ambrose, and then hid herself again.
+
+"How old is your little girl?" asked Mrs. Ambrose more kindly. She was
+fond of children, and actually pitied any child whose mother perhaps had
+foreign blood.
+
+"Eleanor--I call her Nellie--is eight years old. She will be nine in
+January. She is tall for her age," added Mrs. Goddard with affectionate
+pride. As a matter of fact Nellie was small for her years, and Mrs.
+Ambrose, who was the most truthful of women, felt that she could not
+conscientiously agree in calling hex tall. She changed the subject.
+
+"I am afraid you will find it very quiet in Billingsfield," she said
+presently.
+
+"Oh, I am used--that is, I prefer a very quiet place. I want to live very
+quietly for some years, indeed I hope for the rest of my life. Besides it
+will be so good for Nellie to live in the country--she will grow so
+strong."
+
+"She looks very well, I am sure," answered Mrs. Ambrose rather bluntly,
+looking at the child's clear complexion and bright eyes. "And have you
+always lived in town until now, Mrs. Goddard?" she asked.
+
+"Oh no, not always, but most of the year, perhaps. Indeed I think so."
+Mrs. Goddard felt nervous before the searching glance of the elder woman.
+Mrs. Ambrose concluded that she was not absolutely straightforward.
+
+"Do you think you can make the cottage comfortable?" asked the vicar's
+wife, seeing that the conversation languished.
+
+"Oh, I think so," answered her visitor, glad to change the subject, and
+suddenly becoming very voluble as she had previously been very shy. "It
+is really a charming little place. Of course it is not very large, but as
+we have not got very many belongings that is all the better; and the
+garden is small but extremely pretty and wild, and the kitchen is very
+convenient; really I quite wonder how the people who built it could have
+made it all so comfortable. You see there are one--two--the pantry, the
+kitchen and two rooms on the ground floor and plenty of room upstairs for
+everybody, and as for the sun! it streams into all the windows at once
+from morning till night. And such a pretty view, too, of that old gate
+opposite--where does it lead to, Mrs. Ambrose? It is so very pretty."
+
+"It leads to the park and the Hall," answered Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Oh--" Mrs. Goddard's tone changed. "But nobody lives there?" she asked
+suddenly.
+
+"Oh no--it is in Chancery, you know."
+
+"What--what is that, exactly?" asked Mrs. Goddard, timidly. "Is there a
+young heir waiting to grow up--I mean waiting to take possession?"
+
+"No. There is a suit about it. It has been going on for forty years my
+husband says, and they cannot decide to whom it belongs."
+
+"I see," answered Mrs. Goddard. "I suppose they will never decide now."
+
+"Probably not for some time."
+
+"It must be a very pretty place. Can one go in, do you think? I am so
+fond of trees--what a beautiful garden you have yourself, Mrs. Ambrose."
+
+"Would you like to see it?" asked the vicar's wife, anxious to bring the
+visit to a conclusion.
+
+"Oh, thank you--of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "Would not you
+like to run about the garden, Nellie?"
+
+The little girl nodded slowly and stared at Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"My husband is a very good gardener," said the latter, leading the way
+out to the hall. "And so was John Short, but he has left us, you know."
+
+"Who was John Short?" asked Mrs. Goddard rather absently, as she watched
+Mrs. Ambrose who was wrapping herself in a huge blue waterproof cloak and
+tying a sort of worsted hood over her head.
+
+"He was one of the boys Mr. Ambrose prepared for college--such a good
+fellow. You may have seen him when you came last June, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"Had he very bright blue eyes--a nice face?"
+
+"Yes--that is, it might have been Mr. Angleside--Lord Scatterbeigh's
+son--he was here, too."
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Goddard, "perhaps it was."
+
+"Mamma," asked little Nellie, "what is Laws Catterbay?"
+
+"A peer, darling."
+
+"Like the one at Brighton, mamma, with a band?"
+
+"No, child," answered the mother laughing. "P, double E, R, peer--a rich
+gentleman."
+
+"Like poor papa then?" inquired the irrepressible Eleanor.
+
+Mrs. Goddard turned pale and pressed the little girl close to her side,
+leaning down to whisper in her ear.
+
+"You must not ask foolish questions, darling--I will tell you by and by."
+
+"Papa was a rich gentleman," objected the child.
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked at Mrs. Ambrose, and the ready tears came into her
+eyes. The vicar's wife smiled kindly and took little Nellie by the hand.
+
+"Come, dear," she said in the motherly tone that was natural to her when
+she was not receiving visitors. "Come and see the garden and you can play
+with Carlo."
+
+"Can't I see Laws Catterbay, too?" asked the little girl rather
+wistfully.
+
+"Carlo is a great, big, brown dog," said Mrs. Ambrose, leading the child
+out into the garden, while Mrs. Goddard followed close behind. Before
+they had gone far they came upon the vicar, arrayed in an old coat, his
+hands thrust into a pair of gigantic gardening gloves and a battered old
+felt hat upon his head. Mrs. Goddard had felt rather uncomfortable in the
+impressive society of Mrs. Ambrose and the sight of the vicar's genial
+face was reassuring in the extreme. She was not disappointed, for he
+immediately relieved the situation by asking all manner of kindly
+questions, interspersed with remarks upon his garden, while Mrs. Ambrose
+introduced little Nellie to the acquaintance of Carlo who had not seen so
+pretty a little girl for many a day, and capered and wagged his feathery
+tail in a manner most unseemly for so clerical a dog.
+
+So it came about that Mrs. Goddard established herself at Billingsfield
+and made her first visit to the vicarage. After that the ice was broken
+and things went on smoothly enough. Mrs. Ambrose's hints concerning
+foreign blood, and her husband's invariable remonstrance to the effect
+that she ought to be more charitable, grew more and more rare as time
+went on, and finally ceased altogether. Mrs. Goddard became a regular
+institution, and ceased to astonish the inhabitants. Mr. Thomas Reid, the
+sexton, was heard to remark from time to time that he "didn't hold with
+th'm newfangle fashins in dress;" but he was a regular old conservative,
+and most people agreed with Mr. Abraham Boosey of the Duke's Head, who
+had often been to London, and who said she did "look just A one, slap up,
+she did!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard became an institution, and in the course of the first year
+of her residence in the cottage it came to be expected that she should
+dine at the vicarage at least once a week; and once a week, also, Mr. and
+Mrs. Ambrose went up and had tea with her and little Eleanor at the
+cottage. It came to pass also that Mrs. Goddard heard a vast deal of talk
+about John Short and his successes at Trinity, and she actually developed
+a lively interest in his career, and asked for news of him almost as
+eagerly as though he had been already a friend of her own. In very quiet
+places people easily get into the sympathetic habit of regarding their
+neighbours' interests as very closely allied to their own. The constant
+talk about John Short, the vicar's sanguine hopes for his brilliant
+future, and Mrs. Ambrose's unlimited praise of his moral qualities,
+repeated day by day and week by week produced a vivid impression on Mrs.
+Goddard's mind. It would have surprised her and even amused her beyond
+measure had she had any idea that she herself had for a long time
+absorbed the interest of this same John Short, that he had written
+hundreds of Greek and Latin verses in her praise, while wholly ignorant
+of her name, and that at the very time when without knowing him, she was
+constantly mentioning him as though she knew him intimately well, he
+himself was looking back to the one glimpse he had had of her, as to a
+dream of unspeakable bliss.
+
+It never occurred to Mr. Ambrose's mind to tell John in the occasional
+letters he wrote that Mrs. Goddard had settled in Billingsfield. John, he
+thought, could take no possible interest in knowing about her, and
+moreover, Mrs. Goddard herself was most anxious never to be mentioned
+abroad. She had come to Billingsfield to live in complete obscurity, and
+the good vicar had promised that as far as he and his wife were concerned
+she should have her wish. To tell even John Short, his own beloved pupil,
+would be to some extent a breach of faith, and there was assuredly no
+earthly reason why John should be told. It might do harm, for of course
+the young fellow had made acquaintances at Cambridge; he had probably
+read about the Goddard case in the papers, and might talk about it. If he
+should happen to come down for a day or two he would probably meet her;
+but that could not be avoided. It was not likely that he would come for
+some time. The vicar himself intended to go up to Cambridge for a day or
+two after Christmas to see him; but the winter flew by and Mr. Ambrose
+did not go. Then came Easter, then the summer and the Long vacation. John
+wrote that he could not leave his books for a day, but that he hoped to
+run down next Christmas. Again he did not come, but there came the news
+of his having won another and a more important scholarship; the news also
+that he was already regarded as the most promising man in the university,
+all of which exceedingly delighted the heart of the Reverend Augustin
+Ambrose, and being told with eulogistic comments to Mrs. Goddard, tended
+to increase the interest she felt in the existence of John Short, so that
+she began to long for a sight of him, without exactly knowing why.
+
+Gradually, too, as she and her little girl passed many peaceful days in
+the quiet cottage, the sad woman's face grew less sorrowful. She spoke of
+herself more cheerfully and dwelt less upon the subject of her grief. She
+had at first been so miserable that she could hardly talk at all without
+referring to her unhappy situation though, after her first interview with
+Mrs. Ambrose, no one had ever heard her mention any details connected
+with her trouble. But now she never approached the subject at all. Her
+face lost none of its pathetic beauty, it is true, but it seemed to
+express sorrow past rather than present. Meanwhile little Nellie grew
+daily more lovely, and absorbed more and more of her mother's attention.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Events of such stirring interest as the establishment of Mrs. Goddard in
+Billingsfield rarely come alone; for it seems to be in the nature of
+great changes to bring other changes with them, even when there is no
+apparent connection whatever between them. It took nearly two years for
+Billingsfield to recover from its astonishment at Mrs. Goddard's arrival,
+and before the excitement had completely worn off the village was again
+taken off its feet by unexpected news of stupendous import, even as of
+old Pompeii was overthrown by a second earthquake before it had wholly
+recovered from the devastation caused by the first. The shock was indeed
+a severe one. The Juxon estate was reported to be out of Chancery, and a
+new squire was coming to take up his residence at the Hall.
+
+It is not known exactly how the thing first became known, but there was
+soon no doubt whatever that it was true. Thomas Reid, the sexton, who
+remembered that the old squire died forty years ago come Michaelmas, and
+had been buried in a "wonderful heavy" coffin, Thomas Reid the stern
+censor of the vicar's sermons, a melancholic and sober man, so far lost
+his head over the news as to ask Mr. Ambrose's leave to ring the bells,
+Mr. Abraham Boosey having promised beer for the ringers. Even to the
+vicar's enlightened mind it seemed fitting that there should be some
+festivity over so great an event and the bells were accordingly rung
+during one whole afternoon. Thomas Reid's ringers never got beyond the
+first "bob" of a peal, for with the exception of the sexton himself and
+old William Speller the wheelwright, who pulled the treble bell, they
+were chiefly dull youths who with infinite difficulty had been taught
+what changes they knew by rote and had very little idea of ringing by
+scientific rule. Moreover Mr. Boosey was liberal in the matter of beer
+that day and the effect of each successive can that was taken up the
+stairs of the old tower was immediately apparent to every one within
+hearing, that is to say as far as five miles around.
+
+The estate was out of Chancery at last. For forty years, ever since the
+death of the old squire, no one had rightfully called the Hall his own.
+The heir had lived abroad, and had lived in such an exceedingly eccentric
+manner as to give ground for a suit _de lunatico inquirendo_, brought by
+another heir. With the consistency of judicial purpose which
+characterises such proceedings the courts appeared to have decided that
+though the natural possessor, the eccentric individual who lived abroad,
+was too mad to be left in actual possession, he was not mad enough to
+justify actual possession in the person of the next of kin. Proceedings
+continued, fees were paid, a certain legal personage already mentioned
+came down from time to time and looked over the estate, but the matter
+was not finally settled until the eccentric individual died, after forty
+years of eccentricity, to the infinite relief and satisfaction of all
+parties and especially of his lawful successor Charles James Juxon now,
+at last, "of Billingsfield Hall, in the county of Essex, Esquire."
+
+In due time also Mr. Juxon appeared. It was natural that he should come
+to see the vicar, and as it happened that he called late in the afternoon
+upon the day when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor were accustomed to dine
+at the vicarage, he at once had an opportunity of making the acquaintance
+of his tenant; thus, if we except the free-thinking doctor, it will be
+seen that Mr. Juxon was in the course of five minutes introduced to the
+whole of the Billingsfield society.
+
+He was a man inclining towards middle age, of an active and vigorous
+body, of a moderate intelligence and of decidedly prepossessing
+appearance. His features were of the strong, square type, common to men
+whose fathers for many generations have lived in the country. His eyes
+were small, blue and very bright, and to judge from the lines in his
+sunburned face he was a man who laughed often and heartily. He had an
+abundance of short brown hair, parted very far upon one side and brushed
+to a phenomenal smoothness, and he wore a full brown beard, cut rather
+short and carefully trimmed. He immediately won the heart of Mrs. Ambrose
+on account of his extremely neat appearance. There was no foreign blood
+in him, she was sure. He had large clean hands with large and polished
+nails. He wore very well made clothes, and he spoke like a gentleman.
+The vicar, too, was at once prepossessed in his favour, and even little
+Eleanor, who was generally very shy before strangers, looked at him
+admiringly and showed little of her usual bashfulness. But Mrs. Goddard
+seemed ill at ease and tried to keep out of the conversation as much as
+possible.
+
+"There have been great rejoicings at the prospect of your arrival," said
+the vicar when the new-comer had been introduced to both the ladies. "I
+fancy that if you had let it be known that you were coming down to-day
+the people would have turned out to meet you at the station."
+
+"The truth is, I rather avoid that sort of thing," said the squire,
+smiling. "I would rather enter upon my dominions as quietly as possible."
+
+"It is much better for the people, too," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. "Their
+idea of a holiday is to do no work and have too much beer."
+
+"I daresay that would not hurt them much," answered Mr. Juxon cheerfully.
+"By the bye, I know nothing about them. I have never been here before.
+My man of business wanted to come down and show me over the estate, and
+introduce me to the farmers and all that, but I thought it would be such
+a bore that I would not have him."
+
+"There is not much to tell, really," said Mr. Ambrose. "The society of
+Billingsfield is all here," he added with a smile, "including one of your
+tenants."
+
+"Are you my tenant?" asked Mr. Juxon pleasantly, and he looked at Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"Yes," said she, "I have taken the cottage."
+
+"The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the
+cottage?"
+
+"Such a pretty place," answered Mrs. Ambrose, "just opposite the park
+gate. You must have seen it as you came down."
+
+"Oh, is that it?" said the squire. "Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived
+there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall
+is a perfect wilderness."
+
+Mrs. Goddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into
+his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and
+her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession
+at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The
+idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance,
+and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he
+would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and
+the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors
+at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was
+at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her
+embarrassment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the
+cottage himself.
+
+"Do not be afraid, Mrs. Goddard," he said quickly, "I am not going to do
+anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it
+would be too small, you know."
+
+"Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity
+which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs.
+Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should
+have said that he was married as soon as he entered the room.
+
+"I have a very large family," answered the squire, and after enjoying for
+a moment the surprise he saw in Mrs. Ambrose's face, he added with a
+laugh, "I have a library of ten thousand volumes--a very large family
+indeed. Otherwise I have no encumbrances, thank heaven."
+
+"You are a scholar?" asked Mr. Ambrose eagerly.
+
+"A book fancier, only a book fancier," returned the squire modestly. "But
+I am very fond of the fancy."
+
+"What is a book fancier, mamma?" asked little Eleanor in a whisper. But
+Mr. Juxon heard the child's question.
+
+"If your mamma will bring you up to the Hall one of these days, Miss
+Goddard, I will show you. A book fancier is a terrible fellow who has
+lots of books, and is pursued by a large evil genius telling him he must
+buy every book he sees, and that he will never by any possibility read
+half of them before he dies."
+
+Little Eleanor stared for a moment with her great violet eyes, and then
+turning again to her mother, whispered in her ear.
+
+"Mamma, he called me Miss Goddard!"
+
+"Run out and play in the garden, darling," said her mother with a smile.
+But the child would not go and sat down on a stool and stared at the
+squire, who was immensely delighted.
+
+"So you are going to bring all your library, Mr. Juxon?" asked the vicar
+returning to the charge.
+
+"Yes--and I beg you will make any use of it you please," answered the
+visitor. "I have a great fondness for books and I think I have some
+valuable volumes. But I am no great scholar, as you are, though I read a
+great deal. I have always noticed that the men who accumulate great
+libraries do not know much, and the men who know a great deal have very
+few books. Now I will wager that you have not a thousand volumes in your
+house, Mr. Ambrose."
+
+"Five hundred would be nearer the mark," said the vicar.
+
+"The fewer one has the nearer one approaches to Aquinas's _homo unius
+libri_," returned the squire. "You are nine thousand five hundred degrees
+nearer to ideal wisdom than I am."
+
+Mr. Ambrose laughed.
+
+"Nevertheless," he said, "you may be sure that if you give me leave to
+use your books, I will take advantage of the permission. It is in writing
+sermons that one feels the want of a good library."
+
+"I should think it would be an awful bore to write sermons," remarked the
+squire with such perfect innocence that both the vicar and Mrs. Goddard
+laughed loudly. But Mrs. Ambrose eyed Mr. Juxon with renewed severity.
+
+"I should fancy it would be a much greater bore, as you call it, to the
+congregation if my husband never wrote any new ones," she said stiffly.
+Whereat the squire looked rather puzzled, and coloured a little. But Mr.
+Ambrose came to the rescue.
+
+"Yes, indeed, my wife is quite right. There are no people with such
+terrible memories as churchwardens. They remember a sermon twenty years
+old. But as you say, the writing of sermons is not an easy task when a
+man has been at it for thirty years and more. A man begins by being
+enthusiastic, then his mind gets into a groove and for some time, if he
+happens to like the groove, he writes very well. But by and by he has
+written all there is to be said in the particular line he has chosen and
+he does not know how to choose another. That is the time when a man needs
+a library to help him."
+
+"I really don't think you have reached that point, Mr. Ambrose," remarked
+Mrs. Goddard. She admired the vicar and liked his sermons.
+
+"You are fortunately not in the position of my churchwardens," answered
+Mr. Ambrose. "You have not been listening to me for thirty years."
+
+"How long have you been my tenant, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire.
+
+"Nearly two years," she answered thoughtfully, and her sad eyes rested a
+moment upon Mr. Juxon's face with an expression he remembered. Indeed he
+looked at her very often and as he looked his admiration increased, so
+that when he rose to take his leave the predominant impression of the
+vicarage which remained in his mind was that of her face. Something of
+the same fascination took hold of him which had seized upon John Short
+when he caught sight of Mrs. Goddard through the open door of the study,
+something of that unexpected interest which in Mrs. Ambrose had at first
+aroused a half suspicious dislike, now long forgotten.
+
+Before the squire left he invited the whole party to come and dine with
+him at the Hall on the following Saturday. He must have some kind of a
+house warming, he said, for he was altogether too lonely up there. Mrs.
+Goddard would bring Eleanor, of course; they would dine early--it would
+not be late for the little girl. If they all liked they could call it tea
+instead of dinner. Of course everything was topsy-turvy in the Hall, but
+they would excuse that. He hoped to establish friendly relations with his
+vicar and with his tenant--his fair tenant. Might he call soon and see
+whether there was anything that could be done to improve the cottage?
+Before the day when they were all coming to dine? He would call
+to-morrow, then. Anything that needed doing should be done, Mrs. Goddard
+might be sure. When the books arrived he would let Mr. Ambrose know, of
+course, and they would have a day together.
+
+So he went away, leaving the impression that he was a very good-natured
+and agreeable man. Even Mrs. Ambrose was mollified. He had shocked her by
+his remark about sermon writing, but he had of course not meant it, and
+he appeared to mean to be very civil. It was curious to see how all
+severity vanished from Mrs. Ambrose's manner so soon as the stranger who
+aroused it was out of sight and hearing. She appeared as a formidably
+stern type of the British matron to the chance visitors who came to the
+vicarage; but they were no sooner gone than her natural temper was
+restored and she was kindness and geniality itself.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard was very thoughtful. She was not pleased at the fact of
+an addition to the Billingsfield community, and yet she liked the
+appearance of the squire. He had declared his intention of calling upon
+her on the following day, and she would be bound to receive him. She was
+young, she had been shut off from the world for two years, and the
+prospect of Mr. Juxon's acquaintance was in itself not unpleasant; but
+the idea that he was to be permanently established in the Hall frightened
+her. She had felt since she came to Billingsfield that from the very
+first she had put herself upon a footing of safety by telling her story
+to the vicar. But the vicar would, not without her permission repeat that
+story to Mr. Juxon. Was she herself called upon to do so? She was a very
+sensitive woman, and her impressionable nature had been strongly affected
+by what she had suffered. An almost morbid fear of seeming to make false
+pretences possessed her. She was more than thirty years of age, it is
+true, but she saw plainly enough in her glass that she was more than
+passably good-looking still. There were one or two grey threads in her
+brown waving hair and she took no trouble to remove them; no one ever
+noticed them. There were one or two lines, very faint lines, in her
+forehead; no one ever saw them. She could hardly see them herself.
+Supposing--why should she not suppose it?--supposing Mr. Juxon were to
+take a fancy to her, as a lone bachelor of forty and odd might easily
+take a fancy to a pretty woman who was his tenant and lived at his gate,
+what should she do? He was an honest man, and she was a conscientious
+woman; she could not deceive him, if it came to that. She would have to
+tell him the whole truth. As she thought of it, she turned pale and
+trembled. And yet she had liked his face, she had told him he might call
+at the cottage, and her woman's instinct foresaw that she was to see him
+often. It was not vanity which made her think that the squire might grow
+to like her too much. She had had experiences in her life and she knew
+that she was attractive; the very fear she had felt for the last two
+years lest she should be thrown into the society of men who might be
+attracted by her, increased her apprehension tenfold. She could not look
+forward with indifference to the expected visit, for the novelty of
+seeing any one besides the vicar and his wife was too great; she could
+not refuse to see the squire, for he would come again and again until she
+received him; and yet, she could not get rid of the idea that there was
+danger in seeing him. Call it as one may, that woman's instinct of peril
+is rarely at fault.
+
+In the late twilight of the June evening Mrs. Goddard and Eleanor waited
+home together by the broad road which led towards the park gate.
+
+"Don't you think Mr. Juxon is very kind, mamma?" asked the child.
+
+"Yes, darling, I have no doubt he is. It was very good of him to ask you
+to go to the Hall."
+
+"And he called me Miss Goddard," said Eleanor. "I wonder whether he will
+always call me Miss Goddard."
+
+"He did not know your name was Nellie," explained her mother.
+
+"Oh, I wish nobody knew, mamma. It was so nice. When shall I be grown up,
+mamma?"
+
+"Soon, my child--too soon," said Mrs. Goddard with a sigh. Nellie looked
+at her mother and was silent for a minute.
+
+"Mamma, do you like Mr. Juxon?" she asked presently.
+
+"No, dear--how can one like anybody one has only seen once?"
+
+"Oh--but I thought you might," said Nellie. "Don't you think you will,
+mamma? Say you will--do!"
+
+"Why?" asked her mother in some surprise. "I cannot say anything about
+it. I daresay he is very nice."
+
+"It will be so delightful to go to the Hall to dinner and be waited
+on by big real servants--not like Susan at the vicarage, or Martha. Won't
+you like it, mamma? Of course Mr. Juxon will have real servants, just
+like--like poor papa." Nellie finished her speech rather doubtfully as
+though not sure how her mother would take it. Mrs. Goddard sighed again,
+but said nothing. She could not stop the child's talking--why should
+Nellie not speak of her father? Nellie did not know.
+
+"I think it will be perfectly delightful," said Nellie, seeing she got no
+answer from her mother, and as though putting the final seal of
+affirmation to her remarks about the Hall. But she appeared to be
+satisfied at not having been contradicted and did not return to the
+subject that evening.
+
+Mr. Juxon lost no time in keeping his word and on the following morning
+at about eleven o'clock, when Mrs. Goddard was just hearing the last of
+Nellie's lesson in geography and little Nellie herself was beginning to
+be terribly tired of acquiring knowledge in such very warm weather, the
+squire's square figure was seen to emerge from the park gate opposite,
+clad in grey knickerbockers and dark green stockings, a rose in his
+buttonhole and a thick stick in his hand, presenting all the traditional
+appearance of a thriving country gentleman of the period. He crossed the
+road, stopped a moment and whistled his dog to heel and then opened the
+wicket gate that led to the cottage. Nellie sprang to the window in wild
+excitement.
+
+"Oh what a dog!" she cried. "Mamma, _do_ come and see! And Mr. Juxon is
+coming, too--he has green stockings!"
+
+But Mrs. Goddard, who was not prepared for so early a visit, hastily put
+away what might be described as the debris of Nellie's lessons, to wit, a
+much thumbed book of geography, a well worn spelling book, a very
+particularly inky piece of blotting paper, a pen of which most of the
+stock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for
+several months, and an ancient doll, without the assistance of which, as
+a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could
+not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them,
+Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the
+time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was
+beginning to echo in the small passage, Mrs. Goddard had passed to the
+consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but
+in other respects she was presentable.
+
+"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her
+mother.
+
+"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing
+look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one
+moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky
+fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his
+coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of
+some gigantic beast plunging into the passage as the front door was
+opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured
+laugh from the squire.
+
+"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a
+dog he is, sir--"
+
+"Is Mrs. Goddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the
+collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire
+looked in. Martha fled down the passage.
+
+"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to
+exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage.
+
+"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression
+of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!"
+
+"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr.
+Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed
+and was glad of the diversion.
+
+"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a
+little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs.
+Goddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder,
+he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was
+given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a
+big dog is not it?"
+
+"Very," said Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an
+exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he
+combined with his gigantic strength and size a grace and swiftness of
+motion which no mastiff can possess. His smooth clean coat, of a
+perfectly even slate colour throughout, was without folds, close as a
+greyhound's, showing every articulation and every swelling muscle of his
+body. His broad square head and monstrous jaw betrayed more of the
+quickness and sudden ferocity of the tiger than those suggested by the
+heavy, lion-like jowl of the English mastiff. His ears, too, were close
+cropped, in accordance with the Russian fashion, and somehow the
+compactness this gave to his head seemed to throw forward and bring into
+prominence his great fiery eyes, that reflected red lights as he moved,
+and did not tend to inspire confidence in the timid stranger.
+
+"Do sit down," said Mrs. Goddard, and when the squire was seated Stamboul
+sat himself down upon his haunches beside him, and looked slowly from his
+master to the lady and back again, his tongue hanging out as though
+anxious to hear what they might have to say to each other.
+
+"I thought I should be sure to find you in the morning," began Mr. Juxon,
+after a pause. "I hope I have not disturbed you?"
+
+"Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished her lessons."
+
+"The fact is," continued the squire, "that I was going to survey the
+nakedness of the land which has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of
+the park I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist the
+temptation of calling. I had no idea we were such near neighbours."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "it is very near."
+
+Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not exactly at a loss for words,
+but Mrs. Goddard did not seem inclined to encourage the conversation. He
+saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable but that its
+arrangement betrayed a considerable taste for luxury. The furniture was
+of a kind not generally seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed
+part of some great establishment. The carpet itself was of a finer and
+softer kind than any at the Hall. The writing-table was a piece of richly
+inlaid work, and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe and
+valuable kind that are seen in rich men's houses. A clock which was
+undoubtedly of the Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece. On
+the walls were hung three or four pictures which, Mr. Juxon thought, must
+be both old and of great value. Upon a little table by the fireplace lay
+four or five objects of Chinese jade and Japanese ivory and a silver
+chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw, and wondered why such a
+very pretty woman, who possessed such very pretty things, should choose
+to come and live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield. And
+having seen and wondered he became interested in his charming tenant and
+endeavoured to carry on the conversation in a more confidential strain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"You have done more towards beautifying the cottage than I could have
+hoped to do," said Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one
+hand on Stamboul's great head.
+
+"It was very pretty of itself," answered Mrs. Goddard, "and fortunately
+it is not very big, or my things would look lost in it."
+
+"I should not say that--you have so many beautiful things. They seem to
+suit the place so well. I am sure you will never think of taking them
+away."
+
+"Not if I can help it--I am too glad to be quiet."
+
+"You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire.
+
+"No--not exactly that--only a little, after all. I have not been to
+Constantinople for instance," she added looking at the hound Mr. Juxon
+had brought from the East. "You are indeed a traveller."
+
+"I have travelled all my life," said the squire, indifferently, as though
+the subject of his wanderings did not interest him. "From what little I
+have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will find all the quiet you could
+wish, here. Really, I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for
+information. What sort of man is that excellent rector down there, whom I
+met last night?"
+
+The squire's tone became more confidential as he put the question.
+
+"Well--he is not a rector, to begin with," answered Mrs. Goddard with a
+smile, "he is the vicar, and he is a most good man, whom I have always
+found most kind."
+
+"I can readily fancy that," said Mr. Juxon. "But his wife seems to be of
+the severe type."
+
+"No--she struck me so at first, too. I think it is only with strangers.
+She is such a motherly sort of woman, you do not know! She only has that
+little manner when you first meet her."
+
+"What a strange thing that is!" remarked the squire, looking at Mrs.
+Goddard. "The natural belief of English people in each other's depravity
+until they have had time to make acquaintance! And is there no one else
+here--no doctor--no doctor's wife?"
+
+"Not a soul," answered Mrs. Goddard. "There is a doctor, but the vicarage
+suspects him of free thought. He certainly never goes to church. He has
+no wife."
+
+"This is the most Arcadian retreat I ever was in. Upon my word, I am a
+very lucky man."
+
+"I suppose that it must be a relief when one has travelled so much,"
+replied Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Or suffered very much," added the squire, half unconsciously, looking at
+her sad face.
+
+"Yes," she answered. At that moment the door opened and Nellie entered
+the room, having successfully grappled with the inkstains. She went
+straight to the squire, and held out her hand, blushing a little, but
+looking very pretty. Then she saw the huge head of Stamboul who looked up
+at her with a ferociously agreeable canine smile, and thwacked the carpet
+with his tail as he sat; Nellie started back.
+
+"Oh, what a dog!" she exclaimed. But very soon she was on excellent
+terms with him; little Nellie was not timid, and Stamboul, who liked
+people who were not afraid of him and was especially fond of children,
+did his best to be amusing.
+
+"He is a very good dog," remarked Mr. Juxon. "He once did me a very good
+service."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"I was riding in the Belgrade forest one summer. I was alone with
+Stamboul following. A couple of ruffians tried to rob me. Stamboul caught
+one of them."
+
+"Did he hurt him very much?"
+
+"I don't know--he killed him before the fellow could scream, and I shot
+the other," replied the squire calmly.
+
+"What a horrible story!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, turning pale. "Come
+here, Nellie--don't touch that dreadful dog!"
+
+"Do not be afraid--he is perfectly harmless. Come here Stamboul!" The
+huge beast obeyed, wagging his tail, and sat down at his master's feet,
+still looking rather wistfully at Nellie who had been playing with him.
+"You see," continued Mr. Juxon, "he is as quiet as a lamb--would not hurt
+a fly!"
+
+"I think it is dreadful to have such animals about," said Mrs. Goddard in
+a low voice, still looking at the dog with horror.
+
+"I am sorry I told you. It may prejudice you against him. I only meant to
+explain how faithful he is, that is all. You see a man grows fond of a
+creature that has saved his life."
+
+"I suppose so, but it is rather startling to see such an animal so near
+to one. I fear I am very nervous."
+
+"By the bye." said the squire with the bold irrelevancy of a man who
+wants to turn the subject, "are you fond of flowers?"
+
+"I?" said Mrs. Goddard in surprise. "Yes--very. Why?"
+
+"I thought you would not mind if I had the garden here improved a little.
+One might put in a couple of frames. I did not see any flowers about. I
+am so fond of them myself, you see, that I always look for them."
+
+"You are very kind," answered Mrs. Goddard. "But I would not have you
+take any trouble on my account. We are so comfortable and so fond of the
+cottage already--"
+
+"Well, I hope you will grow to like it even better," returned the squire
+with a genial smile. "Anything I can do, you know--" he rose as though to
+take his leave. "Excuse me, but may I look at that picture? Andrea del
+Sarto? Yes, I thought so--wonderful--upon my word, in a cottage in
+Billingsfield. Where did you find it?"
+
+"It was my husband's," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Ah--ah, yes," said the squire in a subdued tone. "I beg your pardon," he
+added, as people often do, unconsciously, when they fancy they have
+accidentally roused in another a painful train of thought. Then he turned
+to go. "We dine at half-past seven, you know, so as to be early for Miss
+Nellie," he said, as he went out.
+
+Mrs. Goddard was glad he was gone, though she felt that he was not
+unsympathetic. The story of the dog had frightened her, and her own
+mention of her husband had made her nervous and sad. More than ever she
+felt that fear of being in a false position, which had assailed her when
+she had first met the squire on the previous evening. He had at once
+opened relations with her in a way which showed that he intended to be
+intimate; he had offered to improve her cottage, had insisted upon making
+frames in her garden, had asked her to dinner with the Ambroses and had
+established the right to talk to her whenever he got a chance. He
+interested her, too, which was worse. His passing references to his
+travels and to his adventures, of which he spoke with the indifference
+of a man accustomed to danger, his unassuming manner, his frank
+ways--everything about him awakened her interest. She had supposed that
+in two years the very faculty of being interested by a man would be
+dulled if not destroyed; she found to her annoyance that though she had
+seen Mr. Juxon only twice she could not put him out of her thoughts. She
+was, moreover, a nervous, almost morbid, woman, and the natural result of
+trying to forget his existence was that she could think of nothing else.
+
+How much better it would be, she thought, if he knew her story from the
+first. He might then be as friendly as he pleased; there would be no
+danger in it, to him or to her. She almost determined to go at once and
+ask the vicar's advice. But by the time she had nearly made up her mind
+it was the hour for luncheon, and little Nellie's appetite was exigent.
+By the time lunch was over her determination had changed. She had
+reflected that the vicar would think her morbid, that, with his usual
+good sense, he would say there was no necessity for telling the squire
+anything; indeed, that to do so would be undignified. If the squire were
+indeed going to lead the life of a recluse as he proposed doing, he was
+not really a man to cause her any apprehension. If he had travelled about
+the world for forty years, without having his heart disturbed by any of
+the women he must have met in that time, he was certainly not the kind of
+man, when once he had determined to settle in his home, to fall in love
+with the first pretty woman he met. It was absurd; there was no
+likelihood of it; it was her own miserable vanity, she told herself,
+which made the thing seem probable, and she would not think any more
+about it. She, a woman thirty-one years of age, with a daughter who ere
+long would be growing up to womanhood! To be afraid of a mere stranger
+like Mr. Juxon--afraid lest he should fall in love with her! Could
+anything be more ridiculous? Her duty was to live quietly as she had
+lived before, to take no more notice of the squire than was necessary in
+order to be civil, and so all would be well.
+
+And so it seemed for a long time. The squire improved the garden of the
+cottage and Mrs. Goddard and Nellie, with the Ambroses, dined at the
+Hall, which at first seemed an exceedingly dreary and dismal place, but
+which, as they returned thither again and again, grew more and more
+luxurious, till the transformation was complete. Mr. Juxon brought all
+manner of things to the house; vans upon vans arrived, laden with boxes
+of books and pictures and oriental carpets and rare objects which the
+squire had collected in his many years of travel, and which he appeared
+to have stored in London until he had at last inherited the Hall. The
+longer the Ambroses and Mrs. Goddard knew him, the more singularly
+impressed they were with his reticence concerning himself. He appeared to
+have been everywhere, to have seen everything, and he had certainly
+brought back a vast collection of more or less valuable objects from his
+travels, besides the large library he had accumulated and which contained
+many rare and curious editions of ancient books. He was evidently a man
+of very good education, and a much better scholar than he was willing to
+allow. The vicar delighted in his society and when the two found
+themselves together in the great room which Mr. Juxon had lined with
+well-filled shelves, they remained for hours absorbed in literary and
+scholastic talk. But whenever the vicar approached the subject of the
+squire's past life, the latter became vague and gave ambiguous answers to
+any direct questions addressed to him. He evidently disliked talking of
+himself, though he would talk about anything else that occurred to him
+with a fluency which Mrs. Ambrose declared was the only un-English thing
+about him. The consequence was that the vicar became more and more
+interested in his new acquaintance, and though the squire was so frank
+and honest a man that it was impossible to suspect him of any doubtful
+action in the past, Mr. Ambrose suspected that he had a secret. Indeed
+after hearing the story Mrs. Goddard had confided to his ears, nothing
+would have surprised the vicar. After finding that so good, so upright
+and so honourable a woman as the fair tenant of the cottage could be put
+into such a singularly painful position as that in which she now found
+herself, it was not hard to imagine that this singular person who had
+inherited the Hall might also have some weighty reason for loving the
+solitude of Billingsfield.
+
+To chronicle the small events which occurred in that Arcadian parish,
+would be to overstep the bounds of permissible tediousness. In such
+places all events move slowly and take long to develop to their results.
+The passions which in our own quickly moving world spring up, flourish,
+wither and are cut down in a month require, when they are not stimulated
+by the fertilising heat of artificial surroundings, a longer period for
+their growth; and when that growth is attained they are likely to be
+stronger and more deeply rooted. It is not true that the study of them is
+less interesting, nor that they have less importance in themselves. The
+difficulty of narrative is greater when they are to be described, for it
+is necessary to carry the imagination in a short time over a long period,
+to show how from small incidents great results follow, and to show also
+how the very limited and trivial nature of the surroundings may cause
+important things to be overlooked. Amidst such influences acquaintance is
+soon made between the few persons so thrown together, but each is apt to
+regard such new acquaintance merely as bearing upon his or her own
+particular interests. It is surprising to see how people will live side
+by side in solitude, even in danger, in distant settlements, in the
+mining districts of the West, in up-country stations in India, on board
+ship, even, for months and years, without knowing anything of each
+other's previous history; whereas in the crowded centres of civilisation
+and society the first questions are "Where does he come from?" "What are
+his antecedents?" "What has he done in the world?" And unless a man can
+answer such inquiries to the general satisfaction he is likely to be
+heavily handicapped in the social race. But in more primitive situations
+men are ruled by more primitive feelings of mutual respect; it is
+considered that a man should not be pressed to speak of things he shows
+no desire to discuss and that, provided he does not interfere with his
+neighbour's wellbeing, his past life is nobody's business. One may feel
+curiosity concerning him, but under no circumstances is one justified in
+asking questions.
+
+For these reasons, although Mr. Juxon's arrival and instalment in the
+Hall were regarded with satisfaction by the little circle at
+Billingsfield, while he himself was at once received into intimacy and
+treated with cordial friendliness, he nevertheless represented in the
+minds of all an unsolved enigma. And to the squire the existence of one
+of the circle was at least as problematical as his own life could seem to
+any of them. The more he saw of Mrs. Goddard, the more he wondered at her
+and speculated about her and the less he dared to ask her any questions.
+But he understood from Mr. Ambrose's manner, that the vicar at least was
+in possession of her secret, and he inferred from what he was able to
+judge about the vicar's character that the latter was not a man to extend
+his friendship to any one who did not deserve it. Whatever Mrs. Goddard's
+story was, he felt sure that her troubles had not been caused by her own
+misconduct. She was in every respect what he called a good woman. Of
+course, too, she was a widow; the way in which she spoke of her husband
+implied that, on those rare occasions when she spoke of him at all.
+Charles James Juxon was a gentleman, whatever course of life he had
+followed before settling in the country, and he did not feel that he
+should be justified in asking questions about Mrs. Goddard of the vicar.
+Besides, as time went on and he found his own interest in her increasing,
+he began to nourish the hope that he might one day hear her story from
+her own lips. In his simplicity it did not strike him that he himself had
+grown to be an object of interest to her.
+
+Somehow, during the summer and autumn of that year, Mrs. Goddard
+contracted a habit of watching the park gate from the window of the
+cottage, particularly at certain hours of the day. It was only a habit,
+but it seemed to amuse her. She used to sit in the small bay window with
+her books, reading to herself or teaching Nellie, and it was quite
+natural that from time to time she should look out across the road. But
+it rarely happened, when she was installed in that particular place, that
+Mr. Juxon failed to appear at the gate, with his dog Stamboul, his green
+stockings, his stick and the inevitable rose in his coat. Moreover he
+generally crossed the road and, if he did not enter the cottage and spend
+a quarter of an hour in conversation, he at least spoke to Mrs. Goddard
+through the open window. It was remarkable, too, that as time went on
+what at first had seemed the result of chance, recurred with such
+invariable regularity as to betray the existence of a fixed rule. Nellie,
+too, who was an observant child, had ceased asking questions but watched
+her mother with her great violet eyes in a way that made Mrs. Goddard
+nervous. Nellie liked the squire very much but though she asked her
+mother very often at first whether she, too, was fond of that nice Mr.
+Juxon, the answers she received were not encouraging. How was it
+possible, Mrs. Goddard asked, to speak of liking anybody one had known so
+short a time? And as Nellie was quite unable to answer such an inquiry,
+she desisted from her questions and applied herself to the method of
+personal observation. But here, too, she was met by a hopeless
+difficulty. The squire and her mother never seemed to have any secrets,
+as Nellie would have expressed it. They met daily, and daily exchanged
+very much the same remarks concerning the weather, the garden, the
+vicar's last sermon. When they talked about anything else, they spoke of
+books, of which the squire lent Mrs. Goddard a great number. But this was
+a subject which did not interest Nellie very much; she was not by any
+means a prodigy in the way of learning, and though she was now nearly
+eleven years old was only just beginning to read the Waverley novels. On
+one occasion she remarked to her mother that she did not believe a word
+of them and did not think they were a bit like real life, but the
+momentary fit of scepticism soon passed and Nellie read on contentedly,
+not omitting however to watch her mother in order to find out, as her
+small mind expressed it, "whether mamma really liked that nice Mr.
+Juxon." Events were slowly preparing themselves which would help her to
+come to a satisfactory conclusion upon that matter.
+
+Mr. Juxon himself was in a very uncertain state of mind. After knowing
+Mrs. Goddard for six months, and having acquired the habit of seeing her
+almost every day, he found to his surprise that she formed a necessary
+part of his existence. It need not have surprised him, for in spite of
+that lady's surmise with regard to his early life, he was in reality a
+man of generous and susceptible temperament. He recognised in the
+charming tenant of the cottage many qualities which he liked, and he
+could not deny that she was exceedingly pretty. Being a strong man he was
+particularly attracted by the pathetic expression of her face, the
+perpetual sadness that was visible there when she was not momentarily
+interested or amused. Had he suspected her paleness and air of secret
+suffering to be the result of any physical infirmity, she would not have
+interested him so much. But Mrs. Goddard's lithe figure and easy grace of
+activity belied all idea of weakness. It was undoubtedly some hidden
+suffering of mind which lent that sadness to her voice and features, and
+which so deeply roused the sympathies of the squire. At the end of six
+months Mr. Juxon was very much interested in Mrs. Goddard, but despite
+all his efforts to be agreeable he seemed to have made no progress
+whatever in the direction of banishing her cares. To tell the truth, it
+did not enter his mind that he was in love with her. She was his tenant;
+she was evidently very unhappy about something; it was therefore
+undeniably his duty as a landlord and as a gentleman to make life
+easy for her.
+
+He wondered what the matter could be. At first he had been inclined to
+think that she was poor and was depressed by poverty. But though she
+lived very simply, she never seemed to be in difficulties. Five hundred
+pounds a year go a long way in the village of Billingsfield. It was
+certainly not want of money which made her unhappy. The interest of the
+sum represented by the pictures hung in her little sitting-room, not to
+mention the other objects of value she possessed, would have been alone
+sufficient to afford her a living. The squire himself would have given
+her a high price for these things, but in six months she never in the
+most distant manner suggested that she wished to part with them. The idea
+then naturally suggested itself to Mr. Juxon's mind that she was still
+mourning for her husband, and that she would probably continue to mourn
+for him until some one, himself for instance, succeeded in consoling her
+for so great a loss.
+
+The conclusion startled the squire. That was not precisely the part he
+contemplated playing, nor the species of consolation he proposed to
+offer. Mrs. Goddard was indeed a charming woman, and the squire liked
+charming women and delighted in their society. But Mr. Juxon was a
+bachelor of more than forty years standing, and he had never regarded
+marriage as a thing of itself, for himself, desirable. He immediately
+thrust the idea from his mind with a mental "_vade retro Satanas_!" and
+determined that things were very agreeable in their present state, and
+might go on for ever; that if Mrs. Goddard was unhappy that did not
+prevent her from talking very pleasantly whenever he saw her, which was
+nearly every day, and that her griefs were emphatically none of his
+business. Before very long however Mr. Juxon discovered that though it
+was a very simple thing to make such a determination it was a very
+different thing to keep it. Mrs. Goddard interested him too much. When he
+was with her he was perpetually longing to talk about herself instead of
+about the weather and the garden and the books, and once or twice he was
+very nearly betrayed into talking about himself, a circumstance so
+extraordinary that Mr. Juxon imagined he must be either ill or going mad,
+and thought seriously of sending for the doctor. He controlled the
+impulse, however, and temporarily recovered; but strange to say from that
+time forward the conversation languished when he found himself alone with
+Mrs. Goddard, and it seemed very hard to maintain their joint interest in
+the weather, the garden and the books at the proper standard of
+intensity. They had grown intimate, and familiarity had begun to breed a
+contempt of those petty subjects upon which their intimacy had been
+founded. It is not clear why this should be so, but it is true,
+nevertheless, and many a couple before Charles Juxon and Mary Goddard had
+found it out. As the interest of two people in each other increases their
+interest in things, as things, diminishes in like ratio, and they are
+very certain ultimately to reach that point described by the Frenchman's
+maxim--"a man should never talk to a woman except of herself or himself."
+
+If Mr. Juxon was not in love with Mary Goddard he was at least rapidly
+approaching a very dangerous state; for he saw her every day and could
+not let one day go by without seeing her, and moreover he grew silent in
+her company, to a degree which embarrassed her and made him feel himself
+more stupid than he had ever dreamed possible; so that he would sometimes
+stay too long, in the hope of finding something to say, and sometimes he
+would leave her abruptly and go and shut himself up with his books, and
+busy himself with his catalogues and his bindings and the arrangement of
+his rare editions. One day at last, he felt that he had behaved so very
+absurdly that he was ashamed of himself, and suddenly disappeared for
+nearly a week. When he returned he said he had been to town to attend a
+great sale of books, which was perfectly true; he did not add that the
+learned expert he employed in London could have done the business for him
+just as well. But the trip had done him no good, for he grew more silent
+than ever, and Mrs. Goddard even thought his brown face looked a shade
+paler; but that might have been the effect of the winter weather.
+Ordinary sunburn she reflected, as she looked at her own white skin in
+the mirror, will generally wear off in six months, though freckles will
+not.
+
+If Mr. Juxon was not in love, it would be very hard to say what Mary
+Goddard felt. It was not true that time was effacing the memory of the
+great sorrow she had suffered. It was there still, that memory, keen and
+sharp as ever; it would never go away again so long as she lived. But she
+had been soothed by the quiet life in Billingsfield; the evidences of the
+past had been removed far from her, she had found in the Reverend
+Augustin Ambrose one of those rare and manly natures who can keep a
+secret for ever without ever referring to its existence even with the
+person who has confided it. For a few days she had hesitated whether to
+ask the vicar's advice about Mr. Juxon or not. She had thought it her
+duty to allow Mr. Ambrose to tell the squire whatever he thought fit of
+her own story. But she had changed her mind, and the squire had remained
+in ignorance. It was best so, she thought; for now, after more than six
+months, Mr. Juxon had taken the position of a friend towards her, and, as
+she thought, showed no disposition whatever to overstep the boundaries of
+friendship. The regularity of his visits and the sameness of the
+conversation seemed of themselves a guarantee of his simple goodwill. It
+did not strike her as possible that if he were going to fall in love with
+her at all, that catastrophe should be postponed beyond six months from
+their first acquaintance. Nor did it seem extraordinary to her that she
+should actually look forward to those visits, and take pleasure in that
+monotonous intercourse. Her life was very quiet; it was natural that she
+should take whatever diversion came in her way, and should even be
+thankful for it. Mr. Juxon was an honest gentleman, a scholar and a man
+who had seen the world. If what he said was not always very original it
+was always very true, a merit not always conceded to the highest
+originality. He spoke intelligently; he told her the news; he lent her
+the newest books and reviews, and offered her his opinions upon them,
+with the regularity of a daily paper. In such a place, where
+communications with the outer world seemed as difficult as at the
+antipodes, and where the remainder of society was limited to the
+household of the vicarage, what wonder was it if she found Mr. Juxon an
+agreeable companion, and believed the companionship harmless?
+
+But far down in the involutions of her feminine consciousness there was
+present a perpetual curiosity in regard to the squire, a curiosity she
+never expected to satisfy, but was wholly unable to repress. Under the
+influence of this feeling she made remarks from time to time of an
+apparently harmless nature, but which in the squire promoted that strange
+inclination to talk about himself, which he had lately observed and which
+caused him so much alarm. He said to himself that he had nothing to be
+concealed, and that if any one had asked him direct questions concerning
+his past he would have answered them boldly enough. But he knew himself
+to be so singularly averse to dwelling on his own affairs that he
+wondered why he should now be impelled to break through so good a rule.
+Indeed he had not the insight to perceive that Mrs. Goddard lost no
+opportunity of leading him to the subject of his various adventures, and,
+if he had suspected it, he would have been very much surprised.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were far from guessing what an intimacy had sprung
+up between the two. Both the cottage and the Hall lay at a considerable
+distance from the vicarage, and though Mrs. Ambrose occasionally went to
+see Mrs. Goddard at irregular hours in the morning and afternoon, it was
+remarkable that the squire never called when she was there. Once Mrs.
+Ambrose arrived during one of his visits, but thought it natural enough
+that Mr. Juxon should drop in to see his tenant. Indeed when she called
+the two were talking about the garden--as usual.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+John Short had almost finished his hard work at college. For two years
+and a half he had laboured on acquiring for himself reputation and a
+certain amount of more solid advantage in the shape of scholarships.
+Never in that time had he left Cambridge even for a day unless compelled
+to do so by the regulations of his college. His father had found it hard
+to induce him to come up to town; and, being in somewhat easier
+circumstances since John had declared that he needed no further help to
+complete his education, he had himself gone to see his son more than
+once. But John had never been to Billingsfield and he knew nothing of the
+changes that had taken place there. At last, however, Short felt that he
+must have some rest before he went up for honours; he had grown thin and
+even pale; his head ached perpetually, and his eyes no longer seemed so
+good as they had been. He went to a doctor, and the doctor told him that
+with his admirable constitution a few days of absolute rest would do all
+that was necessary. John wrote to Mr. Ambrose to say that he would at
+last accept the invitation so often extended and would spend the week
+between Christmas and New Year's day at Billingsfield.
+
+There were great rejoicings at the vicarage. John had never been
+forgotten for a day since he had left, each successive step in his career
+had been hailed with hearty delight, and now that at last he was coming
+back to rest himself for a week before the final effort Mrs. Ambrose was
+as enthusiastic as her husband. Even Mrs. Goddard, who was not quite sure
+whether she had ever seen John or not, and the squire who had certainly
+never seen him, joined in the general excitement. Mrs. Goddard asked the
+entire party to tea at the cottage and the squire asked them to come and
+skate at the Hall and to dine afterwards; for the weather was cold and
+the vicar said John was a very good skater. Was there anything John could
+not do? There was nothing he could not do much better than anybody else,
+answered Mr. Ambrose; and the good clergyman's pride in his pupil was
+perhaps not the less because he had at first received him on charitable
+considerations, and felt that if he had risked much in being so generous
+he had also been amply rewarded by the brilliant success of his
+undertaking.
+
+When John arrived, everybody said he was "so much improved." He had got
+his growth now, being close upon one and twenty years of age; his blue
+eyes were deeper set; his downy whiskers had disappeared and a small
+moustache shaded his upper lip; he looked more intellectual but not less
+strong, though Mrs. Ambrose said he was dreadfully pale--perhaps he owed
+some of the improvement observed in his appearance to the clothes he
+wore. Poor boy, he had been but scantily supplied in the old days; he
+looked prosperous, now, by comparison.
+
+"We have had great additions to our society, since you left us," said the
+vicar. "We have got a squire at the Hall, and a lady with a little girl
+at the cottage."
+
+"Such a nice little girl," remarked Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+When John found out that the lady at the cottage was no other than the
+lady in black to whom he had lost his heart two years and a half before,
+he was considerably surprised. It would be absurd to suppose that the
+boyish fancy which had made so much romance in his life for so many
+months could outlast the excitements of the University. It would be
+absurd to dignify such a fancy by any serious name. He had grown to be a
+man since those days and he had put away childish things. He blushed to
+remember that he had spent hours in writing odes to the beautiful
+unknown, and whole nights in dreaming of her face. And yet he could
+remember that as much as a year after he had left Billingsfield he still
+thought of her as his highest ideal of woman, and still occasionally
+composed a few verses to her memory, regretting, perhaps, the cooling of
+his poetic ardour. Then he had gradually lost sight of her in the hard
+work which made up his life. Profound study had made him more prosaic and
+he believed that he had done with ideals for ever, after the manner of
+many clever young fellows who at one and twenty feel that they are
+separated from the follies of eighteen by a great and impassable gulf.
+The gulf, however, was not in John's case so wide nor so deep but what,
+at the prospect of being suddenly brought face to face, and made
+acquainted, with her who for so long had seemed the object of a romantic
+passion, he felt a strange thrill of surprise and embarrassment. Those
+meetings of later years generally bring painful disillusion. How many of
+us can remember some fair-haired little girl who in our childhood
+represented to us the very incarnation of feminine grace and beauty, for
+whom we fetched and carried, for whom we bound nosegays on the heath and
+stole apples from the orchard and climbed upon the table after desert, if
+we were left alone in the dining-room, to lay hands on some beautiful
+sweetmeat wrapped in tinsel and fringes of pink paper--have we not met
+her again in after-life, a grown woman, very, very far from our ideal of
+feminine grace and beauty? And still in spite of changes in herself and
+ourselves there has clung to her memory through all those years enough of
+romance to make our heart beat a little faster at the prospect of
+suddenly meeting her, enough to make us wonder a little regretfully if
+she was at all like the little golden-haired child we loved long ago.
+
+But with John the feeling was stronger than that. It was but two years
+and a half since he had seen Mrs. Goddard, and, not even knowing her
+name, had erected for her a pedestal in his boyish heart. There was
+moreover about her a mystery still unsolved. There was something odd and
+strange in her one visit to the vicarage, in the fact that the vicar had
+never referred to that visit and, lastly, it seemed unlike Mr. Ambrose to
+have said nothing of her settlement in Billingsfield in the course of all
+the letters he had written to John since the latter had left him. John
+dwelt upon the name--Goddard--but it held no association for him. It was
+not at all like the names he had given her in his imagination. He
+wondered what she would be like and he felt nervously anxious to meet
+her. Somehow, too, what he heard of the squire did not please him; he
+felt an immediate antagonism to Mr. Juxon, to his books, to his amateur
+scholarship, even to his appearance as described by Mrs. Ambrose, who
+said he was such a thorough Englishman and wondered how he kept his hair
+so smooth.
+
+It was not long before he had an opportunity of judging for himself of
+what Mr. Ambrose called the recent addition to Billingsfield society. On
+the very afternoon of his arrival the vicar proposed to walk up to the
+Hall and have a look at the library, and John readily assented. It was
+Christmas Eve and the weather, even in Essex, was sharp and frosty. The
+muddy road was frozen hard and the afternoon sun, slanting through the
+oak trees that bordered the road beyond the village, made no perceptible
+impression on the cold. The two men walked briskly in the direction of
+the park gate. Before they had quite reached it however, the door of the
+cottage opposite was opened, and Stamboul, the Russian bloodhound,
+bounded down the path, cleared the wicket gate in his vast stride, and
+then turning suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to wait for his
+master. But the dog instantly caught sight of the vicar, with whom he was
+on very good terms, and trotted slowly up to him, thrusting his great
+nose into his hand, and then proceeding to make acquaintance with John.
+He seemed to approve of the stranger, for he gave a short sniff of
+satisfaction and trotted back to the wicket of the cottage. At this
+moment Mrs. Goddard and Nellie came out, followed by the squire arrayed
+in his inevitable green stockings. There was however no rose in his coat.
+Whether the greenhouses at the Hall had failed to produce any in the
+bitter weather, or whether Mr. Juxon had transferred the rose from his
+coat to the possession of Mrs. Goddard, is uncertain. The three came out
+into the road where the vicar and John stood still to meet them.
+
+"Mrs. Goddard," said the clergyman, "this is Mr. Short, of whom you have
+heard--John, let me introduce you to Mr. Juxon."
+
+John felt that he blushed violently as he took Mrs. Goddard's hand. He
+would not have believed that he could feel so much embarrassed, and he
+hated himself for betraying it. But nobody noticed his colour. The
+weather was bright and cold, and even Mrs. Goddard's pale and delicate
+skin had a rosy tinge.
+
+"We were just going for a walk," she explained.
+
+"And we were going to see you at the Hall," said the vicar to Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Let us do both," said the latter. "Let us walk to the Hall and have
+a cup of tea. We can look at the ice and see whether it will bear
+to-morrow."
+
+Everybody agreed to the proposal, and it so fell out that the squire and
+the vicar went before while John and Mrs. Goddard followed and Nellie
+walked between them, holding Stamboul by the collar, and talking to him
+as she went. John looked at his companion, and saw with a strange
+satisfaction that his first impression, the impression he had cherished
+so long, had not been a mistaken one. Her deep violet eyes were still
+sad, beautiful and dreamy. Her small nose was full of expression, and was
+not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be. Her rich brown hair
+waved across her forehead as it did on that day when John first saw her;
+and now as he spoke with her, her mouth smiled, as he had been sure it
+would. John felt a curious sense of pride in her, in finding that he had
+not been deceived, that this ideal of whom he had dreamed was really and
+truly very good to look at. He knew little of the artist's rules of
+beauty; he had often looked with wonder at the faces in the illustrations
+to Dr. Smith's classical dictionary, and had tried to understand where
+the beauty of them lay, and at Cambridge he had seen and studied with
+interest many photographs and casts from the antiques. But to his mind
+the antique would not bear comparison for a moment with Mrs. Goddard, who
+resembled no engraving nor photograph nor cast he had ever seen.
+
+And she, too, looked at him, and said to herself that he did not look
+like what she had expected. He looked like a lean, fresh young Englishman
+of moderate intelligence and in moderate circumstances. And yet she knew
+that he was no ordinary young fellow, that he was wonderfully gifted, in
+fact, and likely to make a mark in the world. She resolved to take a
+proper interest in him.
+
+"Do you know," she said, "I have heard so much about you, that I feel as
+though I had met you before, Mr. Short."
+
+"We really have met," said John. "Do you remember that hot day when you
+came to the vicarage and I waked up Muggins for you?"
+
+"Yes--was that you? You have changed. That is, I suppose I did not see
+you very well in the hurry."
+
+"I suppose I have changed in two years and a half. I was only a boy then,
+you know. But how have you heard so much about me?"
+
+"Billingsfield," said Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, "is not a large
+place. The Ambroses are very fond of you and always talk of what you are
+doing."
+
+"And so you really live here, Mrs. Goddard? How long is it since you
+came? Mr. Ambrose never told me--"
+
+"I have been here more than two years--two years last October," she
+answered quietly.
+
+"The very year I left--only a month after I was gone. How strange!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked up nervously. She was frightened lest John should
+have made any deductions from the date of her arrival. But John was
+thinking in a very different train of thought.
+
+"Why is it strange?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, I hardly know," said John in considerable embarrassment. "I was only
+thinking--about you--that is, about it all."
+
+The answer did not tend to quiet Mrs. Goddard's apprehensions.
+
+"About me?" she exclaimed. "Why should you think about me?"
+
+"It was very foolish, of course," said John. "Only, when I caught sight
+of you that day I was very much struck. You know, I was only a boy, then.
+I hoped you would come back--but you did not." He blushed violently, and
+then glanced at his companion to see whether she had noticed it.
+
+"No," she said, "I did not come back for some time."
+
+"And then I was gone. Mr. Ambrose never told me you had come."
+
+"Why should he?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. I think he might. You see Billingsfield has been a
+sort of home to me, and it is a small place; so I thought he might have
+told me the news."
+
+"I suppose he thought it would not interest you," said Mrs. Goddard. "I
+am sure I do not know why it should. But you must be very fond of the
+place, are you not?"
+
+"Very. As I was saying, it is very like home to me. My father lives in
+town you know--that is not at all like home. One always associates the
+idea of home with the country, and a vicarage and a Hall, and all that."
+
+"Does one?" said Mrs. Goddard, picking her way over the frozen mud of the
+road. "Take care, Nellie, it is dreadfully slippery!"
+
+"How much she has grown," remarked John, looking at the girl's active
+figure as she walked before them. "She was quite a little girl when I saw
+her first."
+
+"Yes, she grows very fast," answered Mrs. Goddard rather regretfully.
+
+"You say that as though you were sorry."
+
+"I? No. I am glad to see her grow. What a funny remark."
+
+"I thought you spoke sadly," explained John.
+
+"Oh, dear no. Only she is coming to the awkward age."
+
+"She is coming to it very gracefully," said John, who wanted to say
+something pleasant.
+
+"That is the most any of us can hope to do," answered Mrs. Goddard with a
+little smile. "We all have our awkward age, I suppose."
+
+"I should not think you could remember yours."
+
+"Why? Do you think it was so very long ago?" Mrs. Goddard laughed.
+
+"No--I cannot believe you ever had any," said John.
+
+The boyish compliment pleased Mrs. Goddard. It was long since any one had
+flattered her, for flattery did not enter into the squire's system for
+making himself agreeable.
+
+"Do they teach that sort of thing at Cambridge?" she asked demurely.
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Making little speeches to ladies," said she.
+
+"No--I wish they did," said John, laughing. "I should know much better
+how to make them. We learn how to write Greek odes to moral
+abstractions."
+
+"What a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Do you think so? I do not know. Now, for instance, I have written a
+great many Greek odes to you--"
+
+"To me?" interrupted his companion in surprise.
+
+"Do you think it is so very extraordinary?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"Well--you see--I only saw you once--you won't laugh?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Goddard, who was very much amused, and was beginning to
+think that John Short was the most original young man she had ever met.
+
+"I only saw you once, when you came to the vicarage, and I had not the
+least idea what your name was. But I--I hoped you would come back; and so
+I used to write poems to you. They were very good, too," added John in a
+meditative tone, "I have never written any nearly so good as they were."
+
+"Really?" Mrs. Goddard looked at him rather incredulously and then
+laughed.
+
+"You said you would not laugh," objected John.
+
+"I cannot help it in the least," said she. "It seems so funny."
+
+"It did not seem funny to me, I can assure you," replied John rather
+warmly. "I thought it very serious."
+
+"You don't do it now, do you?" asked Mrs. Goddard, looking up at him
+quietly.
+
+"Oh no--a man's ideals change so much, you know," answered John, who felt
+he had been foolishly betrayed into telling his story, and hated to be
+laughed at.
+
+"I am very glad of that. How long are you going to stay here, Mr. Short?"
+
+"Until New Year's Day, I think," he answered. "Perhaps you will have time
+to forget about the poetry before I go."
+
+"I don't know why," said Mrs. Goddard, noticing his hurt tone. "I
+think it was very pretty--I mean the way you did it. You must be a born
+poet--to write verses to a person you did not know and had only seen
+once!"
+
+"It is much easier than writing verses to moral abstractions one has
+never seen at all," explained John, who was easily pacified. "When a man
+writes a great deal he feels the necessity of attaching all those
+beautiful moral qualities to some real, living person whom he can see--"
+
+"Even if he only sees her once," remarked Mrs. Goddard demurely.
+
+"Yes, even if he only sees her once. You have no idea how hard it is to
+concentrate one's faculties upon a mere idea; but the moment a man sees a
+woman whom he can endow with all sorts of beautiful qualities--why it's
+just as easy as hunting."
+
+"I am glad to have been of so much service to you, even
+unconsciously--but, don't you think perhaps Mrs. Ambrose would have done
+as well?"
+
+"Mrs. Ambrose?" repeated John. Then he broke into a hearty laugh. "No--I
+have no hesitation in saying that she would not have done as well. I am
+deeply indebted to Mrs. Ambrose for a thousand kindnesses, for a great
+deal more than I can tell--but, on the whole, I say, no; I could not have
+written odes to Mrs. Ambrose."
+
+"No, I suppose not. Besides, fancy the vicar's state of mind! She would
+have had to call him in to translate your poetry."
+
+"It is very singular," said John in a tone of reflection. "But, if I had
+not done all that, we should not be talking as we are now, after ten
+minutes acquaintance."
+
+"Probably not," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"No--certainly not. By the bye, there is the Hall. I suppose you have
+often been there since Mr. Juxon came--what kind of man is he?"
+
+"He has been a great traveller," answered his companion. "And then--well,
+he is a scholar and has an immense library--"
+
+"And an immense dog--yes, but I mean, what kind of man is he himself?"
+
+"He is very agreeable," said Mrs. Goddard quietly. "Very well bred, very
+well educated. We find him a great addition in Billingsfield."
+
+"I should think so, if he is all you say," said John discontentedly. His
+antagonism against Mr. Juxon was rapidly increasing. Mrs. Goddard looked
+at him in some surprise, being very far from understanding his tone.
+
+"I think you will like him," she said. "He knows all about you from the
+Ambroses, and he always speaks of you with the greatest admiration."
+
+"Really? It is awfully kind of him, I am sure. I am very much obliged,"
+said John rather contemptuously.
+
+"Why do you speak like that?" asked Mrs. Goddard gravely. "You cannot
+possibly have any cause for disliking him. Besides, he is a friend of
+ours--"
+
+"Oh, of course, then it is different," said John. "If he is a friend of
+yours--"
+
+"Do you generally take violent dislikes to people at first sight, Mr.
+Short?"
+
+"Oh, dear no. Not at all--at least, not dislikes. I suppose Mr. Juxon's
+face reminds me of somebody I do not like. I will behave like an angel.
+Here we are."
+
+The effect of this conversation upon the two persons between whom it took
+place was exceedingly different. Mrs. Goddard was amused, without being
+altogether pleased. She had made the acquaintance of a refreshingly young
+scholar whom she understood to be full of genius. He was enthusiastic,
+simple, seemingly incapable of concealing anything that passed through
+his mind, unreasonable and evidently very susceptible. On the whole, she
+thought she should like him, though his scornful manner in speaking of
+the squire had annoyed her. The interest she could feel in him, if she
+felt any at all, would be akin to that of the vicar in the boy. He was
+only a boy; brilliantly talented, they said, but still a mere boy. She
+was fully ten years older than he--she might almost be his mother--well,
+not quite that, but very nearly. It was amusing to think of his writing
+odes to her. She wished she could see translations of them, and she
+almost made up her mind to ask him to show them to her.
+
+John on the other hand experienced a curious sensation. He had never
+before been in the society of so charming a woman. He looked at her and
+looked again, and came to the conclusion that she was not only charming
+but beautiful. He had not the least idea of her age; it is not the manner
+of his kind to think much about the age of a woman, provided she is not
+too young. The girl might be ten. Mrs. Goddard might have married at
+sixteen--twenty-six, twenty-seven--what was that? John called himself
+twenty-two. Five years was simply no difference at all! Besides, who
+cared for age?
+
+He had suddenly found himself almost on a footing of intimacy with this
+lovely creature. His odes had served him well; it had pleased her to hear
+the story. She had laughed a little, of course; but women, as John knew,
+always laugh when they are pleased. He would like to show her his odes.
+As he walked through the park by her side he felt a curious sense of
+possession in her which gave him a thrill of exquisite delight; and when
+they entered the Hall he felt as though he were resigning her to the
+squire, which gave him a corresponding sense of annoyance. When an
+Englishman experiences these sensations, he is in love. John resolved
+that whatever happened he would walk back with Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Come in," said the squire cheerily. "We are not so cold as we used to be
+up here."
+
+A great fire of logs was burning upon the hearth in the Hall. Stamboul
+stalked up to the open chimney, scratched the tiger's skin which served
+for a rug, and threw himself down as though his day's work were done.
+Mr. Juxon went up to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"I think you had better take off your coat," he said. "The house is very
+warm."
+
+Mrs. Goddard allowed the squire to help her in removing the heavy black
+jacket lined and trimmed with fur, which she wore. John eyed the
+proceeding uneasily and kept on his greatcoat.
+
+"Thank you--I don't mind the heat," he said shortly when the squire
+suggested to him that he might be too warm. John was in a fit of
+contrariety. Mrs. Goddard glanced at him, as he spoke, and he thought he
+detected a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, which did not tend to smooth
+his temper.
+
+"You will have some tea, Mrs. Goddard?" said Mr. Juxon, leading the way
+into the library, which he regarded as the most habitable room in the
+house. Mrs. Goddard walked by his side and the vicar followed, while John
+and Nellie brought up the rear.
+
+"Is not it a beautiful place?" said Nellie, who was anxious that the
+new-comer should appreciate the magnificence of the Hall.
+
+"Can't see very well," said John, "it is so dark."
+
+"Oh, but it is beautiful," insisted Miss Nellie. "And they have lots of
+lamps here in the evening. Perhaps Mr. Juxon will have them lighted
+before we go. He is always so kind."
+
+"Is he?" asked John with a show of interest.
+
+"Yes--he brings mamma a rose every day," said Nellie.
+
+"Not really?" said John, beginning to feel that he was justified in
+hating the squire with all his might.
+
+"Yes--and books, too. Lots of them--but then, he has so many. See, this
+is the library. Is not it splendid!"
+
+John looked about him and was surprised. The last rays of the setting sun
+fell across the open lawn and through the deep windows of the great room,
+illuminating the tall carved bookcases, the heavily gilt bindings, the
+rich, dark Russia leather and morocco of the folios. The footsteps of the
+party fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet and almost insensibly the
+voices of the visitors dropped to a lower key. A fine large wood fire was
+burning on the hearth, carefully covered with a metal netting lest any
+spark should fly out and cause damage to the treasures accumulated in the
+neighbouring shelves.
+
+"Pray make yourself at home, Mr. Short," said the squire, coming up to
+John. "You may find something of interest here. There are some old
+editions of the classics that are thought rare--some specimens of
+Venetian printing, too, that you may like to look at. Mr. Ambrose can
+tell you more about them than I."
+
+John's feeling of antagonism, and even his resentment against Mr. Juxon,
+roused by Nellie's innocent remark about the roses, were not proof
+against the real scholastic passion aroused by the sight of rare and
+valuable books. In a few minutes he had divested himself of his greatcoat
+and was examining the books with an expression of delight upon his face
+which was pleasant to see. He glanced from time to time at the other
+persons in the room and looked very often at Mrs. Goddard, but on the
+whole he was profoundly interested in the contents of the library. Mrs.
+Goddard was installed in a huge leathern easy-chair by the fire, and the
+squire was handing her one after another a number of new volumes which
+lay upon a small table, and which she appeared to examine with interest.
+Nellie knew where to look for her favourite books of engravings and had
+curled herself up in a corner absorbed in "Hyde's Royal Residences." The
+vicar went to look for something he wanted to consult.
+
+"What do you think of our new friend?" asked Mrs. Goddard of the squire.
+She spoke in a low tone and did not look up from the new book he had just
+handed her.
+
+"He appears to have a very peculiar temper," said Mr. Juxon. "But he
+looks clever."
+
+"What do you think he was talking about as we came through the park?"
+asked Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"What?"
+
+"He was saying that he saw me once before he went to college, and--fancy
+how deliciously boyish! he said he had written ever so many Greek odes to
+my memory since!" Mrs. Goddard laughed a little and blushed faintly.
+
+"Let us hope, for the sake of his success, that you may continue to
+inspire him," said the squire gravely. "I have no doubt the odes were
+very good."
+
+"So he said. Fancy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard did not mean to walk home with John; but on the other hand
+she did not mean to walk with the squire. She revolved the matter in her
+mind as she sat in the library talking in an undertone with Mr. Juxon.
+She liked the great room, the air of luxury, the squire's tea and the
+squire's conversation. It is worth noticing that his flow of talk was
+more abundant to-day than it had been for some time; whether it was
+John's presence which stimulated Mr. Juxon's imagination, or whether
+Mrs. Goddard had suddenly grown more interesting since John Short's
+appearance it is hard to say; it is certain that Mr. Juxon talked better
+than usual.
+
+The afternoon, however, was far spent and the party had only come to make
+a short visit. Mrs. Goddard rose from her seat.
+
+"Nellie, child, we must be going home," she said, calling to the little
+girl who was still absorbed in the book of engravings which she had taken
+to the window to catch the last of the waning light.
+
+John started and came forward with alacrity. The vicar looked up; Nellie
+reluctantly brought her book back.
+
+"It is very early," objected the squire. "Really, the days have no
+business to be so short."
+
+"It would not seem like Christmas if they were long," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"It does not seem like Christmas anyhow," remarked John, enigmatically.
+No one understood his observation and no one paid any attention to it.
+Whereupon John's previous feeling of annoyance returned and he went to
+look for his greatcoat in the dark corner where he had laid it.
+
+"You must not come all the way back with us," said Mrs. Goddard as they
+all went out into the hall and began to put on their warm things before
+the fire. "Really--it is late. Mr. Ambrose will give me his arm."
+
+The squire insisted however, and Stamboul, who had had a comfortable nap
+by the fire, was of the same opinion as his master and plunged wildly at
+the door.
+
+"Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ambrose?" said Mrs. Goddard, looking
+rather timidly at the vicar as they stood upon the broad steps in the
+sparkling evening air. She felt that she was disappointing both the
+squire and John, but she had quite made up her mind. She had her own
+reasons. The vicar, good man, was unconsciously a little flattered by her
+choice, as with her hand resting on the sleeve of his greatcoat he led
+the way down the park. The squire and John were fain to follow together,
+but Nellie took her mother's hand, and Stamboul walked behind affecting
+an unusual gravity.
+
+"You must come again when there is more daylight," said Mr. Juxon to his
+companion.
+
+"Thank you," said John. "You are very good." He intended to relapse into
+silence, but his instinct made him ashamed of seeming rude. "You have a
+magnificent library," he added presently in a rather cold tone.
+
+"You have been used to much better ones in Cambridge," said the squire,
+modestly.
+
+"Do you know Cambridge well, Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Very well. I am a Cambridge man, myself."
+
+"Indeed?" exclaimed John, immediately discovering that the squire was not
+so bad as he had thought. "Indeed! I had no idea. Mr. Ambrose never told
+me that."
+
+"I am not sure that he is aware of it," said Mr. Juxon quietly. "The
+subject never happened to come up."
+
+"How odd!" remarked John, who could not conceive of associating with a
+man for any length of time without asking at what University he had
+been.
+
+"I don't know," answered Mr. Juxon. "There are lots of other things to
+talk about."
+
+"Oh--of course," said John, in a tone which did not express conviction.
+
+Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard walked briskly in front; so
+briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say,
+in order to keep up with them.
+
+"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, as they turned a
+bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and
+red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just
+above the fading glow.
+
+"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you
+see the new moon!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little
+closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether
+there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps
+Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the
+subject.
+
+"How do you like our John Short?" he asked.
+
+"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. Goddard. "He is so fresh and young."
+
+"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like
+what you fancied he would be?"
+
+"Well no--not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always
+thought he would be rather Byronic--the poetical type, if you know what
+I mean."
+
+"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of
+profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw."
+
+"Oh yes--I daresay," replied Mrs. Goddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure
+he must be very clever."
+
+So they chatted quietly as they walked down the park. But the squire and
+John did not make progress in their conversation, and by the time they
+reached the gate they had yielded to an awkward silence. They had both
+been annoyed because Mrs. Goddard had taken the vicar's arm instead of
+choosing one of themselves, but the joint sense of disappointment did not
+constitute a common bond of interest. Either one would have suffered
+anything rather than mention Mrs. Goddard to the other in the course of
+the walk. And yet Mr. Juxon might have been John's father. At the gate of
+the cottage they separated. The squire said he would turn back. Mrs.
+Goddard had reached her destination. John and the vicar would return to
+the vicarage. John tried to linger a moment, to get a word with Mrs.
+Goddard. He was so persistent that she let him follow her through the
+wicket gate and then turned quickly.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, rather suddenly, holding out her hand to say
+good-bye.
+
+"Oh, nothing," answered John. "That is--would you like to see one of
+those--those little odes of mine?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, if you like," she answered frankly, and then laughed.
+"Of course I would. Good-night."
+
+He turned and fled. The vicar was waiting for him, and eyed him rather
+curiously as he came back. Mr. Juxon was standing in the middle of the
+road, making Stamboul jump over his stick, backwards and forwards.
+
+"Good-night," he said, pausing in his occupation. The vicar and John
+turned away and walked homewards. Before they turned the corner towards
+the village John instinctively looked back. Mr. Juxon was still making
+Stamboul jump the stick before the cottage, but as far as he could see in
+the dusk, Mrs. Goddard and Nellie had disappeared within. John felt that
+he was very unhappy.
+
+"Mr. Ambrose," he began. Then he stopped and hesitated. "Mr. Ambrose," he
+continued at last, "you never told me half the news of Billingsfield in
+your letters."
+
+"You mean about Mrs. Goddard? Well--no--I did not think it would interest
+you very much."
+
+"She is a very interesting person," said John. He could have added that
+if he had known she was in Billingsfield he would have made a great
+sacrifice in order to come down for a day to make her acquaintance. But
+he did not say it.
+
+"She is a great addition," said the vicar.
+
+"Oh--very great, I should think."
+
+Christmas eve was passed at the vicarage in preparation for the morrow.
+Mrs. Ambrose was very active in binding holly wherever it was possible to
+put it. The mince-pies were tasted and pronounced a success, and old
+Reynolds was despatched to the cottage with a small basket containing a
+certain number of them as a present to Mrs. Goddard. An emissary appeared
+from the Hall with a variety of articles which the squire begged to
+contribute towards the vicar's Christmas dinner; among others a haunch of
+venison which Mrs. Ambrose pronounced to be in the best condition. The
+vicar retorted by sending to the Hall a magnificent Cottenham cheese
+which, as a former Fellow of Trinity, he had succeeded in obtaining.
+Moreover Mr. Ambrose himself descended to the cellar and brought up
+several bottles of Audit ale which he declared must be allowed to stand
+some time in the pantry in order to bring out the flavour and to be
+thoroughly settled. John gave his assistance wherever it was needed and
+enjoyed vastly the old-fashioned preparations for Christmas day. It was
+long since the season had brought him such rejoicing and he intended to
+rejoice with a good will towards men and especially towards the Ambroses.
+After dinner the whole party, consisting of three highly efficient
+persons and old Reynolds, adjourned to the church to complete the
+decorations for the morrow.
+
+The church of Billingsfield, known as St. Mary's, was quite large enough
+to contain twice the entire population of the parish. It was built upon a
+part of the foundations of an ancient abbey, and the vicar was very proud
+of the monument of a crusading Earl of Oxford which he had caused to be
+placed in the chancel, it having been discovered in the old chancel of
+the abbey in the park, far beyond the present limits of the church. The
+tower was the highest in the neighbourhood. The whole building was of
+gray rubble, irregular stones set together with a crumbling cement, and
+presented an appearance which, if not architecturally imposing, was at
+least sufficiently venerable. At the present time the aisles were full of
+heaped-up holly and wreaths; a few lamps and a considerable number of
+tallow candles shed a rather feeble light amongst the pillars; a crowd of
+school children, not yet washed for the morrow, were busy under the
+directions of the schoolmistress in decorating the chancel; Mr. Thomas
+Reid the conservative sexton was at the top of a tall ladder, presumably
+using doubtful language to himself as every third nail he tried to drive
+into the crevices of the stone "crooked hisself and larfed at him," as he
+expressed it; the organ was playing and a dozen small boys with three or
+four men were industriously practising the anthem "Arise, Shine,"
+producing strains which if not calculated altogether to elevate the heart
+by their harmony, would certainly have caused the hair of a sensitive
+musician to rise on end; three or four of the oldest inhabitants were
+leaning on their sticks in the neighbourhood of the great stove in the
+middle aisle, warming themselves and grumbling that "times warn't as they
+used to be;" Mr. Abraham Boosey was noisily declaring that he had
+"cartlods more o' thim greens" to come, and Muggins, who had had some
+beer, was stumbling cheerfully against the pews in his efforts to bring a
+huge load of fir branches to the foot of Mr. Thomas Reid's long ladder.
+It was a thorough Christmas scene and John Short's heart warmed as he
+came back suddenly to the things which for three years had been so
+familiar to him and which he had so much missed in his solitude at
+Cambridge. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose set to work and John followed their
+example. Even the prickly holly leaves were pleasant to touch and there
+was a homely joy in the fir branches dripping with half melted snow.
+
+Before they had been at work very long, John was aware of a little
+figure, muffled in furs and standing beside him. He looked up and saw
+little Nellie's lovely face and long brown curls.
+
+"Can't I help you, Mr. Short?" she asked timidly. "I like to help, and
+they won't let me."
+
+"Who are 'they'?" asked John kindly, but looking about for the figure of
+Nellie's mother.
+
+"The schoolmistress and Mrs. Ambrose. They said I should dirty my frock."
+
+"Well," said John, doubtfully, "I don't know. Perhaps you would. But you
+might hold the string for me--that won't hurt your clothes, you know."
+
+"There are more greens this year," remarked Nellie, sitting down upon the
+end of the choir bench where John was at work and taking the ball of
+string in her hand. "Mr. Juxon has sent a lot from the park."
+
+"He seems to be always sending things," said John, who had no reason
+whatever for saying so, except that the squire had sent a hamper to the
+vicarage. "Did he stay long before dinner?" he added, in the tone people
+adopt when they hope to make children talk.
+
+"Stay long where?" asked Nellie innocently.
+
+"Oh, I thought he went into your house after we left you," answered John.
+
+"Oh no--he did not come in," said Nellie. John continued to work in
+silence. At some distance from where he was, Mrs. Goddard was talking to
+Mrs. Ambrose. He could see her graceful figure, but he could hardly
+distinguish her features in the gloom of the dimly-lighted church. He
+longed to leave Nellie and to go and speak to her, but an undefined
+feeling of hurt pride prevented him. He would not forgive her for having
+taken the vicar's arm in coming home through the park; so he stayed where
+he was, pricking his fingers with the holly and rather impatiently
+pulling the string off the ball which Nellie held. If Mrs. Goddard wanted
+to speak to him, she might come of her own accord, he thought, for he
+felt that he had behaved foolishly in asking if she wished to see his
+odes. Somehow, when he thought about it, the odes did not seem so good
+now as they had seemed that afternoon.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had not seen him at first, and for some time she remained in
+consultation with Mrs. Ambrose. At last she turned and looking for Nellie
+saw that she was seated beside John; to his great delight she came
+towards him. She looked more lovely than ever, he thought; the dark fur
+about her throat set off her delicate, sad face like a frame.
+
+"Oh--are you here, too, Mr. Short?" she said.
+
+"Hard at work, as you see," answered John. "Are you going to help, Mrs.
+Goddard? Won't you help me?"
+
+"I wanted to," said Nellie, appealing to her mother, "but they would not
+let me, so I can only hold the string."
+
+"Well, dear--we will see if we can help Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard
+good-naturedly, and she sat down upon the choir bench.
+
+John never forgot that delightful Christmas Eve. For nearly two hours he
+never left Mrs. Goddard's side, asking her advice about every branch and
+bit of holly and following out to the letter her most minute suggestions.
+He forgot all about the squire and about the walk back from the park, in
+the delight of having Mrs. Goddard to himself. He pushed the school
+children about and spoke roughly to old Reynolds if her commands were not
+instantly executed; he felt in the little crowd of village people that he
+was her natural protector, and he wished he might never have anything in
+the world to do save to decorate a church in her company. He grew more
+and more confidential and when the work was all done he felt that he had
+thoroughly established himself in her good graces and went home to dream
+of the happiest day he had ever spent. The organ ceased playing, the
+little choir dispersed, the school children were sent home, Mr. Abraham
+Boosey retired to the bar of the Duke's Head, Muggins tenderly embraced
+every tombstone he met on his way through the churchyard, the
+"gentlefolk" followed Reynolds' lantern towards the vicarage, and Mr.
+Thomas Reid, the conservative and melancholic sexton, put out the lights
+and locked the church doors, muttering a sour laudation of more primitive
+times, when "the gentlefolk minded their business."
+
+For the second time that day, John and Mr. Ambrose walked as far as the
+cottage, to see Mrs. Goddard to her home. When they parted from her and
+Nellie, John was careful not to say anything more about the odes, a
+subject to which Mrs. Goddard had not referred in the course of the
+evening. John thanked her rather effusively for her help--he could never
+have got through those choir benches without her, he said; and the vicar
+added that he was very much obliged, too, and surreptitiously conveyed
+to Mrs. Goddard's hand a small package intended for Miss Nellie's
+Christmas stocking, from him and his wife, and which he had forgotten to
+give earlier. Nellie was destined to have a fuller stocking than usual
+this year, for the squire had remembered her as well as Mr. Ambrose.
+
+John went to bed in his old room at the vicarage protesting that he had
+enjoyed the first day of his holiday immensely. As he blew out the light,
+he thought suddenly how often in that very room he had gone to bed
+dreaming about the lady in black and composing verses to her, till
+somehow the Greek terminations would get mixed up with the Latin roots,
+the quantities all seemed to change places, and he used to fall asleep
+with a delicious half romantic sense of happiness always unfulfilled yet
+always present. And now at last it began to be fulfilled in earnest; he
+had met the lady in black at last, had spent nearly half a day in her
+company and was more persuaded than ever that she was really and truly
+his ideal. He did not go to sleep so soon as in the old days, and he was
+sorry to go to sleep at all; he wanted to enjoy all his delicious
+recollections of that afternoon before he slept and, as he recapitulated
+the events which had befallen him and recalled each expression of the
+face that had charmed him and every intonation of the charmer's voice, he
+felt that he had never been really happy before, that no amount of
+success at Cambridge could give him half the delight he had
+experienced during one hour in the old Billingsfield church, and that
+altogether life anywhere else was not worth living. To-morrow he would
+see Mrs. Goddard again, and the next day and the day after that and
+then--"bother the future!" ejaculated John, and went to sleep.
+
+He awoke early, roused by the loud clanging of the Christmas bells, and
+looking out he saw that the day was fine and cold and bright as Christmas
+day should be, and generally is. The hoar frost was frozen into fantastic
+shapes upon his little window, the snow was clinging to the yew branches
+outside and the robins were hopping and chirping over the thin crust of
+frozen snow that just covered the ground. The road was hard and brown as
+on the previous day, and the ice in the park would probably bear. Perhaps
+Mrs. Goddard would skate in the afternoon between the services, but
+then--Juxon would be there. "Never mind Juxon," quoth John to himself,
+"it is Christmas day!"
+
+At the vicarage and elsewhere, all over the land, those things were done
+which delight the heart of Englishmen at the merry season. Everybody
+shook hands with everybody else, everybody cried "Merry Christmas!" to
+his neighbour in the street, with an intonation as though he were saying
+something startlingly new and brilliant which had never been said before.
+Every labourer who had a new smock-frock put it on, and those who had
+none had at least a bit of new red worsted comforter about their throats
+and began the day by standing at their doors in the cold morning, smoking
+a "ha'p'orth o' shag" in a new clay pipe, greeting each other across the
+village street. Muggins, who had spent a portion of the night in
+exchanging affectionate Christmas wishes with the tombstones in the
+churchyard, appeared fresh and ruddy at an early hour, clad in the long
+black coat and tall hat which he was accustomed to wear when he drove Mr.
+Boosey's fly on great festivals. Most of the cottages in the single
+street sported a bit of holly in their windows, and altogether the
+appearance of Billingsfield was singularly festive and mirthful. At
+precisely ten minutes to eleven the vicar and Mrs. Ambrose, accompanied
+by John, issued from the vicarage and went across the road by the private
+path to the church. As they entered the porch Mr. Reid, who stood
+solemnly tolling the small bell, popularly nicknamed the "Ting-tang,"
+and of which the single rope passed down close to the south door,
+vouchsafed John a sour smile of recognition. John felt as though he had
+come home. Mrs. Goddard and Nellie appeared a moment afterwards and took
+their seats in the pew traditionally belonging to the cottage, behind
+that of the squire who was always early, and the sight of whose smoothly
+brushed hair and brown beard was a constant source of satisfaction to
+Mrs. Ambrose. John and Mrs. Ambrose sat on the opposite side of the
+aisle, but John's eyes strayed very frequently towards Mrs. Goddard; so
+frequently indeed that she noticed it and leaned far back in her seat to
+avoid his glance. Whereupon John blushed and felt that the vicar, who was
+reading the Second Lesson, had probably noticed his distraction. It was
+hard to realise that two years and a half had passed since he had sat in
+that same pew; perhaps, however, the presence of Mrs. Goddard helped him
+to understand the lapse of time. But for her it would have been very
+hard; for the vicar's voice sounded precisely as it used to sound; Mrs.
+Ambrose had not lost her habit of removing one glove and putting it into
+her prayer book as a mark while she found the hymn in the accompanying
+volume; the bright decorations looked as they looked years ago above the
+organ and round the chancel; from far down the church, just before the
+sermon, came the old accustomed sound of small boys shuffling their
+hobnailed shoes upon the stone floor and the audible guttural whisper of
+the churchwarden admonishing them to "mind the stick;" the stained-glass
+windows admitted the same pleasant light as of yore--all was unchanged.
+But Mrs. Goddard and Nellie occupied the cottage pew, and their presence
+alone was sufficient to mark to John the fact that he was now a man.
+
+The service was sympathetic to John Short. He liked the simplicity of it,
+even the rough singing of the choir, as compared with the solemn and
+magnificent musical services of Trinity College Chapel. But it seemed
+very long before it was all over and he was waiting for Mrs. Goddard
+outside the church door.
+
+There were more greetings, more "Merry Christmas" and "Many happy
+returns." Mrs. Goddard looked more charming than ever and was quite as
+cordial as on the previous evening.
+
+"How much better it all looked this morning by daylight," she said.
+
+"I think it looked very pretty last night," answered John. "There is
+nothing so delightful as Christmas decorations, is there?"
+
+"Perhaps you will come down next year and help us again?" suggested Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"Yes--well, I might come at Easter, for that matter," answered the young
+man, who after finding it impossible to visit Billingsfield during two
+years and a half, now saw no difficulty whatever in the way of making two
+visits in the course of six months. "Do you still decorate at Easter?" he
+asked.
+
+"Oh yes--do you think you can come?" she said pleasantly. "I thought you
+were to be very busy just then."
+
+"Yes, that is true," answered John. "But of course I could come, you
+know, if it were necessary."
+
+"Hardly exactly necessary--" Mrs. Goddard laughed.
+
+"The doctor told me some relaxation was absolutely indispensable for my
+health," said John rather sententiously.
+
+"You don't really look very ill--are you?" She seemed incredulous.
+
+"Oh no, of course not--only a little overworked sometimes."
+
+"In that case I have no doubt it would do you good," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Do you really think so?" asked John, hopefully.
+
+"Oh--that is a matter for your doctor to decide. I cannot possibly tell,"
+she answered.
+
+"I think you would make a very good doctor, Mrs. Goddard," said John
+venturing on a bolder flight.
+
+"Really--I never thought of trying it," she replied with a little laugh.
+"Good morning, Mr. Ambrose. Nellie wants to thank you for your beautiful
+present. It was really too good of you."
+
+The vicar came out of the vestry and joined the group in the path. Mrs.
+Ambrose, who had been asking Tom Judd's wife about her baby, also came
+up, and the squire, who had been presenting Mr. Reid with ten shillings
+for his Christmas box and who looked singularly bereaved without the
+faithful Stamboul at his heels, sauntered up and began congratulating
+everybody. In the distance the last of the congregation, chiefly the old
+women and cripples who could not keep up with the rest, hobbled away
+through the white gate of the churchyard.
+
+It had been previously agreed that if the ice would bear there should be
+skating in the afternoon and the squire was anxious to inform the party
+that the pond was in excellent condition.
+
+"As black as your hat," he said cheerfully. "Stamboul and I have been
+sliding all over it, so of course it would bear an ox. It did not crack
+anywhere."
+
+"Do you skate, Mrs. Goddard?" asked John.
+
+"Not very well--not nearly so well as Nellie. But I am very fond of it."
+
+"Will you let me push you about in a chair, then? It is capital fun."
+
+"Very good fun for me, no doubt," answered Mrs. Goddard, laughing.
+
+"I would rather do it than anything else," said John in a tone of
+conviction. "It is splendid exercise, pushing people about in chairs."
+
+"So it is," said the squire, heartily. "We will take turns, Mr. Short."
+The suggestion did not meet with any enthusiastic response from John, who
+wished Mr. Juxon were not able to skate.
+
+Poor John, he had but one idea, which consisted simply in getting Mrs.
+Goddard to himself as often and as long as possible. Unfortunately this
+idea did not coincide with Mr. Juxon's views. Mr. Juxon was an older,
+slower and calmer man than the enthusiastic young scholar, and though
+very far from obtruding his views or making any assertion of his rights,
+was equally far from forgetting them. He was a man more of actions than
+words. He had been in the habit of monopolising Mrs. Goddard's society
+for months and he had no intention of relinquishing his claims, even for
+the charitable purpose of allowing a poor student to enjoy his Christmas
+holiday and bit of romance undisturbed. If John had presented himself as
+a boy, it might have been different; but John emphatically considered
+himself a man, and the squire was quite willing to treat him as such,
+since he desired it. That is to say he would not permit him to "cut him
+out" as he would have expressed it. The result of the position in which
+John and Mr. Juxon soon found themselves was to be expected.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+John did not sleep so peacefully nor dream so happily that night as on
+the night before. The course of true love had not run smooth that
+afternoon. The squire had insisted upon having his share of the lovely
+Mrs. Goddard's society and she herself had not seemed greatly disturbed
+at a temporary separation from John. The latter amused her for a little
+while; the former held the position of a friend whose conversation she
+liked better than that of other people. John was disappointed and thought
+of going back to Cambridge the next day. So strong, indeed, was his
+sudden desire to leave Billingsfield without finishing his visit, that
+before going to bed he had packed some of his belongings into his small
+portmanteau; the tears almost stood in his eyes as he busied himself
+about his room and he muttered certain formulae of self-accusation as he
+collected his things, saying over and over in his heart--"What a fool I
+am! Why should she care for me? What am I that she should care for me?"
+etc. etc. Then he opened his window and looked at the bright stars which
+shone out over the old yew tree; but it was exceedingly cold, and so he
+shut it again and went to bed, feeling very uncomfortable and unhappy.
+
+But when he awoke in the morning he looked at his half-packed portmanteau
+and laughed, and instead of saying "What a fool I am!" he said "What a
+fool I was!"--which is generally and in most conditions of human affairs
+a much wiser thing to say. Then he carefully took everything out of the
+portmanteau again and replaced things as they had lain before in his
+room, lest perchance Susan, the housemaid, should detect what had passed
+through his mind on the previous evening and should tell Mrs. Ambrose.
+And from all this it appears that John was exceedingly young, as indeed
+he was, in spite of his being nearly one and twenty years of age. But
+doubtless if men were willing to confess their disappointments and
+foolish, impetuous resolutions, many would be found who have done
+likewise, being in years much older than John Short. Unfortunately for
+human nature most men would rather confess to positive wrong-doing than
+to any such youthful follies as these, while they are young; and when
+they are old they would rather be thought young and foolish than confess
+the evil deeds they have actually done.
+
+John, however, did not moralise upon his situation. The weather was again
+fine and as he dressed his spirits rose. He became magnanimous and
+resolved to forget yesterday and make the most of today. He would see
+Mrs. Goddard of course; perhaps he would show her a little coldness at
+first, giving her to understand that she had not treated him well on the
+previous afternoon; then he would interest her by his talk--he would
+repeat to her one of those unlucky odes and translate it for her benefit,
+making use of the freedom he would thus get in order to make her an
+unlimited number of graceful compliments. Perhaps, too, he ought to pay
+more attention to Nellie, if he wished to conciliate her mother. Women,
+he reflected, have such strange prejudices!
+
+He wondered whether it would be proper for him to call upon Mrs. Goddard.
+He was not quite sure about it, and he was rather ashamed of having so
+little knowledge of the world; but he believed that in Billingsfield he
+might run the risk. There had been talk of skating again that morning,
+and so, about ten o'clock, John told Mr. Ambrose he would go for a short
+walk and then join them all at the pond in the park. The project seemed
+good, and he put it into execution. As he walked up the frozen road, he
+industriously repeated in his mind the Greek verses he was going to
+translate to Mrs. Goddard; he had no copy of them but his memory was very
+good. He met half a dozen labourers, strolling about with their pipes
+until it was time to go and have a pint of beer, as is their manner upon
+holidays; they touched their hats to him, remembering his face well, and
+he smiled happily at the rough fellows, contrasting his situation with
+theirs, who from the misfortune of social prejudice were not permitted to
+go and call upon Mrs. Goddard. His heart beat rather fast as he went up
+to the door of the cottage, and for one unpleasant moment he again
+doubted whether it was proper for him to make such an early visit. But
+being bent on romantic adventure he rang boldly and inquired for Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+She was surprised to see John at that hour and alone; but it did not
+enter her head to refuse him admittance. Indeed as he stood in the little
+passage he heard the words which passed between her and Martha.
+
+"What is it, Martha?"
+
+"It's a young gentleman, mam. I rather think, mam, it's the young
+gentleman that's stopping at the vicarage."
+
+"Oh--ask him to come in."
+
+"In 'ere, mam?"
+
+"No--into the sitting-room," said Mrs. Goddard, who was busy in the
+dining-room.
+
+John was accordingly ushered in and told to wait a minute; which he did,
+surveying with surprise the beautiful pictures, the rich looking
+furniture and the valuable objects that lay about upon the tables. He
+experienced a thrill of pleasure, for he felt sure that Mrs. Goddard
+possessed another qualification which he had unconsciously attributed to
+her--that of being accustomed to a certain kind of luxury, which in
+John's mind was mysteriously connected with his romance. It is one of the
+most undefinable of the many indefinite feelings to which young men in
+love are subject, especially young men who have been, or are, very poor.
+They like to connect ideas of wealth and comfort, even of a luxurious
+existence, with the object of their affections. They desire the world of
+love to be new to them, and in order to be wholly new in their
+experience, it must be rich. The feeling is not so wholly unworthy as it
+might seem; they instinctively place their love upon a pedestal and
+require its surroundings to be of a better kind than such as they have
+been accustomed to in their own lives. King Cophetua, being a king, could
+afford to love the beggar maid, and a very old song sings of a "lady who
+loved a swine," but the names of the poor young men who have loved above
+their fortune and station are innumerable as the swallows in spring. John
+saw that Mrs. Goddard was much richer than he had ever been, and without
+the smallest second thought was pleased. In a few moments she entered the
+room. John had his speech ready.
+
+"I thought, if you were going to skate, I would call and ask leave to go
+with you," he said glibly, as she gave him her hand.
+
+"Oh--thanks. But is not it rather early?"
+
+"It is twenty minutes past ten," said John, looking at the clock.
+
+"Well, let us get warm before starting," said Mrs. Goddard, sitting down
+by the fire. "It is so cold this morning."
+
+John thought she was lovely to look at as she sat there, warming her
+hands and shielding her face from the flame with them at the same time.
+She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, but said nothing. She was still
+a little surprised to see him and wondered whether he himself had
+anything to say.
+
+"Yes," said John, "it is very cold--traditional Christmas weather. Could
+not be finer, in fact, could it?"
+
+"No--it could not be finer," echoed Mrs. Goddard, suppressing a smile.
+Then as though to help him out of his embarrassment by giving an impulse
+to the conversation, she added, "By the bye, Mr. Short, while we are
+warming ourselves why do not you let me hear one of your odes?"
+
+She meant it kindly, thinking it would give him pleasure, as indeed it
+did. John's heart leaped and he blushed all over his face with delight.
+Mrs. Goddard was not quite sure whether she had done right, but she
+attributed his evident satisfaction to his vanity as a scholar.
+
+"Certainly," he said with alacrity, "if you would like to hear it. Would
+you care to hear me repeat the Greek first?"
+
+"Oh, of all things. I do not think I have ever heard Greek."
+
+John cleared his throat and began, glancing at his hostess rather
+nervously from time to time. But his memory never failed him, and he went
+on to the end without a break or hesitation.
+
+"How do you think it sounds?" he asked timidly when he had finished.
+
+"It sounds very funny," said Mrs. Goddard. "I had no idea Greek sounded
+like that--but it has a pleasant rhythm."
+
+"That is the thing," said John, enthusiastically. "I see you really
+appreciate it. Of course nobody knows how the ancients pronounced Greek,
+and if one pronounced it as the moderns do, it would sound all wrong--but
+the rhythm is the thing, you know. It is impossible to get over that."
+
+Mrs. Goddard was not positively sure what he meant by "getting over the
+rhythm;" possibly John himself could not have defined his meaning very
+clearly. But his cheeks glowed and he was very much pleased.
+
+"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Goddard confidently. "But what does it all
+mean, Mr. Short?"
+
+"Would you really like to know?" asked John in fresh embarrassment. He
+suddenly realised how wonderfully delightful it was to be repeating his
+own poetry to the woman for whom it was written.
+
+"Indeed yes--what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in
+Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?"
+
+"Yes--you will promise not to be offended?"
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Goddard; then blushing a little she added, "it is
+quite--I mean--quite the sort of thing, is not it?"
+
+"Oh quite," said John, blushing too, but looking grave for a moment. Then
+he repeated the English translation of the verses which, as they were
+certainly not so good as the original, may be omitted here. They set
+forth that in the vault of the world's night a new star had appeared
+which men had not yet named, nor would be likely to name until the power
+of human speech should be considerably increased, and the verses dwelt
+upon the theme, turning it and revolving it in several ways, finally
+declaring that the far-darting sun must look out for his interests unless
+he meant to be outshone by the new star. Translated into English there
+was nothing very remarkable about the performance though the original
+Greek ode was undoubtedly very good of its kind. But Mrs. Goddard was
+determined to be pleased.
+
+"I think it is charming," she said, when John had reached the end and
+paused for her criticism.
+
+"The Greek is very much better," said John doubtfully. "I cannot write
+English verses--they seem to me so much harder."
+
+"I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard. "But did you really write that
+when--" she stopped not knowing exactly how to express herself. But
+John had his answer ready.
+
+"Oh, I wrote ever so many," he said, "and I have got them all at
+Cambridge. But that is the only one I quite remember. I wrote them just
+after the day when I waked up Muggins--the only time I had seen you till
+now. I think I could--"
+
+"How funny it seems," said Mrs. Goddard, "without knowing a person, to
+write verses to them! How did you manage to do it?"
+
+"I was going to say that I think--I am quite sure--I could write much
+better things to you now."
+
+"Oh, that is impossible--quite absurd, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard,
+laughing more gaily than usual.
+
+"Why?" asked John, somewhat emboldened by his success. "I do not see why,
+if one has an ideal, you know, one should not understand it much better
+when one comes near to it."
+
+"Yes--but--how can I possibly be your ideal?" She felt herself so much
+older than John that she thought it was out of the question to be
+annoyed; so she treated him in a matter of fact way, and was really
+amused at his talk.
+
+"I don't see why not," answered John stoutly. "You might be any man's
+ideal."
+
+"Oh, really--" ejaculated Mrs. Goddard, somewhat startled at the force of
+the sweeping compliment. To be told point-blank, even by an enthusiastic
+youth of one and twenty, that one is the ideal woman, must be either very
+pleasant or very startling.
+
+"Excuse me," she said quickly, before he could answer her, "you know of
+course I am very ignorant--yes I am--but will you please tell me what is
+an 'ideal'?"
+
+"Why--yes," said John, "it is very easy. Ideal comes from idea. Plato
+meant, by the idea, the perfect model--well, do you see?"
+
+"Not exactly," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"It is very simple. When I, when anybody, says you are the ideal woman,
+it is meant that you are the perfect model, the archetype of a woman."
+
+"Yes--but that is absurd," said his companion rather coldly.
+
+"I am sorry that it should seem absurd," said John in a persuasive tone;
+"it seems very natural to me. A man thinks for a long time about
+everything that most attracts him and then, on a sudden, he sees it all
+before him, quite real and alive, and then he says he has realised his
+ideal. But you liked the verses, Mrs. Goddard?" he added quickly, hoping
+to bring back the smile that had vanished from her face. He had a strong
+impression that he had been a little too familiar. Probably Mrs. Goddard
+thought so too.
+
+"Oh yes, I think they are very nice," she answered. But the smile did not
+come back. She was not displeased, but she was not pleased either; she
+was wondering how far this boy would go if she would let him. John,
+however, felt unpleasantly doubtful about what he had done.
+
+"I hope you are not displeased," he said.
+
+"Oh, not in the least," said she. "Shall we go to the park and skate?"
+
+"I am not sure that I will skate to-day," said John, foolishly. Mrs.
+Goddard looked at him in unfeigned surprise.
+
+"Why not? I thought it was for that--"
+
+"Oh, of course," said John quickly. "Only it is not very amusing to skate
+when Mr. Juxon is pushing you about in a chair."
+
+"Really--why should not he push me about, if I like it?"
+
+"If you like it--that is different," answered John impatiently.
+
+Mrs. Goddard began to think that John was very like a spoiled child, and
+she resented his evident wish to monopolise her society. She left the
+room to get ready for the walk, vaguely wishing that he had not come.
+
+"I have made a fool of myself again," said John to himself, when he was
+left alone; and he suddenly wished he could get out of the house without
+seeing her again. But before he had done wishing, she returned.
+
+"Where is Miss Nellie?" he asked gloomily, as they walked down the path.
+"I hope she is coming too."
+
+"She went up to the pond with Mr. Juxon, just before you came."
+
+"Do you let her go about like that, without you?" asked John severely.
+
+"Why not? Really, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, glancing up at his face,
+"either you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a
+good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--"
+
+She was naturally a little timid, but John's youth and what she
+considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to
+protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous.
+
+"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are
+quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest
+reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal
+antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me."
+
+"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows
+nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They
+were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind
+that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch.
+
+"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he
+said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom.
+
+"Nor I," said Mrs. Goddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back
+for her to pass. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there
+was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it
+for themselves. Mrs. Goddard was so much amused at John's absence of mind
+that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was
+attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that
+had darkened the horizon of his romance had passed quickly away, and once
+more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life.
+If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his
+imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. Goddard's chair upon the
+ice, he mentally ejaculated "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the
+previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park
+was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. Goddard did not seem to be
+in a hurry.
+
+"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently.
+
+"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the
+year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will
+very soon be alive again."
+
+"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of
+it."
+
+"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not
+you?"
+
+"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently.
+Mrs. Goddard could not resist the temptation of teazing him a little.
+They had grown very intimate in forty-eight hours; it had taken six
+months for Mr. Juxon to reach the point John had won in two days.
+
+"Are they?" she asked quietly. "Is that the reason you selected me for
+the 'idea' of your ode, which you explained to me?"
+
+"You?" said John in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Why, you are not any
+older than I am!"
+
+"Do you think so?" she inquired with a demure smile. "I am very much
+older than you think."
+
+"You must be--I mean, you know, you must be older than you look."
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Goddard, still smiling, and just resting the tips
+of her fingers upon his arm as she stepped across a slippery place in the
+frozen road. "Yes, I am a great deal older than you."
+
+John would have liked very much to ask her age, but even to his youthful
+and unsophisticated mind such a question seemed almost too personal. He
+did not really believe that she was more than five years older than he,
+and that seemed to be no difference at all.
+
+"I don't know," he said. "I am nearly one and twenty."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Goddard, who had heard every detail concerning
+John from Mr. Ambrose, again and again. "Just think," she added with a
+laugh, "only one and twenty! Why when I was one and twenty I was--" she
+stopped short.
+
+"What were you doing then?" asked John, trying not to seem too curious.
+
+"I was living in London," she said quietly. She half enjoyed his
+disappointment.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I daresay. But what--well, I suppose I ought not to ask
+any questions."
+
+"Certainly not," said she. "It is very rude to ask a lady questions about
+her age."
+
+"I do not mean to be rude again," said John, pretending to laugh. "Have
+you always been fond of skating?" he asked, fixing his eye upon a distant
+tree, and trying to look unconscious.
+
+"No--I only learned since I came here. Besides, I skate very badly."
+
+"Did Mr. Juxon teach you?" asked John, still gazing into the distance.
+From not looking at the path he slipped on a frozen puddle and nearly
+fell. Whereat, as usual, when he did anything awkward, he blushed to the
+brim of his hat.
+
+"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. "You will fall if you don't look
+where you are going. No; Mr. Juxon was not here last year. He only came
+here in the summer."
+
+"It seems to me that he has always been here," said John, trying to
+recover his equanimity. "Then I suppose Mr. Ambrose taught you to skate?"
+
+"Exactly--Mr. Ambrose taught me. He skates very well."
+
+"So will you, with a little more practice," answered her companion in a
+rather patronising tone. He intended perhaps to convey the idea that Mrs.
+Goddard would improve in the exercise if she would actually skate, and
+with him, instead of submitting to be pushed about in a chair by Mr.
+Juxon.
+
+"Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard indifferently. "We shall soon be
+there, now. I can hear them on the ice."
+
+"Too soon," said John with regret.
+
+"I thought you liked skating so much."
+
+"I like walking with you much better," he replied, and he glanced at her
+face to see if his speech produced any sign of sympathy.
+
+"You have walked with me; now you can skate with Nellie," suggested Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"You talk as though I were a child," said John, suddenly losing his
+temper in a very unaccountable way.
+
+"Because I said you might skate with Nellie? Really, I don't see why. Mr.
+Juxon is not a child, and he has been skating with her all the morning."
+
+"That is different," retorted John growing very red.
+
+"Yes--Nellie is much nearer to your age than to Mr. Juxon's," answered
+Mrs. Goddard, with a calmness which made John desperate.
+
+"Really, Mrs. Goddard," he said stiffly, "I cannot see what that has to
+do with it."
+
+"'The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the lady so much older
+than myself has charged--' How does the quotation end, Mr. Short?"
+
+"'Has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither
+attempt to palliate nor deny,'" said John savagely. "Quite so, Mrs.
+Goddard. I shall not attempt to palliate it, nor will I venture to deny
+it."
+
+"Then why in the world are you so angry with me?" she asked, suddenly
+turning her violet eyes upon him. "I was only laughing, you know."
+
+"Only laughing!" repeated John. "It is more pleasant to laugh than to be
+laughed at."
+
+"Yes--would not you allow me the pleasure then, just for once?"
+
+"Certainly, if you desire it. You are so extremely merry--"
+
+"Come, Mr. Short, we must not seem to have been quarrelling when we reach
+the pond. It would be too ridiculous."
+
+"Everything seems to strike you in a humorous light to-day," answered
+John, beginning to be pacified by her tone.
+
+"Do you know, you are much more interesting when you are angry," said
+Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"And you only made me angry in order to see whether I was interesting?"
+
+"Perhaps--but then, I could not help it in the least."
+
+"I trust you are thoroughly satisfied upon the point, Mrs. Goddard? If
+there is anything more that I can do to facilitate your researches in
+psychology--"
+
+"You would help me? Even to the extent of being angry again?" She smiled
+so pleasantly and frankly that John's wrath vanished.
+
+"It is impossible to be angry with you. I am very sorry if I seemed to
+be," he answered. "A man who has the good fortune to be thrown into your
+society is a fool to waste his time in being disagreeable."
+
+"I agree with the conclusion, at all events--that is, it is much better
+to be agreeable. Is it not? Let us be friends."
+
+"Oh, by all means," said John.
+
+They walked on for some minutes in silence. John reflected that he had
+witnessed a phase of Mrs. Goddard's character of which he had been very
+far from suspecting the existence. He had not hitherto imagined her to be
+a woman of quick temper or sharp speech. His idea of her was formed
+chiefly upon her appearance. Her sad face, with its pathetic expression,
+suggested a melancholy humour delighting in subdued and tranquil
+thoughts, inclined naturally to the romantic view, or to what in the eyes
+of youths of twenty appears to be the romantic view of life. He had
+suddenly found her answering him with a sharpness which, while it roused
+his wits, startled his sensibilities. But he was flattered as well. His
+instinct and his observation of Mrs. Goddard when in the society of
+others led him to believe that with Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, or even with
+Mr. Juxon, she was not in the habit of talking as she talked with him. He
+was therefore inwardly pleased, so soon as his passing annoyance had
+subsided, to feel that she made a difference between him and others.
+
+It was quite true that she made a distinction, though she did so almost
+unconsciously. It was perfectly natural, too. She was young in heart, in
+spite of her thirty years and her troubles; she had an elastic
+temperament; to a physiognomist her face would have shown a delicate
+sensitiveness to impressions rather than any inborn tendency to sadness.
+In spite of everything she was still young, and for two years and a half
+she had been in the society of persons much older than herself, persons
+she respected and regarded as friends, but persons in whom her youth
+found no sympathy. It was natural, therefore, that when time to some
+extent had healed the wound she had suffered and she suddenly found
+herself in the society of a young and enthusiastic man, something of the
+enforced soberness of her manner should unbend, showing her character in
+a new light. She herself enjoyed the change, hardly knowing why; she
+enjoyed a little passage of arms with John, and it amused her more than
+she could have expected to be young again, to annoy him, to break the
+peace and heal it again in five minutes. But what happened entirely
+failed to amuse the squire, who did not regard such diversions as
+harmless; and moreover she was far from expecting the effect which her
+treatment of John Short produced upon his scholarly but enthusiastic
+temper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The squire had remarked that John Short seemed to have a peculiar temper,
+and Mrs. Goddard had observed the same thing. What has gone before
+sufficiently explains the change in John's manner, and the difference in
+his behaviour was plainly apparent even to Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose. The
+vicar indeed was wise enough to see that John was very much attracted by
+Mrs. Goddard, but he was also wise enough to say nothing about it. His
+wife, however, who had witnessed no love-making for nearly thirty years,
+except the courtship of the young physician who had married her daughter,
+attributed John's demeanour to no such disturbing cause. He was
+overworked, she said; he was therefore irritable; he had of course never
+taken that excellent homoeopathic remedy, highly diluted aconite, since
+he had left the vicarage; the consequence was that he was subject to
+nervous headache--she only hoped he would not be taken ill on the eve of
+the examination for honours. She hoped, too, that he would prolong his
+holiday to the very last moment, for the country air and the rest he
+enjoyed were sure to do him so much good. With regard, to the extension
+of John's visit, the vicar thought differently, although he held his
+peace. There were many reasons why John should not become attached to
+Mrs. Goddard both for her sake and his own, and if he staid long, the
+vicar felt quite sure that he would fall in love with her. She was
+dangerously pretty, she was much older than John--which in the case of
+very young men constitutes an additional probability--she evidently took
+an innocent pleasure in his society, and altogether such a complication
+as was likely to ensue was highly undesirable. Therefore, when Mrs.
+Ambrose pressed John to stay longer than he had intended, the vicar not
+only gave him no encouragement, but spoke gravely of the near approach of
+the contest for honours, of the necessity of concentrating every force
+for the coming struggle, and expressed at the same time the firm
+conviction that, if John did his best, he ought to be the senior classic
+in the year.
+
+Even Mrs. Goddard urged him to go. Of course he asked her advice. He
+would not have lost that opportunity of making her speak of himself, nor
+of gauging the exact extent of the interest he hoped she felt in him.
+
+It was two or three days after the long conversation he had enjoyed with
+her. In that time they had met often and John's admiration for her,
+strengthened by his own romantic desire to be really in love, had begun
+to assume proportions which startled Mrs. Goddard and annoyed Mr. Juxon.
+The latter felt that the boy was in his way; whenever he wanted to see
+Mrs. Goddard, John was at her side, talking eagerly and contesting his
+position against the squire with a fierceness which in an older and wiser
+man would have been in the worst possible taste. Even as it was, Mr.
+Juxon looked considerably annoyed as he stood by, smoothing his smooth
+hair from time to time with his large white hand and feeling that even at
+his age, and with his experience, a man might sometimes cut a poor
+figure.
+
+On the particular occasion when the relations between John and the squire
+became an object of comment to Mrs. Ambrose, the whole party were
+assembled at Mrs. Goddard's cottage. She had invited everybody to tea, a
+meal which in her little household represented a compromise between her
+appetite and Nellie's. She had felt that in the small festivities of the
+Billingsfield Christmas season she was called upon to do her share with
+the rest and, being a simple woman, she took her part simply, and did not
+dignify the entertainment of her four friends by calling it a dinner. The
+occasion was none the less hospitable, for she gave both time and thought
+to her preparations. Especially she had considered the question of
+precedence; it was doubtful, she thought, whether the squire or the vicar
+should sit upon her right hand. The squire, as being lord of the manor,
+represented the powers temporal, the vicar on the other hand represented
+the church, which on ordinary occasions takes precedence of the lay
+faculty. She had at last privately consulted Mr. Juxon, in whom she had
+the greatest confidence, asking him frankly which she should do, and Mr.
+Juxon had unhesitatingly yielded the post of honour to the vicar, adding
+to enforce his opinion the very plausible argument that if he, the
+squire, took Mrs. Goddard in to tea, the vicar would have to give his arm
+either to little Nellie or to his own wife. Mrs. Goddard was convinced
+and the affair was a complete success.
+
+John felt that he could not complain of his position, but as he was
+separated from the object of his admiration during the whole meal, he
+resolved to indemnify himself for his sufferings by monopolising her
+conversation during the rest of the evening. The squire on the other
+hand, who had been obliged to talk to Mrs. Ambrose during most of the
+time while they were at table, and who, moreover, was beginning to feel
+that he had seen almost enough of John Short, determined to give the
+young man a lesson in the art of interesting women in general and Mrs.
+Goddard in particular. She, indeed, would not have been a woman at all
+had she not understood the two men and their intentions. After tea the
+party congregated round the fire in the little drawing-room, standing in
+a circle, of which their hostess formed the centre. Mr. Juxon and John,
+anticipating that Mrs. Goddard must ultimately sit upon one side or other
+of the fireplace had at first chosen opposite sides, each hoping that she
+would take the chair nearest to himself. But Mrs. Goddard remained
+standing an unreasonably long time, for the very reason that she did not
+choose to sit beside either of them. Seeing this the squire, who had
+perhaps a greater experience than his adversary in this kind of strategic
+warfare, left his place and put himself on the same side as John. He
+argued that Mrs. Goddard would probably then choose the opposite side,
+whereas John who was younger would think she would come towards the two
+where they stood; John would consequently lose time, Mr. Juxon would
+cross again and install himself by her side while his enemy was
+hesitating.
+
+While these moves and counter-moves were proceeding, the conversation was
+general. The vicar was for the hundredth time admiring the Andrea del
+Sarto over the chimney-piece and his wife was explaining her general
+objections to the representation of sacred subjects upon canvas, while
+Mrs. Goddard answered each in turn and endeavoured to disagree with
+neither. What the squire had foreseen when he made his last move,
+however, actually took place at last. Mrs. Goddard established herself
+upon the side opposite the two men. Mr. Juxon crossed rapidly to where
+she was seated, and Mrs. Ambrose, who had turned with the intention of
+speaking to the squire, found herself confronted by John. He saw that he
+had been worsted by his foe and immediately lost his temper; but being
+brought face to face with Mrs. Ambrose was obliged to control it as he
+might. That excellent lady beamed upon him with a maternal smile of the
+kind which is peculiarly irritating to young men. He struggled to get
+away however, glancing over Mrs. Ambrose's shoulder at the squire and
+longing to be "at him" as he would have expressed it. But the squire was
+not to be got at so easily, for the vicar's wife was of a fine presence
+and covered much ground. John involuntarily thought of the dyke before
+Troy, of Hector and his heroes attempting to storm it and of the Ajaces
+and Sarpedon defending it and glaring down from above. He could
+appreciate Hector's feelings--Mrs. Ambrose was very like the dyke.
+
+The squire smiled serenely and smoothed his hair as he talked to Mrs.
+Goddard and she herself looked by no means discontented, thereby adding,
+as it were, an insult to the injury done to John.
+
+"I shall always envy you the cottage," the squire was saying. "I have not
+a single room in the Hall that is half so cheery in the evening."
+
+"I shall never forget my terror when we first met," answered Mrs.
+Goddard, "do you remember? You frightened me by saying you would like to
+live here. I thought you meant it."
+
+"You must have thought I was the most unmannerly of barbarians."
+
+"Instead of being the best of landlords," added Mrs. Goddard with a
+grateful smile.
+
+"I hardly know whether I am that," said Mr. Juxon, settling himself in
+his chair. "But I believe I am by nature an exceedingly comfortable man,
+and I never fail to consult the interests of my comfort."
+
+"And of mine. Think of all you have done to improve this place. I can
+never thank you enough. I suppose one always feels particularly grateful
+at Christmas time--does not one?"
+
+"One has more to be grateful for, it seems to me--in our climate, too.
+People in southern countries never really know what comfort means,
+because nature never makes them thoroughly uncomfortable. Only a man who
+is freezing can appreciate a good fire."
+
+"I suppose you have been a good deal in such places," suggested Mrs.
+Goddard, vaguely.
+
+"Oh yes--everywhere," answered the squire with equal indefiniteness. "By
+the bye, talking of travelling, when is our young friend going away?"
+There was not a shade of ill-humour in the question.
+
+"The day after New Year's--I believe."
+
+"He has had a very pleasant visit."
+
+"Yes," replied Mrs. Goddard, "I hope it will do him a great deal of
+good."
+
+"Why? Was he ill? Ah--I remember, they said he had worked too hard. It is
+a great mistake to work too hard, especially when one is very young."
+
+"He is very young, is not he?" remarked Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile,
+remembering the many conversations she had had with him.
+
+"Very. Did it ever strike you that--well, that he was losing his head a
+little?"
+
+"No," answered his companion innocently. "What about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. Only he has rather a peculiar temper. He is perpetually
+getting very angry with no ostensible reason--and then he glares at one
+like an angry cat."
+
+"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, "he might hear you."
+
+"Do him good," said the squire cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, no! It would hurt his feelings dreadfully. How can you be so
+unkind?"
+
+"He is a very good boy, you know. Really, I believe he is. Only he is
+inclined to be rather too unreasonable; I should think he might be
+satisfied."
+
+"Satisfied with what?" inquired Mrs. Goddard, who did not wish to
+understand.
+
+"With the way you have treated him," returned the squire bluntly. "You
+have been wonderfully good to him."
+
+"Have I?" The faint colour rose to her cheek. "I don't know--poor fellow!
+I daresay his life at Cambridge is very dull."
+
+"Yes. Entirely devoid of that species of amusement which he has enjoyed
+so abundantly in Billingsfield. It is not every undergraduate who has a
+chance to talk to you for a week at a time."
+
+Mr. Juxon made the remark very calmly, without seeming to be in the least
+annoyed. He was much too wise a man to appear to be displeased at Mrs.
+Goddard's treatment of John. Moreover, he felt that on the present
+occasion, at least, John had been summarily worsted; it was his turn to
+be magnanimous.
+
+"If you are going to make compliments, I will go away," said Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"I? I never made a compliment in my life," replied the squire
+complacently. "Do you think it is a compliment to tell you that Mr. Short
+probably enjoys your conversation much more than the study of Greek
+roots?"
+
+"Well--not exactly--"
+
+"Besides, in general," continued the squire, "compliments are mere waste
+of breath. If a woman has any vanity she knows her own good points much
+better than any man who attempts to explain them to her; and if she has
+no vanity, no amount of explanation of her merits will make her see them
+in a proper light."
+
+"That is very true," answered Mrs. Goddard, thoughtfully. "It never
+struck me before. I wonder whether that is the reason women always like
+men who never make any compliments at all?"
+
+The squire's face assumed an amusing expression of inquiry and surprise.
+
+"Is that personal?" he asked.
+
+"Oh--of course not," answered Mrs. Goddard in some confusion. She blushed
+and turning towards the fire took up the poker and pretended to stir the
+coals. Women always delight in knocking a good fire to pieces, out of
+pure absence of mind. John Short saw the movement and, escaping suddenly
+from the maternal conversation of Mrs. Ambrose, threw himself upon his
+knee on the hearth-rug and tried to take the poker from his hostess's
+hand.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, don't! Let me do it--please!" he exclaimed.
+
+"But I can do it very well myself," said she protesting and not relaxing
+her hold upon the poker. But John was obstinate in his determination to
+save her trouble, and rudely tried to get the instrument away.
+
+"Please don't--you hurt me," said Mrs. Goddard petulantly.
+
+"Oh--I beg your pardon--I wanted to help you," said John leaving his
+hold. "I did not really hurt you--did I?" he asked, almost tenderly.
+
+"Dreadfully," replied Mrs. Goddard, half angry and half amused at his
+impatience and subsequent contrition. The squire sat complacently in his
+chair, watching the little scene. John hated him more than ever, and grew
+very red. Mrs. Goddard saw the boy's embarrassment and presently
+relented.
+
+"I daresay you will do it better than I," she said, handing him the
+poker, which John seized with alacrity. "That big coal--there," she
+added, pointing to a smouldering block in the corner of the grate.
+
+"I did not mean to be rude," said John. "I only wanted to help you." He
+knelt by her side poking the fire industriously. "I only wanted to get a
+chance to talk to you," he added, in a low voice, barely audible to Mrs.
+Goddard as she leaned forward.
+
+"I am afraid you cannot do that just now," she said, not unkindly, but
+with the least shade of severity in her tone. "You will get dreadfully
+hot if you stay there, so near the fire."
+
+"I don't mind the heat in the least," said John heroically. Nevertheless
+as she did not give him any further encouragement he was presently
+obliged to retire, greatly discomfited. He could not spend the evening on
+his knees with the poker in his hand.
+
+"Bad failure," remarked the squire in an undertone as soon as John had
+rejoined Mrs. Ambrose, who had not quite finished her lecture on
+homoeopathy.
+
+Mrs. Goddard leaned back in her chair and looked at Mr. Juxon rather
+coolly. She did not want him to laugh at John, though she was not willing
+to encourage John herself.
+
+"You should not be unkind," she said. "He is such a nice boy--why should
+you wish him to be uncomfortable?"
+
+"Oh, I don't in the least. I could not help being amused a little. I am
+sure I don't want to be unkind."
+
+Indeed the squire had not shown himself to be so, on the whole, and he
+did not refer to the matter again during the evening. He kept his place
+for some time by Mrs. Goddard's side and then, judging that he had
+sufficiently asserted his superiority, rose and talked to Mrs. Ambrose.
+But John, being now in a thoroughly bad humour, could not take his vacant
+seat with a good grace. He stood aloof and took up a book that lay upon
+the table and avoided looking at Mrs. Goddard. By and by, when the party
+broke up, he said good-night in such a particularly cold and formal tone
+of voice that she stared at him in surprise. But he took no notice of her
+look and went away after the Ambroses, in that state of mind which boys
+call a huff.
+
+But on the following day John repented of his behaviour. All day long he
+wandered about the garden of the vicarage, excusing himself from joining
+the daily skating which formed the staple of amusement during the
+Christmas week, by saying that he had an idea for a copy of verses and
+must needs work it out. But he inwardly hoped that Mrs. Goddard would
+come to the vicarage late in the afternoon, without the inevitable Mr.
+Juxon, and that he might then get a chance of talking to her. He was not
+quite sure what he should say. He would find words on the spur of the
+moment; it would at all events be much easier than to meet her on the ice
+at the Hall with all the rest of them and to see Mr. Juxon pushing her
+about in that detestable chair, with the unruffled air of superiority
+which John so hated to see upon his face. The vicar suspected more than
+ever that there was something wrong; he had seen some of the by-play on
+the previous evening, and had noticed John's ill-concealed disappointment
+at being unable to dislodge the sturdy squire from his seat. But Mrs.
+Ambrose seemed to be very obtuse, and the vicar would have been the last
+to have spoken of his suspicions, even to the wife of his bosom. It was
+his duty to induce John to go back to his work at the end of the week; it
+was not his duty to put imputations upon him which Mrs. Ambrose would
+naturally exaggerate and which would drive her excellent heart into a
+terrible state of nervous anxiety.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard did not come back to the vicarage on that day, and John
+went to dinner with a sad heart. It did not seem like a day at all if he
+had not seen her and talked with her. He had now no doubt whatever that
+he was seriously in love, and he set himself to consider his position.
+The more he considered it, the more irreconcilable it seemed to be with
+the passion which beset him. A child could see that for several years, at
+least, he would not be in a position to marry. With Mr. Juxon at hand
+from year's end to year's end, the owner of the Hall, of the
+Billingsfield property and according to all appearances of other
+resources besides,--with such a man constantly devoted to her, could Mrs.
+Goddard be expected to wait for poor John three years, even two years,
+from the time of the examination for the classical Tripos? Nothing was
+more improbable, he was forced to admit. And yet, the idea of life if he
+did not marry Mrs. Goddard was dismal beyond all expression; he would
+probably not survive it. He did not know what he should do. He shrank
+from the thought of declaring his love to her at once. He remembered with
+pain that she had a terrible way of laughing at him when he grew
+confidential or too complimentary, and he dreaded lest at the supreme
+moment of his life he should appear ridiculous in her eyes--he, a mere
+undergraduate. If he came out at the head of the Tripos it would be
+different; and yet that seemed so long to wait, especially while Mr.
+Juxon lived at the Hall and Mrs. Goddard lived at the park gates.
+Suddenly a thought struck him which filled him with delight; it was just
+possible that Mr. Juxon had no intention of marrying Mrs. Goddard. If he
+had any such views he would probably have declared them before now, for
+he had met her every day during more than half a year. John longed to ask
+some one the question. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose, who might be supposed to know
+everything connected with Mrs. Goddard, could tell him. He felt very
+nervous at the idea of speaking to the vicar on the subject, and yet it
+seemed to him that no one else could set his mind at rest. If he were
+quite certain that Mr. Juxon had no intention of offering himself to the
+charming tenant of the cottage, he might return to his work with some
+sense of security in the future. Otherwise he saw only the desperate
+alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved
+her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of
+hearing any day that she had married the squire. To be laughed at would
+be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle,
+would be awful. No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth;
+it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done. Having at
+last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of
+dinner, his spirits rose a little. He took another glass of the vicar's
+mild ale and felt that he could face his fate.
+
+"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr. Ambrose?" he said as they
+rose from table.
+
+"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the
+drawing-room, he returned to find John. There was a low, smouldering fire
+in the study grate, and John had lit a solitary candle. The room looked
+very dark and dismal and John was seated in one of the black leather
+chairs, waiting.
+
+"Anything about those verses you were speaking of to-day?" asked the
+vicar cheerfully, in anticipation of a pleasant classical chat.
+
+"No," said John, gloomily. "The fact is--" he cleared his throat, "the
+fact is, I want to ask you rather a delicate question, sir."
+
+The vicar's heavy eyebrows contracted; the lines of his face all turned
+downwards, and his long, clean-shaved upper lip closed sharply upon its
+fellow, like a steel trap. He turned his grey eyes upon John's averted
+face with a searching look.
+
+"Have you got into any trouble at Trinity, John?" he asked severely.
+
+"Oh no--no indeed," said John. Nothing was further from his thoughts than
+his college at that moment. "I want to ask you a question, which no one
+else can answer. Is--do you think that--that Mr. Juxon has any idea of
+marrying Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+The vicar started in astonishment and laid both hands upon the arms of
+his chair.
+
+"What--in the world--put that--into your head?" he asked very slowly,
+emphasising every word of his question. John was prepared to see his old
+tutor astonished but was rather taken aback at the vicar's tone.
+
+"Do you think it is likely, sir?" he insisted.
+
+"Certainly not," answered the vicar, still eyeing him suspiciously.
+"Certainly not. I have positive reasons to prove the contrary. But, my
+dear John, why, in the name of all that is sensible, do you ask me such a
+question? You don't seriously think of proposing--"
+
+"I don't see why I should not," said John doggedly, seeing that he was
+found out.
+
+"You don't see why you should not? Why the thing is perfectly absurd, not
+to say utterly impossible! John, you are certainly mad."
+
+"I don't see why," repeated John. "I am a grown man. I have good
+prospects--"
+
+"Good prospects!" ejaculated the vicar in horror. "Good prospects! Why,
+you are only an undergraduate at Cambridge."
+
+"I may be senior classic in a few months," objected John. "That is not
+such a bad prospect, it seems to me."
+
+"It means that you may get a fellowship, probably will--in the course of
+a few years. But you lose it if you marry. Besides--do you know that Mrs.
+Goddard is ten years older than you, and more?"
+
+"Impossible," said John in a tone of conviction.
+
+"I know that she is. She will be two and thirty on her next birthday, and
+you are not yet one and twenty."
+
+"I shall be next month," argued John, who was somewhat taken aback,
+however, by the alarming news of Mrs. Goddard's age. "Besides, I can go
+into the church, before I get a fellowship--"
+
+"No, you can't," said the vicar energetically. "You won't be able to
+manage it. If you do, you will have to put up with a poor living."
+
+"That would not matter. Mrs. Goddard has something--"
+
+"An honourable prospect!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, growing more and more
+excited. "To marry a woman ten years older than yourself because she has
+a little money of her own! You! I would not have thought it of you,
+John--indeed I would not!"
+
+Indeed no one was more surprised than John Short himself, when he found
+himself arguing the possibilities of his marriage with his old tutor. But
+he was an obstinate young fellow enough and was not inclined to give up
+the fight easily.
+
+"Really," he objected, "I cannot see anything so very terrible in the
+idea. I shall certainly make my way in the world. You know that it is not
+for the sake of her money. Many men have married women ten years older
+than themselves, and not half so beautiful and charming, I am sure."
+
+"I don't believe it," said the vicar, "and if they have, why it has been
+very different, that is all. Besides, you have not known Mrs. Goddard a
+week--positively not more than five days--why, it is madness! Do you mean
+to tell me that at the end of five days you believe you are seriously
+attached to a lady you never saw in your life before?"
+
+"I saw her once," said John. "That day when I waked Muggins--"
+
+"Once! Nearly three years ago! I have no patience with you, John! That a
+young fellow of your capabilities should give way to such a boyish fancy!
+It is absolutely amazing! I thought you were growing to like her society
+very much, but I did not believe it would, come to this!"
+
+"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said John stoutly.
+
+"It is something to be afraid of," answered the vicar.
+
+"Oh, do not be alarmed," retorted John. "I will do nothing rash. You have
+set my mind at rest in assuring me that she will not marry Mr. Juxon. I
+shall not think of offering myself to Mrs. Goddard until after the
+Tripos."
+
+"Offering myself"--how deliciously important the expression sounded to
+John's own ears! It conveyed such a delightful sense of the possibilities
+of life when at last he should feel that he was in a position to offer
+himself to any woman, especially to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"I have a great mind not to ask you to come down, even if you do turn out
+senior classic," said the vicar, still fuming with excitement. "But if
+you put off your rash action until then, you will probably have changed
+your mind."
+
+"I will never change my mind," said John confidently. It was evident,
+nevertheless, that if the romance of his life were left to the tender
+mercies of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, it was likely to come to an
+abrupt termination. When the two returned to the society of Mrs. Ambrose,
+the vicar was still very much agitated and John was plunged in a gloomy
+melancholy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+The vicar's suspicions were more than realized and he passed an
+uncomfortable day after his interview with John, in debating what he
+ought to do, whether he ought to do anything at all, or whether he should
+merely hasten his old pupil's departure and leave matters to take care of
+themselves. He was a very conscientious man, and he felt that he was
+responsible for John's conduct towards Mrs. Goddard, seeing that she had
+put herself under his protection, and that John was almost like one of
+his family. His first impulse was to ask counsel of his wife, but he
+rejected the plan, reflecting with great justice that she was very fond
+of John and had at first not been sure of liking Mrs. Goddard; she would
+be capable of thinking that the latter had "led Short on," as she would
+probably say. The vicar did not believe this, and was therefore loath
+that any one else should. He felt that circumstances had made him Mrs.
+Goddard's protector, and he was moreover personally attached to her; he
+would not therefore do or say anything whereby she was likely to
+appear to any one else in an unfavourable light. It was incredible that
+she should have given John any real encouragement. Mr. Ambrose wondered
+whether he ought to warn her of his pupil's madness. But when he thought
+about that, it seemed unnecessary. It was unlikely that John would betray
+himself during his present visit, since the vicar had solemnly assured
+him that there was no possibility of a marriage so far as Mr. Juxon was
+concerned. It was undoubtedly a very uncomfortable situation but there
+was evidently nothing to be done; Mr. Ambrose felt that to speak to Mrs.
+Goddard would be to precipitate matters in a way which could not but
+cause much humiliation to John Short and much annoyance to herself. He
+accordingly held his peace, but his upper lip set itself stiffly and his
+eyes had a combative expression which told his wife that there was
+something the matter.
+
+After breakfast John went out, on pretence of walking in the garden, and
+Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were left alone. The latter, as usual after the
+morning meal, busied herself about the room, searching out those secret
+corners which she suspected Susan of having forgotten to dust. The vicar
+stood looking out of the window. The weather was grey and it seemed
+likely that there would be a thaw which would spoil the skating.
+
+"I think," said Mrs. Ambrose, "that John is far from well."
+
+"What makes you say that?" inquired the vicar, who was thinking of him at
+that very moment.
+
+"Anybody might see it. He has no appetite--he ate nothing at breakfast
+this morning. He looks pale. My dear, that boy will certainly break
+down."
+
+"I don't believe it," answered Mr. Ambrose still looking out of the
+window. His hands were in his pockets, thrusting the skirts of his
+clerical coat to right and left; he slowly raised himself upon his toes
+and let himself down again, repeating the operation as though it helped
+him to think.
+
+"That is the way you spoil all your coats, Augustin," said his wife
+looking at him from behind. "I assure you, my dear, that boy is not well.
+Poor fellow, all alone at college with nobody to look after him--"
+
+"We have all had to go through that. I do not think it hurts him a bit,"
+said the vicar, slowly removing his hands from his pockets in deference
+to his wife's suggestion.
+
+"Then what is it, I would like to know? There is certainly something the
+matter. Now I ask you whether he looks like himself?"
+
+"Perhaps he does look a little tired."
+
+"Tired! There is something on his mind, Augustin. I am positively certain
+there is something on his mind. Why won't you tell me?"
+
+"My dear--" began the vicar, and then stopped short. He was a very
+truthful man, and as he knew very well what was the matter with John he
+was embarrassed to find an answer. "My dear," he repeated, "I do not
+think he is ill."
+
+"Then I am right," retorted Mrs. Ambrose, triumphantly. "It is just as I
+thought, there is something on his mind. Don't deny it, Augustin; there
+is something on his mind."
+
+Mr. Ambrose was silent; he glared fiercely at the window panes.
+
+"Why don't you tell me?" insisted his better half. "I am quite sure you
+know all about it. Augustin, do you know, or do you not?"
+
+Thus directly questioned the vicar turned sharply round, sweeping the
+window with his coat tails.
+
+"My dear," he said, shortly, "I do know. Can you not imagine that it may
+be a matter which John does not care to have mentioned?"
+
+Mrs. Ambrose grew red with annoyance. She had set her heart on finding
+out what had disturbed John, and the vicar had apparently made up his
+mind that she should not succeed. Such occurrences were very rare between
+that happy couple.
+
+"I cannot believe he has done anything wrong," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+"Anything which need be concealed from me--the interest I have always
+taken--"
+
+"He has not done anything wrong," said the vicar impatiently. "I do wish
+you would drop the subject--"
+
+"Then why should it be concealed from me?" objected his wife with
+admirable logic. "If it is anything good he need not hide his light under
+a bushel, I should think."
+
+"There are plenty of things which are neither bad nor good," argued the
+vicar, who felt that if he could draw Mrs. Ambrose into a Socratic
+discussion he was safe.
+
+"That is a distinct prevarication, Augustin," said she severely. "I am
+surprised at you."
+
+"Not at all," retorted the vicar. "What has occurred to John is not owing
+to any fault of his." In his own mind the good man excused himself by
+saying that John could not have helped falling in love with Mrs. Goddard.
+But his wife turned quickly upon him.
+
+"That does not prevent what has occurred to him, as you call it, from
+being good, or more likely bad, to judge from his looks."
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Ambrose, driven to bay, "I entirely decline to
+discuss the point."
+
+"I thought you trusted me, Augustin."
+
+"So I do--certainly--and I always consult you about my own affairs."
+
+"I think I have as much right to know about John as you have," retorted
+his wife, who seemed deeply hurt.
+
+"That is a point then which you ought to settle with John," said the
+vicar. "I cannot betray his confidence, even to you."
+
+"Oh--then he has been making confidences to you?"
+
+"How in the world should I know about his affairs unless he told me?"
+
+"One may see a great many things without being told about them, you
+know," answered Mrs. Ambrose, assuming a prim expression as she examined
+a small spot in the tablecloth. The vicar was walking up and down the
+room. Her speech, which was made quite at random, startled him. She, too,
+might easily have observed John's manner when he was with Mrs. Goddard;
+she might have guessed the secret, and have put her own interpretation on
+John's sudden melancholy.
+
+"What may one see?" asked the vicar quickly.
+
+"I did not say one could see anything," answered his wife. "But from your
+manner I infer that there really is something to see. Wait a minute--what
+can it be?"
+
+"Nothing--my dear, nothing," said the vicar desperately.
+
+"Oh, Augustin, I know you so well," said the implacable Mrs. Ambrose. "I
+am quite sure now, that it is something I have seen. Deny it, my dear."
+
+The vicar was silent and bit his long upper lip as he marched up and down
+the room.
+
+"Of course--you cannot deny it," she continued. "It is perfectly clear.
+The very first day he arrived--when you came down from the Hall, in the
+evening--Augustin, I have got it! It is Mrs. Goddard--now don't tell me
+it is not. I am quite sure it is Mrs. Goddard. How stupid of me! Is it
+not Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"If you are so positive," said the vicar, resorting to a form of defence
+generally learned in the nursery, "why do you ask me?"
+
+"I insist upon knowing, Augustin, is it, or is it not, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"My dear, I positively refuse to answer any more questions," said the
+vicar with tardy firmness.
+
+"Oh, it is no matter," retorted Mrs. Ambrose in complete triumph, "if it
+were not Mrs. Goddard of course you would say so at once."
+
+A form of argument so unanswerable, that the vicar hastily left the room
+feeling that he had basely betrayed John's confidence, and muttering
+something about intolerable curiosity. Mrs. Ambrose had vanquished her
+husband, as she usually did on those rare occasions when anything
+approaching to a dispute arose between them. Having come to the
+conclusion that "it" was Mrs. Goddard, the remainder of the secret needed
+no discovery. It was plain that John must be in love with the tenant of
+the cottage, and it seemed likely that it would devolve upon Mrs. Ambrose
+to clear up the matter. She was very fond of John and her first
+impression was that Mrs. Goddard, whom she now again suspected of having
+foreign blood, had "led him on"--an impression which the vicar had
+anticipated when he rashly resolved not to tell his wife John's secret.
+She knew very well that the vicar must have told John his mind in regard
+to such an attachment, and she easily concluded that he must have done so
+on the previous evening when John called him into the study. But she had
+just won a victory over her husband, and she consequently felt that he
+was weak, probably too weak to save the situation, and it was borne in
+upon her that she ought to do something immediately. Unhappily she did
+not see quite clearly what was to be done. She might go straight to Mrs.
+Goddard and accuse her of having engaged John's affections; but the more
+she thought of that, the more diffident she grew in regard to the result
+of such an interview. Curiosity had led her to a certain point, but
+caution prevented her from going any further. Mrs. Ambrose was very
+cautious. The habit of living in a small place, feeling that all her
+actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them,
+had made her even more careful than she was by nature. It would be very
+unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. Goddard unless she were very sure
+of the result. Mrs. Goddard was hardly a friend. In Mrs. Ambrose's
+opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost
+daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not constitute
+friendship. Nevertheless the vicar's wife would have been ashamed to own
+that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of
+Mrs. Goddard's real character; especially as the latter had requested the
+vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at
+Billingsfield. Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained
+over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally
+the events of the last few days. She remembered distinctly that John had
+perpetually pursued Mrs. Goddard, and that although the latter seemed to
+find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose's knowledge
+given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and
+signals, which in the good lady's mind were classified under the term
+"flirting." Mrs. Ambrose's ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated;
+thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had
+not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just.
+Mrs. Goddard had not flirted with John. It is worthy of notice that in
+proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an
+explanation from Mrs. Goddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually
+arrived at the conclusion that it was John's fault. Half an hour ago, in
+the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be
+John's fault. She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity.
+Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be passed over with
+indifference. It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very
+soon.
+
+John thought so too. Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar
+knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him
+to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of
+marrying Mrs. Goddard. He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once
+and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over. He would then come
+back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the
+prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs.
+Goddard's feet. But of course he must have one farewell interview. Oh,
+those farewell interviews! Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is
+taken without leave!
+
+Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving
+the vicarage on the morrow. Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an
+equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly
+pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for
+his health. She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she
+was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be
+helped. The vicar was moved by his wife's apparent indifference. John, he
+said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but
+at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of
+fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the
+consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress. John
+saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of
+going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night's
+interview. But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt
+to explain to himself what was happening.
+
+But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his
+intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he
+meant to see Mrs. Goddard before he left he must go to her at once. He
+therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in
+the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road.
+
+He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. Goddard. He meant, of
+course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving
+suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to
+accomplish it. He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into
+his head spontaneously. His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he
+blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage. Almost before he knew where
+he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the
+presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved. But to his great
+annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her. Mrs. Goddard sat near
+the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep
+sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and
+hands as she read. Mrs. Goddard extended her hand, without rising.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Short?" she said. The young man stood hat in hand in
+the middle of the room, feeling very nervous. It was strange that he
+should experience any embarrassment now, considering how many hours he
+had spent in her company during the last few days. He blushed and
+stammered.
+
+"How do you do? I, in fact--I have come to say good-bye," he blurted out.
+
+"So soon?" said Mrs. Goddard calmly. "Pray sit down."
+
+"Are you really going away, Mr. Short?" asked Nellie. "We are so sorry to
+lose you." The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been
+reading, and thought it very appropriate. Her mother smiled.
+
+"Yes--as Nellie says--we are sorry to lose you," she said. "I thought you
+were to stay until Monday?"
+
+"So I was--but--very urgent business--not exactly business of course, but
+work--calls me away sooner." Having delivered himself of this masterpiece
+of explanation John looked nervously at Nellie and then at his hat and
+then, with an imploring glance, at Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"But we shall hear of you, Mr. Short--after the examinations, shall we
+not?"
+
+"Oh yes," said John eagerly. "I will come down as soon as the lists are
+out."
+
+"You have my best wishes, you know," said Mrs. Goddard kindly. "I feel
+quite sure that you will really be senior classic."
+
+"Mamma is always saying that--it is quite true," explained Nellie.
+
+John blushed again and looked gratefully at Mrs. Goddard. He wished
+Nellie would go away, but there was not the least chance of that.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "I often say it. We all take a great interest
+in your success here."
+
+"You are very kind," murmured John. "Of course I shall come down at once
+and tell you all about it, if I succeed. I do not really expect to be
+first, of course. I shall be satisfied if I get a place in the first ten.
+But I mean to do my best."
+
+"No one can do more," said Mrs. Goddard, leaning back in her chair and
+looking into the fire. Her face was quiet, but not sad as it sometimes
+was. There was a long silence which John did not know how to break.
+Nellie sat upon a carved chair by the side of the fireplace dangling her
+legs and looking at her toes, turning them alternately in and out. She
+wished John would go for she wanted to get back to her book, but had been
+told it was not good manners to read when there were visitors. John
+looked at Mrs. Goddard's face and was about to speak, and then changed
+his mind and grew red and said nothing. Had she noticed his shyness she
+would have made an effort at conversation, but she was absent-minded
+to-day, and was thinking of something else. Suddenly she started and
+laughed a little.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said. "What were you saying, Mr. Short?" Had
+John been saying anything he would have repeated it, but being thus
+interrogated he grew doubly embarrassed.
+
+"I--I have not much to say--except good-bye," he answered.
+
+"Oh, don't go yet," said Mrs. Goddard. "You are not going this afternoon?
+It is always so unpleasant to say good-bye, is it not?"
+
+"Dreadfully," answered John. "I would rather say anything else in the
+world. No; I am going early to-morrow morning. There is no help for it,"
+he added desperately. "I must go, you know."
+
+"The next time you come, you will be able to stay much longer," said Mrs.
+Goddard in an encouraging way. "You will have no more terms, then."
+
+"No indeed--nothing but to take my degree."
+
+"And what will you do then? You said the other day that you thought
+seriously of going into the church."
+
+"Oh mamma," interrupted Nellie suddenly looking up, "fancy Mr. Short in a
+black gown, preaching like Mr. Ambrose! How perfectly ridiculous he would
+look!"
+
+"Nellie--Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, "do not talk nonsense. It is
+very rude to say Mr. Short would look ridiculous."
+
+"I didn't mean to be rude, mamma," returned Nellie, blushing scarlet and
+pouting her lips, "only it would be very funny, wouldn't it?"
+
+"I daresay it would," said John, relieved by the interruption. "I wish
+you would advise me what to do, Mrs. Goddard," he added in a confidential
+tone.
+
+"I?" she exclaimed, and then laughed. "How should I be able to advise
+you?"
+
+"I am sure you could," said John, insisting. "You have such wonderfully
+good judgment--"
+
+"Have I? I did not know it. But, tell me, if you come out very high are
+you not sure of getting a fellowship?"
+
+"It is likely," answered John indifferently. "But I should have to give
+it up if I married--"
+
+"Surely, Mr. Short," cried Mrs. Goddard, with a laugh that cut him to the
+quick, "you do not think of marrying for many years to come?"
+
+"Oh--I don't know," he said, blushing violently, "why should not I?"
+
+"In the first place, a man should never marry until he is at least five
+and twenty years old," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly.
+
+"Well--I may be as old as that before I get the fellowship."
+
+"Yes, I daresay. But even then, why should you want to resign a handsome
+independence as soon as you have got it? Is there anything else so good
+within your reach?"
+
+"There is the church, of course," said John. "But Miss Nellie seems to
+think that ridiculous--"
+
+"Never mind Nellie," answered Mrs. Goddard. "Seriously, Mr. Short, do you
+approve of entering the church merely as a profession, a means of earning
+money?"
+
+"Well--no--I did not put it in that way. But many people do."
+
+"That does not prove that it is either wise or decent," said Mrs.
+Goddard. "If you felt impelled to take orders from other motives, it
+would be different. As I understand you, you are choosing a profession
+for the sake of becoming independent."
+
+"Certainly," said John.
+
+"Well, then, there is nothing better for you to do than to get a
+fellowship and hold it as long as you can, and during that time you can
+make up your mind." She spoke with conviction, and the plan seemed good.
+"But I cannot imagine," she continued, "why you should ask my advice."
+
+"And not to marry?" inquired John nervously.
+
+"There is plenty of time to think of that when you are thirty--even five
+and thirty is not too late."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed John, "I think that is much too old!"
+
+"Do you call me old?" asked Mrs. Goddard serenely. "I was thirty-one on
+my last birthday."
+
+For the twentieth time, John felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Not
+only had he said an unconscionably stupid thing, but Mrs. Goddard, after
+advising him not to marry for ten years, had almost hinted that she might
+meanwhile be married herself. What else could she mean by the remark? But
+John was hardly a responsible being on that day. His views of life and
+his understanding were equally disturbed.
+
+"No indeed," he protested on hearing her confession of age. "No
+indeed--why, you are the youngest person I ever saw, of course. But with
+men--it is quite different."
+
+"Is it? I always thought women were supposed to grow old faster than men.
+That is the reason why women always marry men so much older than
+themselves."
+
+"Oh--in that case--I have nothing more to say," replied John in very
+indistinct tones. The perspiration was standing upon his forehead; the
+room swam with him and he felt a terrible, prickly sensation all over his
+body.
+
+"Mamma, shan't I open the door? Mr. Short is so very hot," said Nellie
+looking at him in some astonishment. At that moment John felt as though
+he could have eaten little Nellie, long legs, ringlets and all, with
+infinite satisfaction. He rose suddenly to his feet.
+
+"The fact is--it is late--I must really be saying good-bye," he
+stammered.
+
+"Must you?" said Mrs. Goddard, suspecting that something was the matter.
+"Well, I am very sorry to say good-bye. But you will be coming back soon,
+will you not?"
+
+"Yes--I don't know--perhaps I shall not come back at all. Good-bye--Mrs.
+Goddard--good-bye, Miss Nellie."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, looking at him with some
+anxiety. "You are not ill? What is the matter?"
+
+"Oh dear no, nothing," answered John with an unnatural laugh. "No thank
+you--good-bye."
+
+He managed to get out of the door and rushed down to the road. The cold
+air steadied his nerves. He felt better. With a sudden revulsion of
+feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against
+the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general,
+not forgetting poor little Nellie.
+
+"If ever I cross that threshold again--" he muttered with tragic
+emphasis. His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously
+as he strode towards the vicarage. Several little boys in ragged
+smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own
+fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned.
+
+So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the
+following morning. He sent an excuse to Mr. Juxon explaining that the
+urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when
+the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared
+the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some
+of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly
+of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay
+and which had come to such a miserable end.
+
+Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs. Goddard, he was
+surprised to find that his memory failed him. He could not recall
+anything which could satisfactorily account for the terrible
+disappointment and distress he had felt. She had only said that she was
+thirty-one years old, precisely as the vicar had stated on the previous
+evening, and she had advised him not to marry for some years to come. But
+she had laughed, and his feelings had been deeply wounded--he could not
+tell precisely at what point in the conversation, but he was quite
+certain that she had laughed, and oh! that terrible Nellie! It was very
+bitter, and John felt that the best part of his life was lived out. He
+went back to his books with a dark and melancholy tenacity of purpose,
+flavoured by a hope that he might come to some sudden and awful end in
+the course of the next fortnight, thereby causing untold grief and
+consternation to the hard-hearted woman he had loved. But before the
+fortnight had expired he found to his surprise that he was intensely
+interested in his work, and once or twice he caught himself wondering how
+Mrs. Goddard would look when he went back to Billingsfield and told her
+he had come out at the head of the classical Tripos--though, of course,
+he had no intention of going there, nor of ever seeing her again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Mr. Juxon was relieved to hear that John Short had suddenly gone back to
+Cambridge. He had indeed meant to like him from the first and had
+behaved towards him with kindness and hospitality; but while ready to
+admire his good qualities and to take a proper amount of interest in his
+approaching contest for honours, he had found him a troublesome person to
+deal with and, in his own words, a nuisance. Matters had come to a climax
+after the tea at the cottage, when the squire had so completely
+vanquished him, but since that evening the two had not met.
+
+The opposition which John brought to bear against Mr. Juxon was not,
+however, without its effect. The squire was in that state of mind in
+which a little additional pressure sufficed to sway his resolutions.
+It has been seen that he had for some time regarded Mrs. Goddard's
+society as an indispensable element in his daily life; he had been so
+much astonished at discovering this that he had absented himself for
+several days and had finally returned ready to submit to his fate, in so
+far as his fate required that he should see Mrs. Goddard every day.
+Shortly afterwards John had appeared and by his persistent attempts to
+monopolise Mrs. Goddard's conversation had again caused an interruption
+in the squire's habits, which the latter had resented with characteristic
+firmness. The very fact of having resisted John had strengthened and
+given a new tone to Mr. Juxon's feelings towards his tenant. He began to
+watch the hands of the clock with more impatience than formerly when,
+after breakfast, he sat reading the papers before the library fire,
+waiting for the hour when he was accustomed to go down to the cottage.
+His interest in the papers decreased as his interest in the time of day
+grew stronger, and for the first time in his life he found to his great
+surprise that after reading the news of the day with the greatest care,
+he was often quite unable to remember a word of what he had read. Then,
+at first, he would be angry with himself and would impose upon himself
+the task of reading the paper again before going to the cottage. But very
+soon he found that he had to read it twice almost every day, and this
+seemed such an unreasonable waste of time that he gave it up, and fell
+into very unsystematic habits.
+
+For some days, as though by mutual consent, neither Mrs. Goddard nor the
+squire spoke of John Short. The squire was glad he was gone and hoped
+that he would not come back, but was too kind-hearted to say so; Mrs.
+Goddard instinctively understood Mr. Juxon's state of mind and did not
+disturb his equanimity by broaching an unpleasant subject. Several days
+passed by after John had gone and he would certainly not have been
+flattered had he known that during that time two, out of the four persons
+he had met so often in his short holiday, had never so much as mentioned
+him.
+
+One afternoon in January the squire found himself alone with Mrs.
+Goddard. It was a great exception, and she herself doubted whether she
+were wise to receive him when she had not Nellie with her. Nellie had
+gone to the vicarage to help Mrs. Ambrose with some work she had in hand
+for her poor people, but Mrs. Goddard had a slight headache and had
+stayed at home in consequence. The weather was very bad; heavy clouds
+were driving overhead and the north-east wind howled and screamed through
+the leafless oaks of the park, driving a fine sleet against the cottage
+windows and making the dead creepers rattle against the wall. It was a
+bitter January day, and Mrs. Goddard felt how pleasant a thing it was to
+stay at home with a book beside her blazing fire. She was all alone, and
+Nellie would not be back before four o'clock. Suddenly a well-known step
+echoed upon the slate flags without and there was a ring at the bell.
+Mrs. Goddard had hardly time to think what she should do, as she laid her
+book upon her knee and looked nervously over her shoulder towards the
+door. It was awkward, she thought, but it could not be helped. In such
+weather it seemed absurd to send the squire away because her little girl
+was not with her. He had come all the way down from the Hall to spend
+this dreary afternoon at the cottage--she could not send him away. There
+were sounds in the passage as of some one depositing a waterproof coat
+and an umbrella, the door opened and Mr. Juxon appeared upon the
+threshold.
+
+"Come in," said Mrs. Goddard, banishing her scruples as soon as she saw
+him. "I am all alone," she added rather apologetically. The squire, who
+was a simple man in many ways, understood the remark and felt slightly
+embarrassed.
+
+"Is Miss Nellie out?" he asked, coming forward and taking Mrs. Goddard's
+hand. He had not yet reached the point of calling the child plain
+"Nellie;" he would have thought it an undue familiarity.
+
+"She is gone to the vicarage," answered Mrs. Goddard. "What a dreadful
+day! You must be nearly frozen. Will you have a cup of tea?"
+
+"No thanks--no, you are very kind. I have had a good walk; I am not
+cold--never am. As you say, in such weather I could not resist the
+temptation to come in. This is a capital day to test that India-rubber
+tubing we have put round your windows. Excuse me--I will just look and
+see if the air comes through."
+
+Mr. Juxon carefully examined the windows of the sitting-room and then
+returned to his seat.
+
+"It is quite air-tight, I think," he said with some satisfaction, as he
+smoothed his hair with his hand.
+
+"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Goddard. "It was so very good of you."
+
+"Not a bit of it," returned the squire cheerily. "A landlord's chief
+pre-occupation ought to be the comfort of his tenants and his next
+thought should be to keep his houses in repair. I never owned any
+houses before, so I have determined to start with good principles."
+
+"I am sure you succeed. You walked down?"
+
+"Always walk, in any weather. It is much less trouble and much cheaper.
+Besides, I like it."
+
+"The best of all reasons. Then you will not have any tea? I almost wish
+you would, because I want some myself."
+
+"Oh of course--in that case I shall be delighted. Shall I ring?"
+
+He rang and Martha brought the tea. Some time was consumed in the
+preparations which Mr. Juxon watched with interest as though he had never
+seen tea made before. Everything that Mrs. Goddard did interested him.
+
+"I do not know why it is," she said at last, "but weather like this is
+delightful when one is safe at home. I suppose it is the contrast--"
+
+"Yes indeed. It is like the watch below in dirty-weather."
+
+"Excuse me--I don't quite understand--"
+
+"At sea," explained the squire. "There is no luxury like being below when
+the decks are wet and there is heavy weather about."
+
+"I should think so," said Mrs. Goddard. "Have you been at sea much, Mr.
+Juxon?"
+
+"Thirty years," returned the squire laconically. Mrs. Goddard looked at
+him in astonishment.
+
+"You don't mean to say you have been a sailor all your life?"
+
+"Does that surprise you? I have been a sailor since I was twelve years
+old. But I got very tired of it. It is a hard life."
+
+"Were you in the navy, Mr. Juxon?" asked Mrs. Goddard eagerly, feeling
+that she was at last upon the track of some information in regard to his
+past life.
+
+"Yes--I was in the navy," answered the squire, slowly. "And then I was at
+college, and then in the navy again. At last I entered the merchant
+service and commanded my own ships for nearly twenty years."
+
+"How very extraordinary! Why then, you must have been everywhere."
+
+"Very nearly. But I would much rather be in Billingsfield."
+
+"You never told me," said Mrs. Goddard almost reproachfully. "What a
+change it must have been for you, from the sea to the life of a country
+gentleman!"
+
+"It is what I always wanted."
+
+"But you do not seem at all like the sea captains one hears about--"
+
+"Well, perhaps not," replied the squire thoughtfully. "There are a great
+many different classes of sea captains. I always had a taste for books. A
+man can read a great deal on a long voyage. I have sometimes been at sea
+for more than two years at a time. Besides, I had a fairly good education
+and--well, I suppose it was because I was a gentleman to begin with and
+was more than ten years in the Royal Navy. All that makes a great
+difference. Have you ever made a long voyage, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"I have crossed the channel," said she. "But I wish you would tell me
+something more about your life."
+
+"Oh no--it is very dull, all that. You always make me talk about myself,"
+said the squire in a tone of protestation.
+
+"It is very interesting."
+
+"But--could we not vary the conversation by talking about you a little?"
+suggested Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Oh no! Please--" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. She grew pale
+and busied herself again with the tea. "Do tell me more about your
+voyages. I suppose that was the way you collected so many beautiful
+things, was it not?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," answered the squire, looking at her curiously. "In
+fact of course it was. I was a great deal in China and South America and
+India, and in all sorts of places where one picks up things."
+
+"And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?"
+
+"Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil
+your carpet."
+
+The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point
+of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she
+had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost
+control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day.
+
+"Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about
+at first," she remarked, in order to say something.
+
+"I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her
+again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard--I don't mean to be inquisitive you know,
+but--I always want to be of any use."
+
+She looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I
+have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can
+help you in any way--you have only to say the word."
+
+Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the
+genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was
+surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was
+in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had
+suffered during the greater part of the last three years.
+
+"You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter--I have a
+headache."
+
+"Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed
+embarrassed.
+
+"You have done too much already," said Mrs. Goddard, fearing that she had
+not sufficiently acknowledged his offer of assistance.
+
+"I cannot do too much. That is impossible," he said in a tone of
+conviction. "I have very few friends, Mrs. Goddard, and I like to think
+that you are one of the best of them."
+
+"I am sure--I don't know what to say, Mr. Juxon," she answered, somewhat
+startled by the directness of his speech. "I am sure you have always been
+most kind, and I hope you do not think me ungrateful."
+
+"I? You? No--dear me, please never mention it! The fact is, Mrs.
+Goddard--" he stopped and smoothed Ms hair. "What particularly
+disagreeable weather," he remarked irrelevantly, looking out of the
+window at the driving sleet.
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked down and slowly stirred her tea. She was pale and her
+hand trembled a little, but no one could have guessed that she was
+suffering any strong emotion. Mr. Juxon looked towards the window, and
+the grey light of the winter's afternoon fell coldly upon his square
+sunburned face and carefully trimmed beard. He was silent for a moment,
+and then, still looking away from his companion, he continued in a less
+hesitating tone.
+
+"The fact is, I have been thinking a great deal of late," he said, "and
+it has struck me that your friendship has grown to be the most important
+thing in my life." He paused again and turned his hat round upon his
+knee. Still Mrs. Goddard said nothing, and as he did not look at her he
+did not perceive that she was unnaturally agitated.
+
+"I have told you what my life has been," he continued presently. "I have
+been a sailor. I made a little money. I finally inherited my uncle's
+estate here. I will tell you anything else you would like to ask--I don't
+think I ever did anything to conceal. I am forty-two years old. I have
+about five thousand a year and I am naturally economical. I would like to
+make you a proposal--a very respectful proposal, Mrs. Goddard--"
+
+Mrs. Goddard uttered a faint exclamation of surprise and fell back in her
+chair, staring with wide eyes at the squire, her cheeks very pale and her
+lips white. He was too much absorbed in what he was saying to notice the
+short smothered ejaculation, and he was too much embarrassed to look at
+her.
+
+"Mrs. Goddard," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "will you marry
+me?"
+
+He was not prepared for the result of his speech. He had pondered it for
+some time and had come to the conclusion that it was best to say as
+little as possible and to say it plainly. It was an honourable proposal
+of marriage from a man in middle life to a lady he had known and
+respected for many months; there was very little romance about it; he did
+not intend that there should be any. As soon as he had spoken he turned
+his head and looked to her for his answer. Mrs. Goddard had clasped her
+small white hands over her face and had turned her head away from him
+against the cushion of the high backed chair. The squire felt very
+uncomfortable in the dead silence, broken only by the sleet driving
+against the window panes with a hissing, rattling sound, and by the
+singing of the tea-kettle. For some seconds, which to Juxon seemed like
+an eternity, Mrs. Goddard did not move. At last she suddenly dropped
+her hands and looked into the squire's eyes. He was startled by the ashen
+hue of her face.
+
+"It is impossible," she said, shortly, in broken tones. But the squire
+was prepared for some difficulties.
+
+"I do not see the impossibility," he said quite calmly. "Of course,
+I would not press you for an answer, my dear Mrs. Goddard. I am afraid
+I have been very abrupt, but I will go away, I will leave you to
+consider--"
+
+"Oh no, no!" cried the poor lady in great distress. "It is quite
+impossible--I assure you it is quite, quite impossible!"
+
+"I don't know," said Mr. Juxon, who saw that she was deeply moved, but
+was loath to abandon the field without a further struggle. "I am not a
+very young man, it is true--but I am not a very old one either. You, my
+dear Mrs. Goddard, have been a widow for some years--"
+
+"I?" cried Mrs. Goddard with a wild hysterical laugh. "I! Oh God of
+mercy! I wish I were." Again she buried her face in the cushion. Her
+bosom heaved violently.
+
+The squire started as though he had been struck, and the blood rushed to
+his brown face so that the great veins on his temples stood out like
+cords.
+
+"Did I--did I understand you to say that--your husband is living?" he
+asked in a strong, loud voice, ringing with emotion.
+
+Mrs. Goddard moved a little and seemed to make a great effort to speak.
+
+"Yes," she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the
+room in terrible agitation.
+
+"But where?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. "Mrs. Goddard, I
+think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of
+him?"
+
+By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat
+supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly
+staring eyes.
+
+"You have a right to know," she said. "He is in Portland--sentenced to
+twelve years hard labour for forgery."
+
+She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she
+did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite
+motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the
+palms turned upwards on her knees.
+
+Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong
+language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of
+the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and
+he uttered aloud one strong and solemn ejaculation, more an invocation
+than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he
+looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady
+and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes,
+motionless, staring out at the driving sleet.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to
+attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should
+have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for
+in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened
+them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the
+grey light.
+
+"Mr. Juxon," she said faintly, "come here, please."
+
+The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His
+face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing.
+
+"Mr. Juxon," said Mrs. Goddard, speaking in a low voice, but with far
+more calm than he could have expected, "you have a right to know my
+story. You have been very kind to me, you have made an honourable offer
+to me, you have said you were my friend. I ought to have told you before.
+If I had had any idea of what was passing in your mind, I would have told
+you, cost what it might."
+
+Mr. Juxon gravely bowed his head. She was quite right, he thought. He had
+a right to know all. With all his kind-heartedness he was a stern man by
+nature.
+
+"Yes," continued Mrs. Goddard, "you have every right to know. My
+husband," her voice trembled, "was the head of an important firm in
+London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's
+death I married Mr. Goddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant
+tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon
+me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my
+husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern.
+When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My
+husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He
+speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his
+hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three
+years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed.
+It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and
+brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of
+retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of
+one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at
+Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most
+of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I
+thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers assured me that I
+ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It
+is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who
+conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I
+would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and
+gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story.
+I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--"
+
+Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her
+voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her
+eyes.
+
+"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her
+side, but who was in reality deeply moved.
+
+"No--she thinks he--that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she
+fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and
+rocking herself from side to side.
+
+"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her
+arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for
+having caused you so much pain--"
+
+"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady.
+
+"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard
+dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears.
+
+"I think you behaved very honourably--very generously," continued Mr.
+Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood
+much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you--you
+are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I
+should go?"
+
+"Yes--it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all
+about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to
+his feet.
+
+"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this--this very unfortunate
+day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?"
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears.
+
+"How good you are!" she said softly.
+
+"Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend.
+Good-bye--G--God bless you!" He seized her hand and squeezed it and then
+hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with
+Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him.
+
+The squire was not a romantic character. He was a strong plain man, who
+had seen the world and was used to most forms of danger and to a good
+many forms of suffering. He was kind-hearted and generous, capable of
+feeling sincere sympathy for others, and under certain circumstances of
+being deeply wounded himself. He had indeed a far more refined nature
+than he himself suspected and on this memorable day he had experienced
+more emotions than he remembered to have felt in the course of many
+years.
+
+After long debate and after much searching inquiry into his own motives
+he had determined to offer himself to Mrs. Goddard, and he had
+accordingly done so in his own straightforward manner. It had seemed
+a very important action in his life, a very solemn step, but he was not
+prepared for the acute sense of disappointment which he felt when Mrs.
+Goddard first said it was impossible for her to accept him, still less
+had he anticipated the extraordinary story which she had told him, in
+explanation of her refusal. His ideas were completely upset. That Mrs.
+Goddard was not a widow after all, was almost as astounding as that she
+should prove to be the wife of a felon. But Mr. Juxon was no less
+persuaded that she herself was a perfectly good and noble woman, than he
+had been before. He felt that he would like to cut the throat of the
+villain himself; but he resolved that he would more than ever try to be a
+good friend to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+He walked slowly through the storm towards his house, his broad figure
+facing the wind and sleet with as much ease as a steamer forging against
+a head sea. He was perfectly indifferent to the weather; but Stamboul
+slunk along at his heels, shielding himself from the driving wet snow
+behind his master's sturdy legs. The squire was very much disturbed. The
+sight of his own solemn butler affected him strangely. He stared about
+the library in a vacant way, as though he had never seen the place
+before. The realisation of his own calm and luxurious life seemed
+unnatural, and his thoughts went back to the poor weeping woman he had
+just left. She, too, had enjoyed all this, and more also. She had
+probably been richer than he. And now she was living on five hundred a
+year in one of his own cottages, hiding her shame in desolate
+Billingsfield, the shame of her husband, the forger.
+
+It was such a hopeless position, the squire thought. No one could help
+her, no one could do anything for her. For many weeks, revolving the
+situation in his mind, he had amused himself by thinking how she would
+look when she should be mistress of the Hall, and wondering whether
+little Nellie would call him "father," or merely "Mr. Juxon." And now,
+she turned out to be the wife of a forger, sentenced to hard labour in a
+convict prison, for twelve years. For twelve years--nearly three must
+have elapsed already. In nine years more Goddard would be out again.
+Would he claim his wife? Of course--he would come back to her for
+support. And poor little Nellie thought he was dead! It would be a
+terrible day when she had to be told. If he only would die in
+prison!--but men sentenced to hard labour rarely die. They are well cared
+for. It is a healthy life. He would certainly live through it and come
+back to claim his wife. Poor Mrs. Goddard! her troubles were not ended
+yet, though the State had provided her with a respite of twelve years.
+
+The squire sat long in his easy-chair in the great library, and forgot to
+dress for dinner--he always dressed, even though he was quite alone. But
+the solemn face of his butler betrayed neither emotion nor surprise when
+the master of the Hall walked into the dining-room in his knickerbockers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Nellie came home from the vicarage she found her mother looking very
+ill. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her features were drawn
+and tear-stained, while the beautiful waves of her brown hair had lost
+their habitual neatness and symmetry. The child noticed these things,
+with a child's quickness, but explained them on the ground that her
+mother's headache was probably much worse. Mrs. Goddard accepted the
+explanation and on the following day Nellie had forgotten all about it;
+but her mother remembered it long, and it was many days before she
+recovered entirely from the shock of her interview with the squire. The
+latter did not come to see her as usual, but on the morning after his
+visit he sent her down a package of books and some orchids from his
+hothouses. He thought it best to leave her to herself for a little while;
+the very sight of him, he argued, would be painful to her, and any
+meeting with her would be painful to himself. He did not go out of the
+house, but spent the whole day in his library among his books, not indeed
+reading, but pretending to himself that he was very busy. Being a strong
+and sensible man he did not waste time in bemoaning his sorrows, but he
+thought about them long and earnestly. The more he thought, the more it
+appeared to him that Mrs. Goddard was the person who deserved pity rather
+than he himself. His mind dwelt on the terrors of her position in case
+her husband should return and claim his wife and daughter when the twelve
+years were over, and he thought with horror of Nellie's humiliation, if
+at the age of twenty she should discover that her father during all these
+years had not been honourably dead and buried, but had been suffering the
+punishment of a felon in Portland. That the only attempt he had ever made
+to enter the matrimonial state should have been so singularly unfortunate
+was indeed a matter which caused him sincere sorrow; he had thought too
+often of being married to Mary Goddard to be able to give up the idea
+without a sigh. But it is due to him to say that in the midst of his own
+disappointment he thought much more of her sorrows than of his own, a
+state of mind most probably due to his temperament.
+
+He saw also how impossible it was to console Mrs. Goddard or even to
+alleviate the distress of mind which she must constantly feel. Her
+destiny was accomplished in part, and the remainder seemed absolutely
+inevitable. No one could prevent her husband from leaving his prison when
+his crime was expiated; and no one could then prevent him from joining
+his wife and ending his life under her roof. At least so it seemed.
+Endless complications would follow. Mrs. Goddard would certainly have to
+leave Billingsfield--no one could expect the Ambroses or the squire
+himself to associate with a convict forger. Mr. Juxon vaguely wondered
+whether he should live another nine years to see the end of all this, and
+he inwardly determined to go to sea again rather than to witness such
+misery. He could not see, no one could see how things could possibly turn
+out in any other way. It would have been some comfort to have gone to the
+vicar, and to have discussed with him the possibilities of Mrs. Goddard's
+future. The vicar was a man after his own heart, honest, reliable,
+charitable and brave; but Mr. Juxon thought that it would not be quite
+loyal towards Mrs. Goddard if he let any one else know that he was
+acquainted with her story.
+
+For two days he stayed at home and then he went to see her. To his
+surprise she received him very quietly, much as she usually did, without
+betraying any emotion; whereupon he wished that he had not allowed two
+days to pass without making his usual visit. Mrs. Goddard almost wished
+so too. She had been so much accustomed to regard the squire as a friend,
+and she had so long been used to the thought that Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose
+knew of her past trouble, that the fact of the squire becoming acquainted
+with her history seemed to her less important, now that it was
+accomplished, than it seemed to the squire himself. She had long thought
+of telling him all; she had seriously contemplated doing so when he first
+came to Billingsfield, and now at last the thing was done. She was glad
+of it. She was no longer in a false position; he could never again think
+of marrying her; they could henceforth meet as friends, since he was so
+magnanimous as to allow their friendship to exist. Her pride had suffered
+so terribly in the beginning that it was past suffering now. She felt
+that she was in the position of a suppliant asking only for a quiet
+resting-place for herself and her daughter, and she was grateful to the
+people who gave her what she asked, feeling that she had fallen among
+good Samaritans, whereas in merry England it would have been easy for her
+to have fallen among priests and Pharisees.
+
+So it came about that in a few days her relations with Mr. Juxon were
+re-established upon a new basis, but more firmly and satisfactorily than
+before, seeing that now there was no possibility of mistake. And for a
+long time it seemed as though matters would go on as before. Neither Mrs.
+Goddard nor the squire ever referred to the interview on that memorable
+stormy afternoon, and so far as the squire could judge his life and hers
+might go on with perfect tranquillity until it should please the powers
+that be and the governor of Portland to set Mr. Walter Goddard at
+liberty. Heaven only knew what would happen then, but it was provided
+that there should be plenty of time to prepare for anything which might
+ensue. The point upon which Mrs. Goddard had not spoken plainly was that
+which concerned her probable treatment of her husband after his
+liberation. She had passed that question over in silence. She had
+probably never dared to decide. Most probably she would at the last
+minute seek some safer retreat than Billingsfield and make tip her mind
+to hide for the rest of her life. But Mr. Juxon had heard of women who
+had carried charity as far as to receive back their husbands under even
+worse circumstances; women were soft-hearted creatures, reflected the
+squire, and capable of anything.
+
+Few people in such a situation could have acted consistently as though
+nothing had happened. But Mr. Juxon's extremely reticent nature found it
+easy to bury other people's important secrets at least as deeply as he
+buried the harmless details of his own honest life. Not a hair of his
+smooth head was ruffled, not a line of his square manly face was
+disturbed. He looked and acted precisely as he had looked and acted
+before. His butler remarked that he ate a little less heartily of late,
+and that on one evening, as has been recorded, the squire forgot to
+dress for dinner. But the butler in his day had seen greater
+eccentricities than these; he had the greatest admiration for Mr. Juxon
+and was not inclined to cavil at small things. A real gentleman, of the
+good sort, who dressed for dinner when he was alone, who never took too
+much wine, who never bullied the servants nor quarrelled unjustly with
+the bills, was, as the butler expressed it, "not to be sneezed at, on
+no account." The place was a little dull, but the functionary was well
+stricken in years and did not like hard work. Mr. Juxon seemed to be
+conscious that as he never had visitors at the Hall and as there were
+consequently no "tips," his staff was entitled to an occasional fee,
+which he presented always with great regularity, and which had the
+desired effect. He was a generous man as well as a just.
+
+The traffic in roses and orchids and new books continued as usual between
+the Hall and the cottage, and for many weeks nothing extraordinary
+occurred. Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard met frequently, and the only
+difference to be observed in the manner of the former was that she
+mentioned John Short very often, and every time she mentioned him she
+fixed her grey eyes sternly upon Mrs. Goddard, who however did not notice
+the scrutiny, or, if she did, was not in the least disturbed by it. For a
+long time Mrs. Ambrose entertained a feeble intention of addressing Mrs.
+Goddard directly upon the subject of John's affections, but the longer
+she put off doing so, the harder it seemed to do it. Mrs. Ambrose had
+great faith in the sternness of her eye under certain circumstances, and
+seeing that Mrs. Goddard never winced, she gradually fell into the belief
+that John had been the more to blame, if there was any blame in the
+matter. She had indeed succeeded in the first instance, by methods of her
+own which have been heretofore detailed, in extracting a sort of
+reluctant admission from her husband; but since that day he had proved
+obdurate to all entreaty. Once only he had said with considerable
+impatience that John was a very silly boy, and was much better engaged
+with his books at college than in running after Mrs. Goddard. That was
+all, and gradually as the regular and methodical life at the vicarage
+effaced the memory of the doings at Christmas time, the good Mrs.
+Ambrose forgot that anything unpleasant had ever occurred. There was no
+disturbance of the existing relations and everything went on as before
+for many weeks. The February thaw set in early and the March winds began
+to blow before February was fairly out. Nat Barker the octogenarian
+cripple, who had the reputation of being a weather prophet, was
+understood to have said that the spring was "loike to be forrard t'year,"
+and the minds of the younger inhabitants were considerably relieved. Not
+that Nat Barker's prophecies were usually fulfilled; no one ever
+remembered them at the time when they might have been verified. But they
+were always made at the season when people had nothing to do but to talk
+about them. Mr. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, turned up his nose
+at them, and said he "wished Nat Barker had to dig a parish depth grave
+in three hours without a drop of nothin' to wet his pipe with, and if he
+didden fine that groun' oncommon owdacious Thomas Reid he didden know.
+They didden know nothin', sir, them parish cripples." Wherewith the
+worthy sexton took his way with a battered tin can to get his "fours"
+at the Feathers. He did not patronise the Duke's Head. It was too
+new-fangled for him, and he suspected his arch enemy, Mr. Abraham Boosey,
+of putting a rat or two into the old beer to make it "draw," which
+accounted for its being so "hard." But Mr. Abraham Boosey was the
+undertaker, and he, Thomas Reid, was the sexton, and it did not do to
+express these views too loudly, lest perchance Mr. Boosey should, just in
+his play, construct a coffin or two just too big for the regulation
+grave, and thereby leave Mr. Reid in the lurch. For the undertaker and
+the gravedigger are as necessary to each other, as Mr. Reid maintained,
+as a pair of blackbirds in a hedge.
+
+But the spring was "forrard t'year" and the weather was consequently even
+more detestable than usual at that season. The roads were heavy. The rain
+seemed never weary of pouring down and the wind never tired of blowing.
+The wet and leafless creepers beat against the walls of the cottage, and
+the chimneys smoked both there and at the vicarage. The rooms were
+pervaded with a disagreeable smell of damp coal smoke, and the fires
+struggled desperately to burn against the overwhelming odds of rain and
+wind which came down the chimneys. Mrs. Goddard never remembered to have
+been so uncomfortable during the two previous winters she had spent in
+Billingsfield, and even Nellie grew impatient and petulant. The only
+bright spot in those long days seemed to be made by the regular visits of
+Mr. Juxon, by the equally regular bi-weekly appearance of the Ambroses
+when they came to tea, and by the little dinners at the vicarage. The
+weather had grown so wet and the roads so bad that on these latter
+occasions the vicar sent his dogcart with Reynolds and the old mare,
+Strawberry, to fetch his two guests. Even Mr. Juxon, who always walked
+when he could, had got into the habit of driving down to the cottage
+in a strange-looking gig which he had imported from America, and which,
+among all the many possessions of the squire, alone attracted the
+unfavourable comment of his butler. He would have preferred to see a good
+English dogcart, high in the seat and wheels, at the door of the Hall,
+instead of that outlandish vehicle; but Joseph Ruggles, the groom,
+explained to him that it was easier to clean than a dogcart, and that
+when it rained he sat inside with the squire.
+
+On a certain evening in February, towards the end of the month, Mr. and
+Mrs. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon came to have tea with Mrs. Goddard. Mr. Juxon
+had at first not been regularly invited to these entertainments. They
+were perhaps not thought worthy of his grandeur; at all events both the
+vicar's wife and Mrs. Goddard had asked him very rarely. But as time went
+on and Mr. Juxon's character developed under the eyes of the little
+Billingsfield society, it had become apparent to every one that he was a
+very simple man, making no pretensions whatever to any superiority on
+account of his station. They grew more and more fond of him, and ended by
+asking him to their small sociable evenings. On these occasions it
+generally occurred that the squire and the vicar fell into conversation
+about classical and literary subjects while the two ladies talked of the
+little incidents of Billingsfield life, of Tom Judd's wife and of Joe
+Staines, the choir boy, who was losing his voice, and of similar topics
+of interest in the very small world in which they lived.
+
+The present evening had not been at all a remarkable one so far as the
+talk was concerned. The drenching rain, the tendency of the fire to
+smoke, the general wetness and condensed depravity of the atmosphere had
+affected the spirits of the little party. They were not gay, and they
+broke up early. It was not nine o'clock when all had gone, and Mrs.
+Goddard and little Eleanor were left alone by the side of their
+drawing-room fire. The child sat upon a footstool and leaned her head
+against her mother's knee. Mrs. Goddard herself was thoughtful and
+sad, without precisely knowing why. She generally looked forward with
+pleasure to meeting the Ambroses, but this evening she had been rather
+disappointed. The conversation had dragged, and the excellent Mrs.
+Ambrose had been more than usually prosy. Nellie had complained of a
+headache and leaned wearily against her mother's knee.
+
+"Tell me a story, mamma--won't you? Like the ones you used to tell me
+when I was quite a little girl."
+
+"Dear child," said her mother, who was not thinking of story-telling, "I
+am afraid I have forgotten all the ones I ever knew. Besides, darling, it
+is time for you to go to bed."
+
+"I don't want to go to bed, mamma. It is such a horrid night. The wind
+keeps me awake."
+
+"You will not sleep at all if I tell you a story," objected Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Mr. Juxon tells me such nice stories," said Nellie, reproachfully.
+
+"What are they about, dear?"
+
+"Oh, his stories are beautiful. They are always about ships and the blue
+sea and wonderful desert islands where he has been. What a wonderful man
+he is, mamma, is not he?"
+
+"Yes, dear, he talks very interestingly." Mrs. Goddard stroked Nellie's
+brown curls and looked into the fire.
+
+"He told me that once, ever so many years ago--he must be very old,
+mamma--" Nellie paused and looked up inquiringly.
+
+"Well, darling--not so very, very old. I think he is over forty."
+
+"Over forty--four times eleven--he is not four times as old as I am.
+Almost, though. All his stories are ever so many years ago. He said he
+was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new ship, and the name of
+the ship was--let me see, what was the name? I think it was--"
+
+Mrs. Goddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child's shoulder.
+
+"Did you hear anything, Nellie?" she asked quickly. Nellie looked up in
+some surprise.
+
+"No, mamma. When? Just now? It must have been the wind. It is such a
+horrid night. The name of the ship was the 'Zephyr'--I remember, now."
+She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story. Mrs.
+Goddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window. She
+had probably been mistaken.
+
+"And where did the ship sail to, Nellie dear?" she asked, smoothing the
+child's curls again and forcing herself to smile.
+
+"Oh--the ship was a perfectly new ship and it was the most beautiful
+weather in the world. They were sailing away ever so far, towards the
+straits of Magellan. I was so glad because I knew where the straits of
+Magellan were--and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished. But I had been
+learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen
+there, in my geography that very morning--was not it lucky? So I knew all
+about it--mamma, how nervous you are! It is nothing but the wind. I wish
+you would listen to my story--"
+
+"I am listening, darling," said Mrs. Goddard, making a strong effort to
+overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her. "Go on,
+sweetheart--you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing
+away--"
+
+"Mr. Juxon was, mamma," said Nellie correcting her mother with the
+asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects.
+
+"Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the ship was the 'Zephyr.'"
+
+"Yes--the 'Zephyr,'" repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified. "It was at
+Christmas time he said--but that is summer in the southern hemisphere,"
+she added, proud of her knowledge. "So it was very fine weather. And Mr.
+Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a
+cigar--"
+
+"He never smokes, dear," interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie
+that she was listening.
+
+"Well, but he did then, because he said so," returned Nellie unmoved.
+"And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he
+saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship--the most wonderful thing
+he ever saw," added Nellie with some redundance of expression.
+
+"Was it a whale, child?" asked her mother, staring into the fire and
+trying to pay attention.
+
+"A whale, mamma!" repeated Nellie contemptuously. "As if there were
+anything remarkable about a whale! Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales,
+I am sure."
+
+"Well, what was it, dear?"
+
+"It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a
+thousand times as big as the ship--oh mamma! What was that?"
+
+Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking
+towards the window. Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of
+her chair.
+
+"Somebody knocked at the window, mamma," said Nellie breathlessly. "And
+then somebody said 'Mary'--quite loud. Oh mamma, what can it be?"
+
+"Mary?" repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream.
+
+"Yes--quite loud. Oh mamma! it must be Mary's young man--he does
+sometimes come in the evening."
+
+"Mary's young man, child?" Mrs. Goddard's heart leaped. Her cook's name
+was Mary, as well as her own. Nellie naturally never associated the name
+with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it.
+
+"Yes mamma. Don't you know? The postman--the man with the piebald horse."
+The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any
+letters and probably did not know the postman by sight.
+
+"At this time of night!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "It is too bad. Mary is
+gone to bed."
+
+"Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting
+up for you in the drawing-room," suggested Nellie with much good sense.
+"Well, he can't come in, can he, mamma?"
+
+"Certainly not," said her mother. "But I think you had much better go to
+bed, my dear. It is half-past nine." She spoke indistinctly, almost
+thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. But
+Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her
+mother.
+
+"Oh not yet," said she. "I have not nearly finished about the
+sea-serpent. Mr. Juxon said it was not like anything in the world. Do
+listen, mamma! It is the most wonderful story you ever heard. It was
+all covered with blue and green scales, and it rolled, and rolled, and
+rolled, and rolled, till at last it rolled up against the side of the
+ship with such a tremendous bump that Mr. Juxon fell right down on his
+back."
+
+"Yes dear," said Mrs. Goddard mechanically, as the child paused.
+
+"You don't seem to mind at all!" cried Nellie, who felt that her efforts
+to amuse her mother were not properly appreciated. "He fell right down on
+his back and hurt himself awfully."
+
+"That was very sad," said Mrs. Goddard. "Did he catch the sea-serpent
+afterwards ?"
+
+"Catch the sea-serpent! Why mamma, don't you know that nobody has ever
+caught the sea-serpent? Why, hardly anybody has ever seen him, even!"
+
+"Yes dear, but I thought Mr. Juxon--"
+
+"Of course, Mr. Juxon is the most wonderful man--but he could not catch
+the sea-serpent. Just fancy! When he got up from his fall, he looked and
+he saw him quite half a mile away. He must have gone awfully fast, should
+not you think so? Because, you know, it was only a minute."
+
+"Yes, my child; and it is a beautiful story, and you told it so nicely.
+It is very interesting and you must tell me another to-morrow. But now,
+dear, you must really go to bed, because I am going to bed, too. That man
+startled me so," she said, passing her small white hand over her pale
+forehead and then staring into the fire.
+
+"Well, I don't wonder," answered Nellie in a patronising tone. "Such a
+dreadful night too! Of course, it would startle anybody. But he won't try
+again, and you can scold Mary to-morrow and then she can scold her young
+man."
+
+The child spoke so naturally that all doubts vanished from Mrs. Goddard's
+mind. She reflected that children are much more apt to see things as they
+are, than grown people whose nerves are out of order. Nellie's
+conclusions were perfectly logical, and it seemed folly to doubt them.
+She determined that Mary should certainly be scolded on the morrow and
+she unconsciously resolved in her mind the words she should use; for she
+was rather a timid woman and stood a little in awe of her stalwart
+Berkshire cook, with her mighty arms and her red face, and her uncommonly
+plain language.
+
+"Yes dear," she said more quietly than she had been able to speak for
+some time, "I have no doubt you are quite right. I thought I heard his
+footsteps just now, going down the path. So he will not trouble us any
+more to-night. And now darling, kneel down and say your prayers, and then
+we will go to bed."
+
+So Nellie, reassured by the news that her mother was going to bed, too,
+knelt down as she had done every night during the eleven years of her
+life, and clasped her hands together, beneath her mother's. Then she
+cleared her throat, then she glanced at the clock, then she looked for
+one moment into the sweet serious violet eyes that looked down on her so
+lovingly, and then at last she bent her lovely little head and began to
+say her prayers, there, by the fire, at her mother's knees, while angry
+storm howled fiercely without and shook the closed panes and shutters
+and occasional drops of rain, falling down the short chimney, sputtered
+in the smouldering coal fire.
+
+"Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom
+come--"
+
+Nellie gave a loud scream and springing up from her knees flung her arms
+around her mother's neck, in uttermost, wildest terror.
+
+"Mamma, mamma!" she cried looking, and yet hardly daring to look, back
+towards the closed window. "It called 'MARY GODDARD'! It is you, mamma!
+Oh!"
+
+There was no mistaking it this time. While Nellie was saying her prayer
+there had come three sharp and distinct raps upon the wooden shutter, and
+a voice, not loud but clear, penetrating into the room in spite of wind
+and storm and rain.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard!" it said.
+
+Mrs. Goddard started to her feet, lifting Nellie bodily from the ground
+in her agony of terror; staring round the room wildly as though in search
+of some possible escape.
+
+"I must come in! I will come in!" said the voice again.
+
+"Oh don't let him in! Mamma! Don't let him in!" moaned the terrified
+child upon her breast, clinging to her and weighing her down, and
+grasping her neck and arm with convulsive strength.
+
+But in moments of great agitation timid people, or people who are thought
+timid, not uncommonly do brave things. Mrs. Goddard unclasped Nellie's
+hold and forced the terror-struck child into a deep chair.
+
+"Stay there, darling," she said with unnatural calmness. "Do not be
+afraid. I will go and open the door."
+
+Nellie was now too much frightened to resist. Mrs. Goddard went out into
+the little passage which was dimly lighted by a hanging lamp, and closed
+the door of the drawing-room behind her. She could hear Nellie's
+occasional convulsive sobs distinctly. For one moment she paused, her
+right hand on the lock of the front door, her left hand pressed to her
+side, leaning against the wall of the passage. Then she turned the key
+and the handle and drew the door in towards her. A violent gust of wind,
+full of cold and drenching rain, whirled into the passage and almost
+blinded her. The lamp flickered in the lantern overhead. But she looked
+boldly out, facing the wind and weather.
+
+"Come in!" she called in a low voice.
+
+Immediately there was a sound as of footsteps coming from the direction
+of the drawing-room window, across the wet slate flags which surrounded
+the cottage, and a moment afterwards, peering through the darkness, Mrs.
+Goddard saw a man with a ghastly face standing before her in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard's heart stood still as she looked at the wretched man, and
+tried to discover her husband's face, even a resemblance to him, in the
+haggard features she saw close before her. But he gave her small time for
+reflection; so soon as he had recognised her he sprang past her into the
+passage and pulling her after him closed the door.
+
+"Mary--don't you know me?" he said, in low tones. "You must save me--they
+are after me--" He stood close beside her in the narrow way, beneath
+the small lamp; he tried to put his arm around her and he bent down and
+brought his ghastly face close to hers. But she drew back as from a
+contamination. She was horrified, and it was a natural movement. She knew
+his voice even better than his features, now that he spoke. He pressed
+nearer to her and she thrust him back with her hands. Then suddenly a
+thought struck her; she took him by the sleeve and led him into the
+dining-room. There was no light there; she pushed him in.
+
+"Stay there one minute--"
+
+"No--no, you won't call--"
+
+"I will save you--there is--there is somebody in the drawing-room."
+Before he could answer her she was gone, leaving him alone in the dark.
+He listened intently, not venturing to leave the spot where she had
+placed him; he thought he heard voices and footsteps, but no one came out
+into the passage. It seemed an eternity to wait. At last she came,
+bearing a lighted candle in her hand. She carefully shut the door of the
+dining-room behind her and put the light upon the table. She moved like a
+person in a dream.
+
+"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair. "Are you hungry?" His sunken
+eyes sparkled. She brought food and ale and set them before him. He ate
+and drank voraciously in silence. She sat at the opposite side of the
+table--the solitary candle between them, and shading her eyes with one
+hand she gazed at his face.
+
+Walter Goddard was a man at least forty years of age. He had been thought
+very handsome once. He had light blue eyes and a fair skin with flaxen
+hair--now cropped short and close to his head. There was nearly a
+fortnight's growth of beard upon his face, but it was not yet sufficient
+to hide his mouth and chin. He had formerly worn a heavy moustache and
+it was chiefly the absence of it which now made it hard for his wife to
+recognise him. A battered hat, drenched and dripping with rain, shaded
+his brows. Possibly he was ashamed to remove it. His mouth was small and
+weak and his jaw was pointed. His whole expression was singularly
+disagreeable--his hands were filthy, and his face was not clean. About
+his neck was twisted a ragged woollen comforter, and he wore a
+smock-frock which was now soaked with water and clung to his thin figure.
+He devoured the food his wife had brought him, shivering from time to
+time as though he were still cold.
+
+Mrs. Goddard watched him in silence. She had done mechanically according
+to her first instinct, had led him in and had given him food. But she had
+not recovered herself sufficiently from her first horror and astonishment
+to realise her situation. At last she spoke.
+
+"How did you escape?" she asked. He bent lower than before, over his
+plate and would not look at her.
+
+"Don't ask me," he answered shortly.
+
+"Why did you do it?" she inquired again. Goddard laughed harshly; his
+voice was hoarse and cracked.
+
+"Why did I do it!" he repeated. "Did you ever hear of any one who would
+not escape from prison if he had the chance? Don't look at me like that,
+Mary--"
+
+"I am sorry for you," she said.
+
+"You don't seem very glad to see me," he answered roughly. "I might have
+known it."
+
+"Yes, you might have known it."
+
+It seemed a very hard and cruel thing to say, and Mary Goddard was very
+far from being a cruel woman by nature; but she was stunned by fear and
+disgust and horrified by the possibilities of harm suddenly brought
+before her.
+
+Goddard pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows upon the table
+supporting his chin in his hands. He scowled at her defiantly.
+
+"You have given me a warm reception, after nearly three years
+of--separation." There was a bitter sneer in the word.
+
+"I am horrified to see you here," she said simply. "You know very well
+that I cannot conceal you--"
+
+"Oh, I don't expect miracles," said Goddard contemptuously. "I don't know
+that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly
+agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved
+husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--"
+
+"I will do what I can for you, Walter," said his wife, whose unnatural
+calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation.
+
+"Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east," answered
+the convict savagely.
+
+"I have not got fifty pounds in the house," protested Mary Goddard, in
+some alarm. "I never keep much money--I can get it for you--"
+
+"I have a great mind to look," returned her husband suspiciously. "How
+soon can you get it?"
+
+"To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--"
+
+"So you keep a banker's account?"
+
+"Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!"
+
+"Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once." Suddenly his voice
+changed. "Oh, Mary--you used to love me!" cried the wretched man, burying
+his face in his hands.
+
+"I was very wrong," answered his wife, looking away from him. "You did
+not deserve it--you never did."
+
+"Because I was unfortunate!"
+
+"Unfortunate!" repeated Mary Goddard with rising scorn.
+"Unfortunate--when you were deceiving me every day of your life. I could
+have forgiven a great deal--Walter--but not that, not that!"
+
+"What? About the money?" he asked with sudden fierceness.
+
+"The money--no. Even though you were disgraced and convicted, Walter, I
+would have forgiven that, I would have tried to see you, to comfort you.
+I should have been sorry for you; I would have done what I could to help
+you. But I could not forgive you the rest; I never can."
+
+"Bah! I never cared for her," said the convict. But under his livid skin
+there rose a faint blush of shame.
+
+"You never cared for me--that is the reason I--am not glad to see you--"
+
+"I did, Mary. Upon my soul I did. I love you still!" He rose and came
+near to his wife, and again he would have put his arm around her. But she
+sprang to her feet with an angry light in her eyes.
+
+"If you dare to touch me, I will give you up!" she cried. Goddard shrank
+back to his chair, very pale and trembling violently.
+
+"You would not do that, Mary," he almost whined. But she remained
+standing, looking at him very menacingly.
+
+"Indeed I would--you don't know me," she said, between her teeth.
+
+"You are as hard as a stone," he answered, sullenly, and for some minutes
+there was silence between them.
+
+"I suppose you are going to turn me out into the rain again?" asked the
+convict.
+
+"You cannot stay here--you are not safe for a minute. You will have to
+go. You must come back to-morrow and I will give you the money. You had
+better go now--"
+
+"Oh, Mary, I would not have thought it of you," moaned Goddard.
+
+"Why--what else can I do? I cannot let you sleep in the house--I have no
+barn. If any one saw you here it would be all over. People know about
+it--"
+
+"What people?"
+
+"The vicar and his wife and Mr. Juxon at the Hall."
+
+"Mr. Juxon? What is he like? Would he give me up if he knew?"
+
+"I think he would," said Mary Goddard, thoughtfully. "I am almost sure he
+would. He is the justice of the peace here--he would be bound to."
+
+"Do you know him?" Goddard thought he detected a slight nervousness in
+his wife's manner.
+
+"Very well. This house belongs to him."
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated the convict. "I begin to see."
+
+"Yes--you see you had better go," said his wife innocently. "How can you
+manage to come here tomorrow? You cannot go on without the money--"
+
+"No--and I don't mean to," he answered roughly. Money was indeed an
+absolute necessity to him. "Give me what you have got in the house,
+anyhow. You may think better of it to-morrow. I don't trust people of
+your stamp."
+
+Mary Goddard rose without a word and left the room. When she was gone the
+convict set himself to finish the jug of ale she had brought, and looked
+about him. He saw objects that reminded him of his former home. He
+examined the fork with which he had eaten and remembered the pattern and
+the engraved initials as he turned it over in his hand. The very table
+itself had belonged to his house--the carpet beneath his feet, the chair
+upon which he sat. It all seemed too unnatural to be true. That very
+night, that very hour, he must go forth again into the wild February
+weather and hide himself, leaving all these things behind him; leaving
+behind too his wife, the woman he had so bitterly injured, but who was
+still his wife. It seemed impossible. Surely he might stay if he pleased;
+it was not true that detectives were on his track--it was all a dream,
+since that dreadful day when he had written that name, which was not his,
+upon a piece of paper. He had waked up and was again at home. But he
+started as he heard a footstep in the passage, being now accustomed to
+start at sounds which suggested pursuit; he started and he felt the wet
+smock-frock, which was his disguise, clinging to him as he moved, and the
+reality of the present returned to him with awful force. His wife again
+entered the room.
+
+"There are over nine pounds," she said. "It is all I have." She laid the
+money upon the table before him and remained standing. "You shall have
+the rest to-morrow," she added.
+
+"Can't I see Nellie?" he asked suddenly. It was the first time he had
+spoken of his child. Mrs. Goddard hesitated.
+
+"No," she said at last. "You cannot see her now. She must not be told;
+she thinks you are dead. You may catch a glimpse of her to-morrow--"
+
+"Well--it is better she should not know, I suppose. You could not
+explain."
+
+"No, Walter, I could not--explain. Come later to-morrow night--to the
+same window. I will undo the shutters and give you the money." Mary
+Goddard was almost overcome with exhaustion. It was a terrible struggle
+to maintain her composure under such circumstances; but necessity does
+wonders. "Where will you sleep to-night?" she asked presently. She pitied
+the wretch from her heart, though she longed to see him leave her house.
+
+"I will get into the stables of some public-house. I pass for a tramp."
+There was a terrible earnestness in the simple statement, which did more
+to make Mary Goddard realise her husband's position than anything else
+could have done. To people who live in the country the word "tramp" means
+so much.
+
+"Poor Walter!" said Mrs. Goddard softly, and for the first time since she
+had seen him the tears stood in her eyes.
+
+"Don't waste your pity on me," he answered. "Let me be off."
+
+There was half a loaf and some cheese left upon the table. Mrs. Goddard
+put them together and offered them to him.
+
+"You had better take it," she said. He took the food readily enough and
+hid it under his frock. He knew the value of it. Then he got upon his
+feet. He moved painfully, for the cold and the wet had stiffened his
+limbs already weakened with hunger and exhaustion.
+
+"Let me be off," he said again, and moved towards the door. His wife
+followed him in silence. In the passage he paused again.
+
+"Well, Mary," he said, "I suppose I ought to be grateful to you for not
+giving me up to the police."
+
+"You know very well," answered Mrs. Goddard, "that what I can do to save
+you, I will do. You know that."
+
+"Then do it, and don't forget the money. It's hanging this time if I'm
+caught."
+
+Mrs. Goddard uttered a low cry and leaned against the wall.
+
+"What?" she faltered. "You have not--"
+
+"I believe I killed somebody in getting away," answered the felon with a
+grim laugh. Then, without her assistance, he opened the door and went out
+into the pouring rain. The door shut behind him and Mary Goddard heard
+his retreating footsteps on the path outside. When he was fairly gone she
+suddenly broke down, and falling upon her knees in the passage beat her
+forehead against the wall in an agony of despair.
+
+Murderer--thief, forger and murderer, too! It was more than she could
+bear. Even now he was within a stone's throw of her house; a moment ago
+he had been here, beside her--there beyond, too, in the dining-room,
+sitting opposite to her at her own table as he had sat in his days of
+innocence and honour for many a long year before his crime. In the sudden
+necessity of acting, in the unutterable surprise of finding herself again
+face to face with him, she had been calm; now that he was gone she felt
+as though she must go mad. She asked herself if this filthy tramp, this
+branded villain, was the husband she had loved and cherished for years,
+whose beauty she had admired, whose hand she had held so often, whose
+lips she had kissed--if this was the father of her lovely child. It was
+all over now. There was blood upon his hands as well as other guilt. If
+he were caught he must die, or at the very least be imprisoned for life.
+He could never again be free to come forth after the expiation of his
+crimes and to claim her and his child. If he escaped now, it must be to
+live in a distant country under a perpetual disguise. If he were caught,
+the news of his capture would be in all the papers, the news of his trial
+for murder, the very details of his execution. The Ambroses would know
+and the squire, even the country folk, would perhaps at last know the
+truth about her. Life even in the quiet spot she had chosen would become
+intolerable, and she would be obliged to go forth again into a more
+distant exile. She bitterly repented having written to her husband in his
+prison to tell him where she was settled. It would have been sufficient
+to acquaint the governor with the fact, so that Goddard might know where
+she was when his term expired. She had never written but once, and he had
+perhaps not been allowed to answer the letter. His appearance at her door
+proved that he had received it. Would to God he had not, she thought.
+
+There were other things besides his crime of forgery which had acted far
+more powerfully upon Mary Goddard's mind, and which had broken for ever
+all ties of affection; circumstances which had appeared during his trial
+and which had shown that he had not only been unfaithful to those who
+trusted him, but had been unfaithful to the wife who loved him. That was
+what she could not forgive; it was the memory of that which rose like an
+impassable wall between her and him, worse than his frauds, his forgery,
+worse almost than his murder. He had done that which even a loving woman
+could not pardon, that which was past all forgiveness. That was why his
+sudden appearance roused no tender memories, elicited seemingly so little
+sympathy from her. She was too good a woman to say it, but she knew in
+her heart that she wished him dead, the very possibility of ever seeing
+him again gone from her life for ever, no matter how.
+
+But she must see him again, nevertheless, and to-morrow. To-morrow, too,
+she would have to meet the squire, and appear to act and talk as though
+nothing had happened in this terrible night. That would be the hardest of
+all, perhaps; even harder than meeting her husband for a brief moment in
+order to give him the means of escape. She felt that in helping him she
+was participating in his crimes, and yet, she asked herself, what woman
+would have acted differently? What woman, even though she might hate her
+husband with her whole soul, and justly, would yet be so hard-hearted as
+to refuse him assistance when he was flying for his life? It would be
+impossible. She must help him at any cost; but it was hard to feel that
+she must see the squire and behave with indifference, while her husband
+was lurking in the neighbourhood, when a detective might at any moment
+come to the door, and demand to search the house.
+
+These thoughts passed very quickly through her overwrought brain, as she
+knelt in the passage; kneeling because she felt she could no longer
+stand, the passionate tears streaming down her face, her small hands
+pressing her temples. Then she struggled to her feet and dried her eyes,
+steadying herself against the wall for a moment. She had almost forgotten
+little Nellie whom she had left in the drawing-room. She had told the
+child, when she went back to her, leaving Goddard alone in the dark, that
+the man was a poor starving tramp, but that she did not want Nellie to
+see him, because he looked so miserable. She would give him something to
+eat and send him away, she said, and meanwhile Nellie should sit by the
+drawing-room fire and wait for her. The child trusted her mother
+implicitly and was completely reassured. Mrs. Goddard dried her eyes,
+and re-entered the room. Nellie was curled up in a big chair with a book;
+she looked up quickly.
+
+"Why, mamma," she said, "you have been crying!"
+
+"Have I, darling? I daresay it was the sight of that poor man. He was
+very wretched."
+
+"Is he gone?" asked the child.
+
+It was unusually late and Nellie was beginning to be sleepy, so that she
+was more easily quieted than she could have been in ordinary
+circumstances. It might have struck her as strange that a wandering tramp
+should know her mother's Christian name, as still more inexplicable that
+her mother should have been willing to admit such a man at so late an
+hour. She had been badly frightened, but trusting her mother as she did,
+her terror had quickly disappeared and had been quickly followed by
+sleepiness.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard. did not sleep that night. She felt as though she could
+never sleep again, and for many hours she lay thinking of the new element
+of fear which had so suddenly come into her life at the very time when
+she believed herself to be safe for many years to come. She longed to
+know where her wretched husband was; whether he had found shelter for the
+night, whether he was still free or whether he had even then fallen into
+the hands of his pursuers. She knew that she could not have concealed him
+in the house and that she had done all that lay in her power for him. But
+she started at every sound, as the rain rattled against the shutters and
+the wind howled down the chimney.
+
+Walter Goddard, however, was safe for the present and was even
+luxuriously lodged, considering his circumstances, for he was comfortably
+installed amongst the hay in the barn of the "Feathers" inn. He had been
+in Billingsfield since early in the afternoon and had considered
+carefully the question of his quarters for the night. He had observed
+from a distance the landlord of the said inn, and had boldly offered to
+do a "day's work for a night's lodging." He said he was "tramping" his
+way back from London to his home in Yorkshire; he knew enough of the
+sound of the rough Yorkshire dialect to pass for a native of that county
+amongst ignorant labourers who had never heard the real tongue. The
+landlord of the Feathers consented to the bargain and Goddard was told
+that he might sleep in the barn if he liked, and should take a turn at
+cutting chaff the next day to pay for the convenience. The convict slept
+soundly; he was past lying awake in useless fits of remorse, and he was
+exhausted with his day's journey. Moreover he had now the immediate
+prospect of obtaining sufficient money to carry him safely out of the
+country, and once abroad he felt sure of baffling pursuit. He was an
+accomplished man and spoke French with a fluency unusual in Englishmen;
+he determined to get across the channel in some fishing craft; he would
+then make his way to Paris and enlist in the Foreign Legion. It would be
+safer than trying to go to America, where people were invariably caught
+as they landed. It was a race for life and death, and he knew it. Had he
+been able to obtain clothes, money and a disguise in London he would have
+travelled by rail. But that had been impossible and it now seemed a wiser
+plan to "tramp" it. His beard was growing rapidly and would soon make a
+complete disguise. Village constables are generally simple people, easily
+imposed upon, very different from London detectives; and hitherto he felt
+sure that he had baffled pursuit by the mere simplicity of his
+proceedings. The intelligent officials of Scotland Yard were used to
+forgers and swindlers who travelled by express trains and crossed to
+America by fashionable steamers. It did not strike them as very likely
+that a man of Walter Goddard's previous tastes and habits could get
+through the country in the guise of a tramp. If he had been possessed at
+the time of his escape of the money he so much desired he would probably
+have been caught; as it was, he got away without difficulty, and at the
+very time when every railway station and every port in the kingdom were
+being watched for him, he was lurking in the purlieus of Whitechapel, and
+then tramping his way east in comparative safety, half starved, it is
+true, but unmolested.
+
+That he was disappointed at the reception his wife had given him did not
+prevent him from sleeping peacefully that night. One thing alone
+disturbed him, and that was her mention of Mr. Juxon, in whose house, as
+she had told him, she lived. It seems incredible that a man in Walter
+Goddard's position, lost to every sense of honour, a criminal of the
+worst type, who had deceived his wife before he was indicted for forgery,
+who had certainly cared very little for her at any time, should now, in a
+moment of supreme danger, feel a pang of jealousy on hearing that his
+wife lived in the vicinity of the squire and occupied a house belonging
+to him. But he was too bad himself not to suspect others, especially
+those whom he had wronged, and the feeling was mingled with a strong
+curiosity to know whether this woman, who now treated him so haughtily
+and drew back from him as from some monstrous horror, was as good as she
+pretended to be. He said to himself that on the next day at dawn he would
+slip out of the barn and try whether he could not find some hiding-place
+within easy reach of the cottage, so as to be able to watch her dwelling
+at his ease throughout the day. The plan seemed a good one. Since he was
+obliged to wait twenty-four hours in order to get the money he wanted, he
+might as well employ the time profitably in observing his wife's habits.
+It would be long, he said to himself with a bitter sneer, before he
+troubled her again--he would just like to see.
+
+Having come to this decision he drew some of the hay over his body and in
+spite of cold and wet was soon peacefully asleep. But at early dawn he
+awoke with the alacrity of a man who constantly expects pursuit, and
+slipped down from the hayloft into the barn. There was no one stirring
+and he got over the fence at the back of the yard and skirted the fields
+in the direction of the church, finally climbing another stile and
+entering what he supposed to be the park. On this side the back of the
+church ran out into a broad meadow, where the larger portion of the
+ancient abbey had once stood. Goddard walked along close by the church
+walls. He knew from his observation on the previous afternoon that he
+could thus come out into the road in the vicinity of the cottage, unless
+his way through the park were interrupted by impassable wire fences. The
+ground was very heavy and he was sure not to meet anybody in the meadows
+in such weather.
+
+Suddenly he stopped and looked at a buttress that jutted out from the
+church and for the existence of which there seemed to be no ostensible
+reason. He examined it and found that it was not a buttress but
+apparently a half ruined chamber, which at some former period had been
+built upon the side of the abbey. Low down by the ground there was a
+hole, where a few stones seemed to have been removed and not replaced.
+Goddard knelt down in the long wet grass and put in his head; then he
+crept in on his hands and knees and presently disappeared.
+
+He found himself in a room about ten feet square, dimly lighted by a
+small window at the top, and surrounded by long horizontal niches. The
+floor, which was badly broken in some places, was of stone. Goddard
+examined the place carefully. It was evidently an old vault of the kind
+formerly built above ground for the lords of the manor; but the coffins,
+if there had ever been any, had been removed elsewhere. Goddard laughed
+to himself.
+
+"I might stay here for a year, if I could get anything to eat," he said
+to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+The squire had grown used to the position in which he found himself after
+Mary Goddard had told him her story. He continued his visits as formerly,
+and it could hardly be said that there was any change in his manner
+towards her; there was no need of any change, for even at the time when
+he contemplated making her his wife there had been nothing lover-like
+in his behaviour. He had been a friend and had treated her with all the
+respect due to a lonely lady who was his tenant, and even with a certain
+formality which had sometimes seemed unnecessary. But though there was no
+apparent alteration in his mode of talking, in his habit of bringing her
+flowers and books and of looking after the condition of the cottage, both
+she and he were perfectly conscious of the fact that they understood each
+other much better than before. They were united by the common bond of a
+common secret which very closely concerned one of them. Things were not
+as they had formerly been. Mrs. Goddard no longer felt that she had
+anything to hide; the squire knew that he no longer had anything to hope.
+If he had been a selfish man, if she had been a less sensible woman,
+their friendship might have ended then and there. But Mr. Juxon was not
+selfish, and Mary Goddard did not lack good sense. Having ascertained
+that in the ordinary course of events there was no possibility of ever
+marrying her, the squire did not at once give her over and go elsewhere;
+on the contrary he showed himself more desirous than ever of assisting
+her and amusing her. He was a patient man; his day might come yet, if
+Goddard died. It did not follow that if he could not marry Mrs. Goddard
+he must needs marry some one else; for it was not a wife that he sought,
+but the companionship of this particular woman as his wife. If he could
+not marry he could still enjoy at least a portion of that companionship,
+by visiting her daily and talking with her, and making himself a part of
+her life. He judged things very coldly and lost himself in no lofty
+flights of imagination. It was better that he should enjoy what fell in
+his way in at least seeing Mrs. Goddard and possessing her friendship,
+than that he should go out of his course in order to marry merely for the
+sake of marrying. He had seen so much of the active side of life that he
+was well prepared to revel in the peace which had fallen to his lot. He
+cared little whether he left an heir to the park; there were others of
+the name, and since the park had furnished matter for litigation during
+forty years before he came into possession of it, it might supply the
+lawyers with fees for forty years more after his death, for all he cared.
+It would have been very desirable to marry Mrs. Goddard if it had been
+possible, but since the thing could not be done at present it was best to
+submit with a good grace. Since the day when his suit had suddenly come
+to grief in the discovery of her real position, Mr. Juxon had
+philosophically said to himself that he had perhaps been premature in
+making his proposal, and that it was as well that it could not have been
+accepted; perhaps she would not have made him a good wife; perhaps he had
+deceived himself in thinking that because he liked her and desired her
+friendship he really wished to marry her; perhaps all was for the best in
+the best of all possible worlds, after all and in spite of all.
+
+But these reflections, which tended to soothe the squire's annoyance at
+the failure of a scheme which he had contemplated with so much delight,
+did not prevent him from feeling the most sincere sympathy for Mrs.
+Goddard, nor from constantly wishing that he could devise some plan for
+helping her. She seemed never to have thought of divorcing herself from
+her husband. The squire was not sure whether such a thing were possible;
+he doubted it, and promised himself that he would get a lawyer's opinion
+upon the matter. He believed that English law did not grant divorces on
+account of the husband's being sentenced to any limited period of penal
+servitude. But in any case it would be a very delicate subject to
+approach, and Mr. Juxon amused himself by constructing conversations in
+his mind which should lead up to this point without wounding poor Mrs.
+Goddard's sensibilities. He was the kindest of men; he would not for
+worlds have said a word which should recall to her that memorable day
+when she had told him her story. And yet it would be quite impossible to
+broach such a scheme without going at once into all the details of the
+chief cause of her sorrows. The consequence was that in the windings of
+his imagination the squire found himself perpetually turning in a vicious
+circle; but since the exercise concerned Mrs. Goddard and her welfare it
+was not uncongenial. He founded all his vague hopes upon one expression
+she had used. When in making his proposal he had spoken of her as being a
+widow, she had said, "Would to God that I were!" She had said it with
+such vehemence that he had felt sure that if she had indeed been a widow
+her answer to himself would have been favourable. Men easily retain such
+impressions received in moments of great excitement, and found hopes upon
+them.
+
+So the days had gone by and the squire had thought much but had come to
+no conclusion. On the morning when Walter Goddard crept into the disused
+vault at the back of the church, the squire awoke from his sleep at his
+usual early hour. He was not in a very good humour, if so equable a man
+could be said to be subject to such weaknesses as humours. The weather
+was very depressing--day after day brought only more rain, more wind,
+more mud, more of everything disagreeable. The previous evening had been
+unusually dull. He was never weary of being with Mary Goddard, but
+occasionally, when the Ambroses were present, the conversation became
+oppressive. Mr. Juxon almost wished that John Short would come back and
+cause a diversion. His views concerning John had undergone some change
+since he had discovered that nobody could marry Mrs. Goddard because she
+was married already. He believed he could watch John's efforts to attract
+her attention with indifference now, or if without indifference with a
+charitable forbearance. John at least would help to make conversation,
+and the conversation on the previous evening had been intolerably
+wearisome. Almost unconsciously, since the chief interest and hope of his
+daily life had been removed the squire began to long for a change; he
+had been a wanderer by profession during thirty years of his life and he
+was perhaps not yet old enough to settle into that absolute indifference
+to novelty which seems to characterise retired sailors.
+
+But as he brushed his smooth hair and combed his beard that morning,
+neither change nor excitement were very far from him. He looked over his
+dressing-glass at the leafless oaks of the park, at the grey sky and the
+driving rain and he wished something would happen. He wished somebody
+might die and leave a great library to be sold, that he might indulge
+his favourite passion; he wished he had somebody stopping in the Hall--he
+almost decided to send and ask the vicar to come to lunch and have a day
+among the books. As he entered the breakfast-room at precisely half-past
+eight o'clock, according to his wont, the butler informed him that Mr.
+Gall, the village constable, was below and wanted to see him after
+breakfast. He received the news in silence and sat down to eat his
+breakfast and read the morning paper. Gall had probably come about some
+petty summons, or to ask what he should do about the small boys who threw
+stones at the rooks and broke the church windows. After finishing his
+meal and his paper in the leisurely manner peculiar to country gentlemen
+who have nothing to do, the squire rang the bell, sent for the policeman
+and went into his study, a small room adjoining the library.
+
+Thomas Gall, constable, was a tall fair man with a mild eye and a
+cheerful face. Goodwill towards men and plentiful good living had done
+their work in eradicating from the good man all that stern element which
+might have been most useful to him in his career, not to say useful to
+the State. Each rolling year was pricked in his leathern belt with a new
+hole as his heart grew more peaceful and his body throve. He had a goodly
+girth and weighed full fifteen stone in his uniform; his mild blue eye
+had inspired confidence in a maiden of Billingsfield parish and Mrs. Gall
+was now rearing a numerous family of little Galls, all perhaps destined
+to become mild-eyed and portly village constables in their turn.
+
+The squire, who was not destitute of a sense of humour, never thought of
+Mr. Gall without a smile, so much out of keeping did the man's occupation
+seem with his jovial humour. Mr. Gall, he said, was the kind of policeman
+who would bribe a refractory tramp to move on by the present of a pint of
+beer. But Gall had a good point. He was very proud of his profession, and
+in the exercise of it he showed a discretion which, if it was the better
+part of his valour, argued unlimited natural courage. It was a secret
+profession, he was wont to say, and a man who could not keep a secret
+would never do for a constable. He shrouded his ways in an amiable
+mystery and walked a solitary beat on fine nights; when the nights were
+not fine there was nobody to see whether he walked his beat or not.
+Probably, he faithfully fulfilled his obligations; but his constitution
+seemed to bear exposure to the weather wonderfully well. Whether he ever
+saw anything worth mentioning upon those lonely walks of his, is
+uncertain; at all events he never mentioned anything he saw, unless it
+was in the secrecy of the reports he was supposed to transmit from time
+to time to his superiors.
+
+On the present occasion as he entered the study, the squire observed with
+surprise that he looked grave. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon
+before and argued that it was just possible that something of real
+importance might have occurred.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Gall, approaching the squire respectfully,
+after carefully closing the door behind him.
+
+"Good morning, Gall. Nothing wrong, I hope?"
+
+"Not yet, sir. I hope not, sir. Only a little matter of business, Mr.
+Juxon. In point of fact, sir, I wished to consult you."
+
+"Yes," said the squire who was used to the constable's method of
+circumlocution. "Yes--what is it?"
+
+"Well, sir--it's this," said the policeman, running his thumb round the
+inside of his belt as though to test the pressure, and clearing his
+throat. "There has been a general order sent down to be on the lookout,
+sir. So I thought it would be best to take your opinion."
+
+"My opinion," said the squire with great gravity, "is that if you are
+directed to be on the look-out, you should be on the look-out; by all
+means. What are you to be on the look-out for?"
+
+"In point of fact, sir," said the constable, lowering his voice, "we are
+informed that a criminal has escaped from Portland. I never heard of a
+convict getting out of that strong'old o' the law, sir, and I would like
+to have your opinion upon it."
+
+"But if you are informed that some one has escaped," remarked the squire,
+"you had better take it for granted that it is true."
+
+"Juss so, sir. But the circumstances wasn't communicated to us, sir; so
+we don't know."
+
+Mr. Gall paused, and the squire smoothed his hair a little.
+
+"Well, Gall," said Mr. Juxon, "have you any reason for believing that
+this escaped convict is likely to come this way?"
+
+"Well sir, there is some evidence," answered the policeman, mysteriously.
+"Leastways what seems like evidence to me, sir."
+
+"Of what kind?" the squire fixed his quiet eyes on Mr. Gall's face.
+
+"His name, sir. The name of the convict. There is a party of that name
+residin' here."
+
+The squire suddenly guessed what was coming, or at least a possibility of
+it crossed his mind. If Mr. Gall had been a more observant man he would
+have seen that Mr. Juxon grew a shade paler and changed one leg over the
+other as he sat. But in that moment he had time to nerve himself for the
+worst.
+
+"And what is the name, if you please?" he asked calmly.
+
+"The name in the general orders is Goddard, sir--Walter Goddard. He was
+convicted of forgery three years ago, sir, a regular bad lot. But
+discretion is recommended in the orders, sir, as the business is not
+wanted to get into the papers."
+
+The squire was ready. If Gall did not know that Mary Goddard was the wife
+of the convict Walter, he should certainly not find it out. In any other
+country of Europe that would have been the first fact communicated to the
+local police. Very likely, thought Mr. Juxon, nobody knew it.
+
+"I do not see," he said very slowly, "that the fact of there being a Mrs.
+Goddard residing here in the least proves that she is any relation to
+this criminal. The name is not so uncommon as that, you know."
+
+"Nor I either, sir. In point of fact, sir, I was only thinking. It's what
+you may call a striking coincidence, that's all."
+
+"It would have been a still more striking coincidence if his name had
+been Juxon like mine, or Ambrose like the vicar's," said the squire
+calmly. "There are other people of the name in England, and the local
+policemen will be warned to be on the lookout. If this fellow was called
+Juxon instead of Goddard, Gall, would you be inclined to think he was a
+relation of mine?"
+
+"Oh no, sir. Ha! ha! Very good sir! Very good indeed! No indeed, sir, and
+she such a real lady too!"
+
+"Well then, I do not see that you can do anything more than keep a sharp
+look-out. I suppose they sent you some kind of description?"
+
+"Well, yes. There was a kind of a description as you say, sir, but I'm
+not anyways sure of recognising the party by it. In point of fact, sir,
+the description says the convict is a fair man."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Neither particular tall, nor yet particular short, sir. Not a very big
+'un nor a very little 'un, sir. In point of fact, sir, a fair man. Clean
+shaved and close cropped he is, sir, being a criminal."
+
+"I hope you may recognise him by that account," said the squire,
+suppressing a smile. "I don't believe I should."
+
+"Well, sir, it does say as he's a fair man," remarked the constable.
+
+"Supposing he blacked his face and passed for a chimney-sweep?" suggested
+the squire. The idea seemed to unsettle Gall's views.
+
+"In that case, sir, I don't know as I should know him, for certain," he
+answered.
+
+"Probably not--probably not, Gall. And judging from the account they have
+sent you I don't think you would be to blame."
+
+"Leastways it can't be said as I've failed to carry out superior
+instructions," replied Mr. Gall, proudly. "Then it's your opinion, sir,
+that I'd better keep a sharp look-out? Did I understand you to say so,
+sir?"
+
+"Quite so," returned the squire with great calmness. "By all means keep a
+sharp look-out, and be careful to be discreet, as the orders instruct
+you."
+
+"You may trust me for that, sir," said the policeman, who dearly loved
+the idea of mysterious importance. "Then I wish you good morning, sir."
+He prepared to go.
+
+"Good morning, Gall--good morning. The butler will give you some ale."
+
+Again Mr. Gall passed his thumb round the inside of his belt, testing the
+local pressure in anticipation of a pint. He made a sort of half-military
+salute at the door and went out. When the squire was alone he rose from
+his chair and paced the room, giving way to the agitation he had
+concealed in the presence of the constable. He was very much disturbed at
+the news of Goddard's escape, as well he might be. Not that he was aware
+that the convict knew of his wife's whereabouts; he did not even suppose
+that Goddard could ascertain for some time where she was living, still
+less that he would boldly present himself in Billingsfield. But it was
+bad enough to know that the man was again at large. So long as he was
+safely lodged in prison, Mrs. Goddard was herself safe; but if once he
+regained his liberty and baffled the police he would certainly end by
+finding out Mary's address and there was no telling to what annoyance,
+to what danger, to what sufferings she might be exposed. Here was a new
+interest, indeed, and one which promised to afford the squire occupation
+until the fellow was caught.
+
+Mr. Juxon knew that he was right in putting the policeman off the track
+in regard to Mrs. Goddard. He himself was a better detective than Gall,
+for he went daily to the cottage and if anything was wrong there, was
+quite sure to discover it. If Goddard ever made his way to Billingsfield
+it could only be for the purpose of seeing his wife, and if he succeeded
+in this, Mrs. Goddard could not conceal it from the squire. She was a
+nervous woman who could not hide her emotions; she would find herself in
+a terrible difficulty and she would perhaps turn to her friend for
+assistance. If Mr. Juxon could lay his hands on Goddard, he flattered
+himself he was much more able to arrest a desperate man than mild-eyed
+Policeman Gall. He had not been at sea for thirty years in vain, and in
+his time he had handled many a rough customer. He debated however upon
+the course he should pursue. As in his opinion it was unlikely that
+Goddard would find out his wife for some time, and improbable that he
+would waste such precious time in looking for her, it seemed far from
+advisable to warn her that the felon had escaped. On the other hand he
+mistrusted his own judgment; if she were not prepared it was just
+possible that the man should come upon her unawares, and the shock of
+seeing him might be very much worse than the shock of being told that he
+was at large. He might consult the vicar.
+
+At first, the old feeling that it would be disloyal to Mrs. Goddard even
+to hint to Mr. Ambrose that he was acquainted with her story withheld him
+from pursuing such a course. But as he turned the matter over in his mind
+it seemed to him that since it was directly for her good, he would now be
+justified in speaking. He liked the vicar and he trusted him. He knew
+that the vicar had been a good friend to Mrs. Goddard and that he would
+stand by her in any difficulty so far as he might be able. The real
+question was how to make sure that the vicar should not tell his wife. If
+Mrs. Ambrose had the least suspicion that anything unusual was occurring,
+she would naturally try and extract information from her husband, and she
+would probably be successful; women, the squire thought, very generally
+succeed in operations of that kind. But if once Mr. Ambrose could be
+consulted without arousing his wife's suspicions, he was a man to be
+trusted. Thereupon Mr. Juxon wrote a note to the vicar, saying that he
+had something of great interest to show him, and begging that, if not
+otherwise engaged, he would come up to the Hall to lunch. When he had
+despatched his messenger, being a man of his word, he went into the
+library to hunt for some rare volume or manuscript which the vicar had
+not yet seen, and which might account in a spirit of rigid veracity for
+the excuse he had given. Meanwhile, as he turned over his rare and
+curious folios he debated further upon his conduct; but having once made
+up his mind to consult Mr. Ambrose, he determined to tell him boldly what
+had occurred, after receiving from him a promise of secrecy. The
+messenger brought back word that the vicar would be delighted to come,
+and at the hour named the sound of wheels upon the gravel announced the
+arrival of Strawberry, the old mare, drawing behind her the vicar and his
+aged henchman, Reynolds, in the traditional vicarage dogcart. A moment
+later the vicar entered the library.
+
+"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire inhospitable
+tones. "I have something to show you and I have something to say to you."
+The two shook hands heartily. Independently of kindred scholarly tastes,
+they were sympathetic to each other and were always glad to meet.
+
+"It is just the weather for bookworms," answered the vicar in cheerful
+tones. "Dear me, I never come here without envying you and wishing that
+life were one long rainy afternoon."
+
+"You know I am inclined to think I am rather an enviable person," said
+Mr. Juxon, slowly passing his hand over his glossy hair and leading his
+guest towards a large table near the fire. Several volumes lay together
+upon the polished mahogany. The squire laid his hand on one of them.
+
+"I have not deceived you," he said. "That is a very interesting volume.
+It is the black letter Paracelsus I once spoke of. I have succeeded in
+getting it at last."
+
+"Dear me! What a piece of fortune!" said Mr. Ambrose bending down until
+his formidable nose almost touched the ancient page.
+
+"Yes," said the squire, "uncommonly lucky as usual. Now, excuse my
+abruptness in changing the subject--I want to consult you upon an
+important matter."
+
+The vicar looked up quickly with that vague, faraway expression which
+comes into the eyes of a student when he is suddenly called away from
+contemplating some object of absorbing interest.
+
+"Certainly," he said, "certainly--a--by all means."
+
+"It is about Mrs. Goddard," said the squire, looking hard at his visitor.
+"Of course it is between ourselves," he added.
+
+The vicar's long upper lip descended upon its fellow and he bent his
+rough grey eyebrows, returning Mr. Juxon's sharp look with interest. He
+could not imagine what the squire could have to say about Mrs. Goddard,
+unless, like poor John, he had fallen in love with her and wanted to
+marry her; which appeared improbable.
+
+"What is it?" he said sharply.
+
+"I daresay you do not know that I am acquainted with her story," began
+Mr. Juxon. "Do not be surprised. She saw fit to tell it me herself."
+
+"Indeed?" exclaimed the vicar in considerable astonishment. In that case,
+he argued quickly, Mr. Juxon was not thinking of marrying her.
+
+"Yes--it is not necessary to go into that," said Mr. Juxon quickly. "The
+thing I want to tell you is this--Goddard the forger has escaped--"
+
+"Escaped?" echoed the vicar in real alarm. "You don't mean to say so!"
+
+"Gall the constable came here this morning," continued Mr. Juxon. "He
+told me that there were general orders out for his arrest."
+
+"How in the world did he get out?" cried the vicar. "I thought nobody was
+ever known to escape from Portland!"
+
+"So did I. But this fellow has--somehow. Gall did not know. Now, the
+question is, what is to be done?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know," returned the vicar, thrusting his hands into
+his pockets and marching to the window, the wide skirts of his coat
+seeming to wave with agitation as he walked.
+
+Mr. Juxon also put his hands into his pockets, but he stood still upon
+the hearth-rug and looked at the ceiling, softly whistling a little tune,
+a habit he had in moments of great anxiety. For three or four minutes
+neither of the two spoke.
+
+"Would you tell Mrs. Goddard--or not?" asked Mr. Juxon at last.
+
+"I don't know," said the vicar. "I am amazed beyond measure." He turned
+and slowly came back to the table.
+
+"I don't know either," replied the squire. "That is precisely the point
+upon which I think we ought to decide. I have known about the story for
+some time, but I did not anticipate that it would take this turn."
+
+"I think," said Mr. Ambrose after another pause, "I think that if there
+is any likelihood of the fellow finding her out, we ought to tell her. If
+not I think we had better wait until he is caught. He is sure to be
+caught, of course."
+
+"I entirely agree with you," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only--how on earth are
+we to find out whether he is likely to come here or not? If any one knows
+where he is, he is as good as caught already. If nobody knows, we can
+certainly have no means of telling."
+
+The argument was unanswerable. Again there was a long silence. The vicar
+walked about the room in great perplexity.
+
+"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible business!" he repeated, over and over
+again.
+
+"Do you think we are called upon to do anything?" he asked at last,
+stopping in his walk immediately in front of Mr. Juxon.
+
+"If we can do anything to save Mrs. Goddard from annoyance or further
+trouble, we are undoubtedly called upon to do it," replied the squire.
+"If that wretch finds her out, he will try to break into the cottage at
+night and force her to give him money."
+
+"Do you really think so? Dear me! I hope he will do no such thing!"
+
+"So do I, I am sure," said Mr. Juxon, with a grim smile. "But if he finds
+her out, he will. I almost think it would be better to tell her in any
+case."
+
+"But think of the anxiety she will be in until he is caught!" cried the
+vicar. "She will be expecting him every day--every night. Well--I suppose
+we might tell Gall to watch the house."
+
+"That will not do," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be a great injustice
+to allow Gall or any of the people in the village to know anything about
+her. She might be subjected to all kinds of insult. You know what these
+people are. A 'real lady,' who is at the same time the wife of a convict,
+is a thing they can hardly understand. I am sure both you and I secretly
+flatter ourselves that we have shown an unusual amount of good sense and
+generosity in understanding her position as we do."
+
+"I daresay we do," said the vicar with a smile. He was too honest to deny
+it. "Indeed it took me some time to get used to the idea myself."
+
+"Precisely. The village people would never get used to it. Of all things
+to do, we should certainly not tell Gall, who is an old woman and a great
+chatterbox. I wish you could have heard his statement this morning--it
+filled me with admiration for the local police, I assure you. But--I
+think it would be better to tell her. I did not think so before you came,
+I believe. But talking always brings the truth out."
+
+The vicar hesitated, rising and falling upon his toes and heels in
+profound thought, after his manner.
+
+"I daresay you are right," he said at last. "Will you do it? Or shall I?"
+
+"I would rather not," said the squire, thoughtfully. "You know her
+better, you have known her much longer than I."
+
+"But she will ask me where I heard of it," objected the vicar. "I shall
+be obliged to say that you told me. That will be as bad as though you
+told her yourself."
+
+"You need not say you heard it from me. You can say that Gall has
+received instructions to look out for Goddard. She will not question you
+any further, I am sure."
+
+"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Juxon," said the vicar.
+
+"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire,
+almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little.
+
+"Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose.
+
+"Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter,
+you see."
+
+"Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!"
+
+"Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done."
+
+"Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that
+his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office.
+
+"Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have
+the matter decided.
+
+"Why not go together?" suggested the vicar.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the
+poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs.
+Ambrose--"
+
+"Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile.
+
+"Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did,
+and was very much surprised at the result.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the
+cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be
+of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they
+had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter
+Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare
+volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host
+believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting
+to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either.
+
+The weather had suddenly changed; the east was already clear and over the
+west, where the sun was setting in a fiery mist, the huge clouds were
+banked up against the bright sky, fringed with red and purple, but no
+longer threatening rain or snow. The air was sharp and the plentiful mud
+in the roads was already crusted with a brittle casing of ice.
+
+The squire took leave of Mr. Ambrose at the turning where the road led
+into the village and then walked back to the cottage. Even his solid
+nerves were a little unsettled at the prospect of the interview
+before him; but he kept a stout heart and asked for Mrs. Goddard in his
+usual quiet voice. Martha told him that Mrs. Goddard had a bad headache,
+but on inquiry found that she would see the squire. He entered the
+drawing-room softly and went forward to greet her; she was sitting in a
+deep chair propped by cushions.
+
+Mary Goddard had spent a miserable day. The grey morning light seemed to
+reveal her troubles and fears in a new and more terrible aspect. During
+the long hours of darkness it seemed as though those things were
+mercifully hidden which the strong glare of day must inevitably reveal,
+and when the night was fairly past she thought all the world must surely
+know that Walter Goddard had escaped and that his wife had seen him.
+Hourly she expected a ringing at the bell, announcing the visit of a
+party of detectives on his track; every sound startled her and her nerves
+were strung to such a pitch that she heard with supernatural acuteness.
+She had indeed two separate causes for fear. The one was due to her
+anxiety for Goddard's safety; the other to her apprehensions for Nellie.
+She had long determined that at all hazards the child must be kept from
+the knowledge of her father's disgrace, by being made to believe in his
+death. It was a falsehood indeed, but such a falsehood as may surely be
+forgiven to a woman as unhappy as Mary Goddard. It seemed monstrous that
+the innocent child, who seemed not even to have inherited her father's
+looks or temper, should be brought up with the perpetual sense of her
+disgrace before her, should be forced to listen to explanations of her
+father's crimes and tutored to the comprehension of an inherited shame.
+From the first Mary Goddard had concealed the whole matter from the
+little girl, and when Walter was at last convicted, she had told her that
+her father was dead. Dead he might be, she thought, before twelve years
+were out, and Nellie would be none the wiser. In twelve years from the
+time of his conviction Nellie would be in her twenty-first year; if it
+were ever necessary to tell her, it would be time enough then, for the
+girl would have at least enjoyed her youth, free of care and of the
+horrible consciousness of a great crime hanging over her head. No child
+could grow up in such a state as that implied. No mind could develop
+healthily under the perpetual pressure of so hideous a secret; from her
+earliest childhood her impressions would be warped, her imagination
+darkened and her mental growth stunted. It would be a great cruelty to
+tell her the truth; it was a great mercy to tell her the falsehood. It
+was no selfish timidity which had prompted Mary Goddard, but a carefully
+weighed consideration for the welfare of her child.
+
+If now, within these twenty-four hours, Nellie should discover who the
+poor tramp was, who had frightened her so much on the previous evening,
+all this would be at an end. The child's life would be made desolate for
+ever. She would never recover from the shock, and to injure lovely Nellie
+so bitterly would be worse to Mary Goddard than to be obliged to bear the
+sharpest suffering herself. For, from the day when she had waked to a
+comprehension of her husband's baseness, the love for her child had taken
+in her breast the place of the love for Walter.
+
+She did not think connectedly; she did not realise her fears; she was
+almost wholly unstrung. But she had procured the fifty pounds her husband
+required and she waited for the night with a dull hope that all might yet
+be well--as well as anything so horrible could be. If only her husband
+were not caught in Billingsfield it would not be so bad, perhaps. And yet
+it may be that her wisest course would have been to betray him that very
+night. Many just men would have said so; but there are few women who
+would do it. There are few indeed, so stonyhearted as to betray a man
+once loved in such a case; and Mary Goddard in her wildest fear never
+dreamed of giving up the fugitive. She sat all day in her chair, wishing
+that the day were over, praying that she might be spared any further
+suffering or that at least it might be spared to her child whom she so
+loved. She had sent Nellie down to the vicarage with Martha. Mrs. Ambrose
+loved Nellie better than she loved Nellie's mother, and there was a
+standing invitation for her to spend the afternoons at the vicarage.
+Nellie said her mother had a terrible headache and wanted to be alone.
+
+But when the squire came Mrs. Goddard thought it wiser to see him. She
+had, of course, no intention of confiding to him an account of the events
+of the previous night, but she felt that if she could talk to him for
+half an hour she would be stronger. He was himself so strong and honest
+that he inspired her with courage. She knew, also, that if she were
+driven to the extremity of confiding in any one she would choose Mr.
+Juxon rather than Mr. Ambrose. The vicar had been her first friend and
+she owed him much; but the squire had won her confidence by his noble
+generosity after she had told him her story. She said to herself that he
+was more of a man than the vicar. And now he had come to her at the time
+of her greatest distress, and she was glad to see him.
+
+Mr. Juxon entered the room softly, feeling that he was in the presence of
+a sick person. Mrs. Goddard turned her pathetic face towards him and held
+out her hand.
+
+"I am so glad to see you," she said, trying to seem cheerful.
+
+"I fear you are ill, Mrs. Goddard," answered the squire, looking at her
+anxiously and then seating himself by her side. "Martha told me you had a
+headache--I hope it is not serious."
+
+"Oh no--not serious. Only a headache," she said with a smile so unlike
+her own that Mr. Juxon began to feel nervous. His resolution to tell her
+his errand began to waver; it seemed cruel, he thought, to disturb a
+person who was evidently so ill with a matter so serious. He remembered
+that she had almost fainted on a previous occasion when she had spoken to
+him of her husband. She had not been ill then; there was no knowing what
+the effect of a shock to her nerves might be at present. He sat still in
+silence for some moments, twisting his hat upon his knee.
+
+"Do not be disturbed about me," said Mrs. Goddard presently. "It will
+pass very quickly. I shall be quite well to-morrow--I hope," she added
+with a shudder.
+
+"I am very much disturbed about you," returned Mr. Juxon in an unusually
+grave tone. Mrs. Goddard looked at him quickly, and was surprised when
+she saw the expression on his face. He looked sad, and at the same time
+perplexed.
+
+"Oh, pray don't be!" she exclaimed as though deprecating further remark
+upon her ill health.
+
+"I wish I knew," said the squire with some hesitation, "whether--whether
+you are really very ill. I mean, of course, I know you have a bad
+headache, a very bad headache, as I can see. But--indeed, Mrs. Goddard, I
+have something of importance to say."
+
+"Something of importance?" she repeated, staring hard at him.
+
+"Yes--but it will keep till to-morrow, if you would rather not hear it
+now," he replied, looking at her doubtfully.
+
+"I would rather hear it now," she answered after some seconds of silence.
+Her heart beat fast.
+
+"You were good enough some time ago to tell me about--Mr. Goddard," began
+Mr. Juxon in woeful trepidation.
+
+"Yes," answered his companion under her breath. Her hands were clasped
+tightly together upon her knees and her eyes sought the squire's
+anxiously and then looked away again in fear.
+
+"Well, it is about him," continued Mr. Juxon in a gentle voice. "Would
+you rather put it off? It is--well, rather startling."
+
+Mrs. Goddard closed her eyes, like a person expecting to suffer some
+terrible pain. She thought Mr. Juxon was going to tell her that Walter
+had been captured in the village.
+
+"Mr. Goddard has escaped," said the squire, making a bold plunge with the
+whole truth. The sick lady trembled violently, and unclasping her hands
+laid them upon the arms of her chair as though to steady herself to bear
+the worse shock to come. But Mr. Juxon was silent. He had told her all he
+knew.
+
+"Yes," she said faintly. "Is there anything--anything more?" Her voice
+was barely audible in the still and dusky room.
+
+"No--except that, of course, there are orders out for his arrest, all
+over the country."
+
+"He has not been arrested yet?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She had expected to
+hear that he was caught; she thought the squire was trying to break the
+shock of the news. Her courage rose a little now.
+
+"No, he is not arrested--but I have no doubt he soon will be," added Mr.
+Juxon in a tone intended to convey encouragement.
+
+"How did you hear this?"
+
+"Gall the policeman, told me this morning. I--I am afraid I have
+something else to confess to you, Mrs. Goddard, I trust you will not--"
+
+"What?" she asked so suddenly as to startle him. Walter might have been
+heard of in the neighbourhood, perhaps.
+
+"I think I was right," continued Mr. Juxon. "I hope you will forgive me.
+It does not seem quite loyal, but I did not know what to do. I consulted
+the vicar as to whether we should tell you."
+
+"The vicar? What did he say?" Again Mrs. Goddard felt relieved.
+
+"He quite agreed with me," answered the squire. "You see we feared that
+Mr. Goddard might find his way here and come upon you suddenly. We
+thought you would be terribly pained and startled."
+
+Mrs. Goddard could almost have laughed at that moment. The excellent man
+had taken all this trouble in order to save her from the very thing which
+had already occurred on the previous night. There was a bitter humour in
+the situation, in the squire's kind-hearted way of breaking to her that
+news which she already knew so well, in his willingness to put off
+telling her until the morrow. What would Mr. Juxon say, could he guess
+that she had herself already spoken with her husband and had promised to
+see him again that very night! Forgetting that his last words required an
+answer, she leaned back in her chair and again folded her hands before
+her. Her eyes were half closed and from beneath the drooping lids she
+gazed through the gathering gloom at the squire's anxious face.
+
+"I hope you think I did right," said the latter in considerable doubt.
+
+"Quite right. I think you were both very kind to think of me as you did,"
+said she.
+
+"I am sure, I always think of you," answered Mr. Juxon simply. "I hope
+that this thing will have no further consequences. Of course, until we
+know of Mr. Goddard's whereabouts we shall feel very anxious. It seems
+probable that if he can get here unobserved he will do so. He will
+probably ask you for some money."
+
+"Do you really think he could get here at all?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She
+wanted to hear what he would say, for she thought she might judge from
+his words whether her husband ran any great risk.
+
+"Oh no," replied the squire. "I think it is very improbable. I fear this
+news has sadly disturbed you, Mrs. Goddard, but let us hope all may turn
+out for the best." Indeed he thought she showed very little surprise,
+though she had evidently been much moved. Perhaps she had been accustomed
+to expect that her husband might one day escape. She was ill, too, and
+her nerves were unstrung, he supposed.
+
+She had really passed through a very violent emotion, but it had not been
+caused by her surprise, but by her momentary fear for the fugitive,
+instantly allayed by Mr. Juxon's explanation. She felt that for to-day at
+least Walter was safe, and by to-morrow he would be safe out of the
+neighbourhood. But she reflected that it was necessary to say something;
+that if she appeared to receive the news too indifferently the squire's
+suspicions might be aroused with fatal results.
+
+"It is a terrible thing," she said presently. "You see I am not at all
+myself."
+
+It was not easy for her to act a part. The words were commonplace.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon, "I see you are not." He on his part, instead of
+looking for a stronger expression of fear or astonishment, was now only
+too glad that she should be so calm.
+
+"Would you advise me to do anything?" she asked presently.
+
+"There is nothing to be done," he answered quickly, glad of a chance to
+relieve the embarrassment of the situation. "Of course we might put you
+under the protection of the police but--what is the matter, Mrs.
+Goddard?" She had started as though in pain.
+
+"Only this dreadful headache," she said. "Go on please."
+
+"Well, we might set Gall the policeman to watch your house; but that
+would be very unpleasant for you. It would be like telling him and all
+the village people of your situation--"
+
+"Oh don't! Please don't!"
+
+"No, certainly not. I think it very unwise. Besides--" he stopped short.
+He was about to say that he felt much better able to watch over Mrs.
+Goddard himself than Gall the constable could possibly be; but he checked
+himself in time.
+
+"Besides--what?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing--Gall is not much of a policeman, that is all. I do not believe
+you would be any the safer for his protection. But you must promise me,
+my dear Mrs. Goddard, that if anything occurs you will let me know. I may
+be of some assistance."
+
+"Thank you, so much," said she. "You are always so kind!"
+
+"Not at all. I am very glad if you think I was right to tell you about
+it."
+
+"Oh, quite right," she answered. "And now, Mr. Juxon, I am really not at
+all well. All this has quite unnerved me--"
+
+"You want me to go?" said the squire smiling kindly as he rose. "Yes, I
+understand. Well, good-bye, my dear friend--I hope everything will
+clear up."
+
+"Good-bye. Thank you again. You always do understand me," she answered
+giving him her small cold hand. "Don't think me ungrateful," she added,
+looking up into his eyes.
+
+"No indeed--not that there is anything to be grateful for."
+
+In a moment more he was gone, feeling that he had done his duty like a
+man, and that it had not been so hard after all. He was glad it was done,
+however, and he felt that he could face the vicar with a bold front at
+their next meeting. He went quickly down the path and crossed the road to
+his own gate with a light step. As he entered the park he was not aware
+of a wretched-looking tramp who slouched along the quickset hedge and
+watched his retreating figure far up the avenue, till he was out of sight
+among the leafless trees. If Stamboul had been with the squire the tramp
+would certainly not have passed unnoticed; but for some days the roads
+had been so muddy that Stamboul had been left behind when Mr. Juxon made
+his visits to the cottage, lest the great hound should track the mud into
+the spotless precincts of the passage. The tramp stood still and looked
+after the squire so long as he could see him, and then slunk off across
+the wet meadows, where the standing water was now skimmed with ice.
+
+Walter Goddard had spent the day in watching for the squire and he had
+seen him at last. He had seen him go down the road with the vicar till
+they were both out of sight, and he had seen him come back and enter the
+cottage. This proceeding, he argued, betrayed that the squire did not
+wish to be seen going into Mary's house by the vicar. The tortuous
+intelligences of bad men easily impute to others courses which they
+themselves would naturally pursue. Three words on the previous evening
+had sufficed to rouse the convict's jealousy. What he saw to-day
+confirmed his suspicions. The gentleman in knickerbockers could be no
+other than the squire himself, of course. He was evidently in the habit
+of visiting Mary Goddard and he did not wish his visits to be observed by
+the clergyman, who was of course the vicar or rector of the parish. That
+proved conclusively in the fugitive's mind that there was something
+wrong. He ground his teeth together and said to himself that it would be
+worth while to run some risk in order to stop that little game, as he
+expressed it. He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered
+one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he
+had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be
+caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex. It would be a great
+satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther.
+Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at
+the back of the church. He discovered loose stones inside the place which
+he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance.
+Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very
+existence of the vault was most likely forgotten. It was not a cheerful
+place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach
+of supernatural fears. Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the
+future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present. The vault
+was comparatively dry and was in every way preferable, as a resting-place
+for one night, to the interior of a mouldy haystack in the open fields.
+He did not dare show himself again at the "Feathers" inn, lest he should
+be held to do the day's work he had promised in payment for his night in
+the barn. All that morning and afternoon he had lain hidden in the
+quickset hedge near the park gate, within sight of the cottage, and he
+had been rewarded. The food he had taken with him the night before had
+sufficed him and he had quenched his thirst with rain-water from the
+ditch. Having seen that the squire went back towards the Hall, Goddard
+slunk away to his hiding-place to wait for the night. He lay down as best
+he might, and listened for the hours and half-hours as the church clock
+tolled them out from the lofty tower above.
+
+Mary Goddard had told him to come later than before, and it was after
+half-past ten when he tapped upon the shutter of the little drawing-room.
+All was dark within, and he held his breath as he stood among the wet
+creepers, listening intently for the sound of his wife's coming.
+Presently the glass window inside was opened.
+
+"Is that you?" asked Mary's voice in a tremulous whisper.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "Let me in." Then the shutter was cautiously
+unfastened and opened a little and in the dim starlight Goddard
+recognised his wife's pale face. Her hand went out to him, with something
+in it.
+
+"There is the money," she whispered. "Go as quickly as you can. They are
+looking for you--there are orders out to arrest you."
+
+Goddard seized her fingers and took the money. She would have withdrawn
+her hand but he held it firmly.
+
+"Who told you that they were after me?" he asked in a fierce whisper.
+
+"Mr. Juxon--let me go."
+
+"Mr. Juxon!" The convict uttered a rough oath. "Your friend Mr. Juxon,
+eh? He is after me, is he? Tell him--"
+
+"Hush, hush!" she whispered. "He has no idea you are here--"
+
+"I should think not," muttered Walter. "He would not be sneaking in here
+on the sly to see you if he knew I were about!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Mary. "Oh, Walter, let me go--you hurt me so!"
+He held her fingers as in a vice.
+
+"Hurt you! I wish I could strangle you and him too! Ha, you thought I was
+not looking this afternoon when he came! He went to the corner of the
+road with the parson, and when the parson was out of sight he came back!
+I saw you!"
+
+"You saw nothing!" answered his wife desperately. "How can you say so! If
+you knew how kind he has been, what a loyal gentleman he is, you would
+not dare to say such things."
+
+"You used to say I was a loyal gentleman, Mary," retorted the convict. "I
+daresay he is of the same stamp as I. Look here, Mary, if I catch this
+loyal gentleman coming here any more I will cut his throat--so look out!"
+
+"You do not mean to say you are going to remain here any longer, in
+danger of your life?" said Mary in great alarm.
+
+"Well--a man can only hang once. Give me some more of that bread and
+cheese, Mary. It was exceedingly good."
+
+"Then let me go," said his wife, trembling with horror at the threat she
+had just heard.
+
+"Oh yes. I will let you go. But I will just hold the window open in case
+you don't come back soon enough. Look sharp!"
+
+There was no need to hurry the unfortunate woman. In less than three
+minutes she returned, bringing a "quartern" loaf and a large piece of
+cheese. She thrust them out upon the window-sill and withdrew her hand
+before he could catch it. But he held the window open.
+
+"Now go!" she said. "I cannot do more for you--for God's sake go!"
+
+"You seem very anxious to see the last of me," he whispered. "I daresay
+if I am hanged you will get a ticket to see me turned off. Yes--we
+mention those things rather freely up in town. Don't be alarmed. I will
+come back to-morrow night--you had better listen. If you had shown a
+little more heart, I would have been satisfied, but you are so stony that
+I think I would like another fifty pounds to-morrow night. Those notes
+are so deliciously crisp--"
+
+"Listen, Walter!" said Mary. "Unless you promise to go I will raise an
+alarm at once. I can face shame again well enough. I will have you--hush!
+For God's sake--hush! There is somebody coming!"
+
+The convict's quick ear had caught the sound. Instantly he knelt and then
+lay down at full length upon the ground below the window. It was a fine
+night and the conscientious Mr. Gall was walking his beat. The steady
+tramp of his heavy shoes had something ominous in it which struck terror
+into the heart of the wretched fugitive. With measured tread he came from
+the direction of the village. Reaching the cottage he paused and dimly in
+the starlight Mrs. Goddard could distinguish his glazed hat--the
+provincial constabulary still wore hats in those days. Mr. Gall stood not
+fifteen yards from the cottage, failed to observe that a window was
+open on the lower floor, nodded to himself as though satisfied with his
+inspection and walked on. Little by little the sound of his steps grew
+fainter in the distance. Walter slowly raised himself again from the
+ground, and put his head in at the window.
+
+"You see it would not be hard to have you caught," whispered his wife,
+still breathless with the passing excitement. "That was the policeman. If
+I had called him, it would have been all over with you. I tell you if you
+try to come again I will give you up."
+
+"Oh, that's the way you treat me, is it?" said the convict with another
+oath. "Then you had better look out for your dear Mr. Juxon, that's all."
+
+Without another word, Goddard glided away from the window, let himself
+out by the wicket gate and disappeared across the road.
+
+Mary Goddard was in that moment less horrified by her husband's threat
+than by his base ingratitude to herself and by the accusation he seemed
+to make against her. Worn out with the emotions of fear and anxiety, she
+had barely the strength to close and fasten the window. Then she sank
+into the first chair she could find in the dark and stared into the
+blackness around her. It seemed indeed more than she could bear. She was
+placed in the terrible position of being obliged to betray her fugitive
+husband, or of living in constant fear lest he should murder the best
+friend she had in the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+On the morning after the events last described Mr. Ambrose sat at
+breakfast opposite his wife. The early post had just arrived, bringing
+the usual newspaper and two letters.
+
+"Any news, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with great suavity, as she
+rinsed her teacup in the bowl preparatory to repeating the dose. "Is not
+it time that we should hear from John?"
+
+"There is a letter from him, strange to say. Wait a minute--my dear, the
+Tripos is over and he wants to know if he may stop here--"
+
+"The Tripos over already! How has he done? Do tell me, Augustin!"
+
+"He does not know," returned the vicar, quickly looking over the
+contents of the letter. "The lists are not out--he thinks he has done
+very well--he has had a hint that he is high up--wants to know whether he
+may stop on his way to London--he is going to see his father--"
+
+"Of course he shall come," said Mrs. Ambrose with enthusiasm. "He must
+stop here till the lists are published and then we shall know--anything
+else?"
+
+"The other is a note from a tutor of his side--my old friend Brown--he is
+very enthusiastic; says it is an open secret that John will be at the
+head of the list--begins to congratulate. Well, my dear, this is very
+satisfactory, very flattering."
+
+"One might say very delightful, Augustin."
+
+"Delightful, yes quite delightful," replied the vicar, burying his long
+nose in his teacup.
+
+"I only hope it may be true. I was afraid that perhaps John had done
+himself harm by coming here at Christmas. Young men are so very
+light-headed, are they not, Augustin?" added Mrs. Ambrose with a prim
+smile. On rare occasions she had alluded to John's unfortunate passion
+for Mrs. Goddard, and when she spoke of the subject she had a tendency to
+assume something of the stiffness she affected towards strangers. As has
+been seen she had ceased to blame Mrs. Goddard. Generally speaking the
+absent are in the wrong in such matters; she could not refer to John's
+conduct without a touch of severity. But the Reverend Augustin bent his
+shaggy brows; John was now successful, probably senior classic--it was
+evidently no time to censure his behaviour.
+
+"You must be charitable, my dear," he said, looking sharply at his wife.
+"We have all been young once you know."
+
+"Augustin, I am surprised at you!" said Mrs. Ambrose sternly.
+
+"For saying that I once was young?" inquired her husband. "Strange and
+paradoxical as such a statement must appear, I was once a baby."
+
+"I think your merriment very unseemly," objected Mrs. Ambrose in a tone
+of censure. "Because you were once a baby it does not follow that you
+ever acted in such a very foolish way about a--"
+
+"My dear," interrupted the vicar, handing his cup across the table, "I
+wish you would leave John alone, and give me another cup of tea. John
+will be here to-morrow. Let us receive him as we should. He has done us
+credit."
+
+"He will never be received otherwise in this house, Augustin," replied
+Mrs. Ambrose, "whether you allow me to speak my mind or not. I am aware
+that Short has done us credit, as you express it. I only hope he always
+may do us credit in the future. I am sure, I was like a mother to him. He
+ought never to forget it. Why, my dear, cannot you remember how I always
+had his buttons looked to and gave him globules when he wanted them? I
+think he might show some gratitude."
+
+"I do not think he has failed to show it," retorted the vicar.
+
+"Oh, well, Augustin, if you are going to talk like that it is not
+possible to argue with you; but he shall be welcome, if he comes. I hope,
+however, that he will not go to the cottage--"
+
+"My dear, I have a funeral this morning. I wish you would not disturb my
+mind with these trifles."
+
+"Trifles! Who is dead? You did not tell me."
+
+"Poor Judd's baby, of course. We have spoken of it often enough, I am
+sure."
+
+"Oh yes, of course. Poor Tom Judd!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambrose with genuine
+sympathy. "It seems to me you are always burying his babies, Augustin!
+It is very sad."
+
+"Not always, my dear. Frequently," said the vicar correcting her. "It is
+very sad, as you say. Very sad. You took so much trouble to help them
+this time, too."
+
+"Trouble!" Mrs. Ambrose cast up her eyes. "You don't know how much
+trouble. But I am quite sure it was the fault of that brazen-faced
+doctor. I cannot bear the sight of him! That comes of answering
+advertisements in the newspapers."
+
+The present doctor had bought the practice abandoned by Mrs. Ambrose's
+son-in-law. He had paid well for it, but his religious principles had not
+formed a part of the bargain.
+
+"It is of no use to cry over spilt milk, my dear."
+
+"I do not mean to. No, I never do. But it is very unpleasant to have such
+people about. I really hope Tom Judd will not lose his next baby. When
+is John coming?"
+
+"To-morrow. My dear, if I forget it this morning, will you remember to
+speak to Reynolds about the calf?"
+
+"Certainly, Augustin," said his wife. Therewith the good vicar left her
+and went to bury Tom Judd's baby, divided in his mind between rejoicing
+over his favourite pupil's success and lamenting, as he sincerely did,
+the misfortunes which befell his parishioners. When he left the
+churchyard an hour later he was met by Martha, who came from the cottage
+with a message begging that the vicar would come to Mrs. Goddard as soon
+as possible. Martha believed her mistress was ill, she wanted to see Mr.
+Ambrose at once. Without returning to the vicarage he turned to the left
+towards the cottage.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had slept that night, being exhausted and almost broken down
+with fatigue. But she woke only to a sense of the utmost pain and
+distress, realising that to-day's anxiety was harder to bear than
+yesterday's, and that to-morrow might bring forth even worse disasters
+than those which had gone before. Her position was one of extreme doubt
+and peril. To tell any one that her husband was in the neighbourhood
+seemed to be equivalent to rooting out the very last remnant of
+consideration for him which remained in her heart, the very last trace of
+what had once been the chief joy and delight of her life. She hesitated
+long. There is perhaps nothing in human nature more enduring than the
+love of man and wife; or perhaps one should rather say than the love of a
+woman for her husband. There appear to be some men capable of being so
+completely estranged from their wives that there positively does not
+remain in them even the faintest recollection of what they have once
+felt, nor the possibility of feeling the least pity for what the women
+they once loved so well may suffer. There is no woman, I believe, who
+having once loved her husband truly, could see him in pain or distress,
+or in danger of his life, without earnestly endeavouring to help him. A
+woman may cease to love her husband; in some cases she is right in
+forgetting her love, but it would be hard to find a case where, were he
+the worst criminal alive, had he deceived her a thousand times, she would
+not at least help him to escape from his pursuers or give him a crust to
+save him from starvation.
+
+Mary Goddard had done her best for the wretch who had claimed her
+assistance. She had fed him, provided him with money, refused to betray
+him. But if it were to be a question of giving him up to the law, or of
+allowing her best friend to be murdered by him, or even seriously
+injured, she felt that pity must be at an end. It would be doubtless a
+very horrible thing to give him up, and she had gathered from what he had
+said that if he were taken he would pay the last penalty of the law. It
+was so awful a thing that she groaned when she thought of it. But she
+remembered his ghastly face in the starlight and the threat he had hissed
+out against the squire; he was a desperate man, with blood already on his
+hands. It was more than likely that he would do the deed he had
+threatened to do. What could be easier than to watch the squire on one of
+those evenings when he went up the park alone, to fall upon him and take
+his life? Of late Mr. Juxon did not even take his dog with him. The
+savage bloodhound would be a good protector; but even when he took
+Stamboul with him by day, he never brought him at night. It was too long
+for the beast to wait, he used to say, from six to nine or half past; he
+was so savage that he did not care to leave him out of his sight; he
+brought mud into the cottage, or into the vicarage as the case might
+be--if Stamboul had been an ordinary dog it would have been different.
+Those Russian bloodhounds were not to be trifled with. But the squire
+must be warned of his danger before another night came on.
+
+It was a difficult question. Mrs. Goddard at first thought of telling him
+herself; but she shrank from the thought, for she was exhausted and
+overwrought. A few days ago she would have been brave enough to say
+anything if necessary, but now she had no longer the courage nor the
+strength. It seemed so hard to face the squire with such a warning; it
+seemed as though she were doing something which would make her seem
+ungrateful in his eyes, though she hardly knew why it seemed so. She
+turned more naturally to the vicar, to whom she had originally come in
+her first great distress; she had only once consulted him, but that one
+occasion seemed to establish a precedent in her mind, the precedent of a
+thing familiar. It would certainly be easier. After much thought and
+inward debate, she determined to send for Mr. Ambrose.
+
+The fatigue and anxiety she had undergone during the last two days had
+wrought great changes in her face. A girl of eighteen or twenty years may
+gain delicacy and even beauty from the physical effects of grief, but a
+woman over thirty years old gains neither. Mrs. Goddard's complexion,
+naturally pale, had taken a livid hue; her lips, which were never very
+red, were almost white; heavy purple shadows darkened her eyes; the two
+or three lines that were hardly noticeable, but which were the natural
+result of a sad expression in her face, had in two days become distinctly
+visible and had almost assumed the proportions of veritable wrinkles. Her
+features were drawn and pinched--she looked ten years older than she was.
+Nothing remained of her beauty but her soft waving brown hair and her
+deep, pathetic, violet eyes. Even her small hands seemed to have grown
+thin and looked unnaturally white and transparent.
+
+She was sitting in her favourite chair by the fire, when the vicar
+arrived. She had not been willing to seem ill, in spite of what Martha
+had said, and she had refused to put cushions in the chair. She was
+making an effort, and even a little sense of physical discomfort helped
+to make the effort seem easier. She was so much exhausted that she felt
+she must not for one moment relax the tension she imposed upon herself
+lest her whole remaining strength should suddenly collapse and leave her
+at the mercy of events. But Mr. Ambrose was startled when he saw her and
+feared that she was very ill.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Goddard," he said, "what is the matter? Are you ill? Has
+anything happened?"
+
+As he spoke he changed the form of his question, suddenly recollecting
+that Mr. Juxon had probably on the previous afternoon told her of her
+husband's escape, as he had meant to do. This might be the cause of her
+indisposition.
+
+"Yes," she said in a voice that did not sound like her own, "I have asked
+you to come because I am in great trouble--in desperate trouble."
+
+"Dear me," said the vicar, "I hope not!"
+
+"Not desperate? Perhaps not. Dear Mr. Ambrose, you have always been so
+kind to me--I am sure you can help me now." Her voice trembled.
+
+"Indeed I will do my best," said the vicar who judged from so unusual an
+outburst that there must be really something wrong. "If you could tell me
+what it is--" he suggested.
+
+"That is the hardest part of it," said the unhappy woman. She paused a
+moment as though to collect her strength. "You know," she began again,
+"that my husband has escaped?"
+
+"A terrible business!" exclaimed the good man, nodding, however, in
+affirmation to the question she asked.
+
+"I have seen him," said Mary Goddard very faintly, looking down at her
+thin hands. The vicar started in astonishment.
+
+"My dear friend--dear me! Dear, dear, how very painful!"
+
+"Indeed, you do not know what I have suffered. It is most dreadful, Mr.
+Ambrose. You cannot imagine what a struggle it was. I am quite worn out."
+
+She spoke with such evident pain that the vicar was moved. He felt that
+she had more to tell, but he had hardly recovered from his surprise.
+
+"But, you know," he said, "that was the whole object of warning you. We
+did not really believe that he would come here. We were so much afraid
+that he would startle you. Of course Mr. Juxon told you he consulted
+me--"
+
+"Of course," answered Mrs. Goddard. "It was too late. I had seen him the
+night before."
+
+"Why, that was the very night we were here!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, more
+and more amazed. Mrs. Goddard nodded. She seemed hardly able to speak.
+
+"He came and knocked at that window," she said, very faintly. "He came
+again last night."
+
+"Dear me--I will send for Gall at once; he will have no difficulty in
+arresting him--"
+
+"Oh please!" interrupted Mrs. Goddard in hysterical tones. "Please,
+please, dear Mr. Ambrose, don't!"
+
+The vicar was silent. He rose unceremoniously from his chair and walked
+to the window, as he generally did when in any great doubt. He realised
+at once and very vividly the awful position in which the poor lady was
+placed.
+
+"Pray do not think I am very bad," said she, almost sobbing with fear and
+emotion. "Of course it must seem dreadful to you that I should wish him
+to escape!"
+
+The vicar came slowly back and stood beside her leaning against the
+chimney-piece. It did not take him long to make up his mind. Kind-hearted
+people are generally impulsive.
+
+"I do not, my dear lady. I assure you I fully understand your position.
+The fact is, I was too much surprised and I am too anxious for your
+safety not to think immediately of securing that--ahem--that unfortunate
+man."
+
+"Oh, it is not my safety! It is not only my safety--"
+
+"I understand--yes--of course you are anxious about him. But it is
+doubtless not our business to aid the law in its course, provided we do
+not oppose it."
+
+"It is something else," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "Oh! how shall I tell
+you," she moaned turning her pale cheek to the back of the chair.
+
+The vicar looked at her and began to think it was perhaps some strange
+case of conscience with which he had to deal. He had very little
+experience of such things save in the rude form they take among the
+labouring classes. But he reflected that it was likely to be something of
+the kind; in such a case Mrs. Goddard would naturally enough have sent
+for him, more as her clergyman than as her friend. She looked like a
+person suffering from some great mental strain. He sat down beside her
+and took her passive hand. He was moved, and felt as though he might have
+been her father.
+
+"My dear," he said kindly, almost as though he were speaking to a child,
+"have you anything upon your mind, anything which distresses you? Do you
+wish to tell me? If so I will do my very best to help you."
+
+Mrs. Goddard's fingers pressed his hand a little, but her face was still
+turned away.
+
+"It is Mr. Juxon," she almost whispered. If she had been watching the
+vicar she would have noticed the strange air of perplexity which came
+over his face when he heard the squire's name.
+
+"Yes--Mr. Juxon," she moaned. Then the choked-down horror rose in her
+throat. "Walter means to murder him!" she almost screamed. "Oh, my God,
+my God, what shall I do!" she cried aloud clasping her hands suddenly
+over her face and rocking herself to and fro.
+
+The vicar was horror-struck; he could hardly believe his ears, and
+believing them his senses swam. In his wildest dreams--and the good man's
+dreams were rarely wild--he had never thought that such things could come
+near him. Being a very good man and, moreover, a wise man when he had
+plenty of time for reflection, he folded his hands quietly and bent his
+head, praying fervently for the poor tortured woman who moaned and tossed
+herself beside him. It was a terrible moment. Suddenly she controlled
+herself and grasping one of the arms of the chair looked round at her
+silent companion.
+
+"You must save him," she said in agonised tones, "you must save them
+both! Do not tell me you cannot--oh, do not tell me that!"
+
+It was a passionate and heart-broken appeal, such a one as few men would
+or could resist, coming as it did from a helpless and miserably unhappy
+woman. Whether the vicar was wise in giving the answer he did, it would
+be hard to say: but he was a man who honestly tried to do his best.
+
+"I will try, my dear lady," he said, making a great resolution. Mrs.
+Goddard took his hand and pressed it in both of hers, and the long
+restrained tears flowed fast and softly over her worn cheeks. For some
+moments neither spoke.
+
+"If you cannot save both--you must save--Mr. Juxon," she said at last,
+breathing the words rather than speaking them.
+
+The vicar knew or guessed what it must cost her to hint that her husband
+might be captured. He recognised that the only way in which he could
+contribute towards the escape of the convict was by not revealing his
+hiding-place, and he accordingly refrained from asking where he was
+concealed. He shuddered as he thought that Goddard might be lying hidden
+in the cottage itself, for all he could tell, but he was quite sure that
+he ought not to know it. So long as he did not know where the forger was,
+it was easy to hold his peace; but if once he knew, the vicar was not
+capable of denying the knowledge. He had never told a lie in his life.
+
+"I will try," he repeated; and growing calmer, he added, "You are
+quite sure this was not an empty threat, my dear friend? Was there any
+reason--a--I mean to say, had this unfortunate man ever known Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Oh no!" answered Mrs. Goddard, sinking back into her chair. "He never
+knew him." Her tears were still flowing but she no longer sobbed aloud;
+it had been a relief to her overwrought and sensitive temperament to give
+way to the fit of weeping. She actually felt better, though ten minutes
+earlier she would not have believed it possible.
+
+"Then--why?" asked Mr. Ambrose, hesitating.
+
+"My poor husband was a very jealous man," she answered. "I accidentally
+told him that the cottage belonged to Mr. Juxon and yesterday--do you
+remember? You walked on with Mr. Juxon beyond the turning, and then he
+came back to see me--to tell me of my husband's escape. Walter saw that
+and--and he thought, I suppose--that Mr. Juxon did not want you to see
+him coming here."
+
+"But Mr. Juxon had just promised me to go and see you," said the honest
+vicar.
+
+"Yes," said poor Mrs. Goddard, beginning to sob again, "but Walter--my
+husband--thinks that I--I care for Mr. Juxon--he is so jealous," cried
+she, again covering her face with her hands. The starting tears trickled
+through her fingers and fell upon her black dress. She was ashamed, this
+time, for she hated even to speak of such a possibility.
+
+"I understand," answered Mr. Ambrose gravely. It certainly did not strike
+him that it might be true, and his knowledge of such characters as Walter
+Goddard was got chiefly from the newspapers. He had often noticed in
+reports of trials and detailed descriptions of crimes that criminals seem
+to become entirely irrational after a certain length of time, and it was
+one of the arguments he best understood for demonstrating that bad men
+either are originally, or ultimately become mad. To men like the vicar,
+almost the only possible theory of crime is the theory of insanity. It is
+positively impossible for a man who has passed thirty or forty years in a
+quiet country parish to comprehend the motives or the actions of great
+criminals. He naturally says they must be crazy or they would not do such
+things. If Goddard were crazy enough to commit a forgery, he was crazy
+enough for anything, even to the extent of suspecting that his wife loved
+the squire.
+
+"I think," said Mr. Ambrose, "that if you agree with me it will be best
+to warn Mr. Juxon of his danger."
+
+"Of course," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "You must warn him at once!"
+
+"I will go to the Hall now," said the vicar bravely. "But--I am very
+sorry to have to dwell on the subject, my dear lady, but, without wishing
+in the least to know where the--your husband is, could you tell me
+anything about his appearance? For instance, if you understand what I
+mean, supposing that Mr. Juxon knew how he looked and should happen to
+meet him, knowing that he wished to kill him--he might perhaps avoid him,
+if you understand me?"
+
+The vicar's English was a little disturbed by his extreme desire not to
+hurt Mrs. Goddard's feelings. If the squire and his dog chanced to meet
+Walter Goddard they would probably not avoid him as the vicar expressed
+it; that was a point Mr. Ambrose was willing to leave to Mrs. Goddard's
+imagination.
+
+"Yes--must you know?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"We must know that," returned the vicar.
+
+"He is disguised as a poor tramp," she said sorrowfully. "He wears a
+smock-frock and an old hat I think. He is pale--oh, poor, poor Walter!"
+she cried again bursting into tears.
+
+Mr. Ambrose could say nothing. There was nothing to be said. He rose and
+took his hat--the old tall hat he wore to his parishioners' funerals.
+They were very primitive people in Billingsfield.
+
+"I will go at once," he said. "Believe me, you have all my sympathy--I
+will do all I can."
+
+Mary Goddard thanked him more by her looks than with any words she was
+able to speak. But she was none the less truly grateful for his sympathy
+and aid. She had a kind of blind reliance on him which made her feel that
+since she had once confided her trouble and danger nothing more could
+possibly be done. When he was gone, she sobbed with relief, as before she
+had wept for fear; she was hysterical, unstrung, utterly unlike herself.
+
+But as the vicar went up towards the Hall he felt that he had his hands
+full, and he felt moreover an uneasy sensation which he could not have
+explained. He was certainly no coward, but he had never been in such a
+position before and he did not like it; there was an air of danger about,
+an atmosphere which gave him a peculiarly unpleasant thrill from time to
+time. He was not engaged upon an agreeable errand, and he had a vague
+feeling, due, the scientists would have told him, to unconscious
+ratiocination, which seemed to tell him that something was going to
+happen. People who are very often in danger know that singular uneasiness
+which warns them that all is not well; it is not like anything else that
+can be felt. No one really knows its cause, unless it be true that the
+mind sometimes reasons for itself without the consciousness of the body,
+and communicates to the latter a spasmodic warning, the result of its
+cogitations.
+
+To say to the sturdy squire, "Beware of a man in a smock-frock, one
+Goddard the forger, who means to murder you," seemed of itself simple
+enough. But for the squire to distinguish this same Goddard from all
+other men in smock-frocks was a less easy matter. The vicar, indeed,
+could tell a strange face at a hundred yards, for he knew every man,
+woman and child in his parish; but the squire's acquaintance was more
+limited. Obviously, said Mr. Ambrose to himself, the squire's best course
+would be to stay quietly at home until the danger was passed, and to pass
+word to Policeman Gall to lay hands on any particularly seedy-looking
+tramps he happened to see in the village. It was Gall's duty to do so in
+any case, as he had been warned to be on the look-out. Mr. Ambrose
+inwardly wondered where the man could be hiding. Billingsfield was not,
+he believed, an easy place to hide in, for every ploughman knew his
+fellow, and a new face was always an object of suspicion. Not a gipsy
+tinker entered the village but what every one heard of it, and though
+tramps came through from time to time, it would be a difficult matter for
+one of them to remain two days in the place without attracting a great
+deal of attention. It was possible that Walter Goddard might have been
+concealed for one night in his wife's house, but even there he could not
+have remained hidden for two days without being seen by Mrs. Goddard's
+two women servants. The vicar walked rapidly through the park, looking
+about him suspiciously as he went. Goddard might at that very moment be
+lurking behind any one of those oaks; it would be most unpleasant if he
+mistook the vicar for the squire. But that, the vicar reflected, was
+impossible on account of his clerical dress. He reached the Hall in
+safety and stood looking down among the leafless trees, waiting for the
+door to be opened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Mr. Juxon received the vicar in the library as he had received him on the
+previous day; but on the present occasion Mr. Ambrose had not been sent
+for and the squire's face wore an expression of inquiry. He supposed his
+friend had come to ask him the result of the interview with Mrs. Goddard,
+and as he himself was on the point of going towards the cottage he wished
+the vicar had come at a later or an earlier hour.
+
+"I have a message to give you," said Mr. Ambrose, "a very important
+message."
+
+"Indeed?" answered the squire, observing his serious face.
+
+"Yes. I had better tell you at once. Mrs. Goddard sent for me this
+morning. She has actually seen her husband, who must be hiding in the
+neighbourhood. He came to her drawing-room window last night and the
+night before."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. "You don't tell me so!"
+
+"That is not the worst of the matter," continued the vicar, looking very
+grave and fixing his eyes on the squire's face. "This villainous fellow
+has been threatening to take your life, Mr. Juxon."
+
+Mr. Juxon stared at the vicar for a moment in surprise, and then broke
+into a hearty laugh.
+
+"My life!" he cried. "Upon my word, the fellow does not know what he is
+talking about! Do you mean to say that this escaped convict, who can be
+arrested at sight wherever he is found, imagines that he could attack me
+in broad daylight without being caught?"
+
+"Well, no, I suppose not--but you often walk home at night, Mr.
+Juxon--alone through the park."
+
+"I think that dog of mine could manage Mr. Goddard," remarked the squire
+calmly. "And pray, Mr. Ambrose, now that we know that the man is in the
+neighbourhood, what is to prevent us from finding him?"
+
+"We do not know where he is," replied the vicar, thanking the inspiration
+which had prevented him from asking Mrs. Goddard more questions. He had
+promised to save Goddard, too, or at least not to facilitate his capture.
+But though he was glad to be able to say honestly that he did not know
+where he was, he began to doubt whether in the eyes of the law he was
+acting rightly.
+
+"You do not know?" asked the squire.
+
+"No; and besides I think--perhaps--we ought to consider poor Mrs.
+Goddard's position."
+
+"Mrs. Goddard's position!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon almost angrily. "And who
+should consider her position more than I, Mr. Ambrose? My dear sir, I
+consider her position before all things--of course I do. But nothing
+could be of greater advantage to her position than the certainty that her
+husband is safely lodged in prison. I cannot imagine how he contrived
+to escape--can you?"
+
+"No, I cannot," answered Mr. Ambrose, thrusting his hands into his
+pockets and biting his long upper lip.
+
+"By the bye, did the fellow happen to say why he meant to lay violent
+hands on me?" inquired Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Since you ask--he did. It appears that he saw you going into the
+cottage, and immediately became jealous--"
+
+"Of me?" Mr. Juxon coloured a little beneath his bronzed complexion, and
+grew more angry. "Well, upon my word! But if that is true I am much
+obliged for your warning. Fellows of that sort never reason--he will very
+likely attack me as you say. It will be quite the last time he attacks
+anybody--the devil shall have his own, Mr. Ambrose, if I can help him to
+it--"
+
+"Dear me! Mr. Juxon--you surprise me," said the vicar, who had never
+heard his friend use such strong language before.
+
+"It is enough to surprise anybody," remarked the squire. "I trust we
+shall surprise Mr. Goddard before night. Excuse me, but when did he
+express his amiable intentions towards me?"
+
+"Last night, I believe," replied Mr. Ambrose, reluctantly.
+
+"And when did he see me going into the cottage?"
+
+"Yesterday afternoon, I believe." The vicar felt as though he were
+beginning to break his promise of shielding the fugitive, but he could
+not refuse to answer a direct question.
+
+"Then, when he saw me, he was either in the cottage or in the park. There
+was no one in the road, I am quite sure."
+
+"I do not know," said the vicar, delighted at being able to say so. He
+was such a simple man that Mr. Juxon noticed the tone of relief in which
+he denied any knowledge of Goddard's whereabouts on the previous day as
+compared with his reluctance to answer upon those points of which he was
+certain.
+
+"You are not anxious that Goddard should be caught," said the squire
+rather sharply.
+
+"Frankly," returned the vicar, "I do not wish to be instrumental in his
+capture--not that I am likely to be."
+
+"That is none of my business, Mr. Ambrose. I will try and catch him
+alone. But it would be better that he should be taken alive and
+quietly--"
+
+"Surely," cried the vicar in great alarm, "you would not kill him?"
+
+"Oh no, certainly not. But my dog might, Mr. Ambrose. They are ugly dogs
+when they are angry, and they have a remarkable faculty for finding
+people who are lost. They used to use them in Russia for tracking
+fugitive serfs and convicts who escaped from Siberia."
+
+Mr. Ambrose shuddered. The honest squire seemed almost as bloodthirsty in
+his eyes as the convict Goddard. He felt that he did not understand Mr.
+Juxon. The idea of hunting people with bloodhounds seemed utterly foreign
+to his English nature, and he could not understand how his English friend
+could entertain such a thought; he probably forgot that a few generations
+earlier the hunting of all kinds of men, papists, dissenters, covenanters
+and rebels, with dogs, had been a favourite English sport.
+
+"Really, Mr. Juxon," he said in an agitated tone, "I think you would do
+much better to protect yourself with the means provided by the law.
+Considerations of humanity--"
+
+"Considerations of humanity, sir, are at an end when one man threatens
+the life of another. You admit yourself that I am not safe unless Goddard
+is caught, and yet you object to my method of catching him. That is
+illogical."
+
+The vicar felt that this was to some extent true; but he was not willing
+to admit it. He knew also that if he could dissuade the squire from his
+barbarous scheme, Goddard would have a far better chance of escape.
+
+"I think that with the assistance of Gall and a London detective--" he
+began.
+
+"Gall is an old woman, Mr. Ambrose, and it will take twenty-four hours to
+get a detective from town. In twenty-four hours this man may have
+attacked me."
+
+"He will hardly attempt to force his way into your house, Mr. Juxon."
+
+"So then, I am to stay at home to suit his convenience? I will not do any
+such thing. Besides, in twenty-four hours Goddard may have changed his
+mind and may have taken himself off. For the rest of her life Mrs.
+Goddard will then be exposed to the possibility of every kind of
+annoyance."
+
+"He would never come back, I am sure," objected the vicar.
+
+"Why not? Every time he comes she will give him money. The more money she
+gives him the more often he will come, unless we put an end to his coming
+altogether."
+
+"You seem to forget," urged Mr. Ambrose, "that there will be a vigorous
+search made for him. Why not telegraph to the governor of Portland?"
+
+"I thought you wanted to save Mrs. Goddard from needless scandal; did you
+not?" returned the squire. "The governor of Portland would send down a
+squad of police who would publish the whole affair. He would have done so
+as soon as the man escaped had he known that Mrs. Goddard lived here."
+
+"I wonder how Goddard himself knew it," remarked Mr. Ambrose.
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps she told him she was coming here, at their last
+interview. Or perhaps she wrote to him in prison and the governor
+overlooked the letter. Anything like that would account for it."
+
+"But if you catch him--alive," hesitated the vicar, "it will all be known
+at once. I do not see how you can prevent that."
+
+"If I catch him alive, I will take him out of Billingsfield without any
+one's knowledge. I do not mean to hurt him. I only want to get him back
+to prison. Believe me, I am much more anxious than you can possibly be to
+save Mrs. Goddard from harm."
+
+"Very well. I have done my errand," said Mr. Ambrose, with a sort of sigh
+of relief. "I confess, I am in great anxiety of mind, both on your
+account and on hers. I never dreamed that such things could happen in
+Billingsfield."
+
+"You are certainly not responsible for them," answered Mr. Juxon. "It is
+not your fault--"
+
+"Not altogether, perhaps. But I was perhaps wrong in letting her come
+here--no, I am sure I was not," he added impulsively, as though ashamed
+of having said anything so unkind.
+
+"Certainly not. You were quite right, Mr. Ambrose, quite right, I assure
+you."
+
+"Well, I hope all may yet be for the best," said the vicar.
+
+"Let us hope so," replied Mr. Juxon gravely. "By all means, let us hope
+that all may be for the best."
+
+Whether the squire doubted the possibility of so happy an issue to events
+or not, is uncertain. He felt almost more sorry for the vicar than for
+himself; the vicar was such a good man, so unused to the violent deeds of
+violent people, of which the squire in his wanderings had seen more than
+was necessary to convince him that all was not always for the best in
+this best of all possible worlds.
+
+Mr. Ambrose left his friend and as he retraced his steps through the park
+was more disturbed than ever. That Goddard should contemplate killing the
+squire was bad enough, in all conscience, but that the squire should
+deliberately purpose to hunt down Goddard with his bloodhound seemed
+somehow even worse. The vicar had indeed promised Mrs. Goddard that he
+would not help to capture her husband, but he would have been as glad as
+any one to hear that the convict was once more lodged in his prison.
+There lurked in his mind, nevertheless, an impression that even a convict
+should have a fair chance. The idea was not expressed, but existed in
+him. Everybody, he would have said, ought to have a fair chance, and
+as the law of nations forbids the use of explosive bullets in warfare,
+the laws of humanity seemed to forbid the use of bloodhounds in the
+pursuit of criminals. He had a very great respect for the squire's
+character and principles, but the cold-blooded way in which Mr. Juxon had
+spoken of catching and probably killing Walter Goddard, had shaken the
+good vicar's belief in his friend. He doubted whether he were not now
+bound to return to Mrs. Goddard and to warn her in his turn of her
+husband's danger, whether he ought not to do something to save the
+wretched convict from his fate. It seemed hideous to think that in
+peaceful Billingsfield, in his own lonely parish, a human being should be
+exposed to such peril. But at this point the vicar's continuity forsook
+him. He had not the heart to tell the tale of his interview with Mr.
+Juxon to the unhappy lady he had left that morning. It was extremely
+improbable, he thought, that she should be able to communicate with her
+husband during the day, and the squire's language led him to think that
+the day would not pass without some attempt to discover Walter Goddard's
+hiding-place. Besides, the vicar's mind was altogether more disturbed
+than it had been in thirty years, and he was no longer able to account to
+himself with absolute accuracy for what he did. At all events, he felt
+that it was better not to tell Mrs. Goddard what the squire had said.
+
+When he was gone, Mr. Juxon paced his library alone in the greatest
+uncertainty. He had told the vicar in his anger that he would find
+Goddard with the help of Stamboul. That the hound was able to accomplish
+the feat in the present weather, and if Goddard had actually stood some
+time at the cottage window on the previous night, he did not doubt for a
+moment. The vicar had mentioned the window to him when he told him that
+Mrs. Goddard had seen her husband. He had probably been at the window as
+late as midnight, and the scent, renewed by his visit, would not be
+twelve hours old. Stamboul could find the man, unless he had got into a
+cart, which was improbable. But a new and startling consideration
+presented itself to the squire's mind when the vicar was gone and his
+anger had subsided; a consideration which made him hesitate what course
+to pursue.
+
+That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the
+criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should
+be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at
+large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to
+all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the
+fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one
+thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon
+had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the
+great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet
+through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the
+convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the
+squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection
+the thing appeared in a different light.
+
+He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if
+not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a
+wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free
+she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were
+removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the
+squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be
+to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for
+justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that
+Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard
+might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance
+to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want
+to murder Goddard and take his wife."
+
+It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and
+murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible one. The very
+uncertainty which there was, tempted the squire to disregard the
+possibility of Goddard's death as compared with the importance of his
+capture. It was quite likely, he unconsciously argued, that the
+bloodhound would not kill him after all; it was even possible that he
+might not find him; but it would be worth while to make the attempt, for
+the results to be obtained by catching the fugitive were very great--Mrs.
+Goddard's peace was to be considered before all things. But still before
+the squire's eyes arose the picture of Stamboul tearing the throat of the
+man he had killed in the Belgrade forest. If he killed the felon, Juxon
+would know that to all intents and purposes he had himself done the deed
+in order to marry Mrs. Goddard. But still the thought remained with him
+and would not leave him.
+
+The fellow had threatened his own life. It was then a fair fight,
+for a man cannot be blamed if he tries to get the better of one who is
+going about to kill him. On one of his many voyages, he had once shot a
+man in order to quell a mutiny; he had not killed him it is true, but
+he had disabled him for the time--he had handled many a rough customer
+in his day. The case, he thought, was similar, for it was the case of
+self-defence. The law, even, would say he was justified. But to slay a
+man in self-defence and then to marry his widow, though justifiable in
+law, is a very delicate case for the conscience; and in spite of the
+wandering life he had led, Mr. Juxon's conscience was sensitive. He was
+an honest man and a gentleman, he had tried all his life to do right as
+he saw it, and did not mean to turn murderer now, no matter how easy it
+would be for him to defend his action.
+
+At the end of an hour he had decided that it would be murder, and no
+less, to let Stamboul track Goddard to his hiding-place. The hound might
+accompany him in his walks, and if anybody attacked him it would be so
+much the worse for his assailant. Murder or no murder, he was entitled to
+take any precautions he pleased against an assault. But he would not
+willingly put the bloodhound on the scent, and he knew well enough that
+the dog would not run upon a strange trail unless he were put to it.
+The squire went to his lunch, feeling that he had made a good resolution;
+but he ate little and soon afterwards began to feel the need of going
+down to see Mrs. Goddard. No day was complete without seeing her, and
+considering the circumstances which had occurred on the previous
+afternoon, it was natural that he should call to inquire after her state.
+In the hall, the gigantic beast which had played such an important part
+in his thoughts during the morning, came solemnly up to him, raising his
+great red eyes as though asking whether he were to accompany his master.
+The squire stood still and looked at him for a moment.
+
+"Come along, Stamboul!" he said suddenly, as he put on his hat. The hound
+leaped up and laid his heavy paws on the squire's shoulders, trying to
+lick his face in his delight, then, almost upsetting the sturdy man he
+sprang back, slipped on the polished floor, recovered himself and with an
+enormous stride bounded past Mr. Juxon, out into the park. But Mr. Juxon
+quickly called him back, and presently he was following close at heel in
+his own stately way, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The
+squire felt nervous, and the sensation was new to him. He did not believe
+that Goddard would really attack him at all, certainly not that he would
+dare to attack him in broad daylight. But the knowledge of the threat the
+fellow had uttered made him watchful. He glanced to the right and left as
+he walked and gripped his heavy blackthorn stick firmly in his hand. He
+wished that if the man were to appear he would come quickly--it might be
+hard to hold Stamboul back if he were attacked unawares.
+
+He reached the gate, crossed the road and rang the bell of the cottage.
+As he stood waiting, Stamboul smelled the ground, put up his head,
+smelled it again and with his nose down trotted slowly to the window on
+the left hand of the door. He smelled the ground, the wall and presently
+put both his fore paws upon the outer ledge of the window. Then he
+dropped again, and looked at his master. Martha was a long time in coming
+to the door.
+
+"After him, Stamboul!" said the squire, almost unconsciously. The dog put
+his nose down and began to move slowly about. At that moment the door
+opened.
+
+"Oh, sir," said Martha, "it's you, sir. I was to say, if you please, that
+if you called, Mrs. Goddard was poorly to-day, sir."
+
+"Dear me!" said Mr. Juxon, "I hope she is not ill. Is it anything
+serious, Martha?"
+
+"Well, sir, she's been down this mornin', but her head ached terrible bad
+and she went back to her room--oh, sir, your dog--he's a runnin' home."
+
+As she spoke a sound rang in the air that made Martha start back. It was
+a deep, resounding, bell-like note, fierce and wild, rising and falling,
+low but full, with a horror indescribable in its echo--the sound which no
+man who has heard it ever forgets--the baying of a bloodhound on the
+track of a man.
+
+The squire turned deadly pale, but he shouted with all his might, as he
+would have shouted to a man on the topsail yard in a gale at sea.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul! Stamboul!" Again and again he yelled the dog's name.
+
+Stamboul had not gone far. The quickset hedge had baffled the scent for a
+moment and he was not a dozen yards beyond it in the park when his
+master's cry stopped him. Instantly he turned, cleared the six-foot hedge
+and double ditch at a bound and came leaping back across the road. The
+squire breathed hard, for it had been a terrible moment. If he had not
+succeeded in calling the beast back, it might have been all over with
+Walter Goddard, wherever he was hidden.
+
+"It is only his play," said Mr. Juxon, still very white and holding
+Stamboul by the collar. "Please tell Mrs. Goddard, Martha, that I am very
+sorry indeed to hear that she is ill, and that I will inquire this
+evening."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Martha, who eyed the panting beast timidly and showed an
+evident desire to shut the door as soon as possible.
+
+The squire felt more nervous than ever as he walked slowly along the road
+in the direction of the village, his hand still on the bloodhound's
+collar. He felt what a narrow escape Goddard had probably had, and the
+terrible sound of Stamboul's baying had brought back to him once again
+and very vividly the scene in the woods by the Bosphorus. He felt that
+for a few minutes at least he would rather not enter the park with the
+dog by him, and he naturally turned towards the vicarage, not with any
+intention of going in, but from sheer force of custom, as people under
+the influence of strong emotions often do things unconsciously which they
+are in the habit of doing. He walked slowly along, and had almost reached
+Mr. Ambrose's pretty old red brick house, when he found himself face to
+face with the vicar's wife. She presented an imposing appearance, as
+usual; her grey skirt, drawn up a little from the mud, revealed a bright
+red petticoat and those stout shoes which she regarded as so essential
+to health; she wore moreover a capacious sealskin jacket and a dark
+bonnet with certain jet flowers, which for many years had been regarded
+by the inhabitants of Billingsfield as the distinctive badge of a
+gentlewoman. Mrs. Ambrose was wont to smile and say that they were
+indestructible and would last as long as she did. She greeted Mr. Juxon
+cordially.
+
+"How do you, Mr. Juxon--were you going to see us? I was just going for a
+walk--perhaps you will come with me?"
+
+Mr. Juxon turned back and prepared to accompany her.
+
+"Such good news this morning, from John Short," she said. "He has
+finished his examinations, and it seems almost certain that he will be
+senior classic. His tutor at Trinity has written already to congratulate
+my husband upon his success."
+
+"I am sure, I am delighted, too," said the squire, who had regained his
+composure but kept his hold on Stamboul's collar. "He deserves all he
+gets, and more too," he continued. "I think he will be a remarkable man."
+
+"I did not think you liked him so very much," said Mrs. Ambrose rather
+doubtfully, as she walked slowly by his side.
+
+"Oh--I liked him very much. Indeed, I was going to ask him to stay with
+me for a few days at the Hall."
+
+The inspiration was spontaneous. Mr. Juxon was in a frame of mind in
+which he felt that he ought to do something pleasant for somebody, to set
+off against the bloodthirsty designs which had passed through his mind in
+the morning. He knew that if he had not been over friendly to John, it
+had been John's own fault; but since he had found out that it was
+impossible to marry Mrs. Goddard, he had forgiven the young scholar his
+shortcomings and felt very charitably inclined towards him. It suddenly
+struck him that it would give John great pleasure to stop at the Hall for
+a few days, and that it would be no inconvenience to himself. The effect
+upon Mrs. Ambrose was greater even than he had expected. She was
+hospitable, good and kind, but she was also economical, as she had need
+to be. The squire was rich. If the squire would put up John during a part
+of his visit it would be a kindness to John himself, and an economy to
+the vicarage. Mr. Ambrose himself would not have gone to such a length;
+but then, as his wife said to herself in self-defence, Augustin did not
+pay the butcher's bills, and did not know how the money went. She did not
+say that Augustin was precisely what is called reckless, but he of course
+did not understand economy as she did. How should he, poor man, with all
+his sermons and his funerals and other occupations to take his mind off?
+Mrs. Ambrose was delighted at the squire's proposal.
+
+"Really!" she exclaimed. "That would be too good of you, Mr. Juxon. And
+you do not know how it would quite delight him! He loves books so much,
+and then you know," she added in a confidential manner, "he has never
+stayed in a country house in his life, I am quite sure."
+
+"And when is he coming down?" asked Mr. Juxon. "I should be very much
+pleased to have him."
+
+"To-morrow, I think," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Well--would you ask him from me to come up and stop a week? Can you
+spare him, Mrs. Ambrose? I know you are very fond of him, of course,
+but--"
+
+"Oh very," said she warmly. "But I think it likely he will stay some
+time," she added in explanation of her willingness to let him go to the
+Hall.
+
+The squire felt vaguely that the presence of a guest in his house would
+probably be a restraint upon him, and he felt that some restraint would
+be agreeable to him at the present time.
+
+"Besides," added Mrs. Ambrose, "if you would like to have him
+first--there is a little repair necessary in his room at the vicarage--we
+have put it off too long--"
+
+"By all means." said the squire, following out his own train of thought.
+"Send him up to me as soon as he comes. If I can manage it I will be down
+here to ask him myself."
+
+"It is so good of you," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Not at all. Are you going to the cottage?"
+
+"Yes--why?"
+
+"Nothing," said Mr. Juxon. "I did not know whether you would like to walk
+on a little farther with me. Good-bye, then. You will tell Short as soon
+as he comes, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly," replied Mrs. Ambrose, still beaming upon him. "I will not
+let him unpack his things at the vicarage. Good-bye--so many thanks."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard's head ached "terrible bad" according to Martha, and when
+the vicar left her she went and lay down upon her bed, with a sensation
+that if the worst were not yet over she could bear no more. But she had
+an elastic temperament, and the fact of having consulted Mr. Ambrose that
+morning had been a greater relief than she herself suspected. She felt
+that he could be trusted to save Mr. Juxon from harm and Walter from
+capture, and having once confided to him the important secret which had
+so heavily weighed upon her mind she felt that the burthen of her
+troubles was lightened. Mr. Juxon could take any measures he pleased for
+his own safety; he would probably choose to stay at home until the danger
+was past. As for her husband, Mary Goddard did not believe that he would
+return a third time, for she thought that she had thoroughly frightened
+him. It was even likely that he had only thrown out his threat for the
+sake of terrifying his wife, and was now far beyond the limits of the
+parish. So great was the relief she felt after she had talked with the
+vicar that she almost ceased to believe there was any danger at all;
+looking at it in the light of her present mood, she almost wondered why
+she had thought it necessary to tell Mr. Ambrose--until suddenly a vision
+of her friend the squire, attacked and perhaps killed, in his own park,
+rose to her mental vision, and she remembered what agonies of fear she
+had felt for him until she had sent for the vicar. The latter indeed
+seemed to have been a sort of _deus ex maohinâ_ by whom she suddenly
+obtained peace of mind and a sense of security in the hour of her
+greatest distress.
+
+All that afternoon she lay upon her bed, while Nellie sat beside her and
+read to her, and stroked her hands; for Nellie was in reality
+passionately fond of her mother and suffered almost as much at the sight
+of her suffering as she could have done had she been in pain herself.
+Both Mrs. Goddard and the child started at the sound of Stamboul's
+baying, which was unlike anything they had ever heard before, and Nellie
+ran to the window.
+
+"It is only Mr. Juxon and Stamboul having a game," said Nellie. "What a
+noise he made, though! Did not he?"
+
+Poor Nellie--had she had any idea of what the "game" was from which the
+squire found it so hard to make his hound desist, she must have gone
+almost mad with horror. For the game was her own father, poor child. But
+she came back and sat beside her mother utterly unconscious of what might
+have happened if Stamboul had once got beyond earshot, galloping along
+the trail towards the disused vault at the back of the church. Mrs.
+Goddard had started at the sounds and had put her hand to her forehead,
+but Nellie's explanation was enough to quiet her, and she smiled faintly
+and closed her eyes again. Then, half an hour later, Mrs. Ambrose came,
+and would not be denied. She wanted to make Mrs. Goddard comfortable, she
+said, when she found she was ill, and she did her best, being a kind and
+motherly woman when not hardened by the presence of strangers. She told
+her that John was coming on the next day, speaking with vast pride of his
+success and omitting to look sternly at Mrs. Goddard as she had formerly
+been accustomed to do when she spoke of the young scholar. Then at last
+she went away, after exacting a promise from Mrs. Goddard to come and
+dine, bringing Nellie with her, on the following day, in case she should
+have recovered by that time from her headache.
+
+But during all that night Mrs. Goddard lay awake, listening for the sound
+she so much dreaded, of a creeping footstep on the slated path outside
+and for the tapping at the window. Nothing came, however, and as the grey
+dawn began to creep in through the white curtains, she fell peacefully
+asleep. Nellie would not let her be waked, and breakfasted without her,
+enjoying with childish delight the state of being waited on by Martha
+alone.
+
+Meanwhile, at an early hour, John arrived at the vicarage and was
+received with open arms by Mr. Ambrose and his wife. The latter seemed to
+forget, in the pleasure of seeing him again, that she had even once
+spoken doubtfully of him or hinted that he was anything short of
+perfection itself. And to prove how much she had done for him she
+communicated with great pride the squire's message, to the effect that he
+expected John at the Hall that very day.
+
+John's heart leaped with delight at the idea. It was natural. He was
+indeed most sincerely attached to the Ambroses, and most heartily glad to
+be with them; but he had never in his life had an opportunity of staying
+in a "big" house, as he would have described it. It seemed as though he
+were already beginning to taste the sweet first-fruits of success after
+all his labour and all his privations; it was the first taste of another
+world, the first mouthful of the good things of life which had fallen to
+his lot. Instantly there rose before him delicious visions of hot-water
+cans brought by a real footman, of luxurious meals served by a real
+butler, of soft carpets perpetually beneath his feet, of liberty to
+lounge in magnificent chairs in the magnificent library; and last, though
+not least, there was a boyish feeling of delight in the thought that when
+he went to see Mrs. Goddard he would go from the Hall, that she would
+perhaps associate him henceforth with a different kind of existence, in a
+word, that he was sure to acquire importance in her eyes from the fact of
+his visit to the squire. Many a young fellow of one and twenty is as
+familiar with all that money can give and as tired of luxury as a
+broken-down hard liver of forty years; for this is an age of luxurious
+living. But poor John had hardly ever tasted the least of those things
+too familiar to the golden youth of the period to be even noticed. He had
+felt when he first entered the little drawing-room of the cottage that
+Mrs. Goddard herself belonged, or had belonged, to that delicious unknown
+world of ease where the question of expense was never considered, much
+less mentioned. In her own eyes she was indeed living in a state
+approaching to penury, but the spectacle of her pictures, her furniture
+and her bibelots had impressed John with a very different idea. The
+squire's invitation, asking him to spend a week at the Hall, seemed in a
+moment to put him upon the same level as the woman to whom he believed
+himself so devotedly attached. To his mind the ideal woman could not but
+be surrounded by a luxurious atmosphere of her own. To enter the charmed
+precincts of those surroundings seemed to John equivalent to being
+transported from the regions of the Theocritan to the level of the
+Anacreontic ode, from the pastoral, of which he had had too much, to the
+aristocratic, of which he felt that he could not have enough. It was a
+natural feeling in a very young man of his limited experience.
+
+He stayed some hours at the vicarage. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose thought
+him changed in the short time which had elapsed since they had seen him.
+He had grown more grave; he was certainly more of a man. The great
+contest he had just sustained with so much honour had left upon his young
+face its mark, an air of power which had not formerly been visible there;
+even his voice seemed to have grown deeper and rounder, and his words
+carried more weight. The good vicar, who had seen several generations
+of students, already distinguished in John Short the budding "don," and
+rubbed his hands with great satisfaction.
+
+John asked few questions but found himself obliged to answer many
+concerning his recent efforts. He would have liked to say something about
+Mrs. Goddard, but he remembered with some awe and much aversion the
+circumstances in which he had last quitted the vicarage, and he held his
+peace; whereby he again rose in Mrs. Ambrose's estimation. He made up for
+his silence by speaking effusively of the squire's kindness in asking him
+to the Hall; forgetting perhaps the relief he had felt when he escaped
+from Billingsfield after Christmas without being again obliged to shake
+hands with Mr. Juxon. Things looked very differently now, however. He
+felt himself to be somebody in the world, and that distressing sense of
+inferiority which had perhaps been at the root of his jealousy against
+the squire was gone, swallowed in the sense of triumph. His face was
+pale, perhaps, from overwork, but there was a brilliancy in his eyes and
+an incisiveness in his speech which came from the confidence of victory.
+He now desired nothing more than to meet the squire, feeling sure that he
+should receive his congratulations, and though he stayed some hours in
+conversation with his old friends, in imagination he was already at the
+Hall. The squire had not come down to meet him, as he had proposed, but
+he had sent his outlandish American gig with his groom to fetch John.
+While he was at the vicarage the latter was probably too much occupied
+with conversation to notice that Mr. Ambrose seemed preoccupied and
+changed, and the vicar was to some extent recalled to his usual manner by
+the presence of his pupil. Mrs. Ambrose had taxed her husband with
+concealing something from her ever since the previous day, but the good
+man was obstinate and merely said that he felt unaccountably nervous and
+irritable, and begged her to excuse his mood. Mrs. Ambrose postponed her
+cross-examination until a more favourable opportunity should present
+itself.
+
+John got into the gig and drove away. He was to return with the squire to
+dinner in the evening, and he fully expected that Mrs. Goddard and Nellie
+would be of the party--it seemed hardly likely that they should be
+omitted. Indeed, soon after John had left a note arrived at the vicarage
+explaining that Mrs. Goddard was much better and would certainly come,
+according to Mrs. Ambrose's very kind invitation.
+
+It is unnecessary to dwell upon the meeting which took place between Mr.
+Juxon and John Short. The squire was hospitable in the extreme and
+expressed his great satisfaction at having John under his own roof at
+last. He was perhaps, like the vicar, a little nervous, but the young man
+did not notice it, being much absorbed by the enjoyment of his good
+fortune and of the mental rest he so greatly needed. Mr. Juxon
+congratulated him warmly and expressed a hope, amounting to certainty,
+that John might actually be at the head of the Tripos; to which John
+modestly replied that he would be quite satisfied to be in the first ten,
+knowing in his heart that he should be most bitterly disappointed if he
+were second to any one. He sat opposite to his host in a deep chair
+beside the fire in the library and revelled in comfort and ease, enjoying
+every trifle that fell in his way, feeling only a very slight diffidence
+in regard to himself for the present and none at all for the future. The
+squire was so cordial that he felt himself thoroughly at home. Indeed Mr.
+Juxon already rejoiced at his wisdom in asking John to the Hall. The lad
+was strong, hopeful, well-balanced in every respect and his presence was
+an admirable tonic to the almost morbid state of anxiety in which the
+squire had lived ever since his interview with Policeman Gall, two days
+before. In the sunshine of John's young personality, fears grew small and
+hope grew big. The ideas which had passed through Mr. Juxon's brain on
+the previous evening, just after Mr. Ambrose had warned him of Goddard's
+intentions, seemed now like the evil shadows of a nightmare. All
+apprehension lest the convict should attempt to execute his threats
+disappeared like darkness before daylight, and in the course of an hour
+or two the squire found himself laughing and chatting with his guest as
+though there were no such things as forgery or convicts in the world. The
+afternoon passed very pleasantly between the examination of Mr. Juxon's
+treasures and the conversation those objects elicited. For John, who was
+an accomplished scholar, had next to no knowledge of bibliology and took
+delight in seeing for the first time many a rare edition which he had
+heard mentioned or had read of in the course of his studies. He would not
+have believed that he could be now talking on such friendly terms with a
+man for whom he had once felt the strongest antipathy, and Mr. Juxon on
+his part felt that in their former meetings he had not done full justice
+to the young man's undoubted talents.
+
+As they drove down to the vicarage that evening Mrs. Goddard's name was
+mentioned for the first time. John, with a fine affectation of
+indifference, asked how she was.
+
+"She has not been very well lately," answered Mr. Juxon.
+
+"What has been the matter?" inquired John, who could not see his
+companion's face in the dark shade of the trees.
+
+"Headache, I believe," returned the squire laconically, and silence
+ensued for a few moments. "I should not wonder if it rained again this
+evening," he added presently as they passed through the park gate, out
+into the road. The sky was black and it was hard to see anything beyond
+the yellow streak of light which fell from the lamps and ran along the
+road before the gig.
+
+"If it turns out a fine night, don't come for us. We will walk home,"
+said the squire to the groom as they descended before the vicarage and
+Stamboul, who had sat on the floor between them, sprang down to the
+ground.
+
+John was startled when he met Mrs. Goddard. He was amazed at the change
+in her appearance for which no one had prepared him. She met him indeed
+very cordially but he felt as though she were not the same woman he had
+known so short a time before. There was still in her face that delicate
+pathetic expression which had at first charmed him, there was still the
+same look in her eyes; but what had formerly seemed so attractive seemed
+now exaggerated. Her cheeks looked wan and hollow and there were deep
+shadows about her eyes and temples; her lips had lost their colour and
+the lines about her mouth had suddenly become apparent where John had not
+before suspected them. She looked ten years older as she put her thin
+hand in his and smiled pleasantly at his greeting. Some trite phrase
+about the "ravages of time" crossed John's mind and gave him a
+disagreeable sensation, for which it was hard to account. He felt as
+though his dream were suddenly dead and a strange reality had taken life
+in its place. Could this be she to whom he had written verses by the
+score, at whose smile he had swelled with pride, at whose careless laugh
+he had trembled with shame? She was terribly changed, she looked
+positively old--what John called old. As he sat by her side talking and
+wondering whether he would fall back into those same grooves of
+conversation he had associated with her formerly, he felt something akin
+to pity for her, which he had certainly never expected to feel. She was
+not the same as before--even the tone of her voice was different; she was
+gentle, pathetic, endowed even now with many charms, but she was not
+the woman he had dreamed of and tried to speak to of the love he fancied
+was in his heart. She talked--yes; but there were long pauses, and her
+eyes wandered strangely from him, often towards the windows of the
+vicarage drawing-room, often towards the doors; her answers were not
+always to the point and her interest seemed to flag in what was said.
+John could not fail to notice too that both Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon
+treated her with the kind of attention which is bestowed upon invalids,
+and the vicar's wife was constantly doing something to make her
+comfortable, offering her a footstool, shading the light from her eyes,
+asking if she felt any draught where she sat. These were things no one
+had formerly thought of doing for Mrs. Goddard, who in spite of her sad
+face had been used to laugh merrily enough with the rest, and whose lithe
+figure had seemed to John the embodiment of youthful activity. At last he
+ventured to ask her a question.
+
+"Have you been ill, Mrs. Goddard?" he inquired in a voice full of
+interest. Her soft eyes glanced uneasily at him. He was now the only one
+of the party who was not in some degree acquainted with her troubles.
+
+"Oh no!" she answered nervously. "Only a little headache. It always makes
+me quite wretched when I have it."
+
+"Yes. I often have headaches, too," answered John. "The squire told me as
+we came down."
+
+"What did he tell you?" asked Mrs. Goddard so quickly as to startle her
+companion.
+
+"Oh--only that you had not been very well. Where is it that you suffer?"
+he asked sympathetically. "I think it is worst when it seems to be in
+the very centre of one's head, like a red-hot nail being driven in with a
+hammer--is that like what you feel?"
+
+"I--yes, I daresay. I don't quite know," she answered, her eyes wandering
+uneasily about the room. "I suppose you have dreadful headaches over
+your work, do you not, Mr. Short?" she added quickly, feeling that she
+must say something.
+
+"Oh, it is all over now," said John rather proudly. But as he leaned back
+in his chair he said to himself that this meeting was not precisely what
+he had anticipated; the subject of headaches might have a fine interest
+in its way, but he had expected to have talked of more tender things. To
+his own great surprise he felt no desire to do so, however. He had not
+recovered from the shock of seeing that Mrs. Goddard had grown old.
+
+"Yes," said she, kindly. "How glad you must be! To have done so
+splendidly too--you must feel that you have realised a magnificent
+dream."
+
+"No," said John. "I cannot say I do. I have done the thing I meant to do,
+or I have good reason to believe that I have; but I have not realised my
+dream. I shall never write any more odes, Mrs. Goddard."
+
+"Why not? Oh, you mean to me, Mr. Short?" she added with something of her
+old manner. "Well, you know, it is much better that you should not."
+
+"Perhaps so," answered John rather sadly. "I don't know. Frankly, Mrs.
+Goddard, did not you sometimes think I was very foolish last Christmas?"
+
+"Very," she said, smiling at him kindly. "But I think you have changed. I
+think you are more of a man, now--you have something more serious--"
+
+"I used to think I was very serious, and so I was," said John, with the
+air of a man who refers to the follies of his long past youth. "Do you
+remember how angry I was when you wanted me to skate with Miss Nellie?"
+
+"Oh, I only said that to teaze you," Mrs. Goddard answered. "I daresay
+you would be angry now, if I suggested the same thing."
+
+"No," said John quietly. "I do not believe I should be. As you say, I
+feel very much older now than I did then."
+
+"The older we grow the more we like youth," said Mary Goddard,
+unconsciously uttering one of the fundamental truths of human nature, and
+at the same time so precisely striking the current of John's thoughts
+that he started. He was wondering within himself why it was that she now
+seemed too old for him, whereas a few short months ago she had seemed to
+be of his own age.
+
+"How true that is!" he exclaimed. Mrs. Goddard laughed faintly.
+
+"You are not old enough to have reached that point yet, Mr. Short," she
+said. "Really, here we are moralising like a couple of old philosophers!"
+
+"This is a moralising season," answered John. "When we last met, it was
+all holly-berries and Christmas and plum-pudding."
+
+"How long ago that seems!" exclaimed the poor lady with a sigh.
+
+"Ages!" echoed John, sighing in his turn, but not so much for sadness, it
+may be, as from relief that the great struggle was over. That time of
+anxiety and terrible effort seemed indeed very far removed from him, but
+its removal was a cause of joy rather than of sadness. He sighed like a
+man who, sitting over his supper, remembers the hard fought race he has
+won in the afternoon, feeling yet in his limbs the ability to race and
+win again but feeling in his heart the delicious consciousness that the
+question of his superiority has been decided beyond all dispute.
+
+"And now you will stay here a long time, of course," said Mrs. Goddard
+presently.
+
+"I am stopping at the Hall, just now," said John with a distinct sense of
+the importance of the fact, "and after a week I shall stay here a few
+days. Then I shall go to London to see my father."
+
+"No one will be so glad as he to hear of your success."
+
+"No indeed. I really think it is more for his sake that I want to be
+actually first," said John. "Do you know, I have so often thought how he
+will look when I meet him and tell him I am the senior classic."
+
+John's voice trembled and as Mrs. Goddard looked at him, she thought she
+saw a moisture in his eyes. It pleased her to see it, for it showed that
+John Short had more heart than she had imagined.
+
+"I can fancy that," she said, warmly. "I envy you that moment."
+
+Presently the squire came over to where they were sitting and joined
+them; and then Mrs. Ambrose spoke to John, and Nellie came and asked him
+questions. Strange to say John felt none of that annoyance which he
+formerly felt when his conversations with Mrs. Goddard were interrupted,
+and he talked with Nellie and Mrs. Ambrose quite as readily as with her.
+He felt very calm and happy that night, as though he had done with the
+hard labour of life. In half an hour he had realised that he was no more
+in love with Mrs. Goddard than he was with Mrs. Ambrose, and he was
+trying to explain to himself how it was that he had ever believed in such
+a palpable absurdity. Love was doubtless blind, he thought, but he was
+surely not so blind as to overlook the evidences of Mrs. Goddard's age.
+All the dreams of that morning faded away before the sight of her face,
+and so deep is the turpitude of the best of human hearts that John was
+almost ashamed of having once thought he loved her. That was probably the
+best possible proof that his love had been but a boyish fancy.
+
+What the little party at the vicarage would have been like, if John's
+presence had not animated it, would be hard to say. The squire and Mr.
+Ambrose treated Mrs. Goddard with the sort of paternal but solemn care
+which is usually bestowed either upon great invalids or upon persons
+bereaved of some very dear relation. The two elder men occasionally
+looked at her and exchanged glances when they were not observed by Mrs.
+Ambrose, wondering perhaps what would next befall the unfortunate lady
+and whether she could bear much more of the excitement and anxiety to
+which she had of late been subjected. On the whole the conversation was
+far from being lively, and Mrs. Goddard herself felt that it was a relief
+when the hour came for going home.
+
+The vicar had ordered his dog-cart for her and Nellie, but as the night
+had turned out better than had been expected Mr. Juxon's groom had not
+come down from the Hall. Both he and John would be glad of the walk; it
+had not rained for two days and the roads were dry.
+
+"Look here," said the squire, as they rose to take their leave, "Mr.
+Short had better go as far as the cottage in the dog-cart, to see Mrs.
+Goddard home. I will go ahead on foot--I shall probably be there as soon
+as you. There is not room for us all, and somebody must go with her, you
+know. Besides," he added, "I have got Stamboul with me."
+
+Mrs. Goddard, who was standing beside the squire, laid her hand
+beseechingly upon his arm.
+
+"Oh, pray don't," she said in low voice. "Why have you not got your
+carriage?"
+
+"Never mind me," he answered in the same tone. "I am all right, I like to
+walk."
+
+Before she could say anything more, he had shaken hands with Mr. and Mrs.
+Ambrose and was gone. Perhaps in his general determination to be good to
+everybody he fancied that John would enjoy the short drive with Mrs.
+Goddard better than the walk with himself.
+
+But when he was gone, Mrs. Goddard grew very nervous. One of her wraps
+could not be found, and while search was being made for it the motherly
+Mrs. Ambrose insisted upon giving her something hot, in the way of brandy
+and water. She looked very ill, but showed the strongest desire to go. It
+was no matter about the shawl, she said; Mr. Ambrose could send it in the
+morning; but the thing was found and at last Mrs. Goddard and Nellie and
+John got into the dog-cart with old Reynolds and drove off. All these
+things consumed some time.
+
+The squire on the other hand strode briskly forward towards the cottage,
+not wishing to keep John waiting for him. As he walked his mind wandered
+back to the consideration of the almost tragic events which were
+occurring in the peaceful village. He forgot all about John, as he looked
+up at the half moon which struggled to give some light through the
+driving clouds; he fell to thinking of Mrs. Goddard and to wondering
+where her husband might be lying hidden. The road was lonely and he
+walked fast, with Stamboul close at his heel. The dog-cart did not
+overtake him before he reached the cottage, and he forgot all about it.
+By sheer force of habit he opened the white gate and, closing it behind
+him, entered the park alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the
+vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she
+betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave
+face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid
+since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about
+him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to
+offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and
+had been very much surprised at the squire's sudden determination to walk
+home; he would gladly have seized his hat and run after his friend, but
+he feared Mrs. Ambrose's curiosity and moreover on reflection felt sure
+that the dog-cart would overtake Mr. Juxon before he was half way to the
+cottage. He was very far from suspecting him of the absence of mind which
+he actually displayed, but it was a great relief to him to see the little
+party safe in the dog-cart and on the way homeward.
+
+Mrs. Goddard was on the front seat with old Reynolds, and John, who would
+have preferred to sit by her side a few months ago, was glad to find
+himself behind with Nellie. It was a curious instinct, but he felt it
+strongly and was almost grateful to the old man for stolidly keeping his
+seat. So he sat beside Nellie and talked to her, to the child's intense
+delight; she had not enjoyed the evening very much, for she felt the
+general sense of oppression as keenly as children always feel such
+things, and she had long exhausted the slender stock of illustrated books
+which lay upon the table in the vicarage drawing-room.
+
+"There is no more skating now," said John. "What do you do to amuse
+yourselves?"
+
+"I am studying history with mamma," answered Nellie, "and that takes ever
+so much time, you know. And then--oh, we are beginning to think of the
+spring, and we look after the violet plants in the frames."
+
+"It does not feel much like spring," remarked John.
+
+"No--and mamma has not been well lately, so we have not done much of
+anything."
+
+"Has she been ill long?" asked John.
+
+"No--oh no! Only the last two or three days, ever since--" Nellie stopped
+herself. Her mother had told her not to mention the tramp's visit.
+
+"Ever since when?" asked John, becoming suddenly interested.
+
+"Ever since the last time the Ambroses came to tea," said Nellie with a
+readiness beyond her years. "But she looks dreadfully, does not she?"
+
+"Dreadfully," answered John. Then, leaning back and turning his head he
+spoke to Mrs. Goddard. "I hope you are quite warm enough?" he said.
+
+"Quite--thanks," answered she, but her voice sounded tremulous in the
+night. It might have been the shaking of the dog-cart. In a few minutes
+they drew up before the door of the cottage. John sprang to the ground
+and almost lifted Mrs. Goddard from the high seat.
+
+"Where is Mr. Juxon?" she asked anxiously.
+
+John looked round, peering into the gloom. A black cloud driven by the
+strong east wind was passing over the moon, and for some moments it was
+almost impossible to see anything. The squire was nowhere to be seen.
+John turned and helped Nellie off the back seat of the dog-cart.
+
+"I am afraid we must have passed him," he said quietly. Formerly Mrs.
+Goddard's tone of anxiety as she asked for the squire would have roused
+John's resentment; he now thought nothing of it. Reynolds prepared to
+move off.
+
+"Won't you please wait a moment, Reynolds?" said Mrs. Goddard, going
+close to the old man. She could not have told why she asked him to stay,
+it was a nervous impulse.
+
+"Why?" asked John. "You know I am going to the Hall."
+
+"Yes, of course. I only thought, perhaps, you and Mr. Juxon would like to
+drive up--it is so dark. I am sure Mr. Ambrose would not mind you taking
+the gentlemen up to the Hall, Reynolds?"
+
+"No m'm. I'm quite sure as he wouldn't," exclaimed Reynolds with great
+alacrity. He immediately had visions of a pint of beer in the Hall
+kitchen.
+
+"You do not think Mr. Juxon may have gone on alone, Mr. Short?" said Mrs.
+Goddard, leaning upon the wicket gate. Her face looked very pale in the
+gloom.
+
+"No--at would be very odd if he did," replied John, who had his hands in
+his greatcoat pockets and slowly stamped one foot after another on the
+hard ground, to keep himself warm.
+
+"Then we must have passed him on the road," said Mrs. Goddard. "But I was
+so sure I saw nobody--"
+
+"I think he will come presently," answered John in a reassuring tone.
+"Why do you wait, Mrs. Goddard? You must be cold, and it is dangerous for
+you to be out here. Don't wait, Reynolds," he added; "we will walk up."
+
+"Oh please don't," cried Mrs. Goddard, imploringly.
+
+John looked at her in some surprise. The cloud suddenly passed from
+before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly.
+He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he
+supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition. Reynolds
+on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but
+sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry,
+the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a
+feeble and antiquated fashion. For some minutes there was total silence.
+Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save
+the strong east wind rushing past the cottage and losing itself among the
+withered oaks of the park opposite.
+
+Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air.
+Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul!" The squire's ringing voice was heard far up the
+park. The bloodhound's distant baying suddenly ceased. John thought he
+heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the
+sighing wind. Then there was silence again. Mrs. Goddard leaned back
+against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed
+close to her mother's side.
+
+"Why--he has gone up the park!" exclaimed John in great surprise. "He was
+calling to his dog--"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Short!" cried Mrs. Goddard in agonised tones, as soon as she
+could speak, "I am sure something dreadful has happened--do go. Mr.
+Short--do go and see--"
+
+Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon
+John.
+
+"Stay with Mrs. Goddard, Reynolds," he said quickly and darted across the
+road towards the park gate. John was strong and active. He laid his
+hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the
+top of his speed up the dark avenue.
+
+Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone,
+swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel
+in the gloom. He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the
+afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he
+had felt before his guest's coming. But in the short walk of scarcely
+half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become
+entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. Goddard's strange position, and for
+the moment John was quite forgotten. He entered the park and the long
+iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a
+sharp click. Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly
+behind him. At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned
+sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground,
+where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere. As he came towards this
+hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him. Had the wind been
+in the opposite direction, Stamboul's sharp nostrils would have scented
+danger. As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire's
+heels. The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as
+has been seen, by a sweeping cloud. The squire turned to the right and
+tramped along the hard road.
+
+At the darkest spot in the way a man sprang out suddenly before him and
+struck a quick blow at his head with something heavy. But it was very
+dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded
+frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it passed
+and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side.
+At the same instant--it all happened in the space of two seconds,
+Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the
+shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent
+him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he
+leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the
+murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover
+himself and turn to spring again, Walter Goddard, who had chanced never
+to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and
+fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before
+the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the
+bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying
+note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the
+ditch and followed him into the gloom.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty
+yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream
+broke the silence.
+
+A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the
+prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no
+easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the
+moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees
+upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his
+heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for
+an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim
+limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul
+writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire
+glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering
+moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly
+wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was.
+
+It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man
+thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his
+strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was
+impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he
+should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the
+scene of the disaster.
+
+"Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park.
+
+"This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's
+quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a
+moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he
+saw.
+
+"Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he
+added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr.
+Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is
+alive?"
+
+John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by
+Goddard's body and looked into his face.
+
+"Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it
+seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or
+dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and
+felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all
+living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter
+Goddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not
+distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground.
+
+"I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and
+drew back a little way from the body.
+
+"Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon,
+and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul
+by his side.
+
+John shuddered when he was left alone. It was indeed a dismal scene
+enough. At his feet lay Walter Goddard's body, faintly illuminated by the
+struggling moonbeams; all around and overhead the east wind was howling
+and whistling and sighing in the dry oak branches, whirling hither and
+thither the few brown leaves that had clung to their hold throughout the
+long winter; the sound of the squire's rapidly retreating footsteps grew
+more faint in the distance; John felt that he was alone and was very
+uncomfortable. He would have liked to go back to the cottage and tell
+Mrs. Goddard of what had happened, and that Mr. Juxon was safe; but he
+thought the squire might return and find that he had left his post and
+accuse him of cowardice. He drew back from the man's body and sheltered
+himself from the wind, leaning against the broad trunk of an old oak
+tree. He had not stood thus many minutes when he heard the sound of
+wheels upon the hard road. It might be Mrs. Goddard, he thought. With one
+more glance at the prostrate body, he turned away and hurried through the
+trees towards the avenue. The bright lamps of the dog-cart were almost
+close before him. He shouted to Reynolds.
+
+"Whoa, January!" ejaculated that ancient functionary as he pulled up
+Strawberry close to John Short. Why the natives of Essex and especially
+of Billingsfield habitually address their beasts of burden as "January"
+is a matter best left to the discrimination of philologers; obedient to
+the familiar words however, Strawberry stood still in the middle of the
+road. John could see that Mrs. Goddard was seated by the side of Reynolds
+but that Nellie was not in the cart.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, is that you?" said John. "Mr. Juxon will be here in a
+moment. Don't be frightened--he is not hurt in the least; awfully bad
+luck for the tramp, though!"
+
+"The tramp?" repeated Mrs. Goddard with a faint cry of horror.
+
+"Yes," said John, whose spirits rose wonderfully in the light of the
+dog-cart lamps. "There was a poor tramp hanging about the park--poaching,
+very likely--and Mr. Juxon's dog got after him, somehow, I suppose. I do
+not know how it happened, but when I came up--oh! here is Mr. Juxon
+himself--he will tell you all about it."
+
+The squire came up in breathless haste, having locked Stamboul into the
+house.
+
+"Good Heavens! Mrs. Goddard!" he ejaculated in a tone of profound
+surprise. But Mrs. Goddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the
+step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's
+shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had
+fainted. The old man seemed not to comprehend what had happened; he
+had never experienced the sensation of having a lady leaning upon his
+shoulder, and he looked down at her with a half idiotic smile on his
+deeply furrowed face.
+
+"She's took wuss, sir," he remarked. "She was all for comin' up the park
+as soon as Master John was gone. She warn't feelin' herself o' no account
+t' evenin'."
+
+"Look here, Mr. Short," said the squire decisively. "I must ask you to
+take Mrs. Goddard home again and call her women to look after her. I
+fancy she will come to herself before long. Do you mind?"
+
+"Not in the least," said John cheerfully, mounting at the back of the
+dog-cart.
+
+"And--Reynolds--bring Mr. Short back to the Hall immediately, please, and
+you shall have some beer."
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+John supported the fainting lady with one arm, turning round upon his
+seat at the back. Old Strawberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and
+trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going
+home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter
+Goddard had fallen.
+
+The squire knelt down and tried to ascertain the extent of the man's
+injuries; as far as he could see there was a bad wound at his throat, and
+one hand was much mangled. But there seemed to have been no great flow of
+blood. He tore open the smock-frock and shirt and put his ear to the
+heart. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear it beat. Walter Goddard was
+alive still--alive to live for years perhaps, the squire reflected; to
+live in a prison, it was true, but to live. To describe his feelings in
+that moment would be impossible. Had he found the convict dead, it would
+be useless to deny that he would have felt a very great satisfaction,
+tempered perhaps by some pity for the wretched man's miserable end, but
+still very great. It would have seemed such a just end, after all; to be
+killed in the attempt to kill, and to have died not by the squire's hand
+but by the sharp strong jaws of the hound who had once before saved the
+squire's life. But he was alive. It would not take much to kill him; a
+little pressure on his wounded throat would be enough. Even to leave
+him there, uncared for, till morning in the bleak wind, lying upon the
+cold ground, would be almost certain to put an end to his life. But to
+the honour of Charles James Juxon be it said that such thoughts never
+crossed his mind. He pulled off his heavy ulster greatcoat, wrapped it
+about the felon's insensible body, then, kneeling, raised up his head and
+shoulders, got his strong arms well round him and with some difficulty
+rose to his feet. Once upright, it was no hard matter to carry his
+burthen through the trees to the road, and up the avenue to his own door.
+
+"Holmes," said Mr. Juxon to his butler, "this man is badly hurt, but he
+is alive. Help me to carry him upstairs."
+
+There was that in the squire's voice which brooked neither question nor
+delay when he was in earnest. The solemn butler took Walter Goddard by
+the feet and the squire took him by the shoulders; so they carried him up
+to a bedroom and laid him down, feeling for the bed in the dark as they
+moved. Holmes then lit a candle with great calmness.
+
+"Shall I send for the medical man, sir?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Yes. Send the gig as fast as possible. If he is not at home, or cannot
+be found, send on to the town. If anybody asks questions say the man is a
+tramp who attacked me in the park and Stamboul pulled him down. Send at
+once, and bring me some brandy and light the fire here."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Holmes, and left the room.
+
+Mr. Juxon lighted other candles and examined the injured man. There was
+now no doubt that he was alive. He breathed faintly but regularly; his
+pulse beat less rapidly and more firmly. His face was deadly pale and
+very thin, and his half-opened eyes stared unconsciously upwards, but
+they were not glazed nor death-like. He seemed to have lost little
+blood, comparatively speaking.
+
+"Bah!" ejaculated the squire. "I believe he is only badly frightened,
+after all."
+
+Holmes brought brandy and warm water and again left the room. Mr. Juxon
+bathed Goddard's face and neck with a sponge, eying him suspiciously all
+the while. It would not have surprised him at any moment if he had leaped
+from the bed and attempted to escape. To guard against surprise, the
+squire locked the door and put the key in his pocket, watching the
+convict to see whether he noticed the act or was really unconscious. But
+Goddard never moved nor turned his motionless eyeballs. Mr. Juxon
+returned to his side, and with infinite care began to remove his clothes.
+They were almost in rags. He examined each article, and was surprised to
+find money in the pockets, amounting to nearly sixty pounds; then he
+smiled to himself, remembering that the convict had visited his wife and
+had doubtless got the money from her to aid him in his escape. He put the
+notes and gold carefully together in a drawer after counting them, and
+returning to his occupation succeeded at last in putting Goddard to bed,
+after staunching his wounds as well as he could with handkerchiefs.
+
+He stood long by the bedside, watching the man's regular breathing, and
+examining his face attentively. Many strange thoughts passed through his
+mind, as he stood there, looking at the man who had caused such misery to
+himself, such shame and sorrow to his fair wife, such disappointment to
+the honest man who was now trying to save him from the very grasp of
+death. So this was Mary Goddard's husband, little Nellie's father--this
+grimy wretch, whose foul rags lay heaped there in the corner, whose
+miserable head pressed the spotless linen of the pillow, whose
+half-closed eyes stared up so senselessly at the squire's face. This was
+the man for whose sake Mary Goddard started and turned pale, fainted and
+grew sick, languished and suffered so much pain. No wonder she concealed
+it from Nellie--no wonder she had feared lest after many years he should
+come back and claim her for his wife--no wonder either that a man with
+such a face should do bad deeds.
+
+Mr. Juxon was a judge of faces; persons accustomed for many years to
+command men usually are. He noted Walter Goddard's narrow jaw and pointed
+chin, his eyes set near together, his wicked lips, parted and revealing
+sharp jagged teeth, his ill-shaped ears and shallow temples, his flat low
+forehead, shown off by his cropped hair. And yet this man had once been
+called handsome, he had been admired and courted. But then his hair had
+hidden the shape of his head, his long golden moustache had covered his
+mouth and disguised all his lower features, he had been arrayed by
+tailors of artistic merit, and he had had much gold in his pockets. He
+was a very different object now--the escaped convict, close cropped, with
+a half-grown beard upon his ill-shaped face, and for all ornament a linen
+sheet drawn up under his chin.
+
+The squire was surprised that he did not recover consciousness, seeing
+that he breathed regularly and was no longer so pale as at first. A faint
+flush seemed to rise to his sunken cheeks, and for a long time Mr. Juxon
+stood beside him, expecting every moment that he would speak. Once he
+thought his lips moved a little. Then Mr. Juxon took a little brandy in a
+spoon and raising his head poured it down his throat. The effect was
+immediate. Goddard opened wide his eyes, the blood mounted to his cheeks
+with a deep flush, and he uttered an inarticulate sound.
+
+"What did you say?" asked the squire, bending over him.
+
+But there was no answer. The sick man's head fell back upon the pillow,
+though his eyes remained wide open and the flush did not leave his
+cheeks. His pulse was now very high, and his breathing grew heavy and
+stertorous.
+
+"I hope I have not made him any worse," remarked Mr. Juxon aloud, as he
+contemplated his patient. "But if he is going to die, I wish he would die
+now."
+
+The thought was charitable, on the whole. If Walter Goddard died then and
+there, he would be buried in a nameless grave under the shadow of the
+old church; no one would ever know that he was the celebrated forger, the
+escaped convict, the husband of Mary Goddard. If he lived--heaven alone
+knew what complications would follow if he lived.
+
+There was a knock at the door. Mr. Juxon drew the key from his pocket and
+opened it. Holmes the butler stood outside.
+
+"Mr. Short has come back, sir. He asked if you wished to see him."
+
+"Ask him to come here," replied the squire, to whom the tension of
+keeping his solitary watch was becoming very irksome. In a few moments
+John entered the room, looking pale and nervous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+John Short was in absolute ignorance of what was occurring. He attributed
+Mrs. Goddard's anxiety to her solicitude for Mr. Juxon, and if he had
+found time to give the matter serious consideration, he would have argued
+very naturally that she was fond of the squire. It had been less easy
+than the latter had supposed to take her home and persuade her to stay
+there, for she was in a state in which she hardly understood reason.
+Nothing but John's repeated assurances to the effect that Mr. Juxon was
+not in the least hurt, and that he would send her word of the condition
+of the wounded tramp, prevailed upon her to remain at the cottage; for
+she had come back to consciousness before the dog-cart was fairly out of
+the park and had almost refused to enter her own home.
+
+The catastrophe had happened, after eight and forty hours of suspense,
+and her position was one of extreme fear and doubt. She had indeed seen
+the squire at the very moment when she fainted, but the impression was
+uncertain as that of a dream, and it required all John's asseverations to
+persuade her that Mr. Juxon had actually met her and insisted that she
+should return to the cottage. Once there, in her own house, she abandoned
+herself to the wildest excitement, shutting herself into the drawing-room
+and refusing to see anyone; she gave way to all her sorrow and fear,
+feeling that if she controlled herself any longer she must go mad. Indeed
+it was the best thing she could do, for her nerves were overstrained, and
+the hysterical weeping which now completely overpowered her for some
+time, was the natural relief to her overwrought system. She had not the
+slightest doubt that the tramp of whom John had spoken, and whom he had
+described as badly hurt, was her husband; and together with her joy at
+Mr. Juxon's escape, she felt an intolerable anxiety to know Walter's
+fate. If in ordinary circumstances she had been informed that he had died
+in prison, it would have been absurd to expect her to give way to any
+expressions of excessive grief; she would perhaps have shed a few womanly
+tears and for some time she would have been more sad than usual; but she
+no longer loved him and his death could only be regarded as a release
+from all manner of trouble and shame and evil foreboding. With his
+decease would have ended her fears for poor Nellie, her apprehensions for
+the future in case he should return and claim her, the whole weight of
+her humiliation, and if she was too kind to have rejoiced over such a
+termination of her woes, she was yet too sensible not to have fully
+understood and appreciated the fact of her liberation and of the freedom
+given to the child she loved, by the death of a father whose return could
+bring nothing but disgrace. But now she did not know whether Walter were
+alive or dead. If he was alive he was probably so much injured as to
+preclude all possibility of his escaping, and he must inevitably be given
+up to justice, no longer to imprisonment merely, but by his own
+confession to suffer the death of a murderer. If on the other hand he
+was already dead, he had died a death less shameful indeed, but of which
+the circumstances were too horrible for his wife to contemplate, for he
+must have been torn to pieces by Stamboul the bloodhound.
+
+She unconsciously comprehended all these considerations, which entirely
+deprived her of the power to weigh them in her mind, for her mind was
+temporarily loosed from all control of the reasoning faculty. She had
+borne much during the last three days, but she could bear no more;
+intellect and sensibility were alike exhausted and gave way together.
+There were indeed moments, intervals in the fits of hysteric tears
+and acute mental torture, when she lay quite still in her chair and
+vaguely asked herself what it all meant, but her disturbed consciousness
+gave no answer to the question, and presently her tears broke out afresh
+and she tossed wildly from side to side, or walked hurriedly up and down
+the room, wringing her hands in despair, sobbing aloud in her agony and
+again abandoning herself to the uncontrolled exaggerations of her grief
+and terror. One consolation alone presented itself at intervals to her
+confused intelligence; Mr. Juxon was safe. Whatever other fearful thing
+had happened, he was safe, saved perhaps by her warning--but what was
+that, if Walter had escaped death only to die at the hands of the
+hangman, or had found it in the jaws of that fearful bloodhound? What was
+the safety even of her best friend, if poor Nellie was to know that her
+father was alive, only to learn that he was to die again?
+
+But human suffering cannot outlast human strength; as a marvellous
+adjustment of forces has ordered that even at the pole, in the regions of
+boundless and perpetual cold, the sea shall not freeze to the bottom, so
+there is also in human nature a point beyond which suffering cannot
+extend. The wildest emotions must expend themselves in time, the fiercest
+passions must burn out. At the end of two hours Mary Goddard was
+exhausted by the vehemence of her hysteric fear, and woke as from a dream
+to a dull sense of reality. She knew, now that some power of reflection
+was restored to her, that the squire would give her intelligence of what
+had happened, so soon as he was able, and she knew also that she must
+wait until the morning before any such message could reach her. She took
+the candle from the table and went upstairs. Nellie was asleep, but her
+mother felt a longing to look at her again that night, not knowing what
+misery for her child the morrow might bring forth.
+
+Nellie lay asleep in her bed, her rich brown hair plaited together and
+thrown back across the pillow. The long dark fringes of her eyelashes
+cast a shade upon the transparent colour of her cheek, and the light
+breath came softly through her parted lips. But as Mary Goddard looked
+she saw that there were still tears upon her lovely face and that the
+pillow was still wet. She had cried herself to sleep, for Martha had told
+her that her mother was very ill and would not see her that night; Nellie
+was accustomed to say her prayers at her mother's knee every evening
+before going to bed, she was used to having her mother smooth her pillow
+and kiss her and put out her light, leaving her with sweet words, to wake
+her with sweet words on the next morning, and to-night she had missed all
+this and had been told moreover that her mother was very ill and was
+acting very strangely. She had gone to bed and had cried herself to
+sleep, and the tears were still upon her cheeks. Shading the light
+carefully from the child's eyes, Mary Goddard bent down and kissed her
+forehead once and then feeling that her sorrow was rising again she
+turned and passed noiselessly from the room.
+
+But Nellie was dreaming peacefully and knew nothing of her mother's
+visit; she slept on not knowing that scarcely a quarter of a mile away
+her own father, whom she had been taught to think of as dead, was
+lying at the Hall, wounded and unconscious while half the detectives in
+the kingdom were looking for him. Had Nellie known that, her sleep would
+have been little and her dreams few.
+
+There was little rest at the Hall that night. When Reynolds had driven
+John back to the great house he found his way to the kitchen and got his
+beer, and he became at once a centre of interest, being overwhelmed with
+questions concerning the events of the evening. But he was able to say
+very little except that while waiting before the cottage he had heard
+strange noises from the park, that Master John had run up the avenue,
+that Mrs. Goddard had taken Miss Nellie into the house and had then
+insisted upon being driven towards the Hall, that they had met Master
+John and the squire and that Mrs. Goddard had been "took wuss."
+
+Meanwhile John entered the room where Mr. Juxon was watching over Walter
+Goddard. John looked pale and nervous; he had not recovered from the
+unpleasant sensation of being left alone with what he believed to be a
+dead body, in the struggling moonlight and the howling wind. He was by no
+means timid by nature, but young nerves are not so tough as old ones and
+he had felt exceedingly uncomfortable. He stood a moment within the room,
+then glanced at the bed and started with surprise.
+
+"Why--he is not dead after all!" he exclaimed, and going nearer he looked
+hard at Goddard's flushed face.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon, "he is not dead. He may be dying for all I know. I
+have sent for the doctor."
+
+"Was he much hurt?" asked John, still looking at the sick man. "He looks
+to me as though he were in a fever."
+
+"He does not seem so badly hurt. I cannot make it out at all. At first I
+thought he was badly frightened, but I cannot bring him to consciousness.
+Perhaps he has a fever, as you say. This is a most unpleasant experience,
+Mr. Short--your first night at the Hall, too. Of course I am bound to
+look after the man, as Stamboul did the damage--it would have served him
+right if he had been killed. It was a villainous blow he gave me--I can
+feel it still. The moral of it is that one should always wear a thick
+ulster when one walks alone at night."
+
+"I did not know he struck you," said John in some surprise.
+
+"Jumped out of the copse at the turning and struck at me with a
+bludgeon," said Mr. Juxon. "Knocked my hat off, into the bargain, and
+then ran away with Stamboul after him. If I had not come up in time
+there would have been nothing left of him."
+
+"I should say the dog saved your life," remarked John, much impressed by
+the squire's unadorned tale. "What object can the fellow have had in
+attacking you? Strange--his eyes are open, but he does not seem to
+understand us."
+
+Mr. Juxon walked to the bedside and contemplated the sick man's features
+with undisguised disgust.
+
+"You villain!" he said roughly. "Why don't you answer for yourself?" The
+man did not move, and the squire began to pace the room. John was struck
+by Mr. Juxon's tone: it was not like him, he thought, to speak in that
+way to a helpless creature. He could not understand it. There was a long
+silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Goddard.
+
+"Really, Mr. Short," said the squire at last, "I have no intention of
+keeping you up all night. The village doctor must have been out. It may
+be more than an hour before my man finds another."
+
+"Never mind," said John quietly. "I will wait till he comes at all
+events. You may need me before it is over."
+
+"Do you think he looks as if he were going to die?" asked the squire
+doubtfully, as he again approached the bedside.
+
+"I don't know," answered John, standing on the other side. "I never saw
+any one die. He looks very ill."
+
+"Very ill. I have seen many people die--but somehow I have a strong
+impression that this fellow will live."
+
+"Let us hope so," said John.
+
+"Well--" The squire checked himself. Probably the hope he would have
+expressed would not have coincided with that to which John had given
+utterance. "Well," he repeated, "I daresay he will. Mr. Short, are you at
+all nervous? Since you are so good as to say you will wait until the
+doctor comes, would you mind very much being left alone here for five
+minutes?"
+
+"No," answered John, stoutly, "not in the least." To be left in a
+well-lighted room by the bedside of Walter Goddard, ill indeed, but alive
+and breathing vigorously, was very different from being requested to
+watch his apparently dead body out in the park under the moonlight.
+
+With a word of thanks, the squire left the room, and hastened to his
+study, where he proceeded to write a note, as follows:--
+
+"MY DEAR MR. AMBROSE--The man we were speaking of yesterday morning
+actually attacked me this evening. Stamboul worried him badly, but he is
+not dead. He is lying here, well cared for, and I have sent for the
+doctor. If convenient to you, would you come in the morning? I need not
+recommend discretion.--Sincerely yours,
+
+"C.J. JUXON.
+_N.B._--I am not hurt."
+
+Having ascertained that Reynolds was still in the kitchen, the missive
+was given to the old man with an injunction to use all speed, as the
+vicar might be going to bed and the note was important.
+
+John, meanwhile, being left alone sat down near the wounded man's bed and
+waited, glancing at the flushed face and staring eyes from time to time,
+and wondering whether the fellow would recover. The young scholar had
+been startled by all that had occurred, and his ideas wandered back to
+the beginning of the evening, scarcely realising that a few hours ago he
+had not met Mrs. Goddard, had not experienced a surprising change in his
+feelings towards her, had not witnessed the strange scene under the
+trees. It seemed as though all these things had occupied a week at the
+very least, whereas on that same afternoon he had been speculating upon
+his meeting with Mrs. Goddard, calling up her features to his mind as he
+had last seen them, framing speeches which when the meeting came he had
+not delivered, letting his mind run riot in the delicious anticipation of
+appearing before her in the light of a successful competitor for one of
+the greatest honours of English scholarship. And yet in a few hours all
+his feelings were changed, and to his infinite surprise, were changed
+without any suffering to himself; he knew well that, for some reason,
+Mrs. Goddard had lost the mysterious power of making him blush, and of
+sending strange thrills through his whole nature when he sat at her side;
+with some justice he attributed his new indifference to the extraordinary
+alteration in her appearance, whereby she seemed now so much older than
+himself, and he forthwith moralised upon the mutability of human affairs,
+with all the mental fluency of a very young man whose affairs are still
+extremely mutable. He fell to musing on the accident in the park,
+wondering how he would have acted in Mr. Juxon's place, wondering
+especially what object could have led the wretched tramp to attack the
+squire, wondering too at the very great anxiety shown by Mrs. Goddard.
+
+As he sat by the bedside, the sick man suddenly moved and turning his
+eyes full upon John's face stared at him with a look of dazed surprise.
+He thrust out his wounded hand, bound up in a white handkerchief through
+which a little blood was slowly oozing, and to John's infinite surprise
+he spoke.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked in a strange, mumbling voice, as though he had
+pebbles in his mouth.
+
+John started forward in his chair and looked intently at Goddard's face.
+
+"My name is Short," he answered mechanically. But the passing flash of
+intelligence was already gone, and Goddard's look became a glassy and
+idiotic stare. Still his lips moved. John came nearer and listened.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" said the sick man quite
+intelligibly, in spite of his uncertain tone. John uttered an exclamation
+of astonishment; his heart beat fast and he listened intently. The sick
+man mumbled inarticulate sounds; not another word could be distinguished.
+John looked for the bell, thinking that Mr. Juxon should be informed of
+the strange phenomenon at once; but before he could ring the squire
+himself entered the room, having finished and despatched his note to Mr.
+Ambrose.
+
+"It is most extraordinary," said John. "He spoke just now--"
+
+"What did he say?" asked Mr. Juxon very quickly.
+
+"He said first, 'Who are you?' and then he said 'Mary Goddard, let me
+in!' Is it not most extraordinary? How in the world should he know
+about Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+The squire turned a little pale and was silent for a moment. He had left
+John with the wounded man feeling sure that, for some time at least, the
+latter would not be likely to say anything intelligible.
+
+"Most extraordinary!" he repeated presently. Then he looked at Goddard
+closely, and turned him again upon his back and put his injured hand
+beneath the sheet.
+
+"Do you understand me? Do you know who I am?" he asked in a loud tone
+close to his ear.
+
+But the unfortunate man gave no sign of intelligence, only his
+inarticulate mumbling grew louder though not more distinct. Mr. Juxon
+turned away impatiently.
+
+"The fellow is in a delirium," he said. "I wish the doctor would come."
+He had hardly turned his back when the man spoke again.
+
+"Mary Goddard!" he cried. "Let me in!"
+
+"There!" said John. "The same words!"
+
+Mr. Juxon shuddered, and looked curiously at his companion; then thrust
+his hands into his pockets and whistling softly walked about the room.
+John was shocked at what seemed in the squire a sort of indecent levity;
+he could not understand that his friend felt as though he should go mad.
+
+Indeed the squire suffered intensely. The name of Mary Goddard,
+pronounced by the convict in his delirium brought home more vividly than
+anything could have done the relation between the wounded tramp and the
+woman the squire loved. It was positively true, then--there was not a
+shadow of doubt left, since this wretch lay there mumbling her name in
+his ravings! This was the husband of that gentle creature with sad
+pathetic eyes, so delicate, so refined that it seemed as though the
+coarser breath of the world of sin and shame could never come near
+her--this was her husband! It was horrible. This was the father of lovely
+Nellie, too. Was anything wanting to make the contrast more hideous?
+
+Mr. Juxon felt that it was impossible to foresee what Walter Goddard
+might say in the course of another hour. He had often seen people in a
+delirium and knew how strangely that inarticulate murmuring sometimes
+breaks off into sudden incisive speech, astonishing every one who hears.
+The man had already betrayed that he knew Mary Goddard; at the next
+interval in his ravings he might betray that she was his wife. John was
+still standing by the bedside, not having recovered from his
+astonishment; if John heard any more, he would be in possession of Mrs.
+Goddard's secret. The squire was an energetic man, equal to most
+emergencies; he suddenly made up his mind.
+
+"Mr. Short," he said, "I will tell you something. You will see the
+propriety of being very discreet, in fact it is only to ensure your
+discretion that I wish to tell you this much. I have reason to believe
+that this fellow is a convict--do not be surprised--escaped from prison.
+He is a man who once--was in love with Mrs. Goddard, which accounts for
+his having found his way to Billingsfield. Yes--I know what you are going
+to say--Mrs. Goddard is aware of his presence, and that accounts for her
+excitement and her fainting. Do you understand?"
+
+"But--good heavens!" exclaimed John in amazement. "Why did she not give
+information, if she knew he was in the neighbourhood?"
+
+"That would be more than could be expected of any woman, Mr. Short. You
+forget that the man once loved her."
+
+"And how did you--well, no. I won't ask any questions."
+
+"No," said the squire, "please don't. You would be placing me in a
+disagreeable position. Not that I do not trust you implicitly, Mr.
+Short," he added frankly, "but I should be betraying a confidence. If
+this fellow dies here, he will be buried as an unknown tramp. I found no
+trace of a name upon his clothes. If he recovers, we will decide what
+course to pursue. We will do our best for him--it is a delicate case of
+conscience. Possibly the poor fellow would very much prefer being allowed
+to die; but we cannot let him. Humanity, for some unexplained reason,
+forbids euthanasia and the use of the hemlock in such cases."
+
+"Was he sentenced for a long time?" asked John, very much impressed by
+the gravity of the situation.
+
+"Twelve years originally, I believe. Aggravated by his escape and by his
+assault on me, his term might very likely be extended to twenty years if
+he were taken again."
+
+"That is to say, if he recovers?" inquired John.
+
+"Precisely. I do not think I would hesitate to send him back to prison if
+he recovered."
+
+"I do not wonder you think he would rather die here, if he were
+consulted," said John. "It would not be murder to let him die
+peacefully--"
+
+"In the opinion of the law it might be called manslaughter, though I do
+not suppose anything would be said if I had simply placed him here and
+omitted to call in a physician. He cannot live very long in this state,
+unless something is done for him immediately. Look at him."
+
+There was no apparent change in Goddard's condition. He lay upon his back
+staring straight upward and mumbling aloud with every breath he drew.
+
+"He must have been ill, before he attacked me," continued Mr. Juxon, very
+much as though he were talking to himself. "He evidently is in a raging
+fever--brain fever I should think. That is probably the reason why he
+missed his aim--that and the darkness. If he had been well he would have
+killed me fast enough with that bludgeon. As you say, Mr. Short, there is
+no doubt whatever that he would prefer to die here, if he had his choice.
+In my opinion, too, it would be far more merciful to him and to--to him
+in fact. Nevertheless, neither you nor I would like to remember that we
+had let him die without doing all we could to keep him alive. It is
+a very singular case."
+
+"Most singular," echoed John.
+
+"Besides--there is another thing. Suppose that he had attacked me as he
+did, but that I had killed him with my stick--or that Stamboul had made
+an end of him then and there. The law would have said it served him
+right--would it not? Of course. But if I had not quite killed him, or, as
+has actually happened, he survived the embraces of my dog, the law
+insists that I ought to do everything in my power to save the remnant of
+his life. What for? In order that the law may give itself the
+satisfaction of dealing with him according to its lights. I think the law
+is very greedy, I object to it, I think it is ridiculous from that point
+of view, but then, when I come to examine the thing I find that my own
+conscience tells me to save him, although I think it best that he should
+die. Therefore the law is not ridiculous. Pleasant dilemma--the
+impossible case! The law is at the same time ridiculous and not
+ridiculous. The question is, does the law deduce itself from conscience,
+or is conscience the direct result of existing law?"
+
+The squire appeared to be in a strangely moralising mood, and John
+listened to him with some surprise. He could not understand that the good
+man was talking to persuade himself, and to concentrate his faculties,
+which had been almost unbalanced by the events of the evening.
+
+"I think," said John with remarkable good sense, "that the instinct of
+man is to preserve life when he is calm. When a man is fighting with
+another he is hot and tries to kill his enemy; when the fight is over,
+the natural instinct returns."
+
+"The only thing worth knowing in such cases is the precise point at which
+the fight may be said to be over. I once knew a young surgeon in India
+who thought he had killed a cobra and proceeded to extract the fangs in
+order to examine the poison. Unfortunately the snake was not quite dead;
+he bit the surgeon in the finger and the poor fellow died in
+thirty-five minutes."
+
+"Dreadful!" said John. "But you do not think this poor fellow could do
+anything very dangerous now--do you?"
+
+"Oh, dear me, no!" returned the squire. "I was only stating a case to
+prove that one is sometimes justified in going quite to the end of a
+fight. No indeed! He will not be dangerous for some time, if he ever is
+again. But, as I was saying, he must have been ill some time. Delirium
+never comes on in this way, so soon--"
+
+Some one knocked at the door. It was Holmes, who came to say that the
+physician, Doctor Longstreet, had arrived.
+
+"Oh--it is Doctor Longstreet is it?" said the squire. "Ask him to come
+up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Doctor Longstreet was not the freethinking physician of Billingsfield.
+The latter was out when Mr. Juxon's groom went in search of him, and the
+man had driven on to the town, six miles away. The doctor was an old man
+with a bright eye, a deeply furrowed forehead, a bald head and clean
+shaved face. He walked as though his frame were set together with springs
+and there was a curious snapping quickness in his speech. He seemed full
+of vitality and bore his years with a jaunty air of merriment which
+inspired confidence, for he seemed perpetually laughing at the ills of
+the flesh and ready to make other people laugh at them too. But his
+bright eyes had a penetrating look and though he judged quickly he
+generally was right in his opinion. He entered the room briskly, not
+knowing that the sick man was there.
+
+"Now, Mr. Juxon," he said cheerfully, "I am with you." He had the habit
+of announcing his presence in this fashion, as though his brisk and
+active personality were likely to be overlooked. A moment later he caught
+sight of the bed. "Dear me," he added in a lower voice, "I did not know
+our patient was here."
+
+He went to Walter Goddard's side, looked at him attentively, felt his
+pulse, and his forehead, glanced at the bandages the squire had roughly
+put upon his throat and hand, drew up the sheet again beneath his chin
+and turned sharply round.
+
+"Brain fever, sir," he said cheerfully. "Brain fever. You must get some
+ice and have some beef tea made as soon as possible. He is in a very
+bad way--curious, too; he looks like a cross between a ticket of leave
+man and a gentleman. Tramp, you say? That would not prevent his being
+either. You cannot disturb him--don't be afraid. He hears nothing--is
+off, the Lord knows where, raving delirious. Must look to his scratches
+though--dangerous--inflammation. Do you mind telling me what
+happened--how long he has been here?"
+
+The squire in a few words informed Doctor Longstreet of the attack made
+upon him in the park. The doctor looked at his watch.
+
+"Only two hours and a half since," he remarked. "It is just midnight now,
+very good--the man must have been in a fever all day--yesterday, too,
+perhaps. He is not badly hurt by the dog--like to see that dog, if you
+don't mind--the fright most likely sent him into delirium. You have
+nothing to accuse yourself of, Mr. Juxon: it was certainly not your
+fault. Even if the dog had not bitten him, he would most likely have been
+in his present state by this time. Would you mind sending for some ice at
+once? Thank you. It was very lucky for the fellow that he attacked you
+just when he did--secured him the chance of being well taken care of. If
+he had gone off like this in the park he would have been dead before
+morning."
+
+The squire rang and sent for the ice the doctor demanded.
+
+"Do you think he will live?" he asked nervously.
+
+"I don't know," answered Doctor Longstreet, frankly. "Nobody can tell. He
+is very much exhausted--may live two or three days in this state and then
+die or go to sleep and get well--may die in the morning--often do--cannot
+say. With a great deal of care, I think he has a chance."
+
+"I am very anxious to save him," said the squire, looking hard at the
+physician.
+
+"Very good of you, I am sure," replied Doctor Longstreet, cheerfully. "It
+is not everybody who would take so much trouble for a tramp. Of course if
+he dies people will say your dog killed him; but I will sign a paper to
+the effect that it is not true. If he had left you and your dog alone, he
+would have been dead in the morning to an absolute certainty."
+
+"How very extraordinary!" exclaimed the squire, suddenly realising that
+instead of causing the man's death Stamboul had perhaps saved his life.
+
+"It was certainly very odd that he should have chosen the best moment for
+assaulting you," continued the doctor. "It is quite possible that even
+then he was under some delusion--took you for somebody else--some old
+enemy. People do queer things in a brain fever. By the bye has he said
+anything intelligible since he has been here?"
+
+John Short who had been standing silently by the bedside during the whole
+interview looked up quickly at the squire, wondering how he would answer.
+But Mr. Juxon did not hesitate.
+
+"Yes. Twice he repeated a woman's name. That is very natural, I suppose.
+Do you think he will have any lucid moments for some time?"
+
+"May," said the doctor, "may. When he does it is likely to be at the
+turning point; he will either die or be better very soon after. If it
+comes soon he may say something intelligible. If he is much more
+exhausted than he is now, he will understand you, but you will not
+understand him. Meningitis always brings a partial paralysis of the
+tongue, when the patient is exhausted. Most probably he will go on
+moaning and mumbling, as he does now, for another day. You will be able
+to tell by his eye whether he understands anything; perhaps he will make
+some sign with his head or hand. Ah--here is the ice."
+
+Doctor Longstreet went about his operations in a rapid and business like
+fashion and John gave what assistance he could. The squire stood leaning
+against the chimney-piece in deep thought.
+
+Indeed he had enough to think of, when he had fully weighed the meaning
+of the doctor's words. He was surprised beyond measure at the turn things
+had taken; for although, as he had previously told John, he suspected
+that Goddard must have been in a fever for several hours before the
+assault, it had not struck him that Stamboul's attack had been absolutely
+harmless, still less that it might prove to have been the means of saving
+the convict's life. It was terribly hard to say that he desired to save
+the man, and yet the honest man in his heart prayed that he might really
+hope for that result. It would be far worse, should Goddard die, to
+remember that he had wished for his death. But it would be hard to
+imagine a more unexpected position than that in which the squire found
+himself; by a perfectly natural chain of circumstances he was now tending
+with the utmost care the man who had tried to murder him, and who of all
+men in the world, stood most in the way of the accomplishment of his
+desires.
+
+He could not hide from himself the fact that he hated the sick man, even
+though he hoped, or tried to hope for his recovery. He hated him for the
+shame and suffering he had brought upon Mary Goddard in the first
+instance, for the terrible anxiety he had caused her by his escape and
+sudden appearance at her house; he hated him for being what he was, being
+also the father of Nellie, and he hated him honestly for his base attempt
+upon himself that night. He had good cause to hate him, and perhaps he
+was not ashamed of his hatred. To be called upon, however, to return good
+for such an accumulated mass of evil was almost too much for his human
+nature. It was but a faint satisfaction to think that if he recovered he
+was to be sent back to prison. Mr. Juxon did not know that there was
+blood upon the man's hands--he had yet to learn that; he would not deign
+to mention the assault in the park when he handed him over to the
+authorities; the man should simply go back to Portland to suffer the term
+of his imprisonment, as soon as he should be well enough to be moved--if
+that time ever came. If he died, he should be buried decently in a
+nameless grave, "six feet by four, by two," as Thomas Reid would have
+said--if he died.
+
+Meanwhile, however, there was yet another consideration which disturbed
+the squire's meditations. Mrs. Goddard had a right to know that her
+husband was dying and, if she so pleased, she had a right to be at his
+bedside. But at the same time it would be necessary so to account for her
+presence as not to arouse Doctor Longstreet's suspicions, nor the
+comments of Holmes, the butler, and of his brigade in the servants' hall.
+It was no easy matter to do this unless Mrs. Goddard were accompanied by
+the vicar's wife, the excellent and maternally minded Mrs. Ambrose. To
+accomplish this it would be necessary to ask the latter lady to spend a
+great part of her time at the Hall in taking care of the wretched
+Goddard, who would again be the gainer. But Mrs. Ambrose was as yet
+ignorant of the fact that he had escaped from prison; she must be told
+then, and an effort must be made to elicit her sympathy. Perhaps she and
+the vicar would come and stop a few days, thought the squire. Mrs.
+Goddard might then come and go as she pleased. Her presence by her
+husband's bedside would then be accounted for on the ground of her
+charitable disposition.
+
+While Mr. Juxon was revolving these things in his mind he watched the
+doctor and John who were doing what was necessary for the sick man.
+Goddard moaned helplessly with every breath, in a loud, monotonous tone,
+very wearing to the nerves of those who heard it.
+
+"There is little to be done," said Doctor Longstreet at last. "He must be
+fed--alternately a little beef tea and then a little weak brandy and
+water. We must try and keep the system up. That is his only chance. I
+will prescribe something and send it back by the groom."
+
+"You are not going to leave us to-night?" exclaimed the squire in alarm.
+
+"Must. Very sorry. Bad case of diphtheria in town--probably die before
+morning, unless I get there in time--I would not have come here for any
+one else. I will certainly be here before ten--he will live till then, I
+fancy, and I don't believe there will be any change in his condition.
+Good-night, Mr. Juxon--beef tea and brandy every quarter of an hour.
+Good-night, Mr.--" he turned to John.
+
+"Short," said John. "Good-night, doctor."
+
+"Ah--I remember--used to be with Mr. Ambrose--yes. Delighted to meet you
+again, Mr. Short--good-night."
+
+The doctor vanished, before either the squire or John had time to follow
+him. His departure left an unpleasant sense of renewed responsibility in
+the squire's mind.
+
+"You had better go to bed, Mr. Short," he said kindly. "I will sit up
+with him."
+
+But John would not hear of any such arrangement; he insisted upon bearing
+his share of the watching and stoutly refused to leave the squire alone.
+There was a large dressing-room attached to the room where Goddard was
+lying; the squire and John finally agreed to watch turn and turn about,
+one remaining with Goddard, while the other rested upon the couch in the
+dressing-room aforesaid. The squire insisted upon taking his watch first,
+and John lay down. It was past midnight and he was very tired, but it
+seemed impossible to sleep with the sound of that loud, monotonous
+mumbling perpetually in his ears. It was a horrible night, and John Short
+never forgot it so long as he lived. Years afterwards he could not enter
+the room where Goddard had lain without fancying he heard that perpetual
+groaning still ringing in his ears. For many hours it continued unabated
+and unchanging, never dying away to silence nor developing to articulate
+words. From time to time John could hear the squire's step as he moved
+about, administering the nourishment prescribed. If he had had the
+slightest idea of Mr. Juxon's state of mind he would hardly have left him
+even to rest awhile in the next room.
+
+Fortunately the squire's nerves were solid. A firm constitution hardened
+by thirty years of seafaring and by the consistent and temperate
+regularity which was part of his character, had so toughened his natural
+strength as to put him almost beyond the reach of mortal ills; otherwise
+he must have broken down under the mental strain thus forced upon him. It
+is no light thing to do faithfully the utmost to save a man one has good
+reason to hate, and whose death would be an undoubted blessing to every
+one who has anything to do with him. Walter Goddard was to Charles Juxon
+at once an enemy, an obstacle and a rival; an enemy, for having attempted
+his life, an obstacle, because while he lived he prevented the squire
+from marrying Mrs. Goddard and a rival because she had once loved him and
+for the sake of that love was still willing to sacrifice much for him.
+And yet the very fact that she had loved him made it easier to be kind to
+him; it seemed to the squire that, after all, in taking care of Goddard
+he was in some measure serving her, too, seeing that she would have done
+the same thing herself could she have been present.
+
+Yet there was something very generous and large-hearted in the way
+Charles Juxon did his duty by the sick man. There are people who seem by
+nature designed to act heroic parts in life, whose actions habitually
+take an heroic form, and whose whole character is of another stamp from
+that of average humanity. Of such people much is expected, because they
+seem to offer much; no one is surprised to hear of their making great
+sacrifices, no one is astonished if they exhibit great personal courage
+in times of danger. Very often they are people of large vanity, whose
+chiefest vanity is not to seem vain; gifted with great powers and always
+seeking opportunities of using them, holding high ideas upon most
+subjects but rarely conceiving themselves incapable of attaining to any
+ideal they select for their admiration; brave in combat partly from real
+courage, partly, as I have often heard officers say of a dandy soldier in
+the ranks, because they are too proud to run away; but, on the whole,
+heroic by temperament and in virtue of a singular compound of pride,
+strength and virtue, often accomplishing really great things. They are
+almost always what are called striking people, for their pride and their
+strength generally attract attention by their magnitude, and something in
+their mere appearance distinguishes them from the average mass.
+
+But Charles Juxon did not in any way belong to this type, any more than
+the other persons who found themselves concerned in the events which
+culminated in Goddard's illness. He was a very simple man whose pride was
+wholly unconscious, who did not believe himself destined to do anything
+remarkable, who regarded his own personality as rather uninteresting and
+who, had he been asked about himself, would have been the first to
+disclaim any sentiments of the heroic kind. With very little imagination,
+he possessed great stability himself and great belief in the stability of
+things in general, a character of the traditional kind known as
+"northern," though it would be much more just to describe it as the
+"temperate" or "central" type of man. Wherever there is exaggeration in
+nature, there is exaggerated imagination in man. The solid and
+unimaginative part of the English character is undeniably derived from
+the Angles or from the Flemish; it is morally the best part, but it is by
+all odds the least interesting--it is found in the type of man belonging
+to the plains in a temperate zone, who differs in every respect from the
+real northman, his distant cousin and hereditary enemy. If Charles Juxon
+was remarkable for anything it was for his modesty and reticence, in a
+word, for his apparent determination not to be remarkable at all.
+
+And now, in the extremest anxiety and difficulty, his character served
+him well; for he unconsciously refused to allow to himself that his
+position was extraordinary or his responsibility greater than he was
+able to bear. He disliked intensely the idea of being put forward or
+thrust into a dramatic situation, and he consequently failed signally to
+fulfil the dramatic necessities. There was not even a struggle in his
+heart between the opposite possibilities of letting Goddard die, by
+merely relaxing his attention, and of redoubling his care and bringing
+about his recovery. He never once asked himself, after the chances of the
+patient surviving the fever were stated, whether he would not be
+justified in sending for some honest housewife from the village to take
+care of the tramp instead of looking to his wants himself. He simply did
+his best to save the man's life, without hesitation, without suspecting
+that he was doing anything extraordinary, doing, as he had always done,
+the best thing that came in his way according to the best of his ability.
+He could not wholly suppress the reflection that much good might ensue
+from Goddard's death, but the thought never for a moment interfered with
+his efforts to save the convict alive.
+
+But John lay in the next room, kept awake by the sick man's perpetual
+groaning and by the train of thought which ran through his brain. There
+were indeed more strange things than his philosophy could account for,
+but the strangest of all was that the squire should know who the tramp
+was; he must know it, John thought, since he knew all about him, his
+former love for Mrs. Goddard and his recent presence in the
+neighbourhood. The young man's curiosity was roused to its highest pitch,
+and he longed to know more. He at once guessed that there must have
+been much intimate confidence between Mr. Juxon and Mrs. Goddard; he
+suspected moreover that there must be some strange story connected with
+her, something which accounted for the peculiar stamp of a formerly
+luxurious life which still clung to her, and which should explain her
+residence in Billingsfield But John was very far from suspecting the real
+truth.
+
+His mind was restless and the inaction became intolerable to him. He rose
+at last and went again into the room where his friend was watching. Mr.
+Juxon sat by the bedside, the very picture of patience, one leg crossed
+over the other and his hands folded together upon his knee, his face
+paler than usual but perfectly calm, his head bent a little to one side
+and his smooth hair, which had been slightly ruffled in the encounter in
+the park, as smooth as ever. It was a very distinctive feature of him; it
+was part of the sleek and spotless neatness which Mrs. Ambrose so much
+admired.
+
+"It is my turn, now," said John. "Will you lie down for a couple of
+hours?"
+
+The squire rose. Being older and less excitable than John, he was
+beginning to feel the need of rest. People who have watched often by the
+sick know how terribly long are those hours of the night between three
+o'clock and dawn; long always, but seeming interminable when one is
+obliged to listen perpetually to a long-drawn, inarticulate moaning, a
+constant effort to speak which never results in words.
+
+"You are very good," said Mr. Juxon, quietly. "If you will give him the
+things from time to time, I will take a nap."
+
+With that he went and lay down upon the couch, and in three minutes was
+as sound asleep as though he were in bed. John sat by the sick man and
+looked at his flushed features and listened to the hard-drawn breath
+followed each time by that terrible, monotonous, mumbling groan.
+
+It might have been three-quarters of an hour since the squire had gone to
+sleep when John thought he saw a change in Goddard's face; it seemed to
+him that the flush subsided from his forehead, very slowly, leaving only
+a bright burning colour in his cheeks. His eyes seemed suddenly to grow
+clearer and a strange look of intelligence came into them; his whole
+appearance was as though illuminated by a flash of some light different
+from that of the candles which burned upon the table. John rose to his
+feet and came and looked at him. The groaning suddenly ceased and
+Goddard's eyelids, which had been motionless for hours, moved naturally.
+He appeared to be observing John's face attentively.
+
+"Where is the squire?" he asked quite naturally--so naturally that John
+was startled.
+
+"Asleep in the next room," replied the latter.
+
+"I did not kill him after all," said Goddard, turning himself a little as
+though to be more at his ease.
+
+"No," answered John. "He is not hurt at all. Can you tell me who you
+are?" For his life, he could not help asking the question. It seemed so
+easy to find out who the fellow was, now that he could speak
+intelligibly. But Goddard's face contracted suddenly, in a hideous smile.
+
+"Don't you wish you knew?" he said roughly. "But I know you, my boy, I
+know you--ha! ha! There's no getting away from you, my boy, is there?"
+
+"Who am I?" asked John in astonishment.
+
+"You are the hangman," said Goddard. "I know you very well. The hangman
+is always so well dressed. I say, old chap, turn us off quick, you
+know--no fumbling about the bolt. Look here--I like your face," he
+lowered his voice--"there are nearly sixty pounds in my right-hand
+trouser pocket--there are--Mary--ah--gave--M--a--"
+
+Again his eyes fixed themselves and the moaning began and continued. John
+was horror-struck and stood for a moment gazing at his face, over which
+the deep flush had spread once more, seeming to obliterate all appearance
+of intelligence. Then the young man put his hand beneath Goddard's head
+and gently replaced him in his former position, smoothing the pillows,
+and giving him a little brandy. He debated whether or not he should call
+the squire from his rest to tell him what had happened, but seeing that
+Goddard had now returned to his former state, he supposed such moments of
+clear speech were to be expected from time to time. He sat down again,
+and waited; then after a time he went to the window and looked anxiously
+for the dawn. It seemed an intolerably long night.
+
+But the day came at last and shed a ghastly grey tinge upon the
+sick-room, revealing as it were the outlines of all that was bad to look
+at, which the warm yellow candle-light had softened with a kindlier
+touch. John accidentally looked at himself in the mirror as he passed and
+was startled at his own pale face; but the convict, labouring in the
+ravings of his fever, seemed unconscious of the dawning day; he was not
+yet exhausted and his harsh voice never ceased its jarring gibber. John
+wondered whether he should ever spend such a night again, and shuddered
+at the recollection of each moment.
+
+The daylight waked the squire from his slumbers, however, and before the
+sun was up he came out of the dressing-room, looking almost as fresh as
+though nothing had happened to him in the night. Accustomed for years to
+rise at all hours, in all weathers, unimpressionable, calm and strong, he
+seemed superior to the course of events.
+
+"Well, Mr. Short, you allowed me a long nap. You must be quite worn out,
+I should think. How is the patient?"
+
+John told what had occurred.
+
+"Took you for the hangman, did he?" said the squire. "I wonder why--but
+you say he asked after me very sensibly?"
+
+"Quite so. It was when I asked him his own name, that he began raving
+again," answered John innocently.
+
+"What made you ask him that?" asked Mr. Juxon, who did not seem pleased.
+
+"Curiosity," was John's laconic answer.
+
+"Yes--but I fancy it frightened him. If I were you I would not do it
+again, if he has a lucid moment. I imagine it was fright that made him
+delirious in the first instance."
+
+"All right," quoth John. "I won't." But he made his own deductions. The
+squire evidently knew who he was, and did not want John to know, for some
+unexplained reason. The young man wondered what the reason could be; the
+mere name of the wretched man was not likely to convey any idea to his
+mind, for it was highly improbable that he had ever met him before his
+conviction. So John departed to his own room and refreshed himself with
+a tub, while the squire kept watch by daylight.
+
+It was not yet eight o'clock when Holmes brought a note from the vicar,
+which Mr. Juxon tore open and read with anxious interest.
+
+"MY DEAR MR. JUXON--I received your note late last night, but I judged it
+better to answer this morning, not wishing to excite suspicion by sending
+to you at so late an hour. The intelligence is indeed alarming and you
+will, I daresay, understand me, when I tell you that I found it necessary
+to communicate it to Mrs. Ambrose--"
+
+The squire could not refrain from smiling at the vicar's way of putting
+the point; but he read quickly on.
+
+"She however--and I confess my surprise and gratification--desires to
+accompany me to the Hall this morning, volunteering to take all possible
+care of the unfortunate man. As she has had much experience in visiting
+the sick, I fancy that she will render us very valuable assistance in
+saving his life. Pray let me know if the plan has your approval, as it
+may be dangerous to lose time.--Yours sincerely,
+
+"AUGUSTIN AMBROSE."
+
+Mr. Juxon was delighted to find that the difficult task of putting Mrs.
+Ambrose in possession of the facts of the case had been accomplished in
+the ordinary, the very ordinary, course of events by her own
+determination to find out what was to be known. In an hour she might be
+at Goddard's bedside, and Mrs. Goddard would be free to see her husband.
+He despatched a note at once and redoubled his attentions to the sick man
+whose condition, however, showed no signs of changing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Mrs. Ambrose kept her word and arrived with the vicar before nine
+o'clock, protesting her determination to take care of poor Goddard, so
+long as he needed any care. Mr. Juxon warned her that John did not know
+who the man was, and entreated her to be careful of her speech when John
+was present. There was no reason why John should ever know anything more
+about it, he said; three could keep a secret, but no one knew whether
+four could be as discreet.
+
+The squire took Mrs. Ambrose and her husband to Goddard's room and
+telling her that Doctor Longstreet was expected in an hour, by which time
+he himself hoped to have returned, he left the two good people in charge
+of the sick man and went to see Mrs. Goddard. He sent John a message to
+the effect that all was well and that he should take some rest while the
+Ambroses relieved the watch, and having thus disposed his household he
+went out, bound upon one of the most disagreeable errands he had ever
+undertaken. But he set his teeth and walked boldly down the park.
+
+At the turn of the avenue he paused, at the spot where Goddard had
+attacked him. There was nothing to be seen at first, for the road was
+hard and dry and there was no trace of the scuffle; but as the squire
+looked about he spied his hat, lying in the ditch, and picked it up. It
+was heavy with the morning dew and the brim was broken and bent where
+Goddard's weapon had struck it. Hard by in a heap of driven oak leaves
+lay the weapon itself, which Mr. Juxon examined curiously. It was a
+heavy piece of hewn oak, evidently very old, and at one end a thick iron
+spike was driven through, the sharp point projecting upon one side and
+the wrought head upon the other. He turned it over in his hands and
+realised that he had narrowly escaped his death. Then he laid the hat and
+the club together and threw a handful of leaves over them, intending to
+take them to the Hall at a later hour, and he turned to go upon his way
+towards the cottage. But as he turned he saw two men coming towards him,
+and now not twenty yards away. His heart sank, for one of the two was
+Thomas Gall the village constable; the other was a quiet-looking
+individual with grey whiskers, plainly dressed and unassuming in
+appearance. Instinctively the squire knew that Gall's companion must be a
+detective. He was startled, and taken altogether unawares; but the men
+were close upon him and there was nothing to be done but to face them
+boldly.
+
+Gall made his usual half military salute as he came up, and the man in
+plain clothes raised his hat politely.
+
+"The gentleman from Lunnon, sir," said Gall by way of introduction,
+assuming an air of mysterious importance.
+
+"Yes?" said Mr. Juxon interrogatively. "Do you wish to speak to me?"
+
+"The gentleman's come on business, sir. In point of fact, sir, it's the
+case we was speakin' of lately."
+
+The squire knew very well what was the matter. Indeed, he had wondered
+that the detective had not arrived sooner. That did not make it any
+easier to receive him, however; on the contrary, if he had come on the
+previous day matters would have been much simpler.
+
+"Very well, Gall," answered Mr. Juxon. "I am much obliged to you for
+bringing Mr.--" he paused and looked at the man in plain clothes.
+
+"Booley, sir," said the detective.
+
+"Thank you--yes--for bringing Mr. Booley so far. You may go home, Gall.
+If we need your services we will send to your house."
+
+"It struck me, sir," remarked Gall with a bland smile, "as perhaps I
+might be of use--prefeshnal in fact, sir."
+
+"I will send for you," said the detective, shortly. The manners of the
+rural constabulary had long ceased to amuse him.
+
+Gall departed rather reluctantly, but to make up for being left out of
+the confidential interview which was to follow, he passed his thumb round
+his belt and thrust out his portly chest as he marched down the avenue.
+He subsequently spoke very roughly to a little boy who was driving an old
+sheep to the butcher's at the other end of the village.
+
+Mr. Juxon and the detective turned back and walked slowly towards the
+Hall.
+
+"Will you be good enough to state exactly what the business is," said the
+squire, well knowing that it was best to go straight to the point.
+
+"You are Mr. Juxon, I believe?" inquired Mr. Booley looking at his
+companion sharply. The squire nodded. "Very good, Mr. Juxon," continued
+the official. "I am after a man called Walter Goddard. Do you know
+anything about him? His wife, Mrs. Mary Goddard, lives in this village."
+
+"Walter Goddard is at this moment in my house," said the squire calmly.
+"I know all about him. He lay in wait for me at this very spot last night
+and attacked me. My dog pulled him down."
+
+The detective was somewhat surprised at the intelligence, and at the cool
+manner in which his companion conveyed it.
+
+"I am very glad to hear that. In that case I will take him at once."
+
+"I fear that is impossible," answered the squire. "The man is raving in
+the delirium of a brain fever. Meanwhile I shall be glad if you will stay
+in the house, until he is well enough to be moved. The doctor will be
+here at ten o'clock, and he will give you the details of the case better
+than I can. It would be quite impossible to take him away at present."
+
+"May I ask," inquired Mr. Booley severely, "why you did not inform the
+local police?"
+
+"Because it would have been useless. If he had escaped after attacking
+me, I should have done so. But since I caught him, and found him to be
+very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him
+myself. Mrs. Goddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her
+story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do
+her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also
+acquainted with the circumstances, is at this moment taking care of the
+sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the
+Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient
+guarantee--"
+
+"Oh, there is no question of guarantee," said Mr. Booley. "I assure you,
+Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best.
+Can you tell me how long Goddard has been in the neighbourhood?"
+
+The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate
+Mrs. Goddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not
+positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else
+had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that Goddard
+could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the
+capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him.
+
+"That is doubtful," said the squire. "When I left him just now he was
+quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a
+time might kill him outright."
+
+"It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man," remarked
+Mr. Booley. "Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the
+servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. Goddard, too."
+
+"That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house,
+now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps
+tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her
+very much."
+
+"Well, well, we will see about it," answered Mr. Booley. They reached the
+house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to
+wait for his return.
+
+It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the
+position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the
+house waiting to carry off Goddard, so soon as he should be well enough
+to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The
+longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time
+unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. Goddard of Booley's arrival.
+He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing
+her to her husband's bedside.
+
+He found her waiting for him, and was struck by the calmness she
+displayed. To tell the truth the violence of her emotions had been wholly
+expended on the previous night and the reaction had brought an intense
+melancholy quiet, which almost frightened Mr. Juxon. The habit of bearing
+great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well
+learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as
+though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent
+suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account
+of what had happened.
+
+"You are not hurt?" she asked, almost incredulously. Her eyes rested on
+her friend's face with a wistful look.
+
+"No, I assure you, not in the least," he said. "But your poor husband is
+very ill--very ill indeed."
+
+"Tell me," said she quietly, "is he dead? Are you trying to break it to
+me?"
+
+"No--no indeed. He is alive--he may even recover. But that is very
+uncertain. It might be best to wait until the doctor has been again. I
+will come back and fetch you--"
+
+"Oh, no, I will go at once. I would like to walk. It will do me good."
+
+So the two set out without further words upon their errand. Mr. Juxon had
+purposely omitted to speak of Mr. Booley's arrival. It would be easy, he
+thought, to prevent them from meeting in the great house.
+
+"Do you know," said Mary Goddard, as they walked together, "it is very
+hard to wish that he may recover--" she stopped short.
+
+"Very hard," answered the squire. "His life must be one of misery, if he
+lives."
+
+"Of course you would send him back?" she asked nervously.
+
+"My dear friend, there is no other course open to me. Your own safety
+requires it."
+
+"God knows--you would only be doing right," she said and was silent
+again. She knew, though the squire did not, what fate awaited Walter
+Goddard if he were given up to justice. She knew that he had taken life
+and must pay the penalty. Yet she was very calm; her senses were all
+dulled and yet her thoughts seemed to be consecutive and rational. She
+realised fully that the case of life and death was ill balanced; death
+had it which ever course events might take, and she could not save her
+husband. She thought of it calmly and calmly hoped that he might die now,
+in his bed, with her by his side. It was a better fate.
+
+"You say that the doctor thinks he must have been ill some time?" she
+asked after a time.
+
+"Yes--he was quite sure of it," answered the squire.
+
+"Perhaps that was why he spoke so roughly to me," she said in a low
+voice, as though speaking to herself.
+
+The tears came into the squire's eyes for sheer pity. Even in this utmost
+extremity the unhappy woman tried to account for her husband's rude and
+cruel speech. Mr. Juxon did not answer but looked away. They passed the
+spot where the scuffle had occurred on the previous night, but still he
+said nothing, fearing to disturb her by making his story seem too vividly
+real.
+
+"Where is he?" she asked as they reached the Hall, looking up at the
+windows.
+
+"On the other side."
+
+They went in and mounted the stairs towards the sick man's chamber. Mr.
+Juxon went in, leaving Mrs. Goddard outside for a moment. She could
+hear that hideous rattling monotonous moan, and she trembled from head to
+foot. Presently Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose came out, looking very grave and
+passed by her with a look of sympathy.
+
+"Will you come in?" said the squire in a low voice.
+
+Mrs. Goddard entered the room quickly. On seeing her husband, she uttered
+a low cry and laid her hand upon Mr. Juxon's arm. For some seconds she
+stood thus, quite motionless, gazing with intense and sympathetic
+interest at the sick man's face. Then she went to his side and laid her
+hand upon his burning forehead and looked into his eyes.
+
+"Walter! Walter!" she cried. "Don't you know me? Oh, why does he groan
+like that? Is he suffering?" she asked turning to Mr. Juxon.
+
+"No--I do not think he suffers much. He is quite unconscious. He is
+talking all the time but cannot pronounce the words."
+
+The squire stood at a distance looking on, noting the womanly
+thoughtfulness Mrs. Goddard displayed as she smoothed her husband's
+pillow and tried to settle his head more comfortably upon the bags of
+ice; and all the while she never took her eyes from Goddard's face, as
+though she were fascinated by her own sorrow and his suffering. She moved
+about the bed with that instinctive understanding of sickness which
+belongs to delicate women, but her glance never strayed to Mr. Juxon; she
+seemed forced by a mysterious magnetism to look at Walter and only at
+him.
+
+"Has he been long like this?" she asked.
+
+"Ever since last night. He called you once--he said, 'Mary Goddard, let
+me in!' And then he said something else--he said--I cannot remember what
+he said." Mr. Juxon checked himself, remembering the words John had
+heard, and of which he only half understood the import. But Mrs. Goddard
+hardly noticed his reply.
+
+"Will you leave me alone with him?" she said presently. "There is a bell
+in the room--I could ring if anything--happened," she added with mournful
+hesitation.
+
+"Certainly," answered the squire. "Only, I beg of you my dear friend--do
+not distress yourself needlessly--"
+
+"Needlessly!" she repeated with a sorrowful smile. "It is all I can do
+for him--to watch by his side. He will not live--he will not live, I am
+sure."
+
+The squire inwardly prayed that she might be right, and left her alone
+with the sick man. Who, he thought, was better fitted, who had a stronger
+right to be at his bedside at such a time? If only he might die! For if
+he lived, how much more terrible would the separation be, when Booley the
+detective came to conduct him back to his prison! In truth, it would be
+more terrible even than Mr. Juxon imagined.
+
+Meanwhile he must go and see to the rest of the household. He must speak
+to John Short; he must see Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, and he must take
+precautions against any of them seeing Mr. Booley. This was, he thought,
+very important, and he resolved to speak with the latter first. John was
+probably asleep, worn out with the watching of the night.
+
+Mr. Booley sat in the squire's study where he had been left almost an
+hour earlier. He had installed himself in a comfortable corner by the
+fire and was reading the morning paper which he had found unopened upon
+the table. He seemed thoroughly at home as he sat there, a pair of
+glasses upon his nose and his feet stretched out towards the flame upon
+the hearth.
+
+"Thank you, I am doing very well, Mr. Juxon," he said as the squire
+entered.
+
+"Oh--I am very glad," answered Mr. Juxon politely. The information was
+wholly voluntary as he had not asked any question concerning the
+detective's comfort.
+
+"And how is the patient?" inquired Mr. Booley. "Do you think there is any
+chance of removing him this afternoon?"
+
+"This afternoon?" repeated the squire, in some astonishment. "The man is
+very ill. It may be weeks before he can be removed."
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated the other. "I was not aware of that. I cannot possibly
+stay so long. To-morrow, at the latest, he will have to go."
+
+"But, my dear sir," argued Mr. Juxon, "the thing is quite impossible. The
+doctor can testify to that--"
+
+"We are apt to be our own doctors in these cases," said Mr. Booley,
+calmly. "At all events he can be taken as far as the county gaol."
+
+"Upon my word, it would be murder to think of it--a man in a brain fever,
+in a delirium, to be taken over jolting roads--dear me! It is not to be
+thought of!"
+
+Mr. Booley smiled benignly, for the first time since the squire had made
+his acquaintance.
+
+"You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable," he
+observed.
+
+"Yes--no doubt--but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too."
+
+"Hardly, I should say," returned the detective coolly. "But since you are
+so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you
+whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable
+experience in that line."
+
+"You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes," replied the squire,
+shocked at the man's indifference and hardness.
+
+"It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or
+raving," objected Mr. Booley.
+
+"He might have a lucid moment just when you are there--the fright would
+very likely kill him."
+
+"That would decide the question of moving him," answered Booley, taking
+his glasses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet.
+"There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I
+would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it
+may be my duty to do so."
+
+The squire was beginning to be angry; even his calm temper was not proof
+against the annoyance caused by Mr. Booley's appearance at the Hall, but
+he wisely controlled himself and resorted to other means of persuasion.
+
+"There is a reason, Mr. Booley; indeed there are several very good
+reasons. One of them is that it might be fatal to frighten the man;
+another is that at this moment his wife is by his bedside. She has
+entirely made up her mind that when he is recovered he must return to
+prison, but at present it would be most unkind to let her know that you
+are in the house. The shock to her nerves would be terrible."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Booley, "if there is a lady in the case we must make some
+allowances, I presume. Only, put yourself in my place, Mr. Juxon, put
+yourself in my place."
+
+The squire doubted whether he would be willing to exchange his
+personality for that of Mr. Booley.
+
+"Well--what then?" he said. "I think I would try to be merciful."
+
+"Yes; but suppose that in being merciful, you just allowed that lady the
+time necessary to present her beloved husband with a convenient little
+pill, just to shorten his sufferings? And suppose that--"
+
+"Really, Mr. Booley, I think you make very unwarrantable suppositions,"
+said Mr. Juxon severely. "I cannot suppose any such thing."
+
+"Many women--ladies too--have done that to save a man from hanging,"
+returned Mr. Booley, fixing his grey eye on the squire.
+
+"Hanging?" repeated the latter in surprise. "But Goddard is not to be
+hanged."
+
+"Of course he is. What did you expect?" Mr. Booley looked surprised in
+his turn.
+
+"But--what for?" asked the squire very anxiously. "He has not killed
+anybody--"
+
+"Oh--then you don't know how he escaped?"
+
+"No--I have not the least idea--pray tell me."
+
+"I don't wonder you don't understand me, then," said Mr. Booley. "Well,
+it is a short tale but a lively one, as they say. Of course it stands to
+reason in the first place that he could not have got out of Portland. He
+was taken out for a purpose. You know that after his trial was over, all
+sorts of other things besides the forgery came out about him, proving
+that he was altogether a very bad lot. Now about three weeks ago there
+was a question of identifying a certain person--it was a very long story,
+with a bad murder case and all the rest of it--commonplace, you know the
+sort--never mind the story, it will all be in the papers before long when
+they have got it straight, which is more than I have, seeing that these
+affairs do get a little complicated occasionally, you know, as such
+things will." Mr. Booley paused. It was evident that his command of the
+English tongue was not equal to the strain of constructing a long
+sentence.
+
+"This person, whom he was to identify, was the person murdered?" inquired
+Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Exactly. It was not the person, but the person's body, so to say.
+Somebody who had been connected with the Goddard case was sure that if
+Goddard could be got out of prison he could do the identifying all
+straight. It did not matter about his being under sentence of hard
+labour--it was a private case, and the officer only wanted Goddard's
+opinion for his personal satisfaction. So he goes to the governor of
+Portland, and finds that Goddard had a very good character in that
+institution--he was a little bit of a gay deceiver, you see, and knew how
+to fetch the chaps in there and particularly the parson. So he had a good
+character. Very good. The governor consents to send him to town for this
+private job, under a strong force--that means three policemen--with irons
+on his hands. When they reached London they put him in a fourwheeler.
+Those things are done sometimes, and nobody is the wiser, because the
+governor does it on his own responsibility, for the good of the law, I
+suppose. I never approved of it. Do you follow me, Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered the squire. "He was driven from the station with
+three policemen in a hackney-coach, you say."
+
+"Exactly so. It was a queer place where the body was--away down in the
+Minories. Ever been there, Mr. Juxon? Queer place it is, and no mistake.
+I would like to show you some little bits of London. Well, as I was
+saying, the fourwheeler went along, with two policemen inside with
+Goddard and one on the box. Safe, you would say. Not a bit of it. Just
+the beggar's luck, too. It was dusk. That is always darker than when the
+lamps are well going. The fourwheeler ran into a dray-cart, round a
+corner where they were repairing the street. The horse went down with a
+smash, shafts, lamp, everything broken to smithereens, as they say. The
+policeman jumps off the box with the cabby to see what is the matter. One
+of the bobbies--the policemen I would say--it's a technical term, Mr.
+Juxon--gets out of the cab to see what's up, leaving Goddard in charge of
+the other. Then there is a terrific row; more carts come up, more
+fourwheelers--everybody swearing at once. Presently the policeman who
+had got out comes back and looks in to see if everything is straight. Not
+a bit of it again. Other door of the cab was open and--no Goddard. But
+the policeman was lying back in the corner and when they struck a light
+and looked, they found he was stone dead. Goddard had brained him with
+the irons on his wrists. No one ever saw him from that day to this. He
+must have known London well--they say he did, and he was a noted quick
+runner. Being nightfall and rather foggy as it generally is in those
+parts he got clear off. But he killed the man who had him in charge and
+if he lives he will have to swing for it. May be Mrs. Goddard does not
+know that---may be she does. That is the reason I don't want her to be
+left alone with him. No doubt she is very good and all that, but she
+might just take it into her head to save the government twenty feet of
+rope."
+
+"I am very much surprised, and very much shocked," said the squire
+gravely. "I had no idea of this. But I will answer for Mrs. Goddard.
+Why was all this never In the papers--or was there an account of it, Mr.
+Booley?"
+
+"Oh no--it was never mentioned. We felt sure that we should catch him and
+until we did we--I mean the profession--thought it just as well to say
+nothing. The governor remembered to have read a letter from Goddard's
+wife, just telling him where she was living, about two years ago. Being
+harmless, he passed it and never copied the address; then he could not
+remember it. At last they found it in his cell, hidden away somehow. The
+beggar had kept it."
+
+"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. In the silence which followed, the
+sound of wheels was heard outside. Doctor Longstreet had arrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+While Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were together in the library downstairs, while
+John Short was waking from the short sleep he had enjoyed, and while the
+squire was listening in the study to Mr. Booley's graphic account of the
+convict's escape, Mrs. Goddard was alone with her husband, watching every
+movement and listening intently to every moaning breath he drew.
+
+In the desperate anxiety for his fate, she forgot herself and seemed no
+longer to feel fatigue or exhaustion from all she herself had suffered.
+She stood long by his bedside, hoping that he might recognise her and yet
+fearing the moment when he should recover his senses. Then she noticed
+that the morning sun was pouring in through the window and she drew a
+curtain across, to shade his eyes from the glare. Whether the sudden
+changing of the light affected Goddard, as it does sometimes affect
+persons in the delirium of a brain fever, or whether it was only a
+natural turn in his condition, she never knew. His expression changed and
+acquired that same look of strange intelligence which John Short had
+noticed in the night; the flush sank from his forehead and gave place to
+a luminous, transparent colour, his eyelids once more moved naturally,
+and he looked at his wife as she stood beside him, and recognised her. He
+was weaker now than when he had spoken with John Short six hours earlier,
+but he was more fully in possession of his faculties for a
+brief moment. Mary Goddard trembled and felt her hands turn cold with
+excitement.
+
+"Walter, do you know me now?" she asked very softly.
+
+"Yes," he said faintly, and closed his eyes. She laid her hand upon his
+forehead; the coldness of it seemed pleasant to him, for a slight smile
+flickered over his face.
+
+"You are better, I think," she said again, gazing intently at him.
+
+"Mary--it is Mary?" he murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking up
+to her. "Yes--I know you--I have been dreaming a long time. I'm so
+tired--"
+
+"You must not talk," said she. "It will tire you more." Then she gave him
+some drink. "Try and sleep," she said in a soothing tone.
+
+"I cannot--oh, Mary, I am very ill."
+
+"But you will get well again--"
+
+Goddard started suddenly, and laid his hand upon her arm with more force
+than she suspected he possessed.
+
+"Where am I?" he asked, staring about the room. "Is this your house,
+Mary? What became of Juxon?"
+
+"He is not hurt. He brought you home in his arms, Walter, to his own
+house, and is taking care of you."
+
+"Good heavens! He will give me up. No, no, don't hold me--I must be
+off"
+
+He made a sudden effort to rise, but he was very weak. He fell back
+exhausted upon his pillow; his fingers gripped the sheet convulsively,
+and his face grew paler.
+
+"Caught--like a rat!" he muttered. Mary Goddard sighed.
+
+Was she to give him hope of escape? Or should she try to calm him now,
+and when he was better, break the truth to him? Was she to make him
+believe that he was safe for the present, and hold out a prospect of
+escape when he should be better, or should she tell him now, once for
+all, while he was in his senses, that he was lost? It was a terrible
+position. Love she had none left for him, but there was infinite pity
+still in her heart and there would be while he breathed. She hesitated
+one moment only, and it may be that she decided for the wrong; but it was
+her pity that moved her, and not any remnant of love.
+
+"Hush, Walter," she said. "You may yet escape, when you are strong
+enough. You are quite safe here, for the present. Mr. Juxon would not
+think of giving you up now. By and by--the window is not high, Walter,
+and I shall often be alone with you. I will manage it."
+
+"Is that true? Are you cheating me?" cried the wretched man in broken
+tones. "No--you are speaking the truth--I know it--God bless you, Mary!"
+Again he closed his eyes and drew one or two long deep breaths.
+
+Strange to say, the blessing the miserable convict called down upon her
+was sweet to Mary Goddard, sweeter than anything she remembered for a
+long time. She had perhaps done wrong in giving him hopes of escaping,
+but at least he was grateful to her. It was more than she expected, for
+she remembered her last meeting with him, and the horrible ingratitude
+he had then shown her. It seemed to her that his heart had been softened
+a little; anything was better than that rough indifference he had
+affected before. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"Not that it makes much difference now, Mary," he said. "I don't think
+there is much left of me."
+
+"Do not say that, Walter," she answered gently. "Rest now. The more you
+rest the sooner you will be well again. Try and sleep."
+
+"Sleep--no--I cannot sleep. I have murdered sleep--like Macbeth, Mary,
+like Macbeth--Do you remember Macbeth?"
+
+"Hush," said Mary Goddard, endeavouring to calm him, though she turned
+pale at his strange quotation. "Hush--"
+
+"That is to say," said the sick man, heedless of her exhortation and
+soothing touch, "that is to say, I did not. He was very wide awake, and
+if I had not been quick, I should never have got off. Ugh! How damp that
+cellar was, that first night. That is where I got my fever. It is fever,
+I suppose?" he asked, unable to keep his mind for long in one groove.
+"What does the doctor say? Has he been here?"
+
+"Yes. He said you would soon be well; but he said you must be kept very
+quiet. So you must not talk, or I will go away."
+
+"Oh Mary, don't go--don't go! It's like--ha! ha! it's quite like old
+times, Mary!" He laughed harshly, a hideous, half-delirious laugh.
+
+Mary Goddard shuddered but made a great effort to control herself.
+
+"Yes," she said gently, "it is like old times. Try and think that it is
+the old house at Putney, Walter. Do you hear the sparrows chirping, just
+as they used to do? The curtains are the same colour, too. You used to
+sleep so quietly at the old house. Try and sleep now. Then you will
+soon get well. Now, I will sit beside you, but I will not talk any
+more--there--are you quite comfortable? A little higher? Yes--so. Go to
+sleep."
+
+Her quiet voice soothed him, and her gentle hands made his rest more
+easy. She sat down beside him, thinking from his silence that he would
+really go to sleep; hoping and yet not hoping, revolving in her mind the
+chances of his escape, so soon as he should be strong enough to attempt
+it, shuddering at the thought of what his fate must be if he again fell
+into the hands of the police. She did not know that a detective was at
+that moment in the house, determined to carry her husband away so soon as
+the doctor pronounced it possible. Nothing indeed, not even that
+knowledge could have added much to the burden of her sorrows as she sat
+there, a small and graceful figure with a sad pathetic face, leaning
+forward as she sat and gazing drearily at the carpet, where the sunlight
+crept in beneath the curtains from the bright world without. It seemed to
+her that the turning point in her existence had come, and that this day
+must decide all; yet she could not see how it was to be decided, think of
+it as she might. One thing stood prominent in her thoughts, and she
+delighted to think of it--the generosity of Charles Juxon. From first to
+last, from the day when she had frankly told him her story and he had
+accepted it and refused to let it bring any difference to his friendship
+for her, down to this present time, when after being basely attacked by
+her own husband, he had nobly brought the wretch home and was caring
+for him as for one of his own blood--through all and in spite of all, the
+squire had shown the same unassuming but unfailing generosity. She asked
+herself, as she sat beside the sick man, whether there were many like
+Charles Juxon in the world. There was the vicar, but the case was very
+different. He too had been kind and generous from the first; but he had
+not asked her to marry him--she blushed at the thought--he had not loved
+her. If Charles Juxon loved her, his generosity to Goddard was all the
+greater.
+
+She could not tell whether she loved him, because her ideas were what the
+world calls simple, and what, in heaven, would be called good. Her
+husband was alive; none the less so because he had been taken away and
+separated from her by the law--he was alive, and now was brought face to
+face with her again. While he was living, she did not suppose it possible
+to love another, for she was very simple. She said to herself truly that
+she had a very high esteem for the squire and that he was the best friend
+she had in the world; that to lose him would be the most terrible of
+imaginable losses; that she was deeply indebted to him, and she even half
+unconsciously allowed that if she were free she might marry him. There
+was no harm in that, she knew very well. She owed her own husband no
+longer either respect or affection, even while she still felt pity for
+him. Her esteem at least, she might give to another; nay, she owed it,
+and if she had refused Charles Juxon her friendship, she would have
+called herself the most ungrateful of women. If ever man deserved
+respect, esteem and friendship, it was the squire.
+
+Even in the present anxiety she thought of him, for his conduct seemed
+the only bright spot in the gloom of her thoughts; and she sincerely
+rejoiced that he had escaped unhurt. Had any harm come to him, she would
+have been, if it were possible, more miserable than she now was. But he
+was safe and sound, and doing his best to help her--doing more than she
+knew, in fact, at that very moment. There was at least something to be
+thankful for.
+
+Goddard stirred again, and opened his eyes.
+
+"Mary," he said faintly, "they won't catch me after all."
+
+"No, Walter," said she, humouring him. "Sleep quietly, for no one will
+disturb you."
+
+"I am going where nobody can catch me. I am dying--"
+
+"Oh, Walter!" cried Mary Goddard, "you must not speak like that. You will
+be better soon. The doctor is expected every moment."
+
+"He had better make haste," said the sick man with something of the
+roughness he had shown at their first meetings. "It is no use, Mary. I
+have been thinking about it. I have been mad for--for very long, I am
+sure. I want to die, Mary. Nobody can catch me if I die--I shall be safe
+then. You will be safe too--that is a great thing."
+
+His voice had a strange and meditative tone in it, which frightened his
+wife, as she stood close beside him. She could not speak, for her
+excitement and fear had the mastery of her tongue.
+
+"I have been thinking about it--I am not good for much, now--Mary--I
+never was. It will do some good if I die--just because I shall be out of
+the way. It will be the only good thing I ever did for you."
+
+"Oh Walter," cried his wife in genuine distress, "don't--don't!
+Think--you must not die so--think of--of the other world, Walter--you
+must not die so!"
+
+Goddard smiled faintly--scornfully, his wife thought.
+
+"I daresay I shall not die till to-morrow, or next day--but I will not
+live," he said with sudden energy. "Do you understand me, I will not
+live! Bah!" he cried, falling back upon his pillow, "the grapes are
+sour--I can't live if I would. Oh yes, I know all about that--my sins.
+Well, I am sorry for them. I am sorry, Mary. But it is very little
+good--people always laugh at--deathbed repentance--"
+
+He stopped and his thoughts seemed wandering. Mary Goddard gave him
+something to drink and tried to calm him. But he moved restlessly, though
+feebly.
+
+"Softly, softly," he murmured again. "He is coming--close to me. Get
+ready--now--no not yet, yes--now. Ugh!" yelled Goddard, suddenly
+springing up, his eyes starting from his head. "Ugh! the dog--oh!"
+
+"Hush, Walter," cried his wife, pushing him back. "Hush--no one will hurt
+you."
+
+"What--is that you, Mary?" asked the sick man, trembling violently. Then
+he laughed harshly. "I was off again. Pshaw! I did not really mean to
+hurt him--he need not have set that beast at me. He did not catch me
+though--Mary, I am going to die--will you pray for me? You are a good
+woman--somebody will hear your prayers, I daresay. Do, Mary--I shall feel
+better somehow, though I daresay it is very foolish of me."
+
+"No, Walter--not foolish, not foolish. Would you like me to call Mr.
+Ambrose? he is a clergyman--he is in the house."
+
+"No, no. You Mary, you--nobody will hear anybody else's prayers--for
+me--for poor me--"
+
+"Try and pray with me, Walter," said Mary Goddard, very quietly. She
+seemed to have an unnatural strength given to her in that hour of
+distress and horror. She knelt down by the bedside and took his wounded
+hand in hers, tenderly, and she prayed aloud in such words as she could
+find.
+
+Below, in the study, the detective had just finished telling his tale to
+the squire, and the wheels of Doctor Longstreet's dog-cart ground upon
+the gravel outside. The two men looked at each other for a moment, and
+Mr. Juxon spoke first.
+
+"That is the doctor," said he. "I will ask you to have patience for five
+minutes, Mr. Booley. He will give you his opinion. I am still very much
+shocked at what you have told me--I had no idea what had happened."
+
+"No--I suppose not," answered Mr. Booley calmly. "If you will ask the
+medical man to step in here for one moment, I will explain matters to
+him. I don't think he will differ much from me."
+
+"Very well," returned the squire, leaving the room. He went to meet
+Doctor Longstreet, intending to warn him of the presence of Mr. Booley,
+and meaning to entreat his support for the purpose of keeping Goddard in
+the house until he should be recovered. He passed through the library and
+exchanged a few words with Mr. Ambrose, explaining that the doctor had
+come. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were sitting on opposite sides of the
+fireplace in huge chairs, with a mournful air of resigned expectation
+upon their worthy faces. The detective remained alone in the study.
+
+Meanwhile John Short had refreshed himself from his fatigues, and came
+down stairs in search of some breakfast. He had recovered from his
+excitement and was probably the only one who thought of eating, as he was
+also the one least closely concerned in what was occurring. Instead of
+going to the library he went to the dining-room, and, seeing no one
+about, entered the study from the door which on that side connected the
+two rooms. To his surprise he saw Mr. Booley standing before the
+fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his feet wide apart. He had not
+the least idea who he was.
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed, staring hard at him.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Booley, who took him for the physician whom he expected.
+"I am George Booley of the detective service. I was expecting you, sir.
+There is very little to be said. My time, as I told Mr. Juxon, is very
+valuable. I must have Goddard out of the house by to-morrow afternoon at
+the latest. Now, doctor, it is of no use your talking to me about fever
+and all that--"
+
+John had stood with his mouth open, staring in blank astonishment at the
+detective, unable to find words in which to question the man. At last he
+got his breath.
+
+"What in the world are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "Are you a
+raving lunatic--or what are you?"
+
+"Come, come, doctor," said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, "none of
+that with me, you know. If the man must be moved--why he must, that is
+all, and you must make it possible, somehow."
+
+"You are crazy!" exclaimed John. "I am not the doctor, to begin with--"
+
+"Not the doctor!" cried Mr. Booley. "Then who are you? I beg your pardon,
+I am sure--"
+
+"I am John Short," said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name
+conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective. He cared little,
+for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into
+the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real
+physician. But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he
+found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each
+other. He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was
+relieved to see them--anything was a relief at that moment.
+
+"Mr. Ambrose," he said hurriedly, "there is a detective in the next room
+who means to carry off that poor man at once--as he is--sick--dying
+perhaps--it must be prevented!"
+
+"A detective!" cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath.
+
+"My dear John," said the vicar immediately afterwards, "where is he? I
+will reason with him."
+
+"Augustin," said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, "it is barbarous. I
+will go upstairs. If he enters the room it shall be across my body."
+
+"Do, my dear," replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely
+appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent.
+
+"Of course I will," said his wife, who had already reached the door. From
+which it appears that Mrs. Ambrose was a brave woman. She passed rapidly
+up the staircase to Goddard's room, but she paused as she laid her hand
+upon the latch. From within she could hear Mary Goddard's voice, praying
+aloud, as she had never heard any one pray before. She paused and
+listened, hesitating to interrupt the unhappy lady in such a moment.
+Moreover, though her goodwill was boundless, she had not any precise
+idea how to manage the defence. But as she stood there, the thought that
+the detective might at any moment follow her was predominant. The voice
+within the room paused for an instant and Mrs. Ambrose entered, raising
+one finger to her lips as though expecting that Mary Goddard would speak
+to her. But Mary was not looking, and at first did not notice the
+intrusion. She knelt by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, her
+hands clasped and clasping the sick man's wounded hand.
+
+Goddard's face was pale but not deathlike, and his breathing seemed
+regular and gentle; but his eyes were almost closed and he seemed not
+aware that any one had entered. Mrs. Ambrose was struck by his appearance
+which was greatly changed since she had left him half an hour earlier,
+his face purple and his harsh moaning continuing unceasingly. She said
+to herself that he was probably better. There was all the more reason for
+warning Mary Goddard of the new danger that awaited him. She shut the
+door and locked it and withdrew the key. At the sound Mary looked
+up--then rose to her feet with a sad look of reproach, as though not
+wishing to be disturbed. But Mrs. Ambrose came quickly to her side, and
+glancing once at Goddard, to see whether he was unconscious, she led her
+away from the bed.
+
+"My dear," she said very kindly, but in a voice trembling with
+excitement, "I had to come. There are detectives in the house, clamouring
+to take him away--but I will protect you--they shall not do it."
+
+Mary Goddard started and her eyes stared wildly at her friend. But
+presently the look of resigned sadness returned, and a faint and mournful
+smile flickered on her lips.
+
+"I think it is all over," she said. "He is still alive--but he will not
+live till they come."
+
+Then she bit her lip tightly, and all the features of her face trembled a
+little. The tears would rise spasmodically, though they were only tears
+of pity, not of love. Mrs. Ambrose, the severe, the stern, the eternally
+vigilant Mrs. Ambrose, sat down by the window; she put her arm about Mary
+Goddard's waist and took her upon her knee as though she had been a
+little child and laid her head upon her breast, comforting her as best
+she could. And their tears flowed down and mingled together, for many
+minutes.
+
+But once more the sick man's voice was heard; both women started to their
+feet and went to his side.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" he moaned faintly.
+
+"It is I--here I am, Walter, dear Walter--I am with you," answered Mary,
+raising him and putting her arm about his neck, while Mrs. Ambrose
+arranged the pillows behind him. He opened his eyes as though with a
+great effort.
+
+Some one knocked softly at the door. Mrs. Ambrose left the bedside
+quickly and put the key in the lock.
+
+"Who is there?" she asked, before she opened.
+
+"I--John. Please let me in."
+
+Mrs. Ambrose opened and John entered, very pale; she locked the door
+again after him. He stood still looking with astonishment at Mrs. Goddard
+who still propped the sick man in her arms and hardly noticed him.
+
+"Why--?" he ejaculated and then checked himself, or rather was checked by
+Mrs. Ambrose's look. Then he spoke to her in a whisper.
+
+"There is an awful row going on between the doctor and the detective," he
+said hurriedly under his breath. "They are coming upstairs and the vicar
+and Mr. Juxon are trying to part them--I don't know what they are not
+saying to each other--"
+
+"Hush," replied Mrs. Ambrose, "do not disturb him--he was conscious again
+just now. This may be the crisis--he may recover. The door is locked--try
+and prevent anybody--that is, the detective, from coming in. They will
+not dare to break open the door in Mr. Juxon's house."
+
+"But why is Mrs. Goddard here?" asked John unable to control his
+curiosity any longer. He did not mean that she should hear, but as she
+laid Goddard's head gently upon the pillows, trying to soothe him to rest
+again, if rest it were, she looked up and met John's eyes.
+
+"Because he is my husband," said she very quietly.
+
+John laid his hand on Mrs. Ambrose's arm in utmost bewilderment and
+looked at her as though to ask if it were true. She nodded gravely.
+Before John had time to recover himself from the shock of the news,
+footsteps were heard outside, and the loud altercation of angry voices.
+John Short leaned his shoulder against the door and put his foot against
+it below, expecting an attack.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+When Mr. Ambrose undertook to reason with the detective he went directly
+towards the study where John said the man was waiting. But Mr. Booley was
+beginning to suspect that the doctor was not coming to speak with him as
+the squire had promised, and after hesitating for a few moments followed
+John into the library, determining to manage matters himself. As he
+opened the door he met Mr. Ambrose coming towards him, and at the same
+moment Mr. Juxon and Doctor Longstreet entered from the opposite end of
+the long room. The cheerful and active physician was talking in a rather
+excited tone.
+
+"My dear sir," said he, "I cannot pretend to say that the man will or
+will not recover. I must see him again. Things look quite differently by
+daylight, and six or seven hours may make all the change in the world. To
+say that he can be moved to-day or even to-morrow, is absurd. I will
+stake my reputation as a practitioner--Hulloa!"
+
+The exclamation was elicited by Mr. Booley, who had pushed past Mr.
+Ambrose and stood confronting the doctor with a look which was intended
+to express a combination of sarcasm, superior cunning and authority.
+
+"This is Mr. Booley," explained the squire. "Doctor Longstreet will tell
+you what he has been telling me," he added turning to the detective.
+
+"I must see this man instantly," said the latter somewhat roughly. "I
+believe I am being trifled with, and I will not submit to it. No, sir, I
+will not be trifled with, I assure you! I must see this man at once. It
+is absolutely necessary to identify him."
+
+"And I say," said Doctor Longstreet with equal firmness, "that I must see
+him first, in order to judge whether you can see him or not--"
+
+"It is for me to judge of that," returned Mr. Booley, with more haste
+than logic.
+
+"After you have seen him, you cannot judge whether you ought to see him
+or not," retorted Doctor Longstreet growing red in the face. The
+detective attempted to push past him. At this moment John Short hastily
+left the room and fled upstairs to warn Mrs. Ambrose of what was
+happening.
+
+"Really," said Mr. Ambrose, making a vain attempt to stop the course of
+events, "this is very unwarrantable."
+
+"Unwarrantable!" cried Mr. Booley. "Unwarrantable, indeed! I have the
+warrant in my pocket. Mr. Juxon, sir, I fear I must insist."
+
+"Permit me," said Mr. Juxon, planting his square and sturdy form between
+the door and the detective. "You may certainly insist, but you must begin
+by listening to reason."
+
+Charles Juxon had been accustomed to command others for the greater part
+of his life, and though he was generally the most unobtrusive and gentle
+of men, when he raised his voice in a tone of authority his words carried
+weight. His blue eyes stared hard at Mr. Booley, and there was something
+imposing in his square head--even in the unruffled smoothness of his
+brown hair. Mr. Booley paused and discontentedly thrust his hands into
+his pockets.
+
+"Well?" he said.
+
+"Simply this," answered the squire. "You may accompany us to the door of
+the room; you may wait with me, while Doctor Longstreet goes in to look
+at the patient. If the man is unconscious you may go in and see him. If
+he chances to be in a lucid interval, you must wait until he is
+unconscious again. It will not be long. That is perfectly reasonable."
+
+"Perfectly," echoed Mr. Ambrose, biting his long upper lip and glaring as
+fiercely at Mr. Booley as though he had said it all himself.
+
+"Absolutely reasonable," added Doctor Longstreet.
+
+"Well, we will try it," said the detective moodily. "But I warn you I
+will not be trifled with."
+
+"Nobody is trifling with you," answered the squire coldly. "This way if
+you please." And he forthwith led the way upstairs, followed by Mr.
+Booley, the physician and the vicar.
+
+Before they reached the door, however, the discussion broke out again.
+Mr. Booley had been held in check for a few moments by Mr. Juxon's
+determined manner, but as he followed the squire he began to regret that
+he had yielded so far and he made a fresh assertion of his rights.
+
+"I cannot see why you want to keep me outside," he said. "What difference
+can it make, I should like to know?"
+
+"You will have to take my word for it that it does make a difference,"
+said the doctor, testily. "If you frighten the man, he will die. Now
+then, here we are."
+
+"I don't like your tone, sir," said Booley angrily, again trying to push
+past the physician. "I think I must insist, after all. I will go in with
+you--I tell you I will, sir--don't stop me."
+
+Doctor Longstreet, who was fifteen or twenty years older than the
+detective but still strong and active, gripped his arm quickly, and held
+him back.
+
+"If you go into that room without my permission, and if the man dies of
+fright, I will have an action brought against you for manslaughter," he
+said in a loud voice.
+
+"And I will support it," said the squire. "I am justice of the peace
+here, and what is more, I am in my own house. Do not think your position
+will protect you."
+
+Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew
+back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the
+door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word
+of the altercation had been heard within.
+
+"Who is there?" asked John, who though he had heard all that had been
+said was uncertain of the issue.
+
+"Let in Doctor Longstreet," said the squire's voice.
+
+But meanwhile Mrs. Ambrose and Mary Goddard were standing on each side of
+the sick man. He must have heard the noises outside, and they conveyed
+some impression to his brain.
+
+"Mary, Mary!" he groaned indistinctly. "Save me--they are coming--I
+cannot get away--softly, he is coming--now--I shall just catch him as he
+goes by--Ugh! that dog--oh! oh!--"
+
+With a wild shriek, the wretched man sprang up, upon his knees, his eyes
+starting out, his face transfigured with horror. For one instant he
+remained thus, half-supported by the two terror-struck women; then with a
+groan his head drooped forward upon his breast and he fell back heavily
+upon the pillows, breathing still but quite unconscious.
+
+Doctor Longstreet entered at that moment and ran to his side. But when he
+saw him he paused. Even Mrs. Ambrose was white with horror, and Mary
+Goddard stood motionless, staring down at her husband, her hands gripping
+the disordered coverlet convulsively.
+
+Mr. Juxon had entered, too, while Mr. Ambrose remained outside with the
+detective, who had been frightened into submission by the physician's
+last threat. The squire saw what was happening and paced the room in the
+greatest agitation, wringing his hands together and biting his lips. John
+had closed the door and came to the foot of the bed and looked at
+Goddard's face. After a pause, Doctor Longstreet spoke.
+
+"We might possibly restore him to consciousness for a moment--"
+
+"Don't!" cried Mary Goddard, starting as though some one had struck her.
+"That is--" she added quickly, in broken tones, "unless he can live!"
+
+"No," answered the physician, gravely, but looking hard at the unhappy
+woman. "He is dying."
+
+Goddard's staring eyes were glazed and white. Twice and three times he
+gasped for breath, and then lay quite still. It was all over. Mary gazed
+at his dead face for one instant, then a faint smile parted her lips: she
+raised one hand to her forehead as though dazed.
+
+"He is safe now," she murmured very faintly. Her limbs relaxed suddenly,
+and she fell straight backwards. Charles Juxon, who was watching her,
+sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Then he bore her from the
+room, swiftly, while John Short who was as white and speechless as the
+rest opened the door.
+
+"You may go in now," said Juxon as he passed Booley and Mr. Ambrose in
+the passage, with his burden in his arms. A few steps farther on he met
+Holmes the butler, who carried a telegram on a salver.
+
+"For Mr. Short, sir," said the impassive servant, not appearing to notice
+anything strange in the fact that his master was carrying the inanimate
+body of Mary Goddard.
+
+"He is in there--go in," said Juxon hurriedly as he went on his way.
+
+The detective and the vicar had already entered the room where the dead
+convict was lying. All stood around the bed, gazing at his pale face as
+he lay.
+
+"A telegram for Mr. Short," said Holmes from the door. John started and
+took the despatch from the butler's hands. He hastily tore it open,
+glanced at the contents and thrust it into his pocket. Every one looked
+round.
+
+"What is it, John?" whispered the vicar, who was nearest to him.
+
+"Oh--nothing. I am first in the Tripos, that is all," answered John very
+simply, as though it were not a matter of the least consequence.
+
+Through all those months of untiring labour, through privation and
+anxiety, through days of weariness and nights of study, he had looked
+forward to the triumph, often doubting but never despairing. But he had
+little guessed that the news of victory would reach him at such a moment.
+It was nothing, he said; and indeed as he stood with the group of pale
+and awe-struck spectators by the dead man's bed, he felt that the
+greatest thing which had ever happened to him was as nothing compared
+with the tragedy of which he had witnessed the last act.
+
+It was all over. There was nothing more to be said; the convict had
+escaped the law in the end, at the very moment when the hand of the law
+was upon him. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, buried him "four by
+six by two," grumbling at the parish depth as of yore, and a simple stone
+cross marked his nameless grave. There it stands to this day in the
+churchyard of Billingsfield, Essex, in the shadow of the ancient abbey.
+
+All these things happened a long time ago, according to Billingsfield
+reckoning, but the story of the tramp who attacked Squire Juxon and was
+pulled down by the bloodhound is still told by the villagers, and Mr.
+Gall, being once in good cheer, vaguely hinted that he knew who the tramp
+was; but from the singular reticence he has always shown in the matter,
+and from the prosperity which has attended his constabulary career, it
+may well be believed that he has a life interest in keeping his counsel.
+Indeed as it is nearly ten years since Mr. Reid buried the poor tramp, it
+is possible that Mr. Gall's memory may be already failing in regard to
+events which occurred at so remote a date.
+
+It was but an incident, though it was perhaps the only incident of any
+interest which ever occurred in Billingsfield; but until it reached its
+termination it agitated the lives of the quiet people at the vicarage,
+at the cottage and at the Hall as violently as human nature can be moved.
+It was long, too, before those who had witnessed the scene of Goddard's
+death could shake off the impression of those awful last moments. Yet
+time does all things wonderful and in the course of not many months there
+remained of Goddard's memory only a great sense of relief that he was no
+longer alive. Mary Goddard, indeed, was very ill for a long time; and but
+for Mrs. Ambrose's tender care of her, might have followed her husband
+within a few weeks of his death. But the good lady never left her, until
+she was herself again--absolutely herself, saving that as time passed and
+her deep wounds healed her sorrows were forgotten, and she seemed to
+bloom out into a second youth.
+
+So it came to pass that within two years Charles Juxon once more asked
+her to be his wife. She hesitated long--fully half an hour, the squire
+thought; but in the end she put out her small hand and laid it in his,
+and thanked God that a man so generous and true, and whom she so honestly
+loved, was to be her husband as well as her friend and protector. Charles
+James Juxon smoothed his hair with his other hand, and his blue eyes were
+a little moistened.
+
+"God bless you, Mary," he said; and that was all.
+
+Then the Reverend Augustin Ambrose married them in the church of Saint
+Mary's, between Christmas and New Year's Day; and the wedding-party
+consisted of Mrs. Ambrose and Eleanor Goddard and John Short, Fellow of
+Trinity College, Cambridge. And again years passed by, and Nellie grew in
+beauty as John grew in reputation; and Nellie had both brothers and
+sisters, as she had longed to have, and to her, their father was as her
+own; so that there was much harmony and peace and goodwill towards men
+in Billingsfield Hall. John came often and stayed long, and was ever
+welcome; for though Mary Goddard's youth returned with the daffodils and
+the roses of the first spring after Walter's death, John's fleeting
+passion returned not, and perhaps its place was better taken. Year by
+year, as he came to refresh himself from hard work with a breath of the
+country air, he saw the little girl grow to the young maiden of sixteen,
+and he saw her beauty ripen again to the fulness of womanhood; and at
+last, when she was one and twenty years of age he in his turn put out his
+hand and asked her to take him--which she did, for better or worse, but
+to all appearances for better. For John Short had prospered mightily in
+the world, and had come to think his first great success as very small
+and insignificant as compared with what he had done since. But his old
+simplicity was in him yet, and was the cause of much of his prosperity,
+as it generally is when it is found together with plenty of brains. It
+was doubtless because he was so very simple that when he found that he
+loved Eleanor Goddard he did not hesitate to ask the convict's daughter
+to be his wife. His interview with Mr. Juxon was characteristic.
+
+"You know what you are doing, John?" asked the squire. He always called
+him John, now.
+
+"Perfectly," replied the scholar, "I am doing precisely what my betters
+have done before me with such admirable result."
+
+"Betters?"
+
+"You. You knew about it all and you married her mother. I know all about
+it, and I wish to marry herself."
+
+"You know that she never heard the story?"
+
+"Yes. She never shall."
+
+"No, John--she never must. Well, all good go with you."
+
+So Charles Juxon gave his consent. And Mary Juxon consented too; but for
+the first time in many years the tears rose again to her eyes, and she
+laid her hand on John's arm, as they walked together in the park.
+
+"Oh, John," she said, "do you think it is right--for you yourself?"
+
+"Of course I think so," quoth John stoutly.
+
+"You John--with your reputation, your success, with the whole world at
+your feet--you ought not to marry the daughter of--of such a man."
+
+"My dear Mrs. Juxon," said John Short, "is she not your daughter as well
+as his? Pray, pray do not mention that objection. I assure you I have
+thought it all over. There is really nothing more to be said, which I
+have not said to myself. Dear Mrs. Juxon--do say Yes!"
+
+"You are very generous, John, as well as great," she answered looking up
+to his face. "Well--I have nothing to say. You must do as you think best.
+I am sure you will be kind to Nellie, for I have known you for ten
+years--you may tell her I am very glad--" she stopped, her eyes brimming
+over with tears.
+
+"Do you remember how angry I was once, when you told me to go and talk to
+Nellie?" said John. "It was just here, too--"
+
+Mary Juxon laughed happily and brushed the tears from her eyes. So it was
+all settled.
+
+Once more the Reverend Augustin Ambrose united two loving hearts before
+the altar of Saint Mary's. He was well stricken in years, and his hair
+and beard were very white. Mrs. Ambrose also grew more imposing with each
+succeeding season, but her face was softer than of old, and her voice
+more gentle. For the sorrow and suffering of a few days had drawn
+together the hearts of all those good people with strong bands, and a
+deep affection had sprung up between them all. The good old lady felt as
+though Mary Juxon were her daughter--Mary Juxon, by whom she had stood in
+the moment of direst trial and terror, whom she had tended in illness and
+cheered in recovery. And the younger woman's heart had gone out towards
+her, feeling how good a thing it is to find a friend in need, and
+learning to value in her happiness the wealth of human kindness she had
+found in her adversity.
+
+They are like one family, now, having a common past, a common present,
+and a common future, and there is no dissension among them. Honest and
+loyal men and women may meet day after day, and join hands and exchange
+greetings, without becoming firm friends, for the very reason that they
+have no need of each other. But if the storm of a great sorrow breaks
+among them and they call out to each other for help, and bear the brunt
+of the weather hand in hand, the seed of a deeper affection is brought
+into their midst; and when the tempest is past the sweet flower of
+friendship springs up in the moistened furrows of their lives.
+
+So those good people in the lonely parish of Billingsfield gathered round
+Mary Goddard, as they called her then, and round poor little Nellie, and
+did their best to protect the mother and the child from harm and
+undeserved suffering; and afterwards, when it was all over, and there was
+nothing more to be feared in the future, they looked into each other's
+faces and felt that they were become as brothers and sisters, and that so
+long as they should live--may it be long indeed!--there was a bond
+between them which could never be broken. So it was that Mrs. Ambrose's
+face softened and her voice was less severe than it had been.
+
+Mary Juxon is the happiest of women; happy in her husband, in her
+eldest daughter, in John Short and in the little children with bright
+faces and ringing voices who nestle at her knee or climb over the sturdy
+sailor-squire, and pull his great beard and make him laugh. They will
+never know, any more than Nellie knew, all that their mother suffered;
+and as she looks upon them and strokes their long fair hair and listens
+to their laughter, she says to herself that it was perhaps almost worth
+while to have been dragged down towards the depths of shame for the sake
+of at last enjoying such pride and glory of happy motherhood.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+      I. Mr. Isaacs
+     II. Doctor Claudius
+    III. To Leeward
+     IV. A Roman Singer
+      V. An American Politician
+     VI. Marzio's Crucifix Zoroaster
+    VII. A Tale of a Lonely Parish
+   VIII. Paul Patoff
+     IX. Love in Idleness: A Tale of Bar Harbor Marion Darche
+      X. Saracinesca
+     XI. Sant' Ilario
+    XII. Don Orsino
+   XIII. Corleone: A Sicilian Story
+    XIV. With the Immortals
+     XV. Greifenstein
+    XVI. A Cigarette-Maker's Romance Khaled
+   XVII. The Witch of Prague
+  XVIII. The Three Fates
+    XIX. Taquisara
+     XX. The Children of the King
+    XXI. Pietro Ghisleri
+   XXII. Katharine Lauderdale
+  XXIII. The Ralstons
+   XXIV. Casa Braccio (Part I)
+    XXV. Casa Braccio (Part II)
+   XXVI. Adam Johnstone's Son A Rose of Yesterday
+  XXVII. Via Crucia
+ XXVIII. In the Palace of the King
+   XXIX. Marietta: A Maid of Venice
+    XXX. Cecilia: A Story of Modern Rome
+   XXXI. The Heart of Rome
+  XXXII. Whosoever Shall Offend
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH***
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Tale of a Lonely Parish, by F. Marion
+Crawford
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: A Tale of a Lonely Parish
+
+Author: F. Marion Crawford
+
+Release Date: October 4, 2004  [eBook #13597]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Audrey Longhurst, Mary Meehan, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH
+
+by
+
+F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+1886
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TO My MOTHER
+
+I DEDICATE THIS TALE A MEAN TOKEN OF A LIFELONG AFFECTION
+
+SORRENTO, Christmas Day, 1885
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The Reverend Augustin Ambrose would gladly have given up taking pupils.
+He was growing old and his sight was beginning to trouble him; he was
+very weary of Thucydides, of Homer, of the works of Mr. Todhunter of
+which the green bindings expressed a hope still unrealised, of conic
+sections--even of his beloved Horace. He was tired of the stupidities of
+the dull young men who were sent to him because they could not "keep up",
+and he had long ceased to be surprised or interested by the remarks of
+the clever ones who were sent to him because their education had not
+prepared them for an English University. The dull ones could never be
+made to understand anything, though Mr. Ambrose generally succeeded in
+making them remember enough to matriculate, by dint of ceaseless
+repetition and a system of _memoria technica_ which embraced most things
+necessary to the salvation of dull youth. The clever ones, on the other
+hand, generally lacked altogether the solid foundation of learning; they
+could construe fluently but did not know a long syllable from a short
+one; they had vague notions of elemental algebra and no notion at all of
+arithmetic, but did very well in conic sections; they knew nothing of
+prosody, but dabbled perpetually in English blank verse; altogether they
+knew most of those things which they need not have known and they knew
+none of those things thoroughly which they ought to have known. After
+twenty years of experience Mr. Ambrose ascertained that it was easier to
+teach a stupid boy than a clever one, but that he would prefer not to
+teach at all.
+
+Unfortunately the small tithes of a small country parish in Essex did not
+furnish a sufficient income for his needs. He had been a Fellow of
+Trinity College, Cambridge, within a few years of taking his degree,
+wherein he had obtained high honours. But he had married and had found
+himself obliged to accept the first living offered to him, to wit, the
+vicarage of Billingsfield, whereof his college held the rectory and
+received the great tithes. The entire income he obtained from his cure
+never at any time exceeded three hundred and forty-seven pounds, and in
+the year when it reached that high figure there had been an unusually
+large number of marriages. It was not surprising that the vicar should
+desire to improve his circumstances by receiving one or two pupils. He
+had married young, as has been said, and there had been children born to
+him, a son and a daughter. Mrs. Ambrose was a good manager and a good
+mother, and her husband had worked hard. Between them they had brought up
+their children exceedingly well. The son had in his turn entered the
+church, had exhibited a faculty of pushing his way which had not
+characterised his father, had got a curacy in a fashionable Yorkshire
+watering-place, and was thought to be on the way to obtain a first-rate
+living. In the course of time, too, the daughter had lost her heart to a
+young physician who had brilliant prospects and some personal fortune,
+and the Reverend Augustin Ambrose had given his consent to the union. Nor
+had he been disappointed. The young physician had risen rapidly in his
+profession, had been elected a member of the London College, had
+transferred himself to the capital and now enjoyed a rising practice in
+Chelsea. So great was his success that it was thought he would before
+long purchase the goodwill of an old practitioner who dwelt in the
+neighbourhood of Brompton Crescent, and who, it was said, might shortly
+be expected to retire.
+
+It will be seen, therefore, that if Mr. Ambrose's life had not been very
+brilliant, his efforts had on the whole been attended with success. His
+children were both happy and independent and no longer needed his
+assistance or support; his wife, the excellent Mrs. Ambrose, enjoyed
+unfailing health and good spirits; he himself was still vigorous and
+active, and as yet found no difficulty in obtaining a couple of pupils at
+two hundred pounds a year each, for he had early got a reputation for
+successfully preparing young gentlemen with whom no other private tutor
+could do anything, and he had established the scale of his prices
+accordingly. It is true that he had sacrificed other things for the sake
+of imparting tuition, and more than once he had hesitated and asked
+himself whether he should go on. Indeed, when he graduated, it was
+thought that he would soon make himself remarkable by the publication of
+some scholarly work; it was foretold that he might become a famous
+preacher; it was asserted that he was a general favourite with the
+Fellows of Trinity and would get a proportionately fat living--but he had
+committed the unpardonable sin of allowing his chances of fortune to slip
+from him. He had given up his fellowship, had married and had accepted an
+insignificant country living. He asked nothing, and he got nothing. He
+never attracted the notice of his bishop by doing anything extraordinary,
+nor the notice of the public by appearing in print. He baptized, married
+and buried the people of Billingsfield, Essex, and he took private
+pupils. He wrote a sermon once a fortnight, and revised old ones for the
+other three occasions out of four. His sermons were good in their way,
+but were intended for simple folk and did no justice to the powers he had
+certainly possessed in his youth. Indeed, as years went on, the dry
+routine of his life produced its inevitable effect upon his mind, and the
+productions of Mr. Ambrose grew to be exceedingly commonplace; and the
+more commonplace he became, the more he regretted having done so little
+with the faculties he enjoyed, and the more weary he became of the daily
+task of galvanising the dull minds of his pupils into a spasmodic
+activity, just sufficient to leap the ditch that separates the schoolboy
+from the undergraduate. He had not only educated his children and seen
+them provided for in the world; he had also saved a little money, and he
+had insured his life for five hundred pounds. There was no longer any
+positive necessity for continuing to teach, as there had been thirty
+years ago, when he first married.
+
+So much for the circumstances of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose.
+Personally he was a man of good presence, five feet ten inches in height,
+active and strong, of a ruddy complexion with smooth, thick grey hair and
+a plentiful grey beard. He shaved his upper lip however, greatly to the
+detriment of his appearance, for the said upper lip was very long and the
+absence of the hirsute appendage showed a very large mouth with very thin
+lips, generally compressed into an expression of remarkable obstinacy.
+His nose was both broad and long and his grey eyes were bright and
+aggressive in their glance. As a matter of fact Mr. Ambrose was combative
+by nature, but his fighting instincts seem to have been generally
+employed in the protection of rights he already possessed, rather than in
+pushing on in search of fresh fields of activity. He was an active man,
+fond of walking alone and able to walk any distance he pleased; a
+charitable man with the charity peculiar to people of exceedingly
+economical tendencies and possessing small fixed incomes. He would give
+himself vast personal trouble to assist distress, as though aware that
+since he could not give much money to the poor he was bound to give the
+best of himself. The good Mrs. Ambrose seconded him in this as in all his
+works; labouring hard when hard work could do any good, but giving
+material assistance with a sparing hand. It sufficiently defines the two
+to say that although many a surly labourer in the parish grumbled that
+the vicar and his wife were "oncommon near", when money was concerned,
+there was nevertheless no trouble in which their aid was not invoked and
+their advice asked. But the indigent labourer not uncommonly retrieved
+his position by asking a shilling of one of the young gentlemen at the
+vicarage, who were generally open-handed, good-looking boys, blessed with
+a great deal more money than brains.
+
+At the time when this tale opens, however, it chanced that one of the two
+young gentlemen at the vicarage was by no means in the position peculiar
+to the majority of youths who sought the good offices of the Reverend
+Augustin Ambrose. John Short, aged eighteen, was in all respects a
+remarkable contrast to his companion the Honourable Cornelius Angleside.
+John Short was apparently very poor; the Honourable Cornelius on the
+other hand had plenty of money. Short was undeniably clever; Angleside
+was uncommonly dull. Short was the son of a decayed literary man;
+Angleside was the son of a nobleman. Short was by nature a hard worker;
+Angleside was amazingly idle. Short meant to do something in the world;
+Angleside had early determined to do nothing.
+
+It would not be easy to define the reasons which induced Mr. Ambrose to
+receive John Short under his roof. He had never before taken a pupil on
+any but his usual terms, and at his time of life it was strange that he
+should break through the rule. But here his peculiar views of charity
+came into play. Short's father had been his own chum at school, and his
+friend at college, but had failed to reap any substantial benefits from
+his education. He had been a scholar in his way, but his way had not been
+the way of other scholars, and when he had gone up for honours he had got
+a bad third in classics. He would not enter the church, he could not
+enter the law, he had no interest whatever, and he found himself
+naturally thrust into the profession of literature. For a time he had
+nearly starved; then he had met with some success and had, of course,
+married without hesitation; after this he had had more misfortunes. His
+wife had died leaving him an only son, whom in course of time he had sent
+to school. But school was too expensive and he had reluctantly taken the
+boy home again. It was in a fit of despair that he wrote to his old
+friend Augustin Ambrose, asking his advice. The Reverend Augustin
+considered the matter with the assistance of his wife, and being
+charitable souls, they determined that they must help Short to educate
+his son. Accordingly the vicar of Billingsfield wrote to his old friend
+to say that if he could manage to pay a small sum for the lad's board,
+he, the vicar, would complete the boy's education, so that he might at
+least have a chance in the world. Short accepted the offer with boundless
+gratitude and had hitherto not failed to pay the vicar the small sum
+agreed upon. The result of all this was that Mr. Ambrose had grown very
+fond of John, and John had derived great advantage from his position. He
+possessed precisely what his father had lacked, namely a strong bent in
+one direction, and there was no doubt that he would distinguish himself
+if he had a chance. That chance the vicar had determined to give him. He
+had made up his mind that his old friend's son should go to college and
+show what he was able to do. It was not an easy thing to manage, but the
+vicar had friends in Cambridge and John had brains; moreover the vicar
+and John were both very obstinate people and had both determined upon the
+same plan, so that there was a strong probability of their succeeding.
+
+John Short was eighteen years of age, neither particularly good-looking
+nor by any means the reverse. He had what bankers commonly call a lucky
+face; that is to say he had a certain very prepossessing look of honesty
+in his blue eyes, and a certain look of energetic goodwill in his
+features. When he was much older and wore a beard he passed for a
+handsome man, but at eighteen he could only boast the smallest of fair
+whiskers, and when anybody took the trouble to look long at him, which
+was not often, the verdict was that his jaw was too heavy and his mouth
+too obstinate. In complexion he was fair, and healthy to look at,
+generally sunburned in the summer, for he had a habit of reading out of
+doors; his laugh was very pleasant, though it was rarely heard; his eyes
+were honest but generally thoughtful; his frame was sturdy and already
+inclined rather to strength than to graceful proportion; his head matched
+his body well, being broad and well-shaped with plenty of prominence over
+the brows and plenty of fulness above the temples. He had a way of
+standing as though it would not be easy to move him, and a way of
+expressing his opinion which seemed to challenge contradiction. But he
+was not a combative boy. If any one argued with him, it soon appeared
+that he was not really argumentative, but merely enthusiastic. It was not
+necessary to agree with him, and there was small use in contradicting
+him. The more he talked the more enthusiastic he grew as he developed his
+own views; until seeing that he was not understood or that he was merely
+laughed at, he would end his discourse with a merry laugh at himself, or
+a shy apology for having talked so much. But the vicar assured his wife
+that the boy's Greek and Latin verses were something very extraordinary
+indeed, and much better than his own in his best days. For John was
+passionately fond of the classics and did not propose to acquire any more
+mathematical knowledge than was strictly necessary for his matriculation
+and "little-go." He meant to be a famous scholar and he meant to get a
+fellowship at his college in order to be perfectly independent and to
+help his father.
+
+John was a constant source of wonder to his companion the Honourable
+Cornelius Angleside, who remembered to have seen fellows of that sort at
+Eton but had never got near enough to them to know what they were really
+like. Cornelius had a vague idea that there was some trick about
+appearing to know so much and that those reading chaps were awful
+humbugs. How the trick was performed he did not venture to explain, but
+he was as firmly persuaded that it was managed by some species of
+conjuring as that Messrs. Maskelyne and Cook performed their wonders by
+sleight of hand. That one human brain should actually contain the amount
+of knowledge John Short appeared to possess was not credible to the
+Honourable Cornelius, and the latter spent more of his time in trying to
+discover how John "did it" than in trying to "do it" himself.
+Nevertheless, young Angleside liked Short after his own fashion, and
+Short did not dislike Angleside. John's father had given him to
+understand that as a general rule persons of wealth and good birth were a
+set of overbearing, purse-proud bullies, who considered men of genius to
+be little better than a set of learned monkeys, certainly not good enough
+to black their boots. For John's father in his misfortunes had imbibed
+sundry radical notions formerly peculiar to poor literary men, and not
+yet altogether extinct, and he had accordingly warned his son that all
+mammon was the mammon of unrighteousness, and that the people who
+possessed it were the natural enemies of people who had to live by their
+brains. But John had very soon discovered that though Cornelius Angleside
+possessed the three qualifications for perdition, in the shape of birth,
+wealth and ignorance, against which his poor father railed unceasingly,
+he succeeded nevertheless in making himself very good company. Angleside
+was not overbearing, he was not purse-proud and he was not a bully. On
+the contrary he was unobtrusive and sufficiently simple in manner, and he
+certainly never mentioned the subject of his family or fortune; John
+rather pitied him, on the whole, until he began to discover that
+Angleside looked up to him on account of his mental superiority, and then
+John, being very human, began to like him.
+
+The life at the vicarage of Billingsfield, Essex, was not remarkable for
+anything but its extreme regularity. Prayers, breakfast, work, lunch, a
+walk, work, dinner, work, prayers, bed. The programme never varied, save
+as the seasons introduced some change in the hours of the establishment.
+The vicar, who was fond of a little gardening and amused himself with a
+variety of experiments in the laying of asparagus beds, found occasional
+excitement in the pursuit of a stray cat which had managed to climb his
+wire netting and get at the heads of his favourite vegetable, in which
+thrilling chase he was usually aided by an old brown retriever answering,
+when he answered at all, to the name of Carlo, and by the Honourable
+Cornelius, whose skill in throwing stones was as phenomenal as his
+ignorance of Latin quantities. The play was invariably opened by old
+Reynolds, the ancient and bow-legged gardener, groom and man of all work
+at the vicarage.
+
+"Please sir, there's Simon Gunn's cat in the sparrergrass." The
+information was accompanied by a sort of chuckle of evil satisfaction
+which at once roused the sleeping passions of the Reverend Augustin
+Ambrose.
+
+"Dear me, Reynolds, then why don't you turn her out?" and without waiting
+for an answer, the excellent vicar would spring from his seat and rush
+down the lawn in the direction of the beds, closely followed by the
+Honourable Cornelius, who picked up stones from the gravel path as he
+ran, and whose long legs made short work of the iron fence at the bottom
+of the garden. Meanwhile the aged Reynolds let Carlo loose from the yard
+and the hunt was prosecuted with great boldness and ingenuity. The
+vicar's object was to get the cat out of the asparagus bed as soon as
+possible without hurting her, for he was a humane man and would not have
+hurt a fly. Cornelius, on the other hand, desired the game to last as
+long as possible, and endeavoured to prevent the cat's escape by always
+hitting the wire netting at the precise spot where she was trying to get
+over it. In this way he would often succeed in getting as much as half an
+hour's respite from Horace. At last the vicar, panting with his exertions
+and bathed in perspiration, would protest against the form of assault.
+
+"Really, Angleside", he would say, "I believe I could throw straighter
+myself. I'm quite sure Carlo can get her out if you leave him alone".
+
+Whereupon Cornelius would put his hands in his pockets and look on, and
+in a few minutes, when the cat had been driven out and the vicar's back
+was turned, he would slip a sixpence into old Reynold's hand, and follow
+his tutor reluctantly back to the study. Whether there was any connection
+between the cat and the sixpence is uncertain, but during the last months
+of Angleside's stay at the vicarage the ingenuity of Simon Gunn's yellow
+cat in getting over the wire netting reached such a pitch that the vicar
+began to prepare a letter to the Bishop Stortford _Chronicle_ on the
+relations generally existing between cats and asparagus beds.
+
+Another event in the life of the vicarage was the periodical lameness of
+the vicar's strawberry mare, followed by the invariable discovery that
+George Horsnell the village blacksmith had run a nail into her foot when
+he shoed her last. Invariably, also, the vicar threatened that in future
+the mare should be shod by Hawkins the rival blacksmith, who was a
+dissenter and had consequently never been employed by the vicarage.
+Moreover it was generally rumoured once every year that old Nat Barker,
+the octogenarian cripple who had not been able to stand upon his feet for
+twenty years, was at the point of death. He invariably recovered,
+however, in time to put in an appearance by proxy at the distribution of
+a certain dole of a loaf and a shilling on boxing day. It was told also
+that in remote times the Puckeridge hounds had once come that way and
+that the fox had got into the churchyard. A repetition of this stirring
+event was anxiously looked for during many years, every time that the
+said pack met within ten miles of Billingsfield, but hitherto it had been
+looked for in vain. On the whole the life at the vicarage was not
+eventful, and the studies of the two young men who imbibed learning at
+the feet of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose were rarely interrupted.
+
+Mrs. Ambrose herself represented the feminine element in the society of
+the little place. The new doctor was a strange man, suspected of being a
+free-thinker, and he was not married. The Hall, for there was a Hall at
+Billingsfield, was uninhabited, and had been uninhabited for years. The
+estate which belonged to it was unimportant and moreover was in Chancery
+and seemed likely to stay there, for reasons no one ever mentioned at
+Billingsfield, because no one knew anything about them. From time to time
+a legal looking personage drove up to the Duke's Head, which was kept by
+Mr. Abraham Boosey, who was also undertaker to the parish, and which was
+thought to be a very good inn. The legal personage stayed a day or two,
+spending most of his time at the Hall and in driving about to the
+scattered farms which represented the estate, but he never came to the
+vicarage, nor did the vicar ever seem to know what he was doing nor why
+he came. "He came on business"--that was all that anybody knew. His
+business was to collect rents, of course; but what he did with them, no
+one was bold enough to surmise. The estate was in Chancery, it was said,
+and the definition conveyed about as much to the mind of the average
+inhabitant of Billingsfield, as if he had been informed that the moon was
+in perigee or the sun in Scorpio. The practical result of its being in
+Chancery was that no one lived there.
+
+John Short liked Mrs. Ambrose and the Honourable Cornelius behaved to her
+with well bred affability. She always said Cornelius had very nice
+manners, as indeed he had and had need to have. Occasionally, perhaps
+four or five times in the year, the Reverend Edward Pewlay, who had what
+he called a tenor voice, and his wife, who played the pianoforte very
+fairly, came over to assist at a Penny Reading. He lived "over Harlow
+way," as the natives expressed it; he was what was called in those parts
+a rabid Anglican, because he preached in his surplice and had services on
+the Saints' days, and the vicar of Billingsfield did not sympathise in
+his views. Nevertheless he was very useful at Penny Readings, and on one
+of these occasions produced a very ingenious ghost for the delectation of
+the rustics, by means of a piece of plate glass and a couple of lamps.
+
+There had indeed been festivities at the vicarage to which as many as
+three clergymen's wives had been invited, but these were rare indeed. For
+months at a time Mrs. Ambrose reigned in undisputed possession of the
+woman's social rights in Billingsfield. She was an excellent person in
+every way. She had once been handsome and even now she was fine-looking,
+of goodly stature, if also of goodly weight; rosy, even rubicund, in
+complexion, and rotund of feature; looking at you rather severely out of
+her large grey eyes, but able to smile very cheerfully and to show an
+uncommonly good set of teeth; twisting her thick grey hair into a small
+knot at the back of her head and then covering it with a neatly made cap
+which she considered becoming to her time of life; dressed always with
+extreme simplicity and neatness, glorying in her good sense and in her
+stout shoes; speaking of things which she called "neat" with a devotional
+admiration and expressing the extremest height of her disapprobation when
+she said anything was "very untidy." A motherly woman, a practical woman,
+a good housekeeper and a good wife, careful of small things because
+generally only small things came in her way, devotedly attached to her
+husband, whom she regarded with perfect justice as the best man of her
+acquaintance, adding, however, with somewhat precipitous rashness that he
+was the best man in the world. She took also a great interest in his
+pupils and busied herself mightily with their welfare. Since the arrival
+of the new doctor who was suspected of free-thinking, she had shown a
+strong leaning towards homoeopathy, and prescribed small pellets of
+belladonna for the Honourable Cornelius's cold and infinitesimal drops of
+aconite for John Short's headaches, until she observed that John never
+had a headache unless he had worked too much, and Angleside always had a
+cold when he did not want to work at all. Especially in the department of
+the commissariat she showed great activity, and the reputation the vicar
+had acquired for feeding his pupils well had perhaps more to do with his
+success than he imagined. She was never tired of repeating that
+Englishmen needed plenty of good food, and she had no principles which
+she did not practise. She even thought it right to lecture young
+Angleside upon his idleness at stated intervals. He always replied with
+great gentleness that he was awfully stupid, you know, and Mr. Ambrose
+was awfully good about it and he hoped he should not be pulled when he
+went up. And strange to relate he actually passed his examination and
+matriculated, to his own immense astonishment and to the no small honour
+and glory of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, vicar of Billingsfield,
+Essex. But when that great day arrived certain events occurred which are
+worthy to be chronicled and remembered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+In the warm June weather young Angleside went up to pass his examination
+for entrance at Trinity. There is nothing particularly interesting or
+worthy of note in that simple process, though at that time the custom of
+imposing an examination had only been recently imported from Oxford. For
+one whole day forty or fifty young fellows from all parts of the country
+sat at the long dining-tables in the beautiful old hall and wrote as
+busily as they could, answering the printed questions before them, and
+eyeing each other curiously from time to time. The weather was warm and
+sultry, the trees were all in full leaf and Cambridge was deserted. Only
+a few hard-reading men, who stayed up during the Long, wandered out with
+books at the backs of the colleges or strayed slowly through the empty
+courts, objects of considerable interest to the youths who had come up
+for the entrance examination--chiefly pale men in rather shabby clothes
+with old gowns and battered caps, and a general appearance of being the
+worse for wear.
+
+Angleside had been in Cambridge before and consequently lost no time in
+returning to Billingsfield when the examination was over. Short was to
+spend the summer at the vicarage, reading hard until the term began, when
+he was to go up and compete for a minor scholarship; Angleside was to
+wait until he heard whether he had passed, and was then going abroad to
+meet his father and to rest from the extreme exertion of mastering the
+"Apology" and the first books of the "Memorabilia." John drove over to
+meet the Honourable Cornelius, who was in a terrible state of anxiety and
+left him no peace on the way asking him again and again to repeat the
+answers to the questions which had been proposed, reckoning up the ones
+he had answered wrong and the ones he thought he might have answered
+right, and coming each time to a different conclusion, finally lighting a
+huge brierwood pipe and swearing "that it was a beastly shame to subject
+human beings to such awful torture." John calmed him by saying he fancied
+Cornelius had "got through"; for John's words were a species of gospel to
+Cornelius. By the time they reached the vicarage Angleside felt sanguine
+of his success.
+
+The vicar was not visible. It was a strange and unheard of thing--there
+were visitors in the drawing-room. This doubtless accounted for the fact
+that the fly from the Duke's Head was standing on the opposite side of
+the road. The two young men went into their study, which was on the
+ground floor and opened upon the passage which led to the drawing-room
+from the little hall. Angleside remarked that by leaving the door open
+they would catch a glimpse of the visitor when he went out. But the
+visitor stayed long. The curiosity of the two was wrought up to a high
+pitch; it was many months since there had been a real visitor at the
+vicarage. Angleside suggested going out and finding old Reynolds--he
+always knew everything that was going on.
+
+"If we only wait long enough," said Short philosophically, "they are sure
+to come out."
+
+"Perhaps," returned Cornelius rather doubtfully.
+
+"They" did come out. The drawing-room door opened and there was a sound
+of voices. It was a woman's voice, and a particularly sweet voice, too.
+Still no one came down the passage. The lady seemed to be lingering in
+taking her leave. Then there was a sound of small feet and suddenly a
+little girl stood before the open door of the study, looking wonderingly
+at the two young men. Short thought he had never seen such a beautiful
+child. She could not have been more than seven or eight years old, and
+was not tall for her age; a delicate little figure, all in black, with
+long brown curls upon her shoulders, flowing abundantly from beneath a
+round black sailor's hat that was set far back upon her head. The child's
+face was rather pale than very fair, of a beautiful transparent paleness,
+with the least tinge of colour in the cheeks; her great violet eyes gazed
+wonderingly into the study, and her lips parted in childlike uncertainty,
+while her little gloved hand rested on the door-post as though to get a
+sense of security from something so solid.
+
+It was only for a moment. Both the young fellows smiled at the child
+unconsciously. Perhaps she thought they were laughing at her; she turned
+and ran away again; then passed a second time, stealing a long glance at
+the two strangers, but followed immediately by the lady, who was probably
+her mother, and whose voice had been heard for the last few moments. The
+lady, too, glanced in as she went by, and John Short lost his heart then
+and there; not that the lady was beautiful as the little girl was, but
+because there was something in her face, in her figure, in her whole
+carriage, that moved the boy suddenly as she looked at him and sent the
+blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead.
+
+She seemed young, but he never thought of her age. In reality she was
+nine-and-twenty years old but looked younger. She was pale, far paler
+than the little girl, but she had those same violet eyes, large, deep and
+sorrowful, beneath dark, smooth eyebrows that arched high and rose a
+little in the middle. Her mouth was perhaps large for her face but her
+full lips curved gently and seemed able to smile, though she was not
+smiling. Her nose was perhaps too small--her face was far from
+faultless--and it had the slightest tendency to turn up instead of down,
+but it was so delicately modelled that an artist would have pardoned it
+that deviation from the classic. Thick brown hair waved across her white
+forehead and was hidden under the black bonnet and the veil thrown back
+over it. She was dressed in black and the close-fitting gown showed off
+with unconscious vanity the lines of a perfectly moulded and perfectly
+supple figure. But it was especially her eyes which attracted John's
+sudden attention at that first glance, her violet eyes, tender, sad,
+almost pathetic, seeming to ask sympathy and marvellously able to command
+it.
+
+It was but for a moment that she paused. Then came the vicar, following
+her from the drawing-room, and all three went on. Presently Short heard
+the front door open and Mr. Ambrose shouted to the fly.
+
+"Muggins! Muggins!"
+
+No one had ever been able to say why Abraham Boosey, the publican, had
+christened his henchman with an appellation so vulgar, to say the least
+of it--so amazingly cacophonous. The man's real name was plain Charles
+Bird; but Abraham Boosey had christened him Muggins and Muggins he
+remained. Muggins had had some beer and was asleep, for the afternoon was
+hot and he had anticipated his "fours."
+
+Short saw his opportunity and darted out of the study to the hall where
+the lady and her little girl were waiting while the vicar tried to rouse
+the driver of the fly by shouting at him. John blushed again as he passed
+close to the woman with the sad eyes; he could not tell why, but the
+blood mounted to the very roots of his hair, and for a moment he felt
+very foolish.
+
+"I'll wake him up, Mr. Ambrose," he said, running out hatless into the
+summer's sun.
+
+"Wake up, you lazy beggar!" he shouted in the ear of the sleeping
+Muggins, shaking him violently by the arm as he stood upon the wheel.
+Muggins grunted something and smiled rather idiotically. "It was only the
+young gentleman's play," he would have said. Bless you! he did not mind
+being shaken and screamed at! He slowly turned his horses and brought the
+fly up to the door. John walked back and stood waiting.
+
+"Thank you," said the lady in a voice that made his heart jump, as she
+came out from under the porch and the vicar helped her to get in. Then it
+was the turn of the little girl.
+
+"Good-bye, my dear," said the vicar kindly as he took her hand.
+
+"Good-bye," said the child. Then she hesitated and looked at John, who
+was standing beside the clergyman. "Good-bye," she repeated, holding out
+her little hand shyly towards him. John took it and grew redder than ever
+as he felt that the lady was watching him. Then the little girl blushed
+and laughed in her small embarrassment, and climbed into the carriage.
+
+"You will write, then?" asked Mr. Ambrose as he shut the door.
+
+"Yes--and thank you again. You are very, very kind to me," answered the
+lady, and John thought that as she spoke there were tears in her voice.
+She seemed very unhappy and to John she seemed very beautiful. Muggins
+cracked his whip and the fly moved off, leaving the vicar and his pupil
+standing together at the iron wicket gate before the house.
+
+"Well? Do you think Angleside got through?" asked Mr. Ambrose, rather
+anxiously.
+
+Short said he thought Angleside was safe. He hoped the vicar would say
+something about the lady, but to his annoyance, he said nothing at all.
+John could not ask questions, seeing it was none of his business and was
+fain to content himself with thinking of the lady's face and voice. He
+felt very uncomfortable at dinner. He thought the excellent Mrs. Ambrose
+eyed him with unusual severity, as though suspecting what he was thinking
+about, and he thought the vicar's grey eye twinkled occasionally with the
+pleasant sense of possessing a secret he had no intention of imparting.
+As a matter of fact Mrs. Ambrose was supremely unconscious of the fact
+that John had seen the lady, and looked at him with some curiosity,
+observing that he seemed nervous and blushed from time to time and was
+more silent than usual. She came to the conclusion that he had been
+working too hard, as usual, and that night requested him to take two
+little pellets of aconite, and to repeat the dose in the morning. Whether
+it was the result of the homoeopathic medicine or of the lapse of a few
+hours and a good night's rest, it is impossible to say; John, however,
+was himself again the next morning and showed no further signs of
+nervousness. But he kept his eyes and ears open, hoping for some news of
+the exquisite creature who had made so profound an impression on his
+heart.
+
+In due time the joyful news arrived from Cambridge that the Honourable
+Cornelius had passed his examination and was at liberty to matriculate at
+the beginning of the term. The intelligence was duly telegraphed to his
+father, and in a few hours came a despatch in answer, full of
+affectionate congratulation and requesting that Cornelius should proceed
+at once to Paris, where his father was waiting for him. The young man
+took an affectionate leave of the vicar, of Mrs. Ambrose and especially
+of John Short, for whom he had conceived an almost superstitious
+admiration; old Reynolds was not forgotten in the farewell, and for
+several days after Angleside's departure the aged gardener was observed
+to walk somewhat unsteadily and to wear a peculiarly thoughtful
+expression; while the vicar observed with annoyance that Strawberry, the
+old mare, was less carefully groomed than usual. Strangely coincident
+with these phenomena was the fact that Simon Gunn's yellow cat seemed to
+have entirely repented of her evil practices, renouncing from the day
+when Cornelius left for Paris her periodical invasion of the asparagus
+beds at the foot of the garden. But the vicar was too practical a man to
+waste time in speculating upon the occult relations of seemingly
+disconnected facts. He applied himself with diligence to the work of
+preparing John Short to compete for the minor scholarship. The labour was
+congenial. He had never taken a pupil so far before, and it was a genuine
+delight to him to bring his own real powers into play at last. As the
+summer wore on, he predicted all manner of success for John Short, and
+his predictions were destined before long to be realised, for John did
+all he promised to do and more also. To have succeeded in pushing the
+Honourable Cornelius through his entrance examination was a triumph
+indeed, but an uninteresting one at best, and one which had no further
+consequences. But to be the means of turning out the senior classic of
+the University was an honour which would not only greatly increase the
+good vicar's reputation but would be to him a source of the keenest
+satisfaction during the remainder of his life; moreover the prospects
+which would be immediately opened to John in case he obtained such a
+brilliant success would be a very material benefit to his unlucky father,
+whose talents yielded him but a precarious livelihood and whose pitiable
+condition had induced his old schoolfellow to undertake the education of
+his son.
+
+Much depended upon John's obtaining one or more scholarships during his
+career at college. To a man of inferior talents the vicar would have
+suggested that it would be wiser to go to a smaller college than Trinity
+where he would have less competition to expect; but as soon as he
+realised John's powers, he made up his mind that it would be precisely
+where competition was hottest that his pupil would have the greatest
+success. He would get something--perhaps his father would make a little
+more money--the vicar even dreamed of lending John a small sum--something
+would turn up; at all events he must go to the largest college and do
+everything in the best possible way. Meanwhile he must work as hard as he
+could during the few months remaining before the beginning of his first
+term.
+
+Whether the lady ever wrote to Mr. Ambrose, John could not ascertain; she
+was never mentioned at the vicarage, and it seemed as though the mystery
+were never to be solved. But the impression she had made upon the young
+man's mind remained and even gained strength by the working of his
+imagination; for he thought of her night and day, treasuring up every
+memory of her that he could recall, building romances in his mind,
+conceiving the most ingenious reasons for the solitary visit she had made
+to the vicarage, and inwardly vowing that if ever he should be at liberty
+to follow his own inclinations he would go out into the world and search
+for her. He was only eighteen then, and of a strongly susceptible
+temperament. He had seen nothing of the world, for even when living in
+London, in a dingy lodging, with his father, he had been perpetually
+occupied with books, reading much and seeing little. Then he had been at
+school, but he had seen the dark side of school life--the side which boys
+who are known to be very poor generally see; and more than ever he had
+resorted to study for comfort and relief from outward ills. Then at last
+he had been transferred to a serener state in the vicarage of
+Billingsfield and had grown up rapidly from a schoolboy to a young man;
+but, as has been said, the feminine element at the vicarage was solely
+represented by Mrs. Ambrose and the monotony of her maternal society was
+varied only by the occasional visits of the mild young Mrs. Edward
+Pewlay. John Short had indeed a powerful and aspiring imagination, but it
+would have been impossible even by straining that faculty to its utmost
+activity to think in the same breath of romance and of Mrs. Ambrose, for
+even in her youth Mrs. Ambrose had not been precisely a romantic
+character. John's fancy was not stimulated by his surroundings, but it
+fed upon itself and grew fast enough to acquire an influence over
+everything he did. It was not surprising that, when at last chance threw
+in his way a being who seemed instantly to realise and fulfil his wildest
+dreams of beauty and feminine fascination, he should have yielded without
+a struggle to the delicious influence, feeling that henceforth his ideal
+had taken shape and substance, and had thereby become more than ever the
+ideal in which he delighted.
+
+He gave her names, a dozen of them every day, christening her after every
+heroine in fiction and history of whom he had ever read. But no name
+seemed to suit her well enough; whereupon he wrote a Greek ode and a
+Latin epistle to the fair unknown, but omitted to show them to the
+Reverend Augustin Ambrose, though he was quite certain that they were the
+best he had ever produced. Then he began to write a novel, but suddenly
+recollected that a famous author had written one entitled "No Name," and
+as that was the only title he could possibly give to the work he
+contemplated he of course had no choice but to abandon the work itself.
+He wrote more verses, and he dreamed more dreams, and he meanwhile
+acquired much learning and in process of time realised that he had but a
+few days longer to stay at Billingsfield. The Michaelmas term was about
+to open and he must bid farewell to the hospitable roof and the learned
+conversation of the good vicar. But when those last days came he realised
+that he was leaving the scene of his only dream, and his heart grew sad.
+
+Indeed he loved the old red brick vicarage with its low porch, overgrown
+with creepers, its fragrant old flower garden, surrounding it on three
+sides, its gabled roof, its south wall whereon the vicar constantly
+attempted to train fig trees, maintaining that the climate of England had
+grown warmer and that he would prove it--John loved it all, and
+especially he loved the little study, lined with the books grown familiar
+to him, and the study door, the door through which he had seen that
+lovely face which he firmly believed was to inspire him to do great
+things and to influence his whole life for ever after. He would leave the
+door open and place himself just where he had sat that day, and then he
+would look suddenly up with beating heart, almost fancying he could again
+see those violet eyes gazing at him from the dusky passage--blushing then
+to himself, like any girl, and burying himself in his book till the fancy
+was grown too strong and he looked up again. He had attempted to sketch
+her face on a bit of paper; but he had no skill and he thrust the drawing
+into the paper basket, horrified at having made anything so hideous in
+the effort to represent anything so beautiful, and returned to making
+odes upon her, and Latin epistles, in which he succeeded much better.
+
+And now the time had come when he must leave all this dreaming, or at
+least the scene of it, and go to college and win scholarships and renown.
+It was hard to go and he showed his regret so plainly that Mrs. Ambrose
+was touched at what she took for his affection for the place and for
+herself and for the vicar. John Short was indeed very grateful to her for
+all the kindness she had shown him, and to Mr. Ambrose for the learning
+he had acquired; for John was a fine fellow and never forgot an
+obligation nor undervalued one. But when we are very young our hearts are
+far more easily touched to joy and sadness by the chords and discords of
+our own dreaming, than by the material doings of the world around us, or
+by the strong and benevolent interest our elders are good enough to take
+in us. We feel grateful to those same elders if we have any good in us,
+but we are far from feeling a similar interest in them. We see in our
+imaginations wonderful pictures, and we hear wonderful words, for
+everything we dream of partakes of an unknown perfection and completely
+throws into the shade the inartistic commonplaces of daily life. As John
+Short grew older, he often regretted the society of his old tutor and in
+the frequent absence of important buttons from his raiment he bitterly
+realised that there was no longer a motherly Mrs. Ambrose to inspect his
+linen; but when he took leave of them what hurt him most was to turn his
+back upon the beloved old study, upon the very door through which he had
+once, and only once, beheld the ideal of his first love dream.
+
+Though the vicar was glad to see the boy started upon what he already
+regarded as a career of certain victory, he was sorry to lose him, not
+knowing when he should see him again. John intended to read through all
+the vacations until he got his degree. He might indeed have come down for
+a day or two at Christmas, but with his very slender resources even so
+short a pleasure trip was not to be thought of lightly. It was therefore
+to be a long separation, so long to look forward to that when John saw
+the shabby little box which contained, all his worldly goods put up into
+the back of the vicar's dogcart, and stood at last in the hall, saying
+good-bye, he felt as though he was being thrust out into the world never
+to return again; his heart seemed to rise in his throat, the tears stood
+in his eyes and he could hardly speak a word. Even then he thought of
+that day when he had waked up the sleepy Muggins to take away the
+beautiful unknown lady. He felt he must be quick about his leave-taking,
+or he would break down.
+
+"You have been very good to me. I--I shall never forget it," he murmured
+as he shook hands with Mrs. Ambrose. "And you, too, sir--" he added
+turning to the vicar. But the old clergyman cut him short, being himself
+rather uncertain about the throat.
+
+"Good-bye, my lad. God bless you. We shall hear of you soon--showing them
+what you can do with your Alcaics--Good-bye."
+
+So John got into the dogcart and was driven off by the ancient
+Reynolds--past the "Duke's Head," past the "Feathers," past the
+churchyard and the croft--the "croat," they called it in
+Billingsfield--and on by the windmill on the heath, a hideous bit of
+grassless common euphemistically so named, and so out to the high-road
+towards the railway station, feeling very miserable indeed. It is a
+curious fact, too, in the history of his psychology that in proportion as
+he got farther from the vicarage he thought more and more of his old
+tutor and less and less of his unfinished dream, and he realised
+painfully that the vicar was nearly the only friend he had in the world.
+He would of course find Cornelius Angleside at Cambridge, but he
+suspected that Cornelius, turned loose among a merry band of
+undergraduates of his own position would be a very different person from
+the idle youth he had known at Billingsfield, trembling in the intervals
+of his idleness at the awful prospect of the entrance examination, and
+frantically attempting to master some bit of stray knowledge which might
+possibly be useful to him. Cornelius would hunt, would gamble, would go
+to the races and would give wines at college; John was to be a reading
+man who must avoid such things as he would avoid the devil himself, not
+only because he was too wretchedly poor to have any share whatever in the
+amusements of Cornelius and his set, but because every minute was
+important, every hour meant not only learning but meant, most
+emphatically, money. He thought of his poor father, grinding out the life
+of a literary hack in a wretched London lodging, dining Heaven knew where
+and generally supping not at all, saving every penny to help his son's
+education, hard working, honest, lacking no virtue except the virtue of
+all virtues--success. Then he thought how he himself had been favoured by
+fortune during these last years, living under the vicar's roof, treated
+with the same consideration as the high-born young gentlemen who had been
+his companions, living well, sleeping well and getting the best education
+in England for nothing or next to nothing, while that same father of his
+had never ceased to slave day and night with his pen, honestly doing his
+best and yet enjoying none of the good things of life. John thought of
+all this and set his teeth boldly to face the world. A few months, he
+thought, and he might have earned a scholarship--he might be independent.
+Then a little longer--less than three years--and he might, nay, he would,
+take high honours in the university and come back crowned with glory,
+with the prospect of a fellowship, with every profession open to him,
+with the world at his feet and with money in his hand to help his father
+out of all his troubles.
+
+That was how John Short went to Trinity. It was a hard struggle at first,
+for he found himself much poorer than he had imagined, and it seemed as
+though the ends could not possibly meet. There was no question of denying
+himself luxuries; that would have been easy enough. In those first months
+it was the necessities that he lacked, the coals for his little grate,
+the oil for his one small lamp. But he fought bravely through it, having,
+like many another young fellow who has weathered the storms of poverty in
+pursuit of learning, an iron constitution, and an even stronger will. He
+used to say long afterwards that feeling cold was a mere habit and that
+when one thoroughly understood the construction of Greek verses, some
+stimulus of physical discomfort was necessary to make the imagination
+work well; in support of which assertion he said that he had never done
+such good things by the comfortable fire in the study at Billingsfield
+vicarage as he did afterwards on winter nights by the light of a tallow
+candle, high up in Neville's Court. Moreover, if any one argued that it
+was better for an extremely poor man not to go to Trinity, but to some
+much smaller college, he answered that as far as he himself was concerned
+he could not have done better, which was quite true and therefore
+perfectly unanswerable. Where the competition was less, he would have
+been satisfied with less, he said; where it was greatest a man could only
+be contented when he had reached the highest point possible. But before
+he attained his end he suffered more than any one knew, especially during
+those first months. For when he had got his first scholarship, he
+insisted upon sending back the little sums of hard-earned money his
+father sent him from time to time, and he consequently had nearly as hard
+work as before to keep himself warm and to keep oil in his lamp during
+the long winter's evenings. But he succeeded, nevertheless.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+In the month of October of that year, a short time after John had taken
+up his abode in Trinity College, an event occurred which shook
+Billingsfield to its foundations; no less an event than the occupation of
+the dwelling known as the "cottage." What the cottage was will appear
+hereafter. The arrival of the new tenants occurred in the following
+manner.
+
+The Reverend Augustin Ambrose received a letter, which he immediately
+showed to his wife, as he showed most of his correspondence; for he was
+of the disposition which may be termed wife-consulting. Married men are
+generally of two kinds; those who tell their wives everything and those
+who tell them nothing. It is evident that the relative merits of the two
+systems depend chiefly upon the relative merits of the wives in question.
+Mr. Ambrose had no doubt of the advantages of his own method and he
+carried it to its furthest expression, for he never did anything whatever
+without consulting his better half. On the whole the plan worked well,
+for the vicar had learning and his wife had common sense. He therefore
+showed the letter to her and she read it, and read it again, and finally
+put it away, writing across the envelope in her own large, clear hand the
+words--Goddard, Cottage--indicative of the contents.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"MY DEAR SIR--It is now nearly five months since I saw you last. Need I
+tell you that the sense of your kindness is still fresh in my memory? You
+do not know, indeed you cannot know, what an impression your goodness
+made upon me. You showed me that I was acting rightly. It has been so
+hard to act rightly. Of course you quite understand what I mean. I cannot
+refer to the great sorrow which has overtaken me and my dear innocent
+little Nellie. There is no use in referring to it, for I have told you
+all. You allowed me to unburden my heart to you during my brief visit,
+and ever since that day I have felt very much, I may say infinitely,
+relieved.
+
+"I am again about to ask you a favour; I trust indeed that I am not
+asking too much, but I know by experience how kind you are and so I am
+not afraid to ask this too. Do you remember speaking to me of the little
+cottage? The picture you drew of it quite charmed me, and I have
+determined to take it, that is, if it is still to be let and if it is not
+asking quite too much of you. I mean, if you will take it for me. You
+cannot think how grateful I shall be and I enclose a cheque. I am almost
+sure you said thirty-six pounds. It was thirty-six, was it not? The
+reason I venture to enclose the money is because you are so very kind,
+but of course you do not know anything certain about me. But I am sure
+you will understand. You said you were sure I could live with my little
+girl in Billingsfield for three hundred a year. I find I have a little
+more, in fact nearly five hundred. If you tell me that I can have the
+cottage, I will come down at once, for town is very dreary and we have
+been here all summer except a week at Margate. Let me thank you again,
+you have been so very kind, and believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely
+yours,
+
+"MARY GODDARD."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Augustin, my dear, this is very exciting," said Mrs. Ambrose, as she
+handed the cheque to her husband for inspection and returned the
+letter to its envelope, preparatory to marking it for future reference;
+and when, as has been said, she had written upon the outside the
+words--Goddard, Cottage, and had put it away she turned upon her husband
+with an inquiring manner peculiar to her. Mr. Ambrose was standing before
+the window, looking out at the rain and occasionally glancing at the
+cheque he still held in his hand.
+
+"Just like a woman to send a cheque to 'bearer' through the post," he
+remarked, severely. "However since I have got it, it is all right."
+
+"I don't think it is all right, Augustin," said his wife. "We are taking
+a great responsibility in bringing her into the parish. I am quite sure
+she is a dissenter or a Romanist or something dreadful, to begin with."
+
+"My dear," answered the vicar, mildly, "you make very uncharitable
+suppositions. It seems to me that the most one can say of her is that she
+is very unhappy and that she does not write very good English."
+
+"Oh, I have no doubt she is very unhappy. But as you say we must not be
+uncharitable. I suppose you will have to write about the cottage."
+
+"I suppose so," said Mr. Ambrose doubtfully. "I cannot send her back the
+money, and the cottage is certainly to let."
+
+He deposited the cheque in the drawer of his writing-table and began to
+walk up and down the room, glancing up from time to time at his wife who
+was lifting one after another the ornaments which stood upon the
+chimney-piece, in order to ascertain whether Susan had dusted underneath
+them. She had many ways of assuring herself that people did their work
+properly.
+
+"No," said she, "you cannot send her back the money. But it is a very
+solemn responsibility. I hope we are doing quite right."
+
+"I certainly would not hesitate to return the cheque, my dear, if I
+thought any harm would come of Mrs. Goddard's living here. But I don't
+think there is any reason to doubt her story."
+
+"Of course not. It was in the _Standard_, so there is no doubt about it.
+I only hope no one else reads the papers here."
+
+"They read them in the kitchen," added Mrs. Ambrose presently, "and they
+probably take a paper at the Duke's Head. Mr. Boosey is rather a literary
+character."
+
+"Nobody will suppose it was that Goddard, my dear," said the vicar in a
+reassuring tone of voice.
+
+"No--you had better write about the cottage."
+
+"I will," said the vicar; and he forthwith did. And moreover, with his
+usual willingness to give himself trouble for other people, he took a
+vast deal of pains to see that the cottage was really habitable. It
+turned out to be in very good condition. It was a pretty place enough,
+standing ten yards back from the road, beyond the village, just opposite
+the gates of the park; a little square house of red brick with a high
+pointed roof and a little garden. The walls were overgrown with creepers
+which had once been trained with considerable care, but which during the
+last two years had thriven in untrimmed luxuriance and now covered the
+whole of the side of the house which faced the road. So thickly did they
+grow that it was with difficulty that the windows could at first be
+opened. The vicar sighed as he entered the darkened rooms. His daughter
+had lived in the cottage when she first married the young doctor who had
+now gone to London, and the vicar had been, and was, very fond of his
+daughter. He had almost despaired of ever seeing her again in
+Billingsfield; the only glimpses of her he could obtain were got by going
+himself to town, for the doctor was so busy that he always put off the
+projected visit to the country and his wife was so fond of him that she
+refused to go alone. The vicar sighed as he forced open the windows upon
+the lower floor and let the light into the bare and empty rooms which had
+once been so bright and full of happiness. He wondered what sort of
+person Mrs. Goddard would turn out to be upon nearer acquaintance, and
+made vague, unconscious conjectures about her furniture as he stumbled
+up the dark stairs to the upper story.
+
+He was not left long in doubt. The arrangements were easily concluded,
+for the cottage belonged to the estate in Chancery and the lawyer in
+charge was very busy with other matters. The guarantee afforded by the
+vicar's personal application, together with the payment of a year's rent
+in advance so far facilitated matters that four days after she had
+written to Mr. Ambrose the latter informed Mrs. Goddard that she was at
+liberty to take possession. The vicar suggested that the Billingsfield
+carrier, who drove his cart to London once a week, could bring her
+furniture down in two trips and save her a considerable expense; Mrs.
+Goddard accepted this advice and in the course of a fortnight was
+installed with all her goods in the cottage. Having completed her
+arrangements at last, she came to call upon the vicar's wife.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had not changed since she had first visited Billingsfield,
+five months earlier, though little Eleanor had grown taller and was if
+possible prettier than ever. Something of the character of the lady in
+black may have been gathered from the style of her letter to Mr. Ambrose;
+that communication had impressed the vicar's wife unfavourably and had
+drawn from her husband a somewhat compassionate remark about the bad
+English it contained. Nevertheless when Mrs. Goddard came to live in
+Billingsfield the Ambroses soon discovered that she was a very
+well-educated woman, that she appeared to have read much and to have read
+intelligently, and that she was on the whole decidedly interesting. It
+was long, however, before Mrs. Ambrose entirely conquered a certain
+antipathy she felt for her, and which she explained after her own
+fashion. Mrs. Goddard was not a dissenter and she was not a Romanist; on
+the contrary she appeared to be a very good churchwoman. She paid her
+bills regularly and never gave anybody any trouble. She visited the
+vicarage at stated intervals, and the vicarage graciously returned her
+visits. The vicar himself even went to the cottage more often than Mrs.
+Ambrose thought strictly necessary, for the vicar was strongly prejudiced
+in her favour. But Mrs. Ambrose did not share that prejudice. Mrs.
+Goddard, she said, was too effusive, talked too much about herself and
+her troubles, did not look thoroughly straightforward, probably had
+foreign blood. Ay, there was the rub--Mrs. Ambrose suspected that Mrs.
+Goddard was not quite English. If she was not, why did she not say so,
+and be done with it?
+
+Mrs. Goddard was English, nevertheless, and would have been very much
+surprised could she have guessed the secret cause of the slight coldness
+she sometimes observed in the manner of the clergyman's wife towards her.
+She herself, poor thing, believed it was because she was in trouble, and
+considering the nature of the disaster which had befallen her, she was
+not surprised. She was rather a weak woman, rather timid, and if she
+talked a little too much sometimes it was because she felt embarrassed;
+there were times, too, when she was very silent and sad. She had been
+very happy and the great catastrophe had overtaken her suddenly, leaving
+her absolutely without friends. She wanted to be hidden from the world,
+and by one of those strange contrasts often found in weak people she had
+suddenly made a very bold resolution and had successfully carried it out.
+She had come straight to a man she had never seen, but whom she knew very
+well by reputation, and had told him her story and asked him to help her;
+and she had not come in vain. The person who advised her to go to the
+Reverend Augustin Ambrose knew that there was not a better man to whom
+she could apply. She had found what she wanted, a sort of deserted
+village where she would never be obliged to meet any one, since there was
+absolutely no society; she had found a good man upon whom she felt she
+could rely in case of further difficulty; and she had not come upon false
+pretences, for she had told her whole story quite frankly. For a woman
+who was naturally timid she had done a thing requiring considerable
+courage, and she was astonished at her own boldness after she had done
+it. But in her peaceful retreat, she reflected that she could not
+possibly have left England, as many women in her position would have
+done, simply because the idea of exile was intolerable to her; she
+reflected also that if she had settled in any place where there was any
+sort of society her story would one day have become known, and that if
+she had spent years in studying her situation she could not have done
+better than in going boldly to the vicar of Billingsfield and explaining
+her sad position to him. She had found a haven of rest after many months
+of terrible anxiety and she hoped that she might end her days in peace
+and in the spot she had chosen. But she was very young--not thirty years
+of age yet--and her little girl would soon grow up--and then? Evidently
+her dream of peace was likely to be of limited duration; but she resigned
+herself to the unpleasant possibilities of the future with a good grace,
+in consideration of the advantages she enjoyed in the present.
+
+Mrs. Ambrose was at home when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor came to the
+vicarage. Indeed Mrs. Ambrose was rarely out in the afternoon, unless
+something very unusual called her away. She received her visitor with the
+stern hospitality she exercised towards strangers. The strangers she saw
+were generally the near relations of the young gentlemen whom her husband
+received for educational purposes. She stood in the front drawing-room,
+that is to say, in the most impressive chamber of that fortress which is
+an Englishman's house. It was a formal room, arranged by a fixed rule and
+the order of it was maintained inflexibly; no event could be imagined of
+such terrible power as to have caused the displacement of one of those
+chairs, of one of those ornaments upon the chimney-piece, of one of those
+engravings upon the walls. The walls were papered with one shade of
+green, the furniture was covered with material of another shade of green
+and the well-spared carpet exhibited still a third variety of the same
+colour. Mrs. Ambrose's sense of order did not extend to the simplest
+forms of artistic harmony, but when it had an opportunity of impressing
+itself upon inanimate objects which were liable to be moved, washed or
+dusted, its effects were formidable indeed. She worshipped neatness and
+cleanliness; she left the question of taste to others. And now she stood
+in the keep of her stronghold, the impersonation of moral rectitude and
+of practical housekeeping.
+
+Mrs. Goddard entered rather timidly, followed by little Eleanor whose
+ideas had been so much disturbed by the recent change in her existence,
+that she had grown unusually silent and her great violet eyes were
+unceasingly opened wide to take in the growing wonders of her situation.
+Mrs. Goddard was still dressed in black, as when John Short had seen her
+five months earlier. There was something a little peculiar in her
+mourning, though Mrs. Ambrose would have found it hard to define the
+peculiarity. Some people would have said that if she was really a widow
+her gown fitted a little too well, her bonnet was a little too small, her
+veil a little too short. Mrs. Ambrose supposed that those points were
+suggested by the latest fashions in London and summed up the difficulty
+by surmising that Mrs. Goddard had foreign blood.
+
+"I should have called before," said the latter, deeply impressed by the
+severe appearance of the vicar's wife, "but I have been so busy putting
+my things into the cottage--"
+
+"Pray don't think of it," answered Mrs. Ambrose. Then she added after a
+pause, "I am very glad to see you." She appeared to have been weighing in
+her conscience the question whether she could truthfully say so or not.
+But Mrs. Goddard was grateful for the smallest advances.
+
+"Thank you," she said, "you are so very kind. Will you tell Mr. Ambrose
+how thankful I am for his kind assistance? Yes, Nellie and I have had
+hard work in moving, have not we, dear?" She drew the beautiful child
+close to her and gazed lovingly into her eyes. But Nellie was shy; she
+hid her face on her mother's shoulder, and then looked doubtfully at Mrs.
+Ambrose, and then hid herself again.
+
+"How old is your little girl?" asked Mrs. Ambrose more kindly. She was
+fond of children, and actually pitied any child whose mother perhaps had
+foreign blood.
+
+"Eleanor--I call her Nellie--is eight years old. She will be nine in
+January. She is tall for her age," added Mrs. Goddard with affectionate
+pride. As a matter of fact Nellie was small for her years, and Mrs.
+Ambrose, who was the most truthful of women, felt that she could not
+conscientiously agree in calling hex tall. She changed the subject.
+
+"I am afraid you will find it very quiet in Billingsfield," she said
+presently.
+
+"Oh, I am used--that is, I prefer a very quiet place. I want to live very
+quietly for some years, indeed I hope for the rest of my life. Besides it
+will be so good for Nellie to live in the country--she will grow so
+strong."
+
+"She looks very well, I am sure," answered Mrs. Ambrose rather bluntly,
+looking at the child's clear complexion and bright eyes. "And have you
+always lived in town until now, Mrs. Goddard?" she asked.
+
+"Oh no, not always, but most of the year, perhaps. Indeed I think so."
+Mrs. Goddard felt nervous before the searching glance of the elder woman.
+Mrs. Ambrose concluded that she was not absolutely straightforward.
+
+"Do you think you can make the cottage comfortable?" asked the vicar's
+wife, seeing that the conversation languished.
+
+"Oh, I think so," answered her visitor, glad to change the subject, and
+suddenly becoming very voluble as she had previously been very shy. "It
+is really a charming little place. Of course it is not very large, but as
+we have not got very many belongings that is all the better; and the
+garden is small but extremely pretty and wild, and the kitchen is very
+convenient; really I quite wonder how the people who built it could have
+made it all so comfortable. You see there are one--two--the pantry, the
+kitchen and two rooms on the ground floor and plenty of room upstairs for
+everybody, and as for the sun! it streams into all the windows at once
+from morning till night. And such a pretty view, too, of that old gate
+opposite--where does it lead to, Mrs. Ambrose? It is so very pretty."
+
+"It leads to the park and the Hall," answered Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Oh--" Mrs. Goddard's tone changed. "But nobody lives there?" she asked
+suddenly.
+
+"Oh no--it is in Chancery, you know."
+
+"What--what is that, exactly?" asked Mrs. Goddard, timidly. "Is there a
+young heir waiting to grow up--I mean waiting to take possession?"
+
+"No. There is a suit about it. It has been going on for forty years my
+husband says, and they cannot decide to whom it belongs."
+
+"I see," answered Mrs. Goddard. "I suppose they will never decide now."
+
+"Probably not for some time."
+
+"It must be a very pretty place. Can one go in, do you think? I am so
+fond of trees--what a beautiful garden you have yourself, Mrs. Ambrose."
+
+"Would you like to see it?" asked the vicar's wife, anxious to bring the
+visit to a conclusion.
+
+"Oh, thank you--of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "Would not you
+like to run about the garden, Nellie?"
+
+The little girl nodded slowly and stared at Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"My husband is a very good gardener," said the latter, leading the way
+out to the hall. "And so was John Short, but he has left us, you know."
+
+"Who was John Short?" asked Mrs. Goddard rather absently, as she watched
+Mrs. Ambrose who was wrapping herself in a huge blue waterproof cloak and
+tying a sort of worsted hood over her head.
+
+"He was one of the boys Mr. Ambrose prepared for college--such a good
+fellow. You may have seen him when you came last June, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"Had he very bright blue eyes--a nice face?"
+
+"Yes--that is, it might have been Mr. Angleside--Lord Scatterbeigh's
+son--he was here, too."
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Goddard, "perhaps it was."
+
+"Mamma," asked little Nellie, "what is Laws Catterbay?"
+
+"A peer, darling."
+
+"Like the one at Brighton, mamma, with a band?"
+
+"No, child," answered the mother laughing. "P, double E, R, peer--a rich
+gentleman."
+
+"Like poor papa then?" inquired the irrepressible Eleanor.
+
+Mrs. Goddard turned pale and pressed the little girl close to her side,
+leaning down to whisper in her ear.
+
+"You must not ask foolish questions, darling--I will tell you by and by."
+
+"Papa was a rich gentleman," objected the child.
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked at Mrs. Ambrose, and the ready tears came into her
+eyes. The vicar's wife smiled kindly and took little Nellie by the hand.
+
+"Come, dear," she said in the motherly tone that was natural to her when
+she was not receiving visitors. "Come and see the garden and you can play
+with Carlo."
+
+"Can't I see Laws Catterbay, too?" asked the little girl rather
+wistfully.
+
+"Carlo is a great, big, brown dog," said Mrs. Ambrose, leading the child
+out into the garden, while Mrs. Goddard followed close behind. Before
+they had gone far they came upon the vicar, arrayed in an old coat, his
+hands thrust into a pair of gigantic gardening gloves and a battered old
+felt hat upon his head. Mrs. Goddard had felt rather uncomfortable in the
+impressive society of Mrs. Ambrose and the sight of the vicar's genial
+face was reassuring in the extreme. She was not disappointed, for he
+immediately relieved the situation by asking all manner of kindly
+questions, interspersed with remarks upon his garden, while Mrs. Ambrose
+introduced little Nellie to the acquaintance of Carlo who had not seen so
+pretty a little girl for many a day, and capered and wagged his feathery
+tail in a manner most unseemly for so clerical a dog.
+
+So it came about that Mrs. Goddard established herself at Billingsfield
+and made her first visit to the vicarage. After that the ice was broken
+and things went on smoothly enough. Mrs. Ambrose's hints concerning
+foreign blood, and her husband's invariable remonstrance to the effect
+that she ought to be more charitable, grew more and more rare as time
+went on, and finally ceased altogether. Mrs. Goddard became a regular
+institution, and ceased to astonish the inhabitants. Mr. Thomas Reid, the
+sexton, was heard to remark from time to time that he "didn't hold with
+th'm newfangle fashins in dress;" but he was a regular old conservative,
+and most people agreed with Mr. Abraham Boosey of the Duke's Head, who
+had often been to London, and who said she did "look just A one, slap up,
+she did!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard became an institution, and in the course of the first year
+of her residence in the cottage it came to be expected that she should
+dine at the vicarage at least once a week; and once a week, also, Mr. and
+Mrs. Ambrose went up and had tea with her and little Eleanor at the
+cottage. It came to pass also that Mrs. Goddard heard a vast deal of talk
+about John Short and his successes at Trinity, and she actually developed
+a lively interest in his career, and asked for news of him almost as
+eagerly as though he had been already a friend of her own. In very quiet
+places people easily get into the sympathetic habit of regarding their
+neighbours' interests as very closely allied to their own. The constant
+talk about John Short, the vicar's sanguine hopes for his brilliant
+future, and Mrs. Ambrose's unlimited praise of his moral qualities,
+repeated day by day and week by week produced a vivid impression on Mrs.
+Goddard's mind. It would have surprised her and even amused her beyond
+measure had she had any idea that she herself had for a long time
+absorbed the interest of this same John Short, that he had written
+hundreds of Greek and Latin verses in her praise, while wholly ignorant
+of her name, and that at the very time when without knowing him, she was
+constantly mentioning him as though she knew him intimately well, he
+himself was looking back to the one glimpse he had had of her, as to a
+dream of unspeakable bliss.
+
+It never occurred to Mr. Ambrose's mind to tell John in the occasional
+letters he wrote that Mrs. Goddard had settled in Billingsfield. John, he
+thought, could take no possible interest in knowing about her, and
+moreover, Mrs. Goddard herself was most anxious never to be mentioned
+abroad. She had come to Billingsfield to live in complete obscurity, and
+the good vicar had promised that as far as he and his wife were concerned
+she should have her wish. To tell even John Short, his own beloved pupil,
+would be to some extent a breach of faith, and there was assuredly no
+earthly reason why John should be told. It might do harm, for of course
+the young fellow had made acquaintances at Cambridge; he had probably
+read about the Goddard case in the papers, and might talk about it. If he
+should happen to come down for a day or two he would probably meet her;
+but that could not be avoided. It was not likely that he would come for
+some time. The vicar himself intended to go up to Cambridge for a day or
+two after Christmas to see him; but the winter flew by and Mr. Ambrose
+did not go. Then came Easter, then the summer and the Long vacation. John
+wrote that he could not leave his books for a day, but that he hoped to
+run down next Christmas. Again he did not come, but there came the news
+of his having won another and a more important scholarship; the news also
+that he was already regarded as the most promising man in the university,
+all of which exceedingly delighted the heart of the Reverend Augustin
+Ambrose, and being told with eulogistic comments to Mrs. Goddard, tended
+to increase the interest she felt in the existence of John Short, so that
+she began to long for a sight of him, without exactly knowing why.
+
+Gradually, too, as she and her little girl passed many peaceful days in
+the quiet cottage, the sad woman's face grew less sorrowful. She spoke of
+herself more cheerfully and dwelt less upon the subject of her grief. She
+had at first been so miserable that she could hardly talk at all without
+referring to her unhappy situation though, after her first interview with
+Mrs. Ambrose, no one had ever heard her mention any details connected
+with her trouble. But now she never approached the subject at all. Her
+face lost none of its pathetic beauty, it is true, but it seemed to
+express sorrow past rather than present. Meanwhile little Nellie grew
+daily more lovely, and absorbed more and more of her mother's attention.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+Events of such stirring interest as the establishment of Mrs. Goddard in
+Billingsfield rarely come alone; for it seems to be in the nature of
+great changes to bring other changes with them, even when there is no
+apparent connection whatever between them. It took nearly two years for
+Billingsfield to recover from its astonishment at Mrs. Goddard's arrival,
+and before the excitement had completely worn off the village was again
+taken off its feet by unexpected news of stupendous import, even as of
+old Pompeii was overthrown by a second earthquake before it had wholly
+recovered from the devastation caused by the first. The shock was indeed
+a severe one. The Juxon estate was reported to be out of Chancery, and a
+new squire was coming to take up his residence at the Hall.
+
+It is not known exactly how the thing first became known, but there was
+soon no doubt whatever that it was true. Thomas Reid, the sexton, who
+remembered that the old squire died forty years ago come Michaelmas, and
+had been buried in a "wonderful heavy" coffin, Thomas Reid the stern
+censor of the vicar's sermons, a melancholic and sober man, so far lost
+his head over the news as to ask Mr. Ambrose's leave to ring the bells,
+Mr. Abraham Boosey having promised beer for the ringers. Even to the
+vicar's enlightened mind it seemed fitting that there should be some
+festivity over so great an event and the bells were accordingly rung
+during one whole afternoon. Thomas Reid's ringers never got beyond the
+first "bob" of a peal, for with the exception of the sexton himself and
+old William Speller the wheelwright, who pulled the treble bell, they
+were chiefly dull youths who with infinite difficulty had been taught
+what changes they knew by rote and had very little idea of ringing by
+scientific rule. Moreover Mr. Boosey was liberal in the matter of beer
+that day and the effect of each successive can that was taken up the
+stairs of the old tower was immediately apparent to every one within
+hearing, that is to say as far as five miles around.
+
+The estate was out of Chancery at last. For forty years, ever since the
+death of the old squire, no one had rightfully called the Hall his own.
+The heir had lived abroad, and had lived in such an exceedingly eccentric
+manner as to give ground for a suit _de lunatico inquirendo_, brought by
+another heir. With the consistency of judicial purpose which
+characterises such proceedings the courts appeared to have decided that
+though the natural possessor, the eccentric individual who lived abroad,
+was too mad to be left in actual possession, he was not mad enough to
+justify actual possession in the person of the next of kin. Proceedings
+continued, fees were paid, a certain legal personage already mentioned
+came down from time to time and looked over the estate, but the matter
+was not finally settled until the eccentric individual died, after forty
+years of eccentricity, to the infinite relief and satisfaction of all
+parties and especially of his lawful successor Charles James Juxon now,
+at last, "of Billingsfield Hall, in the county of Essex, Esquire."
+
+In due time also Mr. Juxon appeared. It was natural that he should come
+to see the vicar, and as it happened that he called late in the afternoon
+upon the day when Mrs. Goddard and little Eleanor were accustomed to dine
+at the vicarage, he at once had an opportunity of making the acquaintance
+of his tenant; thus, if we except the free-thinking doctor, it will be
+seen that Mr. Juxon was in the course of five minutes introduced to the
+whole of the Billingsfield society.
+
+He was a man inclining towards middle age, of an active and vigorous
+body, of a moderate intelligence and of decidedly prepossessing
+appearance. His features were of the strong, square type, common to men
+whose fathers for many generations have lived in the country. His eyes
+were small, blue and very bright, and to judge from the lines in his
+sunburned face he was a man who laughed often and heartily. He had an
+abundance of short brown hair, parted very far upon one side and brushed
+to a phenomenal smoothness, and he wore a full brown beard, cut rather
+short and carefully trimmed. He immediately won the heart of Mrs. Ambrose
+on account of his extremely neat appearance. There was no foreign blood
+in him, she was sure. He had large clean hands with large and polished
+nails. He wore very well made clothes, and he spoke like a gentleman.
+The vicar, too, was at once prepossessed in his favour, and even little
+Eleanor, who was generally very shy before strangers, looked at him
+admiringly and showed little of her usual bashfulness. But Mrs. Goddard
+seemed ill at ease and tried to keep out of the conversation as much as
+possible.
+
+"There have been great rejoicings at the prospect of your arrival," said
+the vicar when the new-comer had been introduced to both the ladies. "I
+fancy that if you had let it be known that you were coming down to-day
+the people would have turned out to meet you at the station."
+
+"The truth is, I rather avoid that sort of thing," said the squire,
+smiling. "I would rather enter upon my dominions as quietly as possible."
+
+"It is much better for the people, too," remarked Mrs. Ambrose. "Their
+idea of a holiday is to do no work and have too much beer."
+
+"I daresay that would not hurt them much," answered Mr. Juxon cheerfully.
+"By the bye, I know nothing about them. I have never been here before.
+My man of business wanted to come down and show me over the estate, and
+introduce me to the farmers and all that, but I thought it would be such
+a bore that I would not have him."
+
+"There is not much to tell, really," said Mr. Ambrose. "The society of
+Billingsfield is all here," he added with a smile, "including one of your
+tenants."
+
+"Are you my tenant?" asked Mr. Juxon pleasantly, and he looked at Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"Yes," said she, "I have taken the cottage."
+
+"The cottage? Excuse me, but you know I am a stranger here--what is the
+cottage?"
+
+"Such a pretty place," answered Mrs. Ambrose, "just opposite the park
+gate. You must have seen it as you came down."
+
+"Oh, is that it?" said the squire. "Yes, I saw it, and I wished I lived
+there instead of in the Hall. It looks so comfortable and small. The Hall
+is a perfect wilderness."
+
+Mrs. Goddard felt a sudden fear lest her new landlord should take it into
+his head to give her notice. She only took the cottage by the year and
+her present lease ended in October. The arrival of a squire in possession
+at the Hall was a catastrophe to which she had not looked forward. The
+idea troubled her. She had accidentally made Mr. Juxon's acquaintance,
+and she knew enough of the world to understand that in such a place he
+would regard her as a valuable addition to the society of the vicar and
+the vicar's wife. She would meet him constantly; there would be visitors
+at the Hall--she would have to meet them, too. Her dream of solitude was
+at an end. For a moment she seemed so nervous that Mr. Juxon observed her
+embarrassment and supposed it was due to his remark about living in the
+cottage himself.
+
+"Do not be afraid, Mrs. Goddard," he said quickly, "I am not going to do
+anything so uncivil as to ask you to give up the cottage. Besides, it
+would be too small, you know."
+
+"Have you any family, Mr. Juxon?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with a severity
+which startled the squire. Mrs. Ambrose thought that if there was a Mrs.
+Juxon, she had been unpardonably deceived. Of course Mr. Juxon should
+have said that he was married as soon as he entered the room.
+
+"I have a very large family," answered the squire, and after enjoying for
+a moment the surprise he saw in Mrs. Ambrose's face, he added with a
+laugh, "I have a library of ten thousand volumes--a very large family
+indeed. Otherwise I have no encumbrances, thank heaven."
+
+"You are a scholar?" asked Mr. Ambrose eagerly.
+
+"A book fancier, only a book fancier," returned the squire modestly. "But
+I am very fond of the fancy."
+
+"What is a book fancier, mamma?" asked little Eleanor in a whisper. But
+Mr. Juxon heard the child's question.
+
+"If your mamma will bring you up to the Hall one of these days, Miss
+Goddard, I will show you. A book fancier is a terrible fellow who has
+lots of books, and is pursued by a large evil genius telling him he must
+buy every book he sees, and that he will never by any possibility read
+half of them before he dies."
+
+Little Eleanor stared for a moment with her great violet eyes, and then
+turning again to her mother, whispered in her ear.
+
+"Mamma, he called me Miss Goddard!"
+
+"Run out and play in the garden, darling," said her mother with a smile.
+But the child would not go and sat down on a stool and stared at the
+squire, who was immensely delighted.
+
+"So you are going to bring all your library, Mr. Juxon?" asked the vicar
+returning to the charge.
+
+"Yes--and I beg you will make any use of it you please," answered the
+visitor. "I have a great fondness for books and I think I have some
+valuable volumes. But I am no great scholar, as you are, though I read a
+great deal. I have always noticed that the men who accumulate great
+libraries do not know much, and the men who know a great deal have very
+few books. Now I will wager that you have not a thousand volumes in your
+house, Mr. Ambrose."
+
+"Five hundred would be nearer the mark," said the vicar.
+
+"The fewer one has the nearer one approaches to Aquinas's _homo unius
+libri_," returned the squire. "You are nine thousand five hundred degrees
+nearer to ideal wisdom than I am."
+
+Mr. Ambrose laughed.
+
+"Nevertheless," he said, "you may be sure that if you give me leave to
+use your books, I will take advantage of the permission. It is in writing
+sermons that one feels the want of a good library."
+
+"I should think it would be an awful bore to write sermons," remarked the
+squire with such perfect innocence that both the vicar and Mrs. Goddard
+laughed loudly. But Mrs. Ambrose eyed Mr. Juxon with renewed severity.
+
+"I should fancy it would be a much greater bore, as you call it, to the
+congregation if my husband never wrote any new ones," she said stiffly.
+Whereat the squire looked rather puzzled, and coloured a little. But Mr.
+Ambrose came to the rescue.
+
+"Yes, indeed, my wife is quite right. There are no people with such
+terrible memories as churchwardens. They remember a sermon twenty years
+old. But as you say, the writing of sermons is not an easy task when a
+man has been at it for thirty years and more. A man begins by being
+enthusiastic, then his mind gets into a groove and for some time, if he
+happens to like the groove, he writes very well. But by and by he has
+written all there is to be said in the particular line he has chosen and
+he does not know how to choose another. That is the time when a man needs
+a library to help him."
+
+"I really don't think you have reached that point, Mr. Ambrose," remarked
+Mrs. Goddard. She admired the vicar and liked his sermons.
+
+"You are fortunately not in the position of my churchwardens," answered
+Mr. Ambrose. "You have not been listening to me for thirty years."
+
+"How long have you been my tenant, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire.
+
+"Nearly two years," she answered thoughtfully, and her sad eyes rested a
+moment upon Mr. Juxon's face with an expression he remembered. Indeed he
+looked at her very often and as he looked his admiration increased, so
+that when he rose to take his leave the predominant impression of the
+vicarage which remained in his mind was that of her face. Something of
+the same fascination took hold of him which had seized upon John Short
+when he caught sight of Mrs. Goddard through the open door of the study,
+something of that unexpected interest which in Mrs. Ambrose had at first
+aroused a half suspicious dislike, now long forgotten.
+
+Before the squire left he invited the whole party to come and dine with
+him at the Hall on the following Saturday. He must have some kind of a
+house warming, he said, for he was altogether too lonely up there. Mrs.
+Goddard would bring Eleanor, of course; they would dine early--it would
+not be late for the little girl. If they all liked they could call it tea
+instead of dinner. Of course everything was topsy-turvy in the Hall, but
+they would excuse that. He hoped to establish friendly relations with his
+vicar and with his tenant--his fair tenant. Might he call soon and see
+whether there was anything that could be done to improve the cottage?
+Before the day when they were all coming to dine? He would call
+to-morrow, then. Anything that needed doing should be done, Mrs. Goddard
+might be sure. When the books arrived he would let Mr. Ambrose know, of
+course, and they would have a day together.
+
+So he went away, leaving the impression that he was a very good-natured
+and agreeable man. Even Mrs. Ambrose was mollified. He had shocked her by
+his remark about sermon writing, but he had of course not meant it, and
+he appeared to mean to be very civil. It was curious to see how all
+severity vanished from Mrs. Ambrose's manner so soon as the stranger who
+aroused it was out of sight and hearing. She appeared as a formidably
+stern type of the British matron to the chance visitors who came to the
+vicarage; but they were no sooner gone than her natural temper was
+restored and she was kindness and geniality itself.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard was very thoughtful. She was not pleased at the fact of
+an addition to the Billingsfield community, and yet she liked the
+appearance of the squire. He had declared his intention of calling upon
+her on the following day, and she would be bound to receive him. She was
+young, she had been shut off from the world for two years, and the
+prospect of Mr. Juxon's acquaintance was in itself not unpleasant; but
+the idea that he was to be permanently established in the Hall frightened
+her. She had felt since she came to Billingsfield that from the very
+first she had put herself upon a footing of safety by telling her story
+to the vicar. But the vicar would, not without her permission repeat that
+story to Mr. Juxon. Was she herself called upon to do so? She was a very
+sensitive woman, and her impressionable nature had been strongly affected
+by what she had suffered. An almost morbid fear of seeming to make false
+pretences possessed her. She was more than thirty years of age, it is
+true, but she saw plainly enough in her glass that she was more than
+passably good-looking still. There were one or two grey threads in her
+brown waving hair and she took no trouble to remove them; no one ever
+noticed them. There were one or two lines, very faint lines, in her
+forehead; no one ever saw them. She could hardly see them herself.
+Supposing--why should she not suppose it?--supposing Mr. Juxon were to
+take a fancy to her, as a lone bachelor of forty and odd might easily
+take a fancy to a pretty woman who was his tenant and lived at his gate,
+what should she do? He was an honest man, and she was a conscientious
+woman; she could not deceive him, if it came to that. She would have to
+tell him the whole truth. As she thought of it, she turned pale and
+trembled. And yet she had liked his face, she had told him he might call
+at the cottage, and her woman's instinct foresaw that she was to see him
+often. It was not vanity which made her think that the squire might grow
+to like her too much. She had had experiences in her life and she knew
+that she was attractive; the very fear she had felt for the last two
+years lest she should be thrown into the society of men who might be
+attracted by her, increased her apprehension tenfold. She could not look
+forward with indifference to the expected visit, for the novelty of
+seeing any one besides the vicar and his wife was too great; she could
+not refuse to see the squire, for he would come again and again until she
+received him; and yet, she could not get rid of the idea that there was
+danger in seeing him. Call it as one may, that woman's instinct of peril
+is rarely at fault.
+
+In the late twilight of the June evening Mrs. Goddard and Eleanor waited
+home together by the broad road which led towards the park gate.
+
+"Don't you think Mr. Juxon is very kind, mamma?" asked the child.
+
+"Yes, darling, I have no doubt he is. It was very good of him to ask you
+to go to the Hall."
+
+"And he called me Miss Goddard," said Eleanor. "I wonder whether he will
+always call me Miss Goddard."
+
+"He did not know your name was Nellie," explained her mother.
+
+"Oh, I wish nobody knew, mamma. It was so nice. When shall I be grown up,
+mamma?"
+
+"Soon, my child--too soon," said Mrs. Goddard with a sigh. Nellie looked
+at her mother and was silent for a minute.
+
+"Mamma, do you like Mr. Juxon?" she asked presently.
+
+"No, dear--how can one like anybody one has only seen once?"
+
+"Oh--but I thought you might," said Nellie. "Don't you think you will,
+mamma? Say you will--do!"
+
+"Why?" asked her mother in some surprise. "I cannot say anything about
+it. I daresay he is very nice."
+
+"It will be so delightful to go to the Hall to dinner and be waited
+on by big real servants--not like Susan at the vicarage, or Martha. Won't
+you like it, mamma? Of course Mr. Juxon will have real servants, just
+like--like poor papa." Nellie finished her speech rather doubtfully as
+though not sure how her mother would take it. Mrs. Goddard sighed again,
+but said nothing. She could not stop the child's talking--why should
+Nellie not speak of her father? Nellie did not know.
+
+"I think it will be perfectly delightful," said Nellie, seeing she got no
+answer from her mother, and as though putting the final seal of
+affirmation to her remarks about the Hall. But she appeared to be
+satisfied at not having been contradicted and did not return to the
+subject that evening.
+
+Mr. Juxon lost no time in keeping his word and on the following morning
+at about eleven o'clock, when Mrs. Goddard was just hearing the last of
+Nellie's lesson in geography and little Nellie herself was beginning to
+be terribly tired of acquiring knowledge in such very warm weather, the
+squire's square figure was seen to emerge from the park gate opposite,
+clad in grey knickerbockers and dark green stockings, a rose in his
+buttonhole and a thick stick in his hand, presenting all the traditional
+appearance of a thriving country gentleman of the period. He crossed the
+road, stopped a moment and whistled his dog to heel and then opened the
+wicket gate that led to the cottage. Nellie sprang to the window in wild
+excitement.
+
+"Oh what a dog!" she cried. "Mamma, _do_ come and see! And Mr. Juxon is
+coming, too--he has green stockings!"
+
+But Mrs. Goddard, who was not prepared for so early a visit, hastily put
+away what might be described as the debris of Nellie's lessons, to wit, a
+much thumbed book of geography, a well worn spelling book, a very
+particularly inky piece of blotting paper, a pen of which most of the
+stock had been subjected to the continuous action of Nellie's teeth for
+several months, and an ancient doll, without the assistance of which, as
+a species of Stokesite _memoria teohnica_, Nellie declared that she could
+not say her lessons at all. Those things disappeared, and, with them,
+Nellie's troubles, into a large drawer set apart for the purpose. By the
+time Mr. Juxon had rung the bell and Martha's answering footstep was
+beginning to echo in the small passage, Mrs. Goddard had passed to the
+consideration of Nellie herself. Nellie's fingers were mightily inky, but
+in other respects she was presentable.
+
+"Run and wash your hands, child, and then you may come back," said her
+mother.
+
+"Oh mamma, _must_ I go? He's just coming in." She gave one despairing
+look at her little hands, and then ran away. The idea of missing one
+moment of Mr. Juxon's visit was bitter, but to be caught with inky
+fingers by a beautiful gentleman with green stockings and a rose in his
+coat would be more terribly humiliating still. There was a sound as of
+some gigantic beast plunging into the passage as the front door was
+opened, and a scream of terror from Martha followed by a good-natured
+laugh from the squire.
+
+"You'll excuse _me_, sir, but he don't bite, sir, does he? Oh my! what a
+dog he is, sir--"
+
+"Is Mrs. Goddard in?" inquired Mr. Juxon, holding the hound by the
+collar. Martha opened the door of the little sitting-room and the squire
+looked in. Martha fled down the passage.
+
+"Oh my! What a tremendious dog that is, to be sure!" she was heard to
+exclaim as she disappeared into the back of the cottage.
+
+"May I come in?" asked Mr. Juxon, rather timidly and with an expression
+of amused perplexity on his brown face. "Lie down, Stamboul!"
+
+"Oh, bring him in, too," said Mrs. Goddard coming forward and taking Mr.
+Juxon's hand. "I am so fond of dogs." Indeed she was rather embarrassed
+and was glad of the diversion.
+
+"He is really very quiet," said the squire apologetically, "only he is a
+little impetuous about getting into a house." Then, seeing that Mrs.
+Goddard looked at the enormous animal with some interest and much wonder,
+he added, "he is a Russian bloodhound--perhaps you never saw one? He was
+given to me in Constantinople, so I call him Stamboul--good name for a
+big dog is not it?"
+
+"Very," said Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. Stamboul was indeed an
+exceedingly remarkable beast. Taller than the tallest mastiff, he
+combined with his gigantic strength and size a grace and swiftness of
+motion which no mastiff can possess. His smooth clean coat, of a
+perfectly even slate colour throughout, was without folds, close as a
+greyhound's, showing every articulation and every swelling muscle of his
+body. His broad square head and monstrous jaw betrayed more of the
+quickness and sudden ferocity of the tiger than those suggested by the
+heavy, lion-like jowl of the English mastiff. His ears, too, were close
+cropped, in accordance with the Russian fashion, and somehow the
+compactness this gave to his head seemed to throw forward and bring into
+prominence his great fiery eyes, that reflected red lights as he moved,
+and did not tend to inspire confidence in the timid stranger.
+
+"Do sit down," said Mrs. Goddard, and when the squire was seated Stamboul
+sat himself down upon his haunches beside him, and looked slowly from his
+master to the lady and back again, his tongue hanging out as though
+anxious to hear what they might have to say to each other.
+
+"I thought I should be sure to find you in the morning," began Mr. Juxon,
+after a pause. "I hope I have not disturbed you?"
+
+"Oh, not at all. Nellie has just finished her lessons."
+
+"The fact is," continued the squire, "that I was going to survey the
+nakedness of the land which has fallen to my lot, and as I came out of
+the park I saw the cottage right before me and I could not resist the
+temptation of calling. I had no idea we were such near neighbours."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "it is very near."
+
+Mr. Juxon glanced round the room. He was not exactly at a loss for words,
+but Mrs. Goddard did not seem inclined to encourage the conversation. He
+saw that the room was not only exceedingly comfortable but that its
+arrangement betrayed a considerable taste for luxury. The furniture was
+of a kind not generally seen in cottages, and appeared to have formed
+part of some great establishment. The carpet itself was of a finer and
+softer kind than any at the Hall. The writing-table was a piece of richly
+inlaid work, and the implements upon it were of the solid, severe and
+valuable kind that are seen in rich men's houses. A clock which was
+undoubtedly of the Louis Quinze period stood upon the chimneypiece. On
+the walls were hung three or four pictures which, Mr. Juxon thought, must
+be both old and of great value. Upon a little table by the fireplace lay
+four or five objects of Chinese jade and Japanese ivory and a silver
+chatelaine of old workmanship. The squire saw, and wondered why such a
+very pretty woman, who possessed such very pretty things, should choose
+to come and live in his cottage in the parish of Billingsfield. And
+having seen and wondered he became interested in his charming tenant and
+endeavoured to carry on the conversation in a more confidential strain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"You have done more towards beautifying the cottage than I could have
+hoped to do," said Mr. Juxon, leaning back in his chair and resting one
+hand on Stamboul's great head.
+
+"It was very pretty of itself," answered Mrs. Goddard, "and fortunately
+it is not very big, or my things would look lost in it."
+
+"I should not say that--you have so many beautiful things. They seem to
+suit the place so well. I am sure you will never think of taking them
+away."
+
+"Not if I can help it--I am too glad to be quiet."
+
+"You have travelled a great deal, Mrs. Goddard?" asked the squire.
+
+"No--not exactly that--only a little, after all. I have not been to
+Constantinople for instance," she added looking at the hound Mr. Juxon
+had brought from the East. "You are indeed a traveller."
+
+"I have travelled all my life," said the squire, indifferently, as though
+the subject of his wanderings did not interest him. "From what little I
+have seen of Billingsfield I fancy you will find all the quiet you could
+wish, here. Really, I realise that at my own gate I must come to you for
+information. What sort of man is that excellent rector down there, whom I
+met last night?"
+
+The squire's tone became more confidential as he put the question.
+
+"Well--he is not a rector, to begin with," answered Mrs. Goddard with a
+smile, "he is the vicar, and he is a most good man, whom I have always
+found most kind."
+
+"I can readily fancy that," said Mr. Juxon. "But his wife seems to be of
+the severe type."
+
+"No--she struck me so at first, too. I think it is only with strangers.
+She is such a motherly sort of woman, you do not know! She only has that
+little manner when you first meet her."
+
+"What a strange thing that is!" remarked the squire, looking at Mrs.
+Goddard. "The natural belief of English people in each other's depravity
+until they have had time to make acquaintance! And is there no one else
+here--no doctor--no doctor's wife?"
+
+"Not a soul," answered Mrs. Goddard. "There is a doctor, but the vicarage
+suspects him of free thought. He certainly never goes to church. He has
+no wife."
+
+"This is the most Arcadian retreat I ever was in. Upon my word, I am a
+very lucky man."
+
+"I suppose that it must be a relief when one has travelled so much,"
+replied Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Or suffered very much," added the squire, half unconsciously, looking at
+her sad face.
+
+"Yes," she answered. At that moment the door opened and Nellie entered
+the room, having successfully grappled with the inkstains. She went
+straight to the squire, and held out her hand, blushing a little, but
+looking very pretty. Then she saw the huge head of Stamboul who looked up
+at her with a ferociously agreeable canine smile, and thwacked the carpet
+with his tail as he sat; Nellie started back.
+
+"Oh, what a dog!" she exclaimed. But very soon she was on excellent
+terms with him; little Nellie was not timid, and Stamboul, who liked
+people who were not afraid of him and was especially fond of children,
+did his best to be amusing.
+
+"He is a very good dog," remarked Mr. Juxon. "He once did me a very good
+service."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"I was riding in the Belgrade forest one summer. I was alone with
+Stamboul following. A couple of ruffians tried to rob me. Stamboul caught
+one of them."
+
+"Did he hurt him very much?"
+
+"I don't know--he killed him before the fellow could scream, and I shot
+the other," replied the squire calmly.
+
+"What a horrible story!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, turning pale. "Come
+here, Nellie--don't touch that dreadful dog!"
+
+"Do not be afraid--he is perfectly harmless. Come here Stamboul!" The
+huge beast obeyed, wagging his tail, and sat down at his master's feet,
+still looking rather wistfully at Nellie who had been playing with him.
+"You see," continued Mr. Juxon, "he is as quiet as a lamb--would not hurt
+a fly!"
+
+"I think it is dreadful to have such animals about," said Mrs. Goddard in
+a low voice, still looking at the dog with horror.
+
+"I am sorry I told you. It may prejudice you against him. I only meant to
+explain how faithful he is, that is all. You see a man grows fond of a
+creature that has saved his life."
+
+"I suppose so, but it is rather startling to see such an animal so near
+to one. I fear I am very nervous."
+
+"By the bye." said the squire with the bold irrelevancy of a man who
+wants to turn the subject, "are you fond of flowers?"
+
+"I?" said Mrs. Goddard in surprise. "Yes--very. Why?"
+
+"I thought you would not mind if I had the garden here improved a little.
+One might put in a couple of frames. I did not see any flowers about. I
+am so fond of them myself, you see, that I always look for them."
+
+"You are very kind," answered Mrs. Goddard. "But I would not have you
+take any trouble on my account. We are so comfortable and so fond of the
+cottage already--"
+
+"Well, I hope you will grow to like it even better," returned the squire
+with a genial smile. "Anything I can do, you know--" he rose as though to
+take his leave. "Excuse me, but may I look at that picture? Andrea del
+Sarto? Yes, I thought so--wonderful--upon my word, in a cottage in
+Billingsfield. Where did you find it?"
+
+"It was my husband's," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Ah--ah, yes," said the squire in a subdued tone. "I beg your pardon," he
+added, as people often do, unconsciously, when they fancy they have
+accidentally roused in another a painful train of thought. Then he turned
+to go. "We dine at half-past seven, you know, so as to be early for Miss
+Nellie," he said, as he went out.
+
+Mrs. Goddard was glad he was gone, though she felt that he was not
+unsympathetic. The story of the dog had frightened her, and her own
+mention of her husband had made her nervous and sad. More than ever she
+felt that fear of being in a false position, which had assailed her when
+she had first met the squire on the previous evening. He had at once
+opened relations with her in a way which showed that he intended to be
+intimate; he had offered to improve her cottage, had insisted upon making
+frames in her garden, had asked her to dinner with the Ambroses and had
+established the right to talk to her whenever he got a chance. He
+interested her, too, which was worse. His passing references to his
+travels and to his adventures, of which he spoke with the indifference
+of a man accustomed to danger, his unassuming manner, his frank
+ways--everything about him awakened her interest. She had supposed that
+in two years the very faculty of being interested by a man would be
+dulled if not destroyed; she found to her annoyance that though she had
+seen Mr. Juxon only twice she could not put him out of her thoughts. She
+was, moreover, a nervous, almost morbid, woman, and the natural result of
+trying to forget his existence was that she could think of nothing else.
+
+How much better it would be, she thought, if he knew her story from the
+first. He might then be as friendly as he pleased; there would be no
+danger in it, to him or to her. She almost determined to go at once and
+ask the vicar's advice. But by the time she had nearly made up her mind
+it was the hour for luncheon, and little Nellie's appetite was exigent.
+By the time lunch was over her determination had changed. She had
+reflected that the vicar would think her morbid, that, with his usual
+good sense, he would say there was no necessity for telling the squire
+anything; indeed, that to do so would be undignified. If the squire were
+indeed going to lead the life of a recluse as he proposed doing, he was
+not really a man to cause her any apprehension. If he had travelled about
+the world for forty years, without having his heart disturbed by any of
+the women he must have met in that time, he was certainly not the kind of
+man, when once he had determined to settle in his home, to fall in love
+with the first pretty woman he met. It was absurd; there was no
+likelihood of it; it was her own miserable vanity, she told herself,
+which made the thing seem probable, and she would not think any more
+about it. She, a woman thirty-one years of age, with a daughter who ere
+long would be growing up to womanhood! To be afraid of a mere stranger
+like Mr. Juxon--afraid lest he should fall in love with her! Could
+anything be more ridiculous? Her duty was to live quietly as she had
+lived before, to take no more notice of the squire than was necessary in
+order to be civil, and so all would be well.
+
+And so it seemed for a long time. The squire improved the garden of the
+cottage and Mrs. Goddard and Nellie, with the Ambroses, dined at the
+Hall, which at first seemed an exceedingly dreary and dismal place, but
+which, as they returned thither again and again, grew more and more
+luxurious, till the transformation was complete. Mr. Juxon brought all
+manner of things to the house; vans upon vans arrived, laden with boxes
+of books and pictures and oriental carpets and rare objects which the
+squire had collected in his many years of travel, and which he appeared
+to have stored in London until he had at last inherited the Hall. The
+longer the Ambroses and Mrs. Goddard knew him, the more singularly
+impressed they were with his reticence concerning himself. He appeared to
+have been everywhere, to have seen everything, and he had certainly
+brought back a vast collection of more or less valuable objects from his
+travels, besides the large library he had accumulated and which contained
+many rare and curious editions of ancient books. He was evidently a man
+of very good education, and a much better scholar than he was willing to
+allow. The vicar delighted in his society and when the two found
+themselves together in the great room which Mr. Juxon had lined with
+well-filled shelves, they remained for hours absorbed in literary and
+scholastic talk. But whenever the vicar approached the subject of the
+squire's past life, the latter became vague and gave ambiguous answers to
+any direct questions addressed to him. He evidently disliked talking of
+himself, though he would talk about anything else that occurred to him
+with a fluency which Mrs. Ambrose declared was the only un-English thing
+about him. The consequence was that the vicar became more and more
+interested in his new acquaintance, and though the squire was so frank
+and honest a man that it was impossible to suspect him of any doubtful
+action in the past, Mr. Ambrose suspected that he had a secret. Indeed
+after hearing the story Mrs. Goddard had confided to his ears, nothing
+would have surprised the vicar. After finding that so good, so upright
+and so honourable a woman as the fair tenant of the cottage could be put
+into such a singularly painful position as that in which she now found
+herself, it was not hard to imagine that this singular person who had
+inherited the Hall might also have some weighty reason for loving the
+solitude of Billingsfield.
+
+To chronicle the small events which occurred in that Arcadian parish,
+would be to overstep the bounds of permissible tediousness. In such
+places all events move slowly and take long to develop to their results.
+The passions which in our own quickly moving world spring up, flourish,
+wither and are cut down in a month require, when they are not stimulated
+by the fertilising heat of artificial surroundings, a longer period for
+their growth; and when that growth is attained they are likely to be
+stronger and more deeply rooted. It is not true that the study of them is
+less interesting, nor that they have less importance in themselves. The
+difficulty of narrative is greater when they are to be described, for it
+is necessary to carry the imagination in a short time over a long period,
+to show how from small incidents great results follow, and to show also
+how the very limited and trivial nature of the surroundings may cause
+important things to be overlooked. Amidst such influences acquaintance is
+soon made between the few persons so thrown together, but each is apt to
+regard such new acquaintance merely as bearing upon his or her own
+particular interests. It is surprising to see how people will live side
+by side in solitude, even in danger, in distant settlements, in the
+mining districts of the West, in up-country stations in India, on board
+ship, even, for months and years, without knowing anything of each
+other's previous history; whereas in the crowded centres of civilisation
+and society the first questions are "Where does he come from?" "What are
+his antecedents?" "What has he done in the world?" And unless a man can
+answer such inquiries to the general satisfaction he is likely to be
+heavily handicapped in the social race. But in more primitive situations
+men are ruled by more primitive feelings of mutual respect; it is
+considered that a man should not be pressed to speak of things he shows
+no desire to discuss and that, provided he does not interfere with his
+neighbour's wellbeing, his past life is nobody's business. One may feel
+curiosity concerning him, but under no circumstances is one justified in
+asking questions.
+
+For these reasons, although Mr. Juxon's arrival and instalment in the
+Hall were regarded with satisfaction by the little circle at
+Billingsfield, while he himself was at once received into intimacy and
+treated with cordial friendliness, he nevertheless represented in the
+minds of all an unsolved enigma. And to the squire the existence of one
+of the circle was at least as problematical as his own life could seem to
+any of them. The more he saw of Mrs. Goddard, the more he wondered at her
+and speculated about her and the less he dared to ask her any questions.
+But he understood from Mr. Ambrose's manner, that the vicar at least was
+in possession of her secret, and he inferred from what he was able to
+judge about the vicar's character that the latter was not a man to extend
+his friendship to any one who did not deserve it. Whatever Mrs. Goddard's
+story was, he felt sure that her troubles had not been caused by her own
+misconduct. She was in every respect what he called a good woman. Of
+course, too, she was a widow; the way in which she spoke of her husband
+implied that, on those rare occasions when she spoke of him at all.
+Charles James Juxon was a gentleman, whatever course of life he had
+followed before settling in the country, and he did not feel that he
+should be justified in asking questions about Mrs. Goddard of the vicar.
+Besides, as time went on and he found his own interest in her increasing,
+he began to nourish the hope that he might one day hear her story from
+her own lips. In his simplicity it did not strike him that he himself had
+grown to be an object of interest to her.
+
+Somehow, during the summer and autumn of that year, Mrs. Goddard
+contracted a habit of watching the park gate from the window of the
+cottage, particularly at certain hours of the day. It was only a habit,
+but it seemed to amuse her. She used to sit in the small bay window with
+her books, reading to herself or teaching Nellie, and it was quite
+natural that from time to time she should look out across the road. But
+it rarely happened, when she was installed in that particular place, that
+Mr. Juxon failed to appear at the gate, with his dog Stamboul, his green
+stockings, his stick and the inevitable rose in his coat. Moreover he
+generally crossed the road and, if he did not enter the cottage and spend
+a quarter of an hour in conversation, he at least spoke to Mrs. Goddard
+through the open window. It was remarkable, too, that as time went on
+what at first had seemed the result of chance, recurred with such
+invariable regularity as to betray the existence of a fixed rule. Nellie,
+too, who was an observant child, had ceased asking questions but watched
+her mother with her great violet eyes in a way that made Mrs. Goddard
+nervous. Nellie liked the squire very much but though she asked her
+mother very often at first whether she, too, was fond of that nice Mr.
+Juxon, the answers she received were not encouraging. How was it
+possible, Mrs. Goddard asked, to speak of liking anybody one had known so
+short a time? And as Nellie was quite unable to answer such an inquiry,
+she desisted from her questions and applied herself to the method of
+personal observation. But here, too, she was met by a hopeless
+difficulty. The squire and her mother never seemed to have any secrets,
+as Nellie would have expressed it. They met daily, and daily exchanged
+very much the same remarks concerning the weather, the garden, the
+vicar's last sermon. When they talked about anything else, they spoke of
+books, of which the squire lent Mrs. Goddard a great number. But this was
+a subject which did not interest Nellie very much; she was not by any
+means a prodigy in the way of learning, and though she was now nearly
+eleven years old was only just beginning to read the Waverley novels. On
+one occasion she remarked to her mother that she did not believe a word
+of them and did not think they were a bit like real life, but the
+momentary fit of scepticism soon passed and Nellie read on contentedly,
+not omitting however to watch her mother in order to find out, as her
+small mind expressed it, "whether mamma really liked that nice Mr.
+Juxon." Events were slowly preparing themselves which would help her to
+come to a satisfactory conclusion upon that matter.
+
+Mr. Juxon himself was in a very uncertain state of mind. After knowing
+Mrs. Goddard for six months, and having acquired the habit of seeing her
+almost every day, he found to his surprise that she formed a necessary
+part of his existence. It need not have surprised him, for in spite of
+that lady's surmise with regard to his early life, he was in reality a
+man of generous and susceptible temperament. He recognised in the
+charming tenant of the cottage many qualities which he liked, and he
+could not deny that she was exceedingly pretty. Being a strong man he was
+particularly attracted by the pathetic expression of her face, the
+perpetual sadness that was visible there when she was not momentarily
+interested or amused. Had he suspected her paleness and air of secret
+suffering to be the result of any physical infirmity, she would not have
+interested him so much. But Mrs. Goddard's lithe figure and easy grace of
+activity belied all idea of weakness. It was undoubtedly some hidden
+suffering of mind which lent that sadness to her voice and features, and
+which so deeply roused the sympathies of the squire. At the end of six
+months Mr. Juxon was very much interested in Mrs. Goddard, but despite
+all his efforts to be agreeable he seemed to have made no progress
+whatever in the direction of banishing her cares. To tell the truth, it
+did not enter his mind that he was in love with her. She was his tenant;
+she was evidently very unhappy about something; it was therefore
+undeniably his duty as a landlord and as a gentleman to make life
+easy for her.
+
+He wondered what the matter could be. At first he had been inclined to
+think that she was poor and was depressed by poverty. But though she
+lived very simply, she never seemed to be in difficulties. Five hundred
+pounds a year go a long way in the village of Billingsfield. It was
+certainly not want of money which made her unhappy. The interest of the
+sum represented by the pictures hung in her little sitting-room, not to
+mention the other objects of value she possessed, would have been alone
+sufficient to afford her a living. The squire himself would have given
+her a high price for these things, but in six months she never in the
+most distant manner suggested that she wished to part with them. The idea
+then naturally suggested itself to Mr. Juxon's mind that she was still
+mourning for her husband, and that she would probably continue to mourn
+for him until some one, himself for instance, succeeded in consoling her
+for so great a loss.
+
+The conclusion startled the squire. That was not precisely the part he
+contemplated playing, nor the species of consolation he proposed to
+offer. Mrs. Goddard was indeed a charming woman, and the squire liked
+charming women and delighted in their society. But Mr. Juxon was a
+bachelor of more than forty years standing, and he had never regarded
+marriage as a thing of itself, for himself, desirable. He immediately
+thrust the idea from his mind with a mental "_vade retro Satanas_!" and
+determined that things were very agreeable in their present state, and
+might go on for ever; that if Mrs. Goddard was unhappy that did not
+prevent her from talking very pleasantly whenever he saw her, which was
+nearly every day, and that her griefs were emphatically none of his
+business. Before very long however Mr. Juxon discovered that though it
+was a very simple thing to make such a determination it was a very
+different thing to keep it. Mrs. Goddard interested him too much. When he
+was with her he was perpetually longing to talk about herself instead of
+about the weather and the garden and the books, and once or twice he was
+very nearly betrayed into talking about himself, a circumstance so
+extraordinary that Mr. Juxon imagined he must be either ill or going mad,
+and thought seriously of sending for the doctor. He controlled the
+impulse, however, and temporarily recovered; but strange to say from that
+time forward the conversation languished when he found himself alone with
+Mrs. Goddard, and it seemed very hard to maintain their joint interest in
+the weather, the garden and the books at the proper standard of
+intensity. They had grown intimate, and familiarity had begun to breed a
+contempt of those petty subjects upon which their intimacy had been
+founded. It is not clear why this should be so, but it is true,
+nevertheless, and many a couple before Charles Juxon and Mary Goddard had
+found it out. As the interest of two people in each other increases their
+interest in things, as things, diminishes in like ratio, and they are
+very certain ultimately to reach that point described by the Frenchman's
+maxim--"a man should never talk to a woman except of herself or himself."
+
+If Mr. Juxon was not in love with Mary Goddard he was at least rapidly
+approaching a very dangerous state; for he saw her every day and could
+not let one day go by without seeing her, and moreover he grew silent in
+her company, to a degree which embarrassed her and made him feel himself
+more stupid than he had ever dreamed possible; so that he would sometimes
+stay too long, in the hope of finding something to say, and sometimes he
+would leave her abruptly and go and shut himself up with his books, and
+busy himself with his catalogues and his bindings and the arrangement of
+his rare editions. One day at last, he felt that he had behaved so very
+absurdly that he was ashamed of himself, and suddenly disappeared for
+nearly a week. When he returned he said he had been to town to attend a
+great sale of books, which was perfectly true; he did not add that the
+learned expert he employed in London could have done the business for him
+just as well. But the trip had done him no good, for he grew more silent
+than ever, and Mrs. Goddard even thought his brown face looked a shade
+paler; but that might have been the effect of the winter weather.
+Ordinary sunburn she reflected, as she looked at her own white skin in
+the mirror, will generally wear off in six months, though freckles will
+not.
+
+If Mr. Juxon was not in love, it would be very hard to say what Mary
+Goddard felt. It was not true that time was effacing the memory of the
+great sorrow she had suffered. It was there still, that memory, keen and
+sharp as ever; it would never go away again so long as she lived. But she
+had been soothed by the quiet life in Billingsfield; the evidences of the
+past had been removed far from her, she had found in the Reverend
+Augustin Ambrose one of those rare and manly natures who can keep a
+secret for ever without ever referring to its existence even with the
+person who has confided it. For a few days she had hesitated whether to
+ask the vicar's advice about Mr. Juxon or not. She had thought it her
+duty to allow Mr. Ambrose to tell the squire whatever he thought fit of
+her own story. But she had changed her mind, and the squire had remained
+in ignorance. It was best so, she thought; for now, after more than six
+months, Mr. Juxon had taken the position of a friend towards her, and, as
+she thought, showed no disposition whatever to overstep the boundaries of
+friendship. The regularity of his visits and the sameness of the
+conversation seemed of themselves a guarantee of his simple goodwill. It
+did not strike her as possible that if he were going to fall in love with
+her at all, that catastrophe should be postponed beyond six months from
+their first acquaintance. Nor did it seem extraordinary to her that she
+should actually look forward to those visits, and take pleasure in that
+monotonous intercourse. Her life was very quiet; it was natural that she
+should take whatever diversion came in her way, and should even be
+thankful for it. Mr. Juxon was an honest gentleman, a scholar and a man
+who had seen the world. If what he said was not always very original it
+was always very true, a merit not always conceded to the highest
+originality. He spoke intelligently; he told her the news; he lent her
+the newest books and reviews, and offered her his opinions upon them,
+with the regularity of a daily paper. In such a place, where
+communications with the outer world seemed as difficult as at the
+antipodes, and where the remainder of society was limited to the
+household of the vicarage, what wonder was it if she found Mr. Juxon an
+agreeable companion, and believed the companionship harmless?
+
+But far down in the involutions of her feminine consciousness there was
+present a perpetual curiosity in regard to the squire, a curiosity she
+never expected to satisfy, but was wholly unable to repress. Under the
+influence of this feeling she made remarks from time to time of an
+apparently harmless nature, but which in the squire promoted that strange
+inclination to talk about himself, which he had lately observed and which
+caused him so much alarm. He said to himself that he had nothing to be
+concealed, and that if any one had asked him direct questions concerning
+his past he would have answered them boldly enough. But he knew himself
+to be so singularly averse to dwelling on his own affairs that he
+wondered why he should now be impelled to break through so good a rule.
+Indeed he had not the insight to perceive that Mrs. Goddard lost no
+opportunity of leading him to the subject of his various adventures, and,
+if he had suspected it, he would have been very much surprised.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were far from guessing what an intimacy had sprung
+up between the two. Both the cottage and the Hall lay at a considerable
+distance from the vicarage, and though Mrs. Ambrose occasionally went to
+see Mrs. Goddard at irregular hours in the morning and afternoon, it was
+remarkable that the squire never called when she was there. Once Mrs.
+Ambrose arrived during one of his visits, but thought it natural enough
+that Mr. Juxon should drop in to see his tenant. Indeed when she called
+the two were talking about the garden--as usual.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+John Short had almost finished his hard work at college. For two years
+and a half he had laboured on acquiring for himself reputation and a
+certain amount of more solid advantage in the shape of scholarships.
+Never in that time had he left Cambridge even for a day unless compelled
+to do so by the regulations of his college. His father had found it hard
+to induce him to come up to town; and, being in somewhat easier
+circumstances since John had declared that he needed no further help to
+complete his education, he had himself gone to see his son more than
+once. But John had never been to Billingsfield and he knew nothing of the
+changes that had taken place there. At last, however, Short felt that he
+must have some rest before he went up for honours; he had grown thin and
+even pale; his head ached perpetually, and his eyes no longer seemed so
+good as they had been. He went to a doctor, and the doctor told him that
+with his admirable constitution a few days of absolute rest would do all
+that was necessary. John wrote to Mr. Ambrose to say that he would at
+last accept the invitation so often extended and would spend the week
+between Christmas and New Year's day at Billingsfield.
+
+There were great rejoicings at the vicarage. John had never been
+forgotten for a day since he had left, each successive step in his career
+had been hailed with hearty delight, and now that at last he was coming
+back to rest himself for a week before the final effort Mrs. Ambrose was
+as enthusiastic as her husband. Even Mrs. Goddard, who was not quite sure
+whether she had ever seen John or not, and the squire who had certainly
+never seen him, joined in the general excitement. Mrs. Goddard asked the
+entire party to tea at the cottage and the squire asked them to come and
+skate at the Hall and to dine afterwards; for the weather was cold and
+the vicar said John was a very good skater. Was there anything John could
+not do? There was nothing he could not do much better than anybody else,
+answered Mr. Ambrose; and the good clergyman's pride in his pupil was
+perhaps not the less because he had at first received him on charitable
+considerations, and felt that if he had risked much in being so generous
+he had also been amply rewarded by the brilliant success of his
+undertaking.
+
+When John arrived, everybody said he was "so much improved." He had got
+his growth now, being close upon one and twenty years of age; his blue
+eyes were deeper set; his downy whiskers had disappeared and a small
+moustache shaded his upper lip; he looked more intellectual but not less
+strong, though Mrs. Ambrose said he was dreadfully pale--perhaps he owed
+some of the improvement observed in his appearance to the clothes he
+wore. Poor boy, he had been but scantily supplied in the old days; he
+looked prosperous, now, by comparison.
+
+"We have had great additions to our society, since you left us," said the
+vicar. "We have got a squire at the Hall, and a lady with a little girl
+at the cottage."
+
+"Such a nice little girl," remarked Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+When John found out that the lady at the cottage was no other than the
+lady in black to whom he had lost his heart two years and a half before,
+he was considerably surprised. It would be absurd to suppose that the
+boyish fancy which had made so much romance in his life for so many
+months could outlast the excitements of the University. It would be
+absurd to dignify such a fancy by any serious name. He had grown to be a
+man since those days and he had put away childish things. He blushed to
+remember that he had spent hours in writing odes to the beautiful
+unknown, and whole nights in dreaming of her face. And yet he could
+remember that as much as a year after he had left Billingsfield he still
+thought of her as his highest ideal of woman, and still occasionally
+composed a few verses to her memory, regretting, perhaps, the cooling of
+his poetic ardour. Then he had gradually lost sight of her in the hard
+work which made up his life. Profound study had made him more prosaic and
+he believed that he had done with ideals for ever, after the manner of
+many clever young fellows who at one and twenty feel that they are
+separated from the follies of eighteen by a great and impassable gulf.
+The gulf, however, was not in John's case so wide nor so deep but what,
+at the prospect of being suddenly brought face to face, and made
+acquainted, with her who for so long had seemed the object of a romantic
+passion, he felt a strange thrill of surprise and embarrassment. Those
+meetings of later years generally bring painful disillusion. How many of
+us can remember some fair-haired little girl who in our childhood
+represented to us the very incarnation of feminine grace and beauty, for
+whom we fetched and carried, for whom we bound nosegays on the heath and
+stole apples from the orchard and climbed upon the table after desert, if
+we were left alone in the dining-room, to lay hands on some beautiful
+sweetmeat wrapped in tinsel and fringes of pink paper--have we not met
+her again in after-life, a grown woman, very, very far from our ideal of
+feminine grace and beauty? And still in spite of changes in herself and
+ourselves there has clung to her memory through all those years enough of
+romance to make our heart beat a little faster at the prospect of
+suddenly meeting her, enough to make us wonder a little regretfully if
+she was at all like the little golden-haired child we loved long ago.
+
+But with John the feeling was stronger than that. It was but two years
+and a half since he had seen Mrs. Goddard, and, not even knowing her
+name, had erected for her a pedestal in his boyish heart. There was
+moreover about her a mystery still unsolved. There was something odd and
+strange in her one visit to the vicarage, in the fact that the vicar had
+never referred to that visit and, lastly, it seemed unlike Mr. Ambrose to
+have said nothing of her settlement in Billingsfield in the course of all
+the letters he had written to John since the latter had left him. John
+dwelt upon the name--Goddard--but it held no association for him. It was
+not at all like the names he had given her in his imagination. He
+wondered what she would be like and he felt nervously anxious to meet
+her. Somehow, too, what he heard of the squire did not please him; he
+felt an immediate antagonism to Mr. Juxon, to his books, to his amateur
+scholarship, even to his appearance as described by Mrs. Ambrose, who
+said he was such a thorough Englishman and wondered how he kept his hair
+so smooth.
+
+It was not long before he had an opportunity of judging for himself of
+what Mr. Ambrose called the recent addition to Billingsfield society. On
+the very afternoon of his arrival the vicar proposed to walk up to the
+Hall and have a look at the library, and John readily assented. It was
+Christmas Eve and the weather, even in Essex, was sharp and frosty. The
+muddy road was frozen hard and the afternoon sun, slanting through the
+oak trees that bordered the road beyond the village, made no perceptible
+impression on the cold. The two men walked briskly in the direction of
+the park gate. Before they had quite reached it however, the door of the
+cottage opposite was opened, and Stamboul, the Russian bloodhound,
+bounded down the path, cleared the wicket gate in his vast stride, and
+then turning suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to wait for his
+master. But the dog instantly caught sight of the vicar, with whom he was
+on very good terms, and trotted slowly up to him, thrusting his great
+nose into his hand, and then proceeding to make acquaintance with John.
+He seemed to approve of the stranger, for he gave a short sniff of
+satisfaction and trotted back to the wicket of the cottage. At this
+moment Mrs. Goddard and Nellie came out, followed by the squire arrayed
+in his inevitable green stockings. There was however no rose in his coat.
+Whether the greenhouses at the Hall had failed to produce any in the
+bitter weather, or whether Mr. Juxon had transferred the rose from his
+coat to the possession of Mrs. Goddard, is uncertain. The three came out
+into the road where the vicar and John stood still to meet them.
+
+"Mrs. Goddard," said the clergyman, "this is Mr. Short, of whom you have
+heard--John, let me introduce you to Mr. Juxon."
+
+John felt that he blushed violently as he took Mrs. Goddard's hand. He
+would not have believed that he could feel so much embarrassed, and he
+hated himself for betraying it. But nobody noticed his colour. The
+weather was bright and cold, and even Mrs. Goddard's pale and delicate
+skin had a rosy tinge.
+
+"We were just going for a walk," she explained.
+
+"And we were going to see you at the Hall," said the vicar to Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Let us do both," said the latter. "Let us walk to the Hall and have
+a cup of tea. We can look at the ice and see whether it will bear
+to-morrow."
+
+Everybody agreed to the proposal, and it so fell out that the squire and
+the vicar went before while John and Mrs. Goddard followed and Nellie
+walked between them, holding Stamboul by the collar, and talking to him
+as she went. John looked at his companion, and saw with a strange
+satisfaction that his first impression, the impression he had cherished
+so long, had not been a mistaken one. Her deep violet eyes were still
+sad, beautiful and dreamy. Her small nose was full of expression, and was
+not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be. Her rich brown hair
+waved across her forehead as it did on that day when John first saw her;
+and now as he spoke with her, her mouth smiled, as he had been sure it
+would. John felt a curious sense of pride in her, in finding that he had
+not been deceived, that this ideal of whom he had dreamed was really and
+truly very good to look at. He knew little of the artist's rules of
+beauty; he had often looked with wonder at the faces in the illustrations
+to Dr. Smith's classical dictionary, and had tried to understand where
+the beauty of them lay, and at Cambridge he had seen and studied with
+interest many photographs and casts from the antiques. But to his mind
+the antique would not bear comparison for a moment with Mrs. Goddard, who
+resembled no engraving nor photograph nor cast he had ever seen.
+
+And she, too, looked at him, and said to herself that he did not look
+like what she had expected. He looked like a lean, fresh young Englishman
+of moderate intelligence and in moderate circumstances. And yet she knew
+that he was no ordinary young fellow, that he was wonderfully gifted, in
+fact, and likely to make a mark in the world. She resolved to take a
+proper interest in him.
+
+"Do you know," she said, "I have heard so much about you, that I feel as
+though I had met you before, Mr. Short."
+
+"We really have met," said John. "Do you remember that hot day when you
+came to the vicarage and I waked up Muggins for you?"
+
+"Yes--was that you? You have changed. That is, I suppose I did not see
+you very well in the hurry."
+
+"I suppose I have changed in two years and a half. I was only a boy then,
+you know. But how have you heard so much about me?"
+
+"Billingsfield," said Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile, "is not a large
+place. The Ambroses are very fond of you and always talk of what you are
+doing."
+
+"And so you really live here, Mrs. Goddard? How long is it since you
+came? Mr. Ambrose never told me--"
+
+"I have been here more than two years--two years last October," she
+answered quietly.
+
+"The very year I left--only a month after I was gone. How strange!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked up nervously. She was frightened lest John should
+have made any deductions from the date of her arrival. But John was
+thinking in a very different train of thought.
+
+"Why is it strange?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, I hardly know," said John in considerable embarrassment. "I was only
+thinking--about you--that is, about it all."
+
+The answer did not tend to quiet Mrs. Goddard's apprehensions.
+
+"About me?" she exclaimed. "Why should you think about me?"
+
+"It was very foolish, of course," said John. "Only, when I caught sight
+of you that day I was very much struck. You know, I was only a boy, then.
+I hoped you would come back--but you did not." He blushed violently, and
+then glanced at his companion to see whether she had noticed it.
+
+"No," she said, "I did not come back for some time."
+
+"And then I was gone. Mr. Ambrose never told me you had come."
+
+"Why should he?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. I think he might. You see Billingsfield has been a
+sort of home to me, and it is a small place; so I thought he might have
+told me the news."
+
+"I suppose he thought it would not interest you," said Mrs. Goddard. "I
+am sure I do not know why it should. But you must be very fond of the
+place, are you not?"
+
+"Very. As I was saying, it is very like home to me. My father lives in
+town you know--that is not at all like home. One always associates the
+idea of home with the country, and a vicarage and a Hall, and all that."
+
+"Does one?" said Mrs. Goddard, picking her way over the frozen mud of the
+road. "Take care, Nellie, it is dreadfully slippery!"
+
+"How much she has grown," remarked John, looking at the girl's active
+figure as she walked before them. "She was quite a little girl when I saw
+her first."
+
+"Yes, she grows very fast," answered Mrs. Goddard rather regretfully.
+
+"You say that as though you were sorry."
+
+"I? No. I am glad to see her grow. What a funny remark."
+
+"I thought you spoke sadly," explained John.
+
+"Oh, dear no. Only she is coming to the awkward age."
+
+"She is coming to it very gracefully," said John, who wanted to say
+something pleasant.
+
+"That is the most any of us can hope to do," answered Mrs. Goddard with a
+little smile. "We all have our awkward age, I suppose."
+
+"I should not think you could remember yours."
+
+"Why? Do you think it was so very long ago?" Mrs. Goddard laughed.
+
+"No--I cannot believe you ever had any," said John.
+
+The boyish compliment pleased Mrs. Goddard. It was long since any one had
+flattered her, for flattery did not enter into the squire's system for
+making himself agreeable.
+
+"Do they teach that sort of thing at Cambridge?" she asked demurely.
+
+"What sort of thing?"
+
+"Making little speeches to ladies," said she.
+
+"No--I wish they did," said John, laughing. "I should know much better
+how to make them. We learn how to write Greek odes to moral
+abstractions."
+
+"What a dreadful thing to do!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Do you think so? I do not know. Now, for instance, I have written a
+great many Greek odes to you--"
+
+"To me?" interrupted his companion in surprise.
+
+"Do you think it is so very extraordinary?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"Well--you see--I only saw you once--you won't laugh?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Goddard, who was very much amused, and was beginning to
+think that John Short was the most original young man she had ever met.
+
+"I only saw you once, when you came to the vicarage, and I had not the
+least idea what your name was. But I--I hoped you would come back; and so
+I used to write poems to you. They were very good, too," added John in a
+meditative tone, "I have never written any nearly so good as they were."
+
+"Really?" Mrs. Goddard looked at him rather incredulously and then
+laughed.
+
+"You said you would not laugh," objected John.
+
+"I cannot help it in the least," said she. "It seems so funny."
+
+"It did not seem funny to me, I can assure you," replied John rather
+warmly. "I thought it very serious."
+
+"You don't do it now, do you?" asked Mrs. Goddard, looking up at him
+quietly.
+
+"Oh no--a man's ideals change so much, you know," answered John, who felt
+he had been foolishly betrayed into telling his story, and hated to be
+laughed at.
+
+"I am very glad of that. How long are you going to stay here, Mr. Short?"
+
+"Until New Year's Day, I think," he answered. "Perhaps you will have time
+to forget about the poetry before I go."
+
+"I don't know why," said Mrs. Goddard, noticing his hurt tone. "I
+think it was very pretty--I mean the way you did it. You must be a born
+poet--to write verses to a person you did not know and had only seen
+once!"
+
+"It is much easier than writing verses to moral abstractions one has
+never seen at all," explained John, who was easily pacified. "When a man
+writes a great deal he feels the necessity of attaching all those
+beautiful moral qualities to some real, living person whom he can see--"
+
+"Even if he only sees her once," remarked Mrs. Goddard demurely.
+
+"Yes, even if he only sees her once. You have no idea how hard it is to
+concentrate one's faculties upon a mere idea; but the moment a man sees a
+woman whom he can endow with all sorts of beautiful qualities--why it's
+just as easy as hunting."
+
+"I am glad to have been of so much service to you, even
+unconsciously--but, don't you think perhaps Mrs. Ambrose would have done
+as well?"
+
+"Mrs. Ambrose?" repeated John. Then he broke into a hearty laugh. "No--I
+have no hesitation in saying that she would not have done as well. I am
+deeply indebted to Mrs. Ambrose for a thousand kindnesses, for a great
+deal more than I can tell--but, on the whole, I say, no; I could not have
+written odes to Mrs. Ambrose."
+
+"No, I suppose not. Besides, fancy the vicar's state of mind! She would
+have had to call him in to translate your poetry."
+
+"It is very singular," said John in a tone of reflection. "But, if I had
+not done all that, we should not be talking as we are now, after ten
+minutes acquaintance."
+
+"Probably not," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"No--certainly not. By the bye, there is the Hall. I suppose you have
+often been there since Mr. Juxon came--what kind of man is he?"
+
+"He has been a great traveller," answered his companion. "And then--well,
+he is a scholar and has an immense library--"
+
+"And an immense dog--yes, but I mean, what kind of man is he himself?"
+
+"He is very agreeable," said Mrs. Goddard quietly. "Very well bred, very
+well educated. We find him a great addition in Billingsfield."
+
+"I should think so, if he is all you say," said John discontentedly. His
+antagonism against Mr. Juxon was rapidly increasing. Mrs. Goddard looked
+at him in some surprise, being very far from understanding his tone.
+
+"I think you will like him," she said. "He knows all about you from the
+Ambroses, and he always speaks of you with the greatest admiration."
+
+"Really? It is awfully kind of him, I am sure. I am very much obliged,"
+said John rather contemptuously.
+
+"Why do you speak like that?" asked Mrs. Goddard gravely. "You cannot
+possibly have any cause for disliking him. Besides, he is a friend of
+ours--"
+
+"Oh, of course, then it is different," said John. "If he is a friend of
+yours--"
+
+"Do you generally take violent dislikes to people at first sight, Mr.
+Short?"
+
+"Oh, dear no. Not at all--at least, not dislikes. I suppose Mr. Juxon's
+face reminds me of somebody I do not like. I will behave like an angel.
+Here we are."
+
+The effect of this conversation upon the two persons between whom it took
+place was exceedingly different. Mrs. Goddard was amused, without being
+altogether pleased. She had made the acquaintance of a refreshingly young
+scholar whom she understood to be full of genius. He was enthusiastic,
+simple, seemingly incapable of concealing anything that passed through
+his mind, unreasonable and evidently very susceptible. On the whole, she
+thought she should like him, though his scornful manner in speaking of
+the squire had annoyed her. The interest she could feel in him, if she
+felt any at all, would be akin to that of the vicar in the boy. He was
+only a boy; brilliantly talented, they said, but still a mere boy. She
+was fully ten years older than he--she might almost be his mother--well,
+not quite that, but very nearly. It was amusing to think of his writing
+odes to her. She wished she could see translations of them, and she
+almost made up her mind to ask him to show them to her.
+
+John on the other hand experienced a curious sensation. He had never
+before been in the society of so charming a woman. He looked at her and
+looked again, and came to the conclusion that she was not only charming
+but beautiful. He had not the least idea of her age; it is not the manner
+of his kind to think much about the age of a woman, provided she is not
+too young. The girl might be ten. Mrs. Goddard might have married at
+sixteen--twenty-six, twenty-seven--what was that? John called himself
+twenty-two. Five years was simply no difference at all! Besides, who
+cared for age?
+
+He had suddenly found himself almost on a footing of intimacy with this
+lovely creature. His odes had served him well; it had pleased her to hear
+the story. She had laughed a little, of course; but women, as John knew,
+always laugh when they are pleased. He would like to show her his odes.
+As he walked through the park by her side he felt a curious sense of
+possession in her which gave him a thrill of exquisite delight; and when
+they entered the Hall he felt as though he were resigning her to the
+squire, which gave him a corresponding sense of annoyance. When an
+Englishman experiences these sensations, he is in love. John resolved
+that whatever happened he would walk back with Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Come in," said the squire cheerily. "We are not so cold as we used to be
+up here."
+
+A great fire of logs was burning upon the hearth in the Hall. Stamboul
+stalked up to the open chimney, scratched the tiger's skin which served
+for a rug, and threw himself down as though his day's work were done.
+Mr. Juxon went up to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"I think you had better take off your coat," he said. "The house is very
+warm."
+
+Mrs. Goddard allowed the squire to help her in removing the heavy black
+jacket lined and trimmed with fur, which she wore. John eyed the
+proceeding uneasily and kept on his greatcoat.
+
+"Thank you--I don't mind the heat," he said shortly when the squire
+suggested to him that he might be too warm. John was in a fit of
+contrariety. Mrs. Goddard glanced at him, as he spoke, and he thought he
+detected a twinkle of amusement in her eyes, which did not tend to smooth
+his temper.
+
+"You will have some tea, Mrs. Goddard?" said Mr. Juxon, leading the way
+into the library, which he regarded as the most habitable room in the
+house. Mrs. Goddard walked by his side and the vicar followed, while John
+and Nellie brought up the rear.
+
+"Is not it a beautiful place?" said Nellie, who was anxious that the
+new-comer should appreciate the magnificence of the Hall.
+
+"Can't see very well," said John, "it is so dark."
+
+"Oh, but it is beautiful," insisted Miss Nellie. "And they have lots of
+lamps here in the evening. Perhaps Mr. Juxon will have them lighted
+before we go. He is always so kind."
+
+"Is he?" asked John with a show of interest.
+
+"Yes--he brings mamma a rose every day," said Nellie.
+
+"Not really?" said John, beginning to feel that he was justified in
+hating the squire with all his might.
+
+"Yes--and books, too. Lots of them--but then, he has so many. See, this
+is the library. Is not it splendid!"
+
+John looked about him and was surprised. The last rays of the setting sun
+fell across the open lawn and through the deep windows of the great room,
+illuminating the tall carved bookcases, the heavily gilt bindings, the
+rich, dark Russia leather and morocco of the folios. The footsteps of the
+party fell noiselessly upon the thick carpet and almost insensibly the
+voices of the visitors dropped to a lower key. A fine large wood fire was
+burning on the hearth, carefully covered with a metal netting lest any
+spark should fly out and cause damage to the treasures accumulated in the
+neighbouring shelves.
+
+"Pray make yourself at home, Mr. Short," said the squire, coming up to
+John. "You may find something of interest here. There are some old
+editions of the classics that are thought rare--some specimens of
+Venetian printing, too, that you may like to look at. Mr. Ambrose can
+tell you more about them than I."
+
+John's feeling of antagonism, and even his resentment against Mr. Juxon,
+roused by Nellie's innocent remark about the roses, were not proof
+against the real scholastic passion aroused by the sight of rare and
+valuable books. In a few minutes he had divested himself of his greatcoat
+and was examining the books with an expression of delight upon his face
+which was pleasant to see. He glanced from time to time at the other
+persons in the room and looked very often at Mrs. Goddard, but on the
+whole he was profoundly interested in the contents of the library. Mrs.
+Goddard was installed in a huge leathern easy-chair by the fire, and the
+squire was handing her one after another a number of new volumes which
+lay upon a small table, and which she appeared to examine with interest.
+Nellie knew where to look for her favourite books of engravings and had
+curled herself up in a corner absorbed in "Hyde's Royal Residences." The
+vicar went to look for something he wanted to consult.
+
+"What do you think of our new friend?" asked Mrs. Goddard of the squire.
+She spoke in a low tone and did not look up from the new book he had just
+handed her.
+
+"He appears to have a very peculiar temper," said Mr. Juxon. "But he
+looks clever."
+
+"What do you think he was talking about as we came through the park?"
+asked Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"What?"
+
+"He was saying that he saw me once before he went to college, and--fancy
+how deliciously boyish! he said he had written ever so many Greek odes to
+my memory since!" Mrs. Goddard laughed a little and blushed faintly.
+
+"Let us hope, for the sake of his success, that you may continue to
+inspire him," said the squire gravely. "I have no doubt the odes were
+very good."
+
+"So he said. Fancy!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard did not mean to walk home with John; but on the other hand
+she did not mean to walk with the squire. She revolved the matter in her
+mind as she sat in the library talking in an undertone with Mr. Juxon.
+She liked the great room, the air of luxury, the squire's tea and the
+squire's conversation. It is worth noticing that his flow of talk was
+more abundant to-day than it had been for some time; whether it was
+John's presence which stimulated Mr. Juxon's imagination, or whether
+Mrs. Goddard had suddenly grown more interesting since John Short's
+appearance it is hard to say; it is certain that Mr. Juxon talked better
+than usual.
+
+The afternoon, however, was far spent and the party had only come to make
+a short visit. Mrs. Goddard rose from her seat.
+
+"Nellie, child, we must be going home," she said, calling to the little
+girl who was still absorbed in the book of engravings which she had taken
+to the window to catch the last of the waning light.
+
+John started and came forward with alacrity. The vicar looked up; Nellie
+reluctantly brought her book back.
+
+"It is very early," objected the squire. "Really, the days have no
+business to be so short."
+
+"It would not seem like Christmas if they were long," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"It does not seem like Christmas anyhow," remarked John, enigmatically.
+No one understood his observation and no one paid any attention to it.
+Whereupon John's previous feeling of annoyance returned and he went to
+look for his greatcoat in the dark corner where he had laid it.
+
+"You must not come all the way back with us," said Mrs. Goddard as they
+all went out into the hall and began to put on their warm things before
+the fire. "Really--it is late. Mr. Ambrose will give me his arm."
+
+The squire insisted however, and Stamboul, who had had a comfortable nap
+by the fire, was of the same opinion as his master and plunged wildly at
+the door.
+
+"Will you give me your arm, Mr. Ambrose?" said Mrs. Goddard, looking
+rather timidly at the vicar as they stood upon the broad steps in the
+sparkling evening air. She felt that she was disappointing both the
+squire and John, but she had quite made up her mind. She had her own
+reasons. The vicar, good man, was unconsciously a little flattered by her
+choice, as with her hand resting on the sleeve of his greatcoat he led
+the way down the park. The squire and John were fain to follow together,
+but Nellie took her mother's hand, and Stamboul walked behind affecting
+an unusual gravity.
+
+"You must come again when there is more daylight," said Mr. Juxon to his
+companion.
+
+"Thank you," said John. "You are very good." He intended to relapse into
+silence, but his instinct made him ashamed of seeming rude. "You have a
+magnificent library," he added presently in a rather cold tone.
+
+"You have been used to much better ones in Cambridge," said the squire,
+modestly.
+
+"Do you know Cambridge well, Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Very well. I am a Cambridge man, myself."
+
+"Indeed?" exclaimed John, immediately discovering that the squire was not
+so bad as he had thought. "Indeed! I had no idea. Mr. Ambrose never told
+me that."
+
+"I am not sure that he is aware of it," said Mr. Juxon quietly. "The
+subject never happened to come up."
+
+"How odd!" remarked John, who could not conceive of associating with a
+man for any length of time without asking at what University he had
+been.
+
+"I don't know," answered Mr. Juxon. "There are lots of other things to
+talk about."
+
+"Oh--of course," said John, in a tone which did not express conviction.
+
+Meanwhile Mr. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard walked briskly in front; so
+briskly in fact that Nellie occasionally jumped a step, as children say,
+in order to keep up with them.
+
+"What a glorious Christmas eve!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, as they turned a
+bend in the drive and caught sight of the western sky still clear and
+red. "And there is the new moon!" The slender crescent was hanging just
+above the fading glow.
+
+"Oh mamma, have you wished?" cried Nellie. "You must, you know, when you
+see the new moon!"
+
+Mrs. Goddard did not answer, but she sighed faintly and drew a little
+closer to the worthy vicar as she walked. She always wished, whether
+there was a new moon or not, and she always wished the same wish. Perhaps
+Mr. Ambrose understood, for he was not without tact. He changed the
+subject.
+
+"How do you like our John Short?" he asked.
+
+"Very much, I think," answered Mrs. Goddard. "He is so fresh and young."
+
+"He is a fine fellow. I was sure you would like him. Is he at all like
+what you fancied he would be?"
+
+"Well no--not exactly. I know you told me how he looked, but I always
+thought he would be rather Byronic--the poetical type, if you know what
+I mean."
+
+"He has a great deal of poetry in him," said Mr. Ambrose in a tone of
+profound admiration. "He writes the best Greek verse I ever saw."
+
+"Oh yes--I daresay," replied Mrs. Goddard smiling in the dusk. "I am sure
+he must be very clever."
+
+So they chatted quietly as they walked down the park. But the squire and
+John did not make progress in their conversation, and by the time they
+reached the gate they had yielded to an awkward silence. They had both
+been annoyed because Mrs. Goddard had taken the vicar's arm instead of
+choosing one of themselves, but the joint sense of disappointment did not
+constitute a common bond of interest. Either one would have suffered
+anything rather than mention Mrs. Goddard to the other in the course of
+the walk. And yet Mr. Juxon might have been John's father. At the gate of
+the cottage they separated. The squire said he would turn back. Mrs.
+Goddard had reached her destination. John and the vicar would return to
+the vicarage. John tried to linger a moment, to get a word with Mrs.
+Goddard. He was so persistent that she let him follow her through the
+wicket gate and then turned quickly.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, rather suddenly, holding out her hand to say
+good-bye.
+
+"Oh, nothing," answered John. "That is--would you like to see one of
+those--those little odes of mine?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, if you like," she answered frankly, and then laughed.
+"Of course I would. Good-night."
+
+He turned and fled. The vicar was waiting for him, and eyed him rather
+curiously as he came back. Mr. Juxon was standing in the middle of the
+road, making Stamboul jump over his stick, backwards and forwards.
+
+"Good-night," he said, pausing in his occupation. The vicar and John
+turned away and walked homewards. Before they turned the corner towards
+the village John instinctively looked back. Mr. Juxon was still making
+Stamboul jump the stick before the cottage, but as far as he could see in
+the dusk, Mrs. Goddard and Nellie had disappeared within. John felt that
+he was very unhappy.
+
+"Mr. Ambrose," he began. Then he stopped and hesitated. "Mr. Ambrose," he
+continued at last, "you never told me half the news of Billingsfield in
+your letters."
+
+"You mean about Mrs. Goddard? Well--no--I did not think it would interest
+you very much."
+
+"She is a very interesting person," said John. He could have added that
+if he had known she was in Billingsfield he would have made a great
+sacrifice in order to come down for a day to make her acquaintance. But
+he did not say it.
+
+"She is a great addition," said the vicar.
+
+"Oh--very great, I should think."
+
+Christmas eve was passed at the vicarage in preparation for the morrow.
+Mrs. Ambrose was very active in binding holly wherever it was possible to
+put it. The mince-pies were tasted and pronounced a success, and old
+Reynolds was despatched to the cottage with a small basket containing a
+certain number of them as a present to Mrs. Goddard. An emissary appeared
+from the Hall with a variety of articles which the squire begged to
+contribute towards the vicar's Christmas dinner; among others a haunch of
+venison which Mrs. Ambrose pronounced to be in the best condition. The
+vicar retorted by sending to the Hall a magnificent Cottenham cheese
+which, as a former Fellow of Trinity, he had succeeded in obtaining.
+Moreover Mr. Ambrose himself descended to the cellar and brought up
+several bottles of Audit ale which he declared must be allowed to stand
+some time in the pantry in order to bring out the flavour and to be
+thoroughly settled. John gave his assistance wherever it was needed and
+enjoyed vastly the old-fashioned preparations for Christmas day. It was
+long since the season had brought him such rejoicing and he intended to
+rejoice with a good will towards men and especially towards the Ambroses.
+After dinner the whole party, consisting of three highly efficient
+persons and old Reynolds, adjourned to the church to complete the
+decorations for the morrow.
+
+The church of Billingsfield, known as St. Mary's, was quite large enough
+to contain twice the entire population of the parish. It was built upon a
+part of the foundations of an ancient abbey, and the vicar was very proud
+of the monument of a crusading Earl of Oxford which he had caused to be
+placed in the chancel, it having been discovered in the old chancel of
+the abbey in the park, far beyond the present limits of the church. The
+tower was the highest in the neighbourhood. The whole building was of
+gray rubble, irregular stones set together with a crumbling cement, and
+presented an appearance which, if not architecturally imposing, was at
+least sufficiently venerable. At the present time the aisles were full of
+heaped-up holly and wreaths; a few lamps and a considerable number of
+tallow candles shed a rather feeble light amongst the pillars; a crowd of
+school children, not yet washed for the morrow, were busy under the
+directions of the schoolmistress in decorating the chancel; Mr. Thomas
+Reid the conservative sexton was at the top of a tall ladder, presumably
+using doubtful language to himself as every third nail he tried to drive
+into the crevices of the stone "crooked hisself and larfed at him," as he
+expressed it; the organ was playing and a dozen small boys with three or
+four men were industriously practising the anthem "Arise, Shine,"
+producing strains which if not calculated altogether to elevate the heart
+by their harmony, would certainly have caused the hair of a sensitive
+musician to rise on end; three or four of the oldest inhabitants were
+leaning on their sticks in the neighbourhood of the great stove in the
+middle aisle, warming themselves and grumbling that "times warn't as they
+used to be;" Mr. Abraham Boosey was noisily declaring that he had
+"cartlods more o' thim greens" to come, and Muggins, who had had some
+beer, was stumbling cheerfully against the pews in his efforts to bring a
+huge load of fir branches to the foot of Mr. Thomas Reid's long ladder.
+It was a thorough Christmas scene and John Short's heart warmed as he
+came back suddenly to the things which for three years had been so
+familiar to him and which he had so much missed in his solitude at
+Cambridge. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose set to work and John followed their
+example. Even the prickly holly leaves were pleasant to touch and there
+was a homely joy in the fir branches dripping with half melted snow.
+
+Before they had been at work very long, John was aware of a little
+figure, muffled in furs and standing beside him. He looked up and saw
+little Nellie's lovely face and long brown curls.
+
+"Can't I help you, Mr. Short?" she asked timidly. "I like to help, and
+they won't let me."
+
+"Who are 'they'?" asked John kindly, but looking about for the figure of
+Nellie's mother.
+
+"The schoolmistress and Mrs. Ambrose. They said I should dirty my frock."
+
+"Well," said John, doubtfully, "I don't know. Perhaps you would. But you
+might hold the string for me--that won't hurt your clothes, you know."
+
+"There are more greens this year," remarked Nellie, sitting down upon the
+end of the choir bench where John was at work and taking the ball of
+string in her hand. "Mr. Juxon has sent a lot from the park."
+
+"He seems to be always sending things," said John, who had no reason
+whatever for saying so, except that the squire had sent a hamper to the
+vicarage. "Did he stay long before dinner?" he added, in the tone people
+adopt when they hope to make children talk.
+
+"Stay long where?" asked Nellie innocently.
+
+"Oh, I thought he went into your house after we left you," answered John.
+
+"Oh no--he did not come in," said Nellie. John continued to work in
+silence. At some distance from where he was, Mrs. Goddard was talking to
+Mrs. Ambrose. He could see her graceful figure, but he could hardly
+distinguish her features in the gloom of the dimly-lighted church. He
+longed to leave Nellie and to go and speak to her, but an undefined
+feeling of hurt pride prevented him. He would not forgive her for having
+taken the vicar's arm in coming home through the park; so he stayed where
+he was, pricking his fingers with the holly and rather impatiently
+pulling the string off the ball which Nellie held. If Mrs. Goddard wanted
+to speak to him, she might come of her own accord, he thought, for he
+felt that he had behaved foolishly in asking if she wished to see his
+odes. Somehow, when he thought about it, the odes did not seem so good
+now as they had seemed that afternoon.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had not seen him at first, and for some time she remained in
+consultation with Mrs. Ambrose. At last she turned and looking for Nellie
+saw that she was seated beside John; to his great delight she came
+towards him. She looked more lovely than ever, he thought; the dark fur
+about her throat set off her delicate, sad face like a frame.
+
+"Oh--are you here, too, Mr. Short?" she said.
+
+"Hard at work, as you see," answered John. "Are you going to help, Mrs.
+Goddard? Won't you help me?"
+
+"I wanted to," said Nellie, appealing to her mother, "but they would not
+let me, so I can only hold the string."
+
+"Well, dear--we will see if we can help Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard
+good-naturedly, and she sat down upon the choir bench.
+
+John never forgot that delightful Christmas Eve. For nearly two hours he
+never left Mrs. Goddard's side, asking her advice about every branch and
+bit of holly and following out to the letter her most minute suggestions.
+He forgot all about the squire and about the walk back from the park, in
+the delight of having Mrs. Goddard to himself. He pushed the school
+children about and spoke roughly to old Reynolds if her commands were not
+instantly executed; he felt in the little crowd of village people that he
+was her natural protector, and he wished he might never have anything in
+the world to do save to decorate a church in her company. He grew more
+and more confidential and when the work was all done he felt that he had
+thoroughly established himself in her good graces and went home to dream
+of the happiest day he had ever spent. The organ ceased playing, the
+little choir dispersed, the school children were sent home, Mr. Abraham
+Boosey retired to the bar of the Duke's Head, Muggins tenderly embraced
+every tombstone he met on his way through the churchyard, the
+"gentlefolk" followed Reynolds' lantern towards the vicarage, and Mr.
+Thomas Reid, the conservative and melancholic sexton, put out the lights
+and locked the church doors, muttering a sour laudation of more primitive
+times, when "the gentlefolk minded their business."
+
+For the second time that day, John and Mr. Ambrose walked as far as the
+cottage, to see Mrs. Goddard to her home. When they parted from her and
+Nellie, John was careful not to say anything more about the odes, a
+subject to which Mrs. Goddard had not referred in the course of the
+evening. John thanked her rather effusively for her help--he could never
+have got through those choir benches without her, he said; and the vicar
+added that he was very much obliged, too, and surreptitiously conveyed
+to Mrs. Goddard's hand a small package intended for Miss Nellie's
+Christmas stocking, from him and his wife, and which he had forgotten to
+give earlier. Nellie was destined to have a fuller stocking than usual
+this year, for the squire had remembered her as well as Mr. Ambrose.
+
+John went to bed in his old room at the vicarage protesting that he had
+enjoyed the first day of his holiday immensely. As he blew out the light,
+he thought suddenly how often in that very room he had gone to bed
+dreaming about the lady in black and composing verses to her, till
+somehow the Greek terminations would get mixed up with the Latin roots,
+the quantities all seemed to change places, and he used to fall asleep
+with a delicious half romantic sense of happiness always unfulfilled yet
+always present. And now at last it began to be fulfilled in earnest; he
+had met the lady in black at last, had spent nearly half a day in her
+company and was more persuaded than ever that she was really and truly
+his ideal. He did not go to sleep so soon as in the old days, and he was
+sorry to go to sleep at all; he wanted to enjoy all his delicious
+recollections of that afternoon before he slept and, as he recapitulated
+the events which had befallen him and recalled each expression of the
+face that had charmed him and every intonation of the charmer's voice, he
+felt that he had never been really happy before, that no amount of
+success at Cambridge could give him half the delight he had
+experienced during one hour in the old Billingsfield church, and that
+altogether life anywhere else was not worth living. To-morrow he would
+see Mrs. Goddard again, and the next day and the day after that and
+then--"bother the future!" ejaculated John, and went to sleep.
+
+He awoke early, roused by the loud clanging of the Christmas bells, and
+looking out he saw that the day was fine and cold and bright as Christmas
+day should be, and generally is. The hoar frost was frozen into fantastic
+shapes upon his little window, the snow was clinging to the yew branches
+outside and the robins were hopping and chirping over the thin crust of
+frozen snow that just covered the ground. The road was hard and brown as
+on the previous day, and the ice in the park would probably bear. Perhaps
+Mrs. Goddard would skate in the afternoon between the services, but
+then--Juxon would be there. "Never mind Juxon," quoth John to himself,
+"it is Christmas day!"
+
+At the vicarage and elsewhere, all over the land, those things were done
+which delight the heart of Englishmen at the merry season. Everybody
+shook hands with everybody else, everybody cried "Merry Christmas!" to
+his neighbour in the street, with an intonation as though he were saying
+something startlingly new and brilliant which had never been said before.
+Every labourer who had a new smock-frock put it on, and those who had
+none had at least a bit of new red worsted comforter about their throats
+and began the day by standing at their doors in the cold morning, smoking
+a "ha'p'orth o' shag" in a new clay pipe, greeting each other across the
+village street. Muggins, who had spent a portion of the night in
+exchanging affectionate Christmas wishes with the tombstones in the
+churchyard, appeared fresh and ruddy at an early hour, clad in the long
+black coat and tall hat which he was accustomed to wear when he drove Mr.
+Boosey's fly on great festivals. Most of the cottages in the single
+street sported a bit of holly in their windows, and altogether the
+appearance of Billingsfield was singularly festive and mirthful. At
+precisely ten minutes to eleven the vicar and Mrs. Ambrose, accompanied
+by John, issued from the vicarage and went across the road by the private
+path to the church. As they entered the porch Mr. Reid, who stood
+solemnly tolling the small bell, popularly nicknamed the "Ting-tang,"
+and of which the single rope passed down close to the south door,
+vouchsafed John a sour smile of recognition. John felt as though he had
+come home. Mrs. Goddard and Nellie appeared a moment afterwards and took
+their seats in the pew traditionally belonging to the cottage, behind
+that of the squire who was always early, and the sight of whose smoothly
+brushed hair and brown beard was a constant source of satisfaction to
+Mrs. Ambrose. John and Mrs. Ambrose sat on the opposite side of the
+aisle, but John's eyes strayed very frequently towards Mrs. Goddard; so
+frequently indeed that she noticed it and leaned far back in her seat to
+avoid his glance. Whereupon John blushed and felt that the vicar, who was
+reading the Second Lesson, had probably noticed his distraction. It was
+hard to realise that two years and a half had passed since he had sat in
+that same pew; perhaps, however, the presence of Mrs. Goddard helped him
+to understand the lapse of time. But for her it would have been very
+hard; for the vicar's voice sounded precisely as it used to sound; Mrs.
+Ambrose had not lost her habit of removing one glove and putting it into
+her prayer book as a mark while she found the hymn in the accompanying
+volume; the bright decorations looked as they looked years ago above the
+organ and round the chancel; from far down the church, just before the
+sermon, came the old accustomed sound of small boys shuffling their
+hobnailed shoes upon the stone floor and the audible guttural whisper of
+the churchwarden admonishing them to "mind the stick;" the stained-glass
+windows admitted the same pleasant light as of yore--all was unchanged.
+But Mrs. Goddard and Nellie occupied the cottage pew, and their presence
+alone was sufficient to mark to John the fact that he was now a man.
+
+The service was sympathetic to John Short. He liked the simplicity of it,
+even the rough singing of the choir, as compared with the solemn and
+magnificent musical services of Trinity College Chapel. But it seemed
+very long before it was all over and he was waiting for Mrs. Goddard
+outside the church door.
+
+There were more greetings, more "Merry Christmas" and "Many happy
+returns." Mrs. Goddard looked more charming than ever and was quite as
+cordial as on the previous evening.
+
+"How much better it all looked this morning by daylight," she said.
+
+"I think it looked very pretty last night," answered John. "There is
+nothing so delightful as Christmas decorations, is there?"
+
+"Perhaps you will come down next year and help us again?" suggested Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"Yes--well, I might come at Easter, for that matter," answered the young
+man, who after finding it impossible to visit Billingsfield during two
+years and a half, now saw no difficulty whatever in the way of making two
+visits in the course of six months. "Do you still decorate at Easter?" he
+asked.
+
+"Oh yes--do you think you can come?" she said pleasantly. "I thought you
+were to be very busy just then."
+
+"Yes, that is true," answered John. "But of course I could come, you
+know, if it were necessary."
+
+"Hardly exactly necessary--" Mrs. Goddard laughed.
+
+"The doctor told me some relaxation was absolutely indispensable for my
+health," said John rather sententiously.
+
+"You don't really look very ill--are you?" She seemed incredulous.
+
+"Oh no, of course not--only a little overworked sometimes."
+
+"In that case I have no doubt it would do you good," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Do you really think so?" asked John, hopefully.
+
+"Oh--that is a matter for your doctor to decide. I cannot possibly tell,"
+she answered.
+
+"I think you would make a very good doctor, Mrs. Goddard," said John
+venturing on a bolder flight.
+
+"Really--I never thought of trying it," she replied with a little laugh.
+"Good morning, Mr. Ambrose. Nellie wants to thank you for your beautiful
+present. It was really too good of you."
+
+The vicar came out of the vestry and joined the group in the path. Mrs.
+Ambrose, who had been asking Tom Judd's wife about her baby, also came
+up, and the squire, who had been presenting Mr. Reid with ten shillings
+for his Christmas box and who looked singularly bereaved without the
+faithful Stamboul at his heels, sauntered up and began congratulating
+everybody. In the distance the last of the congregation, chiefly the old
+women and cripples who could not keep up with the rest, hobbled away
+through the white gate of the churchyard.
+
+It had been previously agreed that if the ice would bear there should be
+skating in the afternoon and the squire was anxious to inform the party
+that the pond was in excellent condition.
+
+"As black as your hat," he said cheerfully. "Stamboul and I have been
+sliding all over it, so of course it would bear an ox. It did not crack
+anywhere."
+
+"Do you skate, Mrs. Goddard?" asked John.
+
+"Not very well--not nearly so well as Nellie. But I am very fond of it."
+
+"Will you let me push you about in a chair, then? It is capital fun."
+
+"Very good fun for me, no doubt," answered Mrs. Goddard, laughing.
+
+"I would rather do it than anything else," said John in a tone of
+conviction. "It is splendid exercise, pushing people about in chairs."
+
+"So it is," said the squire, heartily. "We will take turns, Mr. Short."
+The suggestion did not meet with any enthusiastic response from John, who
+wished Mr. Juxon were not able to skate.
+
+Poor John, he had but one idea, which consisted simply in getting Mrs.
+Goddard to himself as often and as long as possible. Unfortunately this
+idea did not coincide with Mr. Juxon's views. Mr. Juxon was an older,
+slower and calmer man than the enthusiastic young scholar, and though
+very far from obtruding his views or making any assertion of his rights,
+was equally far from forgetting them. He was a man more of actions than
+words. He had been in the habit of monopolising Mrs. Goddard's society
+for months and he had no intention of relinquishing his claims, even for
+the charitable purpose of allowing a poor student to enjoy his Christmas
+holiday and bit of romance undisturbed. If John had presented himself as
+a boy, it might have been different; but John emphatically considered
+himself a man, and the squire was quite willing to treat him as such,
+since he desired it. That is to say he would not permit him to "cut him
+out" as he would have expressed it. The result of the position in which
+John and Mr. Juxon soon found themselves was to be expected.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+John did not sleep so peacefully nor dream so happily that night as on
+the night before. The course of true love had not run smooth that
+afternoon. The squire had insisted upon having his share of the lovely
+Mrs. Goddard's society and she herself had not seemed greatly disturbed
+at a temporary separation from John. The latter amused her for a little
+while; the former held the position of a friend whose conversation she
+liked better than that of other people. John was disappointed and thought
+of going back to Cambridge the next day. So strong, indeed, was his
+sudden desire to leave Billingsfield without finishing his visit, that
+before going to bed he had packed some of his belongings into his small
+portmanteau; the tears almost stood in his eyes as he busied himself
+about his room and he muttered certain formulae of self-accusation as he
+collected his things, saying over and over in his heart--"What a fool I
+am! Why should she care for me? What am I that she should care for me?"
+etc. etc. Then he opened his window and looked at the bright stars which
+shone out over the old yew tree; but it was exceedingly cold, and so he
+shut it again and went to bed, feeling very uncomfortable and unhappy.
+
+But when he awoke in the morning he looked at his half-packed portmanteau
+and laughed, and instead of saying "What a fool I am!" he said "What a
+fool I was!"--which is generally and in most conditions of human affairs
+a much wiser thing to say. Then he carefully took everything out of the
+portmanteau again and replaced things as they had lain before in his
+room, lest perchance Susan, the housemaid, should detect what had passed
+through his mind on the previous evening and should tell Mrs. Ambrose.
+And from all this it appears that John was exceedingly young, as indeed
+he was, in spite of his being nearly one and twenty years of age. But
+doubtless if men were willing to confess their disappointments and
+foolish, impetuous resolutions, many would be found who have done
+likewise, being in years much older than John Short. Unfortunately for
+human nature most men would rather confess to positive wrong-doing than
+to any such youthful follies as these, while they are young; and when
+they are old they would rather be thought young and foolish than confess
+the evil deeds they have actually done.
+
+John, however, did not moralise upon his situation. The weather was again
+fine and as he dressed his spirits rose. He became magnanimous and
+resolved to forget yesterday and make the most of today. He would see
+Mrs. Goddard of course; perhaps he would show her a little coldness at
+first, giving her to understand that she had not treated him well on the
+previous afternoon; then he would interest her by his talk--he would
+repeat to her one of those unlucky odes and translate it for her benefit,
+making use of the freedom he would thus get in order to make her an
+unlimited number of graceful compliments. Perhaps, too, he ought to pay
+more attention to Nellie, if he wished to conciliate her mother. Women,
+he reflected, have such strange prejudices!
+
+He wondered whether it would be proper for him to call upon Mrs. Goddard.
+He was not quite sure about it, and he was rather ashamed of having so
+little knowledge of the world; but he believed that in Billingsfield he
+might run the risk. There had been talk of skating again that morning,
+and so, about ten o'clock, John told Mr. Ambrose he would go for a short
+walk and then join them all at the pond in the park. The project seemed
+good, and he put it into execution. As he walked up the frozen road, he
+industriously repeated in his mind the Greek verses he was going to
+translate to Mrs. Goddard; he had no copy of them but his memory was very
+good. He met half a dozen labourers, strolling about with their pipes
+until it was time to go and have a pint of beer, as is their manner upon
+holidays; they touched their hats to him, remembering his face well, and
+he smiled happily at the rough fellows, contrasting his situation with
+theirs, who from the misfortune of social prejudice were not permitted to
+go and call upon Mrs. Goddard. His heart beat rather fast as he went up
+to the door of the cottage, and for one unpleasant moment he again
+doubted whether it was proper for him to make such an early visit. But
+being bent on romantic adventure he rang boldly and inquired for Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+She was surprised to see John at that hour and alone; but it did not
+enter her head to refuse him admittance. Indeed as he stood in the little
+passage he heard the words which passed between her and Martha.
+
+"What is it, Martha?"
+
+"It's a young gentleman, mam. I rather think, mam, it's the young
+gentleman that's stopping at the vicarage."
+
+"Oh--ask him to come in."
+
+"In 'ere, mam?"
+
+"No--into the sitting-room," said Mrs. Goddard, who was busy in the
+dining-room.
+
+John was accordingly ushered in and told to wait a minute; which he did,
+surveying with surprise the beautiful pictures, the rich looking
+furniture and the valuable objects that lay about upon the tables. He
+experienced a thrill of pleasure, for he felt sure that Mrs. Goddard
+possessed another qualification which he had unconsciously attributed to
+her--that of being accustomed to a certain kind of luxury, which in
+John's mind was mysteriously connected with his romance. It is one of the
+most undefinable of the many indefinite feelings to which young men in
+love are subject, especially young men who have been, or are, very poor.
+They like to connect ideas of wealth and comfort, even of a luxurious
+existence, with the object of their affections. They desire the world of
+love to be new to them, and in order to be wholly new in their
+experience, it must be rich. The feeling is not so wholly unworthy as it
+might seem; they instinctively place their love upon a pedestal and
+require its surroundings to be of a better kind than such as they have
+been accustomed to in their own lives. King Cophetua, being a king, could
+afford to love the beggar maid, and a very old song sings of a "lady who
+loved a swine," but the names of the poor young men who have loved above
+their fortune and station are innumerable as the swallows in spring. John
+saw that Mrs. Goddard was much richer than he had ever been, and without
+the smallest second thought was pleased. In a few moments she entered the
+room. John had his speech ready.
+
+"I thought, if you were going to skate, I would call and ask leave to go
+with you," he said glibly, as she gave him her hand.
+
+"Oh--thanks. But is not it rather early?"
+
+"It is twenty minutes past ten," said John, looking at the clock.
+
+"Well, let us get warm before starting," said Mrs. Goddard, sitting down
+by the fire. "It is so cold this morning."
+
+John thought she was lovely to look at as she sat there, warming her
+hands and shielding her face from the flame with them at the same time.
+She looked at him and smiled pleasantly, but said nothing. She was still
+a little surprised to see him and wondered whether he himself had
+anything to say.
+
+"Yes," said John, "it is very cold--traditional Christmas weather. Could
+not be finer, in fact, could it?"
+
+"No--it could not be finer," echoed Mrs. Goddard, suppressing a smile.
+Then as though to help him out of his embarrassment by giving an impulse
+to the conversation, she added, "By the bye, Mr. Short, while we are
+warming ourselves why do not you let me hear one of your odes?"
+
+She meant it kindly, thinking it would give him pleasure, as indeed it
+did. John's heart leaped and he blushed all over his face with delight.
+Mrs. Goddard was not quite sure whether she had done right, but she
+attributed his evident satisfaction to his vanity as a scholar.
+
+"Certainly," he said with alacrity, "if you would like to hear it. Would
+you care to hear me repeat the Greek first?"
+
+"Oh, of all things. I do not think I have ever heard Greek."
+
+John cleared his throat and began, glancing at his hostess rather
+nervously from time to time. But his memory never failed him, and he went
+on to the end without a break or hesitation.
+
+"How do you think it sounds?" he asked timidly when he had finished.
+
+"It sounds very funny," said Mrs. Goddard. "I had no idea Greek sounded
+like that--but it has a pleasant rhythm."
+
+"That is the thing," said John, enthusiastically. "I see you really
+appreciate it. Of course nobody knows how the ancients pronounced Greek,
+and if one pronounced it as the moderns do, it would sound all wrong--but
+the rhythm is the thing, you know. It is impossible to get over that."
+
+Mrs. Goddard was not positively sure what he meant by "getting over the
+rhythm;" possibly John himself could not have defined his meaning very
+clearly. But his cheeks glowed and he was very much pleased.
+
+"Yes, of course," said Mrs. Goddard confidently. "But what does it all
+mean, Mr. Short?"
+
+"Would you really like to know?" asked John in fresh embarrassment. He
+suddenly realised how wonderfully delightful it was to be repeating his
+own poetry to the woman for whom it was written.
+
+"Indeed yes--what is the use of your telling me all sorts of things in
+Greek, if you do not tell me what they mean?"
+
+"Yes--you will promise not to be offended?"
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Goddard; then blushing a little she added, "it is
+quite--I mean--quite the sort of thing, is not it?"
+
+"Oh quite," said John, blushing too, but looking grave for a moment. Then
+he repeated the English translation of the verses which, as they were
+certainly not so good as the original, may be omitted here. They set
+forth that in the vault of the world's night a new star had appeared
+which men had not yet named, nor would be likely to name until the power
+of human speech should be considerably increased, and the verses dwelt
+upon the theme, turning it and revolving it in several ways, finally
+declaring that the far-darting sun must look out for his interests unless
+he meant to be outshone by the new star. Translated into English there
+was nothing very remarkable about the performance though the original
+Greek ode was undoubtedly very good of its kind. But Mrs. Goddard was
+determined to be pleased.
+
+"I think it is charming," she said, when John had reached the end and
+paused for her criticism.
+
+"The Greek is very much better," said John doubtfully. "I cannot write
+English verses--they seem to me so much harder."
+
+"I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard. "But did you really write that
+when--" she stopped not knowing exactly how to express herself. But
+John had his answer ready.
+
+"Oh, I wrote ever so many," he said, "and I have got them all at
+Cambridge. But that is the only one I quite remember. I wrote them just
+after the day when I waked up Muggins--the only time I had seen you till
+now. I think I could--"
+
+"How funny it seems," said Mrs. Goddard, "without knowing a person, to
+write verses to them! How did you manage to do it?"
+
+"I was going to say that I think--I am quite sure--I could write much
+better things to you now."
+
+"Oh, that is impossible--quite absurd, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard,
+laughing more gaily than usual.
+
+"Why?" asked John, somewhat emboldened by his success. "I do not see why,
+if one has an ideal, you know, one should not understand it much better
+when one comes near to it."
+
+"Yes--but--how can I possibly be your ideal?" She felt herself so much
+older than John that she thought it was out of the question to be
+annoyed; so she treated him in a matter of fact way, and was really
+amused at his talk.
+
+"I don't see why not," answered John stoutly. "You might be any man's
+ideal."
+
+"Oh, really--" ejaculated Mrs. Goddard, somewhat startled at the force of
+the sweeping compliment. To be told point-blank, even by an enthusiastic
+youth of one and twenty, that one is the ideal woman, must be either very
+pleasant or very startling.
+
+"Excuse me," she said quickly, before he could answer her, "you know of
+course I am very ignorant--yes I am--but will you please tell me what is
+an 'ideal'?"
+
+"Why--yes," said John, "it is very easy. Ideal comes from idea. Plato
+meant, by the idea, the perfect model--well, do you see?"
+
+"Not exactly," said Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"It is very simple. When I, when anybody, says you are the ideal woman,
+it is meant that you are the perfect model, the archetype of a woman."
+
+"Yes--but that is absurd," said his companion rather coldly.
+
+"I am sorry that it should seem absurd," said John in a persuasive tone;
+"it seems very natural to me. A man thinks for a long time about
+everything that most attracts him and then, on a sudden, he sees it all
+before him, quite real and alive, and then he says he has realised his
+ideal. But you liked the verses, Mrs. Goddard?" he added quickly, hoping
+to bring back the smile that had vanished from her face. He had a strong
+impression that he had been a little too familiar. Probably Mrs. Goddard
+thought so too.
+
+"Oh yes, I think they are very nice," she answered. But the smile did not
+come back. She was not displeased, but she was not pleased either; she
+was wondering how far this boy would go if she would let him. John,
+however, felt unpleasantly doubtful about what he had done.
+
+"I hope you are not displeased," he said.
+
+"Oh, not in the least," said she. "Shall we go to the park and skate?"
+
+"I am not sure that I will skate to-day," said John, foolishly. Mrs.
+Goddard looked at him in unfeigned surprise.
+
+"Why not? I thought it was for that--"
+
+"Oh, of course," said John quickly. "Only it is not very amusing to skate
+when Mr. Juxon is pushing you about in a chair."
+
+"Really--why should not he push me about, if I like it?"
+
+"If you like it--that is different," answered John impatiently.
+
+Mrs. Goddard began to think that John was very like a spoiled child, and
+she resented his evident wish to monopolise her society. She left the
+room to get ready for the walk, vaguely wishing that he had not come.
+
+"I have made a fool of myself again," said John to himself, when he was
+left alone; and he suddenly wished he could get out of the house without
+seeing her again. But before he had done wishing, she returned.
+
+"Where is Miss Nellie?" he asked gloomily, as they walked down the path.
+"I hope she is coming too."
+
+"She went up to the pond with Mr. Juxon, just before you came."
+
+"Do you let her go about like that, without you?" asked John severely.
+
+"Why not? Really, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, glancing up at his face,
+"either you dislike Mr. Juxon very much, or else I think you take a
+good deal upon yourself in remarking--in this way--"
+
+She was naturally a little timid, but John's youth and what she
+considered as his extraordinary presumption inspired her with courage to
+protest. The effect upon John was instantaneous.
+
+"Pray forgive me," he said humbly, "I am very silly. I daresay you are
+quite right and I do not like Mr. Juxon. Not that I have the smallest
+reason for not liking him," he continued quickly, "it is a mere personal
+antipathy, a mere idea, I daresay--very foolish of me."
+
+"It is very foolish to take unreasonable dislikes to people one knows
+nothing about," she said quietly. "Will you please open the gate?" They
+were standing before the bars, but John was so much disturbed in mind
+that he stood still, quite forgetting to raise the long iron latch.
+
+"Dear me--I beg your pardon--I cannot imagine what I was thinking of," he
+said, making the most idiotic excuse current in English idiom.
+
+"Nor I," said Mrs. Goddard, with a little laugh, as he held the gate back
+for her to pass. It was a plain white gate with stone pillars, and there
+was no gatehouse. People who came to the Hall were expected to open it
+for themselves. Mrs. Goddard was so much amused at John's absence of mind
+that her good humour returned, and he felt that since that object was
+attained he no longer regretted his folly in the least. The cloud that
+had darkened the horizon of his romance had passed quickly away, and once
+more he said inwardly that he was enjoying the happiest days of his life.
+If for a moment the image of Mr. Juxon entered the field of his
+imaginative vision in the act of pushing Mrs. Goddard's chair upon the
+ice, he mentally ejaculated "bother the squire!" as he had done upon the
+previous night, and soon forgot all about him. The way through the park
+was long, the morning was delightful and Mrs. Goddard did not seem to be
+in a hurry.
+
+"I wish the winter would last for ever," he said presently.
+
+"So do I," answered his companion, "it is the pleasantest time of the
+year. One does not feel that nature is dead because one is sure she will
+very soon be alive again."
+
+"That is a charming idea," said John, "one might make a good subject of
+it."
+
+"It is a little old, perhaps. I think I have heard it before--have not
+you?"
+
+"All good ideas are old. The older the better," said John confidently.
+Mrs. Goddard could not resist the temptation of teazing him a little.
+They had grown very intimate in forty-eight hours; it had taken six
+months for Mr. Juxon to reach the point John had won in two days.
+
+"Are they?" she asked quietly. "Is that the reason you selected me for
+the 'idea' of your ode, which you explained to me?"
+
+"You?" said John in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Why, you are not any
+older than I am!"
+
+"Do you think so?" she inquired with a demure smile. "I am very much
+older than you think."
+
+"You must be--I mean, you know, you must be older than you look."
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Goddard, still smiling, and just resting the tips
+of her fingers upon his arm as she stepped across a slippery place in the
+frozen road. "Yes, I am a great deal older than you."
+
+John would have liked very much to ask her age, but even to his youthful
+and unsophisticated mind such a question seemed almost too personal. He
+did not really believe that she was more than five years older than he,
+and that seemed to be no difference at all.
+
+"I don't know," he said. "I am nearly one and twenty."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Goddard, who had heard every detail concerning
+John from Mr. Ambrose, again and again. "Just think," she added with a
+laugh, "only one and twenty! Why when I was one and twenty I was--" she
+stopped short.
+
+"What were you doing then?" asked John, trying not to seem too curious.
+
+"I was living in London," she said quietly. She half enjoyed his
+disappointment.
+
+"Yes," he said, "I daresay. But what--well, I suppose I ought not to ask
+any questions."
+
+"Certainly not," said she. "It is very rude to ask a lady questions about
+her age."
+
+"I do not mean to be rude again," said John, pretending to laugh. "Have
+you always been fond of skating?" he asked, fixing his eye upon a distant
+tree, and trying to look unconscious.
+
+"No--I only learned since I came here. Besides, I skate very badly."
+
+"Did Mr. Juxon teach you?" asked John, still gazing into the distance.
+From not looking at the path he slipped on a frozen puddle and nearly
+fell. Whereat, as usual, when he did anything awkward, he blushed to the
+brim of his hat.
+
+"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly. "You will fall if you don't look
+where you are going. No; Mr. Juxon was not here last year. He only came
+here in the summer."
+
+"It seems to me that he has always been here," said John, trying to
+recover his equanimity. "Then I suppose Mr. Ambrose taught you to skate?"
+
+"Exactly--Mr. Ambrose taught me. He skates very well."
+
+"So will you, with a little more practice," answered her companion in a
+rather patronising tone. He intended perhaps to convey the idea that Mrs.
+Goddard would improve in the exercise if she would actually skate, and
+with him, instead of submitting to be pushed about in a chair by Mr.
+Juxon.
+
+"Oh, I daresay," said Mrs. Goddard indifferently. "We shall soon be
+there, now. I can hear them on the ice."
+
+"Too soon," said John with regret.
+
+"I thought you liked skating so much."
+
+"I like walking with you much better," he replied, and he glanced at her
+face to see if his speech produced any sign of sympathy.
+
+"You have walked with me; now you can skate with Nellie," suggested Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"You talk as though I were a child," said John, suddenly losing his
+temper in a very unaccountable way.
+
+"Because I said you might skate with Nellie? Really, I don't see why. Mr.
+Juxon is not a child, and he has been skating with her all the morning."
+
+"That is different," retorted John growing very red.
+
+"Yes--Nellie is much nearer to your age than to Mr. Juxon's," answered
+Mrs. Goddard, with a calmness which made John desperate.
+
+"Really, Mrs. Goddard," he said stiffly, "I cannot see what that has to
+do with it."
+
+"'The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the lady so much older
+than myself has charged--' How does the quotation end, Mr. Short?"
+
+"'Has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither
+attempt to palliate nor deny,'" said John savagely. "Quite so, Mrs.
+Goddard. I shall not attempt to palliate it, nor will I venture to deny
+it."
+
+"Then why in the world are you so angry with me?" she asked, suddenly
+turning her violet eyes upon him. "I was only laughing, you know."
+
+"Only laughing!" repeated John. "It is more pleasant to laugh than to be
+laughed at."
+
+"Yes--would not you allow me the pleasure then, just for once?"
+
+"Certainly, if you desire it. You are so extremely merry--"
+
+"Come, Mr. Short, we must not seem to have been quarrelling when we reach
+the pond. It would be too ridiculous."
+
+"Everything seems to strike you in a humorous light to-day," answered
+John, beginning to be pacified by her tone.
+
+"Do you know, you are much more interesting when you are angry," said
+Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"And you only made me angry in order to see whether I was interesting?"
+
+"Perhaps--but then, I could not help it in the least."
+
+"I trust you are thoroughly satisfied upon the point, Mrs. Goddard? If
+there is anything more that I can do to facilitate your researches in
+psychology--"
+
+"You would help me? Even to the extent of being angry again?" She smiled
+so pleasantly and frankly that John's wrath vanished.
+
+"It is impossible to be angry with you. I am very sorry if I seemed to
+be," he answered. "A man who has the good fortune to be thrown into your
+society is a fool to waste his time in being disagreeable."
+
+"I agree with the conclusion, at all events--that is, it is much better
+to be agreeable. Is it not? Let us be friends."
+
+"Oh, by all means," said John.
+
+They walked on for some minutes in silence. John reflected that he had
+witnessed a phase of Mrs. Goddard's character of which he had been very
+far from suspecting the existence. He had not hitherto imagined her to be
+a woman of quick temper or sharp speech. His idea of her was formed
+chiefly upon her appearance. Her sad face, with its pathetic expression,
+suggested a melancholy humour delighting in subdued and tranquil
+thoughts, inclined naturally to the romantic view, or to what in the eyes
+of youths of twenty appears to be the romantic view of life. He had
+suddenly found her answering him with a sharpness which, while it roused
+his wits, startled his sensibilities. But he was flattered as well. His
+instinct and his observation of Mrs. Goddard when in the society of
+others led him to believe that with Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, or even with
+Mr. Juxon, she was not in the habit of talking as she talked with him. He
+was therefore inwardly pleased, so soon as his passing annoyance had
+subsided, to feel that she made a difference between him and others.
+
+It was quite true that she made a distinction, though she did so almost
+unconsciously. It was perfectly natural, too. She was young in heart, in
+spite of her thirty years and her troubles; she had an elastic
+temperament; to a physiognomist her face would have shown a delicate
+sensitiveness to impressions rather than any inborn tendency to sadness.
+In spite of everything she was still young, and for two years and a half
+she had been in the society of persons much older than herself, persons
+she respected and regarded as friends, but persons in whom her youth
+found no sympathy. It was natural, therefore, that when time to some
+extent had healed the wound she had suffered and she suddenly found
+herself in the society of a young and enthusiastic man, something of the
+enforced soberness of her manner should unbend, showing her character in
+a new light. She herself enjoyed the change, hardly knowing why; she
+enjoyed a little passage of arms with John, and it amused her more than
+she could have expected to be young again, to annoy him, to break the
+peace and heal it again in five minutes. But what happened entirely
+failed to amuse the squire, who did not regard such diversions as
+harmless; and moreover she was far from expecting the effect which her
+treatment of John Short produced upon his scholarly but enthusiastic
+temper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+The squire had remarked that John Short seemed to have a peculiar temper,
+and Mrs. Goddard had observed the same thing. What has gone before
+sufficiently explains the change in John's manner, and the difference in
+his behaviour was plainly apparent even to Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose. The
+vicar indeed was wise enough to see that John was very much attracted by
+Mrs. Goddard, but he was also wise enough to say nothing about it. His
+wife, however, who had witnessed no love-making for nearly thirty years,
+except the courtship of the young physician who had married her daughter,
+attributed John's demeanour to no such disturbing cause. He was
+overworked, she said; he was therefore irritable; he had of course never
+taken that excellent homoeopathic remedy, highly diluted aconite, since
+he had left the vicarage; the consequence was that he was subject to
+nervous headache--she only hoped he would not be taken ill on the eve of
+the examination for honours. She hoped, too, that he would prolong his
+holiday to the very last moment, for the country air and the rest he
+enjoyed were sure to do him so much good. With regard, to the extension
+of John's visit, the vicar thought differently, although he held his
+peace. There were many reasons why John should not become attached to
+Mrs. Goddard both for her sake and his own, and if he staid long, the
+vicar felt quite sure that he would fall in love with her. She was
+dangerously pretty, she was much older than John--which in the case of
+very young men constitutes an additional probability--she evidently took
+an innocent pleasure in his society, and altogether such a complication
+as was likely to ensue was highly undesirable. Therefore, when Mrs.
+Ambrose pressed John to stay longer than he had intended, the vicar not
+only gave him no encouragement, but spoke gravely of the near approach of
+the contest for honours, of the necessity of concentrating every force
+for the coming struggle, and expressed at the same time the firm
+conviction that, if John did his best, he ought to be the senior classic
+in the year.
+
+Even Mrs. Goddard urged him to go. Of course he asked her advice. He
+would not have lost that opportunity of making her speak of himself, nor
+of gauging the exact extent of the interest he hoped she felt in him.
+
+It was two or three days after the long conversation he had enjoyed with
+her. In that time they had met often and John's admiration for her,
+strengthened by his own romantic desire to be really in love, had begun
+to assume proportions which startled Mrs. Goddard and annoyed Mr. Juxon.
+The latter felt that the boy was in his way; whenever he wanted to see
+Mrs. Goddard, John was at her side, talking eagerly and contesting his
+position against the squire with a fierceness which in an older and wiser
+man would have been in the worst possible taste. Even as it was, Mr.
+Juxon looked considerably annoyed as he stood by, smoothing his smooth
+hair from time to time with his large white hand and feeling that even at
+his age, and with his experience, a man might sometimes cut a poor
+figure.
+
+On the particular occasion when the relations between John and the squire
+became an object of comment to Mrs. Ambrose, the whole party were
+assembled at Mrs. Goddard's cottage. She had invited everybody to tea, a
+meal which in her little household represented a compromise between her
+appetite and Nellie's. She had felt that in the small festivities of the
+Billingsfield Christmas season she was called upon to do her share with
+the rest and, being a simple woman, she took her part simply, and did not
+dignify the entertainment of her four friends by calling it a dinner. The
+occasion was none the less hospitable, for she gave both time and thought
+to her preparations. Especially she had considered the question of
+precedence; it was doubtful, she thought, whether the squire or the vicar
+should sit upon her right hand. The squire, as being lord of the manor,
+represented the powers temporal, the vicar on the other hand represented
+the church, which on ordinary occasions takes precedence of the lay
+faculty. She had at last privately consulted Mr. Juxon, in whom she had
+the greatest confidence, asking him frankly which she should do, and Mr.
+Juxon had unhesitatingly yielded the post of honour to the vicar, adding
+to enforce his opinion the very plausible argument that if he, the
+squire, took Mrs. Goddard in to tea, the vicar would have to give his arm
+either to little Nellie or to his own wife. Mrs. Goddard was convinced
+and the affair was a complete success.
+
+John felt that he could not complain of his position, but as he was
+separated from the object of his admiration during the whole meal, he
+resolved to indemnify himself for his sufferings by monopolising her
+conversation during the rest of the evening. The squire on the other
+hand, who had been obliged to talk to Mrs. Ambrose during most of the
+time while they were at table, and who, moreover, was beginning to feel
+that he had seen almost enough of John Short, determined to give the
+young man a lesson in the art of interesting women in general and Mrs.
+Goddard in particular. She, indeed, would not have been a woman at all
+had she not understood the two men and their intentions. After tea the
+party congregated round the fire in the little drawing-room, standing in
+a circle, of which their hostess formed the centre. Mr. Juxon and John,
+anticipating that Mrs. Goddard must ultimately sit upon one side or other
+of the fireplace had at first chosen opposite sides, each hoping that she
+would take the chair nearest to himself. But Mrs. Goddard remained
+standing an unreasonably long time, for the very reason that she did not
+choose to sit beside either of them. Seeing this the squire, who had
+perhaps a greater experience than his adversary in this kind of strategic
+warfare, left his place and put himself on the same side as John. He
+argued that Mrs. Goddard would probably then choose the opposite side,
+whereas John who was younger would think she would come towards the two
+where they stood; John would consequently lose time, Mr. Juxon would
+cross again and install himself by her side while his enemy was
+hesitating.
+
+While these moves and counter-moves were proceeding, the conversation was
+general. The vicar was for the hundredth time admiring the Andrea del
+Sarto over the chimney-piece and his wife was explaining her general
+objections to the representation of sacred subjects upon canvas, while
+Mrs. Goddard answered each in turn and endeavoured to disagree with
+neither. What the squire had foreseen when he made his last move,
+however, actually took place at last. Mrs. Goddard established herself
+upon the side opposite the two men. Mr. Juxon crossed rapidly to where
+she was seated, and Mrs. Ambrose, who had turned with the intention of
+speaking to the squire, found herself confronted by John. He saw that he
+had been worsted by his foe and immediately lost his temper; but being
+brought face to face with Mrs. Ambrose was obliged to control it as he
+might. That excellent lady beamed upon him with a maternal smile of the
+kind which is peculiarly irritating to young men. He struggled to get
+away however, glancing over Mrs. Ambrose's shoulder at the squire and
+longing to be "at him" as he would have expressed it. But the squire was
+not to be got at so easily, for the vicar's wife was of a fine presence
+and covered much ground. John involuntarily thought of the dyke before
+Troy, of Hector and his heroes attempting to storm it and of the Ajaces
+and Sarpedon defending it and glaring down from above. He could
+appreciate Hector's feelings--Mrs. Ambrose was very like the dyke.
+
+The squire smiled serenely and smoothed his hair as he talked to Mrs.
+Goddard and she herself looked by no means discontented, thereby adding,
+as it were, an insult to the injury done to John.
+
+"I shall always envy you the cottage," the squire was saying. "I have not
+a single room in the Hall that is half so cheery in the evening."
+
+"I shall never forget my terror when we first met," answered Mrs.
+Goddard, "do you remember? You frightened me by saying you would like to
+live here. I thought you meant it."
+
+"You must have thought I was the most unmannerly of barbarians."
+
+"Instead of being the best of landlords," added Mrs. Goddard with a
+grateful smile.
+
+"I hardly know whether I am that," said Mr. Juxon, settling himself in
+his chair. "But I believe I am by nature an exceedingly comfortable man,
+and I never fail to consult the interests of my comfort."
+
+"And of mine. Think of all you have done to improve this place. I can
+never thank you enough. I suppose one always feels particularly grateful
+at Christmas time--does not one?"
+
+"One has more to be grateful for, it seems to me--in our climate, too.
+People in southern countries never really know what comfort means,
+because nature never makes them thoroughly uncomfortable. Only a man who
+is freezing can appreciate a good fire."
+
+"I suppose you have been a good deal in such places," suggested Mrs.
+Goddard, vaguely.
+
+"Oh yes--everywhere," answered the squire with equal indefiniteness. "By
+the bye, talking of travelling, when is our young friend going away?"
+There was not a shade of ill-humour in the question.
+
+"The day after New Year's--I believe."
+
+"He has had a very pleasant visit."
+
+"Yes," replied Mrs. Goddard, "I hope it will do him a great deal of
+good."
+
+"Why? Was he ill? Ah--I remember, they said he had worked too hard. It is
+a great mistake to work too hard, especially when one is very young."
+
+"He is very young, is not he?" remarked Mrs. Goddard with a faint smile,
+remembering the many conversations she had had with him.
+
+"Very. Did it ever strike you that--well, that he was losing his head a
+little?"
+
+"No," answered his companion innocently. "What about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. Only he has rather a peculiar temper. He is perpetually
+getting very angry with no ostensible reason--and then he glares at one
+like an angry cat."
+
+"Take care," said Mrs. Goddard, "he might hear you."
+
+"Do him good," said the squire cheerfully.
+
+"Oh, no! It would hurt his feelings dreadfully. How can you be so
+unkind?"
+
+"He is a very good boy, you know. Really, I believe he is. Only he is
+inclined to be rather too unreasonable; I should think he might be
+satisfied."
+
+"Satisfied with what?" inquired Mrs. Goddard, who did not wish to
+understand.
+
+"With the way you have treated him," returned the squire bluntly. "You
+have been wonderfully good to him."
+
+"Have I?" The faint colour rose to her cheek. "I don't know--poor fellow!
+I daresay his life at Cambridge is very dull."
+
+"Yes. Entirely devoid of that species of amusement which he has enjoyed
+so abundantly in Billingsfield. It is not every undergraduate who has a
+chance to talk to you for a week at a time."
+
+Mr. Juxon made the remark very calmly, without seeming to be in the least
+annoyed. He was much too wise a man to appear to be displeased at Mrs.
+Goddard's treatment of John. Moreover, he felt that on the present
+occasion, at least, John had been summarily worsted; it was his turn to
+be magnanimous.
+
+"If you are going to make compliments, I will go away," said Mrs.
+Goddard.
+
+"I? I never made a compliment in my life," replied the squire
+complacently. "Do you think it is a compliment to tell you that Mr. Short
+probably enjoys your conversation much more than the study of Greek
+roots?"
+
+"Well--not exactly--"
+
+"Besides, in general," continued the squire, "compliments are mere waste
+of breath. If a woman has any vanity she knows her own good points much
+better than any man who attempts to explain them to her; and if she has
+no vanity, no amount of explanation of her merits will make her see them
+in a proper light."
+
+"That is very true," answered Mrs. Goddard, thoughtfully. "It never
+struck me before. I wonder whether that is the reason women always like
+men who never make any compliments at all?"
+
+The squire's face assumed an amusing expression of inquiry and surprise.
+
+"Is that personal?" he asked.
+
+"Oh--of course not," answered Mrs. Goddard in some confusion. She blushed
+and turning towards the fire took up the poker and pretended to stir the
+coals. Women always delight in knocking a good fire to pieces, out of
+pure absence of mind. John Short saw the movement and, escaping suddenly
+from the maternal conversation of Mrs. Ambrose, threw himself upon his
+knee on the hearth-rug and tried to take the poker from his hostess's
+hand.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, don't! Let me do it--please!" he exclaimed.
+
+"But I can do it very well myself," said she protesting and not relaxing
+her hold upon the poker. But John was obstinate in his determination to
+save her trouble, and rudely tried to get the instrument away.
+
+"Please don't--you hurt me," said Mrs. Goddard petulantly.
+
+"Oh--I beg your pardon--I wanted to help you," said John leaving his
+hold. "I did not really hurt you--did I?" he asked, almost tenderly.
+
+"Dreadfully," replied Mrs. Goddard, half angry and half amused at his
+impatience and subsequent contrition. The squire sat complacently in his
+chair, watching the little scene. John hated him more than ever, and grew
+very red. Mrs. Goddard saw the boy's embarrassment and presently
+relented.
+
+"I daresay you will do it better than I," she said, handing him the
+poker, which John seized with alacrity. "That big coal--there," she
+added, pointing to a smouldering block in the corner of the grate.
+
+"I did not mean to be rude," said John. "I only wanted to help you." He
+knelt by her side poking the fire industriously. "I only wanted to get a
+chance to talk to you," he added, in a low voice, barely audible to Mrs.
+Goddard as she leaned forward.
+
+"I am afraid you cannot do that just now," she said, not unkindly, but
+with the least shade of severity in her tone. "You will get dreadfully
+hot if you stay there, so near the fire."
+
+"I don't mind the heat in the least," said John heroically. Nevertheless
+as she did not give him any further encouragement he was presently
+obliged to retire, greatly discomfited. He could not spend the evening on
+his knees with the poker in his hand.
+
+"Bad failure," remarked the squire in an undertone as soon as John had
+rejoined Mrs. Ambrose, who had not quite finished her lecture on
+homoeopathy.
+
+Mrs. Goddard leaned back in her chair and looked at Mr. Juxon rather
+coolly. She did not want him to laugh at John, though she was not willing
+to encourage John herself.
+
+"You should not be unkind," she said. "He is such a nice boy--why should
+you wish him to be uncomfortable?"
+
+"Oh, I don't in the least. I could not help being amused a little. I am
+sure I don't want to be unkind."
+
+Indeed the squire had not shown himself to be so, on the whole, and he
+did not refer to the matter again during the evening. He kept his place
+for some time by Mrs. Goddard's side and then, judging that he had
+sufficiently asserted his superiority, rose and talked to Mrs. Ambrose.
+But John, being now in a thoroughly bad humour, could not take his vacant
+seat with a good grace. He stood aloof and took up a book that lay upon
+the table and avoided looking at Mrs. Goddard. By and by, when the party
+broke up, he said good-night in such a particularly cold and formal tone
+of voice that she stared at him in surprise. But he took no notice of her
+look and went away after the Ambroses, in that state of mind which boys
+call a huff.
+
+But on the following day John repented of his behaviour. All day long he
+wandered about the garden of the vicarage, excusing himself from joining
+the daily skating which formed the staple of amusement during the
+Christmas week, by saying that he had an idea for a copy of verses and
+must needs work it out. But he inwardly hoped that Mrs. Goddard would
+come to the vicarage late in the afternoon, without the inevitable Mr.
+Juxon, and that he might then get a chance of talking to her. He was not
+quite sure what he should say. He would find words on the spur of the
+moment; it would at all events be much easier than to meet her on the ice
+at the Hall with all the rest of them and to see Mr. Juxon pushing her
+about in that detestable chair, with the unruffled air of superiority
+which John so hated to see upon his face. The vicar suspected more than
+ever that there was something wrong; he had seen some of the by-play on
+the previous evening, and had noticed John's ill-concealed disappointment
+at being unable to dislodge the sturdy squire from his seat. But Mrs.
+Ambrose seemed to be very obtuse, and the vicar would have been the last
+to have spoken of his suspicions, even to the wife of his bosom. It was
+his duty to induce John to go back to his work at the end of the week; it
+was not his duty to put imputations upon him which Mrs. Ambrose would
+naturally exaggerate and which would drive her excellent heart into a
+terrible state of nervous anxiety.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard did not come back to the vicarage on that day, and John
+went to dinner with a sad heart. It did not seem like a day at all if he
+had not seen her and talked with her. He had now no doubt whatever that
+he was seriously in love, and he set himself to consider his position.
+The more he considered it, the more irreconcilable it seemed to be with
+the passion which beset him. A child could see that for several years, at
+least, he would not be in a position to marry. With Mr. Juxon at hand
+from year's end to year's end, the owner of the Hall, of the
+Billingsfield property and according to all appearances of other
+resources besides,--with such a man constantly devoted to her, could Mrs.
+Goddard be expected to wait for poor John three years, even two years,
+from the time of the examination for the classical Tripos? Nothing was
+more improbable, he was forced to admit. And yet, the idea of life if he
+did not marry Mrs. Goddard was dismal beyond all expression; he would
+probably not survive it. He did not know what he should do. He shrank
+from the thought of declaring his love to her at once. He remembered with
+pain that she had a terrible way of laughing at him when he grew
+confidential or too complimentary, and he dreaded lest at the supreme
+moment of his life he should appear ridiculous in her eyes--he, a mere
+undergraduate. If he came out at the head of the Tripos it would be
+different; and yet that seemed so long to wait, especially while Mr.
+Juxon lived at the Hall and Mrs. Goddard lived at the park gates.
+Suddenly a thought struck him which filled him with delight; it was just
+possible that Mr. Juxon had no intention of marrying Mrs. Goddard. If he
+had any such views he would probably have declared them before now, for
+he had met her every day during more than half a year. John longed to ask
+some one the question. Perhaps Mr. Ambrose, who might be supposed to know
+everything connected with Mrs. Goddard, could tell him. He felt very
+nervous at the idea of speaking to the vicar on the subject, and yet it
+seemed to him that no one else could set his mind at rest. If he were
+quite certain that Mr. Juxon had no intention of offering himself to the
+charming tenant of the cottage, he might return to his work with some
+sense of security in the future. Otherwise he saw only the desperate
+alternative of throwing himself at her feet and declaring that he loved
+her, or of going back to Cambridge with the dreadful anticipation of
+hearing any day that she had married the squire. To be laughed at would
+be bad, but to feel that he had lost her irrevocably, without a struggle,
+would be awful. No one but the vicar could and would tell him the truth;
+it would be bitter to ask such a question, but it must be done. Having at
+last come to this formidable resolution, towards the conclusion of
+dinner, his spirits rose a little. He took another glass of the vicar's
+mild ale and felt that he could face his fate.
+
+"May I speak to you a moment in the study, Mr. Ambrose?" he said as they
+rose from table.
+
+"Certainly," replied the vicar; and having conducted his wife to the
+drawing-room, he returned to find John. There was a low, smouldering fire
+in the study grate, and John had lit a solitary candle. The room looked
+very dark and dismal and John was seated in one of the black leather
+chairs, waiting.
+
+"Anything about those verses you were speaking of to-day?" asked the
+vicar cheerfully, in anticipation of a pleasant classical chat.
+
+"No," said John, gloomily. "The fact is--" he cleared his throat, "the
+fact is, I want to ask you rather a delicate question, sir."
+
+The vicar's heavy eyebrows contracted; the lines of his face all turned
+downwards, and his long, clean-shaved upper lip closed sharply upon its
+fellow, like a steel trap. He turned his grey eyes upon John's averted
+face with a searching look.
+
+"Have you got into any trouble at Trinity, John?" he asked severely.
+
+"Oh no--no indeed," said John. Nothing was further from his thoughts than
+his college at that moment. "I want to ask you a question, which no one
+else can answer. Is--do you think that--that Mr. Juxon has any idea of
+marrying Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+The vicar started in astonishment and laid both hands upon the arms of
+his chair.
+
+"What--in the world--put that--into your head?" he asked very slowly,
+emphasising every word of his question. John was prepared to see his old
+tutor astonished but was rather taken aback at the vicar's tone.
+
+"Do you think it is likely, sir?" he insisted.
+
+"Certainly not," answered the vicar, still eyeing him suspiciously.
+"Certainly not. I have positive reasons to prove the contrary. But, my
+dear John, why, in the name of all that is sensible, do you ask me such a
+question? You don't seriously think of proposing--"
+
+"I don't see why I should not," said John doggedly, seeing that he was
+found out.
+
+"You don't see why you should not? Why the thing is perfectly absurd, not
+to say utterly impossible! John, you are certainly mad."
+
+"I don't see why," repeated John. "I am a grown man. I have good
+prospects--"
+
+"Good prospects!" ejaculated the vicar in horror. "Good prospects! Why,
+you are only an undergraduate at Cambridge."
+
+"I may be senior classic in a few months," objected John. "That is not
+such a bad prospect, it seems to me."
+
+"It means that you may get a fellowship, probably will--in the course of
+a few years. But you lose it if you marry. Besides--do you know that Mrs.
+Goddard is ten years older than you, and more?"
+
+"Impossible," said John in a tone of conviction.
+
+"I know that she is. She will be two and thirty on her next birthday, and
+you are not yet one and twenty."
+
+"I shall be next month," argued John, who was somewhat taken aback,
+however, by the alarming news of Mrs. Goddard's age. "Besides, I can go
+into the church, before I get a fellowship--"
+
+"No, you can't," said the vicar energetically. "You won't be able to
+manage it. If you do, you will have to put up with a poor living."
+
+"That would not matter. Mrs. Goddard has something--"
+
+"An honourable prospect!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, growing more and more
+excited. "To marry a woman ten years older than yourself because she has
+a little money of her own! You! I would not have thought it of you,
+John--indeed I would not!"
+
+Indeed no one was more surprised than John Short himself, when he found
+himself arguing the possibilities of his marriage with his old tutor. But
+he was an obstinate young fellow enough and was not inclined to give up
+the fight easily.
+
+"Really," he objected, "I cannot see anything so very terrible in the
+idea. I shall certainly make my way in the world. You know that it is not
+for the sake of her money. Many men have married women ten years older
+than themselves, and not half so beautiful and charming, I am sure."
+
+"I don't believe it," said the vicar, "and if they have, why it has been
+very different, that is all. Besides, you have not known Mrs. Goddard a
+week--positively not more than five days--why, it is madness! Do you mean
+to tell me that at the end of five days you believe you are seriously
+attached to a lady you never saw in your life before?"
+
+"I saw her once," said John. "That day when I waked Muggins--"
+
+"Once! Nearly three years ago! I have no patience with you, John! That a
+young fellow of your capabilities should give way to such a boyish fancy!
+It is absolutely amazing! I thought you were growing to like her society
+very much, but I did not believe it would, come to this!"
+
+"It is nothing to be ashamed of," said John stoutly.
+
+"It is something to be afraid of," answered the vicar.
+
+"Oh, do not be alarmed," retorted John. "I will do nothing rash. You have
+set my mind at rest in assuring me that she will not marry Mr. Juxon. I
+shall not think of offering myself to Mrs. Goddard until after the
+Tripos."
+
+"Offering myself"--how deliciously important the expression sounded to
+John's own ears! It conveyed such a delightful sense of the possibilities
+of life when at last he should feel that he was in a position to offer
+himself to any woman, especially to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"I have a great mind not to ask you to come down, even if you do turn out
+senior classic," said the vicar, still fuming with excitement. "But if
+you put off your rash action until then, you will probably have changed
+your mind."
+
+"I will never change my mind," said John confidently. It was evident,
+nevertheless, that if the romance of his life were left to the tender
+mercies of the Reverend Augustin Ambrose, it was likely to come to an
+abrupt termination. When the two returned to the society of Mrs. Ambrose,
+the vicar was still very much agitated and John was plunged in a gloomy
+melancholy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+The vicar's suspicions were more than realized and he passed an
+uncomfortable day after his interview with John, in debating what he
+ought to do, whether he ought to do anything at all, or whether he should
+merely hasten his old pupil's departure and leave matters to take care of
+themselves. He was a very conscientious man, and he felt that he was
+responsible for John's conduct towards Mrs. Goddard, seeing that she had
+put herself under his protection, and that John was almost like one of
+his family. His first impulse was to ask counsel of his wife, but he
+rejected the plan, reflecting with great justice that she was very fond
+of John and had at first not been sure of liking Mrs. Goddard; she would
+be capable of thinking that the latter had "led Short on," as she would
+probably say. The vicar did not believe this, and was therefore loath
+that any one else should. He felt that circumstances had made him Mrs.
+Goddard's protector, and he was moreover personally attached to her; he
+would not therefore do or say anything whereby she was likely to
+appear to any one else in an unfavourable light. It was incredible that
+she should have given John any real encouragement. Mr. Ambrose wondered
+whether he ought to warn her of his pupil's madness. But when he thought
+about that, it seemed unnecessary. It was unlikely that John would betray
+himself during his present visit, since the vicar had solemnly assured
+him that there was no possibility of a marriage so far as Mr. Juxon was
+concerned. It was undoubtedly a very uncomfortable situation but there
+was evidently nothing to be done; Mr. Ambrose felt that to speak to Mrs.
+Goddard would be to precipitate matters in a way which could not but
+cause much humiliation to John Short and much annoyance to herself. He
+accordingly held his peace, but his upper lip set itself stiffly and his
+eyes had a combative expression which told his wife that there was
+something the matter.
+
+After breakfast John went out, on pretence of walking in the garden, and
+Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were left alone. The latter, as usual after the
+morning meal, busied herself about the room, searching out those secret
+corners which she suspected Susan of having forgotten to dust. The vicar
+stood looking out of the window. The weather was grey and it seemed
+likely that there would be a thaw which would spoil the skating.
+
+"I think," said Mrs. Ambrose, "that John is far from well."
+
+"What makes you say that?" inquired the vicar, who was thinking of him at
+that very moment.
+
+"Anybody might see it. He has no appetite--he ate nothing at breakfast
+this morning. He looks pale. My dear, that boy will certainly break
+down."
+
+"I don't believe it," answered Mr. Ambrose still looking out of the
+window. His hands were in his pockets, thrusting the skirts of his
+clerical coat to right and left; he slowly raised himself upon his toes
+and let himself down again, repeating the operation as though it helped
+him to think.
+
+"That is the way you spoil all your coats, Augustin," said his wife
+looking at him from behind. "I assure you, my dear, that boy is not well.
+Poor fellow, all alone at college with nobody to look after him--"
+
+"We have all had to go through that. I do not think it hurts him a bit,"
+said the vicar, slowly removing his hands from his pockets in deference
+to his wife's suggestion.
+
+"Then what is it, I would like to know? There is certainly something the
+matter. Now I ask you whether he looks like himself?"
+
+"Perhaps he does look a little tired."
+
+"Tired! There is something on his mind, Augustin. I am positively certain
+there is something on his mind. Why won't you tell me?"
+
+"My dear--" began the vicar, and then stopped short. He was a very
+truthful man, and as he knew very well what was the matter with John he
+was embarrassed to find an answer. "My dear," he repeated, "I do not
+think he is ill."
+
+"Then I am right," retorted Mrs. Ambrose, triumphantly. "It is just as I
+thought, there is something on his mind. Don't deny it, Augustin; there
+is something on his mind."
+
+Mr. Ambrose was silent; he glared fiercely at the window panes.
+
+"Why don't you tell me?" insisted his better half. "I am quite sure you
+know all about it. Augustin, do you know, or do you not?"
+
+Thus directly questioned the vicar turned sharply round, sweeping the
+window with his coat tails.
+
+"My dear," he said, shortly, "I do know. Can you not imagine that it may
+be a matter which John does not care to have mentioned?"
+
+Mrs. Ambrose grew red with annoyance. She had set her heart on finding
+out what had disturbed John, and the vicar had apparently made up his
+mind that she should not succeed. Such occurrences were very rare between
+that happy couple.
+
+"I cannot believe he has done anything wrong," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+"Anything which need be concealed from me--the interest I have always
+taken--"
+
+"He has not done anything wrong," said the vicar impatiently. "I do wish
+you would drop the subject--"
+
+"Then why should it be concealed from me?" objected his wife with
+admirable logic. "If it is anything good he need not hide his light under
+a bushel, I should think."
+
+"There are plenty of things which are neither bad nor good," argued the
+vicar, who felt that if he could draw Mrs. Ambrose into a Socratic
+discussion he was safe.
+
+"That is a distinct prevarication, Augustin," said she severely. "I am
+surprised at you."
+
+"Not at all," retorted the vicar. "What has occurred to John is not owing
+to any fault of his." In his own mind the good man excused himself by
+saying that John could not have helped falling in love with Mrs. Goddard.
+But his wife turned quickly upon him.
+
+"That does not prevent what has occurred to him, as you call it, from
+being good, or more likely bad, to judge from his looks."
+
+"My dear," said Mr. Ambrose, driven to bay, "I entirely decline to
+discuss the point."
+
+"I thought you trusted me, Augustin."
+
+"So I do--certainly--and I always consult you about my own affairs."
+
+"I think I have as much right to know about John as you have," retorted
+his wife, who seemed deeply hurt.
+
+"That is a point then which you ought to settle with John," said the
+vicar. "I cannot betray his confidence, even to you."
+
+"Oh--then he has been making confidences to you?"
+
+"How in the world should I know about his affairs unless he told me?"
+
+"One may see a great many things without being told about them, you
+know," answered Mrs. Ambrose, assuming a prim expression as she examined
+a small spot in the tablecloth. The vicar was walking up and down the
+room. Her speech, which was made quite at random, startled him. She, too,
+might easily have observed John's manner when he was with Mrs. Goddard;
+she might have guessed the secret, and have put her own interpretation on
+John's sudden melancholy.
+
+"What may one see?" asked the vicar quickly.
+
+"I did not say one could see anything," answered his wife. "But from your
+manner I infer that there really is something to see. Wait a minute--what
+can it be?"
+
+"Nothing--my dear, nothing," said the vicar desperately.
+
+"Oh, Augustin, I know you so well," said the implacable Mrs. Ambrose. "I
+am quite sure now, that it is something I have seen. Deny it, my dear."
+
+The vicar was silent and bit his long upper lip as he marched up and down
+the room.
+
+"Of course--you cannot deny it," she continued. "It is perfectly clear.
+The very first day he arrived--when you came down from the Hall, in the
+evening--Augustin, I have got it! It is Mrs. Goddard--now don't tell me
+it is not. I am quite sure it is Mrs. Goddard. How stupid of me! Is it
+not Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"If you are so positive," said the vicar, resorting to a form of defence
+generally learned in the nursery, "why do you ask me?"
+
+"I insist upon knowing, Augustin, is it, or is it not, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"My dear, I positively refuse to answer any more questions," said the
+vicar with tardy firmness.
+
+"Oh, it is no matter," retorted Mrs. Ambrose in complete triumph, "if it
+were not Mrs. Goddard of course you would say so at once."
+
+A form of argument so unanswerable, that the vicar hastily left the room
+feeling that he had basely betrayed John's confidence, and muttering
+something about intolerable curiosity. Mrs. Ambrose had vanquished her
+husband, as she usually did on those rare occasions when anything
+approaching to a dispute arose between them. Having come to the
+conclusion that "it" was Mrs. Goddard, the remainder of the secret needed
+no discovery. It was plain that John must be in love with the tenant of
+the cottage, and it seemed likely that it would devolve upon Mrs. Ambrose
+to clear up the matter. She was very fond of John and her first
+impression was that Mrs. Goddard, whom she now again suspected of having
+foreign blood, had "led him on"--an impression which the vicar had
+anticipated when he rashly resolved not to tell his wife John's secret.
+She knew very well that the vicar must have told John his mind in regard
+to such an attachment, and she easily concluded that he must have done so
+on the previous evening when John called him into the study. But she had
+just won a victory over her husband, and she consequently felt that he
+was weak, probably too weak to save the situation, and it was borne in
+upon her that she ought to do something immediately. Unhappily she did
+not see quite clearly what was to be done. She might go straight to Mrs.
+Goddard and accuse her of having engaged John's affections; but the more
+she thought of that, the more diffident she grew in regard to the result
+of such an interview. Curiosity had led her to a certain point, but
+caution prevented her from going any further. Mrs. Ambrose was very
+cautious. The habit of living in a small place, feeling that all her
+actions were watched by the villagers and duly commented upon by them,
+had made her even more careful than she was by nature. It would be very
+unwise to bring about a scene with Mrs. Goddard unless she were very sure
+of the result. Mrs. Goddard was hardly a friend. In Mrs. Ambrose's
+opinion an acquaintance of two years and a half standing involving almost
+daily meetings and the constant exchange of civilities did not constitute
+friendship. Nevertheless the vicar's wife would have been ashamed to own
+that after such long continued intercourse she was wholly ignorant of
+Mrs. Goddard's real character; especially as the latter had requested the
+vicar to tell Mrs. Ambrose her story when she first appeared at
+Billingsfield. Moreover, as her excitement at the victory she had gained
+over her husband began to subside, she found herself reviewing mentally
+the events of the last few days. She remembered distinctly that John had
+perpetually pursued Mrs. Goddard, and that although the latter seemed to
+find him agreeable enough, she had never to Mrs. Ambrose's knowledge
+given him any of those open encouragements in the way of smiles and
+signals, which in the good lady's mind were classified under the term
+"flirting." Mrs. Ambrose's ideas of flirtation may have been antiquated;
+thirty years of Billingsfield in the society of the Reverend Augustin had
+not contributed to their extension; but, on the whole, they were just.
+Mrs. Goddard had not flirted with John. It is worthy of notice that in
+proportion as the difficulties she would enter upon by demanding an
+explanation from Mrs. Goddard seemed to grow in magnitude, she gradually
+arrived at the conclusion that it was John's fault. Half an hour ago, in
+the flush of triumph she had indignantly denied that anything could be
+John's fault. She now resolved to behave to him with great austerity.
+Such an occurrence as his falling in love could not be passed over with
+indifference. It seemed best that he should leave Billingsfield very
+soon.
+
+John thought so too. Existence would not be pleasant now that the vicar
+knew his secret, and he cursed the folly and curiosity which had led him
+to betray himself in order to find out whether Mr. Juxon thought of
+marrying Mrs. Goddard. He had now resolved to return to Cambridge at once
+and to work his hardest until the Tripos was over. He would then come
+back to Billingsfield and, with his honours fresh upon him and the
+prospect of immediate success before him, he would throw himself at Mrs.
+Goddard's feet. But of course he must have one farewell interview. Oh,
+those farewell interviews! Those leave-takings, wherein often so much is
+taken without leave!
+
+Accordingly at luncheon he solemnly announced his intention of leaving
+the vicarage on the morrow. Mrs. Ambrose received the news with an
+equanimity which made John suspicious, for she had heretofore constantly
+pressed him to extend his holiday, expressing the greatest solicitude for
+his health. She now sat stony as a statue and said very coldly that she
+was sorry he had to go so soon, but that, of course, it could not be
+helped. The vicar was moved by his wife's apparent indifference. John, he
+said, might at least have stayed till the end of the promised week; but
+at this suggestion Mrs. Ambrose darted at her husband a look so full of
+fierce meaning, that the vicar relapsed into silence, returning to the
+consideration of bread and cheese and a salad of mustard and cress. John
+saw the look and was puzzled; he did not believe the vicar capable of
+going straight to Mrs. Ambrose with the story of the last night's
+interview. But he was already so much disturbed that he did not attempt
+to explain to himself what was happening.
+
+But when lunch was over, and he realised that he had declared his
+intention of leaving Billingsfield on the next day, he saw that if he
+meant to see Mrs. Goddard before he left he must go to her at once. He
+therefore waited until he heard Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose talking together in
+the sitting-room and then slipped quietly out by the garden to the road.
+
+He had no idea what he should say when he met Mrs. Goddard. He meant, of
+course, to let her understand, or at least suppose, that he was leaving
+suddenly on her account, but he did not know in the least how to
+accomplish it. He trusted that the words necessary to him would come into
+his head spontaneously. His heart beat fast and he was conscious that he
+blushed as he rang the bell of the cottage. Almost before he knew where
+he was, he found himself ushered into the little drawing-room and in the
+presence of the woman he now felt sure that he loved. But to his great
+annoyance she was not alone; Nellie was with her. Mrs. Goddard sat near
+the fire, reading a review; Nellie was curled up in a corner of the deep
+sofa with a book, her thick brown curls falling all over her face and
+hands as she read. Mrs. Goddard extended her hand, without rising.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Short?" she said. The young man stood hat in hand in
+the middle of the room, feeling very nervous. It was strange that he
+should experience any embarrassment now, considering how many hours he
+had spent in her company during the last few days. He blushed and
+stammered.
+
+"How do you do? I, in fact--I have come to say good-bye," he blurted out.
+
+"So soon?" said Mrs. Goddard calmly. "Pray sit down."
+
+"Are you really going away, Mr. Short?" asked Nellie. "We are so sorry to
+lose you." The child had caught the phrase from a book she had been
+reading, and thought it very appropriate. Her mother smiled.
+
+"Yes--as Nellie says--we are sorry to lose you," she said. "I thought you
+were to stay until Monday?"
+
+"So I was--but--very urgent business--not exactly business of course, but
+work--calls me away sooner." Having delivered himself of this masterpiece
+of explanation John looked nervously at Nellie and then at his hat and
+then, with an imploring glance, at Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"But we shall hear of you, Mr. Short--after the examinations, shall we
+not?"
+
+"Oh yes," said John eagerly. "I will come down as soon as the lists are
+out."
+
+"You have my best wishes, you know," said Mrs. Goddard kindly. "I feel
+quite sure that you will really be senior classic."
+
+"Mamma is always saying that--it is quite true," explained Nellie.
+
+John blushed again and looked gratefully at Mrs. Goddard. He wished
+Nellie would go away, but there was not the least chance of that.
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Goddard, "I often say it. We all take a great interest
+in your success here."
+
+"You are very kind," murmured John. "Of course I shall come down at once
+and tell you all about it, if I succeed. I do not really expect to be
+first, of course. I shall be satisfied if I get a place in the first ten.
+But I mean to do my best."
+
+"No one can do more," said Mrs. Goddard, leaning back in her chair and
+looking into the fire. Her face was quiet, but not sad as it sometimes
+was. There was a long silence which John did not know how to break.
+Nellie sat upon a carved chair by the side of the fireplace dangling her
+legs and looking at her toes, turning them alternately in and out. She
+wished John would go for she wanted to get back to her book, but had been
+told it was not good manners to read when there were visitors. John
+looked at Mrs. Goddard's face and was about to speak, and then changed
+his mind and grew red and said nothing. Had she noticed his shyness she
+would have made an effort at conversation, but she was absent-minded
+to-day, and was thinking of something else. Suddenly she started and
+laughed a little.
+
+"I beg your pardon," she said. "What were you saying, Mr. Short?" Had
+John been saying anything he would have repeated it, but being thus
+interrogated he grew doubly embarrassed.
+
+"I--I have not much to say--except good-bye," he answered.
+
+"Oh, don't go yet," said Mrs. Goddard. "You are not going this afternoon?
+It is always so unpleasant to say good-bye, is it not?"
+
+"Dreadfully," answered John. "I would rather say anything else in the
+world. No; I am going early to-morrow morning. There is no help for it,"
+he added desperately. "I must go, you know."
+
+"The next time you come, you will be able to stay much longer," said Mrs.
+Goddard in an encouraging way. "You will have no more terms, then."
+
+"No indeed--nothing but to take my degree."
+
+"And what will you do then? You said the other day that you thought
+seriously of going into the church."
+
+"Oh mamma," interrupted Nellie suddenly looking up, "fancy Mr. Short in a
+black gown, preaching like Mr. Ambrose! How perfectly ridiculous he would
+look!"
+
+"Nellie--Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard, "do not talk nonsense. It is
+very rude to say Mr. Short would look ridiculous."
+
+"I didn't mean to be rude, mamma," returned Nellie, blushing scarlet and
+pouting her lips, "only it would be very funny, wouldn't it?"
+
+"I daresay it would," said John, relieved by the interruption. "I wish
+you would advise me what to do, Mrs. Goddard," he added in a confidential
+tone.
+
+"I?" she exclaimed, and then laughed. "How should I be able to advise
+you?"
+
+"I am sure you could," said John, insisting. "You have such wonderfully
+good judgment--"
+
+"Have I? I did not know it. But, tell me, if you come out very high are
+you not sure of getting a fellowship?"
+
+"It is likely," answered John indifferently. "But I should have to give
+it up if I married--"
+
+"Surely, Mr. Short," cried Mrs. Goddard, with a laugh that cut him to the
+quick, "you do not think of marrying for many years to come?"
+
+"Oh--I don't know," he said, blushing violently, "why should not I?"
+
+"In the first place, a man should never marry until he is at least five
+and twenty years old," said Mrs. Goddard, calmly.
+
+"Well--I may be as old as that before I get the fellowship."
+
+"Yes, I daresay. But even then, why should you want to resign a handsome
+independence as soon as you have got it? Is there anything else so good
+within your reach?"
+
+"There is the church, of course," said John. "But Miss Nellie seems to
+think that ridiculous--"
+
+"Never mind Nellie," answered Mrs. Goddard. "Seriously, Mr. Short, do you
+approve of entering the church merely as a profession, a means of earning
+money?"
+
+"Well--no--I did not put it in that way. But many people do."
+
+"That does not prove that it is either wise or decent," said Mrs.
+Goddard. "If you felt impelled to take orders from other motives, it
+would be different. As I understand you, you are choosing a profession
+for the sake of becoming independent."
+
+"Certainly," said John.
+
+"Well, then, there is nothing better for you to do than to get a
+fellowship and hold it as long as you can, and during that time you can
+make up your mind." She spoke with conviction, and the plan seemed good.
+"But I cannot imagine," she continued, "why you should ask my advice."
+
+"And not to marry?" inquired John nervously.
+
+"There is plenty of time to think of that when you are thirty--even five
+and thirty is not too late."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed John, "I think that is much too old!"
+
+"Do you call me old?" asked Mrs. Goddard serenely. "I was thirty-one on
+my last birthday."
+
+For the twentieth time, John felt himself growing uncomfortably hot. Not
+only had he said an unconscionably stupid thing, but Mrs. Goddard, after
+advising him not to marry for ten years, had almost hinted that she might
+meanwhile be married herself. What else could she mean by the remark? But
+John was hardly a responsible being on that day. His views of life and
+his understanding were equally disturbed.
+
+"No indeed," he protested on hearing her confession of age. "No
+indeed--why, you are the youngest person I ever saw, of course. But with
+men--it is quite different."
+
+"Is it? I always thought women were supposed to grow old faster than men.
+That is the reason why women always marry men so much older than
+themselves."
+
+"Oh--in that case--I have nothing more to say," replied John in very
+indistinct tones. The perspiration was standing upon his forehead; the
+room swam with him and he felt a terrible, prickly sensation all over his
+body.
+
+"Mamma, shan't I open the door? Mr. Short is so very hot," said Nellie
+looking at him in some astonishment. At that moment John felt as though
+he could have eaten little Nellie, long legs, ringlets and all, with
+infinite satisfaction. He rose suddenly to his feet.
+
+"The fact is--it is late--I must really be saying good-bye," he
+stammered.
+
+"Must you?" said Mrs. Goddard, suspecting that something was the matter.
+"Well, I am very sorry to say good-bye. But you will be coming back soon,
+will you not?"
+
+"Yes--I don't know--perhaps I shall not come back at all. Good-bye--Mrs.
+Goddard--good-bye, Miss Nellie."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Short," said Mrs. Goddard, looking at him with some
+anxiety. "You are not ill? What is the matter?"
+
+"Oh dear no, nothing," answered John with an unnatural laugh. "No thank
+you--good-bye."
+
+He managed to get out of the door and rushed down to the road. The cold
+air steadied his nerves. He felt better. With a sudden revulsion of
+feeling, he began to utter inward imprecations against his folly, against
+the house he had just left, against everybody and everything in general,
+not forgetting poor little Nellie.
+
+"If ever I cross that threshold again--" he muttered with tragic
+emphasis. His face was still red, and he swung his stick ferociously
+as he strode towards the vicarage. Several little boys in ragged
+smock-frocks saw him and thought he had had some beer, even as their own
+fathers, and made vulgar gestures when his back was turned.
+
+So poor John packed his portmanteau and left the vicarage early on the
+following morning. He sent an excuse to Mr. Juxon explaining that the
+urgency of his work called him back sooner than he had expected, and when
+the train moved fairly off towards Cambridge he felt that in being spared
+the ordeal of shaking hands with his rival he had at least escaped some
+of the bitterness of his fate; as he rolled along he thought very sadly
+of all that had happened in that short time which was to have been so gay
+and which had come to such a miserable end.
+
+Reflecting calmly upon his last interview with Mrs. Goddard, he was
+surprised to find that his memory failed him. He could not recall
+anything which could satisfactorily account for the terrible
+disappointment and distress he had felt. She had only said that she was
+thirty-one years old, precisely as the vicar had stated on the previous
+evening, and she had advised him not to marry for some years to come. But
+she had laughed, and his feelings had been deeply wounded--he could not
+tell precisely at what point in the conversation, but he was quite
+certain that she had laughed, and oh! that terrible Nellie! It was very
+bitter, and John felt that the best part of his life was lived out. He
+went back to his books with a dark and melancholy tenacity of purpose,
+flavoured by a hope that he might come to some sudden and awful end in
+the course of the next fortnight, thereby causing untold grief and
+consternation to the hard-hearted woman he had loved. But before the
+fortnight had expired he found to his surprise that he was intensely
+interested in his work, and once or twice he caught himself wondering how
+Mrs. Goddard would look when he went back to Billingsfield and told her
+he had come out at the head of the classical Tripos--though, of course,
+he had no intention of going there, nor of ever seeing her again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Mr. Juxon was relieved to hear that John Short had suddenly gone back to
+Cambridge. He had indeed meant to like him from the first and had
+behaved towards him with kindness and hospitality; but while ready to
+admire his good qualities and to take a proper amount of interest in his
+approaching contest for honours, he had found him a troublesome person to
+deal with and, in his own words, a nuisance. Matters had come to a climax
+after the tea at the cottage, when the squire had so completely
+vanquished him, but since that evening the two had not met.
+
+The opposition which John brought to bear against Mr. Juxon was not,
+however, without its effect. The squire was in that state of mind in
+which a little additional pressure sufficed to sway his resolutions.
+It has been seen that he had for some time regarded Mrs. Goddard's
+society as an indispensable element in his daily life; he had been so
+much astonished at discovering this that he had absented himself for
+several days and had finally returned ready to submit to his fate, in so
+far as his fate required that he should see Mrs. Goddard every day.
+Shortly afterwards John had appeared and by his persistent attempts to
+monopolise Mrs. Goddard's conversation had again caused an interruption
+in the squire's habits, which the latter had resented with characteristic
+firmness. The very fact of having resisted John had strengthened and
+given a new tone to Mr. Juxon's feelings towards his tenant. He began to
+watch the hands of the clock with more impatience than formerly when,
+after breakfast, he sat reading the papers before the library fire,
+waiting for the hour when he was accustomed to go down to the cottage.
+His interest in the papers decreased as his interest in the time of day
+grew stronger, and for the first time in his life he found to his great
+surprise that after reading the news of the day with the greatest care,
+he was often quite unable to remember a word of what he had read. Then,
+at first, he would be angry with himself and would impose upon himself
+the task of reading the paper again before going to the cottage. But very
+soon he found that he had to read it twice almost every day, and this
+seemed such an unreasonable waste of time that he gave it up, and fell
+into very unsystematic habits.
+
+For some days, as though by mutual consent, neither Mrs. Goddard nor the
+squire spoke of John Short. The squire was glad he was gone and hoped
+that he would not come back, but was too kind-hearted to say so; Mrs.
+Goddard instinctively understood Mr. Juxon's state of mind and did not
+disturb his equanimity by broaching an unpleasant subject. Several days
+passed by after John had gone and he would certainly not have been
+flattered had he known that during that time two, out of the four persons
+he had met so often in his short holiday, had never so much as mentioned
+him.
+
+One afternoon in January the squire found himself alone with Mrs.
+Goddard. It was a great exception, and she herself doubted whether she
+were wise to receive him when she had not Nellie with her. Nellie had
+gone to the vicarage to help Mrs. Ambrose with some work she had in hand
+for her poor people, but Mrs. Goddard had a slight headache and had
+stayed at home in consequence. The weather was very bad; heavy clouds
+were driving overhead and the north-east wind howled and screamed through
+the leafless oaks of the park, driving a fine sleet against the cottage
+windows and making the dead creepers rattle against the wall. It was a
+bitter January day, and Mrs. Goddard felt how pleasant a thing it was to
+stay at home with a book beside her blazing fire. She was all alone, and
+Nellie would not be back before four o'clock. Suddenly a well-known step
+echoed upon the slate flags without and there was a ring at the bell.
+Mrs. Goddard had hardly time to think what she should do, as she laid her
+book upon her knee and looked nervously over her shoulder towards the
+door. It was awkward, she thought, but it could not be helped. In such
+weather it seemed absurd to send the squire away because her little girl
+was not with her. He had come all the way down from the Hall to spend
+this dreary afternoon at the cottage--she could not send him away. There
+were sounds in the passage as of some one depositing a waterproof coat
+and an umbrella, the door opened and Mr. Juxon appeared upon the
+threshold.
+
+"Come in," said Mrs. Goddard, banishing her scruples as soon as she saw
+him. "I am all alone," she added rather apologetically. The squire, who
+was a simple man in many ways, understood the remark and felt slightly
+embarrassed.
+
+"Is Miss Nellie out?" he asked, coming forward and taking Mrs. Goddard's
+hand. He had not yet reached the point of calling the child plain
+"Nellie;" he would have thought it an undue familiarity.
+
+"She is gone to the vicarage," answered Mrs. Goddard. "What a dreadful
+day! You must be nearly frozen. Will you have a cup of tea?"
+
+"No thanks--no, you are very kind. I have had a good walk; I am not
+cold--never am. As you say, in such weather I could not resist the
+temptation to come in. This is a capital day to test that India-rubber
+tubing we have put round your windows. Excuse me--I will just look and
+see if the air comes through."
+
+Mr. Juxon carefully examined the windows of the sitting-room and then
+returned to his seat.
+
+"It is quite air-tight, I think," he said with some satisfaction, as he
+smoothed his hair with his hand.
+
+"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Goddard. "It was so very good of you."
+
+"Not a bit of it," returned the squire cheerily. "A landlord's chief
+pre-occupation ought to be the comfort of his tenants and his next
+thought should be to keep his houses in repair. I never owned any
+houses before, so I have determined to start with good principles."
+
+"I am sure you succeed. You walked down?"
+
+"Always walk, in any weather. It is much less trouble and much cheaper.
+Besides, I like it."
+
+"The best of all reasons. Then you will not have any tea? I almost wish
+you would, because I want some myself."
+
+"Oh of course--in that case I shall be delighted. Shall I ring?"
+
+He rang and Martha brought the tea. Some time was consumed in the
+preparations which Mr. Juxon watched with interest as though he had never
+seen tea made before. Everything that Mrs. Goddard did interested him.
+
+"I do not know why it is," she said at last, "but weather like this is
+delightful when one is safe at home. I suppose it is the contrast--"
+
+"Yes indeed. It is like the watch below in dirty-weather."
+
+"Excuse me--I don't quite understand--"
+
+"At sea," explained the squire. "There is no luxury like being below when
+the decks are wet and there is heavy weather about."
+
+"I should think so," said Mrs. Goddard. "Have you been at sea much, Mr.
+Juxon?"
+
+"Thirty years," returned the squire laconically. Mrs. Goddard looked at
+him in astonishment.
+
+"You don't mean to say you have been a sailor all your life?"
+
+"Does that surprise you? I have been a sailor since I was twelve years
+old. But I got very tired of it. It is a hard life."
+
+"Were you in the navy, Mr. Juxon?" asked Mrs. Goddard eagerly, feeling
+that she was at last upon the track of some information in regard to his
+past life.
+
+"Yes--I was in the navy," answered the squire, slowly. "And then I was at
+college, and then in the navy again. At last I entered the merchant
+service and commanded my own ships for nearly twenty years."
+
+"How very extraordinary! Why then, you must have been everywhere."
+
+"Very nearly. But I would much rather be in Billingsfield."
+
+"You never told me," said Mrs. Goddard almost reproachfully. "What a
+change it must have been for you, from the sea to the life of a country
+gentleman!"
+
+"It is what I always wanted."
+
+"But you do not seem at all like the sea captains one hears about--"
+
+"Well, perhaps not," replied the squire thoughtfully. "There are a great
+many different classes of sea captains. I always had a taste for books. A
+man can read a great deal on a long voyage. I have sometimes been at sea
+for more than two years at a time. Besides, I had a fairly good education
+and--well, I suppose it was because I was a gentleman to begin with and
+was more than ten years in the Royal Navy. All that makes a great
+difference. Have you ever made a long voyage, Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+"I have crossed the channel," said she. "But I wish you would tell me
+something more about your life."
+
+"Oh no--it is very dull, all that. You always make me talk about myself,"
+said the squire in a tone of protestation.
+
+"It is very interesting."
+
+"But--could we not vary the conversation by talking about you a little?"
+suggested Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Oh no! Please--" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard rather nervously. She grew pale
+and busied herself again with the tea. "Do tell me more about your
+voyages. I suppose that was the way you collected so many beautiful
+things, was it not?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," answered the squire, looking at her curiously. "In
+fact of course it was. I was a great deal in China and South America and
+India, and in all sorts of places where one picks up things."
+
+"And in Turkey, too, where you got Stamboul?"
+
+"Yes. He was so wet that I left him outside to day. Did not want to spoil
+your carpet."
+
+The squire had a way of turning the subject when he seemed upon the point
+of talking about himself which was very annoying to Mrs. Goddard. But she
+had not entirely recovered her equanimity and for the moment had lost
+control of the squire. Besides she had a headache that day.
+
+"Stamboul does not get the benefit of the contrast we were talking about
+at first," she remarked, in order to say something.
+
+"I could not possibly bring him in," returned the squire looking at her
+again. "Excuse me, Mrs. Goddard--I don't mean to be inquisitive you know,
+but--I always want to be of any use."
+
+She looked at him inquiringly.
+
+"I mean, to be frank, I am afraid that something is giving you trouble. I
+have noticed it for some time. You know, if I can be of any use, if I can
+help you in any way--you have only to say the word."
+
+Again she looked at him. She did not know why it was so, but the
+genuinely friendly tone in which he made the offer touched her. She was
+surprised, however; she could not understand why he should think she was
+in trouble, and indeed she was in no greater distress than she had
+suffered during the greater part of the last three years.
+
+"You are very kind, Mr. Juxon. But there is nothing the matter--I have a
+headache."
+
+"Oh," said the squire, "I beg your pardon." He looked away and seemed
+embarrassed.
+
+"You have done too much already," said Mrs. Goddard, fearing that she had
+not sufficiently acknowledged his offer of assistance.
+
+"I cannot do too much. That is impossible," he said in a tone of
+conviction. "I have very few friends, Mrs. Goddard, and I like to think
+that you are one of the best of them."
+
+"I am sure--I don't know what to say, Mr. Juxon," she answered, somewhat
+startled by the directness of his speech. "I am sure you have always been
+most kind, and I hope you do not think me ungrateful."
+
+"I? You? No--dear me, please never mention it! The fact is, Mrs.
+Goddard--" he stopped and smoothed Ms hair. "What particularly
+disagreeable weather," he remarked irrelevantly, looking out of the
+window at the driving sleet.
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked down and slowly stirred her tea. She was pale and her
+hand trembled a little, but no one could have guessed that she was
+suffering any strong emotion. Mr. Juxon looked towards the window, and
+the grey light of the winter's afternoon fell coldly upon his square
+sunburned face and carefully trimmed beard. He was silent for a moment,
+and then, still looking away from his companion, he continued in a less
+hesitating tone.
+
+"The fact is, I have been thinking a great deal of late," he said, "and
+it has struck me that your friendship has grown to be the most important
+thing in my life." He paused again and turned his hat round upon his
+knee. Still Mrs. Goddard said nothing, and as he did not look at her he
+did not perceive that she was unnaturally agitated.
+
+"I have told you what my life has been," he continued presently. "I have
+been a sailor. I made a little money. I finally inherited my uncle's
+estate here. I will tell you anything else you would like to ask--I don't
+think I ever did anything to conceal. I am forty-two years old. I have
+about five thousand a year and I am naturally economical. I would like to
+make you a proposal--a very respectful proposal, Mrs. Goddard--"
+
+Mrs. Goddard uttered a faint exclamation of surprise and fell back in her
+chair, staring with wide eyes at the squire, her cheeks very pale and her
+lips white. He was too much absorbed in what he was saying to notice the
+short smothered ejaculation, and he was too much embarrassed to look at
+her.
+
+"Mrs. Goddard," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "will you marry
+me?"
+
+He was not prepared for the result of his speech. He had pondered it for
+some time and had come to the conclusion that it was best to say as
+little as possible and to say it plainly. It was an honourable proposal
+of marriage from a man in middle life to a lady he had known and
+respected for many months; there was very little romance about it; he did
+not intend that there should be any. As soon as he had spoken he turned
+his head and looked to her for his answer. Mrs. Goddard had clasped her
+small white hands over her face and had turned her head away from him
+against the cushion of the high backed chair. The squire felt very
+uncomfortable in the dead silence, broken only by the sleet driving
+against the window panes with a hissing, rattling sound, and by the
+singing of the tea-kettle. For some seconds, which to Juxon seemed like
+an eternity, Mrs. Goddard did not move. At last she suddenly dropped
+her hands and looked into the squire's eyes. He was startled by the ashen
+hue of her face.
+
+"It is impossible," she said, shortly, in broken tones. But the squire
+was prepared for some difficulties.
+
+"I do not see the impossibility," he said quite calmly. "Of course,
+I would not press you for an answer, my dear Mrs. Goddard. I am afraid
+I have been very abrupt, but I will go away, I will leave you to
+consider--"
+
+"Oh no, no!" cried the poor lady in great distress. "It is quite
+impossible--I assure you it is quite, quite impossible!"
+
+"I don't know," said Mr. Juxon, who saw that she was deeply moved, but
+was loath to abandon the field without a further struggle. "I am not a
+very young man, it is true--but I am not a very old one either. You, my
+dear Mrs. Goddard, have been a widow for some years--"
+
+"I?" cried Mrs. Goddard with a wild hysterical laugh. "I! Oh God of
+mercy! I wish I were." Again she buried her face in the cushion. Her
+bosom heaved violently.
+
+The squire started as though he had been struck, and the blood rushed to
+his brown face so that the great veins on his temples stood out like
+cords.
+
+"Did I--did I understand you to say that--your husband is living?" he
+asked in a strong, loud voice, ringing with emotion.
+
+Mrs. Goddard moved a little and seemed to make a great effort to speak.
+
+"Yes," she said very faintly. The squire rose to his feet and paced the
+room in terrible agitation.
+
+"But where?" he asked, stopping suddenly in his walk. "Mrs. Goddard, I
+think I have a right to ask where he is--why you have never spoken of
+him?"
+
+By a supreme effort the unfortunate lady raised herself from her seat
+supporting herself upon one hand, and faced the squire with wildly
+staring eyes.
+
+"You have a right to know," she said. "He is in Portland--sentenced to
+twelve years hard labour for forgery."
+
+She said it all, to the end, and then fell back into her chair. But she
+did not hide her face this time. The fair pathetic features were quite
+motionless and white, without any expression, and her hands lay with the
+palms turned upwards on her knees.
+
+Charles James Juxon was a man of few words, not given to using strong
+language on any occasion. But he was completely overcome by the horror of
+the thing. He turned icy cold as he stood still, rooted to the spot, and
+he uttered aloud one strong and solemn ejaculation, more an invocation
+than an oath, as though he called on heaven to witness the misery he
+looked upon. He gazed at the colourless, inanimate face of the poor lady
+and walked slowly to the window. There he stood for fully five minutes,
+motionless, staring out at the driving sleet.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had fainted away, but it did not occur to the squire to
+attempt to recall her to her senses. It seemed merciful that she should
+have lost consciousness even for a moment. Indeed she needed no help, for
+in a few minutes she slowly opened her eyes and closed them, then opened
+them again and saw Mr. Juxon's figure darkening the window against the
+grey light.
+
+"Mr. Juxon," she said faintly, "come here, please."
+
+The squire started and turned. Then he came and sat down beside her. His
+face was very stern and grave, and he said nothing.
+
+"Mr. Juxon," said Mrs. Goddard, speaking in a low voice, but with far
+more calm than he could have expected, "you have a right to know my
+story. You have been very kind to me, you have made an honourable offer
+to me, you have said you were my friend. I ought to have told you before.
+If I had had any idea of what was passing in your mind, I would have told
+you, cost what it might."
+
+Mr. Juxon gravely bowed his head. She was quite right, he thought. He had
+a right to know all. With all his kind-heartedness he was a stern man by
+nature.
+
+"Yes," continued Mrs. Goddard, "you have every right to know. My
+husband," her voice trembled, "was the head of an important firm in
+London. I was the only child of his partner. Not long after my father's
+death I married Mr. Goddard. He was an extravagant man of brilliant
+tastes. I had a small fortune of my own which my father had settled upon
+me, independent of his share in the firm. My guardians, of whom my
+husband was one, advised me to leave my father's fortune in the concern.
+When I came of age, a year after my marriage, I agreed to do it. My
+husband--I never knew it till long afterwards--was very rash. He
+speculated on the Exchange and tampered with the deposits placed in his
+hands. We lived in great luxury. I knew nothing of his affairs. Three
+years ago, after we had been married nearly ten years, the firm failed.
+It was a fraudulent bankruptcy. My husband fled but was captured and
+brought back. It appeared that at the last moment, in the hope of
+retrieving his position and saving the firm, he had forged the name of
+one of his own clients for a large amount. We had a country place at
+Putney which he had given to me. I sold it, with all my jewels and most
+of my possessions. I would have given up everything I possessed, but I
+thought of Nellie--poor little Nellie. The lawyers assured me that I
+ought to keep my own little fortune. I kept about five hundred a year. It
+is more than I need, but it seemed very little then. The lawyer who
+conducted the defence, such as it was, advised me to go abroad, but I
+would not. Then he spoke of Mr. Ambrose, who had educated his son, and
+gave me a note to him. I came here and I told Mr. Ambrose my whole story.
+I only wanted to be alone--I thought I did right--"
+
+Her courage had sustained her so far, but it had been a great effort. Her
+voice trembled and broke and at last the tears began to glisten in her
+eyes.
+
+"Does Nellie know?" asked the squire, who had sat very gravely by her
+side, but who was in reality deeply moved.
+
+"No--she thinks he--that he is dead," faltered Mrs. Goddard. Then she
+fairly burst into tears and sobbed passionately, covering her face and
+rocking herself from side to side.
+
+"My dear friend," said Mr. Juxon very kindly and laying one hand upon her
+arm, "pray try and calm yourself. Forgive me--I beg you to forgive me for
+having caused you so much pain--"
+
+"Do you still call me a friend?" sobbed the poor lady.
+
+"Indeed I do," quoth the squire stoutly. And he meant it. Mrs. Goddard
+dropped her hands and stared into the fire through her falling tears.
+
+"I think you behaved very honourably--very generously," continued Mr.
+Juxon, who did not know precisely how to console her, and indeed stood
+much in need of consolation himself. "Perhaps I had better leave you--you
+are very much agitated--you must need rest--would you not rather that I
+should go?"
+
+"Yes--it is better," said she, still staring at the fire. "You know all
+about me now," she added in a tone of pathetic regret. The squire rose to
+his feet.
+
+"I hope," he said with some hesitation, "that this--this very unfortunate
+day will not prevent our being friends--better friends than before?"
+
+Mrs. Goddard looked up gratefully through her tears.
+
+"How good you are!" she said softly.
+
+"Not at all--I am not at all good--I only want to be your friend.
+Good-bye--G--God bless you!" He seized her hand and squeezed it and then
+hurried out of the room. A moment later he was crossing the road with
+Stamboul, who was very tired of waiting, bounding before him.
+
+The squire was not a romantic character. He was a strong plain man, who
+had seen the world and was used to most forms of danger and to a good
+many forms of suffering. He was kind-hearted and generous, capable of
+feeling sincere sympathy for others, and under certain circumstances of
+being deeply wounded himself. He had indeed a far more refined nature
+than he himself suspected and on this memorable day he had experienced
+more emotions than he remembered to have felt in the course of many
+years.
+
+After long debate and after much searching inquiry into his own motives
+he had determined to offer himself to Mrs. Goddard, and he had
+accordingly done so in his own straightforward manner. It had seemed
+a very important action in his life, a very solemn step, but he was not
+prepared for the acute sense of disappointment which he felt when Mrs.
+Goddard first said it was impossible for her to accept him, still less
+had he anticipated the extraordinary story which she had told him, in
+explanation of her refusal. His ideas were completely upset. That Mrs.
+Goddard was not a widow after all, was almost as astounding as that she
+should prove to be the wife of a felon. But Mr. Juxon was no less
+persuaded that she herself was a perfectly good and noble woman, than he
+had been before. He felt that he would like to cut the throat of the
+villain himself; but he resolved that he would more than ever try to be a
+good friend to Mrs. Goddard.
+
+He walked slowly through the storm towards his house, his broad figure
+facing the wind and sleet with as much ease as a steamer forging against
+a head sea. He was perfectly indifferent to the weather; but Stamboul
+slunk along at his heels, shielding himself from the driving wet snow
+behind his master's sturdy legs. The squire was very much disturbed. The
+sight of his own solemn butler affected him strangely. He stared about
+the library in a vacant way, as though he had never seen the place
+before. The realisation of his own calm and luxurious life seemed
+unnatural, and his thoughts went back to the poor weeping woman he had
+just left. She, too, had enjoyed all this, and more also. She had
+probably been richer than he. And now she was living on five hundred a
+year in one of his own cottages, hiding her shame in desolate
+Billingsfield, the shame of her husband, the forger.
+
+It was such a hopeless position, the squire thought. No one could help
+her, no one could do anything for her. For many weeks, revolving the
+situation in his mind, he had amused himself by thinking how she would
+look when she should be mistress of the Hall, and wondering whether
+little Nellie would call him "father," or merely "Mr. Juxon." And now,
+she turned out to be the wife of a forger, sentenced to hard labour in a
+convict prison, for twelve years. For twelve years--nearly three must
+have elapsed already. In nine years more Goddard would be out again.
+Would he claim his wife? Of course--he would come back to her for
+support. And poor little Nellie thought he was dead! It would be a
+terrible day when she had to be told. If he only would die in
+prison!--but men sentenced to hard labour rarely die. They are well cared
+for. It is a healthy life. He would certainly live through it and come
+back to claim his wife. Poor Mrs. Goddard! her troubles were not ended
+yet, though the State had provided her with a respite of twelve years.
+
+The squire sat long in his easy-chair in the great library, and forgot to
+dress for dinner--he always dressed, even though he was quite alone. But
+the solemn face of his butler betrayed neither emotion nor surprise when
+the master of the Hall walked into the dining-room in his knickerbockers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+When Nellie came home from the vicarage she found her mother looking very
+ill. There were dark rings under her eyes, and her features were drawn
+and tear-stained, while the beautiful waves of her brown hair had lost
+their habitual neatness and symmetry. The child noticed these things,
+with a child's quickness, but explained them on the ground that her
+mother's headache was probably much worse. Mrs. Goddard accepted the
+explanation and on the following day Nellie had forgotten all about it;
+but her mother remembered it long, and it was many days before she
+recovered entirely from the shock of her interview with the squire. The
+latter did not come to see her as usual, but on the morning after his
+visit he sent her down a package of books and some orchids from his
+hothouses. He thought it best to leave her to herself for a little while;
+the very sight of him, he argued, would be painful to her, and any
+meeting with her would be painful to himself. He did not go out of the
+house, but spent the whole day in his library among his books, not indeed
+reading, but pretending to himself that he was very busy. Being a strong
+and sensible man he did not waste time in bemoaning his sorrows, but he
+thought about them long and earnestly. The more he thought, the more it
+appeared to him that Mrs. Goddard was the person who deserved pity rather
+than he himself. His mind dwelt on the terrors of her position in case
+her husband should return and claim his wife and daughter when the twelve
+years were over, and he thought with horror of Nellie's humiliation, if
+at the age of twenty she should discover that her father during all these
+years had not been honourably dead and buried, but had been suffering the
+punishment of a felon in Portland. That the only attempt he had ever made
+to enter the matrimonial state should have been so singularly unfortunate
+was indeed a matter which caused him sincere sorrow; he had thought too
+often of being married to Mary Goddard to be able to give up the idea
+without a sigh. But it is due to him to say that in the midst of his own
+disappointment he thought much more of her sorrows than of his own, a
+state of mind most probably due to his temperament.
+
+He saw also how impossible it was to console Mrs. Goddard or even to
+alleviate the distress of mind which she must constantly feel. Her
+destiny was accomplished in part, and the remainder seemed absolutely
+inevitable. No one could prevent her husband from leaving his prison when
+his crime was expiated; and no one could then prevent him from joining
+his wife and ending his life under her roof. At least so it seemed.
+Endless complications would follow. Mrs. Goddard would certainly have to
+leave Billingsfield--no one could expect the Ambroses or the squire
+himself to associate with a convict forger. Mr. Juxon vaguely wondered
+whether he should live another nine years to see the end of all this, and
+he inwardly determined to go to sea again rather than to witness such
+misery. He could not see, no one could see how things could possibly turn
+out in any other way. It would have been some comfort to have gone to the
+vicar, and to have discussed with him the possibilities of Mrs. Goddard's
+future. The vicar was a man after his own heart, honest, reliable,
+charitable and brave; but Mr. Juxon thought that it would not be quite
+loyal towards Mrs. Goddard if he let any one else know that he was
+acquainted with her story.
+
+For two days he stayed at home and then he went to see her. To his
+surprise she received him very quietly, much as she usually did, without
+betraying any emotion; whereupon he wished that he had not allowed two
+days to pass without making his usual visit. Mrs. Goddard almost wished
+so too. She had been so much accustomed to regard the squire as a friend,
+and she had so long been used to the thought that Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose
+knew of her past trouble, that the fact of the squire becoming acquainted
+with her history seemed to her less important, now that it was
+accomplished, than it seemed to the squire himself. She had long thought
+of telling him all; she had seriously contemplated doing so when he first
+came to Billingsfield, and now at last the thing was done. She was glad
+of it. She was no longer in a false position; he could never again think
+of marrying her; they could henceforth meet as friends, since he was so
+magnanimous as to allow their friendship to exist. Her pride had suffered
+so terribly in the beginning that it was past suffering now. She felt
+that she was in the position of a suppliant asking only for a quiet
+resting-place for herself and her daughter, and she was grateful to the
+people who gave her what she asked, feeling that she had fallen among
+good Samaritans, whereas in merry England it would have been easy for her
+to have fallen among priests and Pharisees.
+
+So it came about that in a few days her relations with Mr. Juxon were
+re-established upon a new basis, but more firmly and satisfactorily than
+before, seeing that now there was no possibility of mistake. And for a
+long time it seemed as though matters would go on as before. Neither Mrs.
+Goddard nor the squire ever referred to the interview on that memorable
+stormy afternoon, and so far as the squire could judge his life and hers
+might go on with perfect tranquillity until it should please the powers
+that be and the governor of Portland to set Mr. Walter Goddard at
+liberty. Heaven only knew what would happen then, but it was provided
+that there should be plenty of time to prepare for anything which might
+ensue. The point upon which Mrs. Goddard had not spoken plainly was that
+which concerned her probable treatment of her husband after his
+liberation. She had passed that question over in silence. She had
+probably never dared to decide. Most probably she would at the last
+minute seek some safer retreat than Billingsfield and make tip her mind
+to hide for the rest of her life. But Mr. Juxon had heard of women who
+had carried charity as far as to receive back their husbands under even
+worse circumstances; women were soft-hearted creatures, reflected the
+squire, and capable of anything.
+
+Few people in such a situation could have acted consistently as though
+nothing had happened. But Mr. Juxon's extremely reticent nature found it
+easy to bury other people's important secrets at least as deeply as he
+buried the harmless details of his own honest life. Not a hair of his
+smooth head was ruffled, not a line of his square manly face was
+disturbed. He looked and acted precisely as he had looked and acted
+before. His butler remarked that he ate a little less heartily of late,
+and that on one evening, as has been recorded, the squire forgot to
+dress for dinner. But the butler in his day had seen greater
+eccentricities than these; he had the greatest admiration for Mr. Juxon
+and was not inclined to cavil at small things. A real gentleman, of the
+good sort, who dressed for dinner when he was alone, who never took too
+much wine, who never bullied the servants nor quarrelled unjustly with
+the bills, was, as the butler expressed it, "not to be sneezed at, on
+no account." The place was a little dull, but the functionary was well
+stricken in years and did not like hard work. Mr. Juxon seemed to be
+conscious that as he never had visitors at the Hall and as there were
+consequently no "tips," his staff was entitled to an occasional fee,
+which he presented always with great regularity, and which had the
+desired effect. He was a generous man as well as a just.
+
+The traffic in roses and orchids and new books continued as usual between
+the Hall and the cottage, and for many weeks nothing extraordinary
+occurred. Mrs. Ambrose and Mrs. Goddard met frequently, and the only
+difference to be observed in the manner of the former was that she
+mentioned John Short very often, and every time she mentioned him she
+fixed her grey eyes sternly upon Mrs. Goddard, who however did not notice
+the scrutiny, or, if she did, was not in the least disturbed by it. For a
+long time Mrs. Ambrose entertained a feeble intention of addressing Mrs.
+Goddard directly upon the subject of John's affections, but the longer
+she put off doing so, the harder it seemed to do it. Mrs. Ambrose had
+great faith in the sternness of her eye under certain circumstances, and
+seeing that Mrs. Goddard never winced, she gradually fell into the belief
+that John had been the more to blame, if there was any blame in the
+matter. She had indeed succeeded in the first instance, by methods of her
+own which have been heretofore detailed, in extracting a sort of
+reluctant admission from her husband; but since that day he had proved
+obdurate to all entreaty. Once only he had said with considerable
+impatience that John was a very silly boy, and was much better engaged
+with his books at college than in running after Mrs. Goddard. That was
+all, and gradually as the regular and methodical life at the vicarage
+effaced the memory of the doings at Christmas time, the good Mrs.
+Ambrose forgot that anything unpleasant had ever occurred. There was no
+disturbance of the existing relations and everything went on as before
+for many weeks. The February thaw set in early and the March winds began
+to blow before February was fairly out. Nat Barker the octogenarian
+cripple, who had the reputation of being a weather prophet, was
+understood to have said that the spring was "loike to be forrard t'year,"
+and the minds of the younger inhabitants were considerably relieved. Not
+that Nat Barker's prophecies were usually fulfilled; no one ever
+remembered them at the time when they might have been verified. But they
+were always made at the season when people had nothing to do but to talk
+about them. Mr. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, turned up his nose
+at them, and said he "wished Nat Barker had to dig a parish depth grave
+in three hours without a drop of nothin' to wet his pipe with, and if he
+didden fine that groun' oncommon owdacious Thomas Reid he didden know.
+They didden know nothin', sir, them parish cripples." Wherewith the
+worthy sexton took his way with a battered tin can to get his "fours"
+at the Feathers. He did not patronise the Duke's Head. It was too
+new-fangled for him, and he suspected his arch enemy, Mr. Abraham Boosey,
+of putting a rat or two into the old beer to make it "draw," which
+accounted for its being so "hard." But Mr. Abraham Boosey was the
+undertaker, and he, Thomas Reid, was the sexton, and it did not do to
+express these views too loudly, lest perchance Mr. Boosey should, just in
+his play, construct a coffin or two just too big for the regulation
+grave, and thereby leave Mr. Reid in the lurch. For the undertaker and
+the gravedigger are as necessary to each other, as Mr. Reid maintained,
+as a pair of blackbirds in a hedge.
+
+But the spring was "forrard t'year" and the weather was consequently even
+more detestable than usual at that season. The roads were heavy. The rain
+seemed never weary of pouring down and the wind never tired of blowing.
+The wet and leafless creepers beat against the walls of the cottage, and
+the chimneys smoked both there and at the vicarage. The rooms were
+pervaded with a disagreeable smell of damp coal smoke, and the fires
+struggled desperately to burn against the overwhelming odds of rain and
+wind which came down the chimneys. Mrs. Goddard never remembered to have
+been so uncomfortable during the two previous winters she had spent in
+Billingsfield, and even Nellie grew impatient and petulant. The only
+bright spot in those long days seemed to be made by the regular visits of
+Mr. Juxon, by the equally regular bi-weekly appearance of the Ambroses
+when they came to tea, and by the little dinners at the vicarage. The
+weather had grown so wet and the roads so bad that on these latter
+occasions the vicar sent his dogcart with Reynolds and the old mare,
+Strawberry, to fetch his two guests. Even Mr. Juxon, who always walked
+when he could, had got into the habit of driving down to the cottage
+in a strange-looking gig which he had imported from America, and which,
+among all the many possessions of the squire, alone attracted the
+unfavourable comment of his butler. He would have preferred to see a good
+English dogcart, high in the seat and wheels, at the door of the Hall,
+instead of that outlandish vehicle; but Joseph Ruggles, the groom,
+explained to him that it was easier to clean than a dogcart, and that
+when it rained he sat inside with the squire.
+
+On a certain evening in February, towards the end of the month, Mr. and
+Mrs. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon came to have tea with Mrs. Goddard. Mr. Juxon
+had at first not been regularly invited to these entertainments. They
+were perhaps not thought worthy of his grandeur; at all events both the
+vicar's wife and Mrs. Goddard had asked him very rarely. But as time went
+on and Mr. Juxon's character developed under the eyes of the little
+Billingsfield society, it had become apparent to every one that he was a
+very simple man, making no pretensions whatever to any superiority on
+account of his station. They grew more and more fond of him, and ended by
+asking him to their small sociable evenings. On these occasions it
+generally occurred that the squire and the vicar fell into conversation
+about classical and literary subjects while the two ladies talked of the
+little incidents of Billingsfield life, of Tom Judd's wife and of Joe
+Staines, the choir boy, who was losing his voice, and of similar topics
+of interest in the very small world in which they lived.
+
+The present evening had not been at all a remarkable one so far as the
+talk was concerned. The drenching rain, the tendency of the fire to
+smoke, the general wetness and condensed depravity of the atmosphere had
+affected the spirits of the little party. They were not gay, and they
+broke up early. It was not nine o'clock when all had gone, and Mrs.
+Goddard and little Eleanor were left alone by the side of their
+drawing-room fire. The child sat upon a footstool and leaned her head
+against her mother's knee. Mrs. Goddard herself was thoughtful and
+sad, without precisely knowing why. She generally looked forward with
+pleasure to meeting the Ambroses, but this evening she had been rather
+disappointed. The conversation had dragged, and the excellent Mrs.
+Ambrose had been more than usually prosy. Nellie had complained of a
+headache and leaned wearily against her mother's knee.
+
+"Tell me a story, mamma--won't you? Like the ones you used to tell me
+when I was quite a little girl."
+
+"Dear child," said her mother, who was not thinking of story-telling, "I
+am afraid I have forgotten all the ones I ever knew. Besides, darling, it
+is time for you to go to bed."
+
+"I don't want to go to bed, mamma. It is such a horrid night. The wind
+keeps me awake."
+
+"You will not sleep at all if I tell you a story," objected Mrs. Goddard.
+
+"Mr. Juxon tells me such nice stories," said Nellie, reproachfully.
+
+"What are they about, dear?"
+
+"Oh, his stories are beautiful. They are always about ships and the blue
+sea and wonderful desert islands where he has been. What a wonderful man
+he is, mamma, is not he?"
+
+"Yes, dear, he talks very interestingly." Mrs. Goddard stroked Nellie's
+brown curls and looked into the fire.
+
+"He told me that once, ever so many years ago--he must be very old,
+mamma--" Nellie paused and looked up inquiringly.
+
+"Well, darling--not so very, very old. I think he is over forty."
+
+"Over forty--four times eleven--he is not four times as old as I am.
+Almost, though. All his stories are ever so many years ago. He said he
+was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new ship, and the name of
+the ship was--let me see, what was the name? I think it was--"
+
+Mrs. Goddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child's shoulder.
+
+"Did you hear anything, Nellie?" she asked quickly. Nellie looked up in
+some surprise.
+
+"No, mamma. When? Just now? It must have been the wind. It is such a
+horrid night. The name of the ship was the 'Zephyr'--I remember, now."
+She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story. Mrs.
+Goddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window. She
+had probably been mistaken.
+
+"And where did the ship sail to, Nellie dear?" she asked, smoothing the
+child's curls again and forcing herself to smile.
+
+"Oh--the ship was a perfectly new ship and it was the most beautiful
+weather in the world. They were sailing away ever so far, towards the
+straits of Magellan. I was so glad because I knew where the straits of
+Magellan were--and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished. But I had been
+learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen
+there, in my geography that very morning--was not it lucky? So I knew all
+about it--mamma, how nervous you are! It is nothing but the wind. I wish
+you would listen to my story--"
+
+"I am listening, darling," said Mrs. Goddard, making a strong effort to
+overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her. "Go on,
+sweetheart--you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing
+away--"
+
+"Mr. Juxon was, mamma," said Nellie correcting her mother with the
+asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects.
+
+"Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the ship was the 'Zephyr.'"
+
+"Yes--the 'Zephyr,'" repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified. "It was at
+Christmas time he said--but that is summer in the southern hemisphere,"
+she added, proud of her knowledge. "So it was very fine weather. And Mr.
+Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a
+cigar--"
+
+"He never smokes, dear," interrupted Mrs. Goddard, glad to show Nellie
+that she was listening.
+
+"Well, but he did then, because he said so," returned Nellie unmoved.
+"And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he
+saw the most wonderful thing, close to the ship--the most wonderful thing
+he ever saw," added Nellie with some redundance of expression.
+
+"Was it a whale, child?" asked her mother, staring into the fire and
+trying to pay attention.
+
+"A whale, mamma!" repeated Nellie contemptuously. "As if there were
+anything remarkable about a whale! Mr. Juxon has seen billions of whales,
+I am sure."
+
+"Well, what was it, dear?"
+
+"It was the most awfully tremendous thing with green and blue scales, a
+thousand times as big as the ship--oh mamma! What was that?"
+
+Nellie started up from her stool and knelt beside her mother, looking
+towards the window. Mrs. Goddard was deathly pale and grasped the arm of
+her chair.
+
+"Somebody knocked at the window, mamma," said Nellie breathlessly. "And
+then somebody said 'Mary'--quite loud. Oh mamma, what can it be?"
+
+"Mary?" repeated Mrs. Goddard as though she were in a dream.
+
+"Yes--quite loud. Oh mamma! it must be Mary's young man--he does
+sometimes come in the evening."
+
+"Mary's young man, child?" Mrs. Goddard's heart leaped. Her cook's name
+was Mary, as well as her own. Nellie naturally never associated the name
+with her mother, as she never heard anybody call her by it.
+
+"Yes mamma. Don't you know? The postman--the man with the piebald horse."
+The explanation was necessary, as Mrs. Goddard rarely received any
+letters and probably did not know the postman by sight.
+
+"At this time of night!" exclaimed Mrs. Goddard. "It is too bad. Mary is
+gone to bed."
+
+"Perhaps he thinks you are gone to the vicarage and that Mary is sitting
+up for you in the drawing-room," suggested Nellie with much good sense.
+"Well, he can't come in, can he, mamma?"
+
+"Certainly not," said her mother. "But I think you had much better go to
+bed, my dear. It is half-past nine." She spoke indistinctly, almost
+thickly, and seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. But
+Nellie had settled down upon her stool again, and did not notice her
+mother.
+
+"Oh not yet," said she. "I have not nearly finished about the
+sea-serpent. Mr. Juxon said it was not like anything in the world. Do
+listen, mamma! It is the most wonderful story you ever heard. It was
+all covered with blue and green scales, and it rolled, and rolled, and
+rolled, and rolled, till at last it rolled up against the side of the
+ship with such a tremendous bump that Mr. Juxon fell right down on his
+back."
+
+"Yes dear," said Mrs. Goddard mechanically, as the child paused.
+
+"You don't seem to mind at all!" cried Nellie, who felt that her efforts
+to amuse her mother were not properly appreciated. "He fell right down on
+his back and hurt himself awfully."
+
+"That was very sad," said Mrs. Goddard. "Did he catch the sea-serpent
+afterwards ?"
+
+"Catch the sea-serpent! Why mamma, don't you know that nobody has ever
+caught the sea-serpent? Why, hardly anybody has ever seen him, even!"
+
+"Yes dear, but I thought Mr. Juxon--"
+
+"Of course, Mr. Juxon is the most wonderful man--but he could not catch
+the sea-serpent. Just fancy! When he got up from his fall, he looked and
+he saw him quite half a mile away. He must have gone awfully fast, should
+not you think so? Because, you know, it was only a minute."
+
+"Yes, my child; and it is a beautiful story, and you told it so nicely.
+It is very interesting and you must tell me another to-morrow. But now,
+dear, you must really go to bed, because I am going to bed, too. That man
+startled me so," she said, passing her small white hand over her pale
+forehead and then staring into the fire.
+
+"Well, I don't wonder," answered Nellie in a patronising tone. "Such a
+dreadful night too! Of course, it would startle anybody. But he won't try
+again, and you can scold Mary to-morrow and then she can scold her young
+man."
+
+The child spoke so naturally that all doubts vanished from Mrs. Goddard's
+mind. She reflected that children are much more apt to see things as they
+are, than grown people whose nerves are out of order. Nellie's
+conclusions were perfectly logical, and it seemed folly to doubt them.
+She determined that Mary should certainly be scolded on the morrow and
+she unconsciously resolved in her mind the words she should use; for she
+was rather a timid woman and stood a little in awe of her stalwart
+Berkshire cook, with her mighty arms and her red face, and her uncommonly
+plain language.
+
+"Yes dear," she said more quietly than she had been able to speak for
+some time, "I have no doubt you are quite right. I thought I heard his
+footsteps just now, going down the path. So he will not trouble us any
+more to-night. And now darling, kneel down and say your prayers, and then
+we will go to bed."
+
+So Nellie, reassured by the news that her mother was going to bed, too,
+knelt down as she had done every night during the eleven years of her
+life, and clasped her hands together, beneath her mother's. Then she
+cleared her throat, then she glanced at the clock, then she looked for
+one moment into the sweet serious violet eyes that looked down on her so
+lovingly, and then at last she bent her lovely little head and began to
+say her prayers, there, by the fire, at her mother's knees, while angry
+storm howled fiercely without and shook the closed panes and shutters
+and occasional drops of rain, falling down the short chimney, sputtered
+in the smouldering coal fire.
+
+"Our Father which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy Kingdom
+come--"
+
+Nellie gave a loud scream and springing up from her knees flung her arms
+around her mother's neck, in uttermost, wildest terror.
+
+"Mamma, mamma!" she cried looking, and yet hardly daring to look, back
+towards the closed window. "It called 'MARY GODDARD'! It is you, mamma!
+Oh!"
+
+There was no mistaking it this time. While Nellie was saying her prayer
+there had come three sharp and distinct raps upon the wooden shutter, and
+a voice, not loud but clear, penetrating into the room in spite of wind
+and storm and rain.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard!" it said.
+
+Mrs. Goddard started to her feet, lifting Nellie bodily from the ground
+in her agony of terror; staring round the room wildly as though in search
+of some possible escape.
+
+"I must come in! I will come in!" said the voice again.
+
+"Oh don't let him in! Mamma! Don't let him in!" moaned the terrified
+child upon her breast, clinging to her and weighing her down, and
+grasping her neck and arm with convulsive strength.
+
+But in moments of great agitation timid people, or people who are thought
+timid, not uncommonly do brave things. Mrs. Goddard unclasped Nellie's
+hold and forced the terror-struck child into a deep chair.
+
+"Stay there, darling," she said with unnatural calmness. "Do not be
+afraid. I will go and open the door."
+
+Nellie was now too much frightened to resist. Mrs. Goddard went out into
+the little passage which was dimly lighted by a hanging lamp, and closed
+the door of the drawing-room behind her. She could hear Nellie's
+occasional convulsive sobs distinctly. For one moment she paused, her
+right hand on the lock of the front door, her left hand pressed to her
+side, leaning against the wall of the passage. Then she turned the key
+and the handle and drew the door in towards her. A violent gust of wind,
+full of cold and drenching rain, whirled into the passage and almost
+blinded her. The lamp flickered in the lantern overhead. But she looked
+boldly out, facing the wind and weather.
+
+"Come in!" she called in a low voice.
+
+Immediately there was a sound as of footsteps coming from the direction
+of the drawing-room window, across the wet slate flags which surrounded
+the cottage, and a moment afterwards, peering through the darkness, Mrs.
+Goddard saw a man with a ghastly face standing before her in the rain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard's heart stood still as she looked at the wretched man, and
+tried to discover her husband's face, even a resemblance to him, in the
+haggard features she saw close before her. But he gave her small time for
+reflection; so soon as he had recognised her he sprang past her into the
+passage and pulling her after him closed the door.
+
+"Mary--don't you know me?" he said, in low tones. "You must save me--they
+are after me--" He stood close beside her in the narrow way, beneath
+the small lamp; he tried to put his arm around her and he bent down and
+brought his ghastly face close to hers. But she drew back as from a
+contamination. She was horrified, and it was a natural movement. She knew
+his voice even better than his features, now that he spoke. He pressed
+nearer to her and she thrust him back with her hands. Then suddenly a
+thought struck her; she took him by the sleeve and led him into the
+dining-room. There was no light there; she pushed him in.
+
+"Stay there one minute--"
+
+"No--no, you won't call--"
+
+"I will save you--there is--there is somebody in the drawing-room."
+Before he could answer her she was gone, leaving him alone in the dark.
+He listened intently, not venturing to leave the spot where she had
+placed him; he thought he heard voices and footsteps, but no one came out
+into the passage. It seemed an eternity to wait. At last she came,
+bearing a lighted candle in her hand. She carefully shut the door of the
+dining-room behind her and put the light upon the table. She moved like a
+person in a dream.
+
+"Sit down," she said, pointing to a chair. "Are you hungry?" His sunken
+eyes sparkled. She brought food and ale and set them before him. He ate
+and drank voraciously in silence. She sat at the opposite side of the
+table--the solitary candle between them, and shading her eyes with one
+hand she gazed at his face.
+
+Walter Goddard was a man at least forty years of age. He had been thought
+very handsome once. He had light blue eyes and a fair skin with flaxen
+hair--now cropped short and close to his head. There was nearly a
+fortnight's growth of beard upon his face, but it was not yet sufficient
+to hide his mouth and chin. He had formerly worn a heavy moustache and
+it was chiefly the absence of it which now made it hard for his wife to
+recognise him. A battered hat, drenched and dripping with rain, shaded
+his brows. Possibly he was ashamed to remove it. His mouth was small and
+weak and his jaw was pointed. His whole expression was singularly
+disagreeable--his hands were filthy, and his face was not clean. About
+his neck was twisted a ragged woollen comforter, and he wore a
+smock-frock which was now soaked with water and clung to his thin figure.
+He devoured the food his wife had brought him, shivering from time to
+time as though he were still cold.
+
+Mrs. Goddard watched him in silence. She had done mechanically according
+to her first instinct, had led him in and had given him food. But she had
+not recovered herself sufficiently from her first horror and astonishment
+to realise her situation. At last she spoke.
+
+"How did you escape?" she asked. He bent lower than before, over his
+plate and would not look at her.
+
+"Don't ask me," he answered shortly.
+
+"Why did you do it?" she inquired again. Goddard laughed harshly; his
+voice was hoarse and cracked.
+
+"Why did I do it!" he repeated. "Did you ever hear of any one who would
+not escape from prison if he had the chance? Don't look at me like that,
+Mary--"
+
+"I am sorry for you," she said.
+
+"You don't seem very glad to see me," he answered roughly. "I might have
+known it."
+
+"Yes, you might have known it."
+
+It seemed a very hard and cruel thing to say, and Mary Goddard was very
+far from being a cruel woman by nature; but she was stunned by fear and
+disgust and horrified by the possibilities of harm suddenly brought
+before her.
+
+Goddard pushed his plate away and leaned his elbows upon the table
+supporting his chin in his hands. He scowled at her defiantly.
+
+"You have given me a warm reception, after nearly three years
+of--separation." There was a bitter sneer in the word.
+
+"I am horrified to see you here," she said simply. "You know very well
+that I cannot conceal you--"
+
+"Oh, I don't expect miracles," said Goddard contemptuously. "I don't know
+that, when I came here, I expected to cause you any particularly
+agreeable sensation. I confess, when a woman has not seen her beloved
+husband for three years, one might expect her to show a little feeling--"
+
+"I will do what I can for you, Walter," said his wife, whose unnatural
+calm was fast yielding to an overpowering agitation.
+
+"Then give me fifty pounds and tell me the nearest way east," answered
+the convict savagely.
+
+"I have not got fifty pounds in the house," protested Mary Goddard, in
+some alarm. "I never keep much money--I can get it for you--"
+
+"I have a great mind to look," returned her husband suspiciously. "How
+soon can you get it?"
+
+"To-morrow night--the time to get a cheque cashed--"
+
+"So you keep a banker's account?"
+
+"Of course. But a cheque would be of no use to you--I wish it were!"
+
+"Naturally you do. You would get rid of me at once." Suddenly his voice
+changed. "Oh, Mary--you used to love me!" cried the wretched man, burying
+his face in his hands.
+
+"I was very wrong," answered his wife, looking away from him. "You did
+not deserve it--you never did."
+
+"Because I was unfortunate!"
+
+"Unfortunate!" repeated Mary Goddard with rising scorn.
+"Unfortunate--when you were deceiving me every day of your life. I could
+have forgiven a great deal--Walter--but not that, not that!"
+
+"What? About the money?" he asked with sudden fierceness.
+
+"The money--no. Even though you were disgraced and convicted, Walter, I
+would have forgiven that, I would have tried to see you, to comfort you.
+I should have been sorry for you; I would have done what I could to help
+you. But I could not forgive you the rest; I never can."
+
+"Bah! I never cared for her," said the convict. But under his livid skin
+there rose a faint blush of shame.
+
+"You never cared for me--that is the reason I--am not glad to see you--"
+
+"I did, Mary. Upon my soul I did. I love you still!" He rose and came
+near to his wife, and again he would have put his arm around her. But she
+sprang to her feet with an angry light in her eyes.
+
+"If you dare to touch me, I will give you up!" she cried. Goddard shrank
+back to his chair, very pale and trembling violently.
+
+"You would not do that, Mary," he almost whined. But she remained
+standing, looking at him very menacingly.
+
+"Indeed I would--you don't know me," she said, between her teeth.
+
+"You are as hard as a stone," he answered, sullenly, and for some minutes
+there was silence between them.
+
+"I suppose you are going to turn me out into the rain again?" asked the
+convict.
+
+"You cannot stay here--you are not safe for a minute. You will have to
+go. You must come back to-morrow and I will give you the money. You had
+better go now--"
+
+"Oh, Mary, I would not have thought it of you," moaned Goddard.
+
+"Why--what else can I do? I cannot let you sleep in the house--I have no
+barn. If any one saw you here it would be all over. People know about
+it--"
+
+"What people?"
+
+"The vicar and his wife and Mr. Juxon at the Hall."
+
+"Mr. Juxon? What is he like? Would he give me up if he knew?"
+
+"I think he would," said Mary Goddard, thoughtfully. "I am almost sure he
+would. He is the justice of the peace here--he would be bound to."
+
+"Do you know him?" Goddard thought he detected a slight nervousness in
+his wife's manner.
+
+"Very well. This house belongs to him."
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated the convict. "I begin to see."
+
+"Yes--you see you had better go," said his wife innocently. "How can you
+manage to come here tomorrow? You cannot go on without the money--"
+
+"No--and I don't mean to," he answered roughly. Money was indeed an
+absolute necessity to him. "Give me what you have got in the house,
+anyhow. You may think better of it to-morrow. I don't trust people of
+your stamp."
+
+Mary Goddard rose without a word and left the room. When she was gone the
+convict set himself to finish the jug of ale she had brought, and looked
+about him. He saw objects that reminded him of his former home. He
+examined the fork with which he had eaten and remembered the pattern and
+the engraved initials as he turned it over in his hand. The very table
+itself had belonged to his house--the carpet beneath his feet, the chair
+upon which he sat. It all seemed too unnatural to be true. That very
+night, that very hour, he must go forth again into the wild February
+weather and hide himself, leaving all these things behind him; leaving
+behind too his wife, the woman he had so bitterly injured, but who was
+still his wife. It seemed impossible. Surely he might stay if he pleased;
+it was not true that detectives were on his track--it was all a dream,
+since that dreadful day when he had written that name, which was not his,
+upon a piece of paper. He had waked up and was again at home. But he
+started as he heard a footstep in the passage, being now accustomed to
+start at sounds which suggested pursuit; he started and he felt the wet
+smock-frock, which was his disguise, clinging to him as he moved, and the
+reality of the present returned to him with awful force. His wife again
+entered the room.
+
+"There are over nine pounds," she said. "It is all I have." She laid the
+money upon the table before him and remained standing. "You shall have
+the rest to-morrow," she added.
+
+"Can't I see Nellie?" he asked suddenly. It was the first time he had
+spoken of his child. Mrs. Goddard hesitated.
+
+"No," she said at last. "You cannot see her now. She must not be told;
+she thinks you are dead. You may catch a glimpse of her to-morrow--"
+
+"Well--it is better she should not know, I suppose. You could not
+explain."
+
+"No, Walter, I could not--explain. Come later to-morrow night--to the
+same window. I will undo the shutters and give you the money." Mary
+Goddard was almost overcome with exhaustion. It was a terrible struggle
+to maintain her composure under such circumstances; but necessity does
+wonders. "Where will you sleep to-night?" she asked presently. She pitied
+the wretch from her heart, though she longed to see him leave her house.
+
+"I will get into the stables of some public-house. I pass for a tramp."
+There was a terrible earnestness in the simple statement, which did more
+to make Mary Goddard realise her husband's position than anything else
+could have done. To people who live in the country the word "tramp" means
+so much.
+
+"Poor Walter!" said Mrs. Goddard softly, and for the first time since she
+had seen him the tears stood in her eyes.
+
+"Don't waste your pity on me," he answered. "Let me be off."
+
+There was half a loaf and some cheese left upon the table. Mrs. Goddard
+put them together and offered them to him.
+
+"You had better take it," she said. He took the food readily enough and
+hid it under his frock. He knew the value of it. Then he got upon his
+feet. He moved painfully, for the cold and the wet had stiffened his
+limbs already weakened with hunger and exhaustion.
+
+"Let me be off," he said again, and moved towards the door. His wife
+followed him in silence. In the passage he paused again.
+
+"Well, Mary," he said, "I suppose I ought to be grateful to you for not
+giving me up to the police."
+
+"You know very well," answered Mrs. Goddard, "that what I can do to save
+you, I will do. You know that."
+
+"Then do it, and don't forget the money. It's hanging this time if I'm
+caught."
+
+Mrs. Goddard uttered a low cry and leaned against the wall.
+
+"What?" she faltered. "You have not--"
+
+"I believe I killed somebody in getting away," answered the felon with a
+grim laugh. Then, without her assistance, he opened the door and went out
+into the pouring rain. The door shut behind him and Mary Goddard heard
+his retreating footsteps on the path outside. When he was fairly gone she
+suddenly broke down, and falling upon her knees in the passage beat her
+forehead against the wall in an agony of despair.
+
+Murderer--thief, forger and murderer, too! It was more than she could
+bear. Even now he was within a stone's throw of her house; a moment ago
+he had been here, beside her--there beyond, too, in the dining-room,
+sitting opposite to her at her own table as he had sat in his days of
+innocence and honour for many a long year before his crime. In the sudden
+necessity of acting, in the unutterable surprise of finding herself again
+face to face with him, she had been calm; now that he was gone she felt
+as though she must go mad. She asked herself if this filthy tramp, this
+branded villain, was the husband she had loved and cherished for years,
+whose beauty she had admired, whose hand she had held so often, whose
+lips she had kissed--if this was the father of her lovely child. It was
+all over now. There was blood upon his hands as well as other guilt. If
+he were caught he must die, or at the very least be imprisoned for life.
+He could never again be free to come forth after the expiation of his
+crimes and to claim her and his child. If he escaped now, it must be to
+live in a distant country under a perpetual disguise. If he were caught,
+the news of his capture would be in all the papers, the news of his trial
+for murder, the very details of his execution. The Ambroses would know
+and the squire, even the country folk, would perhaps at last know the
+truth about her. Life even in the quiet spot she had chosen would become
+intolerable, and she would be obliged to go forth again into a more
+distant exile. She bitterly repented having written to her husband in his
+prison to tell him where she was settled. It would have been sufficient
+to acquaint the governor with the fact, so that Goddard might know where
+she was when his term expired. She had never written but once, and he had
+perhaps not been allowed to answer the letter. His appearance at her door
+proved that he had received it. Would to God he had not, she thought.
+
+There were other things besides his crime of forgery which had acted far
+more powerfully upon Mary Goddard's mind, and which had broken for ever
+all ties of affection; circumstances which had appeared during his trial
+and which had shown that he had not only been unfaithful to those who
+trusted him, but had been unfaithful to the wife who loved him. That was
+what she could not forgive; it was the memory of that which rose like an
+impassable wall between her and him, worse than his frauds, his forgery,
+worse almost than his murder. He had done that which even a loving woman
+could not pardon, that which was past all forgiveness. That was why his
+sudden appearance roused no tender memories, elicited seemingly so little
+sympathy from her. She was too good a woman to say it, but she knew in
+her heart that she wished him dead, the very possibility of ever seeing
+him again gone from her life for ever, no matter how.
+
+But she must see him again, nevertheless, and to-morrow. To-morrow, too,
+she would have to meet the squire, and appear to act and talk as though
+nothing had happened in this terrible night. That would be the hardest of
+all, perhaps; even harder than meeting her husband for a brief moment in
+order to give him the means of escape. She felt that in helping him she
+was participating in his crimes, and yet, she asked herself, what woman
+would have acted differently? What woman, even though she might hate her
+husband with her whole soul, and justly, would yet be so hard-hearted as
+to refuse him assistance when he was flying for his life? It would be
+impossible. She must help him at any cost; but it was hard to feel that
+she must see the squire and behave with indifference, while her husband
+was lurking in the neighbourhood, when a detective might at any moment
+come to the door, and demand to search the house.
+
+These thoughts passed very quickly through her overwrought brain, as she
+knelt in the passage; kneeling because she felt she could no longer
+stand, the passionate tears streaming down her face, her small hands
+pressing her temples. Then she struggled to her feet and dried her eyes,
+steadying herself against the wall for a moment. She had almost forgotten
+little Nellie whom she had left in the drawing-room. She had told the
+child, when she went back to her, leaving Goddard alone in the dark, that
+the man was a poor starving tramp, but that she did not want Nellie to
+see him, because he looked so miserable. She would give him something to
+eat and send him away, she said, and meanwhile Nellie should sit by the
+drawing-room fire and wait for her. The child trusted her mother
+implicitly and was completely reassured. Mrs. Goddard dried her eyes,
+and re-entered the room. Nellie was curled up in a big chair with a book;
+she looked up quickly.
+
+"Why, mamma," she said, "you have been crying!"
+
+"Have I, darling? I daresay it was the sight of that poor man. He was
+very wretched."
+
+"Is he gone?" asked the child.
+
+It was unusually late and Nellie was beginning to be sleepy, so that she
+was more easily quieted than she could have been in ordinary
+circumstances. It might have struck her as strange that a wandering tramp
+should know her mother's Christian name, as still more inexplicable that
+her mother should have been willing to admit such a man at so late an
+hour. She had been badly frightened, but trusting her mother as she did,
+her terror had quickly disappeared and had been quickly followed by
+sleepiness.
+
+But Mrs. Goddard. did not sleep that night. She felt as though she could
+never sleep again, and for many hours she lay thinking of the new element
+of fear which had so suddenly come into her life at the very time when
+she believed herself to be safe for many years to come. She longed to
+know where her wretched husband was; whether he had found shelter for the
+night, whether he was still free or whether he had even then fallen into
+the hands of his pursuers. She knew that she could not have concealed him
+in the house and that she had done all that lay in her power for him. But
+she started at every sound, as the rain rattled against the shutters and
+the wind howled down the chimney.
+
+Walter Goddard, however, was safe for the present and was even
+luxuriously lodged, considering his circumstances, for he was comfortably
+installed amongst the hay in the barn of the "Feathers" inn. He had been
+in Billingsfield since early in the afternoon and had considered
+carefully the question of his quarters for the night. He had observed
+from a distance the landlord of the said inn, and had boldly offered to
+do a "day's work for a night's lodging." He said he was "tramping" his
+way back from London to his home in Yorkshire; he knew enough of the
+sound of the rough Yorkshire dialect to pass for a native of that county
+amongst ignorant labourers who had never heard the real tongue. The
+landlord of the Feathers consented to the bargain and Goddard was told
+that he might sleep in the barn if he liked, and should take a turn at
+cutting chaff the next day to pay for the convenience. The convict slept
+soundly; he was past lying awake in useless fits of remorse, and he was
+exhausted with his day's journey. Moreover he had now the immediate
+prospect of obtaining sufficient money to carry him safely out of the
+country, and once abroad he felt sure of baffling pursuit. He was an
+accomplished man and spoke French with a fluency unusual in Englishmen;
+he determined to get across the channel in some fishing craft; he would
+then make his way to Paris and enlist in the Foreign Legion. It would be
+safer than trying to go to America, where people were invariably caught
+as they landed. It was a race for life and death, and he knew it. Had he
+been able to obtain clothes, money and a disguise in London he would have
+travelled by rail. But that had been impossible and it now seemed a wiser
+plan to "tramp" it. His beard was growing rapidly and would soon make a
+complete disguise. Village constables are generally simple people, easily
+imposed upon, very different from London detectives; and hitherto he felt
+sure that he had baffled pursuit by the mere simplicity of his
+proceedings. The intelligent officials of Scotland Yard were used to
+forgers and swindlers who travelled by express trains and crossed to
+America by fashionable steamers. It did not strike them as very likely
+that a man of Walter Goddard's previous tastes and habits could get
+through the country in the guise of a tramp. If he had been possessed at
+the time of his escape of the money he so much desired he would probably
+have been caught; as it was, he got away without difficulty, and at the
+very time when every railway station and every port in the kingdom were
+being watched for him, he was lurking in the purlieus of Whitechapel, and
+then tramping his way east in comparative safety, half starved, it is
+true, but unmolested.
+
+That he was disappointed at the reception his wife had given him did not
+prevent him from sleeping peacefully that night. One thing alone
+disturbed him, and that was her mention of Mr. Juxon, in whose house, as
+she had told him, she lived. It seems incredible that a man in Walter
+Goddard's position, lost to every sense of honour, a criminal of the
+worst type, who had deceived his wife before he was indicted for forgery,
+who had certainly cared very little for her at any time, should now, in a
+moment of supreme danger, feel a pang of jealousy on hearing that his
+wife lived in the vicinity of the squire and occupied a house belonging
+to him. But he was too bad himself not to suspect others, especially
+those whom he had wronged, and the feeling was mingled with a strong
+curiosity to know whether this woman, who now treated him so haughtily
+and drew back from him as from some monstrous horror, was as good as she
+pretended to be. He said to himself that on the next day at dawn he would
+slip out of the barn and try whether he could not find some hiding-place
+within easy reach of the cottage, so as to be able to watch her dwelling
+at his ease throughout the day. The plan seemed a good one. Since he was
+obliged to wait twenty-four hours in order to get the money he wanted, he
+might as well employ the time profitably in observing his wife's habits.
+It would be long, he said to himself with a bitter sneer, before he
+troubled her again--he would just like to see.
+
+Having come to this decision he drew some of the hay over his body and in
+spite of cold and wet was soon peacefully asleep. But at early dawn he
+awoke with the alacrity of a man who constantly expects pursuit, and
+slipped down from the hayloft into the barn. There was no one stirring
+and he got over the fence at the back of the yard and skirted the fields
+in the direction of the church, finally climbing another stile and
+entering what he supposed to be the park. On this side the back of the
+church ran out into a broad meadow, where the larger portion of the
+ancient abbey had once stood. Goddard walked along close by the church
+walls. He knew from his observation on the previous afternoon that he
+could thus come out into the road in the vicinity of the cottage, unless
+his way through the park were interrupted by impassable wire fences. The
+ground was very heavy and he was sure not to meet anybody in the meadows
+in such weather.
+
+Suddenly he stopped and looked at a buttress that jutted out from the
+church and for the existence of which there seemed to be no ostensible
+reason. He examined it and found that it was not a buttress but
+apparently a half ruined chamber, which at some former period had been
+built upon the side of the abbey. Low down by the ground there was a
+hole, where a few stones seemed to have been removed and not replaced.
+Goddard knelt down in the long wet grass and put in his head; then he
+crept in on his hands and knees and presently disappeared.
+
+He found himself in a room about ten feet square, dimly lighted by a
+small window at the top, and surrounded by long horizontal niches. The
+floor, which was badly broken in some places, was of stone. Goddard
+examined the place carefully. It was evidently an old vault of the kind
+formerly built above ground for the lords of the manor; but the coffins,
+if there had ever been any, had been removed elsewhere. Goddard laughed
+to himself.
+
+"I might stay here for a year, if I could get anything to eat," he said
+to himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+The squire had grown used to the position in which he found himself after
+Mary Goddard had told him her story. He continued his visits as formerly,
+and it could hardly be said that there was any change in his manner
+towards her; there was no need of any change, for even at the time when
+he contemplated making her his wife there had been nothing lover-like
+in his behaviour. He had been a friend and had treated her with all the
+respect due to a lonely lady who was his tenant, and even with a certain
+formality which had sometimes seemed unnecessary. But though there was no
+apparent alteration in his mode of talking, in his habit of bringing her
+flowers and books and of looking after the condition of the cottage, both
+she and he were perfectly conscious of the fact that they understood each
+other much better than before. They were united by the common bond of a
+common secret which very closely concerned one of them. Things were not
+as they had formerly been. Mrs. Goddard no longer felt that she had
+anything to hide; the squire knew that he no longer had anything to hope.
+If he had been a selfish man, if she had been a less sensible woman,
+their friendship might have ended then and there. But Mr. Juxon was not
+selfish, and Mary Goddard did not lack good sense. Having ascertained
+that in the ordinary course of events there was no possibility of ever
+marrying her, the squire did not at once give her over and go elsewhere;
+on the contrary he showed himself more desirous than ever of assisting
+her and amusing her. He was a patient man; his day might come yet, if
+Goddard died. It did not follow that if he could not marry Mrs. Goddard
+he must needs marry some one else; for it was not a wife that he sought,
+but the companionship of this particular woman as his wife. If he could
+not marry he could still enjoy at least a portion of that companionship,
+by visiting her daily and talking with her, and making himself a part of
+her life. He judged things very coldly and lost himself in no lofty
+flights of imagination. It was better that he should enjoy what fell in
+his way in at least seeing Mrs. Goddard and possessing her friendship,
+than that he should go out of his course in order to marry merely for the
+sake of marrying. He had seen so much of the active side of life that he
+was well prepared to revel in the peace which had fallen to his lot. He
+cared little whether he left an heir to the park; there were others of
+the name, and since the park had furnished matter for litigation during
+forty years before he came into possession of it, it might supply the
+lawyers with fees for forty years more after his death, for all he cared.
+It would have been very desirable to marry Mrs. Goddard if it had been
+possible, but since the thing could not be done at present it was best to
+submit with a good grace. Since the day when his suit had suddenly come
+to grief in the discovery of her real position, Mr. Juxon had
+philosophically said to himself that he had perhaps been premature in
+making his proposal, and that it was as well that it could not have been
+accepted; perhaps she would not have made him a good wife; perhaps he had
+deceived himself in thinking that because he liked her and desired her
+friendship he really wished to marry her; perhaps all was for the best in
+the best of all possible worlds, after all and in spite of all.
+
+But these reflections, which tended to soothe the squire's annoyance at
+the failure of a scheme which he had contemplated with so much delight,
+did not prevent him from feeling the most sincere sympathy for Mrs.
+Goddard, nor from constantly wishing that he could devise some plan for
+helping her. She seemed never to have thought of divorcing herself from
+her husband. The squire was not sure whether such a thing were possible;
+he doubted it, and promised himself that he would get a lawyer's opinion
+upon the matter. He believed that English law did not grant divorces on
+account of the husband's being sentenced to any limited period of penal
+servitude. But in any case it would be a very delicate subject to
+approach, and Mr. Juxon amused himself by constructing conversations in
+his mind which should lead up to this point without wounding poor Mrs.
+Goddard's sensibilities. He was the kindest of men; he would not for
+worlds have said a word which should recall to her that memorable day
+when she had told him her story. And yet it would be quite impossible to
+broach such a scheme without going at once into all the details of the
+chief cause of her sorrows. The consequence was that in the windings of
+his imagination the squire found himself perpetually turning in a vicious
+circle; but since the exercise concerned Mrs. Goddard and her welfare it
+was not uncongenial. He founded all his vague hopes upon one expression
+she had used. When in making his proposal he had spoken of her as being a
+widow, she had said, "Would to God that I were!" She had said it with
+such vehemence that he had felt sure that if she had indeed been a widow
+her answer to himself would have been favourable. Men easily retain such
+impressions received in moments of great excitement, and found hopes upon
+them.
+
+So the days had gone by and the squire had thought much but had come to
+no conclusion. On the morning when Walter Goddard crept into the disused
+vault at the back of the church, the squire awoke from his sleep at his
+usual early hour. He was not in a very good humour, if so equable a man
+could be said to be subject to such weaknesses as humours. The weather
+was very depressing--day after day brought only more rain, more wind,
+more mud, more of everything disagreeable. The previous evening had been
+unusually dull. He was never weary of being with Mary Goddard, but
+occasionally, when the Ambroses were present, the conversation became
+oppressive. Mr. Juxon almost wished that John Short would come back and
+cause a diversion. His views concerning John had undergone some change
+since he had discovered that nobody could marry Mrs. Goddard because she
+was married already. He believed he could watch John's efforts to attract
+her attention with indifference now, or if without indifference with a
+charitable forbearance. John at least would help to make conversation,
+and the conversation on the previous evening had been intolerably
+wearisome. Almost unconsciously, since the chief interest and hope of his
+daily life had been removed the squire began to long for a change; he
+had been a wanderer by profession during thirty years of his life and he
+was perhaps not yet old enough to settle into that absolute indifference
+to novelty which seems to characterise retired sailors.
+
+But as he brushed his smooth hair and combed his beard that morning,
+neither change nor excitement were very far from him. He looked over his
+dressing-glass at the leafless oaks of the park, at the grey sky and the
+driving rain and he wished something would happen. He wished somebody
+might die and leave a great library to be sold, that he might indulge
+his favourite passion; he wished he had somebody stopping in the Hall--he
+almost decided to send and ask the vicar to come to lunch and have a day
+among the books. As he entered the breakfast-room at precisely half-past
+eight o'clock, according to his wont, the butler informed him that Mr.
+Gall, the village constable, was below and wanted to see him after
+breakfast. He received the news in silence and sat down to eat his
+breakfast and read the morning paper. Gall had probably come about some
+petty summons, or to ask what he should do about the small boys who threw
+stones at the rooks and broke the church windows. After finishing his
+meal and his paper in the leisurely manner peculiar to country gentlemen
+who have nothing to do, the squire rang the bell, sent for the policeman
+and went into his study, a small room adjoining the library.
+
+Thomas Gall, constable, was a tall fair man with a mild eye and a
+cheerful face. Goodwill towards men and plentiful good living had done
+their work in eradicating from the good man all that stern element which
+might have been most useful to him in his career, not to say useful to
+the State. Each rolling year was pricked in his leathern belt with a new
+hole as his heart grew more peaceful and his body throve. He had a goodly
+girth and weighed full fifteen stone in his uniform; his mild blue eye
+had inspired confidence in a maiden of Billingsfield parish and Mrs. Gall
+was now rearing a numerous family of little Galls, all perhaps destined
+to become mild-eyed and portly village constables in their turn.
+
+The squire, who was not destitute of a sense of humour, never thought of
+Mr. Gall without a smile, so much out of keeping did the man's occupation
+seem with his jovial humour. Mr. Gall, he said, was the kind of policeman
+who would bribe a refractory tramp to move on by the present of a pint of
+beer. But Gall had a good point. He was very proud of his profession, and
+in the exercise of it he showed a discretion which, if it was the better
+part of his valour, argued unlimited natural courage. It was a secret
+profession, he was wont to say, and a man who could not keep a secret
+would never do for a constable. He shrouded his ways in an amiable
+mystery and walked a solitary beat on fine nights; when the nights were
+not fine there was nobody to see whether he walked his beat or not.
+Probably, he faithfully fulfilled his obligations; but his constitution
+seemed to bear exposure to the weather wonderfully well. Whether he ever
+saw anything worth mentioning upon those lonely walks of his, is
+uncertain; at all events he never mentioned anything he saw, unless it
+was in the secrecy of the reports he was supposed to transmit from time
+to time to his superiors.
+
+On the present occasion as he entered the study, the squire observed with
+surprise that he looked grave. He had never witnessed such a phenomenon
+before and argued that it was just possible that something of real
+importance might have occurred.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Gall, approaching the squire respectfully,
+after carefully closing the door behind him.
+
+"Good morning, Gall. Nothing wrong, I hope?"
+
+"Not yet, sir. I hope not, sir. Only a little matter of business, Mr.
+Juxon. In point of fact, sir, I wished to consult you."
+
+"Yes," said the squire who was used to the constable's method of
+circumlocution. "Yes--what is it?"
+
+"Well, sir--it's this," said the policeman, running his thumb round the
+inside of his belt as though to test the pressure, and clearing his
+throat. "There has been a general order sent down to be on the lookout,
+sir. So I thought it would be best to take your opinion."
+
+"My opinion," said the squire with great gravity, "is that if you are
+directed to be on the look-out, you should be on the look-out; by all
+means. What are you to be on the look-out for?"
+
+"In point of fact, sir," said the constable, lowering his voice, "we are
+informed that a criminal has escaped from Portland. I never heard of a
+convict getting out of that strong'old o' the law, sir, and I would like
+to have your opinion upon it."
+
+"But if you are informed that some one has escaped," remarked the squire,
+"you had better take it for granted that it is true."
+
+"Juss so, sir. But the circumstances wasn't communicated to us, sir; so
+we don't know."
+
+Mr. Gall paused, and the squire smoothed his hair a little.
+
+"Well, Gall," said Mr. Juxon, "have you any reason for believing that
+this escaped convict is likely to come this way?"
+
+"Well sir, there is some evidence," answered the policeman, mysteriously.
+"Leastways what seems like evidence to me, sir."
+
+"Of what kind?" the squire fixed his quiet eyes on Mr. Gall's face.
+
+"His name, sir. The name of the convict. There is a party of that name
+residin' here."
+
+The squire suddenly guessed what was coming, or at least a possibility of
+it crossed his mind. If Mr. Gall had been a more observant man he would
+have seen that Mr. Juxon grew a shade paler and changed one leg over the
+other as he sat. But in that moment he had time to nerve himself for the
+worst.
+
+"And what is the name, if you please?" he asked calmly.
+
+"The name in the general orders is Goddard, sir--Walter Goddard. He was
+convicted of forgery three years ago, sir, a regular bad lot. But
+discretion is recommended in the orders, sir, as the business is not
+wanted to get into the papers."
+
+The squire was ready. If Gall did not know that Mary Goddard was the wife
+of the convict Walter, he should certainly not find it out. In any other
+country of Europe that would have been the first fact communicated to the
+local police. Very likely, thought Mr. Juxon, nobody knew it.
+
+"I do not see," he said very slowly, "that the fact of there being a Mrs.
+Goddard residing here in the least proves that she is any relation to
+this criminal. The name is not so uncommon as that, you know."
+
+"Nor I either, sir. In point of fact, sir, I was only thinking. It's what
+you may call a striking coincidence, that's all."
+
+"It would have been a still more striking coincidence if his name had
+been Juxon like mine, or Ambrose like the vicar's," said the squire
+calmly. "There are other people of the name in England, and the local
+policemen will be warned to be on the lookout. If this fellow was called
+Juxon instead of Goddard, Gall, would you be inclined to think he was a
+relation of mine?"
+
+"Oh no, sir. Ha! ha! Very good sir! Very good indeed! No indeed, sir, and
+she such a real lady too!"
+
+"Well then, I do not see that you can do anything more than keep a sharp
+look-out. I suppose they sent you some kind of description?"
+
+"Well, yes. There was a kind of a description as you say, sir, but I'm
+not anyways sure of recognising the party by it. In point of fact, sir,
+the description says the convict is a fair man."
+
+"Is that all?"
+
+"Neither particular tall, nor yet particular short, sir. Not a very big
+'un nor a very little 'un, sir. In point of fact, sir, a fair man. Clean
+shaved and close cropped he is, sir, being a criminal."
+
+"I hope you may recognise him by that account," said the squire,
+suppressing a smile. "I don't believe I should."
+
+"Well, sir, it does say as he's a fair man," remarked the constable.
+
+"Supposing he blacked his face and passed for a chimney-sweep?" suggested
+the squire. The idea seemed to unsettle Gall's views.
+
+"In that case, sir, I don't know as I should know him, for certain," he
+answered.
+
+"Probably not--probably not, Gall. And judging from the account they have
+sent you I don't think you would be to blame."
+
+"Leastways it can't be said as I've failed to carry out superior
+instructions," replied Mr. Gall, proudly. "Then it's your opinion, sir,
+that I'd better keep a sharp look-out? Did I understand you to say so,
+sir?"
+
+"Quite so," returned the squire with great calmness. "By all means keep a
+sharp look-out, and be careful to be discreet, as the orders instruct
+you."
+
+"You may trust me for that, sir," said the policeman, who dearly loved
+the idea of mysterious importance. "Then I wish you good morning, sir."
+He prepared to go.
+
+"Good morning, Gall--good morning. The butler will give you some ale."
+
+Again Mr. Gall passed his thumb round the inside of his belt, testing the
+local pressure in anticipation of a pint. He made a sort of half-military
+salute at the door and went out. When the squire was alone he rose from
+his chair and paced the room, giving way to the agitation he had
+concealed in the presence of the constable. He was very much disturbed at
+the news of Goddard's escape, as well he might be. Not that he was aware
+that the convict knew of his wife's whereabouts; he did not even suppose
+that Goddard could ascertain for some time where she was living, still
+less that he would boldly present himself in Billingsfield. But it was
+bad enough to know that the man was again at large. So long as he was
+safely lodged in prison, Mrs. Goddard was herself safe; but if once he
+regained his liberty and baffled the police he would certainly end by
+finding out Mary's address and there was no telling to what annoyance,
+to what danger, to what sufferings she might be exposed. Here was a new
+interest, indeed, and one which promised to afford the squire occupation
+until the fellow was caught.
+
+Mr. Juxon knew that he was right in putting the policeman off the track
+in regard to Mrs. Goddard. He himself was a better detective than Gall,
+for he went daily to the cottage and if anything was wrong there, was
+quite sure to discover it. If Goddard ever made his way to Billingsfield
+it could only be for the purpose of seeing his wife, and if he succeeded
+in this, Mrs. Goddard could not conceal it from the squire. She was a
+nervous woman who could not hide her emotions; she would find herself in
+a terrible difficulty and she would perhaps turn to her friend for
+assistance. If Mr. Juxon could lay his hands on Goddard, he flattered
+himself he was much more able to arrest a desperate man than mild-eyed
+Policeman Gall. He had not been at sea for thirty years in vain, and in
+his time he had handled many a rough customer. He debated however upon
+the course he should pursue. As in his opinion it was unlikely that
+Goddard would find out his wife for some time, and improbable that he
+would waste such precious time in looking for her, it seemed far from
+advisable to warn her that the felon had escaped. On the other hand he
+mistrusted his own judgment; if she were not prepared it was just
+possible that the man should come upon her unawares, and the shock of
+seeing him might be very much worse than the shock of being told that he
+was at large. He might consult the vicar.
+
+At first, the old feeling that it would be disloyal to Mrs. Goddard even
+to hint to Mr. Ambrose that he was acquainted with her story withheld him
+from pursuing such a course. But as he turned the matter over in his mind
+it seemed to him that since it was directly for her good, he would now be
+justified in speaking. He liked the vicar and he trusted him. He knew
+that the vicar had been a good friend to Mrs. Goddard and that he would
+stand by her in any difficulty so far as he might be able. The real
+question was how to make sure that the vicar should not tell his wife. If
+Mrs. Ambrose had the least suspicion that anything unusual was occurring,
+she would naturally try and extract information from her husband, and she
+would probably be successful; women, the squire thought, very generally
+succeed in operations of that kind. But if once Mr. Ambrose could be
+consulted without arousing his wife's suspicions, he was a man to be
+trusted. Thereupon Mr. Juxon wrote a note to the vicar, saying that he
+had something of great interest to show him, and begging that, if not
+otherwise engaged, he would come up to the Hall to lunch. When he had
+despatched his messenger, being a man of his word, he went into the
+library to hunt for some rare volume or manuscript which the vicar had
+not yet seen, and which might account in a spirit of rigid veracity for
+the excuse he had given. Meanwhile, as he turned over his rare and
+curious folios he debated further upon his conduct; but having once made
+up his mind to consult Mr. Ambrose, he determined to tell him boldly what
+had occurred, after receiving from him a promise of secrecy. The
+messenger brought back word that the vicar would be delighted to come,
+and at the hour named the sound of wheels upon the gravel announced the
+arrival of Strawberry, the old mare, drawing behind her the vicar and his
+aged henchman, Reynolds, in the traditional vicarage dogcart. A moment
+later the vicar entered the library.
+
+"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire inhospitable
+tones. "I have something to show you and I have something to say to you."
+The two shook hands heartily. Independently of kindred scholarly tastes,
+they were sympathetic to each other and were always glad to meet.
+
+"It is just the weather for bookworms," answered the vicar in cheerful
+tones. "Dear me, I never come here without envying you and wishing that
+life were one long rainy afternoon."
+
+"You know I am inclined to think I am rather an enviable person," said
+Mr. Juxon, slowly passing his hand over his glossy hair and leading his
+guest towards a large table near the fire. Several volumes lay together
+upon the polished mahogany. The squire laid his hand on one of them.
+
+"I have not deceived you," he said. "That is a very interesting volume.
+It is the black letter Paracelsus I once spoke of. I have succeeded in
+getting it at last."
+
+"Dear me! What a piece of fortune!" said Mr. Ambrose bending down until
+his formidable nose almost touched the ancient page.
+
+"Yes," said the squire, "uncommonly lucky as usual. Now, excuse my
+abruptness in changing the subject--I want to consult you upon an
+important matter."
+
+The vicar looked up quickly with that vague, faraway expression which
+comes into the eyes of a student when he is suddenly called away from
+contemplating some object of absorbing interest.
+
+"Certainly," he said, "certainly--a--by all means."
+
+"It is about Mrs. Goddard," said the squire, looking hard at his visitor.
+"Of course it is between ourselves," he added.
+
+The vicar's long upper lip descended upon its fellow and he bent his
+rough grey eyebrows, returning Mr. Juxon's sharp look with interest. He
+could not imagine what the squire could have to say about Mrs. Goddard,
+unless, like poor John, he had fallen in love with her and wanted to
+marry her; which appeared improbable.
+
+"What is it?" he said sharply.
+
+"I daresay you do not know that I am acquainted with her story," began
+Mr. Juxon. "Do not be surprised. She saw fit to tell it me herself."
+
+"Indeed?" exclaimed the vicar in considerable astonishment. In that case,
+he argued quickly, Mr. Juxon was not thinking of marrying her.
+
+"Yes--it is not necessary to go into that," said Mr. Juxon quickly. "The
+thing I want to tell you is this--Goddard the forger has escaped--"
+
+"Escaped?" echoed the vicar in real alarm. "You don't mean to say so!"
+
+"Gall the constable came here this morning," continued Mr. Juxon. "He
+told me that there were general orders out for his arrest."
+
+"How in the world did he get out?" cried the vicar. "I thought nobody was
+ever known to escape from Portland!"
+
+"So did I. But this fellow has--somehow. Gall did not know. Now, the
+question is, what is to be done?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know," returned the vicar, thrusting his hands into
+his pockets and marching to the window, the wide skirts of his coat
+seeming to wave with agitation as he walked.
+
+Mr. Juxon also put his hands into his pockets, but he stood still upon
+the hearth-rug and looked at the ceiling, softly whistling a little tune,
+a habit he had in moments of great anxiety. For three or four minutes
+neither of the two spoke.
+
+"Would you tell Mrs. Goddard--or not?" asked Mr. Juxon at last.
+
+"I don't know," said the vicar. "I am amazed beyond measure." He turned
+and slowly came back to the table.
+
+"I don't know either," replied the squire. "That is precisely the point
+upon which I think we ought to decide. I have known about the story for
+some time, but I did not anticipate that it would take this turn."
+
+"I think," said Mr. Ambrose after another pause, "I think that if there
+is any likelihood of the fellow finding her out, we ought to tell her. If
+not I think we had better wait until he is caught. He is sure to be
+caught, of course."
+
+"I entirely agree with you," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only--how on earth are
+we to find out whether he is likely to come here or not? If any one knows
+where he is, he is as good as caught already. If nobody knows, we can
+certainly have no means of telling."
+
+The argument was unanswerable. Again there was a long silence. The vicar
+walked about the room in great perplexity.
+
+"Dear me! Dear me! What a terrible business!" he repeated, over and over
+again.
+
+"Do you think we are called upon to do anything?" he asked at last,
+stopping in his walk immediately in front of Mr. Juxon.
+
+"If we can do anything to save Mrs. Goddard from annoyance or further
+trouble, we are undoubtedly called upon to do it," replied the squire.
+"If that wretch finds her out, he will try to break into the cottage at
+night and force her to give him money."
+
+"Do you really think so? Dear me! I hope he will do no such thing!"
+
+"So do I, I am sure," said Mr. Juxon, with a grim smile. "But if he finds
+her out, he will. I almost think it would be better to tell her in any
+case."
+
+"But think of the anxiety she will be in until he is caught!" cried the
+vicar. "She will be expecting him every day--every night. Well--I suppose
+we might tell Gall to watch the house."
+
+"That will not do," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be a great injustice
+to allow Gall or any of the people in the village to know anything about
+her. She might be subjected to all kinds of insult. You know what these
+people are. A 'real lady,' who is at the same time the wife of a convict,
+is a thing they can hardly understand. I am sure both you and I secretly
+flatter ourselves that we have shown an unusual amount of good sense and
+generosity in understanding her position as we do."
+
+"I daresay we do," said the vicar with a smile. He was too honest to deny
+it. "Indeed it took me some time to get used to the idea myself."
+
+"Precisely. The village people would never get used to it. Of all things
+to do, we should certainly not tell Gall, who is an old woman and a great
+chatterbox. I wish you could have heard his statement this morning--it
+filled me with admiration for the local police, I assure you. But--I
+think it would be better to tell her. I did not think so before you came,
+I believe. But talking always brings the truth out."
+
+The vicar hesitated, rising and falling upon his toes and heels in
+profound thought, after his manner.
+
+"I daresay you are right," he said at last. "Will you do it? Or shall I?"
+
+"I would rather not," said the squire, thoughtfully. "You know her
+better, you have known her much longer than I."
+
+"But she will ask me where I heard of it," objected the vicar. "I shall
+be obliged to say that you told me. That will be as bad as though you
+told her yourself."
+
+"You need not say you heard it from me. You can say that Gall has
+received instructions to look out for Goddard. She will not question you
+any further, I am sure."
+
+"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Juxon," said the vicar.
+
+"I would much rather that you told her, Mr. Ambrose," said the squire,
+almost in the same breath. Both laughed a little.
+
+"Not that I would not do it at once, if necessary," added Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Or I, in a moment," said Mr. Ambrose.
+
+"Of course," returned Mr. Juxon. "Only it is such a very delicate matter,
+you see."
+
+"Dear me, yes," murmured the vicar, "a most delicate matter. Poor lady!"
+
+"Poor lady!" echoed the squire. "But I suppose it must be done."
+
+"Oh yes--we cannot do otherwise," answered Mr. Ambrose, still hoping that
+his companion would volunteer to perform the disagreeable office.
+
+"Well then, will you--will you do it?" asked Mr. Juxon, anxious to have
+the matter decided.
+
+"Why not go together?" suggested the vicar.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon firmly. "It would be an intolerable ordeal for the
+poor woman. I think I see your objection. Perhaps you think that Mrs.
+Ambrose--"
+
+"Exactly, Mrs. Ambrose," echoed the vicar with a grim smile.
+
+"Oh precisely--then I will do it," said the squire. And he forthwith did,
+and was very much surprised at the result.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Juxon walked down towards the
+cottage, accompanied by the vicar. In spite of their mutual anxiety to be
+of service to Mrs. Goddard, when they had once decided how to act they
+had easily fallen into conversation about other matters, the black letter
+Paracelsus had received its full share of attention and many another rare
+volume had been brought out and examined. Neither the vicar nor his host
+believed that there was any hurry; if Goddard ever succeeded in getting
+to Billingsfield it would not be to-day, nor to-morrow either.
+
+The weather had suddenly changed; the east was already clear and over the
+west, where the sun was setting in a fiery mist, the huge clouds were
+banked up against the bright sky, fringed with red and purple, but no
+longer threatening rain or snow. The air was sharp and the plentiful mud
+in the roads was already crusted with a brittle casing of ice.
+
+The squire took leave of Mr. Ambrose at the turning where the road led
+into the village and then walked back to the cottage. Even his solid
+nerves were a little unsettled at the prospect of the interview
+before him; but he kept a stout heart and asked for Mrs. Goddard in his
+usual quiet voice. Martha told him that Mrs. Goddard had a bad headache,
+but on inquiry found that she would see the squire. He entered the
+drawing-room softly and went forward to greet her; she was sitting in a
+deep chair propped by cushions.
+
+Mary Goddard had spent a miserable day. The grey morning light seemed to
+reveal her troubles and fears in a new and more terrible aspect. During
+the long hours of darkness it seemed as though those things were
+mercifully hidden which the strong glare of day must inevitably reveal,
+and when the night was fairly past she thought all the world must surely
+know that Walter Goddard had escaped and that his wife had seen him.
+Hourly she expected a ringing at the bell, announcing the visit of a
+party of detectives on his track; every sound startled her and her nerves
+were strung to such a pitch that she heard with supernatural acuteness.
+She had indeed two separate causes for fear. The one was due to her
+anxiety for Goddard's safety; the other to her apprehensions for Nellie.
+She had long determined that at all hazards the child must be kept from
+the knowledge of her father's disgrace, by being made to believe in his
+death. It was a falsehood indeed, but such a falsehood as may surely be
+forgiven to a woman as unhappy as Mary Goddard. It seemed monstrous that
+the innocent child, who seemed not even to have inherited her father's
+looks or temper, should be brought up with the perpetual sense of her
+disgrace before her, should be forced to listen to explanations of her
+father's crimes and tutored to the comprehension of an inherited shame.
+From the first Mary Goddard had concealed the whole matter from the
+little girl, and when Walter was at last convicted, she had told her that
+her father was dead. Dead he might be, she thought, before twelve years
+were out, and Nellie would be none the wiser. In twelve years from the
+time of his conviction Nellie would be in her twenty-first year; if it
+were ever necessary to tell her, it would be time enough then, for the
+girl would have at least enjoyed her youth, free of care and of the
+horrible consciousness of a great crime hanging over her head. No child
+could grow up in such a state as that implied. No mind could develop
+healthily under the perpetual pressure of so hideous a secret; from her
+earliest childhood her impressions would be warped, her imagination
+darkened and her mental growth stunted. It would be a great cruelty to
+tell her the truth; it was a great mercy to tell her the falsehood. It
+was no selfish timidity which had prompted Mary Goddard, but a carefully
+weighed consideration for the welfare of her child.
+
+If now, within these twenty-four hours, Nellie should discover who the
+poor tramp was, who had frightened her so much on the previous evening,
+all this would be at an end. The child's life would be made desolate for
+ever. She would never recover from the shock, and to injure lovely Nellie
+so bitterly would be worse to Mary Goddard than to be obliged to bear the
+sharpest suffering herself. For, from the day when she had waked to a
+comprehension of her husband's baseness, the love for her child had taken
+in her breast the place of the love for Walter.
+
+She did not think connectedly; she did not realise her fears; she was
+almost wholly unstrung. But she had procured the fifty pounds her husband
+required and she waited for the night with a dull hope that all might yet
+be well--as well as anything so horrible could be. If only her husband
+were not caught in Billingsfield it would not be so bad, perhaps. And yet
+it may be that her wisest course would have been to betray him that very
+night. Many just men would have said so; but there are few women who
+would do it. There are few indeed, so stonyhearted as to betray a man
+once loved in such a case; and Mary Goddard in her wildest fear never
+dreamed of giving up the fugitive. She sat all day in her chair, wishing
+that the day were over, praying that she might be spared any further
+suffering or that at least it might be spared to her child whom she so
+loved. She had sent Nellie down to the vicarage with Martha. Mrs. Ambrose
+loved Nellie better than she loved Nellie's mother, and there was a
+standing invitation for her to spend the afternoons at the vicarage.
+Nellie said her mother had a terrible headache and wanted to be alone.
+
+But when the squire came Mrs. Goddard thought it wiser to see him. She
+had, of course, no intention of confiding to him an account of the events
+of the previous night, but she felt that if she could talk to him for
+half an hour she would be stronger. He was himself so strong and honest
+that he inspired her with courage. She knew, also, that if she were
+driven to the extremity of confiding in any one she would choose Mr.
+Juxon rather than Mr. Ambrose. The vicar had been her first friend and
+she owed him much; but the squire had won her confidence by his noble
+generosity after she had told him her story. She said to herself that he
+was more of a man than the vicar. And now he had come to her at the time
+of her greatest distress, and she was glad to see him.
+
+Mr. Juxon entered the room softly, feeling that he was in the presence of
+a sick person. Mrs. Goddard turned her pathetic face towards him and held
+out her hand.
+
+"I am so glad to see you," she said, trying to seem cheerful.
+
+"I fear you are ill, Mrs. Goddard," answered the squire, looking at her
+anxiously and then seating himself by her side. "Martha told me you had a
+headache--I hope it is not serious."
+
+"Oh no--not serious. Only a headache," she said with a smile so unlike
+her own that Mr. Juxon began to feel nervous. His resolution to tell her
+his errand began to waver; it seemed cruel, he thought, to disturb a
+person who was evidently so ill with a matter so serious. He remembered
+that she had almost fainted on a previous occasion when she had spoken to
+him of her husband. She had not been ill then; there was no knowing what
+the effect of a shock to her nerves might be at present. He sat still in
+silence for some moments, twisting his hat upon his knee.
+
+"Do not be disturbed about me," said Mrs. Goddard presently. "It will
+pass very quickly. I shall be quite well to-morrow--I hope," she added
+with a shudder.
+
+"I am very much disturbed about you," returned Mr. Juxon in an unusually
+grave tone. Mrs. Goddard looked at him quickly, and was surprised when
+she saw the expression on his face. He looked sad, and at the same time
+perplexed.
+
+"Oh, pray don't be!" she exclaimed as though deprecating further remark
+upon her ill health.
+
+"I wish I knew," said the squire with some hesitation, "whether--whether
+you are really very ill. I mean, of course, I know you have a bad
+headache, a very bad headache, as I can see. But--indeed, Mrs. Goddard, I
+have something of importance to say."
+
+"Something of importance?" she repeated, staring hard at him.
+
+"Yes--but it will keep till to-morrow, if you would rather not hear it
+now," he replied, looking at her doubtfully.
+
+"I would rather hear it now," she answered after some seconds of silence.
+Her heart beat fast.
+
+"You were good enough some time ago to tell me about--Mr. Goddard," began
+Mr. Juxon in woeful trepidation.
+
+"Yes," answered his companion under her breath. Her hands were clasped
+tightly together upon her knees and her eyes sought the squire's
+anxiously and then looked away again in fear.
+
+"Well, it is about him," continued Mr. Juxon in a gentle voice. "Would
+you rather put it off? It is--well, rather startling."
+
+Mrs. Goddard closed her eyes, like a person expecting to suffer some
+terrible pain. She thought Mr. Juxon was going to tell her that Walter
+had been captured in the village.
+
+"Mr. Goddard has escaped," said the squire, making a bold plunge with the
+whole truth. The sick lady trembled violently, and unclasping her hands
+laid them upon the arms of her chair as though to steady herself to bear
+the worse shock to come. But Mr. Juxon was silent. He had told her all he
+knew.
+
+"Yes," she said faintly. "Is there anything--anything more?" Her voice
+was barely audible in the still and dusky room.
+
+"No--except that, of course, there are orders out for his arrest, all
+over the country."
+
+"He has not been arrested yet?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She had expected to
+hear that he was caught; she thought the squire was trying to break the
+shock of the news. Her courage rose a little now.
+
+"No, he is not arrested--but I have no doubt he soon will be," added Mr.
+Juxon in a tone intended to convey encouragement.
+
+"How did you hear this?"
+
+"Gall the policeman, told me this morning. I--I am afraid I have
+something else to confess to you, Mrs. Goddard, I trust you will not--"
+
+"What?" she asked so suddenly as to startle him. Walter might have been
+heard of in the neighbourhood, perhaps.
+
+"I think I was right," continued Mr. Juxon. "I hope you will forgive me.
+It does not seem quite loyal, but I did not know what to do. I consulted
+the vicar as to whether we should tell you."
+
+"The vicar? What did he say?" Again Mrs. Goddard felt relieved.
+
+"He quite agreed with me," answered the squire. "You see we feared that
+Mr. Goddard might find his way here and come upon you suddenly. We
+thought you would be terribly pained and startled."
+
+Mrs. Goddard could almost have laughed at that moment. The excellent man
+had taken all this trouble in order to save her from the very thing which
+had already occurred on the previous night. There was a bitter humour in
+the situation, in the squire's kind-hearted way of breaking to her that
+news which she already knew so well, in his willingness to put off
+telling her until the morrow. What would Mr. Juxon say, could he guess
+that she had herself already spoken with her husband and had promised to
+see him again that very night! Forgetting that his last words required an
+answer, she leaned back in her chair and again folded her hands before
+her. Her eyes were half closed and from beneath the drooping lids she
+gazed through the gathering gloom at the squire's anxious face.
+
+"I hope you think I did right," said the latter in considerable doubt.
+
+"Quite right. I think you were both very kind to think of me as you did,"
+said she.
+
+"I am sure, I always think of you," answered Mr. Juxon simply. "I hope
+that this thing will have no further consequences. Of course, until we
+know of Mr. Goddard's whereabouts we shall feel very anxious. It seems
+probable that if he can get here unobserved he will do so. He will
+probably ask you for some money."
+
+"Do you really think he could get here at all?" asked Mrs. Goddard. She
+wanted to hear what he would say, for she thought she might judge from
+his words whether her husband ran any great risk.
+
+"Oh no," replied the squire. "I think it is very improbable. I fear this
+news has sadly disturbed you, Mrs. Goddard, but let us hope all may turn
+out for the best." Indeed he thought she showed very little surprise,
+though she had evidently been much moved. Perhaps she had been accustomed
+to expect that her husband might one day escape. She was ill, too, and
+her nerves were unstrung, he supposed.
+
+She had really passed through a very violent emotion, but it had not been
+caused by her surprise, but by her momentary fear for the fugitive,
+instantly allayed by Mr. Juxon's explanation. She felt that for to-day at
+least Walter was safe, and by to-morrow he would be safe out of the
+neighbourhood. But she reflected that it was necessary to say something;
+that if she appeared to receive the news too indifferently the squire's
+suspicions might be aroused with fatal results.
+
+"It is a terrible thing," she said presently. "You see I am not at all
+myself."
+
+It was not easy for her to act a part. The words were commonplace.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon, "I see you are not." He on his part, instead of
+looking for a stronger expression of fear or astonishment, was now only
+too glad that she should be so calm.
+
+"Would you advise me to do anything?" she asked presently.
+
+"There is nothing to be done," he answered quickly, glad of a chance to
+relieve the embarrassment of the situation. "Of course we might put you
+under the protection of the police but--what is the matter, Mrs.
+Goddard?" She had started as though in pain.
+
+"Only this dreadful headache," she said. "Go on please."
+
+"Well, we might set Gall the policeman to watch your house; but that
+would be very unpleasant for you. It would be like telling him and all
+the village people of your situation--"
+
+"Oh don't! Please don't!"
+
+"No, certainly not. I think it very unwise. Besides--" he stopped short.
+He was about to say that he felt much better able to watch over Mrs.
+Goddard himself than Gall the constable could possibly be; but he checked
+himself in time.
+
+"Besides--what?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing--Gall is not much of a policeman, that is all. I do not believe
+you would be any the safer for his protection. But you must promise me,
+my dear Mrs. Goddard, that if anything occurs you will let me know. I may
+be of some assistance."
+
+"Thank you, so much," said she. "You are always so kind!"
+
+"Not at all. I am very glad if you think I was right to tell you about
+it."
+
+"Oh, quite right," she answered. "And now, Mr. Juxon, I am really not at
+all well. All this has quite unnerved me--"
+
+"You want me to go?" said the squire smiling kindly as he rose. "Yes, I
+understand. Well, good-bye, my dear friend--I hope everything will
+clear up."
+
+"Good-bye. Thank you again. You always do understand me," she answered
+giving him her small cold hand. "Don't think me ungrateful," she added,
+looking up into his eyes.
+
+"No indeed--not that there is anything to be grateful for."
+
+In a moment more he was gone, feeling that he had done his duty like a
+man, and that it had not been so hard after all. He was glad it was done,
+however, and he felt that he could face the vicar with a bold front at
+their next meeting. He went quickly down the path and crossed the road to
+his own gate with a light step. As he entered the park he was not aware
+of a wretched-looking tramp who slouched along the quickset hedge and
+watched his retreating figure far up the avenue, till he was out of sight
+among the leafless trees. If Stamboul had been with the squire the tramp
+would certainly not have passed unnoticed; but for some days the roads
+had been so muddy that Stamboul had been left behind when Mr. Juxon made
+his visits to the cottage, lest the great hound should track the mud into
+the spotless precincts of the passage. The tramp stood still and looked
+after the squire so long as he could see him, and then slunk off across
+the wet meadows, where the standing water was now skimmed with ice.
+
+Walter Goddard had spent the day in watching for the squire and he had
+seen him at last. He had seen him go down the road with the vicar till
+they were both out of sight, and he had seen him come back and enter the
+cottage. This proceeding, he argued, betrayed that the squire did not
+wish to be seen going into Mary's house by the vicar. The tortuous
+intelligences of bad men easily impute to others courses which they
+themselves would naturally pursue. Three words on the previous evening
+had sufficed to rouse the convict's jealousy. What he saw to-day
+confirmed his suspicions. The gentleman in knickerbockers could be no
+other than the squire himself, of course. He was evidently in the habit
+of visiting Mary Goddard and he did not wish his visits to be observed by
+the clergyman, who was of course the vicar or rector of the parish. That
+proved conclusively in the fugitive's mind that there was something
+wrong. He ground his teeth together and said to himself that it would be
+worth while to run some risk in order to stop that little game, as he
+expressed it. He had, as he himself had confessed to his wife, murdered
+one man in escaping; a man, he reflected, could only hang once, and if he
+had not been taken in the streets of London he was not likely to be
+caught in the high street of Billingsfield, Essex. It would be a great
+satisfaction to knock the squire on the head before he went any farther.
+Moreover he had found a wonderfully safe retreat in the disused vault at
+the back of the church. He discovered loose stones inside the place which
+he could pile up against the low hole which served for an entrance.
+Probably no one knew that there was any entrance at all--the very
+existence of the vault was most likely forgotten. It was not a cheerful
+place, but Goddard's nerves were excited to a pitch far beyond the reach
+of supernatural fears. Whatever he might be condemned to feel in the
+future, his conscience troubled him very little in the present. The vault
+was comparatively dry and was in every way preferable, as a resting-place
+for one night, to the interior of a mouldy haystack in the open fields.
+He did not dare show himself again at the "Feathers" inn, lest he should
+be held to do the day's work he had promised in payment for his night in
+the barn. All that morning and afternoon he had lain hidden in the
+quickset hedge near the park gate, within sight of the cottage, and he
+had been rewarded. The food he had taken with him the night before had
+sufficed him and he had quenched his thirst with rain-water from the
+ditch. Having seen that the squire went back towards the Hall, Goddard
+slunk away to his hiding-place to wait for the night. He lay down as best
+he might, and listened for the hours and half-hours as the church clock
+tolled them out from the lofty tower above.
+
+Mary Goddard had told him to come later than before, and it was after
+half-past ten when he tapped upon the shutter of the little drawing-room.
+All was dark within, and he held his breath as he stood among the wet
+creepers, listening intently for the sound of his wife's coming.
+Presently the glass window inside was opened.
+
+"Is that you?" asked Mary's voice in a tremulous whisper.
+
+"Yes," he answered. "Let me in." Then the shutter was cautiously
+unfastened and opened a little and in the dim starlight Goddard
+recognised his wife's pale face. Her hand went out to him, with something
+in it.
+
+"There is the money," she whispered. "Go as quickly as you can. They are
+looking for you--there are orders out to arrest you."
+
+Goddard seized her fingers and took the money. She would have withdrawn
+her hand but he held it firmly.
+
+"Who told you that they were after me?" he asked in a fierce whisper.
+
+"Mr. Juxon--let me go."
+
+"Mr. Juxon!" The convict uttered a rough oath. "Your friend Mr. Juxon,
+eh? He is after me, is he? Tell him--"
+
+"Hush, hush!" she whispered. "He has no idea you are here--"
+
+"I should think not," muttered Walter. "He would not be sneaking in here
+on the sly to see you if he knew I were about!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Mary. "Oh, Walter, let me go--you hurt me so!"
+He held her fingers as in a vice.
+
+"Hurt you! I wish I could strangle you and him too! Ha, you thought I was
+not looking this afternoon when he came! He went to the corner of the
+road with the parson, and when the parson was out of sight he came back!
+I saw you!"
+
+"You saw nothing!" answered his wife desperately. "How can you say so! If
+you knew how kind he has been, what a loyal gentleman he is, you would
+not dare to say such things."
+
+"You used to say I was a loyal gentleman, Mary," retorted the convict. "I
+daresay he is of the same stamp as I. Look here, Mary, if I catch this
+loyal gentleman coming here any more I will cut his throat--so look out!"
+
+"You do not mean to say you are going to remain here any longer, in
+danger of your life?" said Mary in great alarm.
+
+"Well--a man can only hang once. Give me some more of that bread and
+cheese, Mary. It was exceedingly good."
+
+"Then let me go," said his wife, trembling with horror at the threat she
+had just heard.
+
+"Oh yes. I will let you go. But I will just hold the window open in case
+you don't come back soon enough. Look sharp!"
+
+There was no need to hurry the unfortunate woman. In less than three
+minutes she returned, bringing a "quartern" loaf and a large piece of
+cheese. She thrust them out upon the window-sill and withdrew her hand
+before he could catch it. But he held the window open.
+
+"Now go!" she said. "I cannot do more for you--for God's sake go!"
+
+"You seem very anxious to see the last of me," he whispered. "I daresay
+if I am hanged you will get a ticket to see me turned off. Yes--we
+mention those things rather freely up in town. Don't be alarmed. I will
+come back to-morrow night--you had better listen. If you had shown a
+little more heart, I would have been satisfied, but you are so stony that
+I think I would like another fifty pounds to-morrow night. Those notes
+are so deliciously crisp--"
+
+"Listen, Walter!" said Mary. "Unless you promise to go I will raise an
+alarm at once. I can face shame again well enough. I will have you--hush!
+For God's sake--hush! There is somebody coming!"
+
+The convict's quick ear had caught the sound. Instantly he knelt and then
+lay down at full length upon the ground below the window. It was a fine
+night and the conscientious Mr. Gall was walking his beat. The steady
+tramp of his heavy shoes had something ominous in it which struck terror
+into the heart of the wretched fugitive. With measured tread he came from
+the direction of the village. Reaching the cottage he paused and dimly in
+the starlight Mrs. Goddard could distinguish his glazed hat--the
+provincial constabulary still wore hats in those days. Mr. Gall stood not
+fifteen yards from the cottage, failed to observe that a window was
+open on the lower floor, nodded to himself as though satisfied with his
+inspection and walked on. Little by little the sound of his steps grew
+fainter in the distance. Walter slowly raised himself again from the
+ground, and put his head in at the window.
+
+"You see it would not be hard to have you caught," whispered his wife,
+still breathless with the passing excitement. "That was the policeman. If
+I had called him, it would have been all over with you. I tell you if you
+try to come again I will give you up."
+
+"Oh, that's the way you treat me, is it?" said the convict with another
+oath. "Then you had better look out for your dear Mr. Juxon, that's all."
+
+Without another word, Goddard glided away from the window, let himself
+out by the wicket gate and disappeared across the road.
+
+Mary Goddard was in that moment less horrified by her husband's threat
+than by his base ingratitude to herself and by the accusation he seemed
+to make against her. Worn out with the emotions of fear and anxiety, she
+had barely the strength to close and fasten the window. Then she sank
+into the first chair she could find in the dark and stared into the
+blackness around her. It seemed indeed more than she could bear. She was
+placed in the terrible position of being obliged to betray her fugitive
+husband, or of living in constant fear lest he should murder the best
+friend she had in the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+On the morning after the events last described Mr. Ambrose sat at
+breakfast opposite his wife. The early post had just arrived, bringing
+the usual newspaper and two letters.
+
+"Any news, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Ambrose with great suavity, as she
+rinsed her teacup in the bowl preparatory to repeating the dose. "Is not
+it time that we should hear from John?"
+
+"There is a letter from him, strange to say. Wait a minute--my dear, the
+Tripos is over and he wants to know if he may stop here--"
+
+"The Tripos over already! How has he done? Do tell me, Augustin!"
+
+"He does not know," returned the vicar, quickly looking over the
+contents of the letter. "The lists are not out--he thinks he has done
+very well--he has had a hint that he is high up--wants to know whether he
+may stop on his way to London--he is going to see his father--"
+
+"Of course he shall come," said Mrs. Ambrose with enthusiasm. "He must
+stop here till the lists are published and then we shall know--anything
+else?"
+
+"The other is a note from a tutor of his side--my old friend Brown--he is
+very enthusiastic; says it is an open secret that John will be at the
+head of the list--begins to congratulate. Well, my dear, this is very
+satisfactory, very flattering."
+
+"One might say very delightful, Augustin."
+
+"Delightful, yes quite delightful," replied the vicar, burying his long
+nose in his teacup.
+
+"I only hope it may be true. I was afraid that perhaps John had done
+himself harm by coming here at Christmas. Young men are so very
+light-headed, are they not, Augustin?" added Mrs. Ambrose with a prim
+smile. On rare occasions she had alluded to John's unfortunate passion
+for Mrs. Goddard, and when she spoke of the subject she had a tendency to
+assume something of the stiffness she affected towards strangers. As has
+been seen she had ceased to blame Mrs. Goddard. Generally speaking the
+absent are in the wrong in such matters; she could not refer to John's
+conduct without a touch of severity. But the Reverend Augustin bent his
+shaggy brows; John was now successful, probably senior classic--it was
+evidently no time to censure his behaviour.
+
+"You must be charitable, my dear," he said, looking sharply at his wife.
+"We have all been young once you know."
+
+"Augustin, I am surprised at you!" said Mrs. Ambrose sternly.
+
+"For saying that I once was young?" inquired her husband. "Strange and
+paradoxical as such a statement must appear, I was once a baby."
+
+"I think your merriment very unseemly," objected Mrs. Ambrose in a tone
+of censure. "Because you were once a baby it does not follow that you
+ever acted in such a very foolish way about a--"
+
+"My dear," interrupted the vicar, handing his cup across the table, "I
+wish you would leave John alone, and give me another cup of tea. John
+will be here to-morrow. Let us receive him as we should. He has done us
+credit."
+
+"He will never be received otherwise in this house, Augustin," replied
+Mrs. Ambrose, "whether you allow me to speak my mind or not. I am aware
+that Short has done us credit, as you express it. I only hope he always
+may do us credit in the future. I am sure, I was like a mother to him. He
+ought never to forget it. Why, my dear, cannot you remember how I always
+had his buttons looked to and gave him globules when he wanted them? I
+think he might show some gratitude."
+
+"I do not think he has failed to show it," retorted the vicar.
+
+"Oh, well, Augustin, if you are going to talk like that it is not
+possible to argue with you; but he shall be welcome, if he comes. I hope,
+however, that he will not go to the cottage--"
+
+"My dear, I have a funeral this morning. I wish you would not disturb my
+mind with these trifles."
+
+"Trifles! Who is dead? You did not tell me."
+
+"Poor Judd's baby, of course. We have spoken of it often enough, I am
+sure."
+
+"Oh yes, of course. Poor Tom Judd!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambrose with genuine
+sympathy. "It seems to me you are always burying his babies, Augustin!
+It is very sad."
+
+"Not always, my dear. Frequently," said the vicar correcting her. "It is
+very sad, as you say. Very sad. You took so much trouble to help them
+this time, too."
+
+"Trouble!" Mrs. Ambrose cast up her eyes. "You don't know how much
+trouble. But I am quite sure it was the fault of that brazen-faced
+doctor. I cannot bear the sight of him! That comes of answering
+advertisements in the newspapers."
+
+The present doctor had bought the practice abandoned by Mrs. Ambrose's
+son-in-law. He had paid well for it, but his religious principles had not
+formed a part of the bargain.
+
+"It is of no use to cry over spilt milk, my dear."
+
+"I do not mean to. No, I never do. But it is very unpleasant to have such
+people about. I really hope Tom Judd will not lose his next baby. When
+is John coming?"
+
+"To-morrow. My dear, if I forget it this morning, will you remember to
+speak to Reynolds about the calf?"
+
+"Certainly, Augustin," said his wife. Therewith the good vicar left her
+and went to bury Tom Judd's baby, divided in his mind between rejoicing
+over his favourite pupil's success and lamenting, as he sincerely did,
+the misfortunes which befell his parishioners. When he left the
+churchyard an hour later he was met by Martha, who came from the cottage
+with a message begging that the vicar would come to Mrs. Goddard as soon
+as possible. Martha believed her mistress was ill, she wanted to see Mr.
+Ambrose at once. Without returning to the vicarage he turned to the left
+towards the cottage.
+
+Mrs. Goddard had slept that night, being exhausted and almost broken down
+with fatigue. But she woke only to a sense of the utmost pain and
+distress, realising that to-day's anxiety was harder to bear than
+yesterday's, and that to-morrow might bring forth even worse disasters
+than those which had gone before. Her position was one of extreme doubt
+and peril. To tell any one that her husband was in the neighbourhood
+seemed to be equivalent to rooting out the very last remnant of
+consideration for him which remained in her heart, the very last trace of
+what had once been the chief joy and delight of her life. She hesitated
+long. There is perhaps nothing in human nature more enduring than the
+love of man and wife; or perhaps one should rather say than the love of a
+woman for her husband. There appear to be some men capable of being so
+completely estranged from their wives that there positively does not
+remain in them even the faintest recollection of what they have once
+felt, nor the possibility of feeling the least pity for what the women
+they once loved so well may suffer. There is no woman, I believe, who
+having once loved her husband truly, could see him in pain or distress,
+or in danger of his life, without earnestly endeavouring to help him. A
+woman may cease to love her husband; in some cases she is right in
+forgetting her love, but it would be hard to find a case where, were he
+the worst criminal alive, had he deceived her a thousand times, she would
+not at least help him to escape from his pursuers or give him a crust to
+save him from starvation.
+
+Mary Goddard had done her best for the wretch who had claimed her
+assistance. She had fed him, provided him with money, refused to betray
+him. But if it were to be a question of giving him up to the law, or of
+allowing her best friend to be murdered by him, or even seriously
+injured, she felt that pity must be at an end. It would be doubtless a
+very horrible thing to give him up, and she had gathered from what he had
+said that if he were taken he would pay the last penalty of the law. It
+was so awful a thing that she groaned when she thought of it. But she
+remembered his ghastly face in the starlight and the threat he had hissed
+out against the squire; he was a desperate man, with blood already on his
+hands. It was more than likely that he would do the deed he had
+threatened to do. What could be easier than to watch the squire on one of
+those evenings when he went up the park alone, to fall upon him and take
+his life? Of late Mr. Juxon did not even take his dog with him. The
+savage bloodhound would be a good protector; but even when he took
+Stamboul with him by day, he never brought him at night. It was too long
+for the beast to wait, he used to say, from six to nine or half past; he
+was so savage that he did not care to leave him out of his sight; he
+brought mud into the cottage, or into the vicarage as the case might
+be--if Stamboul had been an ordinary dog it would have been different.
+Those Russian bloodhounds were not to be trifled with. But the squire
+must be warned of his danger before another night came on.
+
+It was a difficult question. Mrs. Goddard at first thought of telling him
+herself; but she shrank from the thought, for she was exhausted and
+overwrought. A few days ago she would have been brave enough to say
+anything if necessary, but now she had no longer the courage nor the
+strength. It seemed so hard to face the squire with such a warning; it
+seemed as though she were doing something which would make her seem
+ungrateful in his eyes, though she hardly knew why it seemed so. She
+turned more naturally to the vicar, to whom she had originally come in
+her first great distress; she had only once consulted him, but that one
+occasion seemed to establish a precedent in her mind, the precedent of a
+thing familiar. It would certainly be easier. After much thought and
+inward debate, she determined to send for Mr. Ambrose.
+
+The fatigue and anxiety she had undergone during the last two days had
+wrought great changes in her face. A girl of eighteen or twenty years may
+gain delicacy and even beauty from the physical effects of grief, but a
+woman over thirty years old gains neither. Mrs. Goddard's complexion,
+naturally pale, had taken a livid hue; her lips, which were never very
+red, were almost white; heavy purple shadows darkened her eyes; the two
+or three lines that were hardly noticeable, but which were the natural
+result of a sad expression in her face, had in two days become distinctly
+visible and had almost assumed the proportions of veritable wrinkles. Her
+features were drawn and pinched--she looked ten years older than she was.
+Nothing remained of her beauty but her soft waving brown hair and her
+deep, pathetic, violet eyes. Even her small hands seemed to have grown
+thin and looked unnaturally white and transparent.
+
+She was sitting in her favourite chair by the fire, when the vicar
+arrived. She had not been willing to seem ill, in spite of what Martha
+had said, and she had refused to put cushions in the chair. She was
+making an effort, and even a little sense of physical discomfort helped
+to make the effort seem easier. She was so much exhausted that she felt
+she must not for one moment relax the tension she imposed upon herself
+lest her whole remaining strength should suddenly collapse and leave her
+at the mercy of events. But Mr. Ambrose was startled when he saw her and
+feared that she was very ill.
+
+"My dear Mrs. Goddard," he said, "what is the matter? Are you ill? Has
+anything happened?"
+
+As he spoke he changed the form of his question, suddenly recollecting
+that Mr. Juxon had probably on the previous afternoon told her of her
+husband's escape, as he had meant to do. This might be the cause of her
+indisposition.
+
+"Yes," she said in a voice that did not sound like her own, "I have asked
+you to come because I am in great trouble--in desperate trouble."
+
+"Dear me," said the vicar, "I hope not!"
+
+"Not desperate? Perhaps not. Dear Mr. Ambrose, you have always been so
+kind to me--I am sure you can help me now." Her voice trembled.
+
+"Indeed I will do my best," said the vicar who judged from so unusual an
+outburst that there must be really something wrong. "If you could tell me
+what it is--" he suggested.
+
+"That is the hardest part of it," said the unhappy woman. She paused a
+moment as though to collect her strength. "You know," she began again,
+"that my husband has escaped?"
+
+"A terrible business!" exclaimed the good man, nodding, however, in
+affirmation to the question she asked.
+
+"I have seen him," said Mary Goddard very faintly, looking down at her
+thin hands. The vicar started in astonishment.
+
+"My dear friend--dear me! Dear, dear, how very painful!"
+
+"Indeed, you do not know what I have suffered. It is most dreadful, Mr.
+Ambrose. You cannot imagine what a struggle it was. I am quite worn out."
+
+She spoke with such evident pain that the vicar was moved. He felt that
+she had more to tell, but he had hardly recovered from his surprise.
+
+"But, you know," he said, "that was the whole object of warning you. We
+did not really believe that he would come here. We were so much afraid
+that he would startle you. Of course Mr. Juxon told you he consulted
+me--"
+
+"Of course," answered Mrs. Goddard. "It was too late. I had seen him the
+night before."
+
+"Why, that was the very night we were here!" exclaimed Mr. Ambrose, more
+and more amazed. Mrs. Goddard nodded. She seemed hardly able to speak.
+
+"He came and knocked at that window," she said, very faintly. "He came
+again last night."
+
+"Dear me--I will send for Gall at once; he will have no difficulty in
+arresting him--"
+
+"Oh please!" interrupted Mrs. Goddard in hysterical tones. "Please,
+please, dear Mr. Ambrose, don't!"
+
+The vicar was silent. He rose unceremoniously from his chair and walked
+to the window, as he generally did when in any great doubt. He realised
+at once and very vividly the awful position in which the poor lady was
+placed.
+
+"Pray do not think I am very bad," said she, almost sobbing with fear and
+emotion. "Of course it must seem dreadful to you that I should wish him
+to escape!"
+
+The vicar came slowly back and stood beside her leaning against the
+chimney-piece. It did not take him long to make up his mind. Kind-hearted
+people are generally impulsive.
+
+"I do not, my dear lady. I assure you I fully understand your position.
+The fact is, I was too much surprised and I am too anxious for your
+safety not to think immediately of securing that--ahem--that unfortunate
+man."
+
+"Oh, it is not my safety! It is not only my safety--"
+
+"I understand--yes--of course you are anxious about him. But it is
+doubtless not our business to aid the law in its course, provided we do
+not oppose it."
+
+"It is something else," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "Oh! how shall I tell
+you," she moaned turning her pale cheek to the back of the chair.
+
+The vicar looked at her and began to think it was perhaps some strange
+case of conscience with which he had to deal. He had very little
+experience of such things save in the rude form they take among the
+labouring classes. But he reflected that it was likely to be something of
+the kind; in such a case Mrs. Goddard would naturally enough have sent
+for him, more as her clergyman than as her friend. She looked like a
+person suffering from some great mental strain. He sat down beside her
+and took her passive hand. He was moved, and felt as though he might have
+been her father.
+
+"My dear," he said kindly, almost as though he were speaking to a child,
+"have you anything upon your mind, anything which distresses you? Do you
+wish to tell me? If so I will do my very best to help you."
+
+Mrs. Goddard's fingers pressed his hand a little, but her face was still
+turned away.
+
+"It is Mr. Juxon," she almost whispered. If she had been watching the
+vicar she would have noticed the strange air of perplexity which came
+over his face when he heard the squire's name.
+
+"Yes--Mr. Juxon," she moaned. Then the choked-down horror rose in her
+throat. "Walter means to murder him!" she almost screamed. "Oh, my God,
+my God, what shall I do!" she cried aloud clasping her hands suddenly
+over her face and rocking herself to and fro.
+
+The vicar was horror-struck; he could hardly believe his ears, and
+believing them his senses swam. In his wildest dreams--and the good man's
+dreams were rarely wild--he had never thought that such things could come
+near him. Being a very good man and, moreover, a wise man when he had
+plenty of time for reflection, he folded his hands quietly and bent his
+head, praying fervently for the poor tortured woman who moaned and tossed
+herself beside him. It was a terrible moment. Suddenly she controlled
+herself and grasping one of the arms of the chair looked round at her
+silent companion.
+
+"You must save him," she said in agonised tones, "you must save them
+both! Do not tell me you cannot--oh, do not tell me that!"
+
+It was a passionate and heart-broken appeal, such a one as few men would
+or could resist, coming as it did from a helpless and miserably unhappy
+woman. Whether the vicar was wise in giving the answer he did, it would
+be hard to say: but he was a man who honestly tried to do his best.
+
+"I will try, my dear lady," he said, making a great resolution. Mrs.
+Goddard took his hand and pressed it in both of hers, and the long
+restrained tears flowed fast and softly over her worn cheeks. For some
+moments neither spoke.
+
+"If you cannot save both--you must save--Mr. Juxon," she said at last,
+breathing the words rather than speaking them.
+
+The vicar knew or guessed what it must cost her to hint that her husband
+might be captured. He recognised that the only way in which he could
+contribute towards the escape of the convict was by not revealing his
+hiding-place, and he accordingly refrained from asking where he was
+concealed. He shuddered as he thought that Goddard might be lying hidden
+in the cottage itself, for all he could tell, but he was quite sure that
+he ought not to know it. So long as he did not know where the forger was,
+it was easy to hold his peace; but if once he knew, the vicar was not
+capable of denying the knowledge. He had never told a lie in his life.
+
+"I will try," he repeated; and growing calmer, he added, "You are
+quite sure this was not an empty threat, my dear friend? Was there any
+reason--a--I mean to say, had this unfortunate man ever known Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Oh no!" answered Mrs. Goddard, sinking back into her chair. "He never
+knew him." Her tears were still flowing but she no longer sobbed aloud;
+it had been a relief to her overwrought and sensitive temperament to give
+way to the fit of weeping. She actually felt better, though ten minutes
+earlier she would not have believed it possible.
+
+"Then--why?" asked Mr. Ambrose, hesitating.
+
+"My poor husband was a very jealous man," she answered. "I accidentally
+told him that the cottage belonged to Mr. Juxon and yesterday--do you
+remember? You walked on with Mr. Juxon beyond the turning, and then he
+came back to see me--to tell me of my husband's escape. Walter saw that
+and--and he thought, I suppose--that Mr. Juxon did not want you to see
+him coming here."
+
+"But Mr. Juxon had just promised me to go and see you," said the honest
+vicar.
+
+"Yes," said poor Mrs. Goddard, beginning to sob again, "but Walter--my
+husband--thinks that I--I care for Mr. Juxon--he is so jealous," cried
+she, again covering her face with her hands. The starting tears trickled
+through her fingers and fell upon her black dress. She was ashamed, this
+time, for she hated even to speak of such a possibility.
+
+"I understand," answered Mr. Ambrose gravely. It certainly did not strike
+him that it might be true, and his knowledge of such characters as Walter
+Goddard was got chiefly from the newspapers. He had often noticed in
+reports of trials and detailed descriptions of crimes that criminals seem
+to become entirely irrational after a certain length of time, and it was
+one of the arguments he best understood for demonstrating that bad men
+either are originally, or ultimately become mad. To men like the vicar,
+almost the only possible theory of crime is the theory of insanity. It is
+positively impossible for a man who has passed thirty or forty years in a
+quiet country parish to comprehend the motives or the actions of great
+criminals. He naturally says they must be crazy or they would not do such
+things. If Goddard were crazy enough to commit a forgery, he was crazy
+enough for anything, even to the extent of suspecting that his wife loved
+the squire.
+
+"I think," said Mr. Ambrose, "that if you agree with me it will be best
+to warn Mr. Juxon of his danger."
+
+"Of course," murmured Mrs. Goddard. "You must warn him at once!"
+
+"I will go to the Hall now," said the vicar bravely. "But--I am very
+sorry to have to dwell on the subject, my dear lady, but, without wishing
+in the least to know where the--your husband is, could you tell me
+anything about his appearance? For instance, if you understand what I
+mean, supposing that Mr. Juxon knew how he looked and should happen to
+meet him, knowing that he wished to kill him--he might perhaps avoid him,
+if you understand me?"
+
+The vicar's English was a little disturbed by his extreme desire not to
+hurt Mrs. Goddard's feelings. If the squire and his dog chanced to meet
+Walter Goddard they would probably not avoid him as the vicar expressed
+it; that was a point Mr. Ambrose was willing to leave to Mrs. Goddard's
+imagination.
+
+"Yes--must you know?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"We must know that," returned the vicar.
+
+"He is disguised as a poor tramp," she said sorrowfully. "He wears a
+smock-frock and an old hat I think. He is pale--oh, poor, poor Walter!"
+she cried again bursting into tears.
+
+Mr. Ambrose could say nothing. There was nothing to be said. He rose and
+took his hat--the old tall hat he wore to his parishioners' funerals.
+They were very primitive people in Billingsfield.
+
+"I will go at once," he said. "Believe me, you have all my sympathy--I
+will do all I can."
+
+Mary Goddard thanked him more by her looks than with any words she was
+able to speak. But she was none the less truly grateful for his sympathy
+and aid. She had a kind of blind reliance on him which made her feel that
+since she had once confided her trouble and danger nothing more could
+possibly be done. When he was gone, she sobbed with relief, as before she
+had wept for fear; she was hysterical, unstrung, utterly unlike herself.
+
+But as the vicar went up towards the Hall he felt that he had his hands
+full, and he felt moreover an uneasy sensation which he could not have
+explained. He was certainly no coward, but he had never been in such a
+position before and he did not like it; there was an air of danger about,
+an atmosphere which gave him a peculiarly unpleasant thrill from time to
+time. He was not engaged upon an agreeable errand, and he had a vague
+feeling, due, the scientists would have told him, to unconscious
+ratiocination, which seemed to tell him that something was going to
+happen. People who are very often in danger know that singular uneasiness
+which warns them that all is not well; it is not like anything else that
+can be felt. No one really knows its cause, unless it be true that the
+mind sometimes reasons for itself without the consciousness of the body,
+and communicates to the latter a spasmodic warning, the result of its
+cogitations.
+
+To say to the sturdy squire, "Beware of a man in a smock-frock, one
+Goddard the forger, who means to murder you," seemed of itself simple
+enough. But for the squire to distinguish this same Goddard from all
+other men in smock-frocks was a less easy matter. The vicar, indeed,
+could tell a strange face at a hundred yards, for he knew every man,
+woman and child in his parish; but the squire's acquaintance was more
+limited. Obviously, said Mr. Ambrose to himself, the squire's best course
+would be to stay quietly at home until the danger was passed, and to pass
+word to Policeman Gall to lay hands on any particularly seedy-looking
+tramps he happened to see in the village. It was Gall's duty to do so in
+any case, as he had been warned to be on the look-out. Mr. Ambrose
+inwardly wondered where the man could be hiding. Billingsfield was not,
+he believed, an easy place to hide in, for every ploughman knew his
+fellow, and a new face was always an object of suspicion. Not a gipsy
+tinker entered the village but what every one heard of it, and though
+tramps came through from time to time, it would be a difficult matter for
+one of them to remain two days in the place without attracting a great
+deal of attention. It was possible that Walter Goddard might have been
+concealed for one night in his wife's house, but even there he could not
+have remained hidden for two days without being seen by Mrs. Goddard's
+two women servants. The vicar walked rapidly through the park, looking
+about him suspiciously as he went. Goddard might at that very moment be
+lurking behind any one of those oaks; it would be most unpleasant if he
+mistook the vicar for the squire. But that, the vicar reflected, was
+impossible on account of his clerical dress. He reached the Hall in
+safety and stood looking down among the leafless trees, waiting for the
+door to be opened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+Mr. Juxon received the vicar in the library as he had received him on the
+previous day; but on the present occasion Mr. Ambrose had not been sent
+for and the squire's face wore an expression of inquiry. He supposed his
+friend had come to ask him the result of the interview with Mrs. Goddard,
+and as he himself was on the point of going towards the cottage he wished
+the vicar had come at a later or an earlier hour.
+
+"I have a message to give you," said Mr. Ambrose, "a very important
+message."
+
+"Indeed?" answered the squire, observing his serious face.
+
+"Yes. I had better tell you at once. Mrs. Goddard sent for me this
+morning. She has actually seen her husband, who must be hiding in the
+neighbourhood. He came to her drawing-room window last night and the
+night before."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. "You don't tell me so!"
+
+"That is not the worst of the matter," continued the vicar, looking very
+grave and fixing his eyes on the squire's face. "This villainous fellow
+has been threatening to take your life, Mr. Juxon."
+
+Mr. Juxon stared at the vicar for a moment in surprise, and then broke
+into a hearty laugh.
+
+"My life!" he cried. "Upon my word, the fellow does not know what he is
+talking about! Do you mean to say that this escaped convict, who can be
+arrested at sight wherever he is found, imagines that he could attack me
+in broad daylight without being caught?"
+
+"Well, no, I suppose not--but you often walk home at night, Mr.
+Juxon--alone through the park."
+
+"I think that dog of mine could manage Mr. Goddard," remarked the squire
+calmly. "And pray, Mr. Ambrose, now that we know that the man is in the
+neighbourhood, what is to prevent us from finding him?"
+
+"We do not know where he is," replied the vicar, thanking the inspiration
+which had prevented him from asking Mrs. Goddard more questions. He had
+promised to save Goddard, too, or at least not to facilitate his capture.
+But though he was glad to be able to say honestly that he did not know
+where he was, he began to doubt whether in the eyes of the law he was
+acting rightly.
+
+"You do not know?" asked the squire.
+
+"No; and besides I think--perhaps--we ought to consider poor Mrs.
+Goddard's position."
+
+"Mrs. Goddard's position!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon almost angrily. "And who
+should consider her position more than I, Mr. Ambrose? My dear sir, I
+consider her position before all things--of course I do. But nothing
+could be of greater advantage to her position than the certainty that her
+husband is safely lodged in prison. I cannot imagine how he contrived
+to escape--can you?"
+
+"No, I cannot," answered Mr. Ambrose, thrusting his hands into his
+pockets and biting his long upper lip.
+
+"By the bye, did the fellow happen to say why he meant to lay violent
+hands on me?" inquired Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Since you ask--he did. It appears that he saw you going into the
+cottage, and immediately became jealous--"
+
+"Of me?" Mr. Juxon coloured a little beneath his bronzed complexion, and
+grew more angry. "Well, upon my word! But if that is true I am much
+obliged for your warning. Fellows of that sort never reason--he will very
+likely attack me as you say. It will be quite the last time he attacks
+anybody--the devil shall have his own, Mr. Ambrose, if I can help him to
+it--"
+
+"Dear me! Mr. Juxon--you surprise me," said the vicar, who had never
+heard his friend use such strong language before.
+
+"It is enough to surprise anybody," remarked the squire. "I trust we
+shall surprise Mr. Goddard before night. Excuse me, but when did he
+express his amiable intentions towards me?"
+
+"Last night, I believe," replied Mr. Ambrose, reluctantly.
+
+"And when did he see me going into the cottage?"
+
+"Yesterday afternoon, I believe." The vicar felt as though he were
+beginning to break his promise of shielding the fugitive, but he could
+not refuse to answer a direct question.
+
+"Then, when he saw me, he was either in the cottage or in the park. There
+was no one in the road, I am quite sure."
+
+"I do not know," said the vicar, delighted at being able to say so. He
+was such a simple man that Mr. Juxon noticed the tone of relief in which
+he denied any knowledge of Goddard's whereabouts on the previous day as
+compared with his reluctance to answer upon those points of which he was
+certain.
+
+"You are not anxious that Goddard should be caught," said the squire
+rather sharply.
+
+"Frankly," returned the vicar, "I do not wish to be instrumental in his
+capture--not that I am likely to be."
+
+"That is none of my business, Mr. Ambrose. I will try and catch him
+alone. But it would be better that he should be taken alive and
+quietly--"
+
+"Surely," cried the vicar in great alarm, "you would not kill him?"
+
+"Oh no, certainly not. But my dog might, Mr. Ambrose. They are ugly dogs
+when they are angry, and they have a remarkable faculty for finding
+people who are lost. They used to use them in Russia for tracking
+fugitive serfs and convicts who escaped from Siberia."
+
+Mr. Ambrose shuddered. The honest squire seemed almost as bloodthirsty in
+his eyes as the convict Goddard. He felt that he did not understand Mr.
+Juxon. The idea of hunting people with bloodhounds seemed utterly foreign
+to his English nature, and he could not understand how his English friend
+could entertain such a thought; he probably forgot that a few generations
+earlier the hunting of all kinds of men, papists, dissenters, covenanters
+and rebels, with dogs, had been a favourite English sport.
+
+"Really, Mr. Juxon," he said in an agitated tone, "I think you would do
+much better to protect yourself with the means provided by the law.
+Considerations of humanity--"
+
+"Considerations of humanity, sir, are at an end when one man threatens
+the life of another. You admit yourself that I am not safe unless Goddard
+is caught, and yet you object to my method of catching him. That is
+illogical."
+
+The vicar felt that this was to some extent true; but he was not willing
+to admit it. He knew also that if he could dissuade the squire from his
+barbarous scheme, Goddard would have a far better chance of escape.
+
+"I think that with the assistance of Gall and a London detective--" he
+began.
+
+"Gall is an old woman, Mr. Ambrose, and it will take twenty-four hours to
+get a detective from town. In twenty-four hours this man may have
+attacked me."
+
+"He will hardly attempt to force his way into your house, Mr. Juxon."
+
+"So then, I am to stay at home to suit his convenience? I will not do any
+such thing. Besides, in twenty-four hours Goddard may have changed his
+mind and may have taken himself off. For the rest of her life Mrs.
+Goddard will then be exposed to the possibility of every kind of
+annoyance."
+
+"He would never come back, I am sure," objected the vicar.
+
+"Why not? Every time he comes she will give him money. The more money she
+gives him the more often he will come, unless we put an end to his coming
+altogether."
+
+"You seem to forget," urged Mr. Ambrose, "that there will be a vigorous
+search made for him. Why not telegraph to the governor of Portland?"
+
+"I thought you wanted to save Mrs. Goddard from needless scandal; did you
+not?" returned the squire. "The governor of Portland would send down a
+squad of police who would publish the whole affair. He would have done so
+as soon as the man escaped had he known that Mrs. Goddard lived here."
+
+"I wonder how Goddard himself knew it," remarked Mr. Ambrose.
+
+"I don't know. Perhaps she told him she was coming here, at their last
+interview. Or perhaps she wrote to him in prison and the governor
+overlooked the letter. Anything like that would account for it."
+
+"But if you catch him--alive," hesitated the vicar, "it will all be known
+at once. I do not see how you can prevent that."
+
+"If I catch him alive, I will take him out of Billingsfield without any
+one's knowledge. I do not mean to hurt him. I only want to get him back
+to prison. Believe me, I am much more anxious than you can possibly be to
+save Mrs. Goddard from harm."
+
+"Very well. I have done my errand," said Mr. Ambrose, with a sort of sigh
+of relief. "I confess, I am in great anxiety of mind, both on your
+account and on hers. I never dreamed that such things could happen in
+Billingsfield."
+
+"You are certainly not responsible for them," answered Mr. Juxon. "It is
+not your fault--"
+
+"Not altogether, perhaps. But I was perhaps wrong in letting her come
+here--no, I am sure I was not," he added impulsively, as though ashamed
+of having said anything so unkind.
+
+"Certainly not. You were quite right, Mr. Ambrose, quite right, I assure
+you."
+
+"Well, I hope all may yet be for the best," said the vicar.
+
+"Let us hope so," replied Mr. Juxon gravely. "By all means, let us hope
+that all may be for the best."
+
+Whether the squire doubted the possibility of so happy an issue to events
+or not, is uncertain. He felt almost more sorry for the vicar than for
+himself; the vicar was such a good man, so unused to the violent deeds of
+violent people, of which the squire in his wanderings had seen more than
+was necessary to convince him that all was not always for the best in
+this best of all possible worlds.
+
+Mr. Ambrose left his friend and as he retraced his steps through the park
+was more disturbed than ever. That Goddard should contemplate killing the
+squire was bad enough, in all conscience, but that the squire should
+deliberately purpose to hunt down Goddard with his bloodhound seemed
+somehow even worse. The vicar had indeed promised Mrs. Goddard that he
+would not help to capture her husband, but he would have been as glad as
+any one to hear that the convict was once more lodged in his prison.
+There lurked in his mind, nevertheless, an impression that even a convict
+should have a fair chance. The idea was not expressed, but existed in
+him. Everybody, he would have said, ought to have a fair chance, and
+as the law of nations forbids the use of explosive bullets in warfare,
+the laws of humanity seemed to forbid the use of bloodhounds in the
+pursuit of criminals. He had a very great respect for the squire's
+character and principles, but the cold-blooded way in which Mr. Juxon had
+spoken of catching and probably killing Walter Goddard, had shaken the
+good vicar's belief in his friend. He doubted whether he were not now
+bound to return to Mrs. Goddard and to warn her in his turn of her
+husband's danger, whether he ought not to do something to save the
+wretched convict from his fate. It seemed hideous to think that in
+peaceful Billingsfield, in his own lonely parish, a human being should be
+exposed to such peril. But at this point the vicar's continuity forsook
+him. He had not the heart to tell the tale of his interview with Mr.
+Juxon to the unhappy lady he had left that morning. It was extremely
+improbable, he thought, that she should be able to communicate with her
+husband during the day, and the squire's language led him to think that
+the day would not pass without some attempt to discover Walter Goddard's
+hiding-place. Besides, the vicar's mind was altogether more disturbed
+than it had been in thirty years, and he was no longer able to account to
+himself with absolute accuracy for what he did. At all events, he felt
+that it was better not to tell Mrs. Goddard what the squire had said.
+
+When he was gone, Mr. Juxon paced his library alone in the greatest
+uncertainty. He had told the vicar in his anger that he would find
+Goddard with the help of Stamboul. That the hound was able to accomplish
+the feat in the present weather, and if Goddard had actually stood some
+time at the cottage window on the previous night, he did not doubt for a
+moment. The vicar had mentioned the window to him when he told him that
+Mrs. Goddard had seen her husband. He had probably been at the window as
+late as midnight, and the scent, renewed by his visit, would not be
+twelve hours old. Stamboul could find the man, unless he had got into a
+cart, which was improbable. But a new and startling consideration
+presented itself to the squire's mind when the vicar was gone and his
+anger had subsided; a consideration which made him hesitate what course
+to pursue.
+
+That he would be justified in using any means in his power to catch the
+criminal seemed certain. It would be for the public good that he should
+be delivered up to justice as soon as possible. So long as Goddard was at
+large the squire's own life was not safe, and Mrs. Goddard was liable to
+all kinds of annoyances at any moment. There was every reason why the
+fellow should be captured. But to capture him, safe and sound, was one
+thing; to expose him to the jaws of Stamboul was quite another. Mr. Juxon
+had a lively recollection of the day in the Belgrade forest when the
+great hound had pulled down one of his assailants, making his fangs meet
+through flesh and bone. If Stamboul were set upon Goddard's track, the
+convict could hardly escape with his life. In the first flush of the
+squire's anger this seemed of little importance. But on mature reflection
+the thing appeared in a different light.
+
+He loved Mrs. Goddard in his own way, which was a very honourable way, if
+not very passionate. He had asked her to marry him. She had expressed a
+wish that she were a widow, implying perhaps that if she had been free
+she would have accepted him. If the obstacle of her living husband were
+removed, it was not improbable that she would look favourably upon the
+squire's suit; to bring Goddard to an untimely end would undoubtedly be
+to clear the way for the squire. It was not then, a legitimate desire for
+justice which made him wish to catch the convict and almost to wish that
+Stamboul might worry him to death; it was the secret hope that Goddard
+might be killed and that he, Charles James Juxon, might have the chance
+to marry his widow. "In other words," he said to himself, "I really want
+to murder Goddard and take his wife."
+
+It was not easy to see where legitimate severity ended and unlawful and
+murderous selfishness began. The temptation was a terrible one. The very
+uncertainty which there was, tempted the squire to disregard the
+possibility of Goddard's death as compared with the importance of his
+capture. It was quite likely, he unconsciously argued, that the
+bloodhound would not kill him after all; it was even possible that he
+might not find him; but it would be worth while to make the attempt, for
+the results to be obtained by catching the fugitive were very great--Mrs.
+Goddard's peace was to be considered before all things. But still before
+the squire's eyes arose the picture of Stamboul tearing the throat of the
+man he had killed in the Belgrade forest. If he killed the felon, Juxon
+would know that to all intents and purposes he had himself done the deed
+in order to marry Mrs. Goddard. But still the thought remained with him
+and would not leave him.
+
+The fellow had threatened his own life. It was then a fair fight,
+for a man cannot be blamed if he tries to get the better of one who is
+going about to kill him. On one of his many voyages, he had once shot a
+man in order to quell a mutiny; he had not killed him it is true, but
+he had disabled him for the time--he had handled many a rough customer
+in his day. The case, he thought, was similar, for it was the case of
+self-defence. The law, even, would say he was justified. But to slay a
+man in self-defence and then to marry his widow, though justifiable in
+law, is a very delicate case for the conscience; and in spite of the
+wandering life he had led, Mr. Juxon's conscience was sensitive. He was
+an honest man and a gentleman, he had tried all his life to do right as
+he saw it, and did not mean to turn murderer now, no matter how easy it
+would be for him to defend his action.
+
+At the end of an hour he had decided that it would be murder, and no
+less, to let Stamboul track Goddard to his hiding-place. The hound might
+accompany him in his walks, and if anybody attacked him it would be so
+much the worse for his assailant. Murder or no murder, he was entitled to
+take any precautions he pleased against an assault. But he would not
+willingly put the bloodhound on the scent, and he knew well enough that
+the dog would not run upon a strange trail unless he were put to it.
+The squire went to his lunch, feeling that he had made a good resolution;
+but he ate little and soon afterwards began to feel the need of going
+down to see Mrs. Goddard. No day was complete without seeing her, and
+considering the circumstances which had occurred on the previous
+afternoon, it was natural that he should call to inquire after her state.
+In the hall, the gigantic beast which had played such an important part
+in his thoughts during the morning, came solemnly up to him, raising his
+great red eyes as though asking whether he were to accompany his master.
+The squire stood still and looked at him for a moment.
+
+"Come along, Stamboul!" he said suddenly, as he put on his hat. The hound
+leaped up and laid his heavy paws on the squire's shoulders, trying to
+lick his face in his delight, then, almost upsetting the sturdy man he
+sprang back, slipped on the polished floor, recovered himself and with an
+enormous stride bounded past Mr. Juxon, out into the park. But Mr. Juxon
+quickly called him back, and presently he was following close at heel in
+his own stately way, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The
+squire felt nervous, and the sensation was new to him. He did not believe
+that Goddard would really attack him at all, certainly not that he would
+dare to attack him in broad daylight. But the knowledge of the threat the
+fellow had uttered made him watchful. He glanced to the right and left as
+he walked and gripped his heavy blackthorn stick firmly in his hand. He
+wished that if the man were to appear he would come quickly--it might be
+hard to hold Stamboul back if he were attacked unawares.
+
+He reached the gate, crossed the road and rang the bell of the cottage.
+As he stood waiting, Stamboul smelled the ground, put up his head,
+smelled it again and with his nose down trotted slowly to the window on
+the left hand of the door. He smelled the ground, the wall and presently
+put both his fore paws upon the outer ledge of the window. Then he
+dropped again, and looked at his master. Martha was a long time in coming
+to the door.
+
+"After him, Stamboul!" said the squire, almost unconsciously. The dog put
+his nose down and began to move slowly about. At that moment the door
+opened.
+
+"Oh, sir," said Martha, "it's you, sir. I was to say, if you please, that
+if you called, Mrs. Goddard was poorly to-day, sir."
+
+"Dear me!" said Mr. Juxon, "I hope she is not ill. Is it anything
+serious, Martha?"
+
+"Well, sir, she's been down this mornin', but her head ached terrible bad
+and she went back to her room--oh, sir, your dog--he's a runnin' home."
+
+As she spoke a sound rang in the air that made Martha start back. It was
+a deep, resounding, bell-like note, fierce and wild, rising and falling,
+low but full, with a horror indescribable in its echo--the sound which no
+man who has heard it ever forgets--the baying of a bloodhound on the
+track of a man.
+
+The squire turned deadly pale, but he shouted with all his might, as he
+would have shouted to a man on the topsail yard in a gale at sea.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul! Stamboul!" Again and again he yelled the dog's name.
+
+Stamboul had not gone far. The quickset hedge had baffled the scent for a
+moment and he was not a dozen yards beyond it in the park when his
+master's cry stopped him. Instantly he turned, cleared the six-foot hedge
+and double ditch at a bound and came leaping back across the road. The
+squire breathed hard, for it had been a terrible moment. If he had not
+succeeded in calling the beast back, it might have been all over with
+Walter Goddard, wherever he was hidden.
+
+"It is only his play," said Mr. Juxon, still very white and holding
+Stamboul by the collar. "Please tell Mrs. Goddard, Martha, that I am very
+sorry indeed to hear that she is ill, and that I will inquire this
+evening."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Martha, who eyed the panting beast timidly and showed an
+evident desire to shut the door as soon as possible.
+
+The squire felt more nervous than ever as he walked slowly along the road
+in the direction of the village, his hand still on the bloodhound's
+collar. He felt what a narrow escape Goddard had probably had, and the
+terrible sound of Stamboul's baying had brought back to him once again
+and very vividly the scene in the woods by the Bosphorus. He felt that
+for a few minutes at least he would rather not enter the park with the
+dog by him, and he naturally turned towards the vicarage, not with any
+intention of going in, but from sheer force of custom, as people under
+the influence of strong emotions often do things unconsciously which they
+are in the habit of doing. He walked slowly along, and had almost reached
+Mr. Ambrose's pretty old red brick house, when he found himself face to
+face with the vicar's wife. She presented an imposing appearance, as
+usual; her grey skirt, drawn up a little from the mud, revealed a bright
+red petticoat and those stout shoes which she regarded as so essential
+to health; she wore moreover a capacious sealskin jacket and a dark
+bonnet with certain jet flowers, which for many years had been regarded
+by the inhabitants of Billingsfield as the distinctive badge of a
+gentlewoman. Mrs. Ambrose was wont to smile and say that they were
+indestructible and would last as long as she did. She greeted Mr. Juxon
+cordially.
+
+"How do you, Mr. Juxon--were you going to see us? I was just going for a
+walk--perhaps you will come with me?"
+
+Mr. Juxon turned back and prepared to accompany her.
+
+"Such good news this morning, from John Short," she said. "He has
+finished his examinations, and it seems almost certain that he will be
+senior classic. His tutor at Trinity has written already to congratulate
+my husband upon his success."
+
+"I am sure, I am delighted, too," said the squire, who had regained his
+composure but kept his hold on Stamboul's collar. "He deserves all he
+gets, and more too," he continued. "I think he will be a remarkable man."
+
+"I did not think you liked him so very much," said Mrs. Ambrose rather
+doubtfully, as she walked slowly by his side.
+
+"Oh--I liked him very much. Indeed, I was going to ask him to stay with
+me for a few days at the Hall."
+
+The inspiration was spontaneous. Mr. Juxon was in a frame of mind in
+which he felt that he ought to do something pleasant for somebody, to set
+off against the bloodthirsty designs which had passed through his mind in
+the morning. He knew that if he had not been over friendly to John, it
+had been John's own fault; but since he had found out that it was
+impossible to marry Mrs. Goddard, he had forgiven the young scholar his
+shortcomings and felt very charitably inclined towards him. It suddenly
+struck him that it would give John great pleasure to stop at the Hall for
+a few days, and that it would be no inconvenience to himself. The effect
+upon Mrs. Ambrose was greater even than he had expected. She was
+hospitable, good and kind, but she was also economical, as she had need
+to be. The squire was rich. If the squire would put up John during a part
+of his visit it would be a kindness to John himself, and an economy to
+the vicarage. Mr. Ambrose himself would not have gone to such a length;
+but then, as his wife said to herself in self-defence, Augustin did not
+pay the butcher's bills, and did not know how the money went. She did not
+say that Augustin was precisely what is called reckless, but he of course
+did not understand economy as she did. How should he, poor man, with all
+his sermons and his funerals and other occupations to take his mind off?
+Mrs. Ambrose was delighted at the squire's proposal.
+
+"Really!" she exclaimed. "That would be too good of you, Mr. Juxon. And
+you do not know how it would quite delight him! He loves books so much,
+and then you know," she added in a confidential manner, "he has never
+stayed in a country house in his life, I am quite sure."
+
+"And when is he coming down?" asked Mr. Juxon. "I should be very much
+pleased to have him."
+
+"To-morrow, I think," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Well--would you ask him from me to come up and stop a week? Can you
+spare him, Mrs. Ambrose? I know you are very fond of him, of course,
+but--"
+
+"Oh very," said she warmly. "But I think it likely he will stay some
+time," she added in explanation of her willingness to let him go to the
+Hall.
+
+The squire felt vaguely that the presence of a guest in his house would
+probably be a restraint upon him, and he felt that some restraint would
+be agreeable to him at the present time.
+
+"Besides," added Mrs. Ambrose, "if you would like to have him
+first--there is a little repair necessary in his room at the vicarage--we
+have put it off too long--"
+
+"By all means." said the squire, following out his own train of thought.
+"Send him up to me as soon as he comes. If I can manage it I will be down
+here to ask him myself."
+
+"It is so good of you," said Mrs. Ambrose.
+
+"Not at all. Are you going to the cottage?"
+
+"Yes--why?"
+
+"Nothing," said Mr. Juxon. "I did not know whether you would like to walk
+on a little farther with me. Good-bye, then. You will tell Short as soon
+as he comes, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly," replied Mrs. Ambrose, still beaming upon him. "I will not
+let him unpack his things at the vicarage. Good-bye--so many thanks."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+Mrs. Goddard's head ached "terrible bad" according to Martha, and when
+the vicar left her she went and lay down upon her bed, with a sensation
+that if the worst were not yet over she could bear no more. But she had
+an elastic temperament, and the fact of having consulted Mr. Ambrose that
+morning had been a greater relief than she herself suspected. She felt
+that he could be trusted to save Mr. Juxon from harm and Walter from
+capture, and having once confided to him the important secret which had
+so heavily weighed upon her mind she felt that the burthen of her
+troubles was lightened. Mr. Juxon could take any measures he pleased for
+his own safety; he would probably choose to stay at home until the danger
+was past. As for her husband, Mary Goddard did not believe that he would
+return a third time, for she thought that she had thoroughly frightened
+him. It was even likely that he had only thrown out his threat for the
+sake of terrifying his wife, and was now far beyond the limits of the
+parish. So great was the relief she felt after she had talked with the
+vicar that she almost ceased to believe there was any danger at all;
+looking at it in the light of her present mood, she almost wondered why
+she had thought it necessary to tell Mr. Ambrose--until suddenly a vision
+of her friend the squire, attacked and perhaps killed, in his own park,
+rose to her mental vision, and she remembered what agonies of fear she
+had felt for him until she had sent for the vicar. The latter indeed
+seemed to have been a sort of _deus ex maohina_ by whom she suddenly
+obtained peace of mind and a sense of security in the hour of her
+greatest distress.
+
+All that afternoon she lay upon her bed, while Nellie sat beside her and
+read to her, and stroked her hands; for Nellie was in reality
+passionately fond of her mother and suffered almost as much at the sight
+of her suffering as she could have done had she been in pain herself.
+Both Mrs. Goddard and the child started at the sound of Stamboul's
+baying, which was unlike anything they had ever heard before, and Nellie
+ran to the window.
+
+"It is only Mr. Juxon and Stamboul having a game," said Nellie. "What a
+noise he made, though! Did not he?"
+
+Poor Nellie--had she had any idea of what the "game" was from which the
+squire found it so hard to make his hound desist, she must have gone
+almost mad with horror. For the game was her own father, poor child. But
+she came back and sat beside her mother utterly unconscious of what might
+have happened if Stamboul had once got beyond earshot, galloping along
+the trail towards the disused vault at the back of the church. Mrs.
+Goddard had started at the sounds and had put her hand to her forehead,
+but Nellie's explanation was enough to quiet her, and she smiled faintly
+and closed her eyes again. Then, half an hour later, Mrs. Ambrose came,
+and would not be denied. She wanted to make Mrs. Goddard comfortable, she
+said, when she found she was ill, and she did her best, being a kind and
+motherly woman when not hardened by the presence of strangers. She told
+her that John was coming on the next day, speaking with vast pride of his
+success and omitting to look sternly at Mrs. Goddard as she had formerly
+been accustomed to do when she spoke of the young scholar. Then at last
+she went away, after exacting a promise from Mrs. Goddard to come and
+dine, bringing Nellie with her, on the following day, in case she should
+have recovered by that time from her headache.
+
+But during all that night Mrs. Goddard lay awake, listening for the sound
+she so much dreaded, of a creeping footstep on the slated path outside
+and for the tapping at the window. Nothing came, however, and as the grey
+dawn began to creep in through the white curtains, she fell peacefully
+asleep. Nellie would not let her be waked, and breakfasted without her,
+enjoying with childish delight the state of being waited on by Martha
+alone.
+
+Meanwhile, at an early hour, John arrived at the vicarage and was
+received with open arms by Mr. Ambrose and his wife. The latter seemed to
+forget, in the pleasure of seeing him again, that she had even once
+spoken doubtfully of him or hinted that he was anything short of
+perfection itself. And to prove how much she had done for him she
+communicated with great pride the squire's message, to the effect that he
+expected John at the Hall that very day.
+
+John's heart leaped with delight at the idea. It was natural. He was
+indeed most sincerely attached to the Ambroses, and most heartily glad to
+be with them; but he had never in his life had an opportunity of staying
+in a "big" house, as he would have described it. It seemed as though he
+were already beginning to taste the sweet first-fruits of success after
+all his labour and all his privations; it was the first taste of another
+world, the first mouthful of the good things of life which had fallen to
+his lot. Instantly there rose before him delicious visions of hot-water
+cans brought by a real footman, of luxurious meals served by a real
+butler, of soft carpets perpetually beneath his feet, of liberty to
+lounge in magnificent chairs in the magnificent library; and last, though
+not least, there was a boyish feeling of delight in the thought that when
+he went to see Mrs. Goddard he would go from the Hall, that she would
+perhaps associate him henceforth with a different kind of existence, in a
+word, that he was sure to acquire importance in her eyes from the fact of
+his visit to the squire. Many a young fellow of one and twenty is as
+familiar with all that money can give and as tired of luxury as a
+broken-down hard liver of forty years; for this is an age of luxurious
+living. But poor John had hardly ever tasted the least of those things
+too familiar to the golden youth of the period to be even noticed. He had
+felt when he first entered the little drawing-room of the cottage that
+Mrs. Goddard herself belonged, or had belonged, to that delicious unknown
+world of ease where the question of expense was never considered, much
+less mentioned. In her own eyes she was indeed living in a state
+approaching to penury, but the spectacle of her pictures, her furniture
+and her bibelots had impressed John with a very different idea. The
+squire's invitation, asking him to spend a week at the Hall, seemed in a
+moment to put him upon the same level as the woman to whom he believed
+himself so devotedly attached. To his mind the ideal woman could not but
+be surrounded by a luxurious atmosphere of her own. To enter the charmed
+precincts of those surroundings seemed to John equivalent to being
+transported from the regions of the Theocritan to the level of the
+Anacreontic ode, from the pastoral, of which he had had too much, to the
+aristocratic, of which he felt that he could not have enough. It was a
+natural feeling in a very young man of his limited experience.
+
+He stayed some hours at the vicarage. Both Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose thought
+him changed in the short time which had elapsed since they had seen him.
+He had grown more grave; he was certainly more of a man. The great
+contest he had just sustained with so much honour had left upon his young
+face its mark, an air of power which had not formerly been visible there;
+even his voice seemed to have grown deeper and rounder, and his words
+carried more weight. The good vicar, who had seen several generations
+of students, already distinguished in John Short the budding "don," and
+rubbed his hands with great satisfaction.
+
+John asked few questions but found himself obliged to answer many
+concerning his recent efforts. He would have liked to say something about
+Mrs. Goddard, but he remembered with some awe and much aversion the
+circumstances in which he had last quitted the vicarage, and he held his
+peace; whereby he again rose in Mrs. Ambrose's estimation. He made up for
+his silence by speaking effusively of the squire's kindness in asking him
+to the Hall; forgetting perhaps the relief he had felt when he escaped
+from Billingsfield after Christmas without being again obliged to shake
+hands with Mr. Juxon. Things looked very differently now, however. He
+felt himself to be somebody in the world, and that distressing sense of
+inferiority which had perhaps been at the root of his jealousy against
+the squire was gone, swallowed in the sense of triumph. His face was
+pale, perhaps, from overwork, but there was a brilliancy in his eyes and
+an incisiveness in his speech which came from the confidence of victory.
+He now desired nothing more than to meet the squire, feeling sure that he
+should receive his congratulations, and though he stayed some hours in
+conversation with his old friends, in imagination he was already at the
+Hall. The squire had not come down to meet him, as he had proposed, but
+he had sent his outlandish American gig with his groom to fetch John.
+While he was at the vicarage the latter was probably too much occupied
+with conversation to notice that Mr. Ambrose seemed preoccupied and
+changed, and the vicar was to some extent recalled to his usual manner by
+the presence of his pupil. Mrs. Ambrose had taxed her husband with
+concealing something from her ever since the previous day, but the good
+man was obstinate and merely said that he felt unaccountably nervous and
+irritable, and begged her to excuse his mood. Mrs. Ambrose postponed her
+cross-examination until a more favourable opportunity should present
+itself.
+
+John got into the gig and drove away. He was to return with the squire to
+dinner in the evening, and he fully expected that Mrs. Goddard and Nellie
+would be of the party--it seemed hardly likely that they should be
+omitted. Indeed, soon after John had left a note arrived at the vicarage
+explaining that Mrs. Goddard was much better and would certainly come,
+according to Mrs. Ambrose's very kind invitation.
+
+It is unnecessary to dwell upon the meeting which took place between Mr.
+Juxon and John Short. The squire was hospitable in the extreme and
+expressed his great satisfaction at having John under his own roof at
+last. He was perhaps, like the vicar, a little nervous, but the young man
+did not notice it, being much absorbed by the enjoyment of his good
+fortune and of the mental rest he so greatly needed. Mr. Juxon
+congratulated him warmly and expressed a hope, amounting to certainty,
+that John might actually be at the head of the Tripos; to which John
+modestly replied that he would be quite satisfied to be in the first ten,
+knowing in his heart that he should be most bitterly disappointed if he
+were second to any one. He sat opposite to his host in a deep chair
+beside the fire in the library and revelled in comfort and ease, enjoying
+every trifle that fell in his way, feeling only a very slight diffidence
+in regard to himself for the present and none at all for the future. The
+squire was so cordial that he felt himself thoroughly at home. Indeed Mr.
+Juxon already rejoiced at his wisdom in asking John to the Hall. The lad
+was strong, hopeful, well-balanced in every respect and his presence was
+an admirable tonic to the almost morbid state of anxiety in which the
+squire had lived ever since his interview with Policeman Gall, two days
+before. In the sunshine of John's young personality, fears grew small and
+hope grew big. The ideas which had passed through Mr. Juxon's brain on
+the previous evening, just after Mr. Ambrose had warned him of Goddard's
+intentions, seemed now like the evil shadows of a nightmare. All
+apprehension lest the convict should attempt to execute his threats
+disappeared like darkness before daylight, and in the course of an hour
+or two the squire found himself laughing and chatting with his guest as
+though there were no such things as forgery or convicts in the world. The
+afternoon passed very pleasantly between the examination of Mr. Juxon's
+treasures and the conversation those objects elicited. For John, who was
+an accomplished scholar, had next to no knowledge of bibliology and took
+delight in seeing for the first time many a rare edition which he had
+heard mentioned or had read of in the course of his studies. He would not
+have believed that he could be now talking on such friendly terms with a
+man for whom he had once felt the strongest antipathy, and Mr. Juxon on
+his part felt that in their former meetings he had not done full justice
+to the young man's undoubted talents.
+
+As they drove down to the vicarage that evening Mrs. Goddard's name was
+mentioned for the first time. John, with a fine affectation of
+indifference, asked how she was.
+
+"She has not been very well lately," answered Mr. Juxon.
+
+"What has been the matter?" inquired John, who could not see his
+companion's face in the dark shade of the trees.
+
+"Headache, I believe," returned the squire laconically, and silence
+ensued for a few moments. "I should not wonder if it rained again this
+evening," he added presently as they passed through the park gate, out
+into the road. The sky was black and it was hard to see anything beyond
+the yellow streak of light which fell from the lamps and ran along the
+road before the gig.
+
+"If it turns out a fine night, don't come for us. We will walk home,"
+said the squire to the groom as they descended before the vicarage and
+Stamboul, who had sat on the floor between them, sprang down to the
+ground.
+
+John was startled when he met Mrs. Goddard. He was amazed at the change
+in her appearance for which no one had prepared him. She met him indeed
+very cordially but he felt as though she were not the same woman he had
+known so short a time before. There was still in her face that delicate
+pathetic expression which had at first charmed him, there was still the
+same look in her eyes; but what had formerly seemed so attractive seemed
+now exaggerated. Her cheeks looked wan and hollow and there were deep
+shadows about her eyes and temples; her lips had lost their colour and
+the lines about her mouth had suddenly become apparent where John had not
+before suspected them. She looked ten years older as she put her thin
+hand in his and smiled pleasantly at his greeting. Some trite phrase
+about the "ravages of time" crossed John's mind and gave him a
+disagreeable sensation, for which it was hard to account. He felt as
+though his dream were suddenly dead and a strange reality had taken life
+in its place. Could this be she to whom he had written verses by the
+score, at whose smile he had swelled with pride, at whose careless laugh
+he had trembled with shame? She was terribly changed, she looked
+positively old--what John called old. As he sat by her side talking and
+wondering whether he would fall back into those same grooves of
+conversation he had associated with her formerly, he felt something akin
+to pity for her, which he had certainly never expected to feel. She was
+not the same as before--even the tone of her voice was different; she was
+gentle, pathetic, endowed even now with many charms, but she was not
+the woman he had dreamed of and tried to speak to of the love he fancied
+was in his heart. She talked--yes; but there were long pauses, and her
+eyes wandered strangely from him, often towards the windows of the
+vicarage drawing-room, often towards the doors; her answers were not
+always to the point and her interest seemed to flag in what was said.
+John could not fail to notice too that both Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Juxon
+treated her with the kind of attention which is bestowed upon invalids,
+and the vicar's wife was constantly doing something to make her
+comfortable, offering her a footstool, shading the light from her eyes,
+asking if she felt any draught where she sat. These were things no one
+had formerly thought of doing for Mrs. Goddard, who in spite of her sad
+face had been used to laugh merrily enough with the rest, and whose lithe
+figure had seemed to John the embodiment of youthful activity. At last he
+ventured to ask her a question.
+
+"Have you been ill, Mrs. Goddard?" he inquired in a voice full of
+interest. Her soft eyes glanced uneasily at him. He was now the only one
+of the party who was not in some degree acquainted with her troubles.
+
+"Oh no!" she answered nervously. "Only a little headache. It always makes
+me quite wretched when I have it."
+
+"Yes. I often have headaches, too," answered John. "The squire told me as
+we came down."
+
+"What did he tell you?" asked Mrs. Goddard so quickly as to startle her
+companion.
+
+"Oh--only that you had not been very well. Where is it that you suffer?"
+he asked sympathetically. "I think it is worst when it seems to be in
+the very centre of one's head, like a red-hot nail being driven in with a
+hammer--is that like what you feel?"
+
+"I--yes, I daresay. I don't quite know," she answered, her eyes wandering
+uneasily about the room. "I suppose you have dreadful headaches over
+your work, do you not, Mr. Short?" she added quickly, feeling that she
+must say something.
+
+"Oh, it is all over now," said John rather proudly. But as he leaned back
+in his chair he said to himself that this meeting was not precisely what
+he had anticipated; the subject of headaches might have a fine interest
+in its way, but he had expected to have talked of more tender things. To
+his own great surprise he felt no desire to do so, however. He had not
+recovered from the shock of seeing that Mrs. Goddard had grown old.
+
+"Yes," said she, kindly. "How glad you must be! To have done so
+splendidly too--you must feel that you have realised a magnificent
+dream."
+
+"No," said John. "I cannot say I do. I have done the thing I meant to do,
+or I have good reason to believe that I have; but I have not realised my
+dream. I shall never write any more odes, Mrs. Goddard."
+
+"Why not? Oh, you mean to me, Mr. Short?" she added with something of her
+old manner. "Well, you know, it is much better that you should not."
+
+"Perhaps so," answered John rather sadly. "I don't know. Frankly, Mrs.
+Goddard, did not you sometimes think I was very foolish last Christmas?"
+
+"Very," she said, smiling at him kindly. "But I think you have changed. I
+think you are more of a man, now--you have something more serious--"
+
+"I used to think I was very serious, and so I was," said John, with the
+air of a man who refers to the follies of his long past youth. "Do you
+remember how angry I was when you wanted me to skate with Miss Nellie?"
+
+"Oh, I only said that to teaze you," Mrs. Goddard answered. "I daresay
+you would be angry now, if I suggested the same thing."
+
+"No," said John quietly. "I do not believe I should be. As you say, I
+feel very much older now than I did then."
+
+"The older we grow the more we like youth," said Mary Goddard,
+unconsciously uttering one of the fundamental truths of human nature, and
+at the same time so precisely striking the current of John's thoughts
+that he started. He was wondering within himself why it was that she now
+seemed too old for him, whereas a few short months ago she had seemed to
+be of his own age.
+
+"How true that is!" he exclaimed. Mrs. Goddard laughed faintly.
+
+"You are not old enough to have reached that point yet, Mr. Short," she
+said. "Really, here we are moralising like a couple of old philosophers!"
+
+"This is a moralising season," answered John. "When we last met, it was
+all holly-berries and Christmas and plum-pudding."
+
+"How long ago that seems!" exclaimed the poor lady with a sigh.
+
+"Ages!" echoed John, sighing in his turn, but not so much for sadness, it
+may be, as from relief that the great struggle was over. That time of
+anxiety and terrible effort seemed indeed very far removed from him, but
+its removal was a cause of joy rather than of sadness. He sighed like a
+man who, sitting over his supper, remembers the hard fought race he has
+won in the afternoon, feeling yet in his limbs the ability to race and
+win again but feeling in his heart the delicious consciousness that the
+question of his superiority has been decided beyond all dispute.
+
+"And now you will stay here a long time, of course," said Mrs. Goddard
+presently.
+
+"I am stopping at the Hall, just now," said John with a distinct sense of
+the importance of the fact, "and after a week I shall stay here a few
+days. Then I shall go to London to see my father."
+
+"No one will be so glad as he to hear of your success."
+
+"No indeed. I really think it is more for his sake that I want to be
+actually first," said John. "Do you know, I have so often thought how he
+will look when I meet him and tell him I am the senior classic."
+
+John's voice trembled and as Mrs. Goddard looked at him, she thought she
+saw a moisture in his eyes. It pleased her to see it, for it showed that
+John Short had more heart than she had imagined.
+
+"I can fancy that," she said, warmly. "I envy you that moment."
+
+Presently the squire came over to where they were sitting and joined
+them; and then Mrs. Ambrose spoke to John, and Nellie came and asked him
+questions. Strange to say John felt none of that annoyance which he
+formerly felt when his conversations with Mrs. Goddard were interrupted,
+and he talked with Nellie and Mrs. Ambrose quite as readily as with her.
+He felt very calm and happy that night, as though he had done with the
+hard labour of life. In half an hour he had realised that he was no more
+in love with Mrs. Goddard than he was with Mrs. Ambrose, and he was
+trying to explain to himself how it was that he had ever believed in such
+a palpable absurdity. Love was doubtless blind, he thought, but he was
+surely not so blind as to overlook the evidences of Mrs. Goddard's age.
+All the dreams of that morning faded away before the sight of her face,
+and so deep is the turpitude of the best of human hearts that John was
+almost ashamed of having once thought he loved her. That was probably the
+best possible proof that his love had been but a boyish fancy.
+
+What the little party at the vicarage would have been like, if John's
+presence had not animated it, would be hard to say. The squire and Mr.
+Ambrose treated Mrs. Goddard with the sort of paternal but solemn care
+which is usually bestowed either upon great invalids or upon persons
+bereaved of some very dear relation. The two elder men occasionally
+looked at her and exchanged glances when they were not observed by Mrs.
+Ambrose, wondering perhaps what would next befall the unfortunate lady
+and whether she could bear much more of the excitement and anxiety to
+which she had of late been subjected. On the whole the conversation was
+far from being lively, and Mrs. Goddard herself felt that it was a relief
+when the hour came for going home.
+
+The vicar had ordered his dog-cart for her and Nellie, but as the night
+had turned out better than had been expected Mr. Juxon's groom had not
+come down from the Hall. Both he and John would be glad of the walk; it
+had not rained for two days and the roads were dry.
+
+"Look here," said the squire, as they rose to take their leave, "Mr.
+Short had better go as far as the cottage in the dog-cart, to see Mrs.
+Goddard home. I will go ahead on foot--I shall probably be there as soon
+as you. There is not room for us all, and somebody must go with her, you
+know. Besides," he added, "I have got Stamboul with me."
+
+Mrs. Goddard, who was standing beside the squire, laid her hand
+beseechingly upon his arm.
+
+"Oh, pray don't," she said in low voice. "Why have you not got your
+carriage?"
+
+"Never mind me," he answered in the same tone. "I am all right, I like to
+walk."
+
+Before she could say anything more, he had shaken hands with Mr. and Mrs.
+Ambrose and was gone. Perhaps in his general determination to be good to
+everybody he fancied that John would enjoy the short drive with Mrs.
+Goddard better than the walk with himself.
+
+But when he was gone, Mrs. Goddard grew very nervous. One of her wraps
+could not be found, and while search was being made for it the motherly
+Mrs. Ambrose insisted upon giving her something hot, in the way of brandy
+and water. She looked very ill, but showed the strongest desire to go. It
+was no matter about the shawl, she said; Mr. Ambrose could send it in the
+morning; but the thing was found and at last Mrs. Goddard and Nellie and
+John got into the dog-cart with old Reynolds and drove off. All these
+things consumed some time.
+
+The squire on the other hand strode briskly forward towards the cottage,
+not wishing to keep John waiting for him. As he walked his mind wandered
+back to the consideration of the almost tragic events which were
+occurring in the peaceful village. He forgot all about John, as he looked
+up at the half moon which struggled to give some light through the
+driving clouds; he fell to thinking of Mrs. Goddard and to wondering
+where her husband might be lying hidden. The road was lonely and he
+walked fast, with Stamboul close at his heel. The dog-cart did not
+overtake him before he reached the cottage, and he forgot all about it.
+By sheer force of habit he opened the white gate and, closing it behind
+him, entered the park alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the
+vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she
+betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave
+face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid
+since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about
+him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to
+offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and
+had been very much surprised at the squire's sudden determination to walk
+home; he would gladly have seized his hat and run after his friend, but
+he feared Mrs. Ambrose's curiosity and moreover on reflection felt sure
+that the dog-cart would overtake Mr. Juxon before he was half way to the
+cottage. He was very far from suspecting him of the absence of mind which
+he actually displayed, but it was a great relief to him to see the little
+party safe in the dog-cart and on the way homeward.
+
+Mrs. Goddard was on the front seat with old Reynolds, and John, who would
+have preferred to sit by her side a few months ago, was glad to find
+himself behind with Nellie. It was a curious instinct, but he felt it
+strongly and was almost grateful to the old man for stolidly keeping his
+seat. So he sat beside Nellie and talked to her, to the child's intense
+delight; she had not enjoyed the evening very much, for she felt the
+general sense of oppression as keenly as children always feel such
+things, and she had long exhausted the slender stock of illustrated books
+which lay upon the table in the vicarage drawing-room.
+
+"There is no more skating now," said John. "What do you do to amuse
+yourselves?"
+
+"I am studying history with mamma," answered Nellie, "and that takes ever
+so much time, you know. And then--oh, we are beginning to think of the
+spring, and we look after the violet plants in the frames."
+
+"It does not feel much like spring," remarked John.
+
+"No--and mamma has not been well lately, so we have not done much of
+anything."
+
+"Has she been ill long?" asked John.
+
+"No--oh no! Only the last two or three days, ever since--" Nellie stopped
+herself. Her mother had told her not to mention the tramp's visit.
+
+"Ever since when?" asked John, becoming suddenly interested.
+
+"Ever since the last time the Ambroses came to tea," said Nellie with a
+readiness beyond her years. "But she looks dreadfully, does not she?"
+
+"Dreadfully," answered John. Then, leaning back and turning his head he
+spoke to Mrs. Goddard. "I hope you are quite warm enough?" he said.
+
+"Quite--thanks," answered she, but her voice sounded tremulous in the
+night. It might have been the shaking of the dog-cart. In a few minutes
+they drew up before the door of the cottage. John sprang to the ground
+and almost lifted Mrs. Goddard from the high seat.
+
+"Where is Mr. Juxon?" she asked anxiously.
+
+John looked round, peering into the gloom. A black cloud driven by the
+strong east wind was passing over the moon, and for some moments it was
+almost impossible to see anything. The squire was nowhere to be seen.
+John turned and helped Nellie off the back seat of the dog-cart.
+
+"I am afraid we must have passed him," he said quietly. Formerly Mrs.
+Goddard's tone of anxiety as she asked for the squire would have roused
+John's resentment; he now thought nothing of it. Reynolds prepared to
+move off.
+
+"Won't you please wait a moment, Reynolds?" said Mrs. Goddard, going
+close to the old man. She could not have told why she asked him to stay,
+it was a nervous impulse.
+
+"Why?" asked John. "You know I am going to the Hall."
+
+"Yes, of course. I only thought, perhaps, you and Mr. Juxon would like to
+drive up--it is so dark. I am sure Mr. Ambrose would not mind you taking
+the gentlemen up to the Hall, Reynolds?"
+
+"No m'm. I'm quite sure as he wouldn't," exclaimed Reynolds with great
+alacrity. He immediately had visions of a pint of beer in the Hall
+kitchen.
+
+"You do not think Mr. Juxon may have gone on alone, Mr. Short?" said Mrs.
+Goddard, leaning upon the wicket gate. Her face looked very pale in the
+gloom.
+
+"No--at would be very odd if he did," replied John, who had his hands in
+his greatcoat pockets and slowly stamped one foot after another on the
+hard ground, to keep himself warm.
+
+"Then we must have passed him on the road," said Mrs. Goddard. "But I was
+so sure I saw nobody--"
+
+"I think he will come presently," answered John in a reassuring tone.
+"Why do you wait, Mrs. Goddard? You must be cold, and it is dangerous for
+you to be out here. Don't wait, Reynolds," he added; "we will walk up."
+
+"Oh please don't," cried Mrs. Goddard, imploringly.
+
+John looked at her in some surprise. The cloud suddenly passed from
+before the moon and he could see her anxious upturned face quite plainly.
+He could not in the least understand the cause of her anxiety, but he
+supposed her nervousness was connected with her indisposition. Reynolds
+on his part, being anxious for beer, showed no disposition to move, but
+sat with stolid indifference, loosely holding the reins while Strawberry,
+the old mare, hung down her head and stamped from time to time in a
+feeble and antiquated fashion. For some minutes there was total silence.
+Not a step was to be heard upon the road, not a sound of any kind, save
+the strong east wind rushing past the cottage and losing itself among the
+withered oaks of the park opposite.
+
+Suddenly a deep and bell-mouthed note resounded through the air.
+Strawberry started in the shafts and trembled violently.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul!" The squire's ringing voice was heard far up the
+park. The bloodhound's distant baying suddenly ceased. John thought he
+heard a fainter cry, inarticulate, and full of distress, through the
+sighing wind. Then there was silence again. Mrs. Goddard leaned back
+against the wicket gate, and Nellie, startled by the noises, pressed
+close to her mother's side.
+
+"Why--he has gone up the park!" exclaimed John in great surprise. "He was
+calling to his dog--"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Short!" cried Mrs. Goddard in agonised tones, as soon as she
+could speak, "I am sure something dreadful has happened--do go. Mr.
+Short--do go and see--"
+
+Something of the extreme alarm that sounded in her voice seized upon
+John.
+
+"Stay with Mrs. Goddard, Reynolds," he said quickly and darted across the
+road towards the park gate. John was strong and active. He laid his
+hands upon the highest rails and vaulted lightly over, then ran at the
+top of his speed up the dark avenue.
+
+Mr. Juxon, in his absence of mind, had gone through the gate alone,
+swinging his blackthorn stick in his hand, Stamboul stalking at his heel
+in the gloom. He was a fearless man and the presence of John during the
+afternoon had completely dissolved that nervous presentiment of evil he
+had felt before his guest's coming. But in the short walk of scarcely
+half a mile, from the vicarage to the cottage, his thoughts had become
+entirely absorbed in considering Mrs. Goddard's strange position, and for
+the moment John was quite forgotten. He entered the park and the long
+iron latch of the wooden gate fell into its socket behind him with a
+sharp click. Mr. Juxon walked quickly on and Stamboul trod noiselessly
+behind him. At about a hundred yards from the gate the avenue turned
+sharply to the right, winding about a little elevation in the ground,
+where the trees stood thicker than elsewhere. As he came towards this
+hillock the strong east wind blew sharply behind him. Had the wind been
+in the opposite direction, Stamboul's sharp nostrils would have scented
+danger. As it was he gave no sign but stalked solemnly at the squire's
+heels. The faint light of the half moon was obscured at that moment, as
+has been seen, by a sweeping cloud. The squire turned to the right and
+tramped along the hard road.
+
+At the darkest spot in the way a man sprang out suddenly before him and
+struck a quick blow at his head with something heavy. But it was very
+dark. The blow was aimed at his head, but fell upon the heavy padded
+frieze of his ulster greatcoat, grazing the brim of his hat as it passed
+and knocking it off his head. Mr. Juxon staggered and reeled to one side.
+At the same instant--it all happened in the space of two seconds,
+Stamboul sprang past his master and his bulk, striking the squire at the
+shoulder just as he was staggering from the blow he had received, sent
+him rolling into the ditch; by the same cause the hound's direction as he
+leaped was just so changed that he missed his aim and bounded past the
+murderer into the darkness. Before the gigantic beast could recover
+himself and turn to spring again, Walter Goddard, who had chanced never
+to see Stamboul and little suspected his presence, leaped the ditch and
+fled rapidly through the dark shadow. But death was at his heels. Before
+the squire, who was very little hurt, could get upon his feet, the
+bloodhound had found the scent and, uttering his deep-mouthed baying
+note, sprang upon the track of the flying man. Mr. Juxon got across the
+ditch and followed him into the gloom.
+
+"Stamboul! Stamboul!" he roared as he ran. But before he had gone thirty
+yards he heard a heavy fall. The hound's cry ceased and a short scream
+broke the silence.
+
+A moment later the squire was dragging the infuriated animal from the
+prostrate body of Walter Goddard. Stamboul had tasted blood; it was no
+easy matter to make him relinquish his prey. The cloud passed from the
+moon, driven before the blast, and a ray of light fell through the trees
+upon the scene. Juxon stood wrestling with his hound, holding to his
+heavy collar with both hands with all his might. He dared not let go for
+an instant, well knowing that the frenzied beast would tear his victim
+limb from limb. But Juxon's hands were strong, and though Stamboul
+writhed and his throat rattled he could not free himself. The squire
+glanced at the body of the fallen man, just visible in the flickering
+moonlight. Walter Goddard lay quite still upon his back. If he was badly
+wounded it was not possible to say where the wound was.
+
+It was a terrible moment. Mr. Juxon felt that he could not leave the man
+thus, not knowing whether he were alive or dead; and yet while all his
+strength was exerted to the full in controlling the bloodhound, it was
+impossible to approach a step nearer. He was beginning to think that he
+should be obliged to take Stamboul to the Hall and return again to the
+scene of the disaster.
+
+"Mr. Juxon! Juxon! Juxon!" John was shouting as he ran up the park.
+
+"This way! look sharp!" yelled the squire, foreseeing relief. John's
+quick footsteps rang on the hard road. The squire called again and in a
+moment the young man had joined him and stood horror-struck at what he
+saw.
+
+"Don't touch the dog!" cried the squire. "Don't come near him, I say!" he
+added as John came forward. "There--there has been an accident, Mr.
+Short," he added in calmer tones. "Would you mind seeing if the fellow is
+alive?"
+
+John was too much startled to say anything, but he went and knelt down by
+Goddard's body and looked into his face.
+
+"Feel his pulse," said the squire. "Listen at his heart." To him it
+seemed a very simple matter to ascertain whether a man were alive or
+dead. But John was nervous; he had never seen a dead man in his life and
+felt that natural repulsion to approaching death which is common to all
+living creatures. There was no help for it, however, and he took Walter
+Goddard's limp hand in his and tried to find his pulse; he could not
+distinguish any beating. The hand fell nerveless to the ground.
+
+"I think he is dead," said John very softly, and he rose to his feet and
+drew back a little way from the body.
+
+"Then just wait five minutes for me, if you do not mind," said Mr. Juxon,
+and he turned away dragging the reluctant and still struggling Stamboul
+by his side.
+
+John shuddered when he was left alone. It was indeed a dismal scene
+enough. At his feet lay Walter Goddard's body, faintly illuminated by the
+struggling moonbeams; all around and overhead the east wind was howling
+and whistling and sighing in the dry oak branches, whirling hither and
+thither the few brown leaves that had clung to their hold throughout the
+long winter; the sound of the squire's rapidly retreating footsteps grew
+more faint in the distance; John felt that he was alone and was very
+uncomfortable. He would have liked to go back to the cottage and tell
+Mrs. Goddard of what had happened, and that Mr. Juxon was safe; but he
+thought the squire might return and find that he had left his post and
+accuse him of cowardice. He drew back from the man's body and sheltered
+himself from the wind, leaning against the broad trunk of an old oak
+tree. He had not stood thus many minutes when he heard the sound of
+wheels upon the hard road. It might be Mrs. Goddard, he thought. With one
+more glance at the prostrate body, he turned away and hurried through the
+trees towards the avenue. The bright lamps of the dog-cart were almost
+close before him. He shouted to Reynolds.
+
+"Whoa, January!" ejaculated that ancient functionary as he pulled up
+Strawberry close to John Short. Why the natives of Essex and especially
+of Billingsfield habitually address their beasts of burden as "January"
+is a matter best left to the discrimination of philologers; obedient to
+the familiar words however, Strawberry stood still in the middle of the
+road. John could see that Mrs. Goddard was seated by the side of Reynolds
+but that Nellie was not in the cart.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Goddard, is that you?" said John. "Mr. Juxon will be here in a
+moment. Don't be frightened--he is not hurt in the least; awfully bad
+luck for the tramp, though!"
+
+"The tramp?" repeated Mrs. Goddard with a faint cry of horror.
+
+"Yes," said John, whose spirits rose wonderfully in the light of the
+dog-cart lamps. "There was a poor tramp hanging about the park--poaching,
+very likely--and Mr. Juxon's dog got after him, somehow, I suppose. I do
+not know how it happened, but when I came up--oh! here is Mr. Juxon
+himself--he will tell you all about it."
+
+The squire came up in breathless haste, having locked Stamboul into the
+house.
+
+"Good Heavens! Mrs. Goddard!" he ejaculated in a tone of profound
+surprise. But Mrs. Goddard gave no answer. The squire sprang upon the
+step and looked closely at her. She lay back against old Reynolds's
+shoulder, very pale, with her eyes shut. It was evident that she had
+fainted. The old man seemed not to comprehend what had happened; he
+had never experienced the sensation of having a lady leaning upon his
+shoulder, and he looked down at her with a half idiotic smile on his
+deeply furrowed face.
+
+"She's took wuss, sir," he remarked. "She was all for comin' up the park
+as soon as Master John was gone. She warn't feelin' herself o' no account
+t' evenin'."
+
+"Look here, Mr. Short," said the squire decisively. "I must ask you to
+take Mrs. Goddard home again and call her women to look after her. I
+fancy she will come to herself before long. Do you mind?"
+
+"Not in the least," said John cheerfully, mounting at the back of the
+dog-cart.
+
+"And--Reynolds--bring Mr. Short back to the Hall immediately, please, and
+you shall have some beer."
+
+"All right, sir."
+
+John supported the fainting lady with one arm, turning round upon his
+seat at the back. Old Strawberry wheeled quickly in her tracks and
+trotted down the avenue under the evident impression that she was going
+home. Mr. Juxon dashed across the ditch again to the place where Walter
+Goddard had fallen.
+
+The squire knelt down and tried to ascertain the extent of the man's
+injuries; as far as he could see there was a bad wound at his throat, and
+one hand was much mangled. But there seemed to have been no great flow of
+blood. He tore open the smock-frock and shirt and put his ear to the
+heart. Faintly, very faintly, he could hear it beat. Walter Goddard was
+alive still--alive to live for years perhaps, the squire reflected; to
+live in a prison, it was true, but to live. To describe his feelings in
+that moment would be impossible. Had he found the convict dead, it would
+be useless to deny that he would have felt a very great satisfaction,
+tempered perhaps by some pity for the wretched man's miserable end, but
+still very great. It would have seemed such a just end, after all; to be
+killed in the attempt to kill, and to have died not by the squire's hand
+but by the sharp strong jaws of the hound who had once before saved the
+squire's life. But he was alive. It would not take much to kill him; a
+little pressure on his wounded throat would be enough. Even to leave
+him there, uncared for, till morning in the bleak wind, lying upon the
+cold ground, would be almost certain to put an end to his life. But to
+the honour of Charles James Juxon be it said that such thoughts never
+crossed his mind. He pulled off his heavy ulster greatcoat, wrapped it
+about the felon's insensible body, then, kneeling, raised up his head and
+shoulders, got his strong arms well round him and with some difficulty
+rose to his feet. Once upright, it was no hard matter to carry his
+burthen through the trees to the road, and up the avenue to his own door.
+
+"Holmes," said Mr. Juxon to his butler, "this man is badly hurt, but he
+is alive. Help me to carry him upstairs."
+
+There was that in the squire's voice which brooked neither question nor
+delay when he was in earnest. The solemn butler took Walter Goddard by
+the feet and the squire took him by the shoulders; so they carried him up
+to a bedroom and laid him down, feeling for the bed in the dark as they
+moved. Holmes then lit a candle with great calmness.
+
+"Shall I send for the medical man, sir?" he asked quietly.
+
+"Yes. Send the gig as fast as possible. If he is not at home, or cannot
+be found, send on to the town. If anybody asks questions say the man is a
+tramp who attacked me in the park and Stamboul pulled him down. Send at
+once, and bring me some brandy and light the fire here."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Holmes, and left the room.
+
+Mr. Juxon lighted other candles and examined the injured man. There was
+now no doubt that he was alive. He breathed faintly but regularly; his
+pulse beat less rapidly and more firmly. His face was deadly pale and
+very thin, and his half-opened eyes stared unconsciously upwards, but
+they were not glazed nor death-like. He seemed to have lost little
+blood, comparatively speaking.
+
+"Bah!" ejaculated the squire. "I believe he is only badly frightened,
+after all."
+
+Holmes brought brandy and warm water and again left the room. Mr. Juxon
+bathed Goddard's face and neck with a sponge, eying him suspiciously all
+the while. It would not have surprised him at any moment if he had leaped
+from the bed and attempted to escape. To guard against surprise, the
+squire locked the door and put the key in his pocket, watching the
+convict to see whether he noticed the act or was really unconscious. But
+Goddard never moved nor turned his motionless eyeballs. Mr. Juxon
+returned to his side, and with infinite care began to remove his clothes.
+They were almost in rags. He examined each article, and was surprised to
+find money in the pockets, amounting to nearly sixty pounds; then he
+smiled to himself, remembering that the convict had visited his wife and
+had doubtless got the money from her to aid him in his escape. He put the
+notes and gold carefully together in a drawer after counting them, and
+returning to his occupation succeeded at last in putting Goddard to bed,
+after staunching his wounds as well as he could with handkerchiefs.
+
+He stood long by the bedside, watching the man's regular breathing, and
+examining his face attentively. Many strange thoughts passed through his
+mind, as he stood there, looking at the man who had caused such misery to
+himself, such shame and sorrow to his fair wife, such disappointment to
+the honest man who was now trying to save him from the very grasp of
+death. So this was Mary Goddard's husband, little Nellie's father--this
+grimy wretch, whose foul rags lay heaped there in the corner, whose
+miserable head pressed the spotless linen of the pillow, whose
+half-closed eyes stared up so senselessly at the squire's face. This was
+the man for whose sake Mary Goddard started and turned pale, fainted and
+grew sick, languished and suffered so much pain. No wonder she concealed
+it from Nellie--no wonder she had feared lest after many years he should
+come back and claim her for his wife--no wonder either that a man with
+such a face should do bad deeds.
+
+Mr. Juxon was a judge of faces; persons accustomed for many years to
+command men usually are. He noted Walter Goddard's narrow jaw and pointed
+chin, his eyes set near together, his wicked lips, parted and revealing
+sharp jagged teeth, his ill-shaped ears and shallow temples, his flat low
+forehead, shown off by his cropped hair. And yet this man had once been
+called handsome, he had been admired and courted. But then his hair had
+hidden the shape of his head, his long golden moustache had covered his
+mouth and disguised all his lower features, he had been arrayed by
+tailors of artistic merit, and he had had much gold in his pockets. He
+was a very different object now--the escaped convict, close cropped, with
+a half-grown beard upon his ill-shaped face, and for all ornament a linen
+sheet drawn up under his chin.
+
+The squire was surprised that he did not recover consciousness, seeing
+that he breathed regularly and was no longer so pale as at first. A faint
+flush seemed to rise to his sunken cheeks, and for a long time Mr. Juxon
+stood beside him, expecting every moment that he would speak. Once he
+thought his lips moved a little. Then Mr. Juxon took a little brandy in a
+spoon and raising his head poured it down his throat. The effect was
+immediate. Goddard opened wide his eyes, the blood mounted to his cheeks
+with a deep flush, and he uttered an inarticulate sound.
+
+"What did you say?" asked the squire, bending over him.
+
+But there was no answer. The sick man's head fell back upon the pillow,
+though his eyes remained wide open and the flush did not leave his
+cheeks. His pulse was now very high, and his breathing grew heavy and
+stertorous.
+
+"I hope I have not made him any worse," remarked Mr. Juxon aloud, as he
+contemplated his patient. "But if he is going to die, I wish he would die
+now."
+
+The thought was charitable, on the whole. If Walter Goddard died then and
+there, he would be buried in a nameless grave under the shadow of the
+old church; no one would ever know that he was the celebrated forger, the
+escaped convict, the husband of Mary Goddard. If he lived--heaven alone
+knew what complications would follow if he lived.
+
+There was a knock at the door. Mr. Juxon drew the key from his pocket and
+opened it. Holmes the butler stood outside.
+
+"Mr. Short has come back, sir. He asked if you wished to see him."
+
+"Ask him to come here," replied the squire, to whom the tension of
+keeping his solitary watch was becoming very irksome. In a few moments
+John entered the room, looking pale and nervous.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+John Short was in absolute ignorance of what was occurring. He attributed
+Mrs. Goddard's anxiety to her solicitude for Mr. Juxon, and if he had
+found time to give the matter serious consideration, he would have argued
+very naturally that she was fond of the squire. It had been less easy
+than the latter had supposed to take her home and persuade her to stay
+there, for she was in a state in which she hardly understood reason.
+Nothing but John's repeated assurances to the effect that Mr. Juxon was
+not in the least hurt, and that he would send her word of the condition
+of the wounded tramp, prevailed upon her to remain at the cottage; for
+she had come back to consciousness before the dog-cart was fairly out of
+the park and had almost refused to enter her own home.
+
+The catastrophe had happened, after eight and forty hours of suspense,
+and her position was one of extreme fear and doubt. She had indeed seen
+the squire at the very moment when she fainted, but the impression was
+uncertain as that of a dream, and it required all John's asseverations to
+persuade her that Mr. Juxon had actually met her and insisted that she
+should return to the cottage. Once there, in her own house, she abandoned
+herself to the wildest excitement, shutting herself into the drawing-room
+and refusing to see anyone; she gave way to all her sorrow and fear,
+feeling that if she controlled herself any longer she must go mad. Indeed
+it was the best thing she could do, for her nerves were overstrained, and
+the hysterical weeping which now completely overpowered her for some
+time, was the natural relief to her overwrought system. She had not the
+slightest doubt that the tramp of whom John had spoken, and whom he had
+described as badly hurt, was her husband; and together with her joy at
+Mr. Juxon's escape, she felt an intolerable anxiety to know Walter's
+fate. If in ordinary circumstances she had been informed that he had died
+in prison, it would have been absurd to expect her to give way to any
+expressions of excessive grief; she would perhaps have shed a few womanly
+tears and for some time she would have been more sad than usual; but she
+no longer loved him and his death could only be regarded as a release
+from all manner of trouble and shame and evil foreboding. With his
+decease would have ended her fears for poor Nellie, her apprehensions for
+the future in case he should return and claim her, the whole weight of
+her humiliation, and if she was too kind to have rejoiced over such a
+termination of her woes, she was yet too sensible not to have fully
+understood and appreciated the fact of her liberation and of the freedom
+given to the child she loved, by the death of a father whose return could
+bring nothing but disgrace. But now she did not know whether Walter were
+alive or dead. If he was alive he was probably so much injured as to
+preclude all possibility of his escaping, and he must inevitably be given
+up to justice, no longer to imprisonment merely, but by his own
+confession to suffer the death of a murderer. If on the other hand he
+was already dead, he had died a death less shameful indeed, but of which
+the circumstances were too horrible for his wife to contemplate, for he
+must have been torn to pieces by Stamboul the bloodhound.
+
+She unconsciously comprehended all these considerations, which entirely
+deprived her of the power to weigh them in her mind, for her mind was
+temporarily loosed from all control of the reasoning faculty. She had
+borne much during the last three days, but she could bear no more;
+intellect and sensibility were alike exhausted and gave way together.
+There were indeed moments, intervals in the fits of hysteric tears
+and acute mental torture, when she lay quite still in her chair and
+vaguely asked herself what it all meant, but her disturbed consciousness
+gave no answer to the question, and presently her tears broke out afresh
+and she tossed wildly from side to side, or walked hurriedly up and down
+the room, wringing her hands in despair, sobbing aloud in her agony and
+again abandoning herself to the uncontrolled exaggerations of her grief
+and terror. One consolation alone presented itself at intervals to her
+confused intelligence; Mr. Juxon was safe. Whatever other fearful thing
+had happened, he was safe, saved perhaps by her warning--but what was
+that, if Walter had escaped death only to die at the hands of the
+hangman, or had found it in the jaws of that fearful bloodhound? What was
+the safety even of her best friend, if poor Nellie was to know that her
+father was alive, only to learn that he was to die again?
+
+But human suffering cannot outlast human strength; as a marvellous
+adjustment of forces has ordered that even at the pole, in the regions of
+boundless and perpetual cold, the sea shall not freeze to the bottom, so
+there is also in human nature a point beyond which suffering cannot
+extend. The wildest emotions must expend themselves in time, the fiercest
+passions must burn out. At the end of two hours Mary Goddard was
+exhausted by the vehemence of her hysteric fear, and woke as from a dream
+to a dull sense of reality. She knew, now that some power of reflection
+was restored to her, that the squire would give her intelligence of what
+had happened, so soon as he was able, and she knew also that she must
+wait until the morning before any such message could reach her. She took
+the candle from the table and went upstairs. Nellie was asleep, but her
+mother felt a longing to look at her again that night, not knowing what
+misery for her child the morrow might bring forth.
+
+Nellie lay asleep in her bed, her rich brown hair plaited together and
+thrown back across the pillow. The long dark fringes of her eyelashes
+cast a shade upon the transparent colour of her cheek, and the light
+breath came softly through her parted lips. But as Mary Goddard looked
+she saw that there were still tears upon her lovely face and that the
+pillow was still wet. She had cried herself to sleep, for Martha had told
+her that her mother was very ill and would not see her that night; Nellie
+was accustomed to say her prayers at her mother's knee every evening
+before going to bed, she was used to having her mother smooth her pillow
+and kiss her and put out her light, leaving her with sweet words, to wake
+her with sweet words on the next morning, and to-night she had missed all
+this and had been told moreover that her mother was very ill and was
+acting very strangely. She had gone to bed and had cried herself to
+sleep, and the tears were still upon her cheeks. Shading the light
+carefully from the child's eyes, Mary Goddard bent down and kissed her
+forehead once and then feeling that her sorrow was rising again she
+turned and passed noiselessly from the room.
+
+But Nellie was dreaming peacefully and knew nothing of her mother's
+visit; she slept on not knowing that scarcely a quarter of a mile away
+her own father, whom she had been taught to think of as dead, was
+lying at the Hall, wounded and unconscious while half the detectives in
+the kingdom were looking for him. Had Nellie known that, her sleep would
+have been little and her dreams few.
+
+There was little rest at the Hall that night. When Reynolds had driven
+John back to the great house he found his way to the kitchen and got his
+beer, and he became at once a centre of interest, being overwhelmed with
+questions concerning the events of the evening. But he was able to say
+very little except that while waiting before the cottage he had heard
+strange noises from the park, that Master John had run up the avenue,
+that Mrs. Goddard had taken Miss Nellie into the house and had then
+insisted upon being driven towards the Hall, that they had met Master
+John and the squire and that Mrs. Goddard had been "took wuss."
+
+Meanwhile John entered the room where Mr. Juxon was watching over Walter
+Goddard. John looked pale and nervous; he had not recovered from the
+unpleasant sensation of being left alone with what he believed to be a
+dead body, in the struggling moonlight and the howling wind. He was by no
+means timid by nature, but young nerves are not so tough as old ones and
+he had felt exceedingly uncomfortable. He stood a moment within the room,
+then glanced at the bed and started with surprise.
+
+"Why--he is not dead after all!" he exclaimed, and going nearer he looked
+hard at Goddard's flushed face.
+
+"No," said Mr. Juxon, "he is not dead. He may be dying for all I know. I
+have sent for the doctor."
+
+"Was he much hurt?" asked John, still looking at the sick man. "He looks
+to me as though he were in a fever."
+
+"He does not seem so badly hurt. I cannot make it out at all. At first I
+thought he was badly frightened, but I cannot bring him to consciousness.
+Perhaps he has a fever, as you say. This is a most unpleasant experience,
+Mr. Short--your first night at the Hall, too. Of course I am bound to
+look after the man, as Stamboul did the damage--it would have served him
+right if he had been killed. It was a villainous blow he gave me--I can
+feel it still. The moral of it is that one should always wear a thick
+ulster when one walks alone at night."
+
+"I did not know he struck you," said John in some surprise.
+
+"Jumped out of the copse at the turning and struck at me with a
+bludgeon," said Mr. Juxon. "Knocked my hat off, into the bargain, and
+then ran away with Stamboul after him. If I had not come up in time
+there would have been nothing left of him."
+
+"I should say the dog saved your life," remarked John, much impressed by
+the squire's unadorned tale. "What object can the fellow have had in
+attacking you? Strange--his eyes are open, but he does not seem to
+understand us."
+
+Mr. Juxon walked to the bedside and contemplated the sick man's features
+with undisguised disgust.
+
+"You villain!" he said roughly. "Why don't you answer for yourself?" The
+man did not move, and the squire began to pace the room. John was struck
+by Mr. Juxon's tone: it was not like him, he thought, to speak in that
+way to a helpless creature. He could not understand it. There was a long
+silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of Goddard.
+
+"Really, Mr. Short," said the squire at last, "I have no intention of
+keeping you up all night. The village doctor must have been out. It may
+be more than an hour before my man finds another."
+
+"Never mind," said John quietly. "I will wait till he comes at all
+events. You may need me before it is over."
+
+"Do you think he looks as if he were going to die?" asked the squire
+doubtfully, as he again approached the bedside.
+
+"I don't know," answered John, standing on the other side. "I never saw
+any one die. He looks very ill."
+
+"Very ill. I have seen many people die--but somehow I have a strong
+impression that this fellow will live."
+
+"Let us hope so," said John.
+
+"Well--" The squire checked himself. Probably the hope he would have
+expressed would not have coincided with that to which John had given
+utterance. "Well," he repeated, "I daresay he will. Mr. Short, are you at
+all nervous? Since you are so good as to say you will wait until the
+doctor comes, would you mind very much being left alone here for five
+minutes?"
+
+"No," answered John, stoutly, "not in the least." To be left in a
+well-lighted room by the bedside of Walter Goddard, ill indeed, but alive
+and breathing vigorously, was very different from being requested to
+watch his apparently dead body out in the park under the moonlight.
+
+With a word of thanks, the squire left the room, and hastened to his
+study, where he proceeded to write a note, as follows:--
+
+"MY DEAR MR. AMBROSE--The man we were speaking of yesterday morning
+actually attacked me this evening. Stamboul worried him badly, but he is
+not dead. He is lying here, well cared for, and I have sent for the
+doctor. If convenient to you, would you come in the morning? I need not
+recommend discretion.--Sincerely yours,
+
+"C.J. JUXON.
+_N.B._--I am not hurt."
+
+Having ascertained that Reynolds was still in the kitchen, the missive
+was given to the old man with an injunction to use all speed, as the
+vicar might be going to bed and the note was important.
+
+John, meanwhile, being left alone sat down near the wounded man's bed and
+waited, glancing at the flushed face and staring eyes from time to time,
+and wondering whether the fellow would recover. The young scholar had
+been startled by all that had occurred, and his ideas wandered back to
+the beginning of the evening, scarcely realising that a few hours ago he
+had not met Mrs. Goddard, had not experienced a surprising change in his
+feelings towards her, had not witnessed the strange scene under the
+trees. It seemed as though all these things had occupied a week at the
+very least, whereas on that same afternoon he had been speculating upon
+his meeting with Mrs. Goddard, calling up her features to his mind as he
+had last seen them, framing speeches which when the meeting came he had
+not delivered, letting his mind run riot in the delicious anticipation of
+appearing before her in the light of a successful competitor for one of
+the greatest honours of English scholarship. And yet in a few hours all
+his feelings were changed, and to his infinite surprise, were changed
+without any suffering to himself; he knew well that, for some reason,
+Mrs. Goddard had lost the mysterious power of making him blush, and of
+sending strange thrills through his whole nature when he sat at her side;
+with some justice he attributed his new indifference to the extraordinary
+alteration in her appearance, whereby she seemed now so much older than
+himself, and he forthwith moralised upon the mutability of human affairs,
+with all the mental fluency of a very young man whose affairs are still
+extremely mutable. He fell to musing on the accident in the park,
+wondering how he would have acted in Mr. Juxon's place, wondering
+especially what object could have led the wretched tramp to attack the
+squire, wondering too at the very great anxiety shown by Mrs. Goddard.
+
+As he sat by the bedside, the sick man suddenly moved and turning his
+eyes full upon John's face stared at him with a look of dazed surprise.
+He thrust out his wounded hand, bound up in a white handkerchief through
+which a little blood was slowly oozing, and to John's infinite surprise
+he spoke.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked in a strange, mumbling voice, as though he had
+pebbles in his mouth.
+
+John started forward in his chair and looked intently at Goddard's face.
+
+"My name is Short," he answered mechanically. But the passing flash of
+intelligence was already gone, and Goddard's look became a glassy and
+idiotic stare. Still his lips moved. John came nearer and listened.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" said the sick man quite
+intelligibly, in spite of his uncertain tone. John uttered an exclamation
+of astonishment; his heart beat fast and he listened intently. The sick
+man mumbled inarticulate sounds; not another word could be distinguished.
+John looked for the bell, thinking that Mr. Juxon should be informed of
+the strange phenomenon at once; but before he could ring the squire
+himself entered the room, having finished and despatched his note to Mr.
+Ambrose.
+
+"It is most extraordinary," said John. "He spoke just now--"
+
+"What did he say?" asked Mr. Juxon very quickly.
+
+"He said first, 'Who are you?' and then he said 'Mary Goddard, let me
+in!' Is it not most extraordinary? How in the world should he know
+about Mrs. Goddard?"
+
+The squire turned a little pale and was silent for a moment. He had left
+John with the wounded man feeling sure that, for some time at least, the
+latter would not be likely to say anything intelligible.
+
+"Most extraordinary!" he repeated presently. Then he looked at Goddard
+closely, and turned him again upon his back and put his injured hand
+beneath the sheet.
+
+"Do you understand me? Do you know who I am?" he asked in a loud tone
+close to his ear.
+
+But the unfortunate man gave no sign of intelligence, only his
+inarticulate mumbling grew louder though not more distinct. Mr. Juxon
+turned away impatiently.
+
+"The fellow is in a delirium," he said. "I wish the doctor would come."
+He had hardly turned his back when the man spoke again.
+
+"Mary Goddard!" he cried. "Let me in!"
+
+"There!" said John. "The same words!"
+
+Mr. Juxon shuddered, and looked curiously at his companion; then thrust
+his hands into his pockets and whistling softly walked about the room.
+John was shocked at what seemed in the squire a sort of indecent levity;
+he could not understand that his friend felt as though he should go mad.
+
+Indeed the squire suffered intensely. The name of Mary Goddard,
+pronounced by the convict in his delirium brought home more vividly than
+anything could have done the relation between the wounded tramp and the
+woman the squire loved. It was positively true, then--there was not a
+shadow of doubt left, since this wretch lay there mumbling her name in
+his ravings! This was the husband of that gentle creature with sad
+pathetic eyes, so delicate, so refined that it seemed as though the
+coarser breath of the world of sin and shame could never come near
+her--this was her husband! It was horrible. This was the father of lovely
+Nellie, too. Was anything wanting to make the contrast more hideous?
+
+Mr. Juxon felt that it was impossible to foresee what Walter Goddard
+might say in the course of another hour. He had often seen people in a
+delirium and knew how strangely that inarticulate murmuring sometimes
+breaks off into sudden incisive speech, astonishing every one who hears.
+The man had already betrayed that he knew Mary Goddard; at the next
+interval in his ravings he might betray that she was his wife. John was
+still standing by the bedside, not having recovered from his
+astonishment; if John heard any more, he would be in possession of Mrs.
+Goddard's secret. The squire was an energetic man, equal to most
+emergencies; he suddenly made up his mind.
+
+"Mr. Short," he said, "I will tell you something. You will see the
+propriety of being very discreet, in fact it is only to ensure your
+discretion that I wish to tell you this much. I have reason to believe
+that this fellow is a convict--do not be surprised--escaped from prison.
+He is a man who once--was in love with Mrs. Goddard, which accounts for
+his having found his way to Billingsfield. Yes--I know what you are going
+to say--Mrs. Goddard is aware of his presence, and that accounts for her
+excitement and her fainting. Do you understand?"
+
+"But--good heavens!" exclaimed John in amazement. "Why did she not give
+information, if she knew he was in the neighbourhood?"
+
+"That would be more than could be expected of any woman, Mr. Short. You
+forget that the man once loved her."
+
+"And how did you--well, no. I won't ask any questions."
+
+"No," said the squire, "please don't. You would be placing me in a
+disagreeable position. Not that I do not trust you implicitly, Mr.
+Short," he added frankly, "but I should be betraying a confidence. If
+this fellow dies here, he will be buried as an unknown tramp. I found no
+trace of a name upon his clothes. If he recovers, we will decide what
+course to pursue. We will do our best for him--it is a delicate case of
+conscience. Possibly the poor fellow would very much prefer being allowed
+to die; but we cannot let him. Humanity, for some unexplained reason,
+forbids euthanasia and the use of the hemlock in such cases."
+
+"Was he sentenced for a long time?" asked John, very much impressed by
+the gravity of the situation.
+
+"Twelve years originally, I believe. Aggravated by his escape and by his
+assault on me, his term might very likely be extended to twenty years if
+he were taken again."
+
+"That is to say, if he recovers?" inquired John.
+
+"Precisely. I do not think I would hesitate to send him back to prison if
+he recovered."
+
+"I do not wonder you think he would rather die here, if he were
+consulted," said John. "It would not be murder to let him die
+peacefully--"
+
+"In the opinion of the law it might be called manslaughter, though I do
+not suppose anything would be said if I had simply placed him here and
+omitted to call in a physician. He cannot live very long in this state,
+unless something is done for him immediately. Look at him."
+
+There was no apparent change in Goddard's condition. He lay upon his back
+staring straight upward and mumbling aloud with every breath he drew.
+
+"He must have been ill, before he attacked me," continued Mr. Juxon, very
+much as though he were talking to himself. "He evidently is in a raging
+fever--brain fever I should think. That is probably the reason why he
+missed his aim--that and the darkness. If he had been well he would have
+killed me fast enough with that bludgeon. As you say, Mr. Short, there is
+no doubt whatever that he would prefer to die here, if he had his choice.
+In my opinion, too, it would be far more merciful to him and to--to him
+in fact. Nevertheless, neither you nor I would like to remember that we
+had let him die without doing all we could to keep him alive. It is
+a very singular case."
+
+"Most singular," echoed John.
+
+"Besides--there is another thing. Suppose that he had attacked me as he
+did, but that I had killed him with my stick--or that Stamboul had made
+an end of him then and there. The law would have said it served him
+right--would it not? Of course. But if I had not quite killed him, or, as
+has actually happened, he survived the embraces of my dog, the law
+insists that I ought to do everything in my power to save the remnant of
+his life. What for? In order that the law may give itself the
+satisfaction of dealing with him according to its lights. I think the law
+is very greedy, I object to it, I think it is ridiculous from that point
+of view, but then, when I come to examine the thing I find that my own
+conscience tells me to save him, although I think it best that he should
+die. Therefore the law is not ridiculous. Pleasant dilemma--the
+impossible case! The law is at the same time ridiculous and not
+ridiculous. The question is, does the law deduce itself from conscience,
+or is conscience the direct result of existing law?"
+
+The squire appeared to be in a strangely moralising mood, and John
+listened to him with some surprise. He could not understand that the good
+man was talking to persuade himself, and to concentrate his faculties,
+which had been almost unbalanced by the events of the evening.
+
+"I think," said John with remarkable good sense, "that the instinct of
+man is to preserve life when he is calm. When a man is fighting with
+another he is hot and tries to kill his enemy; when the fight is over,
+the natural instinct returns."
+
+"The only thing worth knowing in such cases is the precise point at which
+the fight may be said to be over. I once knew a young surgeon in India
+who thought he had killed a cobra and proceeded to extract the fangs in
+order to examine the poison. Unfortunately the snake was not quite dead;
+he bit the surgeon in the finger and the poor fellow died in
+thirty-five minutes."
+
+"Dreadful!" said John. "But you do not think this poor fellow could do
+anything very dangerous now--do you?"
+
+"Oh, dear me, no!" returned the squire. "I was only stating a case to
+prove that one is sometimes justified in going quite to the end of a
+fight. No indeed! He will not be dangerous for some time, if he ever is
+again. But, as I was saying, he must have been ill some time. Delirium
+never comes on in this way, so soon--"
+
+Some one knocked at the door. It was Holmes, who came to say that the
+physician, Doctor Longstreet, had arrived.
+
+"Oh--it is Doctor Longstreet is it?" said the squire. "Ask him to come
+up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+Doctor Longstreet was not the freethinking physician of Billingsfield.
+The latter was out when Mr. Juxon's groom went in search of him, and the
+man had driven on to the town, six miles away. The doctor was an old man
+with a bright eye, a deeply furrowed forehead, a bald head and clean
+shaved face. He walked as though his frame were set together with springs
+and there was a curious snapping quickness in his speech. He seemed full
+of vitality and bore his years with a jaunty air of merriment which
+inspired confidence, for he seemed perpetually laughing at the ills of
+the flesh and ready to make other people laugh at them too. But his
+bright eyes had a penetrating look and though he judged quickly he
+generally was right in his opinion. He entered the room briskly, not
+knowing that the sick man was there.
+
+"Now, Mr. Juxon," he said cheerfully, "I am with you." He had the habit
+of announcing his presence in this fashion, as though his brisk and
+active personality were likely to be overlooked. A moment later he caught
+sight of the bed. "Dear me," he added in a lower voice, "I did not know
+our patient was here."
+
+He went to Walter Goddard's side, looked at him attentively, felt his
+pulse, and his forehead, glanced at the bandages the squire had roughly
+put upon his throat and hand, drew up the sheet again beneath his chin
+and turned sharply round.
+
+"Brain fever, sir," he said cheerfully. "Brain fever. You must get some
+ice and have some beef tea made as soon as possible. He is in a very
+bad way--curious, too; he looks like a cross between a ticket of leave
+man and a gentleman. Tramp, you say? That would not prevent his being
+either. You cannot disturb him--don't be afraid. He hears nothing--is
+off, the Lord knows where, raving delirious. Must look to his scratches
+though--dangerous--inflammation. Do you mind telling me what
+happened--how long he has been here?"
+
+The squire in a few words informed Doctor Longstreet of the attack made
+upon him in the park. The doctor looked at his watch.
+
+"Only two hours and a half since," he remarked. "It is just midnight now,
+very good--the man must have been in a fever all day--yesterday, too,
+perhaps. He is not badly hurt by the dog--like to see that dog, if you
+don't mind--the fright most likely sent him into delirium. You have
+nothing to accuse yourself of, Mr. Juxon: it was certainly not your
+fault. Even if the dog had not bitten him, he would most likely have been
+in his present state by this time. Would you mind sending for some ice at
+once? Thank you. It was very lucky for the fellow that he attacked you
+just when he did--secured him the chance of being well taken care of. If
+he had gone off like this in the park he would have been dead before
+morning."
+
+The squire rang and sent for the ice the doctor demanded.
+
+"Do you think he will live?" he asked nervously.
+
+"I don't know," answered Doctor Longstreet, frankly. "Nobody can tell. He
+is very much exhausted--may live two or three days in this state and then
+die or go to sleep and get well--may die in the morning--often do--cannot
+say. With a great deal of care, I think he has a chance."
+
+"I am very anxious to save him," said the squire, looking hard at the
+physician.
+
+"Very good of you, I am sure," replied Doctor Longstreet, cheerfully. "It
+is not everybody who would take so much trouble for a tramp. Of course if
+he dies people will say your dog killed him; but I will sign a paper to
+the effect that it is not true. If he had left you and your dog alone, he
+would have been dead in the morning to an absolute certainty."
+
+"How very extraordinary!" exclaimed the squire, suddenly realising that
+instead of causing the man's death Stamboul had perhaps saved his life.
+
+"It was certainly very odd that he should have chosen the best moment for
+assaulting you," continued the doctor. "It is quite possible that even
+then he was under some delusion--took you for somebody else--some old
+enemy. People do queer things in a brain fever. By the bye has he said
+anything intelligible since he has been here?"
+
+John Short who had been standing silently by the bedside during the whole
+interview looked up quickly at the squire, wondering how he would answer.
+But Mr. Juxon did not hesitate.
+
+"Yes. Twice he repeated a woman's name. That is very natural, I suppose.
+Do you think he will have any lucid moments for some time?"
+
+"May," said the doctor, "may. When he does it is likely to be at the
+turning point; he will either die or be better very soon after. If it
+comes soon he may say something intelligible. If he is much more
+exhausted than he is now, he will understand you, but you will not
+understand him. Meningitis always brings a partial paralysis of the
+tongue, when the patient is exhausted. Most probably he will go on
+moaning and mumbling, as he does now, for another day. You will be able
+to tell by his eye whether he understands anything; perhaps he will make
+some sign with his head or hand. Ah--here is the ice."
+
+Doctor Longstreet went about his operations in a rapid and business like
+fashion and John gave what assistance he could. The squire stood leaning
+against the chimney-piece in deep thought.
+
+Indeed he had enough to think of, when he had fully weighed the meaning
+of the doctor's words. He was surprised beyond measure at the turn things
+had taken; for although, as he had previously told John, he suspected
+that Goddard must have been in a fever for several hours before the
+assault, it had not struck him that Stamboul's attack had been absolutely
+harmless, still less that it might prove to have been the means of saving
+the convict's life. It was terribly hard to say that he desired to save
+the man, and yet the honest man in his heart prayed that he might really
+hope for that result. It would be far worse, should Goddard die, to
+remember that he had wished for his death. But it would be hard to
+imagine a more unexpected position than that in which the squire found
+himself; by a perfectly natural chain of circumstances he was now tending
+with the utmost care the man who had tried to murder him, and who of all
+men in the world, stood most in the way of the accomplishment of his
+desires.
+
+He could not hide from himself the fact that he hated the sick man, even
+though he hoped, or tried to hope for his recovery. He hated him for the
+shame and suffering he had brought upon Mary Goddard in the first
+instance, for the terrible anxiety he had caused her by his escape and
+sudden appearance at her house; he hated him for being what he was, being
+also the father of Nellie, and he hated him honestly for his base attempt
+upon himself that night. He had good cause to hate him, and perhaps he
+was not ashamed of his hatred. To be called upon, however, to return good
+for such an accumulated mass of evil was almost too much for his human
+nature. It was but a faint satisfaction to think that if he recovered he
+was to be sent back to prison. Mr. Juxon did not know that there was
+blood upon the man's hands--he had yet to learn that; he would not deign
+to mention the assault in the park when he handed him over to the
+authorities; the man should simply go back to Portland to suffer the term
+of his imprisonment, as soon as he should be well enough to be moved--if
+that time ever came. If he died, he should be buried decently in a
+nameless grave, "six feet by four, by two," as Thomas Reid would have
+said--if he died.
+
+Meanwhile, however, there was yet another consideration which disturbed
+the squire's meditations. Mrs. Goddard had a right to know that her
+husband was dying and, if she so pleased, she had a right to be at his
+bedside. But at the same time it would be necessary so to account for her
+presence as not to arouse Doctor Longstreet's suspicions, nor the
+comments of Holmes, the butler, and of his brigade in the servants' hall.
+It was no easy matter to do this unless Mrs. Goddard were accompanied by
+the vicar's wife, the excellent and maternally minded Mrs. Ambrose. To
+accomplish this it would be necessary to ask the latter lady to spend a
+great part of her time at the Hall in taking care of the wretched
+Goddard, who would again be the gainer. But Mrs. Ambrose was as yet
+ignorant of the fact that he had escaped from prison; she must be told
+then, and an effort must be made to elicit her sympathy. Perhaps she and
+the vicar would come and stop a few days, thought the squire. Mrs.
+Goddard might then come and go as she pleased. Her presence by her
+husband's bedside would then be accounted for on the ground of her
+charitable disposition.
+
+While Mr. Juxon was revolving these things in his mind he watched the
+doctor and John who were doing what was necessary for the sick man.
+Goddard moaned helplessly with every breath, in a loud, monotonous tone,
+very wearing to the nerves of those who heard it.
+
+"There is little to be done," said Doctor Longstreet at last. "He must be
+fed--alternately a little beef tea and then a little weak brandy and
+water. We must try and keep the system up. That is his only chance. I
+will prescribe something and send it back by the groom."
+
+"You are not going to leave us to-night?" exclaimed the squire in alarm.
+
+"Must. Very sorry. Bad case of diphtheria in town--probably die before
+morning, unless I get there in time--I would not have come here for any
+one else. I will certainly be here before ten--he will live till then, I
+fancy, and I don't believe there will be any change in his condition.
+Good-night, Mr. Juxon--beef tea and brandy every quarter of an hour.
+Good-night, Mr.--" he turned to John.
+
+"Short," said John. "Good-night, doctor."
+
+"Ah--I remember--used to be with Mr. Ambrose--yes. Delighted to meet you
+again, Mr. Short--good-night."
+
+The doctor vanished, before either the squire or John had time to follow
+him. His departure left an unpleasant sense of renewed responsibility in
+the squire's mind.
+
+"You had better go to bed, Mr. Short," he said kindly. "I will sit up
+with him."
+
+But John would not hear of any such arrangement; he insisted upon bearing
+his share of the watching and stoutly refused to leave the squire alone.
+There was a large dressing-room attached to the room where Goddard was
+lying; the squire and John finally agreed to watch turn and turn about,
+one remaining with Goddard, while the other rested upon the couch in the
+dressing-room aforesaid. The squire insisted upon taking his watch first,
+and John lay down. It was past midnight and he was very tired, but it
+seemed impossible to sleep with the sound of that loud, monotonous
+mumbling perpetually in his ears. It was a horrible night, and John Short
+never forgot it so long as he lived. Years afterwards he could not enter
+the room where Goddard had lain without fancying he heard that perpetual
+groaning still ringing in his ears. For many hours it continued unabated
+and unchanging, never dying away to silence nor developing to articulate
+words. From time to time John could hear the squire's step as he moved
+about, administering the nourishment prescribed. If he had had the
+slightest idea of Mr. Juxon's state of mind he would hardly have left him
+even to rest awhile in the next room.
+
+Fortunately the squire's nerves were solid. A firm constitution hardened
+by thirty years of seafaring and by the consistent and temperate
+regularity which was part of his character, had so toughened his natural
+strength as to put him almost beyond the reach of mortal ills; otherwise
+he must have broken down under the mental strain thus forced upon him. It
+is no light thing to do faithfully the utmost to save a man one has good
+reason to hate, and whose death would be an undoubted blessing to every
+one who has anything to do with him. Walter Goddard was to Charles Juxon
+at once an enemy, an obstacle and a rival; an enemy, for having attempted
+his life, an obstacle, because while he lived he prevented the squire
+from marrying Mrs. Goddard and a rival because she had once loved him and
+for the sake of that love was still willing to sacrifice much for him.
+And yet the very fact that she had loved him made it easier to be kind to
+him; it seemed to the squire that, after all, in taking care of Goddard
+he was in some measure serving her, too, seeing that she would have done
+the same thing herself could she have been present.
+
+Yet there was something very generous and large-hearted in the way
+Charles Juxon did his duty by the sick man. There are people who seem by
+nature designed to act heroic parts in life, whose actions habitually
+take an heroic form, and whose whole character is of another stamp from
+that of average humanity. Of such people much is expected, because they
+seem to offer much; no one is surprised to hear of their making great
+sacrifices, no one is astonished if they exhibit great personal courage
+in times of danger. Very often they are people of large vanity, whose
+chiefest vanity is not to seem vain; gifted with great powers and always
+seeking opportunities of using them, holding high ideas upon most
+subjects but rarely conceiving themselves incapable of attaining to any
+ideal they select for their admiration; brave in combat partly from real
+courage, partly, as I have often heard officers say of a dandy soldier in
+the ranks, because they are too proud to run away; but, on the whole,
+heroic by temperament and in virtue of a singular compound of pride,
+strength and virtue, often accomplishing really great things. They are
+almost always what are called striking people, for their pride and their
+strength generally attract attention by their magnitude, and something in
+their mere appearance distinguishes them from the average mass.
+
+But Charles Juxon did not in any way belong to this type, any more than
+the other persons who found themselves concerned in the events which
+culminated in Goddard's illness. He was a very simple man whose pride was
+wholly unconscious, who did not believe himself destined to do anything
+remarkable, who regarded his own personality as rather uninteresting and
+who, had he been asked about himself, would have been the first to
+disclaim any sentiments of the heroic kind. With very little imagination,
+he possessed great stability himself and great belief in the stability of
+things in general, a character of the traditional kind known as
+"northern," though it would be much more just to describe it as the
+"temperate" or "central" type of man. Wherever there is exaggeration in
+nature, there is exaggerated imagination in man. The solid and
+unimaginative part of the English character is undeniably derived from
+the Angles or from the Flemish; it is morally the best part, but it is by
+all odds the least interesting--it is found in the type of man belonging
+to the plains in a temperate zone, who differs in every respect from the
+real northman, his distant cousin and hereditary enemy. If Charles Juxon
+was remarkable for anything it was for his modesty and reticence, in a
+word, for his apparent determination not to be remarkable at all.
+
+And now, in the extremest anxiety and difficulty, his character served
+him well; for he unconsciously refused to allow to himself that his
+position was extraordinary or his responsibility greater than he was
+able to bear. He disliked intensely the idea of being put forward or
+thrust into a dramatic situation, and he consequently failed signally to
+fulfil the dramatic necessities. There was not even a struggle in his
+heart between the opposite possibilities of letting Goddard die, by
+merely relaxing his attention, and of redoubling his care and bringing
+about his recovery. He never once asked himself, after the chances of the
+patient surviving the fever were stated, whether he would not be
+justified in sending for some honest housewife from the village to take
+care of the tramp instead of looking to his wants himself. He simply did
+his best to save the man's life, without hesitation, without suspecting
+that he was doing anything extraordinary, doing, as he had always done,
+the best thing that came in his way according to the best of his ability.
+He could not wholly suppress the reflection that much good might ensue
+from Goddard's death, but the thought never for a moment interfered with
+his efforts to save the convict alive.
+
+But John lay in the next room, kept awake by the sick man's perpetual
+groaning and by the train of thought which ran through his brain. There
+were indeed more strange things than his philosophy could account for,
+but the strangest of all was that the squire should know who the tramp
+was; he must know it, John thought, since he knew all about him, his
+former love for Mrs. Goddard and his recent presence in the
+neighbourhood. The young man's curiosity was roused to its highest pitch,
+and he longed to know more. He at once guessed that there must have
+been much intimate confidence between Mr. Juxon and Mrs. Goddard; he
+suspected moreover that there must be some strange story connected with
+her, something which accounted for the peculiar stamp of a formerly
+luxurious life which still clung to her, and which should explain her
+residence in Billingsfield But John was very far from suspecting the real
+truth.
+
+His mind was restless and the inaction became intolerable to him. He rose
+at last and went again into the room where his friend was watching. Mr.
+Juxon sat by the bedside, the very picture of patience, one leg crossed
+over the other and his hands folded together upon his knee, his face
+paler than usual but perfectly calm, his head bent a little to one side
+and his smooth hair, which had been slightly ruffled in the encounter in
+the park, as smooth as ever. It was a very distinctive feature of him; it
+was part of the sleek and spotless neatness which Mrs. Ambrose so much
+admired.
+
+"It is my turn, now," said John. "Will you lie down for a couple of
+hours?"
+
+The squire rose. Being older and less excitable than John, he was
+beginning to feel the need of rest. People who have watched often by the
+sick know how terribly long are those hours of the night between three
+o'clock and dawn; long always, but seeming interminable when one is
+obliged to listen perpetually to a long-drawn, inarticulate moaning, a
+constant effort to speak which never results in words.
+
+"You are very good," said Mr. Juxon, quietly. "If you will give him the
+things from time to time, I will take a nap."
+
+With that he went and lay down upon the couch, and in three minutes was
+as sound asleep as though he were in bed. John sat by the sick man and
+looked at his flushed features and listened to the hard-drawn breath
+followed each time by that terrible, monotonous, mumbling groan.
+
+It might have been three-quarters of an hour since the squire had gone to
+sleep when John thought he saw a change in Goddard's face; it seemed to
+him that the flush subsided from his forehead, very slowly, leaving only
+a bright burning colour in his cheeks. His eyes seemed suddenly to grow
+clearer and a strange look of intelligence came into them; his whole
+appearance was as though illuminated by a flash of some light different
+from that of the candles which burned upon the table. John rose to his
+feet and came and looked at him. The groaning suddenly ceased and
+Goddard's eyelids, which had been motionless for hours, moved naturally.
+He appeared to be observing John's face attentively.
+
+"Where is the squire?" he asked quite naturally--so naturally that John
+was startled.
+
+"Asleep in the next room," replied the latter.
+
+"I did not kill him after all," said Goddard, turning himself a little as
+though to be more at his ease.
+
+"No," answered John. "He is not hurt at all. Can you tell me who you
+are?" For his life, he could not help asking the question. It seemed so
+easy to find out who the fellow was, now that he could speak
+intelligibly. But Goddard's face contracted suddenly, in a hideous smile.
+
+"Don't you wish you knew?" he said roughly. "But I know you, my boy, I
+know you--ha! ha! There's no getting away from you, my boy, is there?"
+
+"Who am I?" asked John in astonishment.
+
+"You are the hangman," said Goddard. "I know you very well. The hangman
+is always so well dressed. I say, old chap, turn us off quick, you
+know--no fumbling about the bolt. Look here--I like your face," he
+lowered his voice--"there are nearly sixty pounds in my right-hand
+trouser pocket--there are--Mary--ah--gave--M--a--"
+
+Again his eyes fixed themselves and the moaning began and continued. John
+was horror-struck and stood for a moment gazing at his face, over which
+the deep flush had spread once more, seeming to obliterate all appearance
+of intelligence. Then the young man put his hand beneath Goddard's head
+and gently replaced him in his former position, smoothing the pillows,
+and giving him a little brandy. He debated whether or not he should call
+the squire from his rest to tell him what had happened, but seeing that
+Goddard had now returned to his former state, he supposed such moments of
+clear speech were to be expected from time to time. He sat down again,
+and waited; then after a time he went to the window and looked anxiously
+for the dawn. It seemed an intolerably long night.
+
+But the day came at last and shed a ghastly grey tinge upon the
+sick-room, revealing as it were the outlines of all that was bad to look
+at, which the warm yellow candle-light had softened with a kindlier
+touch. John accidentally looked at himself in the mirror as he passed and
+was startled at his own pale face; but the convict, labouring in the
+ravings of his fever, seemed unconscious of the dawning day; he was not
+yet exhausted and his harsh voice never ceased its jarring gibber. John
+wondered whether he should ever spend such a night again, and shuddered
+at the recollection of each moment.
+
+The daylight waked the squire from his slumbers, however, and before the
+sun was up he came out of the dressing-room, looking almost as fresh as
+though nothing had happened to him in the night. Accustomed for years to
+rise at all hours, in all weathers, unimpressionable, calm and strong, he
+seemed superior to the course of events.
+
+"Well, Mr. Short, you allowed me a long nap. You must be quite worn out,
+I should think. How is the patient?"
+
+John told what had occurred.
+
+"Took you for the hangman, did he?" said the squire. "I wonder why--but
+you say he asked after me very sensibly?"
+
+"Quite so. It was when I asked him his own name, that he began raving
+again," answered John innocently.
+
+"What made you ask him that?" asked Mr. Juxon, who did not seem pleased.
+
+"Curiosity," was John's laconic answer.
+
+"Yes--but I fancy it frightened him. If I were you I would not do it
+again, if he has a lucid moment. I imagine it was fright that made him
+delirious in the first instance."
+
+"All right," quoth John. "I won't." But he made his own deductions. The
+squire evidently knew who he was, and did not want John to know, for some
+unexplained reason. The young man wondered what the reason could be; the
+mere name of the wretched man was not likely to convey any idea to his
+mind, for it was highly improbable that he had ever met him before his
+conviction. So John departed to his own room and refreshed himself with
+a tub, while the squire kept watch by daylight.
+
+It was not yet eight o'clock when Holmes brought a note from the vicar,
+which Mr. Juxon tore open and read with anxious interest.
+
+"MY DEAR MR. JUXON--I received your note late last night, but I judged it
+better to answer this morning, not wishing to excite suspicion by sending
+to you at so late an hour. The intelligence is indeed alarming and you
+will, I daresay, understand me, when I tell you that I found it necessary
+to communicate it to Mrs. Ambrose--"
+
+The squire could not refrain from smiling at the vicar's way of putting
+the point; but he read quickly on.
+
+"She however--and I confess my surprise and gratification--desires to
+accompany me to the Hall this morning, volunteering to take all possible
+care of the unfortunate man. As she has had much experience in visiting
+the sick, I fancy that she will render us very valuable assistance in
+saving his life. Pray let me know if the plan has your approval, as it
+may be dangerous to lose time.--Yours sincerely,
+
+"AUGUSTIN AMBROSE."
+
+Mr. Juxon was delighted to find that the difficult task of putting Mrs.
+Ambrose in possession of the facts of the case had been accomplished in
+the ordinary, the very ordinary, course of events by her own
+determination to find out what was to be known. In an hour she might be
+at Goddard's bedside, and Mrs. Goddard would be free to see her husband.
+He despatched a note at once and redoubled his attentions to the sick man
+whose condition, however, showed no signs of changing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+Mrs. Ambrose kept her word and arrived with the vicar before nine
+o'clock, protesting her determination to take care of poor Goddard, so
+long as he needed any care. Mr. Juxon warned her that John did not know
+who the man was, and entreated her to be careful of her speech when John
+was present. There was no reason why John should ever know anything more
+about it, he said; three could keep a secret, but no one knew whether
+four could be as discreet.
+
+The squire took Mrs. Ambrose and her husband to Goddard's room and
+telling her that Doctor Longstreet was expected in an hour, by which time
+he himself hoped to have returned, he left the two good people in charge
+of the sick man and went to see Mrs. Goddard. He sent John a message to
+the effect that all was well and that he should take some rest while the
+Ambroses relieved the watch, and having thus disposed his household he
+went out, bound upon one of the most disagreeable errands he had ever
+undertaken. But he set his teeth and walked boldly down the park.
+
+At the turn of the avenue he paused, at the spot where Goddard had
+attacked him. There was nothing to be seen at first, for the road was
+hard and dry and there was no trace of the scuffle; but as the squire
+looked about he spied his hat, lying in the ditch, and picked it up. It
+was heavy with the morning dew and the brim was broken and bent where
+Goddard's weapon had struck it. Hard by in a heap of driven oak leaves
+lay the weapon itself, which Mr. Juxon examined curiously. It was a
+heavy piece of hewn oak, evidently very old, and at one end a thick iron
+spike was driven through, the sharp point projecting upon one side and
+the wrought head upon the other. He turned it over in his hands and
+realised that he had narrowly escaped his death. Then he laid the hat and
+the club together and threw a handful of leaves over them, intending to
+take them to the Hall at a later hour, and he turned to go upon his way
+towards the cottage. But as he turned he saw two men coming towards him,
+and now not twenty yards away. His heart sank, for one of the two was
+Thomas Gall the village constable; the other was a quiet-looking
+individual with grey whiskers, plainly dressed and unassuming in
+appearance. Instinctively the squire knew that Gall's companion must be a
+detective. He was startled, and taken altogether unawares; but the men
+were close upon him and there was nothing to be done but to face them
+boldly.
+
+Gall made his usual half military salute as he came up, and the man in
+plain clothes raised his hat politely.
+
+"The gentleman from Lunnon, sir," said Gall by way of introduction,
+assuming an air of mysterious importance.
+
+"Yes?" said Mr. Juxon interrogatively. "Do you wish to speak to me?"
+
+"The gentleman's come on business, sir. In point of fact, sir, it's the
+case we was speakin' of lately."
+
+The squire knew very well what was the matter. Indeed, he had wondered
+that the detective had not arrived sooner. That did not make it any
+easier to receive him, however; on the contrary, if he had come on the
+previous day matters would have been much simpler.
+
+"Very well, Gall," answered Mr. Juxon. "I am much obliged to you for
+bringing Mr.--" he paused and looked at the man in plain clothes.
+
+"Booley, sir," said the detective.
+
+"Thank you--yes--for bringing Mr. Booley so far. You may go home, Gall.
+If we need your services we will send to your house."
+
+"It struck me, sir," remarked Gall with a bland smile, "as perhaps I
+might be of use--prefeshnal in fact, sir."
+
+"I will send for you," said the detective, shortly. The manners of the
+rural constabulary had long ceased to amuse him.
+
+Gall departed rather reluctantly, but to make up for being left out of
+the confidential interview which was to follow, he passed his thumb round
+his belt and thrust out his portly chest as he marched down the avenue.
+He subsequently spoke very roughly to a little boy who was driving an old
+sheep to the butcher's at the other end of the village.
+
+Mr. Juxon and the detective turned back and walked slowly towards the
+Hall.
+
+"Will you be good enough to state exactly what the business is," said the
+squire, well knowing that it was best to go straight to the point.
+
+"You are Mr. Juxon, I believe?" inquired Mr. Booley looking at his
+companion sharply. The squire nodded. "Very good, Mr. Juxon," continued
+the official. "I am after a man called Walter Goddard. Do you know
+anything about him? His wife, Mrs. Mary Goddard, lives in this village."
+
+"Walter Goddard is at this moment in my house," said the squire calmly.
+"I know all about him. He lay in wait for me at this very spot last night
+and attacked me. My dog pulled him down."
+
+The detective was somewhat surprised at the intelligence, and at the cool
+manner in which his companion conveyed it.
+
+"I am very glad to hear that. In that case I will take him at once."
+
+"I fear that is impossible," answered the squire. "The man is raving in
+the delirium of a brain fever. Meanwhile I shall be glad if you will stay
+in the house, until he is well enough to be moved. The doctor will be
+here at ten o'clock, and he will give you the details of the case better
+than I can. It would be quite impossible to take him away at present."
+
+"May I ask," inquired Mr. Booley severely, "why you did not inform the
+local police?"
+
+"Because it would have been useless. If he had escaped after attacking
+me, I should have done so. But since I caught him, and found him to be
+very ill--utterly unable to move, I proposed to take charge of him
+myself. Mrs. Goddard is a friend of mine, and of the vicar, who knows her
+story perfectly well. To publish the story in the village would be to do
+her a great injury. Mrs. Ambrose, the vicar's wife, who is also
+acquainted with the circumstances, is at this moment taking care of the
+sick man. I presume that my promise--I am a retired officer of the
+Navy--and the promise of Mr. Ambrose, the vicar, are sufficient
+guarantee--"
+
+"Oh, there is no question of guarantee," said Mr. Booley. "I assure you,
+Mr. Juxon, I have no doubt whatever that you have acted for the best.
+Can you tell me how long Goddard has been in the neighbourhood?"
+
+The squire told the detective what he knew, taking care not to implicate
+Mrs. Goddard, even adding with considerable boldness, for he was not
+positively certain of the statement, that neither she nor any one else
+had known where the man was hiding. Mr. Booley being sure that Goddard
+could not escape him, saw that he could claim the reward offered for the
+capture of the convict. He asked whether he might see him.
+
+"That is doubtful," said the squire. "When I left him just now he was
+quite unconscious, but he has lucid moments. To frighten him at such a
+time might kill him outright."
+
+"It is very easy for me to say that I am another medical man," remarked
+Mr. Booley. "Perhaps I might say it in any case, just to keep the
+servants quiet. I would like to see Mrs. Goddard, too."
+
+"That is another matter. She is very nervous. I am going to her house,
+now, and probably she will come back to the Hall with me. I might perhaps
+tell her that you are here, but I think it would be likely to shock her
+very much."
+
+"Well, well, we will see about it," answered Mr. Booley. They reached the
+house and the squire ushered the detective into the study, begging him to
+wait for his return.
+
+It was a new complication, though it had seemed possible enough. But the
+position was not pleasant. To feel that there was a detective in the
+house waiting to carry off Goddard, so soon as he should be well enough
+to be moved, was about as disagreeable as anything well could be. The
+longer the squire thought of it, the more impossible and at the same time
+unnecessary it seemed to be to inform Mrs. Goddard of Booley's arrival.
+He hastened down the park, feeling that no time must be lost in bringing
+her to her husband's bedside.
+
+He found her waiting for him, and was struck by the calmness she
+displayed. To tell the truth the violence of her emotions had been wholly
+expended on the previous night and the reaction had brought an intense
+melancholy quiet, which almost frightened Mr. Juxon. The habit of bearing
+great anxiety had not been wholly forgotten, for the lesson had been well
+learned during those terrible days of her husband's trial, and it was as
+though his sudden return had revived in her the custom of silent
+suffering. She hardly spoke, but listened quietly to Mr. Juxon's account
+of what had happened.
+
+"You are not hurt?" she asked, almost incredulously. Her eyes rested on
+her friend's face with a wistful look.
+
+"No, I assure you, not in the least," he said. "But your poor husband is
+very ill--very ill indeed."
+
+"Tell me," said she quietly, "is he dead? Are you trying to break it to
+me?"
+
+"No--no indeed. He is alive--he may even recover. But that is very
+uncertain. It might be best to wait until the doctor has been again. I
+will come back and fetch you--"
+
+"Oh, no, I will go at once. I would like to walk. It will do me good."
+
+So the two set out without further words upon their errand. Mr. Juxon had
+purposely omitted to speak of Mr. Booley's arrival. It would be easy, he
+thought, to prevent them from meeting in the great house.
+
+"Do you know," said Mary Goddard, as they walked together, "it is very
+hard to wish that he may recover--" she stopped short.
+
+"Very hard," answered the squire. "His life must be one of misery, if he
+lives."
+
+"Of course you would send him back?" she asked nervously.
+
+"My dear friend, there is no other course open to me. Your own safety
+requires it."
+
+"God knows--you would only be doing right," she said and was silent
+again. She knew, though the squire did not, what fate awaited Walter
+Goddard if he were given up to justice. She knew that he had taken life
+and must pay the penalty. Yet she was very calm; her senses were all
+dulled and yet her thoughts seemed to be consecutive and rational. She
+realised fully that the case of life and death was ill balanced; death
+had it which ever course events might take, and she could not save her
+husband. She thought of it calmly and calmly hoped that he might die now,
+in his bed, with her by his side. It was a better fate.
+
+"You say that the doctor thinks he must have been ill some time?" she
+asked after a time.
+
+"Yes--he was quite sure of it," answered the squire.
+
+"Perhaps that was why he spoke so roughly to me," she said in a low
+voice, as though speaking to herself.
+
+The tears came into the squire's eyes for sheer pity. Even in this utmost
+extremity the unhappy woman tried to account for her husband's rude and
+cruel speech. Mr. Juxon did not answer but looked away. They passed the
+spot where the scuffle had occurred on the previous night, but still he
+said nothing, fearing to disturb her by making his story seem too vividly
+real.
+
+"Where is he?" she asked as they reached the Hall, looking up at the
+windows.
+
+"On the other side."
+
+They went in and mounted the stairs towards the sick man's chamber. Mr.
+Juxon went in, leaving Mrs. Goddard outside for a moment. She could
+hear that hideous rattling monotonous moan, and she trembled from head to
+foot. Presently Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose came out, looking very grave and
+passed by her with a look of sympathy.
+
+"Will you come in?" said the squire in a low voice.
+
+Mrs. Goddard entered the room quickly. On seeing her husband, she uttered
+a low cry and laid her hand upon Mr. Juxon's arm. For some seconds she
+stood thus, quite motionless, gazing with intense and sympathetic
+interest at the sick man's face. Then she went to his side and laid her
+hand upon his burning forehead and looked into his eyes.
+
+"Walter! Walter!" she cried. "Don't you know me? Oh, why does he groan
+like that? Is he suffering?" she asked turning to Mr. Juxon.
+
+"No--I do not think he suffers much. He is quite unconscious. He is
+talking all the time but cannot pronounce the words."
+
+The squire stood at a distance looking on, noting the womanly
+thoughtfulness Mrs. Goddard displayed as she smoothed her husband's
+pillow and tried to settle his head more comfortably upon the bags of
+ice; and all the while she never took her eyes from Goddard's face, as
+though she were fascinated by her own sorrow and his suffering. She moved
+about the bed with that instinctive understanding of sickness which
+belongs to delicate women, but her glance never strayed to Mr. Juxon; she
+seemed forced by a mysterious magnetism to look at Walter and only at
+him.
+
+"Has he been long like this?" she asked.
+
+"Ever since last night. He called you once--he said, 'Mary Goddard, let
+me in!' And then he said something else--he said--I cannot remember what
+he said." Mr. Juxon checked himself, remembering the words John had
+heard, and of which he only half understood the import. But Mrs. Goddard
+hardly noticed his reply.
+
+"Will you leave me alone with him?" she said presently. "There is a bell
+in the room--I could ring if anything--happened," she added with mournful
+hesitation.
+
+"Certainly," answered the squire. "Only, I beg of you my dear friend--do
+not distress yourself needlessly--"
+
+"Needlessly!" she repeated with a sorrowful smile. "It is all I can do
+for him--to watch by his side. He will not live--he will not live, I am
+sure."
+
+The squire inwardly prayed that she might be right, and left her alone
+with the sick man. Who, he thought, was better fitted, who had a stronger
+right to be at his bedside at such a time? If only he might die! For if
+he lived, how much more terrible would the separation be, when Booley the
+detective came to conduct him back to his prison! In truth, it would be
+more terrible even than Mr. Juxon imagined.
+
+Meanwhile he must go and see to the rest of the household. He must speak
+to John Short; he must see Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose, and he must take
+precautions against any of them seeing Mr. Booley. This was, he thought,
+very important, and he resolved to speak with the latter first. John was
+probably asleep, worn out with the watching of the night.
+
+Mr. Booley sat in the squire's study where he had been left almost an
+hour earlier. He had installed himself in a comfortable corner by the
+fire and was reading the morning paper which he had found unopened upon
+the table. He seemed thoroughly at home as he sat there, a pair of
+glasses upon his nose and his feet stretched out towards the flame upon
+the hearth.
+
+"Thank you, I am doing very well, Mr. Juxon," he said as the squire
+entered.
+
+"Oh--I am very glad," answered Mr. Juxon politely. The information was
+wholly voluntary as he had not asked any question concerning the
+detective's comfort.
+
+"And how is the patient?" inquired Mr. Booley. "Do you think there is any
+chance of removing him this afternoon?"
+
+"This afternoon?" repeated the squire, in some astonishment. "The man is
+very ill. It may be weeks before he can be removed."
+
+"Oh!" ejaculated the other. "I was not aware of that. I cannot possibly
+stay so long. To-morrow, at the latest, he will have to go."
+
+"But, my dear sir," argued Mr. Juxon, "the thing is quite impossible. The
+doctor can testify to that--"
+
+"We are apt to be our own doctors in these cases," said Mr. Booley,
+calmly. "At all events he can be taken as far as the county gaol."
+
+"Upon my word, it would be murder to think of it--a man in a brain fever,
+in a delirium, to be taken over jolting roads--dear me! It is not to be
+thought of!"
+
+Mr. Booley smiled benignly, for the first time since the squire had made
+his acquaintance.
+
+"You seem to forget, Mr. Juxon, that my time is very valuable," he
+observed.
+
+"Yes--no doubt--but the man's life, Mr. Booley, is valuable too."
+
+"Hardly, I should say," returned the detective coolly. "But since you are
+so very pressing, I will ask to see the man at once. I can soon tell you
+whether he will die on the road or not. I have had considerable
+experience in that line."
+
+"You shall see him, as soon as the doctor comes," replied the squire,
+shocked at the man's indifference and hardness.
+
+"It certainly cannot hurt him to see me, if he is still unconscious or
+raving," objected Mr. Booley.
+
+"He might have a lucid moment just when you are there--the fright would
+very likely kill him."
+
+"That would decide the question of moving him," answered Booley, taking
+his glasses from his nose, laying down the paper and rising to his feet.
+"There is clearly some reason why you object to my seeing him now. I
+would not like to insist, Mr. Juxon, but you must please remember that it
+may be my duty to do so."
+
+The squire was beginning to be angry; even his calm temper was not proof
+against the annoyance caused by Mr. Booley's appearance at the Hall, but
+he wisely controlled himself and resorted to other means of persuasion.
+
+"There is a reason, Mr. Booley; indeed there are several very good
+reasons. One of them is that it might be fatal to frighten the man;
+another is that at this moment his wife is by his bedside. She has
+entirely made up her mind that when he is recovered he must return to
+prison, but at present it would be most unkind to let her know that you
+are in the house. The shock to her nerves would be terrible."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Booley, "if there is a lady in the case we must make some
+allowances, I presume. Only, put yourself in my place, Mr. Juxon, put
+yourself in my place."
+
+The squire doubted whether he would be willing to exchange his
+personality for that of Mr. Booley.
+
+"Well--what then?" he said. "I think I would try to be merciful."
+
+"Yes; but suppose that in being merciful, you just allowed that lady the
+time necessary to present her beloved husband with a convenient little
+pill, just to shorten his sufferings? And suppose that--"
+
+"Really, Mr. Booley, I think you make very unwarrantable suppositions,"
+said Mr. Juxon severely. "I cannot suppose any such thing."
+
+"Many women--ladies too--have done that to save a man from hanging,"
+returned Mr. Booley, fixing his grey eye on the squire.
+
+"Hanging?" repeated the latter in surprise. "But Goddard is not to be
+hanged."
+
+"Of course he is. What did you expect?" Mr. Booley looked surprised in
+his turn.
+
+"But--what for?" asked the squire very anxiously. "He has not killed
+anybody--"
+
+"Oh--then you don't know how he escaped?"
+
+"No--I have not the least idea--pray tell me."
+
+"I don't wonder you don't understand me, then," said Mr. Booley. "Well,
+it is a short tale but a lively one, as they say. Of course it stands to
+reason in the first place that he could not have got out of Portland. He
+was taken out for a purpose. You know that after his trial was over, all
+sorts of other things besides the forgery came out about him, proving
+that he was altogether a very bad lot. Now about three weeks ago there
+was a question of identifying a certain person--it was a very long story,
+with a bad murder case and all the rest of it--commonplace, you know the
+sort--never mind the story, it will all be in the papers before long when
+they have got it straight, which is more than I have, seeing that these
+affairs do get a little complicated occasionally, you know, as such
+things will." Mr. Booley paused. It was evident that his command of the
+English tongue was not equal to the strain of constructing a long
+sentence.
+
+"This person, whom he was to identify, was the person murdered?" inquired
+Mr. Juxon.
+
+"Exactly. It was not the person, but the person's body, so to say.
+Somebody who had been connected with the Goddard case was sure that if
+Goddard could be got out of prison he could do the identifying all
+straight. It did not matter about his being under sentence of hard
+labour--it was a private case, and the officer only wanted Goddard's
+opinion for his personal satisfaction. So he goes to the governor of
+Portland, and finds that Goddard had a very good character in that
+institution--he was a little bit of a gay deceiver, you see, and knew how
+to fetch the chaps in there and particularly the parson. So he had a good
+character. Very good. The governor consents to send him to town for this
+private job, under a strong force--that means three policemen--with irons
+on his hands. When they reached London they put him in a fourwheeler.
+Those things are done sometimes, and nobody is the wiser, because the
+governor does it on his own responsibility, for the good of the law, I
+suppose. I never approved of it. Do you follow me, Mr. Juxon?"
+
+"Perfectly," answered the squire. "He was driven from the station with
+three policemen in a hackney-coach, you say."
+
+"Exactly so. It was a queer place where the body was--away down in the
+Minories. Ever been there, Mr. Juxon? Queer place it is, and no mistake.
+I would like to show you some little bits of London. Well, as I was
+saying, the fourwheeler went along, with two policemen inside with
+Goddard and one on the box. Safe, you would say. Not a bit of it. Just
+the beggar's luck, too. It was dusk. That is always darker than when the
+lamps are well going. The fourwheeler ran into a dray-cart, round a
+corner where they were repairing the street. The horse went down with a
+smash, shafts, lamp, everything broken to smithereens, as they say. The
+policeman jumps off the box with the cabby to see what is the matter. One
+of the bobbies--the policemen I would say--it's a technical term, Mr.
+Juxon--gets out of the cab to see what's up, leaving Goddard in charge of
+the other. Then there is a terrific row; more carts come up, more
+fourwheelers--everybody swearing at once. Presently the policeman who
+had got out comes back and looks in to see if everything is straight. Not
+a bit of it again. Other door of the cab was open and--no Goddard. But
+the policeman was lying back in the corner and when they struck a light
+and looked, they found he was stone dead. Goddard had brained him with
+the irons on his wrists. No one ever saw him from that day to this. He
+must have known London well--they say he did, and he was a noted quick
+runner. Being nightfall and rather foggy as it generally is in those
+parts he got clear off. But he killed the man who had him in charge and
+if he lives he will have to swing for it. May be Mrs. Goddard does not
+know that---may be she does. That is the reason I don't want her to be
+left alone with him. No doubt she is very good and all that, but she
+might just take it into her head to save the government twenty feet of
+rope."
+
+"I am very much surprised, and very much shocked," said the squire
+gravely. "I had no idea of this. But I will answer for Mrs. Goddard.
+Why was all this never In the papers--or was there an account of it, Mr.
+Booley?"
+
+"Oh no--it was never mentioned. We felt sure that we should catch him and
+until we did we--I mean the profession--thought it just as well to say
+nothing. The governor remembered to have read a letter from Goddard's
+wife, just telling him where she was living, about two years ago. Being
+harmless, he passed it and never copied the address; then he could not
+remember it. At last they found it in his cell, hidden away somehow. The
+beggar had kept it."
+
+"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Juxon. In the silence which followed, the
+sound of wheels was heard outside. Doctor Longstreet had arrived.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+While Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were together in the library downstairs, while
+John Short was waking from the short sleep he had enjoyed, and while the
+squire was listening in the study to Mr. Booley's graphic account of the
+convict's escape, Mrs. Goddard was alone with her husband, watching every
+movement and listening intently to every moaning breath he drew.
+
+In the desperate anxiety for his fate, she forgot herself and seemed no
+longer to feel fatigue or exhaustion from all she herself had suffered.
+She stood long by his bedside, hoping that he might recognise her and yet
+fearing the moment when he should recover his senses. Then she noticed
+that the morning sun was pouring in through the window and she drew a
+curtain across, to shade his eyes from the glare. Whether the sudden
+changing of the light affected Goddard, as it does sometimes affect
+persons in the delirium of a brain fever, or whether it was only a
+natural turn in his condition, she never knew. His expression changed and
+acquired that same look of strange intelligence which John Short had
+noticed in the night; the flush sank from his forehead and gave place to
+a luminous, transparent colour, his eyelids once more moved naturally,
+and he looked at his wife as she stood beside him, and recognised her. He
+was weaker now than when he had spoken with John Short six hours earlier,
+but he was more fully in possession of his faculties for a
+brief moment. Mary Goddard trembled and felt her hands turn cold with
+excitement.
+
+"Walter, do you know me now?" she asked very softly.
+
+"Yes," he said faintly, and closed his eyes. She laid her hand upon his
+forehead; the coldness of it seemed pleasant to him, for a slight smile
+flickered over his face.
+
+"You are better, I think," she said again, gazing intently at him.
+
+"Mary--it is Mary?" he murmured, slowly opening his eyes and looking up
+to her. "Yes--I know you--I have been dreaming a long time. I'm so
+tired--"
+
+"You must not talk," said she. "It will tire you more." Then she gave him
+some drink. "Try and sleep," she said in a soothing tone.
+
+"I cannot--oh, Mary, I am very ill."
+
+"But you will get well again--"
+
+Goddard started suddenly, and laid his hand upon her arm with more force
+than she suspected he possessed.
+
+"Where am I?" he asked, staring about the room. "Is this your house,
+Mary? What became of Juxon?"
+
+"He is not hurt. He brought you home in his arms, Walter, to his own
+house, and is taking care of you."
+
+"Good heavens! He will give me up. No, no, don't hold me--I must be
+off"
+
+He made a sudden effort to rise, but he was very weak. He fell back
+exhausted upon his pillow; his fingers gripped the sheet convulsively,
+and his face grew paler.
+
+"Caught--like a rat!" he muttered. Mary Goddard sighed.
+
+Was she to give him hope of escape? Or should she try to calm him now,
+and when he was better, break the truth to him? Was she to make him
+believe that he was safe for the present, and hold out a prospect of
+escape when he should be better, or should she tell him now, once for
+all, while he was in his senses, that he was lost? It was a terrible
+position. Love she had none left for him, but there was infinite pity
+still in her heart and there would be while he breathed. She hesitated
+one moment only, and it may be that she decided for the wrong; but it was
+her pity that moved her, and not any remnant of love.
+
+"Hush, Walter," she said. "You may yet escape, when you are strong
+enough. You are quite safe here, for the present. Mr. Juxon would not
+think of giving you up now. By and by--the window is not high, Walter,
+and I shall often be alone with you. I will manage it."
+
+"Is that true? Are you cheating me?" cried the wretched man in broken
+tones. "No--you are speaking the truth--I know it--God bless you, Mary!"
+Again he closed his eyes and drew one or two long deep breaths.
+
+Strange to say, the blessing the miserable convict called down upon her
+was sweet to Mary Goddard, sweeter than anything she remembered for a
+long time. She had perhaps done wrong in giving him hopes of escaping,
+but at least he was grateful to her. It was more than she expected, for
+she remembered her last meeting with him, and the horrible ingratitude
+he had then shown her. It seemed to her that his heart had been softened
+a little; anything was better than that rough indifference he had
+affected before. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"Not that it makes much difference now, Mary," he said. "I don't think
+there is much left of me."
+
+"Do not say that, Walter," she answered gently. "Rest now. The more you
+rest the sooner you will be well again. Try and sleep."
+
+"Sleep--no--I cannot sleep. I have murdered sleep--like Macbeth, Mary,
+like Macbeth--Do you remember Macbeth?"
+
+"Hush," said Mary Goddard, endeavouring to calm him, though she turned
+pale at his strange quotation. "Hush--"
+
+"That is to say," said the sick man, heedless of her exhortation and
+soothing touch, "that is to say, I did not. He was very wide awake, and
+if I had not been quick, I should never have got off. Ugh! How damp that
+cellar was, that first night. That is where I got my fever. It is fever,
+I suppose?" he asked, unable to keep his mind for long in one groove.
+"What does the doctor say? Has he been here?"
+
+"Yes. He said you would soon be well; but he said you must be kept very
+quiet. So you must not talk, or I will go away."
+
+"Oh Mary, don't go--don't go! It's like--ha! ha! it's quite like old
+times, Mary!" He laughed harshly, a hideous, half-delirious laugh.
+
+Mary Goddard shuddered but made a great effort to control herself.
+
+"Yes," she said gently, "it is like old times. Try and think that it is
+the old house at Putney, Walter. Do you hear the sparrows chirping, just
+as they used to do? The curtains are the same colour, too. You used to
+sleep so quietly at the old house. Try and sleep now. Then you will
+soon get well. Now, I will sit beside you, but I will not talk any
+more--there--are you quite comfortable? A little higher? Yes--so. Go to
+sleep."
+
+Her quiet voice soothed him, and her gentle hands made his rest more
+easy. She sat down beside him, thinking from his silence that he would
+really go to sleep; hoping and yet not hoping, revolving in her mind the
+chances of his escape, so soon as he should be strong enough to attempt
+it, shuddering at the thought of what his fate must be if he again fell
+into the hands of the police. She did not know that a detective was at
+that moment in the house, determined to carry her husband away so soon as
+the doctor pronounced it possible. Nothing indeed, not even that
+knowledge could have added much to the burden of her sorrows as she sat
+there, a small and graceful figure with a sad pathetic face, leaning
+forward as she sat and gazing drearily at the carpet, where the sunlight
+crept in beneath the curtains from the bright world without. It seemed to
+her that the turning point in her existence had come, and that this day
+must decide all; yet she could not see how it was to be decided, think of
+it as she might. One thing stood prominent in her thoughts, and she
+delighted to think of it--the generosity of Charles Juxon. From first to
+last, from the day when she had frankly told him her story and he had
+accepted it and refused to let it bring any difference to his friendship
+for her, down to this present time, when after being basely attacked by
+her own husband, he had nobly brought the wretch home and was caring
+for him as for one of his own blood--through all and in spite of all, the
+squire had shown the same unassuming but unfailing generosity. She asked
+herself, as she sat beside the sick man, whether there were many like
+Charles Juxon in the world. There was the vicar, but the case was very
+different. He too had been kind and generous from the first; but he had
+not asked her to marry him--she blushed at the thought--he had not loved
+her. If Charles Juxon loved her, his generosity to Goddard was all the
+greater.
+
+She could not tell whether she loved him, because her ideas were what the
+world calls simple, and what, in heaven, would be called good. Her
+husband was alive; none the less so because he had been taken away and
+separated from her by the law--he was alive, and now was brought face to
+face with her again. While he was living, she did not suppose it possible
+to love another, for she was very simple. She said to herself truly that
+she had a very high esteem for the squire and that he was the best friend
+she had in the world; that to lose him would be the most terrible of
+imaginable losses; that she was deeply indebted to him, and she even half
+unconsciously allowed that if she were free she might marry him. There
+was no harm in that, she knew very well. She owed her own husband no
+longer either respect or affection, even while she still felt pity for
+him. Her esteem at least, she might give to another; nay, she owed it,
+and if she had refused Charles Juxon her friendship, she would have
+called herself the most ungrateful of women. If ever man deserved
+respect, esteem and friendship, it was the squire.
+
+Even in the present anxiety she thought of him, for his conduct seemed
+the only bright spot in the gloom of her thoughts; and she sincerely
+rejoiced that he had escaped unhurt. Had any harm come to him, she would
+have been, if it were possible, more miserable than she now was. But he
+was safe and sound, and doing his best to help her--doing more than she
+knew, in fact, at that very moment. There was at least something to be
+thankful for.
+
+Goddard stirred again, and opened his eyes.
+
+"Mary," he said faintly, "they won't catch me after all."
+
+"No, Walter," said she, humouring him. "Sleep quietly, for no one will
+disturb you."
+
+"I am going where nobody can catch me. I am dying--"
+
+"Oh, Walter!" cried Mary Goddard, "you must not speak like that. You will
+be better soon. The doctor is expected every moment."
+
+"He had better make haste," said the sick man with something of the
+roughness he had shown at their first meetings. "It is no use, Mary. I
+have been thinking about it. I have been mad for--for very long, I am
+sure. I want to die, Mary. Nobody can catch me if I die--I shall be safe
+then. You will be safe too--that is a great thing."
+
+His voice had a strange and meditative tone in it, which frightened his
+wife, as she stood close beside him. She could not speak, for her
+excitement and fear had the mastery of her tongue.
+
+"I have been thinking about it--I am not good for much, now--Mary--I
+never was. It will do some good if I die--just because I shall be out of
+the way. It will be the only good thing I ever did for you."
+
+"Oh Walter," cried his wife in genuine distress, "don't--don't!
+Think--you must not die so--think of--of the other world, Walter--you
+must not die so!"
+
+Goddard smiled faintly--scornfully, his wife thought.
+
+"I daresay I shall not die till to-morrow, or next day--but I will not
+live," he said with sudden energy. "Do you understand me, I will not
+live! Bah!" he cried, falling back upon his pillow, "the grapes are
+sour--I can't live if I would. Oh yes, I know all about that--my sins.
+Well, I am sorry for them. I am sorry, Mary. But it is very little
+good--people always laugh at--deathbed repentance--"
+
+He stopped and his thoughts seemed wandering. Mary Goddard gave him
+something to drink and tried to calm him. But he moved restlessly, though
+feebly.
+
+"Softly, softly," he murmured again. "He is coming--close to me. Get
+ready--now--no not yet, yes--now. Ugh!" yelled Goddard, suddenly
+springing up, his eyes starting from his head. "Ugh! the dog--oh!"
+
+"Hush, Walter," cried his wife, pushing him back. "Hush--no one will hurt
+you."
+
+"What--is that you, Mary?" asked the sick man, trembling violently. Then
+he laughed harshly. "I was off again. Pshaw! I did not really mean to
+hurt him--he need not have set that beast at me. He did not catch me
+though--Mary, I am going to die--will you pray for me? You are a good
+woman--somebody will hear your prayers, I daresay. Do, Mary--I shall feel
+better somehow, though I daresay it is very foolish of me."
+
+"No, Walter--not foolish, not foolish. Would you like me to call Mr.
+Ambrose? he is a clergyman--he is in the house."
+
+"No, no. You Mary, you--nobody will hear anybody else's prayers--for
+me--for poor me--"
+
+"Try and pray with me, Walter," said Mary Goddard, very quietly. She
+seemed to have an unnatural strength given to her in that hour of
+distress and horror. She knelt down by the bedside and took his wounded
+hand in hers, tenderly, and she prayed aloud in such words as she could
+find.
+
+Below, in the study, the detective had just finished telling his tale to
+the squire, and the wheels of Doctor Longstreet's dog-cart ground upon
+the gravel outside. The two men looked at each other for a moment, and
+Mr. Juxon spoke first.
+
+"That is the doctor," said he. "I will ask you to have patience for five
+minutes, Mr. Booley. He will give you his opinion. I am still very much
+shocked at what you have told me--I had no idea what had happened."
+
+"No--I suppose not," answered Mr. Booley calmly. "If you will ask the
+medical man to step in here for one moment, I will explain matters to
+him. I don't think he will differ much from me."
+
+"Very well," returned the squire, leaving the room. He went to meet
+Doctor Longstreet, intending to warn him of the presence of Mr. Booley,
+and meaning to entreat his support for the purpose of keeping Goddard in
+the house until he should be recovered. He passed through the library and
+exchanged a few words with Mr. Ambrose, explaining that the doctor had
+come. Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose were sitting on opposite sides of the
+fireplace in huge chairs, with a mournful air of resigned expectation
+upon their worthy faces. The detective remained alone in the study.
+
+Meanwhile John Short had refreshed himself from his fatigues, and came
+down stairs in search of some breakfast. He had recovered from his
+excitement and was probably the only one who thought of eating, as he was
+also the one least closely concerned in what was occurring. Instead of
+going to the library he went to the dining-room, and, seeing no one
+about, entered the study from the door which on that side connected the
+two rooms. To his surprise he saw Mr. Booley standing before the
+fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his feet wide apart. He had not
+the least idea who he was.
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed, staring hard at him.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Booley, who took him for the physician whom he expected.
+"I am George Booley of the detective service. I was expecting you, sir.
+There is very little to be said. My time, as I told Mr. Juxon, is very
+valuable. I must have Goddard out of the house by to-morrow afternoon at
+the latest. Now, doctor, it is of no use your talking to me about fever
+and all that--"
+
+John had stood with his mouth open, staring in blank astonishment at the
+detective, unable to find words in which to question the man. At last he
+got his breath.
+
+"What in the world are you talking about?" he asked slowly. "Are you a
+raving lunatic--or what are you?"
+
+"Come, come, doctor," said Mr. Booley in persuasive accents, "none of
+that with me, you know. If the man must be moved--why he must, that is
+all, and you must make it possible, somehow."
+
+"You are crazy!" exclaimed John. "I am not the doctor, to begin with--"
+
+"Not the doctor!" cried Mr. Booley. "Then who are you? I beg your pardon,
+I am sure--"
+
+"I am John Short," said John, quickly, heedless of the fact that his name
+conveyed no idea whatever to the mind of the detective. He cared little,
+for he began to comprehend the situation, and he fled precipitately into
+the library, leaving Mr. Booley alone to wait for the coming of the real
+physician. But in the library a fresh surprise awaited him; there he
+found Mr. and Mrs. Ambrose seated in solemn silence opposite to each
+other. He had not suspected their presence in the house, but he was
+relieved to see them--anything was a relief at that moment.
+
+"Mr. Ambrose," he said hurriedly, "there is a detective in the next room
+who means to carry off that poor man at once--as he is--sick--dying
+perhaps--it must be prevented!"
+
+"A detective!" cried the vicar and his wife in the same breath.
+
+"My dear John," said the vicar immediately afterwards, "where is he? I
+will reason with him."
+
+"Augustin," said Mrs. Ambrose with extreme severity, "it is barbarous. I
+will go upstairs. If he enters the room it shall be across my body."
+
+"Do, my dear," replied the vicar in great excitement, and not precisely
+appreciating the proposition to which he gave so willing an assent.
+
+"Of course I will," said his wife, who had already reached the door. From
+which it appears that Mrs. Ambrose was a brave woman. She passed rapidly
+up the staircase to Goddard's room, but she paused as she laid her hand
+upon the latch. From within she could hear Mary Goddard's voice, praying
+aloud, as she had never heard any one pray before. She paused and
+listened, hesitating to interrupt the unhappy lady in such a moment.
+Moreover, though her goodwill was boundless, she had not any precise
+idea how to manage the defence. But as she stood there, the thought that
+the detective might at any moment follow her was predominant. The voice
+within the room paused for an instant and Mrs. Ambrose entered, raising
+one finger to her lips as though expecting that Mary Goddard would speak
+to her. But Mary was not looking, and at first did not notice the
+intrusion. She knelt by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet, her
+hands clasped and clasping the sick man's wounded hand.
+
+Goddard's face was pale but not deathlike, and his breathing seemed
+regular and gentle; but his eyes were almost closed and he seemed not
+aware that any one had entered. Mrs. Ambrose was struck by his appearance
+which was greatly changed since she had left him half an hour earlier,
+his face purple and his harsh moaning continuing unceasingly. She said
+to herself that he was probably better. There was all the more reason for
+warning Mary Goddard of the new danger that awaited him. She shut the
+door and locked it and withdrew the key. At the sound Mary looked
+up--then rose to her feet with a sad look of reproach, as though not
+wishing to be disturbed. But Mrs. Ambrose came quickly to her side, and
+glancing once at Goddard, to see whether he was unconscious, she led her
+away from the bed.
+
+"My dear," she said very kindly, but in a voice trembling with
+excitement, "I had to come. There are detectives in the house, clamouring
+to take him away--but I will protect you--they shall not do it."
+
+Mary Goddard started and her eyes stared wildly at her friend. But
+presently the look of resigned sadness returned, and a faint and mournful
+smile flickered on her lips.
+
+"I think it is all over," she said. "He is still alive--but he will not
+live till they come."
+
+Then she bit her lip tightly, and all the features of her face trembled a
+little. The tears would rise spasmodically, though they were only tears
+of pity, not of love. Mrs. Ambrose, the severe, the stern, the eternally
+vigilant Mrs. Ambrose, sat down by the window; she put her arm about Mary
+Goddard's waist and took her upon her knee as though she had been a
+little child and laid her head upon her breast, comforting her as best
+she could. And their tears flowed down and mingled together, for many
+minutes.
+
+But once more the sick man's voice was heard; both women started to their
+feet and went to his side.
+
+"Mary Goddard! Mary Goddard! Let me in!" he moaned faintly.
+
+"It is I--here I am, Walter, dear Walter--I am with you," answered Mary,
+raising him and putting her arm about his neck, while Mrs. Ambrose
+arranged the pillows behind him. He opened his eyes as though with a
+great effort.
+
+Some one knocked softly at the door. Mrs. Ambrose left the bedside
+quickly and put the key in the lock.
+
+"Who is there?" she asked, before she opened.
+
+"I--John. Please let me in."
+
+Mrs. Ambrose opened and John entered, very pale; she locked the door
+again after him. He stood still looking with astonishment at Mrs. Goddard
+who still propped the sick man in her arms and hardly noticed him.
+
+"Why--?" he ejaculated and then checked himself, or rather was checked by
+Mrs. Ambrose's look. Then he spoke to her in a whisper.
+
+"There is an awful row going on between the doctor and the detective," he
+said hurriedly under his breath. "They are coming upstairs and the vicar
+and Mr. Juxon are trying to part them--I don't know what they are not
+saying to each other--"
+
+"Hush," replied Mrs. Ambrose, "do not disturb him--he was conscious again
+just now. This may be the crisis--he may recover. The door is locked--try
+and prevent anybody--that is, the detective, from coming in. They will
+not dare to break open the door in Mr. Juxon's house."
+
+"But why is Mrs. Goddard here?" asked John unable to control his
+curiosity any longer. He did not mean that she should hear, but as she
+laid Goddard's head gently upon the pillows, trying to soothe him to rest
+again, if rest it were, she looked up and met John's eyes.
+
+"Because he is my husband," said she very quietly.
+
+John laid his hand on Mrs. Ambrose's arm in utmost bewilderment and
+looked at her as though to ask if it were true. She nodded gravely.
+Before John had time to recover himself from the shock of the news,
+footsteps were heard outside, and the loud altercation of angry voices.
+John Short leaned his shoulder against the door and put his foot against
+it below, expecting an attack.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+When Mr. Ambrose undertook to reason with the detective he went directly
+towards the study where John said the man was waiting. But Mr. Booley was
+beginning to suspect that the doctor was not coming to speak with him as
+the squire had promised, and after hesitating for a few moments followed
+John into the library, determining to manage matters himself. As he
+opened the door he met Mr. Ambrose coming towards him, and at the same
+moment Mr. Juxon and Doctor Longstreet entered from the opposite end of
+the long room. The cheerful and active physician was talking in a rather
+excited tone.
+
+"My dear sir," said he, "I cannot pretend to say that the man will or
+will not recover. I must see him again. Things look quite differently by
+daylight, and six or seven hours may make all the change in the world. To
+say that he can be moved to-day or even to-morrow, is absurd. I will
+stake my reputation as a practitioner--Hulloa!"
+
+The exclamation was elicited by Mr. Booley, who had pushed past Mr.
+Ambrose and stood confronting the doctor with a look which was intended
+to express a combination of sarcasm, superior cunning and authority.
+
+"This is Mr. Booley," explained the squire. "Doctor Longstreet will tell
+you what he has been telling me," he added turning to the detective.
+
+"I must see this man instantly," said the latter somewhat roughly. "I
+believe I am being trifled with, and I will not submit to it. No, sir, I
+will not be trifled with, I assure you! I must see this man at once. It
+is absolutely necessary to identify him."
+
+"And I say," said Doctor Longstreet with equal firmness, "that I must see
+him first, in order to judge whether you can see him or not--"
+
+"It is for me to judge of that," returned Mr. Booley, with more haste
+than logic.
+
+"After you have seen him, you cannot judge whether you ought to see him
+or not," retorted Doctor Longstreet growing red in the face. The
+detective attempted to push past him. At this moment John Short hastily
+left the room and fled upstairs to warn Mrs. Ambrose of what was
+happening.
+
+"Really," said Mr. Ambrose, making a vain attempt to stop the course of
+events, "this is very unwarrantable."
+
+"Unwarrantable!" cried Mr. Booley. "Unwarrantable, indeed! I have the
+warrant in my pocket. Mr. Juxon, sir, I fear I must insist."
+
+"Permit me," said Mr. Juxon, planting his square and sturdy form between
+the door and the detective. "You may certainly insist, but you must begin
+by listening to reason."
+
+Charles Juxon had been accustomed to command others for the greater part
+of his life, and though he was generally the most unobtrusive and gentle
+of men, when he raised his voice in a tone of authority his words carried
+weight. His blue eyes stared hard at Mr. Booley, and there was something
+imposing in his square head--even in the unruffled smoothness of his
+brown hair. Mr. Booley paused and discontentedly thrust his hands into
+his pockets.
+
+"Well?" he said.
+
+"Simply this," answered the squire. "You may accompany us to the door of
+the room; you may wait with me, while Doctor Longstreet goes in to look
+at the patient. If the man is unconscious you may go in and see him. If
+he chances to be in a lucid interval, you must wait until he is
+unconscious again. It will not be long. That is perfectly reasonable."
+
+"Perfectly," echoed Mr. Ambrose, biting his long upper lip and glaring as
+fiercely at Mr. Booley as though he had said it all himself.
+
+"Absolutely reasonable," added Doctor Longstreet.
+
+"Well, we will try it," said the detective moodily. "But I warn you I
+will not be trifled with."
+
+"Nobody is trifling with you," answered the squire coldly. "This way if
+you please." And he forthwith led the way upstairs, followed by Mr.
+Booley, the physician and the vicar.
+
+Before they reached the door, however, the discussion broke out again.
+Mr. Booley had been held in check for a few moments by Mr. Juxon's
+determined manner, but as he followed the squire he began to regret that
+he had yielded so far and he made a fresh assertion of his rights.
+
+"I cannot see why you want to keep me outside," he said. "What difference
+can it make, I should like to know?"
+
+"You will have to take my word for it that it does make a difference,"
+said the doctor, testily. "If you frighten the man, he will die. Now
+then, here we are."
+
+"I don't like your tone, sir," said Booley angrily, again trying to push
+past the physician. "I think I must insist, after all. I will go in with
+you--I tell you I will, sir--don't stop me."
+
+Doctor Longstreet, who was fifteen or twenty years older than the
+detective but still strong and active, gripped his arm quickly, and held
+him back.
+
+"If you go into that room without my permission, and if the man dies of
+fright, I will have an action brought against you for manslaughter," he
+said in a loud voice.
+
+"And I will support it," said the squire. "I am justice of the peace
+here, and what is more, I am in my own house. Do not think your position
+will protect you."
+
+Again Mr. Juxon's authoritative tone checked the detective, who drew
+back, making some angry retort which no one heard. The squire tried the
+door and finding it locked, knocked softly, not realising that every word
+of the altercation had been heard within.
+
+"Who is there?" asked John, who though he had heard all that had been
+said was uncertain of the issue.
+
+"Let in Doctor Longstreet," said the squire's voice.
+
+But meanwhile Mrs. Ambrose and Mary Goddard were standing on each side of
+the sick man. He must have heard the noises outside, and they conveyed
+some impression to his brain.
+
+"Mary, Mary!" he groaned indistinctly. "Save me--they are coming--I
+cannot get away--softly, he is coming--now--I shall just catch him as he
+goes by--Ugh! that dog--oh! oh!--"
+
+With a wild shriek, the wretched man sprang up, upon his knees, his eyes
+starting out, his face transfigured with horror. For one instant he
+remained thus, half-supported by the two terror-struck women; then with a
+groan his head drooped forward upon his breast and he fell back heavily
+upon the pillows, breathing still but quite unconscious.
+
+Doctor Longstreet entered at that moment and ran to his side. But when he
+saw him he paused. Even Mrs. Ambrose was white with horror, and Mary
+Goddard stood motionless, staring down at her husband, her hands gripping
+the disordered coverlet convulsively.
+
+Mr. Juxon had entered, too, while Mr. Ambrose remained outside with the
+detective, who had been frightened into submission by the physician's
+last threat. The squire saw what was happening and paced the room in the
+greatest agitation, wringing his hands together and biting his lips. John
+had closed the door and came to the foot of the bed and looked at
+Goddard's face. After a pause, Doctor Longstreet spoke.
+
+"We might possibly restore him to consciousness for a moment--"
+
+"Don't!" cried Mary Goddard, starting as though some one had struck her.
+"That is--" she added quickly, in broken tones, "unless he can live!"
+
+"No," answered the physician, gravely, but looking hard at the unhappy
+woman. "He is dying."
+
+Goddard's staring eyes were glazed and white. Twice and three times he
+gasped for breath, and then lay quite still. It was all over. Mary gazed
+at his dead face for one instant, then a faint smile parted her lips: she
+raised one hand to her forehead as though dazed.
+
+"He is safe now," she murmured very faintly. Her limbs relaxed suddenly,
+and she fell straight backwards. Charles Juxon, who was watching her,
+sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Then he bore her from the
+room, swiftly, while John Short who was as white and speechless as the
+rest opened the door.
+
+"You may go in now," said Juxon as he passed Booley and Mr. Ambrose in
+the passage, with his burden in his arms. A few steps farther on he met
+Holmes the butler, who carried a telegram on a salver.
+
+"For Mr. Short, sir," said the impassive servant, not appearing to notice
+anything strange in the fact that his master was carrying the inanimate
+body of Mary Goddard.
+
+"He is in there--go in," said Juxon hurriedly as he went on his way.
+
+The detective and the vicar had already entered the room where the dead
+convict was lying. All stood around the bed, gazing at his pale face as
+he lay.
+
+"A telegram for Mr. Short," said Holmes from the door. John started and
+took the despatch from the butler's hands. He hastily tore it open,
+glanced at the contents and thrust it into his pocket. Every one looked
+round.
+
+"What is it, John?" whispered the vicar, who was nearest to him.
+
+"Oh--nothing. I am first in the Tripos, that is all," answered John very
+simply, as though it were not a matter of the least consequence.
+
+Through all those months of untiring labour, through privation and
+anxiety, through days of weariness and nights of study, he had looked
+forward to the triumph, often doubting but never despairing. But he had
+little guessed that the news of victory would reach him at such a moment.
+It was nothing, he said; and indeed as he stood with the group of pale
+and awe-struck spectators by the dead man's bed, he felt that the
+greatest thing which had ever happened to him was as nothing compared
+with the tragedy of which he had witnessed the last act.
+
+It was all over. There was nothing more to be said; the convict had
+escaped the law in the end, at the very moment when the hand of the law
+was upon him. Thomas Reid, the conservative sexton, buried him "four by
+six by two," grumbling at the parish depth as of yore, and a simple stone
+cross marked his nameless grave. There it stands to this day in the
+churchyard of Billingsfield, Essex, in the shadow of the ancient abbey.
+
+All these things happened a long time ago, according to Billingsfield
+reckoning, but the story of the tramp who attacked Squire Juxon and was
+pulled down by the bloodhound is still told by the villagers, and Mr.
+Gall, being once in good cheer, vaguely hinted that he knew who the tramp
+was; but from the singular reticence he has always shown in the matter,
+and from the prosperity which has attended his constabulary career, it
+may well be believed that he has a life interest in keeping his counsel.
+Indeed as it is nearly ten years since Mr. Reid buried the poor tramp, it
+is possible that Mr. Gall's memory may be already failing in regard to
+events which occurred at so remote a date.
+
+It was but an incident, though it was perhaps the only incident of any
+interest which ever occurred in Billingsfield; but until it reached its
+termination it agitated the lives of the quiet people at the vicarage,
+at the cottage and at the Hall as violently as human nature can be moved.
+It was long, too, before those who had witnessed the scene of Goddard's
+death could shake off the impression of those awful last moments. Yet
+time does all things wonderful and in the course of not many months there
+remained of Goddard's memory only a great sense of relief that he was no
+longer alive. Mary Goddard, indeed, was very ill for a long time; and but
+for Mrs. Ambrose's tender care of her, might have followed her husband
+within a few weeks of his death. But the good lady never left her, until
+she was herself again--absolutely herself, saving that as time passed and
+her deep wounds healed her sorrows were forgotten, and she seemed to
+bloom out into a second youth.
+
+So it came to pass that within two years Charles Juxon once more asked
+her to be his wife. She hesitated long--fully half an hour, the squire
+thought; but in the end she put out her small hand and laid it in his,
+and thanked God that a man so generous and true, and whom she so honestly
+loved, was to be her husband as well as her friend and protector. Charles
+James Juxon smoothed his hair with his other hand, and his blue eyes were
+a little moistened.
+
+"God bless you, Mary," he said; and that was all.
+
+Then the Reverend Augustin Ambrose married them in the church of Saint
+Mary's, between Christmas and New Year's Day; and the wedding-party
+consisted of Mrs. Ambrose and Eleanor Goddard and John Short, Fellow of
+Trinity College, Cambridge. And again years passed by, and Nellie grew in
+beauty as John grew in reputation; and Nellie had both brothers and
+sisters, as she had longed to have, and to her, their father was as her
+own; so that there was much harmony and peace and goodwill towards men
+in Billingsfield Hall. John came often and stayed long, and was ever
+welcome; for though Mary Goddard's youth returned with the daffodils and
+the roses of the first spring after Walter's death, John's fleeting
+passion returned not, and perhaps its place was better taken. Year by
+year, as he came to refresh himself from hard work with a breath of the
+country air, he saw the little girl grow to the young maiden of sixteen,
+and he saw her beauty ripen again to the fulness of womanhood; and at
+last, when she was one and twenty years of age he in his turn put out his
+hand and asked her to take him--which she did, for better or worse, but
+to all appearances for better. For John Short had prospered mightily in
+the world, and had come to think his first great success as very small
+and insignificant as compared with what he had done since. But his old
+simplicity was in him yet, and was the cause of much of his prosperity,
+as it generally is when it is found together with plenty of brains. It
+was doubtless because he was so very simple that when he found that he
+loved Eleanor Goddard he did not hesitate to ask the convict's daughter
+to be his wife. His interview with Mr. Juxon was characteristic.
+
+"You know what you are doing, John?" asked the squire. He always called
+him John, now.
+
+"Perfectly," replied the scholar, "I am doing precisely what my betters
+have done before me with such admirable result."
+
+"Betters?"
+
+"You. You knew about it all and you married her mother. I know all about
+it, and I wish to marry herself."
+
+"You know that she never heard the story?"
+
+"Yes. She never shall."
+
+"No, John--she never must. Well, all good go with you."
+
+So Charles Juxon gave his consent. And Mary Juxon consented too; but for
+the first time in many years the tears rose again to her eyes, and she
+laid her hand on John's arm, as they walked together in the park.
+
+"Oh, John," she said, "do you think it is right--for you yourself?"
+
+"Of course I think so," quoth John stoutly.
+
+"You John--with your reputation, your success, with the whole world at
+your feet--you ought not to marry the daughter of--of such a man."
+
+"My dear Mrs. Juxon," said John Short, "is she not your daughter as well
+as his? Pray, pray do not mention that objection. I assure you I have
+thought it all over. There is really nothing more to be said, which I
+have not said to myself. Dear Mrs. Juxon--do say Yes!"
+
+"You are very generous, John, as well as great," she answered looking up
+to his face. "Well--I have nothing to say. You must do as you think best.
+I am sure you will be kind to Nellie, for I have known you for ten
+years--you may tell her I am very glad--" she stopped, her eyes brimming
+over with tears.
+
+"Do you remember how angry I was once, when you told me to go and talk to
+Nellie?" said John. "It was just here, too--"
+
+Mary Juxon laughed happily and brushed the tears from her eyes. So it was
+all settled.
+
+Once more the Reverend Augustin Ambrose united two loving hearts before
+the altar of Saint Mary's. He was well stricken in years, and his hair
+and beard were very white. Mrs. Ambrose also grew more imposing with each
+succeeding season, but her face was softer than of old, and her voice
+more gentle. For the sorrow and suffering of a few days had drawn
+together the hearts of all those good people with strong bands, and a
+deep affection had sprung up between them all. The good old lady felt as
+though Mary Juxon were her daughter--Mary Juxon, by whom she had stood in
+the moment of direst trial and terror, whom she had tended in illness and
+cheered in recovery. And the younger woman's heart had gone out towards
+her, feeling how good a thing it is to find a friend in need, and
+learning to value in her happiness the wealth of human kindness she had
+found in her adversity.
+
+They are like one family, now, having a common past, a common present,
+and a common future, and there is no dissension among them. Honest and
+loyal men and women may meet day after day, and join hands and exchange
+greetings, without becoming firm friends, for the very reason that they
+have no need of each other. But if the storm of a great sorrow breaks
+among them and they call out to each other for help, and bear the brunt
+of the weather hand in hand, the seed of a deeper affection is brought
+into their midst; and when the tempest is past the sweet flower of
+friendship springs up in the moistened furrows of their lives.
+
+So those good people in the lonely parish of Billingsfield gathered round
+Mary Goddard, as they called her then, and round poor little Nellie, and
+did their best to protect the mother and the child from harm and
+undeserved suffering; and afterwards, when it was all over, and there was
+nothing more to be feared in the future, they looked into each other's
+faces and felt that they were become as brothers and sisters, and that so
+long as they should live--may it be long indeed!--there was a bond
+between them which could never be broken. So it was that Mrs. Ambrose's
+face softened and her voice was less severe than it had been.
+
+Mary Juxon is the happiest of women; happy in her husband, in her
+eldest daughter, in John Short and in the little children with bright
+faces and ringing voices who nestle at her knee or climb over the sturdy
+sailor-squire, and pull his great beard and make him laugh. They will
+never know, any more than Nellie knew, all that their mother suffered;
+and as she looks upon them and strokes their long fair hair and listens
+to their laughter, she says to herself that it was perhaps almost worth
+while to have been dragged down towards the depths of shame for the sake
+of at last enjoying such pride and glory of happy motherhood.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. MARION CRAWFORD
+
+      I. Mr. Isaacs
+     II. Doctor Claudius
+    III. To Leeward
+     IV. A Roman Singer
+      V. An American Politician
+     VI. Marzio's Crucifix Zoroaster
+    VII. A Tale of a Lonely Parish
+   VIII. Paul Patoff
+     IX. Love in Idleness: A Tale of Bar Harbor Marion Darche
+      X. Saracinesca
+     XI. Sant' Ilario
+    XII. Don Orsino
+   XIII. Corleone: A Sicilian Story
+    XIV. With the Immortals
+     XV. Greifenstein
+    XVI. A Cigarette-Maker's Romance Khaled
+   XVII. The Witch of Prague
+  XVIII. The Three Fates
+    XIX. Taquisara
+     XX. The Children of the King
+    XXI. Pietro Ghisleri
+   XXII. Katharine Lauderdale
+  XXIII. The Ralstons
+   XXIV. Casa Braccio (Part I)
+    XXV. Casa Braccio (Part II)
+   XXVI. Adam Johnstone's Son A Rose of Yesterday
+  XXVII. Via Crucia
+ XXVIII. In the Palace of the King
+   XXIX. Marietta: A Maid of Venice
+    XXX. Cecilia: A Story of Modern Rome
+   XXXI. The Heart of Rome
+  XXXII. Whosoever Shall Offend
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH***
+
+
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